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The excitement of the date was fleeting as Kang Il-hyun's car had been heading somewhere increasingly strange. Leaving central Seoul behind, they entered what was commonly called a daldongne—a slum neighborhood. Eventually the road narrowed so much they had to stop mid-way and get out.
After stepping out of the car, Ja-kyung hesitated when he spotted a small corner store at the entrance of the neighborhood. In front of the dilapidated store, a white-haired old woman with a deeply bent back sat on a wooden platform, peeling garlic. She raised her head at the arrival of unfamiliar guests. Seeing the large mole near her eye, Ja-kyung stepped backward.
"Need something?"
Perhaps her hearing was poor, her voice was raised to its fullest. Memory quickly shifted to the past. In those days, hunger was everyday life, and unable to bear the emptiness in his stomach, he would often stop by stores to steal bread. He was sometimes caught and beaten for it, but the store owner's mother, exceptionally kind-hearted, would shield Ja-kyung and secretly press bread or milk into his hands. And she too had a large mole near her eye.
A warm touch reached Ja-kyung's back as he retreated. A hand settled on his shoulder. Ja-kyung turned to face Il-hyun.
"This place..."
"Remember?"
"How did you know?"
"There are many ways to know."
Ja-kyung fell silent. He surveyed the neighborhood once more. The stairs he used to climb delivering medicine, the spaces where he hid to escape his parents' beatings—all remained exactly as they were. Standing there unable to bring himself to go up, Il-hyun extended his hand.
"Want to go see the house where you lived?"
"..."
"If it's uncomfortable, just say so. We can go back."
Ja-kyung remained silent. After leaving Korea, he had never wanted to set foot in this place again. But once life became somewhat bearable, he found himself curious at times. How had that place changed? Would the house where he lived still exist? He could have found it if he tried, but he never had the courage. Yet now that he was actually here, it wasn't as frightening as he had imagined.
While he was lost in thought, Il-hyun went into the store and came out holding two ice creams. Whether he paid with a card or not, a man's grumbling voice could be heard from inside. He peeled the wrapper and handed one to Ja-kyung. Accepting it in a daze, he saw Il-hyun already taking a bite.
The sight of Kang Il-hyun eating a 1,000-won ice cream was as unfamiliar a scene as seeing Wang Han with thickly grown hair. With strawberry ice cream in his mouth, he spoke gently.
"Think you can make it up?"
He extended his hand. Ja-kyung stared at it blankly before taking the first step. Kang Il-hyun followed and grabbed his hand. It felt strange for two large men to hold hands walking up, so he kept pulling away, but eventually they climbed the hill with fingers interlaced.
Graffiti in red lacquer marked spots along both sides of the alley, and here and there along the path, elderly people sat out enjoying the air. As they continued up the steep hill, perhaps from the heat, he removed his jacket and draped it over his arm, rolling up his sleeves.
The stairs where someone had once fallen to their death, the house where Mr. Wang had lived—all remained in their places. As old memories resurfaced, his chest grew heavy. Whether from exertion or something else, his steps grew increasingly weighted.
As they neared the house, his breath tightened until he could no longer move forward. His palms grew sweaty; he unclasped their fingers and wiped them repeatedly against his pants.
"Want to go back?"
At Il-hyun's question, Ja-kyung quietly shook his head. Even so, having come this far, he was curious. In front of the firmly closed blue iron gate, Ja-kyung took a long, deep breath. He felt that the moment he opened this door and entered, his hair would be grabbed, his face crushed underfoot.
His dead mother would scream with a demon's face and rake his body with ghost-like fingernails. His terrifying father would curse and raise a club to beat him. Unable to take another step, he finally managed to place his hand on the door.
The cold metal sent a chill through him. He pushed it open slowly. Creak—Ja-kyung stopped as he crossed the threshold. The front yard had become an entire flower garden. It was clearly tended with devotion. The house too had been completely cleaned and transformed, now giving off a modest, cozy feeling.
Ja-kyung pulled at Il-hyun's arm.
"Let's go... Someone seems to be living here."
Il-hyun didn't even pretend to hear. He went to the wooden porch and sat down with a thud, then pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. After lighting it, he tapped the spot beside him, gesturing for Ja-kyung to come sit.
Ja-kyung looked around as he stepped inside.
"There seems to be... an owner."
"There isn't."
No matter how he looked, signs of habitation were obvious. Otherwise, how could it be this clean? He couldn't imagine this was the same house he had lived in. On closer look, the wall was covered with red roses climbing in vines.
As he cautiously sat at the edge of the porch, Il-hyun moved closer and placed a cigarette between his lips.
Then, still wearing his shoes, he climbed onto the porch and lay down using Ja-kyung's thigh as a pillow.
