BIA Ch. 49

The problem was that this kid wasn’t really a kid. Just by looks, he was in his mid-twenties, but his mind was that of a naive nineteen-year-old. And since he had a smartphone and a credit card, there was nowhere he couldn’t go alone.

I tried to threaten him into not using the card as much as possible, but it was no use. When I found him at Mountain Dog, he was already half-dazed by some unknown man’s words. The man quickly ran away as soon as he saw me, and Isaiah also got up as if trying to avoid me. I offered to take him home, but it was no use.

“No, I’ll go alone.”

He said with a still confused look on his face and then quickly ran out of the club as if escaping.

“David!”

I immediately went to find the manager at Mountain Dog.

“Find out who that guy was who was sitting here earlier.”

“Understood.”

“And who has Rohypnol^[1]?”

“Huh? Rohypnol?”

The manager’s eyes widened.

“Yeah. Anyone is fine, just bring me one pill of the best quality. No cheap stuff.”

“Ah, please wait a moment.”

The manager ran to the staff lounge. He returned a moment later and handed me a small sealed plastic bag. Inside was one uncoated white pill.

The rain, which had been pouring down fiercely since I left Mountain Dog, was almost torrential by the time I arrived at Isaiah’s apartment.

Isaiah wasn’t home. Only his gun, smartphone, and Chester’s card were on the kitchen table. The fact that he left the card meant he was moving around without using public transportation. Of course, he could hitch a ride, but in his current state, that would be impossible. In this rain, there’s no good Samaritan in this city who would sacrifice their seat to pick up someone who clearly looks out of it. At least not in this city.

If he was on foot, he couldn’t have gone far yet. I slowly drove around the alleys near the apartment.

It would be easier to find him if it wasn’t raining so hard, but the downpour showed no signs of letting up. Watching the wipers move incessantly in the pouring rain, I couldn’t help but think of the time my father passed away.

I was in middle school then. During class, I was called outside, and there were two police officers waiting. They said that my father had passed away and that they needed me to go with them to St. Helena Hospital right away to identify the body.

It was pouring rain as I rode in the police car to the hospital. I watched the wipers move precariously as if they were about to break, and the police officers were talking to each other. I was in the back seat, watching them, and thought that it was a good thing I hadn’t brought an umbrella this morning.

I didn’t want to play the tragic protagonist, saying things like I couldn’t believe it, or why did this have to happen to me. At that time, all I felt was a very detached sense of, “So, this is how it ends,” and realistic worries about how I was going to live, and whether I would end up in a facility.

My father was in the morgue. Thanks to the bullet that pierced his heart, his face was clean without a single scar. He was just a little pale and cold. And his clothes were wet.

They said my father was shot at the entrance of a bar. The boss, who was talking inside and was about to come out, was almost shot by his subordinate, but my father blocked the bullet with his body. After that, a gunfight broke out, and my father’s body was left in the rain for quite a while, and his clothes were still wet.

I didn’t have a good relationship with my father. Or rather, I hated him unilaterally. I didn’t hate my father because he was an alcoholic. It wasn’t because our family was poor, or because my mother ran away.

Everyone has something they can’t stand. For me, it was my father’s moral failings. Being poor was okay. Poverty wasn’t a sin, it was just a little inconvenient. And that inconvenience was something I could fix later when I made a lot of money. It was also okay that I didn’t have a mother like other kids. My mother left to find a better life. It was a good thing for her. After all, it was better for two people to be unhappy than three.

But the fact that my father was a criminal, that was something I couldn’t rationalize no matter what. Moreover, it was entirely my father’s choice. I wished that my father would work at the docks, even if we were poorer than we were, even if we went hungry. I wanted him to honestly provide his labor for a small amount of money and receive the reward for it. I was certain that would have been much happier.

Maybe that’s why I clung to the truth that my father was actually an FBI agent infiltrating the mafia, not a mafia member. For me at that time, that was literally my only salvation.

The rain had weakened a little. It was still a downpour, just a heavy rain now, but that was enough. Thanks to that, I was finally able to find him on my third time around the apartment, after not finding him in the first two.

Isaiah was wandering around the alley like a ghost with a blank look on his face. Rather than having a specific destination, it was like he was being dragged by the collar, aimlessly walking. It was a typical case of a runaway. And in the process, he must have fallen somewhere, because he was limping on one leg.

I parked the car in a suitable spot and followed him. He didn’t even notice me until I was right behind him. I grabbed his shoulder and said,

“What are you doing here?”

Isaiah wasn’t surprised. He just turned around blankly and mumbled.

“I don’t know…”

“Where are you going? Mountain Dog?”

He nodded a beat late.

“Why, did Manny call you?”

“Manny? No…”

Isaiah raised his head and looked at me. His empty pupils soon filled with a bright light. I thought it was the streetlight. But–

“To see you.”

It wasn’t. He was looking at me. Specifically, he was staring into my eyes.

I smiled and asked,

“Me? Why?”

He didn’t answer and said something random.

“Bug…”

A smile spread across his face at the end of his sentence. I saw Lee’s face in that innocent smile. Lee’s smiling face, which I had never seen back then.

“There’s a bug. In your eyes.”

At that moment, I was confronted with the abyss I had tried so hard to ignore.

