The Taste of Lies Chapter 20

He merely saw Sangtae as a child who needed to be taken care of. That was why he didn’t tell him anything about himself. Just as a nursing infant has no need to know their parent’s occupation.

The thought that had been triggered unraveled in a chain. Sangtae judged that the information imbalance between them was due to the relationship of protector and protected. This asymmetry was solely because of Sangtae.

Pathetic me—twenty years old, not even graduated from high school, with no savings, dragging myself around.

Time would pass and he’d graduate school eventually, but money wouldn’t just appear on its own. The real problem was the lack of money. And in Mukhyeon, it was nearly impossible for Sangtae to earn any.

Even if he went to Seoul after graduation, money was still daunting. Every day, newspapers printed articles about housing rents in Seoul breaking through the ceiling. A person had to have shame—he couldn’t keep asking Youngmin for handouts forever.

Sangtae abruptly stood up. The wooden chair scraped backward, making an unpleasant sound. The librarian’s sharp gaze turned to him.

“Student, you need to walk quietly.”

The librarian, having had enough of Sangtae’s heavy footsteps, finally said something. This time too, he didn’t reply and simply left the reading room.

“What’s with kids these days?”

“Who knows… I wouldn’t know.”

While the two librarians exchanged lamentations, Sangtae stood in front of a payphone. After glaring at the phone for a long while, he took out his wallet. He pulled out the scrap of paper with Gicheol’s number and some coins.

Clink, clink.

He put in five 10-won coins, and the number 50 appeared on the rectangular display. Listening to the long electronic tone, Sangtae pressed the ten-digit number.

∞ ∞ ∞

The faded golden sign looked almost white. When the lights came on, the sign glowed even whiter, attracting all sorts of moths and other winged insects while also drawing in customers.

One day during the summer vacation of his third year of high school. Sangtae stood beneath the sign of “Good Water Nightclub.” Today marked one month since he’d started working part-time behind Youngmin’s back.

“Hey there, pretty ladies! Today is Ladies’ Night! Free entry for women! Three free beers per table!”

Like a TV comedian, Sangtae made a fuss and handed out flyers. Dressed in a polyester shirt and a purple halter-neck vest, he distributed leaflets.

On his left chest was a name tag that read “Fox Oppa.” The vacationers who received flyers from Sangtae teased him, laughing and calling out “oppa, oppa,” before heading inside the club. Sangtae’s job at Water Nightclub was that of a tout.

“Is it doable?”

From behind the club, Gicheol sauntered out with a cigarette in his mouth. The other touts standing beside Sangtae all bowed at once. Gicheol’s thick, broad shoulders were full of tension. Before Sangtae could answer, he stood on his tiptoes and rested his elbow on Sangtae’s shoulder.

Is this guy crazy? When it’s just the two of them, he’s busy staring at the ground, and now he’s suddenly acting chummy. Sangtae wanted to punch him but had to hold back. Gicheol had the merit of arranging this job for him.

It was a job that paid 100,000 won a day, from 7 PM to 3 AM. Even if he only worked on Youngmin’s night shifts, he could pocket 300,000 to 400,000 a week—1.4 million won a month. Two months, July and August, would give him 2.8 million won. Enough to last a while in a goshiwon.

“It’s doable. Thanks, Kwak Gicheol. I owe you one.”

“If you’re grateful, pay me back with interest later.”

Gicheol sneered, blowing out a puff of foul-smelling cigarette smoke. Sangtae gritted his teeth. The smoke hit him square in the face. The cigarette smell clinging to his hair wouldn’t wash out easily. He’d have to wash his hair before Youngmin got back. Whether he knew Sangtae’s annoyance or not, Gicheol raised his eyebrows.

“Why are you out here? Aren’t you working the door today?”

Gicheol’s job at Water Nightclub was as a junior bouncer. His duties included escorting intoxicated customers out, mediating minor fights, and reporting major brawls to the gangster hyung-nims, the so-called “directors.”

