The Taste of Lies Chapter 7

He shook his head. Sangtae looked extremely angry, but instead of lunging at him, he clenched both fists and just glared. Youngmin felt ashamed of himself.

Sangtae is a student younger than him. At an age where, if he gets caught up in a fight and lashes out with hurtful words, then turns around and regrets it, that alone would be commendable. But he himself, well past twenty, shouldn’t act that way. He’s an adult, and a cop.

“If you want to hit me, go ahead.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t hold back just because I’m a cop. If Officer Kim asks, just say you bumped into the door frame on your way out.”

“Forget it.”

With a good-natured grin, Sangtae refused.

“By my temper, I’d have hit you once and then some, but I’ll let it slide. I haven’t done anything right either.”

For no reason, Youngmin felt a pang of disappointment.

“Just don’t go around blabbing. Everyone in this town already knows, but I still hate gossip behind my back.”

“Okay, got it.”

“Well then, you should go now.”

“Yeah…”

He hesitated and turned around. The order to leave had been given, but when he tried to go, his feet wouldn’t move easily.

Is it okay to leave him like this? To leave him alone in a house that’s practically abandoned, a young kid all by himself?

Honk—

“…!”

A horn sounded from outside. Officer Kim, tired of waiting, was urging Youngmin to come out. Sangtae also folded his arms and raised one eyebrow askew.

“Hey…”

“What, now, what is it?”

Youngmin pulled out his wallet. He slid his thumb and forefinger inside the worn leather wallet and pulled out whatever bills he could grab.

“Take this. Buy yourself something good to eat. Don’t overthink it.”

He forced it into Sangtae’s hand and strode toward the outside. Sangtae, with a face like a chick seeing daylight for the first time, followed him out.

“Why are you giving me this? I’m not a beggar. I’ll figure out a way to get a job and earn money. Mister, Mister!”

Pretending not to hear the noisy chattering, Youngmin quickly climbed into the driver’s seat. He brushed off Officer Kim’s nagging about why he’d taken so long, buckled his seatbelt, and shifted gears.

He didn’t look in the rearview mirror.

It was an escape.

Even without knowing what he was fleeing from, Youngmin stepped on the accelerator.

∞ ∞ ∞

⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁣⁣⁠⁠⁣⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁣⁠⁠⁠⁣⁣⁣⁣⁠⁣⁣⁠⁣⁣⁣⁠⁠⁣⁠⁣⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁣⁠⁣⁠⁠⁣⁣⁣⁠⁠⁠⁠⁣⁣⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠For a while, Sangtae was nowhere to be seen. Even at occasional crime scenes, he couldn’t spot him. The old officer’s claim that he was in and out of the station day in and day out was indeed an exaggeration, Youngmin thought.

The rumors about Youngmin gradually died down as well. It was just a pebble thrown into a monotonous, news-starved mountain village. After stirring up enough ripples, it sank beneath the surface.

But Sangtae was an exception. He was a large boulder that kept creating ripples.

The people of Mukhyeon were strangely wary of Sangtae. In their excessive caution, they even occasionally revealed traces of fear.

What had he done to make them so wary? He was just a high school student. It didn’t make sense, and Youngmin couldn’t understand it.

Even the fights must have arisen from constantly taking the bait in endless provocations.

If this were the Joseon era, it wouldn’t have been strange for him to leave the village and join a band of outlaws.

Youngmin sat in the passenger seat, gazing at the empty bus stop, and let out heavy sighs.

“What’s wrong? Instead of sighing, why not yawn?”

Leaning his left arm on the windowsill, Patrol Officer Choi said. Though they were the same rank, since he’d joined two years earlier and was now about to be promoted to Sergeant, Officer Choi always acted as Youngmin’s senior. As a senior, he’d insisted on driving Youngmin home after his duty shift, practically forcing him into the car.

“Got something on your mind?”

“No. I was just feeling daunted thinking about all the housework I’ve let pile up at home.”

Youngmin deflected vaguely. It was a complaint any single person could relate to.

