FOOL Ch 4

“Here.”

The bare-looking branch, with all of its blossoms having fallen off, trembled beneath the fingertips holding it.

“It looked pretty, just like you, Doctor, so I broke it off while thinking of you—”

“I told you I’m not a doctor.”

I snatched the branch and stole the bag off his wrist as well. Inside was an oily, ochre-coloured paper bag containing several donuts of various shapes, each caked in sugar. I took out a twisted donut. It smelled of old oil that’d been used several times. Feeling sorry for all the bags I had discarded up until now, I took a bite.

It was sweet.

I hated sweet things. No, I still hate them now. I only liked Woonu. Only Woonu, and nothing else. 

“If you’re going to keep giving me stuff like this in the future, then make sure you ring the doorbell and give it to me in person before you go. What am I supposed to do if someone takes it or a bug gets in?”

“Can I really? When are you home?”

I stared at his expression, looking as if he had just obtained the world. He was like a young boy who had never been loved. A pitiful being who opens up his heart to anyone who offers him even the slightest hint of kindness, only to be deceived and taken advantage of. The fact that my maternal uncle and I were probably the people who showed him the most kindness so far was an easy calculation to make.

“Did you keep going to the hospital to give these sorts of things?”

“Sometimes.”

“Where, in front of the hospital building? That’s right in front of the cars, though.”

“No. The doctor is busy, so I usually give it to the nurse noonas¹. They pamper me when I go. I feel a little sorry, though, since the reason I go there is because I want to give them stuff, but instead, the noonas are the ones giving me drinks and chocolates.”

Not only was he tall and handsome, but he was also gentle, so it was only a given that he was adored. The affection that Woonu desired didn’t distinguish between depth and giver.

All he wanted was to be able to lock eyes with someone, to exchange a few words and make contact with them, to prove that his existence was still alive. It’s a desire that a guy like me, who’s sick on the inside, rejects, but love and attention are one of the many desires felt by human beings.

“Have your circumstances always been this difficult?”

“I have some memories from my early childhood. We lived in a big house. It was big like a castle. But I don’t think it was my mom’s house.”

“Why didn’t your mom teach you to read and write?”

“My mom was sick. Um… mentally, that is.”

His words trailed off, and his gaze lowered. Despite his thin appearance now, his facial features exuded the aura of a wealthy child who had never faced any hardships. Aside from the colorful expressions he always made, his original face remained untouched by any negative emotions whatsoever. It lacked even the slightest hint of malice or guilt and was, in actuality, an exceptionally rare face to see.

“It’s broad daylight, so why did you come here instead of working at the restaurant today?”

“Auntie doesn’t do business on Mondays.”

“Where’s the market that Auntie works at?”

“It’s over in Wangsimni.”

“Did you come by taxi? Bus? Subway?”

“No. I walked.”

I didn’t want to ask whether it was because he had no money or because he was trying to save money. It was evident that the answer he’d give me in return won’t be of a novelty that breaks my expectations. It threw me into such perplexity, this poverty that kept going far beyond what my mind could allow.

He raised his gaze, staring at me with clear and pretty eyes. Eyes that were incapable of hiding the glimmer they held towards me.

Woonu.

Just then, I thought of a name. A name that was given in an insincere manner, through a simple and tacky method. We met on a rainy day, so Woon for clouds and Woo for rain².

The name I had thought of in advance but never addressed him by until much later, the name that became the very thing I loved most, and the name that made me breathe properly in the end.

“Can I stop by to give you donas³ once a month?”

“Why? Are you only going to give me donuts in the future?”

“Ah… you said that I was just adding to the trash, so… But you ate the donas.”

“I work from home, so I don’t go out every day. The reason I said that is because, sometimes, I just leave things like banana milk or steamed buns in front of the gate for several days at a time.”

“Then, in the future, I’ll ring the doorbell and give it to you directly.”

He seemed bothered by my incessant questioning, which felt more like an interrogation than anything, and was wiggling his hips, wanting to leave, I thought. Honestly, seeing as none of my questions were being answered, I was inclined to stop asking as well. As he stood up, his knees caught my eye. His grey sweatpants, fabric stretched below the knees, as if he had been wearing them for several days, filled me with pity once more.

A cherry blossom petal rested on top of Woonu’s head as he stood up. It bothered me, so I reached out a hand to remove it, but the rascal flinched, his body trembling as his shoulders shrank back, covering his face with both arms.

“Who hit you?”

“In the past, I used to get beat a lot for not having any sense, but it doesn’t happen much nowadays.”

“Violence can’t be justified, regardless of the rea—you know what, never mind. Do you have money?”

“Yes, I do.”

One by one, he started pulling out a bunch of stuff from his bulging pockets, including a crumpled handkerchief. He spread his palm—coins, crumpled ten thousand won notes, and thousand won notes spread across it—and showed them to me. The sight of people taking advantage of Woonu’s innocence had angered me several times. A soul that allowed itself to be exploited, using the fake affection it could receive as collateral.

“Don’t show other people your money like that. Don’t you have a wallet?”

“I don’t.”

“Wait here.”

