BIA Ch. 18

Day 2

When he woke up in the morning, there were twenty-two missed calls from overnight. Two numbers had taken turns calling. One of them was Manny and the other…

“Chester, I guess.”

Bran said, pouring coffee into a mug. Also. Isaiah groaned and threw his phone on the table.

“That smartphone is Chester’s. He gave it to me, registered under his name, so he would have a direct line to me for this job.”

Bran set two mugs of coffee he had poured onto the table. The mugs were the same design, just different colors, obviously a couple’s set.

“It’s okay. You don’t usually answer the phone much anyway. At least, that’s what I know. So, if Chester or Manny had business, they would usually send a text message.”

“Still, wouldn’t they think it’s strange if I ignore them this much? More than anything, right now I’m Isaiah Diaz, not Isaiah Cole.”

“That’s the problem.”

Bran took a sip of his coffee. Isaiah also took a sip and immediately spat it out. It wasn’t that he disliked the mug which might have belonged to the woman he had killed but the coffee tasted strange. It was far too strong. As if anticipating this, Bran calmly poured cold water from the pot into Isaiah’s mug.

“When we meet later this evening, tell them you didn’t know about the calls because you had the phone set to Do Not Disturb. After that, just answer maybe one out of every three calls… No, one out of every five would be fine.”

“Okay.”

While he was drinking the coffee which had sacrificed temperature for a more palatable concentration, someone unlocked the front door and entered. It was Vanessa, who had been managing the household for the past four years.

“Vanessa, this is Isaiah. Isaiah Cole.”

“Is he your subordinate?”

“Does it look like that?”

The woman, brimming with an energy that belied her age which was close to seventy, scrutinized Isaiah’s face for a long moment before shaking her head.

“Well, I don’t know. These days, mafia members don’t really look like mafia members.”

She was right. Throughout breakfast, several of Bran’s subordinates came by, but not a single one looked like a stereotypical mafia member. In the afternoon, when they arrived dressed in their finest suits for a funeral visit, the “mafia” looked no different from respectable corporate employees. Yet, every one of them grimaced the moment they laid eyes on Isaiah. They all seemed to believe that Isaiah, sensing Chester’s imminent downfall, had quickly latched onto another man. In particular, a guy named Gilman or something, who looked like a young entrepreneur who had made a fortune in Bitcoin, whispered in Isaiah’s ear as soon as Bran left the room for a moment. ‘You fucking whore, I’ll kill you if you don’t get out of here before the funeral is over.’

Isaiah—thinking that this was probably how Isaiah Cole would have reacted—ignored him and nonchalantly enjoyed the omelet Vanessa had made, but inwardly, he seethed with humiliation. Just you wait. The moment I return to the FBI, you’ll be in handcuffs. … Oh, right, the FBI doesn’t have the authority to prosecute. I don’t know, but I won’t let you get away with this.

Of course, not all of Bran’s men were like that. Samuel, who drove them to the hospital in Bran’s car after the meal, was different.

“You’re going directly to Dr. Ackermann, right? I contacted his office as soon as you mentioned it last night, but I was only able to secure a thirty-minute appointment. His schedule is completely booked.”

“Thirty minutes is enough for a consultation.”

“Yes, usually it’s the examinations that take a long time.”

Judging from their conversation, Samuel seemed to be to Bran what Manny was to Chester.

“And don’t worry about keeping the others quiet. They’ll behave themselves. It’s not like they’re going to make a fuss about this, considering the circumstances. They’re not high school students.”

“Yeah, they’re acting like middle schoolers who found a condom in the hallway, not high school students. What’s their problem? It’s not like they’re seeing a lover for the first time.”

…That means the mug might not belong to Irina.

I should feel relieved but I don’t know why I feel more annoyed. Just as Isaiah sighed and rolled down the car window, Samuel, in the driver’s seat, spoke.

