Yang’s Master Chapter 10.3 - The Man of Rumors

“That’s not mine.”

“Oh.”

Jang Jwin exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke and exclaimed in admiration.

“Don’t go near our cute princess, I feel like your promiscuity will rub off.”

“……I haven’t done anything like that. I don’t plan to, either.”

It’s uncomfortable to even have to say such things to his employer. Feeling like he was about to get indigestion despite not having eaten anything, Yang Euijoo went outside. The man who had been lingering near the back door immediately lifted his head as soon as he saw Yang Euijoo. His eyes sparkled along with it. Feeling somehow nauseated by the feeling of having unwillingly met his expectations, Yang Euijoo stopped walking and held back a wave of nausea.

As soon as he was found out by Yang Euijoo, Cheon Yeomyung had dyed his blond hair pitch black again. As if he didn’t like the blond hair, he grumbled constantly and would occasionally pull at the hair covering his forehead to check the color. In place of the mysterious atmosphere, a string of evaluations on the street called him ‘sexy’. The Shanghai public security authorities seemed desperate to grab the British man, a criminal of public indecency walking the streets, and throw him behind bars, but it seemed impossible as long as the British Embassy stood behind him. Yang Euijoo decided, for the first time in his life, to cheer for the Shanghai public security authorities.

Why does he have a connection with the British government when all he does is sell drugs at best. Yang Euijoo looked at the man who seemed like he would live well even without doing dirty work. Cheon Yeomyung, who would come and loiter in front of the pharmacy at the slightest provocation, was surprisingly shameless. He acted as if all the violence he had committed against Yang Euijoo had never happened. Or it also seemed like he was trying to check on his life and death every day, just as Yang Euijoo had predicted.

“Why are you here?”

Cheon Yeomyung dropped the cigarette he was holding onto the ground and stubbed it out with the sole of his shoe.

“To have lunch.”

“Were we in a relationship to be having lunch together?”

“Even right before you stabbed your own stomach with a knife, we had lunch together, so is there any reason why it would be impossible now?”

Cheon Yeomyung’s words flowed like water. They were even logically plausible. Even in the basement, Cheon Yeomyung would occasionally watch Yang Euijoo lick his bowl clean, so regardless of their relationship, it was a bit of an overreaction to discuss their relationship over the act of sitting opposite each other and eating.

“I’m on duty.”

“It’s your lunch break, isn’t it?”

“It’s not enough to go out for a grand lunch.”

“I have no intention of eating grandly.”

Before Yang Euijoo could finish his sentence, Cheon Yeomyung snorted. He seemed to have changed, yet he wasn’t very different from before. With an elegant yet languid voice, he instantly crushed Yang Euijoo’s protest.

“Like you said, we’re not in a relationship to have a grand meal, are we?”

Then what was that meal at the basement restaurant. Yang Euijoo wanted to argue, but he realized that arguing about such things would be no different from whining, so he shut his mouth. Cheon Yeomyomyung, today as always, looked displeasedly at Yang Euijoo, who was in his worn-out jumper. But instead of saying anything else, he started walking first. Yang Euijoo watched his back. The man, who had walked a few steps alone, slyly turned his head and looked at Yang Euijoo.

There was no other choice. He didn’t want to show Jang Jwin and Wei Ran the sight of Cheon Yeomyung coming inside the pharmacy and spouting nonsense. Having no other option, Yang Euijoo belatedly started to walk, following behind Cheon Yeomyung. Occasionally, cars rumbled past on the bustling Shanghai streets. Cheon Yeomyung stopped walking every time a car brushed past them.

Cheon Yeomyung checked Yang Euijoo’s face every day and left. When a car passed, he was concerned that he might jump in front of it, and in the morning, he checked to see if Yang Euijoo’s face had changed from the night before.

But it wasn’t as if Yang Euijoo would act as Cheon Yeomyung wished just because of that.

Cheon Yeomyung, who had said he had no intention of eating grandly, chose not a restaurant with a roof and walls, but a simple street stall. The stall, which had roughly blocked the wind with vinyl sheets, sold wontons. Yang Euijoo only now realized that the place, which was usually tightly closed during the day, was actually a wonton shop, and only then did he learn that wontons were called huntun in Shanghai. It was Yang Euijoo’s most hated food.

Yang Euijoo glared at Cheon Yeomyung.

“Trash.”

“Calling trash ‘trash’ doesn’t sound like an insult.”

Cheon Yeomyung treated Yang Euijoo’s curse as if it were the chirping of a bird and pushed Yang Euijoo into the tent. The huntun shop, which had opened early in the afternoon, had quite a few people. They were all grumbling about the particularly chilly weather this winter.

“It’s a sign that the country is going to ruin.”

Said one worker wearing a gray padded outer garment.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Ugh, fuck……”

His colleague, glancing at Cheon Yeomyung and Yang Euijoo, nudged the man holding a bowl with his elbow. In an instant, the inside of the tent fell silent. Cheon Yeomyung, who had taken a seat in the most cornered spot with Yang Euijoo, whispered in his ear.

“You order.”

“……You don’t even know how to order?”

“It wouldn’t be good for me if word gets out that I’m fluent in Mandarin.”

