The Bad Life – Chapter 15.2 – The Solidarity of Hatred

Author: nicotine

During the past years, it was not that I had no lovers. No, rather, I had lovers without interruption. While investigating the <club>, if I needed a place to stay for a long time, I made a lover nearby. I lived in the lover’s house while chasing the traces of the <club>, and when I caught another clue, I broke up with the lover without any lingering attachment and left for an unfamiliar region. However, up to now, there had not been even a single time when I missed those beds. On some days, I occasionally recalled past lovers, but that was all. The faces of the lovers, their body temperatures occasionally came to mind, and that was everything. There had never been a time when I missed the lover’s bed, the razor shared with the lover, the cup used in the lover’s house, or even the pet the lover raised.

So now I am foreseeing it. That I will miss this bedroom ceiling painted in navy blue. The quiet sleep together blocking the morning sunlight shining through the window with thick and heavy blackout curtains, the familiar arms and body scent that always brought me home even if I collapsed defenselessly drunk, the afternoon watching the back figure leaning in one corner of the kitchen lighting a cigarette with the gas stove and cooking, I will miss even that as much as Teddy.

The house was quiet. It was the time when Teddy had gone shopping. When he returned, Teddy would pry into what happened last night with Cristine, nag, pour out curses, and then treat the wounds. I could not give him that chance. We were already close enough.

When I raised my body, my side ached and hurt. Enduring the pain, I quickly packed my things. Unexpectedly, things were scattered in every corner of this house, so it took a bit more time to gather them. But no matter where I stayed, it was my habit not to leave traces so that I could leave immediately. In less than 20 minutes, I became in the same state as when I first entered this apartment.

As I was about to leave the apartment with the duffel bag slung over my shoulder, I paused. Should I leave a note? I pondered and looked at the kitchen table. Normally, not long after, I would sit at that table and eat with Teddy. I looked at the cleanly wiped table for a moment and then turned my body. As if I had not even spent a single night in his apartment, I erased my traces completely and disappeared.

Around the time I took the bus, my condition deteriorated rapidly. It was because of the drugs. Since it had not been long since I started drugs, the aftereffects would not last long, but since I started alcohol together, it would not be as easy as I thought. A light chill came, so I crossed my arms and leaned against the seat. After going about 20 minutes, I got off in the city center and transferred to another bus. While riding the transferred bus and leaving the city center, I suddenly checked the mobile phone. The date had already entered mid-October before I knew it.

It meant I had been loafing around in Teddy’s apartment for nearly a month. That bastard would be quite pissed. Thinking of Teddy made a bitter smile come out. By now, the guy would have noticed that I had disappeared. Since we had never exchanged mobile phone numbers, if I left like this, the guy had absolutely no means to contact me. Having wrecked only the household and not leaving a single penny of the money he liked so much, that fucking druggie bastard…. Would Teddy look for me like that morning a couple of days ago? He might even rush in saying he found me like George and kill me. I giggled, but the laughter gradually subsided.

In any case, I could not become Teddy’s lover. Even if Jerome had forgotten me, even if Simon no longer loved me, I could not let them go. I was not a person like Watson. I was not someone who could calmly forget as time passed. I was not a person like Cristine either. I did not have the boldness to bury the past as the past and live on. I was not like any of them.

I am persistent and tenacious, and I never forget. Letting go and burying was not something I could do. Even if it was foolish and stupid, there was no helping it. Even if I gave up everyday life, even if I fell behind compared to others, nevertheless, that was the direction I should go. It was simply because I am that kind of person. No reason or excuse was needed. There was no need to blame myself for why I could not live ordinarily. There was no need to fault myself for why I could not bury it like other guys. Even if it was already a past matter for everyone? Even if everyone had completely forgotten and lived new lives, forgetting could not erase the existence of the past itself. I was the very witness to that.

I will gladly drag those bastards down into the mud pit where I live. If they forgot, I will remind them, if they buried it, I will dig it up and expose it. That was what I had to do. That was what I wanted to do, and that was exactly the life I chose. I do not forget.

But I was powerless. I had endured 8 years without help, but now no longer…. A chill came over my whole body. The bus left the city center and ran through the suburbs. I trembled my shoulders and looked at the passing autumn scenery. The bus stopped at a small beach village much later. Recalling my memory, I went up the hill beyond the bus stop. I had not walked much, but already my breath was short, and my head hurt as if it would split.

