Jongno, Seoul.
After meeting with an employee at a construction company,
I stood there blankly for a long time.
The conversation had been shocking,
but more than that, I had nowhere to go.
I had no destination.
If I had known it would be like this, would it have been better to just stay in the Congo?
I wondered if I had come back to Korea for nothing.
Even so.
Even so, I took out my phone and searched for nearby hotels.
I had to sleep, after all.
My father never cared where I slept
or where I lived,
but I am different.
I will treat myself with care.
I will eat well, and wear fine things.
I had a lot of money.
I was not the Gong In-bae from two years ago.
I hadn't even touched my salary or allowances,
and the cryptocurrency I'd bought following my seniors had yielded pretty good returns.
Not to mention.
The money I'd stashed in my inventory when I was caught by the Mujin Construction guys was still intact,
and the bag full of dollars I'd taken from a rebel stronghold not long ago was still there too.
It was paltry compared to that money,
but there was also the money I'd earned selling ice cream,
and the money from part-time jobs before enlisting.
Money can't fulfill its role sitting in an inventory.
Money has value only when spent.
Today was a good day to spend money.
I started walking.
After a short walk, a department store appeared.
Without hesitation, I pushed through the large glass doors of the department store.
The moment I stepped inside, along with the blast of cool air conditioning,
came the unique department store scent—a mixture of perfume and cosmetics.
It was the scent of wealth that had always intimidated me.
As a child, I would shrink back whenever I caught this smell.
It was a scent I didn't possess, a scent absent from everyone around me.
But not anymore.
I don't cower at these things anymore.
Without money, they would see me as worse than a bug on the street,
but a department store is where people gather who would lick even my toes if I spend money.
I went straight to the luxury boutique on the first floor.
The moment I entered, cold eyes looked me up and down.
Familiar.
A gaze I'd received plenty of times in this city.
Their eyes were full of suspicion, but their mouths were smiling.
An expression created by capitalism.
But it didn't matter.
No matter what face that woman made.
"I'd like to purchase a suit. Could I ask for a recommendation?"
"Excuse me?"
Did she think I would just fiddle with the clothes, look at the price tag, and slink back home?
I don't even have a home.
"I'm saying I want a recommendation! I don't know what to choose!"
"Ah... yes, yes, yes. I'm sorry. The suits are over here. This piece is from our classic line for this season's new collection..."
Had my slightly forceful tone changed her mind?
The suspicious gaze toward me vanished.
Instead, I glimpsed a desperation not to give me any cause for complaint.
She seemed anxious that I might file a claim.
"Can I try this on?"
"Yes. Of course."
I took the clothes into the fitting room and tried them on.
Maybe because it was luxury, it clung to my body perfectly.
I looked different in the mirror.
So this is why people wear designer clothes.
When I came out wearing it, the female employee made a polite fuss.
"Sir, that suits you so well. You're tall and have an excellent physique, so you're a perfect match for our brand. The fit is so precise, I don't think there's anywhere that needs altering."
"I'll need shirts and shoes to go with this as well."
"Yes. I'll prepare them right away."
I got the shirts and shoes and put them on too.
With the full set, I looked much better.
A handsome man stood in the mirror.
He really looked like a model.
"I'll wear this out. And do you have this suit in another color?"
"We have it in navy blue."
"Give me one in navy blue in the same size, and a few more shirts as well."
"Yes, sir."
Her hands moved busily.
She carefully folded the clothes and placed them in shopping bags.
In an instant, she had sold two suits, seven shirts, and one pair of shoes.
"That will be 17,540,000 won. Will you be paying by card—"
"I'll pay in cash."
Pretending to take a pouch from my pocket, I drew it from my inventory.
I placed down three bundles, each containing one hundred 50,000-won bills,
then took out another bundle, roughly removed half, and counted.
48. 49. 50.
"That makes 17,500,000 won, right? Am I short 40,000? Here, one more."
I placed down another 50,000-won bill.
"Keep the change."
The female clerk looked utterly bewildered.
Had I given too large a tip?
That could be it.
I understand.
.
.
.
I exited the department store.
Nothing had changed.
I had merely changed my clothes.
Even so, I could feel the gazes upon me had shifted.
I had also bought a perfume steeped in the scent of wealth and doused myself as if pouring it on.
At this level, I figured the smell of poverty would be covered up.
I went to the hotel and checked in.
I had made a reservation because it was a hotel with a view of Gyeongbokgung Palace.
The panoramic view of Gyeongbokgung Palace visible the moment I opened the door.
I gazed at that scenery for a long time.
My house, where I used to live,
which had become an empty lot with nothing in it now, had also had its scenery,
but it had never been this moving.
Gyeongbokgung Palace, Gwanghwamun, and downtown Seoul were visible at a glance.