Of course you would say that, Mr. Yosef. Yang Euijoo glared at the utterly shameless Cheon Yeomyung and ordered two bowls of the cheapest huntun. The owner glanced once at Cheon Yeomyung and then slammed the bowls down in front of each of them. Yang Euijoo put spicy seasoning into his huntun.

The huntun, with a lot of spicy chili oil seasoning, was warm. The broth, with egg stirred in, was savory and warm. It was not the familiar taste left in his memory. He knew that the wonton noodles sold for a cheap price at Yirang were not proper wonton noodles, but huntun was yet another different taste. Instead of noodles, Yang Euijoo spooned up the broth, which had thinly made dumplings plopped into it, little by little.

“How is it, aren’t you moved by the cheap taste?”

The man once again whispered nasty things in Yang Euijoo’s ear. I really want to rip that mouth apart. Yang Euijoo roughly put down the half-eaten food on the table. As soon as his eyes met Yang Euijoo’s, Cheon Yeomyung pulled up the corners of his mouth and drew a fake smile.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m conducting an experiment.”

“An experiment?”

“Look over there, they are all staring every time I talk to you.”

Cheon Yeomyung whispered lowly. Yang Euijoo was well aware of the ominous gazes inside the stall even without Cheon Yeomyung pointing it out. Every time Cheon Yeomyung’s lips, almost touching his ear, said something, the men’s eyes would roll wide. This kind of attention was not good. The Communist Party despised homosexuality. He couldn’t care less that they despised it, but Yang Euijoo had no nationality and Cheon Yeomyung did.

The part of being dragged away and tortured until his limbs were torn apart would also be Yang Euijoo’s share. He shot up from his seat. Then he hastily searched his pocket and took out money.

“That was a good meal. Here’s the money.”

“Uh huh, goodbye.”

The owner, who had been stirring a broth, took the money with a reluctant face. Yang Euijoo glared once at Cheon Yeomyung, then roughly scrubbed the ear where the hot breath had touched with the back of his hand and opened his mouth.

“Get up.”

He was close to being completely illiterate, but thanks to his experience working on the ship, he knew a few necessary English phrases. Of course, they were questions like asking to check a ticket or what room number it was, but no one would be able to understand him. Yang Euijoo, spouting whatever English he could remember, which he hadn’t used for years since getting off the ship, grabbed Cheon Yeomyung and dragged him out of the stall.

As Cheon Yeomyung was led out by Yang Euijoo, he said one thing.

“That was all wrong. Where on earth did you learn it?”

“You must be pleased that you could understand my mistakes.”

“Did I teach you English that carelessly?”

“Let’s get this straight. You never taught me anything.”

Yang Euijoo let go of Cheon Yeomyung and got angry only after they had walked to a deserted place. The only English he had taught Yang Euijoo was making him read fucked up and disgusting books. Even that was an act for prostitution. Although it was midday, a blade-like wind blew and slapped Yang Euijoo’s cheek. Irritation welled up impatiently in the cold. Yang Euijoo crossed his arms and hunched his body, enduring the wind. The winter wind was long. As he groaned and endured the cold that set his temper on edge, the man suddenly approached and grabbed his shoulder. Shit. Yang Euijoo roughly pushed Cheon Yeomyung’s arm away.

“What are you doing? What if someone sees?”

“Does that mean it’s okay if no one sees?”

“I’m not in the mood for word games.”

At Yang Euijoo’s sharp voice, Cheon Yeomyung shrugged his shoulders. He was looking at Yang Euijoo not with the distorted expression he had spat out the night before, but with a solidly refined one. And he belatedly asked about the coat.

“Why aren’t you wearing the coat?”

“Why should I wear that?”

The blade-like wind whipped his cheek. They say winter in Shanghai is on the warmer side? What nonsense, the weather was cold enough to freeze to death.

“You should wear it if you’re going to shiver so unsightly. Why do you think I left it for you?”

“I am really curious about what you’re thinking.”

Even a dog being raised on food scraps would be worried about in a more normal way than this. Yang Euijoo asked through clenched teeth.

“What is it you want to do?”

His clenched jaw, gaunt, trembled.

“Don’t tell me you’re now hoping for a relationship like before? Or did you come to check if I was really dead, and upon seeing me alive, you were disappointed you hadn’t tormented me enough? Why, why don’t you now say you’ll kill Mr. Jang or his daughter. I’m looking forward to when you’ll use that as a pretext to threaten me.”

The wind that blew through the alley was even colder than the one on the main street.

“Son of a bitch, you think everything is fine as long as you’re okay?”

“……”

“Nothing is fine. But I don’t want to kill you either. Do you know? That you can only do something if there’s at least some value in pouring out your emotions.”

Yang Euijoo could no longer hold it in and let out a rough cough. No answer came from Cheon Yeomyung, who was watching Yang Euijoo cough painfully as if laying bare his lungs.

His face looked complicated. It was evident that he hadn’t been sleeping properly. Perhaps the rumors about him that were shaking the streets were not just because he had dyed his hair black again. To reveal such an expression, it seemed his insides were quite noisy as well. Yang Euijoo was about to pass by the man who had no intention of answering and return to the pharmacy. But a reply that was far too late caught him by the ankle.