“Socks piling up in the laundry basket, dishes piling up in the sink. Ugh, I know, I know. You’re still single, right? How old did you say you were?”

“Twenty…four.”

After a brief pause, Youngmin answered, and Officer Choi stared at him with startled eyes.

“Kid, you look older than your age! I thought you were about twenty-eight or nine.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! I figured you were a college grad from a decent four-year school who couldn’t find a job, wandered around, then landed a stable government gig… You know. Things have been rough since late ’97.”

“Back then, there wasn’t anyone who wasn’t struggling.”

Gazing into the distance, Youngmin replied. Officer Choi’s questions continued.

“Twenty-four, so what about college?”

“I didn’t go.”

“After the military, you went straight for the patrol officer exam?”

“Yeah, I studied in Noryangjin for a year and took the exam right away. Got my driver’s license too, and learned taekwondo and hapkido.”

“You’ve lived a busy life.”

The car took a sharp turn around a curve. A small, cute rosary hanging from the rearview mirror swayed. Given Officer Choi’s personality, he probably hadn’t hung it himself—likely his wife, whom he’d married last year, had put it there to pray for her husband’s safety.

“I know twenty-four is an age to enjoy yourself… but just get married soon. A person’s life is eighty years at most. If you marry now, have a kid next year, raise them well and send them to college, you’ll be exactly forty-six. Then you and your wife can live sweetly alone together for thirty-four years and still die with regrets. Grab a girl from the credit union or the post office. Fooling around while you’re young leaves you with nothing but an empty bank account and damaged liver. Close your eyes and do as I say.”

Lost in his sweet newlywed dreams, Officer Choi started spouting old-man wisdom. It was the same thing every day. He’d only just finished the first verse, but Youngmin was already sick of it. Suppressing the urge to say there were people for whom thirty-four years of walking together would be a living hell, he opened his mouth.

“Sunbae-nim, please drop me off here.”

“What, here?”

It was Mukhyeon’s market alley. It wasn’t market day, so aside from the mid-sized grocery store, most shops had their shutters down.

“I have things to buy. Shampoo and detergent and…”

Perhaps regretting losing a rare chance to play life’s senior, Officer Choi clicked his tongue and let Youngmin out. But soon, he drove off toward his sweet home, where his beloved wife was waiting.

Youngmin absentmindedly touched the brim of his cap. A man in a police uniform had appeared out of nowhere in the market. Though there weren’t many eyes, they were the ones who’d genuinely spread the rumors about him. Feeling like everyone was watching his every move, he thought it would be hard to even buy a bottle of water without anxiety.

I’ll go home, change clothes, and come back out. Just as he’d made up his mind, a familiar-looking shadow crossed the street.

There were two shadows walking together.

One was a shadow he knew; the other, one he’d never seen before.

The two shadows seemed friendly, but Youngmin couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling.

He pulled his cap down firmly and followed the shadows.

Even at midday, the alley was eerily bleak.

In the ruined restaurant district, a greasy fried-chicken shop and a beer hall with empty beer crates stacked like relics stretched along the street. Above his head, a streetlight flickered erratically.

The two shadows turned into the alley right beneath that streetlight. Youngmin carefully muffled his footsteps and trailed them.

A sudden tailing. Youngmin was bewildered at himself.

He’d never done anything without reason in his life. He’d certainly made mistakes swept up by emotion, but at least he’d always known the source of those feelings.

Why am I following that kid? This kind of inexplicable impulse is a first. If the shadow I’m chasing is indeed him, what am I trying to do?

“Cough!”

A cough sounded. Along with it came a peculiar smell of smoke—a sticky, fishy odor mixed with a sweetness like caramel and maple syrup. Suspicion swelled within him. The people here only smoked cheap, foul-smelling cigarettes.

Puzzled by the scent of expensive foreign tobacco, Youngmin poked his head around the corner.

“Is this really good stuff? My head’s spinning…”

The voice that had driven him crazy for days with no word was chattering. No answer came to the complaint. Youngmin dashed out.