“I guess it’s their first time with a man. It’s different with a woman. Frankly, imagining the two of you having sex is a bit…”

“It’s better than imagining having sex with Chester.”

“Oh, right, right. Can I go vomit for a moment?”

“Do it at the hospital.”

Thanks to Samuel enduring the urge to vomit and fulfilling his role as chauffeur, they arrived at the hospital precisely at their scheduled time.

“It’s been a while, Bran.”

The nurse at the reception desk recognized Bran immediately.

“Hello, Gabi.”

Bran smiled gently, as always. He approached the nurse and whispered something. The nurse glanced at Isaiah, who was standing behind Bran, then nodded and handed over a questionnaire.

He filled in Bran’s personal information, including his social security number then filled out the rest of the symptoms as his own. After submitting the questionnaire, he was instructed to wait in front of the hypnosis examination room.

“But do I really need to have this hypnosis test?”

At first, he hadn’t thought much about it. Okay, let’s try anything. Everyone’s talking about hypnosis, so it must be effective, he had thought. But now, faced with the actual test, he couldn’t help but feel resistant.

“Why? Are you scared?”

“It’s not so much scary as… I’m a little worried.”

Bran blinked slowly, as if asking, What is it?.

“Just… I’m worried I might say something strange.”

“There’s no such thing as strange. It’s all worth saying.”

If he were to say he hated that even more… would this man understand?

No, he probably would never understand. Because he, himself, didn’t understand. At this point, when he needed to find any clue to dredge up his memories, he was afraid of what might tumble out of his own mouth, something that could become a clue.

“And so what? Whether they say something weird to a stranger or not, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like you’ll ever see them again.”

“Well, that’s true.”

The only consolation was that guardians weren’t allowed inside the examination room. He had checked the box on the questionnaire indicating he would not share the contents of the hypnosis test with his guardian, so Bran wouldn’t know what he said.

“Mr. Wiseman.”

The nurse called out into the hallway after opening the door to the examination room. Isaiah glanced at Bran without thinking.

“She’s calling you.”

“Ah.”

Isaiah finally remembered he had filled out the questionnaire with Bran’s name and quickly got up.

“This makes it feel like we’re married.”

“What are you talking about?”

Isaiah laughed, as if it were absurd, as he headed towards the examination room. The fact that he had the same thought would remain a secret until his death.

The hypnosis examination was over in a flash. No, not in a flash. He had sat in the chair and dozed off for a bit and thirty minutes had passed.

“Good job.”

Bran, who had been waiting on the bench in front of the examination room, stood up and spoke.

“How do you feel?”

“Just okay. A little tired.”

“Is it because you talked a lot?”

“I guess so…”

He couldn’t remember anything, so he couldn’t respond properly, no matter what was said. It was awkward.

As he thought this, he chuckled involuntarily.

“Why?”

Bran, who was walking ahead, turned around without stopping.

“It’s just… kind of funny. Erasing your own memories again while in a state of amnesia. Makes you wonder what this is all about.”

“Mise en abyme, perhaps.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s French. In Korean, it would be something like ‘placement within the abyss.’ If you place two mirrors facing each other, it creates an endless space within.”

“Ah. I understand.”

“Yes, like that. A mirror within a mirror, a story within a story.”

Mise en abyme. Isaiah silently repeated the unfamiliar word he had just learned. Placement within the abyss sounded profound and sophisticated, but a mirror within a mirror felt eerie. And a story within a story… was sad. Because stories always come to an end. And a story within a story would be even shorter.

“Isaiah.”

Bran stopped walking. This time, Isaiah immediately knew why. It was probably because he was crying.

“Sorry.”

Isaiah apologized, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his jacket. Instead of saying it was alright. Bran turned and stood directly in front of Isaiah, blocking him, as if to shield him from the gazes of others. He spoke in a lower, gentler voice than usual.

“It’s probably the aftereffects of the hypnosis. Emotions inevitably run high during the examination. This is just the residue.”