“I was only trying to confirm if you were dead.”

Yang Euijoo looked at Cheon Yeomyung. The complexion of the man who had returned to black hair felt gloomier than when he was blond. The dark black hair color gave him an insolent impression. The man, no longer hiding it, was dressed entirely in black. A coat that fell perfectly on his shoulders. A tailored suit inside the coat. Sleek shoes and gloves that perfectly hid his scarred hands.

Cheon Yeomyung took a cigarette out from inside his coat and put it to his lips. The man’s lips, which were originally smooth, were a little rough. Just before lighting the cigarette, he spun a tale.

“I found the cargo ship you boarded pretty quickly. But there was no body, only news that a severely injured man had gotten off in Shanghai with someone. From then on, I went back and forth between Shanghai and Hong Kong frequently. Because I had to find you myself.”

He struck a match. The match, lit with a single flick of his hand as if drawing an elegant stroke, lit the cigarette and then fell, mingling with the wind. In the strong wind, the match didn’t land near Cheon Yeomyung’s shoe, but flew all the way to the wall and got stuck there.

“I thought……, that I shouldn’t have let you go like that. It was just that.”

Cheon Yeomyung pressed his eyes firmly. The man looked at Yang Euijoo with bloodshot eyes. He couldn’t even smoke the cigarette properly, just puffed at it, creating and exhaling fake smoke. He looked to be in pain. Yang Euijoo suddenly realized. Cheon Yeomyung wasn’t incapable of empathizing with his pain in the basement. Rather, he was vulnerable to pain and suffering. That was why he was able to torture Yang Euijoo so horribly. He had acted, as much as he knew. Yang Euijoo thought that was Cheon Yeomyung’s most evil point.

“Why did you come to a place like this? It’s harder to live here than in Hong Kong.”

At Cheon Yeomyung’s words, Yang Euijoo opened his mouth, then pointed out his contradiction as if letting out a sigh.

“But what about you, setting up a shop here?”

“It’s just a front, anyway.”

The man, frowning unpleasantly, muttered as if crushing the cigarette with his lips.

“For tax evasion.”

What a human and shameless reason. Yang Euijoo slowly relaxed the tension in his shoulders. He put his cold hands into his pockets, but it was no use. His fingertips, having already lost their warmth, did not get any warmer.

“And Euijoo, there’s one thing you’ve forgotten……”

Cheon Yeomyung held the cigarette between his fingers and lifted his head. His eyes were sinister.

“We never broke up.”

“Are you crazy?”

At that moment, a rough question shot out without passing through Yang Euijoo’s head.

“I haven’t said anything wrong, have I?”

The man’s expression as he exhaled cigarette smoke was calm. He lifted his chin as if there was no problem whatsoever with what he had said.

“Have I ever said let’s break up?”

“Fuck, let’s break up right now, right now!”

“No.”

Cheon Yeomyung smiled fiercely. It was a rejection that thoroughly turned Yang Euijoo’s stomach upside down.

“Your opinion wasn’t important when we were dating, so there’s no way your opinion would be important when we break up.”

He dropped the half-smoked cigarette on the floor and pressed it down firmly with his shoe as he spoke.

“Now, go on inside. And wear your coat. It’s unsightly to see you shivering.”

Perhaps thinking he had turned his stomach enough, Cheon Yeomyung turned his back without listening to Yang Euijoo’s reply.

Yang Euijoo called after Cheon Yeomyung and spat out a rough curse, but the man did not stop. There was no late return like the night before. Yang Euijoo shivered in the chilly wind in the dark alley, and after gaining only a heartache, he trudged back to the pharmacy.

It was even more irritating when Jang Jwin cleared his throat and asked Yang Euijoo if his date went well. He couldn’t curse at his lifesaver, so he just gave him a murderous expression. Jang Jwin was a man who had experienced both the prosperity and decline of Shanghai, so he didn’t even pretend to be scared by Yang Euijoo’s glare and just bantered.

“Oof, you’ll kill someone with that look.”

“……”

“Just don’t go near my daughter. My daughter has to get properly married.”

Is this a contagious disease? If you were to nitpick about Cheon Yeomyung, a natural disaster would be more fitting than a contagious disease. And natural disasters are no big deal for the rich. It’s only the poor whose houses get swept away. Yang Euijoo, who was inured to poverty, said crookedly with a frown on his face.

“I should go on a date with Xuan when she comes in the evening.”

“What? No way!”

Jang Jwin glared at Yang Euijoo who said he would go on a date with his precious daughter and slammed his desk with dignity. To Yang Euijoo’s eyes, who had often experienced murderous threats from Cheon Yeomyung, Jang Jwin’s anger seemed as infinitesimally weak as an ant’s anger. He flicked away an ant crawling on his fingertip with a finger.

“Is it over just because Mr. Jang says no? What’s important is Xuan’s heart.”

“You bastard, my daughter is an absolute no!”

“I’m telling you to persuade Xuan.”

“Absolutely not. You rascal! Over my dead body!”

At Jang Jwin’s loud yelling, Wei Ran, who had just been listening, as if annoyed, scooped up a handful of sand from a flowerpot and pretended to throw it in her husband’s eyes. Jang Jwin whimpered sorrowfully and then quickly recovered, poking Yang Euijoo in the back.