The small village formed along a gentle hill was far from the humble scenery usually seen in the countryside. Neat luxury houses with swimming pools lined up in a row, and occasionally expensive cars were parked. But most were empty, so it was not hard to guess that they were villas used only during the vacation season. Rubbing my forearms exposed under the short-sleeved T-shirt because of the chilly weather, I crossed alone through that bizarrely quiet village.

Soon, the house I knew appeared. Standing in front of the luxury house with a well-kept garden, I looked into the garage. A car was parked inside. Without hesitation, I stepped forward and pressed the doorbell. By then, I could not endure the cold and was gripping my elbows tightly.

Cristine, who opened the front door, frowned deeply as soon as he saw me. Wearing the familiar pink indoor robe, he was holding an ice pack to his cheek. Seeing Cristine’s swollen red cheek, I involuntarily grinned.

<Um, the druggie’s fist seems to be somewhat usable, huh. To the point of needing an ice pack?>

Cristine said sharply. Playing around. With what kind of heart I came back here all the way, playing around, I had absolutely no intention of that. A headache came as if someone was pounding my forehead wildly, so I held my head and exhaled. Cristine continued coldly.

<Yes. I have no intention of asking you for help. From the beginning, you did not even listen to everything about what I was asking help for.>

Cristine, who was rubbing his cheek with the ice pack, snorted.

<Funny. Are you telling me to feel guilty? You came to the wrong place, kid. Do you not see this ice pack right now?>

<…….>

Silence flowed for a moment. Cristine placed the ice pack on the entrance table. It was not as serious as my side, but his cheek was also considerably bruised blue. For Cristine, who was always diligent in taking care of his face, it must have been quite a painful blow. In fact, he was not wearing any makeup right now.

In any case, Cristine seemed to have no intention of letting me into the house, but he would listen to the talk. With his arms crossed firmly, he lifted his chin as if to say speak. Because of the headache, I was almost on the verge of tears, so I spoke as quickly as possible.

<There is something I want to know. About those kids… all four boys. Who they are from where. Why, from when they did such things. What is the <club> they made, and what other guys participated. How you became related to them and how you got out….>

<…….>

Jerome and Simon knew my life like an open book. Those kids knew nothing about me that they did not know. My life collapsed in their hands and was rebuilt. I could not explain myself without those kids. But would Jerome and Simon be like that? No. Their lives could be explained plenty without me. That was what I wanted to know. Their lives that I did not know. By knowing the unknown, I intended to jump into their lives. To those kids who abandoned me on that last night in Leverham.

It was hard alone. I needed someone’s help. Someone… no one could help as much as Cristine. I looked at Cristine desperately. He stood tall in front of the entrance and looked at me silently. From the man’s sky-blue eyes, I could already read the stubborn denial. Cristine would not answer anything. As soon as I foresaw it, he opened his mouth.

I looked at him silently.

<…….>

? I do not know that either. I told you before. I cannot help you, and our business is over. So stop now. Stop coming, and stop spouting such absurd nonsense. Do you understand?>

A cold autumn wind blew fiercely. With my shoulders hunched tightly, I stood blankly unable to find words. Even the terrible headache seemed to fade away. Suddenly, all of this felt like a scene in a dream. The thought came that a drag man standing at the entrance of a luxury house, wearing a pink robe, with one cheek swollen blue, looking at me, could not exist in reality.

<Why… exactly why?>

I muttered without realizing.

<Darling.>

Cristine said softly.

<Hey, Cristine….>

Cristine stepped back one step. While pressing the ice pack from the table to his cheek, he said lowly.

Without the slightest hesitation, the front door closed.

Why? Why? Captured by questions, I stood stupidly in front of the closed door. I could not understand at all. I just hoped for even the smallest clue. If he gave me just that, I planned to leave without lingering. I looked helplessly at the firmly closed door in front of me. I stood there for a long time, but it did not open again.

As I turned to leave, the futile feeling I had momentarily forgotten surged back. The duffel bag with nothing special suddenly felt as heavy as a thousand pounds. Standing blankly like an idiot in the street filled with luxury houses, I looked around. It was time to think calmly. Now, there was not much money left. I had to think again where to move my feet this time, where to start again from. But nothing came to mind. The sky became dark and gloomy. It seemed like it would rain, so I started moving my feet toward the bus stop.

8 years had passed. Knife or… James… as time flowed, their faces became more and more blurred, and I could no longer remember their faces. On the other hand, Jerome and Simon’s faces became clearer and clearer as time passed. I could vividly recall the boys’ faces as if I had escaped from the top floor of Bluebell last night.

