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    Invitation to the New Seoul (2)

    I slowly lifted my head and looked at the top of the wall.

    It’s huge. I’m not even that short, but if I have to tilt my head to look up, just how many meters is it? Maybe around 3 meters?

    “Was it always this high?”

    I rubbed my neck and looked around. I don’t know when the last time the wall was painted was, but the white paint was peeling off, revealing the gray cement underneath. It was a clear sign of the passage of time, and it made me realize that this was indeed my grandmother’s house. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the unfamiliar scenery nearby.

    On the wall was a red sign that said [Under Camera Surveillance]. It was probably a warning not to litter, but it seemed to have a different meaning. [Under Camera Surveillance: No Crime Allowed] That’s how deserted this alleyway is. It’s hard to believe that this is in the middle of Seoul.

    My grandmother’s house was stuck in time. While the old buildings around it had been torn down and replaced by franchise coffee shops, organic vegetable stores, well-known bakeries, and celebrity-owned bars, my grandmother had lived in this one-story house ever since I was born.

    It wasnā€™t the kind of place with an electronic lock that opens by entering a password on a touchpadā€”it still used an old-fashioned key. Noticing how the keyhole had become worn and rusted, I pressed the rubber-covered doorbell.

    Ding-dong.

    The old-fashioned analog bell rang out. There was no response from inside. I pressed the bell again.

    Ding-dong, ding-dong.

    Silence. The sound of the wind rustling the leaves of the trees was so loud that it was deafening. I waited, but there was no response, so I went up to the gate.

    I made a visor with my hands and looked through the crack in the iron gate. I could see a lush tree and a cluster of red flowers in the front yard, but there was no sign of anyone. Clearing my throat, I shouted.

    “Grandma, it’s Hyunho!”

    Could she not hear me? Or was no one home?

    “Grandma!”

    Even though I called out again, I didn’t see my grandmother coming down the yard, asking, “Is my little one here?” Normally, I would’ve thought no one was home and left it at that. But this time, I couldnā€™t turn away.

    I haven’t been able to reach her since yesterday. My heart sank at the thought that she might have collapsed at home, unable to support her aging body. Should I call the police or an ambulance, just in case? I should at least call my momā€¦

    I was thinking about this and that when I pushed the iron gate with my palm.

    Creeeaaaak.

    The rusty hinges let out a screech, like the cry of a rusty hinge. It felt as if I were opening the gate to an abandoned house. A chill ran down my spine, and I hesitated. Something felt off.

    “Grandma?”

    I poked my head through the open door. My gaze was drawn to the bright red flowers that filled the yard. Half of the unknown flower heads were in bud, and the other half were blooming, swaying in the wind. The petals were so crimson that they looked like they were stained with beast’s blood. The front yard, which seemed to be at least thirty pyeong[1] in size, was overflowing with red, and I felt nervous under its overwhelming atmosphere.

    It’s really eerie. The high wall that prevents anyone from approaching, and inside that wall, there’s a cluster of these strange flowers. It didnā€™t match my memory of my sweet and gentle grandmother at all. Hesitating, I gripped the iron gate ring and called out again.

    “Grandma! It’s Hyunho! Woo Hyunho!”

    My voice echoed off the tall walls, only causing the flower petals to tremble.

    I glanced once more at the [Under Camera Surveillance] sign on the wall, wondering if anyone would mistake me for a burglar. As I closed the gate, I raised my voice so anyone nearby could hear.

    “I’m coming in!”

    Creeeaaak!

    I shut the iron gate firmly behind me. Walking through the thick field of red flowers, I finally saw the main floor of the house. The windows facing the yard were closed, but the front door was half-open.

    The same with the outer gate, and the same with the front door. It felt strange that the door opened as soon as I touched it. Had Grandma forgotten to lock up? Maybe she just left in a hurry to run to the supermarket. I was debating what to do next.

    Ring-ring.

    The phone rang from inside the half-open front door. It kept ringing loudly, with no one answering. Was no one really home?

    Ring-ring, ring-ring.

    I took off my shoes and crossed the living room. I picked up the landline phone on the table. Grandma had personally knitted clothes for the handset and body of the phone, but I didnā€™t have time to appreciate the warmth of the soft fibers.

    “Hello?”

    The voice I had been desperately hoping to hear came through the receiver.

    <Is this Hyunho?>

    It was Grandma!

    “Yes! I was worried. Where did you go, leaving the door open?”

    The grandmother replied in a loving voice, unusual for someone over seventy.

    <I thought you’d be there. You really are in that house.>

    ā€œHuh? Oh, right. How did you know I was here and called?ā€

    <I’ll explain later. For now, can you come out of that house?>

    That house? Does she mean to leave grandmaā€™s house?

    I tilted my head, wondering what she meant.