“How about you leave work early today?”

A father’s jealousy was truly ugly. Yang Euijoo, who was cutting paper for powder medicine packaging into appropriate sizes and tying them into bundles of 50, glanced at Jang Jwin. Wei Ran, also finding her husband’s behavior pathetic, sat opposite him and glared at her husband together. Jang Jwin jumped up and down wretchedly.

“No, I’m absolutely not saying this because I’m worried about Xiao An! Thank you for being good to my child. Thank you. My child is very high and mighty among her friends these days, anyway, I’m saying this because you seem to have a cold.”

“My husband is saying something unbecoming, but from what I can see, you do seem to have a bit of a cold.”

Wei Ran finally took Jang Jwin’s side. She placed her rough palm, from working for a long time, on Yang Euijoo’s forehead. At the gentle touch, Yang Euijoo naturally recalled someone else’s scarred hands. Hands with burn scars here and there from splattering hot oil and soup.

“You have a slight fever……, I’ll get you some fever reducer, so go take it and don’t come out tomorrow, just rest well at home.”

“Right, right, while you’re resting, take a good long rest until the day after tomorrow!”

“Honey, don’t say things that are so obvious.”

Wei Ran, embarrassed by Jang Jwin, patted Yang Euijoo’s back.

“You’re sensitive to the cold, but aren’t you dressing too thinly? When you get home, don’t skimp on oil, turn on the stove and get a good sleep. I wish I could pack some porridge for you.”

“It’s……, it’s alright. There’s a place that sells porridge near my house.”

“Really? That’s a relief then.”

Wei Ran, who had stopped bundling the paper and stood up, rummaged through a drawer, grabbed a few packets of fever reducer, and handed them to him.

“You know how to take it, right?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t throw it away because it’s bitter, make sure to take it. And make sure to take the anti-inflammatory and cough medicine too. I’m worried because you’re not getting better.”

“I’m not a child……”

Yang Euijoo, with an embarrassed face, pushed the medicine packet into his pants pocket and took off the apron he was wearing. He took off his usual apron and hung it up, and untied the string that was tying up his quite long hair. The gray hair, with the mark from being tied still on it, flowed down. Wei Ran thought it would be good for Yang Euijoo to cut his hair short like a boy, but she did not say it out loud.

In fact, that ambiguous hair length suited Yang Euijoo quite well. The ends of his hair, with the tying marks left on them, were hidden by a scarf woven from drab yarn. Yang Euijoo blinked, with a few strands of hair stuck to his feverish cheeks. There was a reason why after he started working at the pharmacy, there was a line of customers who came to buy ointments they didn’t even need and asked for his name.

She gave Yang Euijoo’s thin fingers a firm squeeze, then tied the end of his scarf so it wouldn’t come loose easily, and sent him off from the pharmacy. Yang Euijoo gave Wei Ran a slight bow and then trudged home. It was the first time he had left work while the sun was still up.

As he was hit by the cold wind, he felt dizzy, as if he was really getting a fever. This is all because he spent time standing in an alley having a ridiculous argument with that man. Yang Euijoo coughed a few times, then buried his face deep into his scarf and got on the tram. It’s a good thing I left work when the sun was out. If I had left work after the sun had set, hit by the night wind, the cold would surely have gotten much worse, and I would have been sick the next day without being able to contact them.

When I get home, I’ll take the medicine, boil some water to drink, and then go to sleep. Yang Euijoo hunched his body as if to crumple it, wondering how much oil was left in the stove. I left the man’s coat at the pharmacy. It would be warmer if I wore it, but I can’t stand the dirty feeling.

His crooked face was reflected in the grimy, stained tram window. Instead of the splendid and beautiful Shanghai that Jang Jwin used to talk about, people were walking briskly down the streets, which had all turned monotonous and colorless, wearing padded outer coats to avoid the winter cold. Still, it never snowed. Yang Euijoo, who had been staring blankly outside, came to his senses only after he had passed his stop by a long way.

With every step he took, his fever rose. Groaning, it took him nearly an hour of walking to get home. Yang Euij-oo, without thinking about the cost of oil and firewood, immediately lit a fire. Still with his face half-buried in his scarf, flushed red, Yang Euijoo placed a kettle full of water on the slowly heating stove and tore open the medicine packet.

He took two cold medicines at once. He was planning to take the medicine and sleep straight through until tomorrow, so it was fine to take about two packets at once. If Wei Ran or Jang Jwin had heard, they would have yelled that he shouldn’t do that, but Yang Euijoo, who committed the act nonchalantly, got into bed with his outer clothes still on and curled up.

As soon as he got home, as if he had been holding it in, his body cried out with a feverish cold. His nose was running too. Pathetic. Yang Euijoo roughly scrubbed his face with a rough towel and then weakly pulled the blanket up over his head. He soon fell dead asleep. The sound of steam hissing from the boiling kettle echoed like tinnitus.