I didn’t have the slightest desire to bring him inside the house. I didn’t want to do a thing about his poverty, have any influence on his life, or even want him to become something to me. I just wanted to check in every once in a while to see whether the rascal was still being beaten or taken advantage of. I tried to hide behind the reasoning that this level of attention, conflicting with conscience and responsibility, was already enough.

I covered his hospital fees for him and gave him a small amount of money. Just the fact that this was all it took for me to be seen as an amazing, kind, and knowledgeable person was too much for me to bear. Perhaps he would even revere me like a religion if I showed him any more kindness.

I had enough wealth to last me a lifetime if I continued to live my life alone, keeping the same quality of life as I do now, even if there were ten of me to support. It wasn’t as if I was going to live multiple lives, so it was practically nothing for me to fish a person out of the gutter. It was just that I didn’t want to create a reason for myself to feel and endure the weight of another’s life.

Retrieving a wallet from the drawer, a gift I had received but never used, I left the room. Then, I went back in and shoved a handkerchief, MP3 player, earphones, pull-string sweatpants, new socks, and even the hand cream that was laying in front of the mirror into the bag before thinking, ‘What am I doing?’ I shook my head, then dumped out all the contents of the bag and only took the pants and wallet before leaving again.

“Use this as a wallet.”

“Is this a high-quality item?”

“Why? Are you going to sell it? Sell it and buy yourself a cheap one, if you want.”

“No. It’s just that I think it might disappear.”

Woonu’s way of talking took a bit of time to fully comprehend. At that time, the rascal was saying that he thought it would get stolen again. Naturally, I didn’t grasp the true meaning behind his words and simply assumed he was a foolish and messy rascal who had a penchant for losing stuff.

“I have a few more wallets I don’t use, so if you lose it, come back for another. Change your pants on the maru before you leave. They’ll fit you if you tie the string. And make sure to shut the front gate when you go.”

“It’s alright. Did I annoy you by staying too long? I’ll be on my way now.”

Like he said, I was annoyed. I was glad he decided to leave. For not telling him I wasn’t actually annoyed back then, for standing on the sidelines and allowing him to live under that dreadful name Hanggu for a while longer, and for all the times I wasn’t kind to Woonu.

I regret them.

* * *

Summer, the only season worth living for me, was slowly drawing closer. As I sat on the maru, slipping on my shoes, I felt something crunch underfoot. It was a cherry blossom branch.

He said he would come once a month. No wonder, I thought with a smirk.

I wasn’t attentive enough to place the branch Woonu had broken off into a flower vase or pluck off its petals and dry them in between books. Instead, I simply dismissed them as inconsequential. I thought the promise he made me was only worth that much.

There is no weight in the promises made between strangers. No, the weight of human existence is, in itself, so light that it’s almost laughable. But why has God bestowed such a heavy burden of life upon beings as light as ourselves? Using such methods, I took those false words—the kind of bullshit an adolescent boy would say—and transformed them into polished writing before submitting it. After wrapping it up in a nice cover, it was then published as a quadrangular book, and I was thus labeled as an author with a sophisticated and bitter view.

So how could I ever believe that homosapiens, myself included, carry any sort of weight? Those who were fixated on my mimicry of weight—the mimicry of someone who was so light they could flutter away any second now—were subject to ridicule, and I, a human being who knew only to laugh and mock others, completed that pathetic circle.

Yet another childish circle was drawn. It was time for me to release a new book. There was no such thing as wait; my mindset was the same as it had been since my first publication. Whatever I was waiting for no longer existed in this world. I never bothered to count how many books I’ve written, and once the final edited copy was submitted, I never read it again. There was a time when I grappled with whether what I was doing was a clear deception towards my readers. The advice I received via email from my editor, whom I’d never even met before, was quite memorable.

[If you think writing is fun, then keep at it. But if you no longer find it fun, just quit. Another writer will fill the space you leave behind. There’s no reader in this world who only reads your books. Some people just happen to prefer your work, even though they read lots of other things.]

I thanked my editor, who folded my inflated ego back to its original size.

I twirled the broken branch between my index and my thumb. The large cherry blossom tree in my garden could be seen even from the outside, but Woonu had snapped off the branch of yet another cherry blossom tree to gift to me. Foolish rascal. In some respects, my mom was the same, and it irked me at times. It was all due to my twisted nature, which scorned the gentle and kind.

When my mom asked me to accompany her to the market, even though we could just get our things delivered or have someone else go in our stead, I told her no in the meanest way possible. My father would’ve given me a huge scolding had he witnessed it, but my mom just left me be. Despite going to the mart with my father on weekends, she insisted on taking my younger sister’s hand and buying stuff like large and heavy watermelons by herself on the weekdays.

Even though I acted all mean, when my mom and Jaehee were late, I’d find myself perched on the toenmaru, waiting for them. If they still didn’t come, I’d stand by the gate, and eventually, I’d start wandering the neighbourhood. Upon spotting them from a distance, I’d purposely walk towards them with slow steps, my face all scrunched up as I took their baggage.

I should’ve asked her why she felt the need to personally purchase something so heavy that it left red marks on the palm of her hand. I will never know why. There are still so many things that I’m curious about. The longer you live your life, the more questions seem to accumulate.