Where on earth did they come from? Where on earth did the demonic hatred they brought to me come from? They turned my life into a riddle and then flew off somewhere. During the long years, I had learned almost nothing about the top floor boys. It felt like endlessly wandering in a maze that was nothing but a dead end with no exit. Now, I finally met Cristine, but even he does not want to give any answer… Do I have to bump into another dead end like this and go back empty-handed tracing the path I came? Until when? To where?

It became deadly cold. I moved my steps faster and faster. Unable to endure the headache, tears flowed down. I wanted to just collapse on the roadside and lie down. Through my blurred vision, the bus stop barely came into view. I plopped down haphazardly on the bus stop floor and clutched my head. If I took the bus like this, it seemed like I would vomit everything. I knew what the aftereffects were like, but I recklessly did cocaine, so it was self-inflicted.

<Hey. Are you okay?>

While panting and wiping tears, I lifted my head at the sudden voice. A short woman wearing an apron was looking at me worriedly. I tried to reply not to worry, but I retched. Clear saliva pooled in my mouth. Lowering my head, I barely swallowed the saliva and tried to calm my stomach.

<No… ugh….>

<Alan! Come help here!>

She shouted toward the opposite side of the street. I barely lifted my head and looked across the street. A large-built man also wearing an apron was striding toward us. The man lifted me sitting on the floor and supported me. With the headache as if my head would split, I moved my steps half-leaning on him without time to refuse.

The two people took me to the restaurant across from the bus stop. I barely sat at the corner table, and the man brought aspirin and cold water. The two sat in front of me and watched me take the medicine and spoke to me.

<No… it is okay, if I rest a bit….>

<…….>

<Family, friend, anyone.>

For a moment, Teddy’s face flashed by, but I just shook my head without saying anything. A strange silence flowed. Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable with this entire situation. Those two people were thinking it was a mistake… they might regret helping for no reason. What did I look like right now? Like a vagrant addicted to drugs, right? Even if I caused trouble on the bus, it seemed better to leave the restaurant. I pushed the chair and barely stood up.

The moment I turned my body and took one step, an intense headache stabbed my forehead like a needle. I wrapped my head and hunched my waist, and I felt a presence approaching from behind. At the moment a thick hand supported me and lifted my body, I suddenly vomited toward the floor. Unable to control my body trembling like spasms, I vomited several more times and then collapsed on the floor, and my consciousness cut off.

When I came to, I was lying soaked in cold sweat on sheets smelling of air freshener. I could not tell where it was, and I had no mind to figure it out. It seemed like I had nightmares the whole time, but I remembered nothing. My whole body ached stiffly from the headache and chills. The sky beyond the window was overcast, and raindrops pounded fiercely against the glass window. Being awake was so painful that it was torment, but even in the dazed state, my consciousness stubbornly stayed alive. The familiar bedroom became unbearably missed. The fluffy pillow and the blackout curtains covering the window, above all, the hard man I hugged in my arms while sleeping was missed. The man who was about a head shorter than me, with skin that was warm and a sweet sweat smell. The empty arms felt futile, so I uselessly gathered the sheets and tried to sleep. Not long after, I fell into sleep as if losing consciousness.

During the illness, occasionally I felt presences, and sometimes faint conversation sounds were heard.

I desperately thought that now I had to get up, but suddenly my mind would cut off. When I came to at the touch of a hand covering my forehead, it was pitch black outside the window. The dim stand light faintly illuminated the dark room. I stared blankly at the radiator by the window emitting steam and barely turned my eyes. The one pressing my forehead was the short-bodied woman wearing an apron whom I met at the bus stop. As our eyes met, she smiled faintly.

<…How, did I….>

The woman who answered clearly dragged her slippers and went out of the room. A moment later, she returned with a glass of water. I barely raised my body and sat up, slowly drinking the lukewarm water. When I emptied the whole glass, before I knew it, the large-built man from before was standing at the door watching us. I lowered my head.

At the woman’s gentle question, I replied softly <Yes. Thank you.> but did not lift my head. It was really a mess. I faintly felt a headache.

<Yes.>

<Ah… sorry. Thank you.>

Silence hung for a moment. The man standing at the door kept his mouth shut the whole time and just watched the situation. That silent gaze felt like a signal to get your wits together and get out. I looked alternately at the two and moved my butt to pull my feet out of the bed. At that moment, a sharp headache came, and I groaned without realizing. During the time I gripped my hair tightly because of the pain and exhaled roughly, no one spoke.