Yang Euijoo wandered through his dreams for a long time. The two packets of cold medicine seemed to be working strongly. Even when the kettle, its water all boiled away, made a dying sound, his body did not move an inch. The room was so dry that the inside of his nose and throat were parched. I want to drink water. I need to put water in the kettle too. Yang Euijoo, curled up in the blanket and groaning, finally gathered his courage and reached out his hand. But before he could even place his hand on the mattress and lift his body, someone grabbed the hand that had brazenly stuck out and pushed it back inside.

At the presence of another person, Yang Euijoo was so startled he almost fainted, shaking off the drowsiness he had, and poked his flushed face out from under the blanket. A peculiar gaze fell on Yang Euijoo’s face, drenched in sweat.

“Did you masturbate in bed or something?”

“You, crazy……”

“I’m just asking because it looks like you had a refreshing release.”

The man gave an unpleasant smile while making a sexually harassing remark without a second thought. Yang Euijoo looked at Cheon Yeomyung, who was spouting nonsense at a sick person, and asked in a very hoarse voice.

“How, did you get in.”

Watching Yang Euijoo, who was sick and huddled under a moldy-smelling blanket, Cheon Yeomyung twisted his lips in displeasure.

“The place where you keep the key was the same.”

“……”

“Isn’t the gap in the window too flimsy?”

“There’s nothing to take.”

He hadn’t even heard the sound of the door opening, whenever he had come in. At this rate, it wouldn’t be very strange if I were to actually get stabbed to death. Yang Euijoo glared at the man who had found the spare key and let himself into someone else’s house, then pulled the blanket up again. He did not want to fight with Cheon Yeomyung.

“I told you. You’d catch a cold if you kept going around looking like that.”

Cheon Yeomyung sneered. Yang Euijoo was so dumbfounded that he paused in pulling up the blanket and opened his mouth with difficulty.

“Get out before I report you for illegal entry.”

“Go ahead, I’m curious to see who gets arrested.”

Dirty identity. Yang Euijoo muttered a curse and looked at the man’s face, which was visible through the gap in the blanket. The man was sitting on the only chair with his arms crossed, glaring at Yang Euijoo. He still looked arrogant and insolent.

“Why are you here?”

“I came for an evening date, and they said you went home early because you were sick.”

“Ha……”

His head throbbed at the thought that he had spouted such bullshit about a date to Jang Jwin and Wei Ran. The officials in Shanghai now were conservative. Not just the officials, the whole of China was conservative. It was a completely different atmosphere from Hong Kong, where the cheongsam was quite popular and the light of loose debauchery was cast over the entire city. Although Jang Jwin had passed it off nonchalantly, it was obvious he would be flogged just for a report of being gay.

Since Cheon Yeomyung would not be unaware of such things, it was clear he was doing it on purpose. Yang Euijoo felt that he could list a hundred of Cheon Yeomyung’s problems, given that he felt more unpleasant and dizzy now, after sleeping and sweating with medicine, than he did before coming home.

“Do you have a thing for ruining other people’s lives?”

“Haven’t I already fucked up your life like a dog? I’m surprised you thought there was anything left to ruin. I guess my lover is quite generous.”

He was utterly shameless. Should I say it’s good that his self-awareness is on point? Yang Euijoo gripped the blanket tightly and let out a dry cough, looking up at Cheon Yeomyung. Yang Euijoo, whose face and neck were flushed red and wet from a high fever, really did look like someone who had just had wild sex. Cheon Yeomyung looked down at Yang Euijoo.

The gaze of one looking at what they had broken was peculiar.

“Then what did you come here to do……, did you come to watch a sick person?”

Still unable to grasp the point on the strange side, Cheon Yeomyung laughed as he looked at the face that was saying such innocent things like ‘watching.’

“When you get better.”

“……”

“When you get better, I’m going back to Hong Kong. I’m a man who holds a great grudge, you see. Fuck, you hit me over the head like that and left, and there’s not even a useful part of you left. Well then, shouldn’t we at least have sex? I can’t let this handsome body of mine go to waste, can I?”

My ears are going to rot. Is he possessed by a ghost who died because he couldn’t have sex? Even while sick, Yang Euijoo squeezed out his energy with the thought that he had to say at least one thing.

“Fuck, I said let’s break up……”

The feeble attack was immediately deflected.

“I said no.”

“Ha……”

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m a conservative man.”

Saying he didn’t want to break up with a face that looked like he was going to go crazy from not being able to slit someone’s throat didn’t evoke any empathy at all. Occasionally, his subordinates would take turns nagging the lazily acting Cheon Yeomyung, who seemed to have a screw loose, as if he were a child, and he now understood why.

The man, who he had only thought would occasionally whine like a child when he lost his formality, was now more impossible to communicate with than the fourteen-year-old Jang Xuan.

No, if anything, Jang Xuan was more mature than Cheon Yeomyung.

“Well, you’re a man too, Mister. Do you prefer a young girl over an old man, is that it?”

“Wha—, fuck, what are you really talking about.”

He wanted to shoot Cheon Yeomyung in the head with a gun and open it up to see inside. At the idea that was so trashy it was almost novel in its thinking, Yang Euijoo got fiercely angry without being able to open his eyes properly. Seeing Yang Euijoo spouting harsh curses, the man finally put something like a smile on his lips. The fact that it was an expression he made as if relieved only after insulting a person to the fullest extent infuriated Yang Euijoo.

