ACJY C62

Today, it was the peach orchard. Right after melons came peaches. Following the man around, Taeheun could tell the seasons by the fruits in season. For someone who only knew fruit as bar snacks at room salons, this was quite the progress.

They each donned a yellow raincoat and walked to the orchard.

“Mr. Gibeom, do you like peaches?”

“Yeah.”

“No allergies?”

“The fuzz makes me a bit itchy, but if you wash and peel them, I’m fine.”

“I’ll do it for you from now on. I’m not allergic.”

Taeheun declared confidently. For the man, he’d do it even with allergies. The man smiled.

The orchard was sizable, managed by a couple in their fifties. Of course, they often called the man for odd jobs.

Peach trees were sensitive to water. Submerged for over three days, their leaves fell early, and roots rotted. Over six days, they died outright. The man explained that drainage was critical. He added that the grass under the trees was deliberately planted to regulate soil moisture.

When talking about crops, the man sparkled. His voice and eyes softened, treating even others’ peaches or melons with the warmth he’d show his own child.

“I should’ve been born a peach tree. Or maybe rice.”

Taeheun muttered.

The rain falling on the orchard sounded different from rain on fields—more robust. In raincoats, the already heavy raindrops made frequent thud-thud sounds, sometimes falling with a clatter. It was its own music.

“Wanna eat kalguksu for lunch? Is there a place nearby?”

Taeheun asked, rummaging through the grass like the man.

“There’s one on the way to town. Not far, so we can go after work.”

The man replied.

“Your foot okay?”

The man asked, tidying the grass Taeheun had messed up.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“No water got in?”

“Of course not.”

A lie. Despite no gap between his boots and pants, rainwater had seeped in, soaking his socks. His scraped soles stung badly. But being a bit of a masochist, the pain thrilled him.

Above all, the burning soles reminded him of that dawn. Now, instead of sadness or shame, it excited him. Even if it was a lie to comfort him, the man had said he liked him.

‘I like you too, Mr. Taeheun. Not in that way, though.’

It was in the master bedroom, in a low, calm voice, without blushing, but he said it. Earlier, Taeheun thought it was empty consolation, but now his heart had shifted.

The man wasn’t one to speak carelessly. So it must be true. Not blushing meant it wasn’t that kind of like—yet.

“There’s a chance for me, right?”

He blurted out suddenly.

No response; maybe the man didn’t hear. He was turned away, inspecting the peach trees.

“Mr. Gibeom! Is there a chance for me?”

Shouting again, the man finally turned.

“There’s a chance, right? You like me too.”

Taeheun said earnestly, locking eyes.

“A chance, right?”

“…Yeah.”

A bit late, but the man nodded. He turned away quickly, hiding his expression, but who cared? There was a chance.

His heart raced. His heartbreak-shattered heart found new life. He hummed “Island Baby” of all things, but in this mood, he could dance with ghosts.

“Mr. Gibeom, let’s go together. Why’re you going alone?”

He hurried to catch up with the man’s quickened pace. A smile wouldn’t leave his face.

Walking through the peach orchard in matching raincoats and boots, under the rain, was romantic.

The rain-soaked man was especially alluring. Each time raindrops clung to his long lashes, Taeheun reached out to wipe them. The first couple of times, the man dodged, but later he let Taeheun do it. Not like he’d resigned himself to Yongjun or that dawn with Taeheun, but willingly, fully aware, he allowed Taeheun’s touch. That was indescribably joyful.

Had there ever been a day so thrilling? Taeheun asked himself. He shook his head. Neither Taeheun nor Lee Seonjae had ever felt this. Except for the day he became his aunt’s adopted son as Lee Seonjae, before her death, he was always unhappy—unaware of it. Lee Seonjae was miserable and lonely. Only as Kim Taeheun did he realize it. Borrowing a name, he finally understood himself.

I want to live. Beyond the time Detective Oh mentioned.

Taeheun thought, watching the falling rain.

✽✽✽

“Hey, old man. Why’re you giving the kid makgeolli?”