As soon as the pain subsided to some extent, I put on the shoes neatly placed by the bed. Who took off my shoes? My face seemed to flush with shame, pain, frustration, humiliation, and such. When I raised my body from the bed, the man who had been silent the whole time suddenly opened his mouth.

<Good, you can move. Come down and have some tea.>

While I paused at the unexpected words, the two left the room first. With no choice, as I followed behind, an ordinary family home scene appeared. A fluffy carpet laid on the floor and frames hanging on the wall, a worn sofa and television were visible. I crossed that place with awkward steps and went down the narrow stairs. The downstairs was the restaurant. It seemed I had been moved to the floor right above when I vomited and passed out in the restaurant. Seeing the clean floor without a trace of vomit, my cheeks unavoidably flushed.

The man brewed tea in the open kitchen, and the woman sat at the table waiting for me. I sat awkwardly across from her. The woman hummed a tune and looked outside. Following suit, I shifted my gaze and looked beyond the window. Seeing the pitch-black scenery, it seemed quite some time had passed even after passing out. Outside, rain was pouring.

<Milk? Whiskey?>

The man from the kitchen side lifted the kettle and asked. The alcohol side tempted me much more, but after briefly recalling the headache as if my head would split and the disgrace I committed in this restaurant, I chose milk. The woman sitting across chose whiskey. In the quiet, only the clinking sound of dishes was heard. A moment later, the man approached the table holding a tray with teacups and the kettle on it.

When I drank the hot milk tea, the headache eased a bit. While fiddling with the teacup, I stayed silent blankly for a long time and then suddenly opened my mouth.

Instead of answering, they just looked at me steadily.

Cristine’s cold voice flashed through my mind. I shook my head and took another sip of tea. The rainy scene outside the window looked overcast and cold. Now, I briefly thought about where to go. There was no sharp idea. But like the past 8 years, I would go somewhere again. Anywhere. I drank the cooled tea in one gulp and stood up. My temples stung like pricks.

<Ah, then a taxi….>

The man who had been silent the whole time asked. At that moment, I could not answer anything. I could have made up family, friend, anyone…. In the brief hesitation, the man continued.

<…….>

Without answering or arguing, I plopped back down in my seat. To me silently rubbing my forehead, the woman said softly.

I replied softly without stopping the hand rubbing my forehead. The man named Alan leaned loosely against the chair and tapped the teacup with his fingertips.

<…….>

I looked alternately at Alan and the woman. Alan had the same blunt face as at first, and the woman just watched us without interfering. Normally, I would have made up some excuse and left. I would have had somewhere to go. Even if not a place waiting for me, even if not a fancy hotel, if I wandered outside, there would be somewhere to lie down anywhere. But I neither stood up from the chair nor asked to return the bag. I silently looked down at the empty teacup.

I was weaker than ever. The failures I had experienced to the point of nausea over the past 8 years piled up layer by layer, and at this moment, I was so exhausted that I felt like I would drown and die even in a shallow puddle of rain. There was nowhere to go. There was nowhere I had to go. There was nowhere I wanted to go. I had no space even as much as an empty teacup.

The woman lifted the kettle and poured tea full into the teacup. Without a word, as I drank the whole cup, Alan stood up. Without any particular words, he gestured with his hand, and I obediently raised my body and followed behind. He went into the small storeroom attached behind the kitchen. The storeroom had ingredients stacked, and on the other side, a cot, a worn sofa, a table, and such were haphazardly placed. On the table, empty wine bottles and dirty plates rolled around as if a small party had taken place.

And under the bed was my worn bag.

Alan roughly stacked the plates and held them, then closed the door and left. I stood blankly in the small storeroom looking at the closed door, then lay down on the bed as if collapsing and closed my eyes.

I spent about a week loafing around in that restaurant.

The next day, when I woke up hearing the sounds of work in the kitchen, it was already around lunchtime. Hearing the bustling sounds, as I went out, the woman whose name I still did not know suddenly assigned me work. The woman requested, not quite a request, to handle the pile of dishes in the sink. The restaurant was full of customers who came to eat lunch. Reflexively, I put on rubber gloves and started doing the dishes.