“You were quite flustered. Do you like being called oppa? Ah, I see you’re an unavoidable man too, Mister. Well, what man would hate the title oppa?”

“Please just shut up and stop thinking like you do……”

“Come to think of it, you were closest to Linlin, Mister. Linlin looks quite young for her age, so she must have been just your type?”

“You son of a bitch, watch your mouth.”

“Honestly, I’m disappointed.”

Yang Euijoo could not shake the thought that if he only had the strength in his body, he would have jumped up from the bed and slapped either Cheon Yeomyung’s head or his lips with the palm of his hand. He wanted to somehow shut up Cheon Yeomyung, who seemed possessed by a demon, so he expressed his annoyance as best he could.

“Stop whining, please.”

At the choice of words that was so flat it lacked any sense of impact, Cheon Yeomyung, who had been sneering, snapped his mouth shut. Don’t you know what whining is? Mister, did you eat some of the musty revolutionary wind in Shanghai for a month and get the stupidity of socialism lodged in your brain? The man, who seemed like he would have spouted such bullshit, was strangely quiet.

Yang Euijoo peeked his eyes open and looked at Cheon Yeomyung. Cheon Yeomyung’s expression was strange. He looked as if his pride was greatly wounded, and in a way, he also looked a little embarrassed. Yang Euijoo was convinced that either he was crazy, or he was seeing things because his fever was too high. Or this could all be a dream. The dream option was, if anything, more plausible. Cheon Yeomyung being embarrassed was an act that could not be understood with the mindset of a normal person.

However, Cheon Yeomyung, as if to deny the chaotic escapism occurring in Yang Euijoo’s mind, uttered a single, curt phrase.

“I can whine if I want to.”

“……What?”

“Am I not allowed to whine?”

He asked bluntly. At that moment, Yang Euijoo’s mind went completely blank, and he couldn’t think of anything to say back. His mind was a complete blank slate, a mess as if the man had appeared and splashed lye all over it. Cheon Yeomyung, whining, acting like a child……, and saying he was disappointed. This was the same as a communist shouting for liberal democracy. No, Yang Euijoo thought that, at this moment, the latter sentence had more persuasive power and probability.

He was silent for a long time, unable to find the words, and finally, fumbling, he brought out one possible inference.

“……Did you perhaps, on your way here, do some drugs on the street or something? Or get your head bashed in as retaliation for living such a shitty life.”

“Aha.”

Only then did Cheon Yeomyung twist his lips with a more normal expression, one filled with malice and annoyance.

“If I weren’t in my right mind, you wouldn’t be able to just lie there so quietly in bed, Mister. I would have fucked you the moment I saw you lying down.”

Seeing the way he talked, he finally seemed a bit more normal. Yang Euijoo, with a relieved face, closed his eyes and comfortably pulled up the blanket. Then Cheon Yeomyung, filling the space where half the annoyance and malice had been with utter bewilderment, called out to Yang Euijoo.

“Mister, are you sleeping now?”

Once I got used to the man’s crooked words and harsh mockery, it actually brought a sense of stability. The man who threatened to do drugs and have sex was, if anything, less scary than the one who spouted nonsense about going on a date, calling himself Yosef like a madman. Because that side was easier to predict. Yang Euijoo cleanly erased his confused emotions and slowly breathed out. His heartbeat, which had been racing wildly in terror, also gradually stabilized.

“I asked if you’re sleeping now.”

Even while asking several times if he was sleeping, as if dumbfounded, the man never shook Yang Euijoo awake. He just said the words, but even his voice was cut in half, calling out softly, which was a ridiculous and pathetic sight. The voice, which pleaded about three or four times asking if he was really going to fall asleep and leave him alone, was a little similar to a certain afternoon long ago, when he had woken him from a deep sleep, pestering him to play.

Yang Euijoo, faintly sensing that Cheon Yeomyung could no longer treat him harshly, closed his eyes.

Don’t be sick.

It felt like an immature voice reached the ears of Yang Euijoo, who was being sucked back into sleep. It was a wish-like mumble, filled with a sigh. It’s your fault, so how can I not be sick. Yang Euijoo was about to point out the man’s flawed request but stopped. The expression on the man’s face that would be visible if he opened his eyes right now was more curious than the ending of the exciting fairy tale book that Jang Xuan had chattered about next to him.

So he intentionally did not open his eyes.

The interior of the room was excessively familiar. Antique wooden furniture made of dark rosewood and ebony. The canopy attached to the bed and the fluttering curtains were elegant and bore a striking resemblance to the owner’s characteristic indolence. The reason Yang Euijoo was able to not scream, open the window, and jump out was because of the sounds coming from outside. Whistles and loud shouts were clamorous through the window.

Yang Euijoo got up from the large bed and threw the window wide open. He could see flames in the middle of the street. Something was burning. It was obvious that it was antiques or books that had incurred hatred. Jang Jwin, who had done his fair share of studying, was tight-lipped about this situation. The citizens, cowering in fear, not only unconditionally followed the regime’s words but also fanatically agreed with them. Jang Jwin, too, had torn up the floor of his pharmacy, pushed in a crate where he kept his books, and then covered it with dirt to hide it. Jang Xuan substituted reading with the stories her father told her every night.