Even though it was a lowly job at the bottom of the ladder, only gang members could do it, so some waiters and touts looked at Gicheol with respect. Dropping out of school seemed to have paid off for him.

“Yeah, the director hyung-nims gave me something to do.”

Gicheol smirked and raised his left hand. Hanging heavily from it was a dark, grimy leather pouch.

“…Huk!”

Sangtae gasped and pulled back. The other touts, who had looked over out of curiosity, also reflexively cursed and turned pale.

“What, you scared of something like this?”

Gicheol mocked, lifting the leather pouch high and shaking it.

“Never seen a cat before?”

“It’s dead. Why are you carrying that around?”

The dark pouch was a cat carcass. Had it been hit by a car? The fur, slick with fluid, was similar in color to the one Youngmin had been feeding.

No, it couldn’t be.

Sangtae shook his head. The place where that cat ate and the nightclub were a fair distance apart.

“The hyung-nims told me to bury it. It’s bad enough it died on the road—if it doesn’t get a proper burial, they say it’ll hold a grudge. Cats are real tricky things.”

Looking at the dead cat, Gicheol grumbled. His annoyance was plain. Sangtae twisted his body to block Gicheol from view. Aside from his pity for the cat, he figured customers wouldn’t exactly be in a dancing mood after seeing a dead animal.

“Then go bury it quickly. Like you said, it’s bad enough it died—it’d be even angrier if it heard itself being called a jinx. Take a bottle of alcohol and pour some out for it. Alcohol’s everywhere.”

“Ah, shit, I’m busy as hell.”

At the time it would have taken to finish the burial if he hadn’t been dawdling with Sangtae, Gicheol just stared at the cat with reproachful eyes. It was true that Gicheol was lazy, but he wasn’t lying either—he really was busy.

A banner hung by the military police station fluttered in the wind. Beneath the large letters reading “Summer Vacation Crackdown,” it said: “No Price Gouging · No Drunk Violence · Drive Out Violent Offenders.” The more tourists flooded in, the busier the police became—just as busy as Water Nightclub.

Youngmin was also coming home late every day, apparently mobilized for the crackdown. It had been ten days since they’d properly seen each other’s faces.

“Gicheol hyung-nim! The directors are looking for you!”

A waiter with a red bowtie ran out of the club. His face was pale, as if the air conditioning inside was cranked up fiercely.

“A customer overturned a table inside. The directors said it’d be beneath them to step in, so they want you, Gicheol hyung-nim, to handle it.”

“Yeah?”

Gicheol answered cheerfully. Now Sangtae realized he’d been stalling because he wanted to stay inside the club. Even in Gangwon Province, where temperatures were lower than Seoul, summer was hot everywhere in Korea. The touts working outside were all drenched in sweat.

“Go inside. I’ll bury it for you.”

“Oh, if you do that, I’d appreciate it.”

Sangtae carefully took the cat carcass. Another tout standing nearby tucked a stack of flyers pulled from a black plastic bag between his legs and handed the bag to Sangtae. He gave a slight nod of thanks, took the bag, and placed the carcass inside.

“Bury it quickly and come back. We’re already busy, and today we’ve got important guests coming. The boss ordered us to screen everyone carefully and pay special attention to the water quality. Especially those guys who look like rockfish heads in spicy stew—you know, the ones who order one beer and only ask for bookings. The waiters were told not to let a single one in.”

“Got it. I’ll be right back.”

The oldest among the touts, who had taken on the role of leader, instructed him. Sangtae took the bag and headed behind the club building.

It was a vacant lot they called the liquor storage. Between the empty beer bottles and boxes to be returned to the liquor company, and the silver kegs of draft beer, sat boxes of whiskey. It was fake whiskey—a mix of Captain Q and cognac—and it was Water Nightclub’s biggest source of income. Sangtae rummaged through the boxes, pulled out a real bottle of whiskey, and left the club.

There were bare patches of earth here and there. A flower bed at an empty house, a construction site for an unfinished building. Remembering the instruction to come back quickly, Sangtae stopped in front of the construction site. Purely because there was a shovel there.