The man scolded Elder Hwang.

“What’s the harm? He’s drinking fine. Jihye, tasty, right?”

“Yeah, Grandpa!”

The kid answered boldly, already on his second cup of sweetened makgeolli.

“Yoon Jihye, stop. That’s not juice—it’s alcohol. Can’t you see your dad’s worried?”

Unable to watch, Taeheun snatched the cup. Makgeolli spilled on their hands.

“Tch. You and Dad drink too.”

The kid grumbled, shaking his hands.

“Drink all you want when you’re grown. Not now. Your dad could get in trouble.”

While Taeheun and the kid bickered, the man wiped the kid’s hands and handed Taeheun a towel.

In the evening, the women’s association hosted a gathering at the village hall’s common room, cooking pajeon and serving makgeolli. Not a special event, but a monthly or bimonthly meal. With rain making pajeon and makgeolli fitting, nearly everyone showed up.

Few came empty-handed. They brought cold or hot rice, whiskey lying around, or homemade fruit liquor. Over ten gas burners and frying pans ensured plenty for dozens to cook and eat.

People sat in clusters around the spacious room, frying pajeon, eating rice, and drinking. Not just Jihye but other kids his age sipped sweetened makgeolli among adults. Unlike the man, no parents fretted; they just laughed, saying the kids drank well.

It seemed all of Dongjam-ri was there, except the youth club president and Yongjun. They likely didn’t care for listening to elders’ tales or complaints while pouring drinks.

“You two known each other long? Such good friends, strangers might think you’re brothers.”

Elder Hwang said in a raspy voice. The kid beamed; the man blushed.

“Here, have a drink, sir.”

Taeheun quickly filled Elder Hwang’s empty cup.

“We’re total strangers. But from the day we met, we clicked so well, I wondered if we were married in a past life.”

Taeheun’s charm made Elder Hwang and nearby elders roar with laughter. Sure, some folks are like that. Meant to be. The man turned into a flaming sweet potato, and the tipsy kid clapped happily.

“But you’re too good-looking to waste away here.”

Someone said, eyeing Taeheun.

“What about Jihye’s dad? He’d hold his own anywhere.”

Another added.

“Don’t say that! Young men are precious. What if they get ideas?”

Nopa, sitting nearby, scolded them for reckless talk.

“Who knows? If they go on TV, girls might line up to move here.”

“Exactly. Let these two sacrifice a bit to marry off our bachelors.”

“TV exposure could raise land prices too. Win-win.”

Half-joking, half-serious remarks erupted.

“TV? The village head’s at it again. If you’re gonna talk nonsense, I’m out. I’ve got places to go.”

Taeheun protested, and they laughed, thinking it a joke. But his heart sank. Recently, the village head had suggested he appear on TV.

‘Promote the village and help our youth club president get married. Going on air with Manager Kim would help. Can’t you do it?’

Unlike the villagers, the head wanted his son, not the man, on TV, mainly to marry off Gicheol. When Taeheun objected, the topic dropped, but the head seemed to be spreading the idea.

The conversation shifted, but unease lingered. The head might’ve already contacted a station. A surprise crew would be trouble.

Thinking of someone to resolve this, Taeheun was about to leave to call them.

“Where you going? Not taking our drinks?”

Women from Jang’s melon greenhouse came over, offering drinks. Known as someone’s mom, they shut down the men’s silly TV talk with witty banter, lifting Taeheun’s mood. He decided to call later and stayed, enjoying the drinks.

In a village with few kids, adults gave money to any familiar child. Everyone—men, women, old, young—dug into pockets for 1,000 or 5,000 won, or coins if that’s all they had. Jihye grinned ear to ear; the man scrambled to stop them.

How could they be so different?

Taeheun laughed, emptying his makgeolli cup.

“Hey, who’s this? Isn’t that Oh Daeho? What’s he doing here this late? Got fired?”

Someone shouted. Taeheun turned. Speak of the devil—Detective Oh Daeho walked in. No need to go call him.