While doing the dishes mindlessly, before I knew it, the customers had disappeared, and when I turned around at the calling voice, Alan and the woman had set a full table meal and sat around it. Only then did I feel the hunger I had forgotten, and I ate voraciously (at that time, I learned the woman’s name was Faye). After finishing the meal and the dishes, this time ingredients were delivered. I stacked the ingredients in the storeroom with Alan and organized the refrigerator, then drank a cup of hot tea. After that, at the request to help with ingredient preparation, I sat in the storeroom and peeled the skins of about two baskets of potatoes. By the time I worked like that all day, it was already midnight. The two gave a simple good night greeting without any particular words and disappeared upstairs.

The next day, I, who woke up earlier than yesterday, had no chance to say anything to the two before the work routine started again. The rain that had fallen continuously for two days stopped. It was a bit chilly, but the sky was clear and bright. Faye ordered me to fold the laundered tablecloths and napkins. And then dishes again. Late lunch meal. Ingredient preparation. Dishes. Late dinner meal. The day’s end was an exceedingly natural good night greeting.

That night, lying down on the bed that had become familiar in just two days, I thought seriously. Was this what they meant by helping? Giving a small room and assigning work? From the atmosphere, it seemed if I just settled down like this, they would accept it without a word. I tried a faint resistance to this absurd comfort. I had work to do. I had an <obligation>. But the thin mattress of the cot was so comfortable like a slice of bread that I could not continue the thought further and fell asleep.

As if the tension had released, after that, I suffered greatly for several days. Trembling with chills and unable to eat anything, curled up in bed as a useless soldier, the two took devoted care of me. Alan boiled hot and soft chicken soup and changed the sheets and pillow soaked in cold sweat. Faye brought tea and stayed by my side, checking my temperature from time to time.

The fever boiled so much that even the sheets brushing my body hurt, and I groaned without realizing because of the pain. I would never touch drugs again. It was fucking painful. Faye, who watched my severe suffering worriedly,

started, but I shook my head. As if she expected it, she did not persuade and wiped my face and neck with a wet towel.

A few days later, although my face was half swollen, and I was in a pathetic state borrowing Alan’s pajamas, anyway, the fever had completely gone down. Because I had not done drugs continuously for a long time, the aftereffects were shorter than expected. The body that had completely expelled the drug effects was languid and without strength, but on the other hand, it was also exceedingly light and relieved.

So I spent a week like that in that restaurant. After my body recovered, I proactively looked for and did work that was not even assigned. For someone like me who had no money or anything, there was no other way to repay than with my body. Thanks to the experience of doing all sorts of odd jobs over the past 8 years to survive, I had decent handiwork skills. Especially for cleaning, because I had been under a battalion commander obsessed with cleanliness during my military days, I had developed a habit and was quite meticulous.

After dusting myself off and getting up, I diligently removed the grease from the counter, wiped away the stubborn grime from the floor tiles, and even thoroughly organized the small storeroom where I lived. I fixed the bathroom pipe that always leaked water and made the floor constantly wet, and even repaired the sprinkler in the backyard that had been troublesome all summer, at which Faye confessed her love to me (seeing Alan’s eyes narrow behind her, I pretended not to hear and clattered while gathering the tools).

It was the restaurant’s regular closing day. Faye, who was eating the lunch I prepared, pushed away the plate with half the food left and said. I muttered an excuse that was worse than nothing.

Faye lectured with a serious face.

<Well, even if you are good at cooking, your face is too good to assign as a kitchen assistant.>

Instead of answering, I just shrugged my shoulders.

At that moment, the first emotion that came was pure joy. The favor she showed, the hand she extended without hesitation, was joyful to the point of being moving. For me, who had been cornered after the conversation with Cristine, it was almost a miraculous proposal. Over the past 8 years, wandering from place to place and experiencing countless rejections, but like this, sometimes when standing in front of a dead-end alley, an unexpected hand would be extended. The old cemetery keeper in Chedstone suddenly came to mind. Life is not always ruthless and cold.

Nevertheless, I could not easily answer and just looked down at the plate unnecessarily. I was not a person who deserved such kindness or favor. I was a person without the qualification for that. Suddenly, Teddy flashed through my mind. As I kept silent, Faye clattered her fork down loudly and exaggeratedly sighed deeply.

<Well, you would be suspicious. In this day and age, where is someone who gives such an amazing favor without reason?>

<No, it is not suspicion….>

Faye muttered <Of course, more than enough.> and left the table altogether. I watched blankly as she went upstairs, then turned to Alan. He pulled over the plate Faye left and took a big bite, then said bluntly as always.