Countless people and cars passed by,
and splendid advertisements flashed across the electronic billboards.
I watched that sight for quite a while.
I checked the room.
A clean and luxurious-looking interior.
A clean, fluffy bed.
A bathroom without a drop of moisture.
Even the decorations that asserted their presence with the confidence that everything was exactly in its right place.
The price of one million won per night was a bit bewildering,
but I was someone who had just spent 17 million won on two suits.
And I'd even given a tip on top of that.
As much as 10,000 won.
Now that I was done looking around the hotel, it was time to work.
I took out bags from my inventory.
.
.
.
Wow.
My head hurts.
The scale is bigger than I thought.
17 bags in total.
3 bags with money.
14 bags with weapons.
The money was packed in units of one million dollars.
The weapons were a varied mixture of rifles, pistols, magazines, bullets, grenades, and explosives like C4.
The problem was that there was too much of it.
There were close to 30 rifles,
and over 50 pistols.
There were countless magazines and bullets.
There were also grenades and high-performance bombs.
What the hell were these rebel bastards trying to do with all this?
At this level, blowing up a village would be nothing.
I went to nearby Namdaemun Market and bought several bags that looked sturdy and tough.
The bags the rebels had used weren't bad, but since they were all the same color and size, I could get confused taking them out of my inventory.
So I bought several bags to pack them separately by color and shape to make them easy to distinguish.
My inventory can hold a lot more if I put things in bags.
If there are various shapes, sizes, and colors, I can use my inventory much more efficiently.
So I bought plenty.
I divided the money into smaller bags, 100,000 dollars each,
and organized the weapons by size and use,
separating the guns and magazines into smaller bundles.
Rifle bundles, pistol bundles, magazine bundles, and so on.
I set aside a few pistols and magazines separately,
so I could take them out and use them immediately in an emergency.
Doing this took over four hours.
The sun had set, and I was hungry.
Wearing my luxury suit,
I went to eat ox-blood hangover soup for dinner.
Holding the money a senior from my deployment had shoved into my hand, telling me to at least buy a meal.
I ate a bowl of the supposedly quite famous ox-blood hangover soup,
and since it felt like a waste to just turn in, I had a drink at a nearby bar.
The Seoul nightscape was amazing.
Just yesterday I had been catching rebels in the Congo,
and today I was wearing a luxury suit in Seoul,
drinking whiskey while looking at the night view.
Clearly.
Anyone could see that life in Seoul was far better.
In a hotel that cost one million won per night,
wearing a luxury suit and eating ox-blood hangover soup—life was so much better.
But a corner of my heart remained uncomfortable.
I felt that this wasn't the place I was meant to be.
I didn't seem to fit with this city.
In this city, I felt like a foreigner.
Rather, when I was in the Congo, both my body and mind had been more at ease.
It was good that I had only booked the hotel for one night.
Not because it cost one million won per night.
Tomorrow I would check out
and leave Seoul.
Maybe I would travel around like before.
Or I should consider going back to the Congo.
Unlike traveling, going back to the Congo required the unit's help.
If there was a flight heading to the Congo, I would hitch a ride; otherwise, I would have to wait until the unit's return date.
And so, my time in Seoul ended in a single night.
It was just one night out of twenty-nine.
The remaining twenty-eight nights were deeply worrying.
I was at a loss about what to do.
.
.
I woke up at dawn.
I guess I really am a soldier.
When six o'clock hit, my eyes opened.
I went to the hotel gym and worked out lightly,
and swam in the swimming pool.
I ate breakfast and packed my things.
Though I had no luggage,
I somehow felt like I had to.
I put the clothes delivered from the department store into my inventory.
Check-out preparations were complete.
But my feet wouldn't move.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
I just sat there.
If I left here, there was nowhere to go.
I could stay one more night,
but I didn't want to.
It was uncomfortable.
It was soft and comfortable,
everyone was kind,
but that kindness,
and a life designed to be excessively comfortable, were uncomfortable.
It didn't feel like it was mine.
Rather, the 20,000-won guesthouse from when I traveled alone had been more comfortable.
More than the well-prepared breakfast,
I missed that table where the guesthouse owner lady had shoved a spoon into my hand telling me to eat with her,
a table laid with nothing but vegetable side dishes and soybean-paste stew.
I came out and walked.
When I was thrown out onto the street, only then did my heart feel a bit at ease.
As expected, my roots seem to be the pavement.
Did my father know these roots of mine and try to make me live on the streets?
I ate a hamburger for lunch,
and walked again.
If I had known I would walk this much, instead of a luxury suit,
I should have bought workout clothes.
Though I hadn't set a destination,
walking wherever my feet took me, I saw a familiar place.
Is that home?
No, the place that used to be home?
Is this the homing instinct?
I had come all the way here without realizing it.
But now there's nothing here.