    ā€œGrandma, where are you?ā€

    <I’ll tell you later. Just come out first.>

    ā€œMom’s worried.ā€

    <I know. Just tell her I’ll be in touch in a month.>

    ā€œA month?ā€

    Is she going somewhere far? Given her age, I worry about her health if she stays away for too long. If she were someone who usually traveled, I would have answered cheerfully, “Have a good trip. Tell me all about it when you get back.” But she had never mentioned going anywhere. Grandma doesn’t have good knees, so she usually limits her outings to about an hour or so. For someone like that to go on a long trip for a monthā€¦

    <I can’t stay on the phone longā€¦ because it won’t workā€¦ yes.>

    Crackle.

    There was noise on the line, and I couldnā€™t make out her voice, which was being drowned by mechanical sounds. I quickly moved the phone to my other ear and called out to her.

    ā€œGrandma.ā€

    <When the flowers bloomā€¦ it will happen. Flowersā€¦ be carefulā€¦>

    ā€œGrandma, the connection is terrible. I’ll call you back. Can you tell me your number?ā€

    <If you come, it will be a disasterā€¦ our Hyunhoā€¦>

    Her voice, which had been cutting in and out, finally turned into complete static.

    Crackle, crackle.

    The sound of crumpling paper filled the receiver. Since it wasnā€™t an internet phone, there was no caller ID. I had no way of knowing where Grandma was calling from.

    Feeling frustrated, I put the phone down and sat on the living room sofa for a while. I waited for the phone to ring again, but it didnā€™t.

    Whatā€™s going on? Is Grandma in danger? Sheā€™s never done anything like this before.

    I fiddled with my phone for a bit before deciding to call Mom.

    Turr, turr.

    Mom didnā€™t answer. After the meaningless ringback tone, the call went to voicemail. I hung up and thought about what to do next. I searched online for ways to track a phoneā€™s location, but there was no way for a civilian like me to trace Grandmaā€™s number without reporting it to the police.

    I looked up at the old grandfather clock.

    Tick-tock, tick-tock.

    It was the only sound echoing through the empty house. As I listened to the steady ticking, I calculated the time I had left.

    ā€œThere are two hours until the train leaves. It takes less than 15 minutes to walk to the station.ā€

    Thereā€™s still plenty of time.

    Alright, let’s not panic and letā€™s not rush. I just need to make sure Grandma is okay. Or at the very least, get in touch with Mom to explain whatā€™s happening.

    Hiding my anxiety, I turned my gaze to the window. The crimson flowers in the yard were swaying in the wind, their red petals fluttering wildly.

    ā€˜Flowersā€¦ be carefulā€¦ā€™

    I couldnā€™t shake the moment when Grandmaā€™s tired voice mentioned flowers.

    What could be so important about those flowers? Could it really be more important than telling me where she was or what she was doing?

    I stared at the flowers as if I was in a staring contest with them and took a picture on my phone. When I checked online, the name that came up was ā€˜Seoksan.ā€™

    [ Seoksanhwa

    • Other name: Red Spider Lily
    • Origin: China, East Asia
    • Habitat: Around temples, foothills, and grasslands
    • Flower meaning: Impossible love, sorrowful love, sad love, true love ]

    It didnā€™t seem like a flower many people knew about. It wasnā€™t exactly ornamental. A group of them blooming together looked less pretty and more eerily brilliant, almost like they were poisonous. The tragic meaning of the flowers matched their unsettling appearance. If you snapped the stem, it almost felt like blood would seep out instead of sap.

    Ding-dong.

    A message notification from a friend popped up.

    [Woohyun, want to meet early at the cafe?]

    I stared blankly at the screen. I knew I should reply, but my fingers wouldnā€™t move. Something felt off. My body started to feel heavy.

    [WoohyunWoohyunWoohyunWoohyun what are you doing taking a shit?]

    Ding-dong, ding-dong, I couldn’t move a single finger despite the ringing sound.

    [Wishing you a smooth bowel movement]

    I felt as if my body was submerged in water, unable to exert any strength. My head became dizzy in an instant as drowsiness washed over me like waves. I blinked my eyes, trying to shake off the drowsiness, but my surroundings just kept getting blurrier.

    Through my heavy eyelids, I could still see the seoksanhwa flowers swaying in the wind. The buds moved like upside-down hanbok skirts, the women who wore them seemingly standing on their heads, shaking the skirts.

    The flowers rooted in the ground felt more like human heads, as if they would pull themselves out of the dirt and stare at me.

    My head spun at the eerie thought.

    Swoosh.

    The sound of the wind, like waves crashing, was the last thing I heard before I closed my eyes. The crimson petals lingered like an afterimage inside my eyelids, refusing to fade. It almost felt like the flowers were laughing at me.

    Footnotes:

    1. pyeong: Traditional Korean unit of area measurement. 1 pyeong ā‰ˆ 3.3 square meters.

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