<…….>

Thanks to Alan, who was not talkative, the remaining meal time was quiet. We finished cleaning up without any particular conversation. Alan drank a cup of tea and immediately went upstairs. Left alone, I pondered Faye’s proposal and sighed, then stood up. It was hard to decide right away. While unnecessarily wiping and organizing the table, and with no more work to do, seriously pondering whether to sweep the outside where fallen leaves were blowing, I felt a gaze for some reason and turned around, almost screaming when I discovered Alan standing there without a sound.

Alan was dressed for going out, wearing a jacket and holding a knit cap in his hand. He nodded his chin at me and said.

It was the first time going out together since I started freeloading off them. I took out my worn blue jacket from the bag and put it on, then readily followed Alan out.

We got in the car and headed somewhere. Except for me asking if I could smoke, there was still no conversation. When I opened the window, the now chilly autumn wind blew in. The sky was overcast as if it would rain. The drive was not long. Soon, we entered a small but bustling commercial area with a shopping mall, donut shop, cafe, bookstore, and such, and stopped in front of a building made of red bricks.

Alan did not even glance at the ice cream shop on the first floor of the building and went straight up the stairs. On the second floor, small offices were clustered together, and we opened the second door among them and entered. The place, decorated in a comfortable atmosphere, had desks and chairs lined up in rows, and on the front blackboard, <Therapy Group for Narcotics Addict Rehabilitation> was written.

Reflexively, I furrowed my brows and turned to Alan. Alan looked steadily at me protesting silently and took off his knit cap.

<…….>

Alan’s words were true. He seemed to attend this group often, greeting several people. But he did not introduce me to anyone. Standing awkwardly behind Alan exchanging greetings, I thought it would be better to just find a seat and sit alone, so I looked for a place to sit. I quietly watched Alan from the most corner seat. Occasionally, someone turned to my side and asked Alan something, but no one came over to talk to me directly.

When the group started, the first to speak was Alan. People clapped not too loudly. He nodded his head with his usual blunt and matter-of-fact expression.

Alan paused for a moment and looked carefully at the faces in the room. His unwavering serious gaze stopped on my face. He continued lowly.

<Now, I am convinced that I am ready to help someone else.>

Only then did I realize Alan’s intention. He wanted to let me know why Faye made that proposal.

After the group ended, we went into the ice cream shop on the first floor of the building. With chocolate fudge ice cream and vanilla ice cream in front of us each, we sat facing each other and talked lowly. Alan lost his only family, his younger brother, 5 years ago, and while wandering without anyone to rely on, he started heroin and fell into addiction. A year later, he came to his senses and attended therapy groups, but it did not get much better. He quit for about a month and started again, and sometimes he could not even last a week and touched heroin. He met Faye at the group. She attended NA to help her mother who was a drug addict and decided to become Alan’s therapy partner.

<Now, it has been almost 2 years without touching heroin even once. I have not smoked cigarettes, and I have not drunk alcohol.>

Alan stopped talking and took a big bite of the chocolate fudge ice cream. While he slowly melted and ate the ice cream, I poked the vanilla ice cream, which I did not like much, with a spoon. I hated sweet things. After a long pause, Alan suddenly said.

It was not a new fact. In the about two weeks I spent with Alan, today was the day he spoke the most.

<…….>

<…….>

He was a man without eloquence but who said what needed to be said precisely. I nodded briefly and quickly ate the half-melted vanilla ice cream.

We bought simple groceries for dinner and returned <home>. While Alan made dinner, Faye brought me a fluffy new blanket. During the meal, I revealed a bit of my story. The situation of coming to England from America where I worked because I had someone to find, wandering from place to place and living hard, and recently even touching drugs, I made up appropriately.

<Well, you could say that.>

After the meal, I emptied my passport, ID, and all the cash I had and entrusted them to the two. It was to show sincerity somehow to the trust without compensation, but Faye flatly refused. However, when I stubbornly insisted <in case I go buy drugs alone at night>, in the end Alan took the items and money saying he would keep them for a while. Under these circumstances, I started working at the restaurant <L’Pain> as a waiter and odd-job man.

The two also paid me a considerable salary. I saved money in a cigarette tin. It was not only bills that piled up in the tin. Peaceful and steady days accumulated layer by layer together. However, the mind that had always been full of things to do was empty. Without plans or purposes, I floated day by day. Every night, I tossed and turned and could not easily fall asleep. I thought of names I could not forget and faces I could not forget. The weather was unseasonably warm. Customers who took off their jackets and hung them on their arms sat on the terrace drinking coffee. To fall asleep, I started running. Even on rainy days, I ran until I collapsed from exhaustion.