"Ah, comfortable."
Ja-kyung exhaled a long stream of smoke and gazed around the house. It had changed so much he wondered if it was really the same place. Perhaps because it was at the very top of the hill, sitting in the shade was actually quite cool. The breeze cooled the sweat on his forehead—it felt like he could breathe again.
Ja-kyung, who had been surveying the yard, looked behind him. He could see the firmly closed door of the inner room. Even now, it seemed his mother might still be inside, entertaining strange men. Staring blankly, he lowered his gaze to look at Kang Il-hyun. He had closed his eyes and wasn't moving.
"Sleeping?"
"No."
"How did you know... about this place?"
Il-hyun opened his eyes. His languid pupils reflected Ja-kyung's face in full.
"Last year, while looking for you after you ran away, I found out by chance."
Last year... Looking at the flower beds and the pretty flowers on the walls, a thought crossed Ja-kyung's mind. Il-hyun sat up and met Ja-kyung's gaze with a somewhat serious expression.
"It had been empty for so long that dust was piled high. People said ghosts appeared there, so no one would live in it or even touch it."
"..."
"I was curious about what you were like as a child."
Il-hyun paused, recalling that time. Household items scattered in disarray, what he found searching through the room were various adult products, small amounts of drugs, empty liquor bottles, and playing cards.
"But there were no traces or belongings of a child being raised, so I wondered if I'd come to the wrong place."
Ja-kyung gently bit his lower lip. There couldn't have been such things in the first place.
"Fuck. At least if they were going to shit you out into the world, they should have taken at least one photo. Don't you think?"
The only children's clothes he managed to find were a few truly ragged pieces. Not worn from age, but in that condition from the start. Toys, notebooks, writing implements—none could be found at all. Il-hyun ground his teeth, hatred in his eyes.
Seeing him take his side like this, Ja-kyung's nose stung for no reason. When he said it was fine since it was all in the past, Il-hyun rose from his seat and walked toward the flower bed. He took out a cigarette to smoke, and Ja-kyung thought he was trying to cool off, but instead he entered the flower bed and began snapping off the flowers blooming here and there.
Ja-kyung frowned.
"Why are you picking perfectly fine flowers?"
He didn't even pretend to listen, continuing to pluck them, then holding the bunch, he slowly walked across the yard. With his loosened clothes, cigarette in mouth, and randomly gathered flowers in hand, he looked like a villain from some movie.
There was an atmosphere about him like he might suddenly pull out a gun and shoot. But instead of a gun, he abruptly thrust out the flowers. When Ja-kyung stayed still in surprise, he ground out the cigarette on the ground and smiled brilliantly.
"Comfort for you, who grew up without love in childhood."
Ah, what is wrong with this man. Breathing in, that smell from back then seemed to rise. Alcohol. Heavy cosmetics. Cigarettes. The fishy scent of semen. Blood. His parents' voices screaming that a bastard like him should never have been born.
Ja-kyung kept his gaze fixed on the ground, unable to lift his head. His nose stung and his eyes burned.
"Honey, take them before my arm falls off."
At his jest, Ja-kyung raised his head. Instead of the parents who tormented him, a man handsome as a painting was holding out flowers and smiling magnificently. The scent of flowers was thick enough to make his head spin. He took them absently, and then Il-hyun pulled out his phone and sat right beside him.
Without a word, he turned on the camera. His own image next to Kang Il-hyun looked awkward.
"What are you doing?"
"Commemorative photo."
His mind went blank. He tried to flee because he didn't want this, but was caught and forced to have his photo taken. Ja-kyung's expression in the picture was absurd. Kang Il-hyun looked at it disapprovingly.
"Fuck. It looks like I'm the only one who likes you."
At the childish complaint, Ja-kyung couldn't help but laugh. Il-hyun gazed at his laughing face for a moment, then pulled the back of his head and captured his lips. His tongue entered through parted lips, rubbed wetly, and withdrew.
Then he held him tightly, his large hand continuously stroking his back and head.
"Thank you for growing up well."
His throat constricted. Those were words you'd normally hear from parents. Ja-kyung buried both eyes in Kang Il-hyun's shoulder. It truly felt like tears might pour out.
"From now on, all the love you need—I'll give it all to you."
The quietly whispered confession sounded good.
If only not for that last line, it would have been a memory without compare.
"If you ever receive it from someone other than me..."
He stopped speaking, and Ja-kyung stopped breathing.
"Then we'll both be buried together in this flower garden. Understood?"
When he raised his head with a scowl, Il-hyun pressed Ja-kyung's head back against his shoulder and patted his back soothingly. Good boy. It's alright.
Despite the terrifying words, his voice was gentler than ever.
Whether it was a confession or a threat, he truly couldn't tell.