ACJY C9

The atmosphere grew heavy. Even the alcohol ran out. As if prepared for this moment, Detective Oh rummaged through the pockets of his summer jacket and produced a folded white envelope.

“What’s this?”

I asked, taking the envelope.

“This is where you’ll be living from now on, Director. I mentioned it before, do you remember?”

“Ah.”

Once out of the safe house, Taeheun was scheduled to stay in a rural village bordering Gyeonggi and Chungcheong provinces. This was the time needed to obtain a new ID card and passport under a new identity, and above all, an unavoidable choice to finalize the remaining tasks.

Taeheun had been all over the country, accompanying his uncle, who was engrossed in real estate and land speculation. Taeheun’s impression of the countryside at that time was that it was a boring and inconvenient place. Asphalt roads were scarce, and even cement ones were a blessing. Houses still heated with coal briquettes or firewood were numerous, and villages without even a supermarket, let alone a cafe, were commonplace. So when Detective Oh had brought up the idea of that village, Taeheun had been indifferent.

“Three months at most,” Detective Oh added.

I unfolded the envelope and took out the photos.

They say environment shapes a person. In the past, Taeheun would have sighed at the sight of the monotonous paddy fields and slate roofs, but now he was envious. It looked a hundred, a thousand times better than here. At least the air would be clean and wouldn’t smell of urine. The thought made him long to go outside. He focused on each photograph, one by one. Are these green plants soybeans? He tried to recall the names of all the crops he knew, even if he wasn’t sure.

Taeheun stopped flipping through the photos. As if waiting for this, Detective Oh explained.

“He’s a younger guy I know well. Yoon Gibeom, thirty-three this year, I think. He has a young daughter. Just the two of them. They’re not particularly well-off, but he’ll take good care of you while you’re there. He’s more capable than he looks.”

Taeheun stared for a long time at the photo of the man smiling brightly, shirtless. This man and his young daughter will be my new family. The thought was strange. He looked at the picture a little longer before putting it back in the envelope with the rest.

They finished off the remaining sashimi while making small talk.

Detective Oh got up well past midnight.

“Detective Oh, let’s go out sometime. We could even go here.”

Taeheun shook the envelope containing the photos.

“He’s someone I’ll be living with. Even if we can’t have a drink together, shouldn’t we at least introduce ourselves?”

Detective Oh laughed at Taeheun’s words.

“We’ll see.”

Saying this, Detective Oh picked up his summer jacket. He sat with his back to Taeheun and put on his sneakers. His close-cropped hair, a head slightly large for his height, and a slight paunch, despite his otherwise solid build, were the typical image of a detective. Ten years ago, he couldn’t have been more terrifying; now, he couldn’t have looked more dependable.

“I’m serious. Please arrange a meeting.”

Taeheun said to his back. It was almost a plea.

“I’ll put in a word.”

With these words, Detective Oh left the safe house.

Taeheun was alone again, thrown into silence.

Had he always been this susceptible to loneliness?

Having been with someone for even that short time made being alone feel burdensome.

I want to go out.

It was all because of those damn photos.

The man had a good physique. His body, honed by farm work, had muscles of varying sizes depending on how often they were used, but they looked much more impressive than Taeheun’s gym-built muscles. His skin was tanned from working outdoors, and his worn jeans and faded red boots somehow looked fashionable.

Taeheun flipped through the photos Detective Oh had brought until he memorized them. He always stopped at the man’s picture and clicked his tongue every time. It seemed pathetic that a man with that height and appearance was living in the countryside, helping out on other people’s farms.

Boys, be ambitious. His uncle’s constant mantra. Even if he couldn’t achieve that level of ambition, he figured the man could earn two or three times more working construction or at a logistics center in the city. Taeheun was startled to find himself turning into a grumpy old man like his uncle and tossed the photos aside. Then he picked them up again and stared at them for a long time.

I have to live with this man from now on.

Taeheun scratched his eyebrow with a cigarette held between his index and middle fingers.

New items had been added to the small room: a radio, a newspaper, and cigarettes. The addition of these three things made life a little more bearable.

Taeheun opened the newspaper while listening to the radio. From the day after Lee Seonjae’s death until today’s morning edition, they had been delivered without fail. Naturally, he opened the newspaper from the day after the accident. A few lines in the incidents section reported that a Mr. Lee (30) had died. A car skidded on the rain-slicked road and plunged 20 meters onto the bridge below, exploding. The driver died at the scene.

Detective Oh had said it was harder than expected to find the body of a man similar in height and build to Lee Seonjae. After much deliberation, they decided to make the body as unrecognizable as possible. That was the key to this traffic accident, and they had pulled it off. On the day he and Detective Oh had celebrated with Chinese food and goliangju, had they also had a celebratory party? Thinking such idle thoughts, he opened the business section.