I wish you didn’t know. That I was your salvation. I wish you could live without knowing that your life was so terrible that someone like me was your salvation. Forever.

“Bran.”

You, who chose to just cover your eyes with your hands without any resistance when you were betrayed by your only salvation and were about to be killed by his hands, I wish you would live without ever opening your eyes.

“That’s too much.”

I said with the same smile as back then. Isaiah stared at me for a long time, then suddenly started reciting something like he had received a revelation. It was a passage from . A scene from the page Isaiah Cole had folded. The part where the Tralfamadorian talks about the bug in amber.

“Slaughterhouse-Five.”

I took off my jacket and put it on his shoulders. Isaiah seemed to finally remember the title. The place where the book was, the frame that was next to it, and the ID that was tucked behind it.

“When I picked up the frame, there was an ID tucked behind it. And I wanted it…”

“Why?”

“Because it’s yours.”

Isaiah said, looking up at me, while being held in my arms.

“Because it’s yours, Bran.”

I smiled mischievously at him.

“You shouldn’t tell me that.”

“Why…?”

“Why do you think? Think about it.”

Isaiah looked like he didn’t know. It was like he didn’t even want to think about it. I gave him the answer directly.

“Because I’m hiding it from you.”

“Ah…”

Only then did his pupils slowly roll.

“Right. Bran was hiding it…”

“Yeah. So you never told me either.”

“Yeah…”

Isaiah nodded reflexively.

“We never had this conversation today.”

Right, Isaiah? I whispered softly into his ear.

“Yeah…”

“You’re so good. You listen so well.”

“I’m good…?”

He blinked slowly as I stroked his back. He looked like he had never heard such a thing before.

“You are good. You listen so well.”

I took the pill out of my pocket and tore open the plastic bag with my teeth.

“I’ll give you a reward. Open your mouth.”

Isaiah obediently opened his mouth. I put the white pill on my tongue and kissed him. His lips were as cold as ice, probably from wandering in the rain.

“Ugh…!”

Isaiah instinctively tried to push me away at the foreign sensation on his tongue. I held him tighter and pushed my tongue deep into his mouth. The pill easily went down his throat and into his esophagus.

“Bitter…”

Isaiah mumbled as soon as he broke the kiss. Rohypnol is known for being colorless and odorless. This must be his brain making him mistake the sensation on his tongue as bitter.

“I don’t like medicine…”

Isaiah said with a face that looked like he was about to cry. But he didn’t cry in the end. He just gasped and mumbled faintly. I don’t like medicine, Bran.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t give you any more.”

I comforted him, who wasn’t crying, and kissed him again. His lips were still cold, and there were still some uncoated pill granules left on his tongue. I hugged his waist and sucked his tongue hard.

“It’s, uhn…”

The umbrella, which had been precariously covering us, finally slipped from his hand and fell to the ground. As soon as he dropped the umbrella, Isaiah finally wrapped his arms around my neck. Even then, he was clearly upset that I had given him the pill, because as soon as our lips parted, he pushed my chest and got angry.

“You gave me medicine every time, in that house. Even though I said I didn’t like it… You kept, kept…!”

“Did I? This isn’t that kind of medicine, so it’s okay.”

“I still don’t like it. I don’t like any medicine…”

“I said I’m sorry. I’ll never give you any again.”

I promise. I whispered as I pulled him back into my arms.

“I’ll never give you any, no matter what.”

“Really. I don’t like medicine…”

“Yeah.”

I hugged his body, which was slowly losing strength, even tighter and whispered.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Cold…”

“Shall we go to the car?”

Instead of answering, he leaned against me. It seemed the effects of the drug were kicking in faster because he was so worked up. Sure enough, by the time I carried him to the car, his body had completely slumped, and I put him in the passenger seat instead of the back and headed to the apartment.

As soon as I entered the apartment, I smelled the stench of rotting flesh that I hadn’t noticed earlier. But the corpse was a problem for later. Right now, Isaiah’s condition was the priority. At this rate, he was sure to catch a cold.

First, I took off his wet clothes and wiped his body with a towel. Then, I left him in his underwear and laid him on the bed. I pulled out all the blankets I could find and covered him, and moved the radiator by the window closer to the bed. All this time, he hadn’t opened his eyes once. On top of that, he was starting to get hot, or maybe his temperature was rising, because his face quickly began to flush.

I sat down next to the bed, intending to observe his condition for a while. He was still sleeping as if he were passed out. A soft groan escaped from his parted lips. I touched his forehead with my hand, and his fever wasn’t too high yet. But he was sweating cold. It seemed like it would be best to buy some fever reducers and give them to him. And I needed to take a shower before I caught a cold too. I couldn’t just put on my wet clothes after showering, so I had to go home and get some clothes, too. Above all, I had to deal with the corpse in the entryway.

There was a lot to do. But for some reason, I didn’t want to move at all. I wanted to keep sitting by the bed. Just sitting here, looking at his sleeping face.

It doesn’t matter, I told myself. I’m just going to do this for a little while.

Yeah, it’s not like I’m saying I’ll do this forever. Just a little while. Really just a little while. It’s a moment close to a blink in the grand scheme of life.

And the night was just beginning.