Even the last house had been completely demolished.
Come to think of it, the memories remained.
Under that tree over there, I had been beaten by the older kids.
In that alley, the money from my first part-time job had been taken from me.
I recalled being mocked as a beggar under the stairs.
Wherever I looked,
there were only bad memories.
Just because I grew up in this neighborhood,
there was no need to be tied to a place with no good memories.
Let's break free now.
Let's leave this neighborhood and live somewhere else.
I don't know where it will be,
but somewhere my heart is at ease,
somewhere I can breathe comfortably.
That's enough.
Let's turn around.
From this neighborhood,
from my past.
I turned my steps
and started walking with my back to the neighborhood.
I will not return to this neighborhood anymore.
There is nothing left here.
If there is anything remaining,
I can just bury it.
Leaving the familiar streets and turning onto a main road,
I saw a familiar face.
Kwon Jua.
More than two years had passed since graduation.
In that time, she had become prettier.
I remembered eating instant noodles at home with her.
It had been fun.
Back then, I had been so anxious about my inventory being discovered.
Looking back now, it was a memory that made me smile.
So I did have a memory in this neighborhood that made me smile after all.
But,
Kwon Jua was also one of the memories to bury here.
I can just bury her.
One smile right now is enough.
.
.
.
"Hello?"
"Where are you?"
"I'm on my way back to base, sir."
"Why base?"
"I wanted to check if I can get to the Congo, and if possible, cross back over, sir."
"The Congo? Didn't we just come back from the Congo yesterday?"
"That's correct."
"So? Why go back?"
"Well...."
"Forget it. Let's meet first."
"If I go to base, the schedule—"
"Forget it. I'll send you an address, so come over."
Click.
The call ended, and a text came in with an address written on it.
Receiving Staff Sergeant Lee Won-jun's home address,
I hesitated for a long while, then turned in the direction of Staff Sergeant Lee Won-jun's house.
.
.
.
“What? Your house is gone?”
“Yes. It is.”
I went to Superior I Wonjun’s house with beef I’d bought.
An old apartment in Namyangju was his home.
These were people who already knew everything about my situation anyway.
There was no need to beat around the bush.
I explained briefly,
and they understood perfectly, without a single inch of deviation.
“Hey, you crazy bastard. Then you should’ve called—”
“I wanted some time alone… That’s why.”
“Where have you been sleeping?”
“At a hotel.”
“From now on, when something like this happens, you report to me first. Got it?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
“We could’ve had a real disaster because you didn’t call. But why’d you buy this?”
“I bought it because I wanted to eat it. And I wanted you to grill it.”
“Then you should’ve just bought enough for yourself. Why’d you get so much?”
“Don’t I eat a lot? That’s why I bought plenty, obviously.”
That was when my sister-in-law appeared.
“I’ll grill it up nice and tasty. Eat plenty.”
She was a sister-in-law with a warm, kind impression, like the eldest daughter-in-law of a noble household.
She was so beautiful.
Either Superior I Wonjun had saved the nation in his previous life,
or my sister-in-law had sold it out.
“I’ll handle the grilling. I’m good at cooking meat. I even worked part-time at a grill house.”
“Oh, really? I used to work part-time at one too. And the guest isn’t the one who grills.”
“I’m not a guest. I’ll feel more comfortable if you make yourselves comfortable. So you’re Hojin. You’re a handsome boy.”
A child of about five quickly hid behind my sister-in-law.
He was the spitting image of Superior I Wonjun.
“Buy yourself some snacks with this. It’s allowance from your uncle.”
I pulled out two or three fifty-thousand-won bills and held them out to the child.
The child fidgeted, and I Wonjun tried to stop me.
“Hey. What do you think you’re doing? Put that money away.”
“I’m giving my nephew his allowance.”
“Look at this bastard. Are you deaf?”
“Uncle’s arm is going to fall off. Take it.”
After a brief tussle, I succeeded in giving the allowance,
but I failed at grilling the meat.
Because I Wonjun had taken the tongs.
We grilled the meat, ate, and drank soju.
The 1,500-won soju
was far better than the 380,000-won whiskey I’d drunk alone yesterday while looking at the night view.
I Wonjun kept grilling the meat.
He’d grumbled about why I bought it,
yet like a mother bird, he deftly laid the meat before his wife and child.
He didn’t eat more than a few pieces himself.
There was a harmonious family here.
I’d only ever seen this on TV or YouTube; I’d never witnessed it in person.
Because I’d never once inserted myself into another person’s family.
Because everyone had always kept me at arm’s length.
Eating a meal nestled within another’s family.
I’d thought it would be terribly uncomfortable,
but it was better than I’d expected.
It was comfortable.
For a moment, I wondered if perhaps, in Namyangju, where I Wonjun lived,
I might be able to live not as an outsider, but as a local.