He found it funny that, even confined, he still checked the stock market first. Well, they say a well-fed ghost looks better. His mind calmed as he read through the numbers.

After reading the entire newspaper, he had nothing to do, and his hand naturally reached for the photos. He stopped again at the man’s picture. Judging by the fact that he lived with only his daughter, the mother must have either died or run away. It was admirable that the father hadn’t abandoned his child and was raising her, but giving birth didn’t make someone a parent. Look at Taeheun’s parents. They’d spawned three kids and hadn’t properly fed or clothed them until his uncle stepped in.

The thought compelled him to light a cigarette. Sweat trickled down his temples and hung on his chin. Taeheun lit it with a disposable lighter bearing the name of a room salon. He sucked on the cigarette until his cheeks hollowed, filling his mouth with smoke. A pleasant dizziness washed over him.

He pulled the ashtray closer. Just looking at the photos while sitting in the corner of the room wasn’t enough anymore. He started burning the pictures one by one. In less than 30 seconds, the fields were on fire, and finally, the man turned to ashes and disappeared.

“Let’s go out!”

He shouted into the empty air.

“Dongjam-ri, let me tell you, is the least developed, or rather, the less developed village in Hanju City. It’s the same all around Mansu Mountain. If you go there, you’ll see, it’s still like the 80s. It’s not like Icheon with its semiconductor factories, and it’s not quite suitable for a brewery or a logistics center. All the golf courses went to Giheung. They’re building apartments in Yongin. This land is just suitable for farming, that’s all. Compared to Dongjam-ri, the town center is practically a metropolis. The transportation is quite convenient too.”

Mr. Han Donggyu, who had been running a real estate business in the town center for 20 years, spent the entire drive to Dongjam-ri boasting about Hwangmu Town while lamenting how much less valuable the surrounding land was compared to neighboring cities and villages.

“Since Daeho referred you, I’m being completely honest. It’s not suitable for investment, but it’s a rare find if you’re just looking for a place to relax for a while. The people are kind, the air is clean, and well, it’s quiet.”

Taeheun listened with a detached expression, letting most of what Mr. Han said go in one ear and out the other. Detective Park Dong-hee, sitting in the passenger seat next to Mr. Han, was dozing off.

It was exactly one week after Lee Seonjae’s death. When Detective Oh had vaguely agreed to Taeheun’s request to go out, interpreting it as a veiled threat to escape, Taeheun had assumed Detective Oh would accompany him on his first outing. Instead, he had sent Detective Park, who was around Taeheun’s age. His code name was Rabbit. The very same detective whose wrist Taeheun had nearly broken when he tried to put a hood over his head in the van. Rabbit and Turtle. It wasn’t even funny.

“You’ll be seeing Detective Park often from now on. It would be good for you to get acquainted. Oh, and call Detective Park, ‘Chief Park’ instead.”

Detective Oh had explained that since he was also a detective, having another detective appear in the village might cause unnecessary suspicion, which was why they agreed on “Chief Park.” To Taeheun’s lukewarm response, he assured him that he could trust Detective Park.

Perhaps it was because of Detective Oh’s request, or despite Taeheun’s less-than-favorable first impression, Detective Park was rather affable.

Sitting in the back seat, Taeheun stared blankly at the road lined with paddy fields. It was a scenery that induced yawns just by looking at it, but he felt much better being dressed up and getting some fresh air after so long.

Occasionally, trucks passed by with grandmothers, their heads wrapped in towels, huddled together in the back, being transported somewhere. Sometimes, the trucks carried cows, pigs, or chickens; other times, fertilizer or farm equipment. The fields were devoid of people.

“It seems like no one is working. How come there’s no one around?”

“Oh, our Director is a city person, so you don’t know. It’s not that they aren’t working, it’s just that when it gets hot, everyone wakes up at dawn, works, has lunch, and goes back inside to rest. Then they come back out around sunset and work some more. You’d die of heatstroke working in the fields under the scorching sun.”

Mr. Han explained.

“Several elderly people die of heatstroke every summer. I don’t know why they don’t listen. It’s not like they’ll starve to death if they don’t harvest right away. You’ll see when you get there, but the stubbornness of old people in the countryside is unbelievable. My own mother doesn’t even listen to me. ‘What do you know, you little whippersnapper, telling me what to do? I, a farmer, know best about farming.’ Oh, don’t even get me started.”

Taeheun chuckled, finding it amusing that Mr. Han, who was nearing sixty, was talking about his “mother.”