Long plumes of smoke rose as if to pierce the sky, and a man tied with a rope cried out something. He was dressed in an uncommon traditional attire. It was a street full of gray. Yang Euijoo’s eyes met with a woman who had opened the window opposite him and was looking down at the street. The woman was startled and hastily closed her window.

Yang Euijoo continued to watch below. The man cried out, shouting something as he watched the burning objects. The loose pajama top he had on fluttered, swept up by the wind.

“Close it.”

An annoyed voice came from behind him. An impatient arm reached out and roughly closed the window. Yang Euijoo slowly turned his head. Cheon Yeomyung, with a stiff face, was pouting his lips in displeasure. It was, pathetically, an immature expression.

“Are you resorting to kidnapping now?”

“Now?”

Cheon Yeomyung narrowed his eyes with a genuinely perplexed look.

“I’ve always done kidnapping.”

There was nothing to say. The man, who spoke of a crime as if it were a moderate act, grabbed Yang Euijoo and took him back to the bed. Only after lifting the fluttering curtains and pushing him into the disheveled blankets did Cheon Yeomyung look a little satisfied. Should I be glad that when I came to my senses, I wasn’t in the basement? Yang Euijoo lay down obediently and turned his head to the side. The man, with no intention of leaving early, pulled over a small chair and sat by the bedside.

The strong scent of damp wood clung thickly to him, making Yang Euijoo wrinkle his nose.

“The doctor saw you, and he said your stab wounds haven’t healed yet. Did you really think of working with that body?”

“……”

“It’s a good thing it’s winter, if it were summer, you would have had to have your organs removed.”

“What business is it of yours?”

“Indeed.”

Cheon Yeomyung acknowledged Yang Euijoo’s point.

“It is none of my business.”

The leather glove covering the back of his hand suddenly covered Yang Euijoo’s eyes. Cheon Yeomyung explained in a low voice.

“I’ve already contacted the pharmacy. Rest until tomorrow, and get treatment too.”

“You’re so very kind.”

Just the warmth of the hand covering his eyes brought an incomprehensible wave of drowsiness. Even though he had slept and woken up, his head still swayed as if there was sleep debt left to be settled. It was a natural thing, when he thought about it. Yang Euijoo had never rested properly. All that was left for him was poverty and fatigue. If he were to count his possessions, perhaps this man’s grotesque obsession would be one, but it felt too forced to say he possessed it.

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m a pacifist.”

“Just when are you going to retract that claim?”

“Well?”

The walking hotbed of crime replied with a nonchalant smile. It was a smile that the blindfolded Yang Euijoo could not see.

“To be honest, I thought it would be Hong Kong when I opened my eyes……”

“I can’t go because I need to create an identity for you.”

Cheon Yeomyung answered honestly.

“These days, the entry and exit inspections for foreigners have become strict. No matter how much this country is a place where things are handled haphazardly and can be solved with money, there’s no need to take a risk when they can just drag you away as a reactionary and kill you if you catch their eye. It’s better to stay in Shanghai until your passport is made.”

He could be given an order to be shot on the spot under the pretext of being a spy. As if finding Yang Euijoo pathetic for choosing this unlucky and crazy country among so many others nearby, Cheon Yeomyung spoke in a very low voice.

“Why didn’t you just die instead of ending up in Shanghai?”

“When I came to my senses, I was just here.”

Yang Euijoo tried to push Cheon Yeomyung’s hand away and get angry, but he couldn’t move the heavy arm at all.

“And I did try to die.”

“……”

“Fuck, I stabbed myself three times.”

“Fled after self-harming the shoulder, abdomen, and side with a knife with a 12cm blade.”

Cheon Yeomyung calmly recalled the act Yang Euijoo had committed while running away.

“It’s a miracle your internal organs weren’t injured. No, if they were injured, you would surely have died, so is this better? That’s a shame. Next time, I’ll tell them to sharpen the decorative knife well too.”

“……”

“Because of your escape, Linlin and Yizirang were punished by being locked in the basement for a week. You’ve got a basement buddy, so if you meet again, you can share your experiences as a way of catching up.”

At the mention of Linlin, Yang Euijoo flinched. Thinking of the log-shaped cake that had slipped from his hand and fallen made him feel strange. He had only wanted to escape from that mansion, from the man’s hands, but it seemed he had left behind too many scars. Seeing the suddenly quiet Yang Euijoo, Cheon Yeomyung felt an ugly feeling of spite welling up and got up from his seat. It was obvious he would only get dumber if they talked any more.

“Rest. You have to go home when you wake up, right?”

He chuckled, and after throwing out words that would make it absolutely impossible to sleep peacefully, he left the room.

“Is that my home.”

With a final mumble that Cheon Yeomyung could not hear, Yang Euijoo obediently pulled the blanket over himself. The nausea and rejection that came every time he faced Cheon Yeomyung were swept away by sleep and slowly disappeared. Even as he sought sleep, Yang Euijoo thought himself very pathetic. Why didn’t you just endure it in Hong Kong?

The decision had been impulsive and radical, as if he had been possessed by a ghost. It was something the current Yang Euijoo could not even imagine.

