The Taste of Lies Chapter 3

From that day on, Sangtae wandered around looking for unfamiliar faces. Maybe he could squeeze out one more round of hush money? The people who fled to Mukhyeon had already run out of luck, and street fights—little better than calamities—were a stroke of fortune for Sangtae. So he skipped school, too, and sat on a bench with a good view of the terminal, scouting for prey.

“I have to be careful…”

Sangtae muttered.

Picking fights for no reason,

getting hit, and collecting hush money—this was a criminal act known as self-harm extortion. According to a criminal law book he’d looked up in the library, the punishment could be up to ten years in prison or a fine of up to twenty million won.

What was more frightening than punishment was getting hit wrong and seriously injured. The only useful thing he had was his body, and if he ended up crippled, he’d be in trouble. He didn’t have hospital fees either. Should he do it, or not? Hesitation bloomed amid his excitement.

“There’s no choice. I couldn’t get a single part-time job, and even the electricity at home got cut off…”

To be precise, the reason he couldn’t find work was that everyone avoided Sangtae.

Even in this rural town, everything except breathing cost money, and in any case, he’d made up his mind to graduate from high school here, just as his late grandmother, who had raised him, had wished. Would opportunities to earn money come if he went to Seoul after graduation?

Either way, he needed money to keep breathing. He wished he could earn even just five thousand won in hush money. Steeling his weakening resolve, he stared at the terminal through his shaggy bangs.

A bus was pulling in. It was the route from Incheon to Gangneung. A faint, cloudy smile crossed Sangtae’s lips. Buses crossing over the Taebaek Mountains always passed through the casino.

Whose money should he extort? Scanning the disembarking passengers, Sangtae rolled his eyes here and there. The best target was someone who looked urgent enough to get easily entangled in a quarrel, yet seemed to have plenty of cash. Would such a face get off the bus? But the passengers exiting the terminal all surged in a crowd toward the taxi stand on the opposite side of the bus stop where Sangtae sat. It was because the bus had arrived later than expected.

Wrong.

This was the last bus pulling into the terminal today. He’d sat there all day without eating, and it was a bust. They say unlucky people fail at everything—and that was him.

His head spun. He hadn’t eaten anything yesterday. Or the day before that, either. He’d heard that school lunches would only become free starting next year, of all times. Sangtae leaned his back against the bench and closed his eyes.

If he starved through today too, it would be serious. He planned to rest a little, then go steal some cabbage left unharvested from someone’s garden patch. He’d heard that after three days of fasting, even a gentleman would jump over a neighbor’s wall.

The early spring wind was cold, but within it was warmth. The bus stop was warmer than his house, making it good for warming up. As Sangtae was soaking up the sunlight for a while, a shadow fell over his face. At the chill that came over him, Sangtae opened his eyes.

“Student, do you know when the bus to the town center comes from here?”

“…”

A man stood before him. His short-cropped hair was neat. There was no dark stubble, and no shadow beneath his eyes beyond his square glasses frame. He didn’t have the look of someone who’d spent the night at a gambling table and fled.

“Why are you staring like that? Is there something on my face?”

“No… just because you’re handsome. Huh!”

Sangtae gasped in surprise and covered his mouth. The man, who had been studying him carefully, also widened his eyes.

“That’s a strange thing to hear.”

Looking somewhat embarrassed, the man averted his gaze. Sangtae quickly sized him up from the corner of his eye. In a bronze leather blouson, beige cotton pants, and a sky-blue Oxford shirt underneath with two buttons undone, the stranger looked like a college student from a TV sitcom.

Had he come to visit relatives? If there were a college-student nephew who looked like that, word would surely have spread in the narrow little village of Mukhyeon.

Ah, he’d made a mistake. Sangtae bit the inside of his cheek. A college student would probably have cash, too. Should he pick a fight even now?

“What’s so strange about—”

“Never mind.”

Without even slanting his eyes, the man cut Sangtae off bluntly.

“When does the bus come? The one to the town center—the one that stops in front of the police substation, I mean.”

“P-po, police substation?”

“Yeah, the police substation. Would ‘patrol station’ be more familiar?”