The day I met that guy was also a rainy evening.

A car with bright headlights on slowly followed behind me. I ignored it and ran, but the car persistently followed. In the end, I stopped my feet and turned around. The headlights blinded my eyes, so the driver’s seat was not visible well. The car stopped beside me. The driver’s seat window rolled down, and the face I met was familiar.

Youthful face and slender body, golden hair falling to the chest. Looking steadily at the man through the car window, I opened my mouth.

After scanning the guy briefly, I continued cynically.

<Yes. The bad guy who took all the money from a drunk person.>

The man lifted his chin and replied annoyingly.

The man snapped back and raised the window, then stepped on the accelerator spitefully. I stood still trying to watch the car leave. But the car did not go far and stopped soon. I wiped the raindrops flowing into my eyes and walked with thudding steps. The window was down again. As I pretended not to see and moved my feet, the car slowly crawled beside following.

He suddenly threw a blunt word. I turned my head and looked at the guy. He had a face suppressing curiosity with effort.

Who got dumped by whom. I had no idea why that guy had such a misunderstanding from before. Harry snorted at my words but did not dwell on it. In the meantime, we arrived at <L’Pain>, so I looked at Harry with an ambiguous face across. Harry stuck his head out through the car window and looked up at the restaurant.

<That’s how it is. If you’ve taken care of your business, then go.>

He waved his hand and entered through the back door of the restaurant. When I peeked out through the window, the car disappeared without any lingering soon after.

The problem happened the next day. The rain that had been pouring down nonstop since last night showed no sign of stopping. As a result, the shop was also deserted. Faye was dozing off with his head nodding at the corner table where he had spread out the newspaper, and Allen was drinking tea while listening to the radio with the volume turned down. I was tidying up the storage room for no particular reason, secretly looking forward to today’s lunch menu. When there were no customers, Allen would make a fairly hearty meal as a change of pace.

A clear bell rang in the quiet shop, and a customer entered. When I stuck my head out from the storage room, I saw Faye jumping up to greet them. I quickly finished what I was doing and came out to the kitchen. Allen was already preparing the vegetables. As I paced around the kitchen restlessly looking for something to do, Allen pointed firmly to the chair without saying a word.

I sat down obediently on the chair as instructed and watched Allen work. In the blink of an eye, he made two tomato caprese and salmon sandwiches. I hurriedly picked up the plates and went out to the dining area. And I almost dropped the plates.

<Ah, there you are! Why did you pretend not to be here?>

Harry shouted in a completely natural manner. That incorrigible guy was sitting across from Christine and waving happily. I was so dumbfounded that I was about to protest with <Who was pretending not to be here….>, but Christine, who had narrowed her eyes, stared at me intently and let out that characteristic exaggerated snort of hers.

<…….>

I could not help but get angry and shouted.

I was so furious that I stepped forward without thinking and almost spilled the plates in my hands. I first set the plates down hard on their table and was about to argue once more when, from behind me, I heard a <Ahem.> a fake cough drawing attention. When I turned around, Faye, who had already folded the newspaper and set it aside, was looking at us with a face full of intense curiosity.

<Ah… it’s nothing. No need to worry about it.>

My throat suddenly felt parched, so I picked up the water glass on the table on my own and downed it in one gulp. Of course, I did not think I would never see Christine again. No matter what, we lived in the same neighborhood, and even if not, I had vaguely thought that at some point we would get entangled somehow… but I did not expect to meet her this quickly. Thanks to that, I had no idea what to say or what action to take, so I just stood there like an idiot, frozen in place.

Christine was dressed up prettily from head to toe today as well. Her lips, painted a rosy color, glistened with a shine. But her cynical expression, or the muscular forearms wrapped in her shirt, were tense and twitching with effort, giving off a quite threatening appearance. Soon, Christine stuck her head out toward me and nodded slightly to Faye.

<I’m Christine.>

<I’m Faye. Nice to meet you.>

I was startled by Christine’s sudden remark. Faye just laughed it off as a joke. I glared at Christine with gritted teeth, but he did not even snort and started eating. Since both Christine and Harry were completely ignoring me and enjoying their meal among themselves, I had no choice but to step back for now.

As I turned around hugging the tray, Faye urgently gestured to me, and when I approached her and bent down at the waist, she said something utterly ridiculous like <That guy is the boyfriend she said she broke up with?>, which made me gasp and flinch. I had nothing else to say, so I roughly covered it by saying they were friends. Faye did not seem to believe it much, but she had the air of trusting me since I said so.