One thing was certain, then and now, Yang Euijoo lacked will. Why didn’t I stab my guts? Yang Euijoo cursed his own tenacity for surviving even after bleeding so much and pulled the blanket tighter. The thick goose-down blanket, far from smelling of mold, had the soft and cool scent of laundry detergent. It was in moments like this that Yang Euijoo felt he was lying in the man’s house.

The antique furniture and draped curtains must all be Cheon Yeomyung’s taste. In appearance, at least, he was like an elegant man. Yang Euijoo closed his eyes, watching the wind blowing from somewhere shake the curtains draped over the bed.

The kidnapping he himself had acknowledged was more peaceful than expected. Cheon Yeomyung did not suddenly change his mind and inflict any harm on him, nor did he annoyingly pester him to get up. Yang Euijoo woke up caught between sufficient rest and hunger.

He got up, seeing his old jumper, which was not there before, hanging on the back of a chair. On the small table next to the bed, the ominous knife from Cheon Yeomyung’s mansion and his house key were placed side by side. Yang Euijoo unfolded the jumper, which had been folded in half. It seemed to have been washed in the short time, as the musty old smell was gone and a rather nice scent wafted from it.

Yang Euijoo stretched his stiff body from sleeping too long, picked up the jumper, and walked outside. The house, being in the middle of Shanghai, was inside a regular building, not a mansion. It was a rather cozy-structured residence, as if Cheon Yeomyung lived there alone. It had three bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and dining area, and a bathroom. It seemed the man was living and using it by himself.

As Yang Euijoo wandered around, looking at the inside of the house, he discovered something very peculiar in the kitchen. It was a stranger sight than the clothesline on the terrace where towels were hung in a row.

The man was standing in front of the kitchen with an unlit cigarette in his mouth. With his arms crossed, he was glaring at a frying pan as if it were his sworn enemy.

“Sit.”

Cheon Yeomyung ordered Yang Euijoo. Still no proper explanation at all. Cheon Yeomyung turned down the heat on the frying pan. Yang Euijoo casually hung the jumper in his hand on the adjacent chair and sat down. Cheon Yeomyung chewed on the cigarette filter a few times, then turned off the heat completely and transferred the food from the frying pan onto a plate. It was a decent-looking egg dish. It was colorful with vegetables mixed in.

Yang Euijoo stared blankly at the egg dish that Cheon Yeomyung pushed in front of him. It was unbelievable, but it was clear that Cheon Yeomyung had made it himself.

“……You cook too?”

“Because I like classical things.”

He did not know what cooking had to do with classical things. Yang Euijoo glared at the golden-brown cooked egg as if it were poisoned, then clenched his fists. Cheon Yeomyung picked up a fork and cut the omelet in half for Yang Euijoo. The cheese inside the plump omelet melted and dripped down.

The man cut a bite-sized piece of the omelet and brought it to his lips. Cheon Yeomyung’s lips barely moved as he ate the soft egg. Yang Euijoo watched the face feigning peace. Cheon Yeomyung, knowing Yang Euijoo’s gaze was on him, did not look his way.

Yang Euijoo, looking at Cheon Yeomyung who had returned his knife to him as if to make a point, opened his mouth.

“You brought me all the way to your home, so what is it you want to do?”

The fork, which had been moving slowly, stopped. Cheon Yeomyung, with his gaze fixed in the air like an actor, spoke.

“I want to know my feelings.”

I’m so sick of this……. Yang Euijoo let out a sigh. This kind of stupid conversation should have ended in the basement. At the latest, it should have ended at the pier. It was not a story to be dragged out past the new year. Talking about stupid things like being lovers or dating now was a useless waste of emotion.

“I need to know why I couldn’t kill you, so I won’t repeat the same mistake.”

Cheon Yeomyung muttered. In the end, it meant he had chased Yang Euijoo all the way to Shanghai for such a trivial reason. The reason he couldn’t kill him. Yang Euijoo knew that Cheon Yeomyung was a man who knew how to commit murder easily, and for him, murder was, if anything, a mercy. What had they done in the basement? What had Yang Euijoo begged for? Yang Euijoo was still a little pathetic to himself for not being able to stab Cheon Yeomyung with the knife.

But in that moment, Yang Euijoo had a clear conviction. Even when he paid the ransom and got off the ship, the future had been opaque, but on the Christmas Eve he left the mansion, his vision was as clear as if a distinct revelation had descended.

If he had stabbed Cheon Yeomyung, he would still be in Hong Kong. Yang Euijoo was able to escape that gloomy and chaotic island because he had stabbed himself. He had mashed his own flesh with a blunt decorative knife that seemed incapable of cutting even a piece of paper, saw blood, and walked out like that.

Yang Euijoo still disliked Cheon Yeomyung, sometimes hated him, and mostly loathed him. At the same time, he understood Cheon Yeomyung’s contradiction. If he hadn’t disliked him, he would not have known the man’s great distortion.

“I guess I was your first love too.”

So, filled with the same patheticness, he replied quietly.

“Things like that are no big deal.”

The shining golden eyes looked at Yang Euijoo.

Because he still couldn’t forgive him, it felt like he couldn’t breathe.