At the word “police,” the quarrel shrank back into his mouth. The aspiring self-harm extortionist’s feet grew cold. Today was truly more unlucky than selling salt on a rainy day.

“Wh-why are you going there? Did you commit a crime?”

“What?”

He hadn’t meant to pick a fight, but this time the man wore an expression as if his feelings were genuinely hurt. Sangtae quickly added.

“I mean, it’s weird, isn’t it? A stranger you’ve never seen in this town suddenly looking for the police station.”

“Because I’m a cop. Does that answer it?”

“A c-c-cop?”

“Don’t believe me? Want me to show you my police ID?”

The ID he held out had a photo of a man in a blue shirt, navy tie, and a silver badge. The rank was patrol officer. The name was Ma Youngmin. He put the ID away so quickly that Sangtae couldn’t check his birth date.

He was only a lowly patrol officer, but a cop was still a cop. Thinking how lucky it was that he hadn’t started a quarrel, Sangtae thoroughly scanned the man from head to toe. Seen with a changed perspective, he looked different.

Especially his eyes. During the summer rush, college students who came on vacation had eyes like billowing clouds, but this man’s eyes were cold and detached.

It was as if he stood a step back from everything in the world and observed them in detail… Suddenly overcome with shame that the man might also be observing him, Sangtae hugged the backpack resting on his knees.

He felt as if the man would see through him—the dingy, stained school uniform he’d washed without soap in a dark house, his ulterior motive of trying to con the man out of money because he had none, and finally, the fact that he’d told someone for the first time that they were handsome.

“The bus passed by 30 minutes ago.”

He sprang up from his seat and said to Youngmin. Standing, he realized the distance between them was closer than he’d thought. Startled, Sangtae hastily turned around and slung his backpack over his shoulder. The man’s eyes, perched far above Sangtae’s crown, clung to him. Seeing the school uniform trousers that showed his ankles and the worn-out three-stripe slippers that were far too small for his feet, the man blinked.

“That was the last bus. There are only two buses a day. To get into town, you have to walk or take a taxi… Ah.”

Chattering away to escape the crisis, Sangtae suddenly went black before his eyes. His head spun. It was because he’d been starving for nearly three days and then stood up abruptly.

“Student, student. Are you okay?”

“I’m… okay. If I mix some sugar water and drink it… I’ll be fine. The taxi stand is over there…”

“Alright, just get on my back.”

Youngmin snatched Sangtae’s backpack, slung it over his shoulder along with the travel duffel he was carrying, and gestured to him. Sangtae tried to lift his bottom off the ground, but his whole body had no strength, and he just kept falling back on his rear. In the end, he was carried on Youngmin’s back like a piece of luggage.

“To an internal medicine clinic or a health center. A student suddenly collapsed.”

In a concise but firm tone, Youngmin said to the taxi driver. The driver only glanced vaguely at the back seat and showed no sign of shifting gears.

“Ah, forget it. I’m really fine, okay? I’ll just go home, drink some sugar water, and rest.”

“Does collapsing on the street get fixed with sugar water? You need an IV at least.”

“I told you, it’s really fine! I don’t have money for hospital fees.”

He didn’t even have sugar to dissolve in water, let alone hospital fees.

“Who said you’re paying? For such a little thing, you’ve got a temper like a cat.”

“Cat? Did you just call me a cat?”

“Hey, mister, are we going or not?”

Just as the atmosphere was about to turn ugly, the taxi driver cut in. Youngmin called out.

“Let’s go to the Mukhyeon patrol station.”

Only then did the driver clunkily shift gears.

“Why, did that guy lay a hand on your stuff?”

The driver asked, meeting Youngmin’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He’d completely ignored the argument between the two and the talk of going to the health center, but he was quick to change tack. Sangtae pressed his hand to his forehead and muttered a curse. The people here rejoiced in Sangtae’s misfortune as if it were their own.

“I’m a cop. Let’s go quietly. And you.”

The driver clamped his mouth shut like a clam. Youngmin grabbed Sangtae’s chin and turned it toward him. His long bangs fell down to the tip of his nose, making his face utterly unreadable.

“What about me?”