That day, after finishing the meal, Christine said <Anyway, you’re persistent.> in an annoying way, but she did not say anything unpleasant beyond that. I pondered Christine’s attitude all day long. There was not as much dislike as I thought. She had been ready to smash my nose if I showed up again, but was not her attitude much softer than expected? Had her mind changed perhaps? If I could talk to him, I could probe a bit more into his true feelings…. But unless Christine came to the restaurant, the chance for conversation was remote. With that regrettable thought, I just smacked my lips.

But the opportunity came in a way I had not expected at all. After that day, Christine did not show her face again, but his friend, that guy named Harry Boyle, came by often.

Harry would come to get his sandwich packed and then observe me with curious eyes. If I turned to look even once at that blatant attitude, he would brazenly retort <What are you looking at?> like a rebellious kid. However, for someone who could not hide his curiosity, he did not have the guts to start a conversation, so that strange situation continued for over a week. In the end, unable to bear it, I spoke first.

Harry lifted his chin in a cocky manner as if he had been waiting.

Before I could retort, the guy continued on his own.

<What? Unnie is as big as you! She’s even bulkier than you?>

Now I could clearly understand that the <unnie> he meant was Christine. I leaned my arms on the bar and said sullenly.

<You’re the one who’s fallen for unnie and chasing her unilaterally. Lately, it doesn’t seem entirely unilateral though.>

<…Not entirely unilateral?>

Harry glanced at the customers sitting by the window for no reason, then leaned his body close to me.

<…….>

Harry winked and left with his sandwich.

While doing the dishes all through lunchtime, I carefully went over the conversation I had with Harry. When she chased me away so ruthlessly, and now that I was gone, she went looking for me? Was not that the ultimate contradiction? I could not guess at all what scheme Christine had in mind. I resolved that next time Harry came, I would try to draw out more conversation, and in the meantime, I pushed aside the stories about Teddy to the back of my mind.

The weather did not improve at all. Even when the rain stopped briefly, the sun did not come out. Amid days full of dark clouds passing by, Harry always had that annoyingly cocky and confident face. He and I would bicker a bit but had gotten close enough to sit together and drink tea. Harry would deliberately come in the late afternoon when the shop was quiet and chat for a long time before leaving. Sometimes I thought this guy just needed someone to chat with, but other times, like today, he would casually bring up Christine.

On this chilly, rainy day, Harry insisted on the terrace seat. I puffed on my cigarette and looked at the steaming coffee cup. I always preferred coffee over tea.

<I’ve known unnie for a long time like this. I have no intention of telling you about it, but anyway, just know it’s been quite a while. We even lived together before.>

<Yeah.>

<…….>

Harry glared at me with a displeased face for a moment, then continued.

I glanced at the guy with suspicious eyes. I was grateful for the information he let slip about Christine, but I still did not know why Harry was coming all the way here to say these things. It was too intimate to dismiss as just the guy’s whim.

<I’m not as close to Christine as you think.>

<…Lately, I’m dying of feeling left out. Everyone’s just making secrets from me.>

Harry took a sip of his tea and looked at me with a strange face.

<Yeah, there are people in the world where knowing them is all harm and no benefit.>

I had nothing particular to say back, so I just shrugged my shoulders. Harry stared at my face for a long time, then said something silly.

<That’s because you haven’t met a real bad guy.>

I replied absentmindedly, recalling the <bad guys> I knew.

Harry said nothing. We smoked cigarettes and drank coffee in silence. Harry, lost deep in thought, got up without even finishing his teacup. And he did not show up for a few days.

One late evening, Harry appeared without his female attire. Without makeup and with a hood pulled over his head, he entered the restaurant, sat in the corner seat, drank wine, and muttered to himself alone. Even while we were closing the shop, he fiddled with his phone at the counter without any intention of leaving, so Allen tapped my shoulder as I was doing the dishes. The guy brightened up and stood as soon as I approached.

<Done?>

<What, not done yet? Hurry up and finish.>

I was already used to his stubborn, cocky attitude, so I shrugged and went back to finish the dishes. After work was done, I was dragged out of the shop by Harry. Faye yawned as she saw us off. Harry, who forced me to get in the car without any regard, parked in front of Christine’s house.

Author's Thoughts

There are numerous stimulating scenes involving rape, gang rape, violence, abuse, and drugs. Please practice discretion as you proceed.

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