Vol 3 Ch 1

It felt like just yesterday when I stepped off at the pier. Before I knew it, December’s winter had arrived. The biting cold wind, sharp as a blade, nipped at my fingertips in this freezing spell.

Today, too, the worksite was bustling with construction. Workers, covered head to toe in dust, moved their hands busily. The morning news had said it was several degrees below zero today, yet sweat beaded on their foreheads and necks.

I was no different, blending into the crowd without any noticeable presence, caked in dirt from head to toe. My eyes stung, and my nose burned. The constant deafening roar, which resumed every time I thought it had stopped, left my head pounding.

“…”

I wanted to take a break, but there was a quota that had to be finished today. Exhaling deeply, I pulled my neck warmer up to just beneath my nose and climbed over the window to the other side.

The temporary scaffolding swayed precariously. Four dizzying stories up. From there, I looked down. The deep blue sea encircling the island came into view at a glance. Just as I thought I saw the horizon ripple, my vision blurred. Quickly shaking my head, I regained focus.

Placing my hand against the cold wall, I took one cautious step at a time. The gaping space below was fully visible. One misstep here, and it seemed like a straight path to death. Fear surged within me, but I couldn’t afford to hesitate any longer. Gritting my teeth, I pressed forward.

“…”

After successfully passing the cut rebar upward, I descended back to the first floor. As I moved quickly toward the pile of rebar, a coarse voice rang out above my safety helmet, pulled low over my eyes.

“Hey, bring that over here!”

The urgent voice followed. “No, not there!”

Clang! A sharp metallic sound cracked the air right behind me. Startled, I quickly turned around. Simultaneously, the dust scattered on the ground swirled into a sudden sandstorm. Shielding my nose with my arm, I coughed.
Cough, cough.

“What the hell are you doing, damn it!”

Voices steeped in alcohol and cigarettes echoed noisily across the construction site. Accusations of negligence filled the sandy air. Keep your head straight! You should’ve given a proper signal!

Momentarily frozen, I snapped out of it and adjusted my sleeve guards to shake off the tension. I also tugged my work gloves higher to cover my wrists completely. Although the quarrel continued around me, I acted as if I heard nothing and kept working. My shoulders ached, as if they might fall off.

Finally, lunchtime arrived, granting me a brief respite. After using an air blower to remove the lingering dust from my body, I joined the trailing end of a group streaming into the cafeteria.

Most buried their faces in their bowls, eating silently, which was the usual scene. Still, there were occasional moments when someone took an interest in me. Today, it was the cafeteria lady.

I was eating with my spoon quietly, pressed close to the wall as usual, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. The lady set down a dish of side dishes in front of me and asked,

 “Why’s a young guy like you working here instead of heading to the mainland?”

 “…”

 “Your face looks so fair, too.”

Flustered, my eyes darted around nervously. As I gave no response, everyone’s gazes shifted toward me. I was stuck in a thoroughly awkward situation. Mechanically, my lips moved as I muttered,

“…I like quiet places.”

It was a dull response. She patted my shoulder, told me to eat well, and walked away. The attention directed at me gradually dissipated. I discreetly wiped the sweat pooling in my palms on my thighs.

I finished the meal without knowing if the food went into my mouth or my nose and resumed work. As I emptied my mind and focused on labor, the sun sank quickly.

When the designated time arrived, the foreman appeared from somewhere and handed out white envelopes. The day’s wage was 170,000 won—quite decent. Though incomparable to the monthly salary I used to receive a few months ago, I was more than satisfied.

The workers, clothes soaked with dust as if wrung out, left the site. They were all abuzz, excited about the after-work gathering, chatting loudly about meat and drinks. Their voices grew distant.

Turning my back on them, I walked away.

The damp, salty sea breeze pushed at my back. As I hunched my body against the cold seeping into my neck, the sweat on my back mingled with the moisture, leaving me feeling clammy.

“I just want to wash in hot water.”

Fueled by that thought, I trudged onward, each step shaking off dust that fell from my body onto the ground.

Finally, I reached the village entrance. Looking up, I gazed at the village carved into the mountain.

“…”

The worn-out houses were scattered here and there in a spiral pattern across the slopes. The walls that separated them were partially broken, long since polluted by the waste of stray dogs. Or perhaps by drunken people secretly relieving themselves on others’ walls, blaming the dogs for it.

Whirr. The sea breeze howled once more, bringing with it an even more unpleasant smell that lingered in my nose. My face scrunched up instinctively.

As I stepped on the stairs, the gray birds perched on the power lines above fluttered away with a flurry of sound. The feathers they shed scattered across the asphalt. Treading on the dark feathers, I moved briskly.

Above me, the utility wires tangled like a chaotic spider web. The streetlights lining the stairs flickered, as if about to give out at any moment.

An island that, at a glance, seemed utterly untouched by government support. Perhaps due to the foreboding sea, the place radiated a melancholic air.

But it felt familiar. Having grown up in such a place for so long, it was just another slice of daily life to me. Nothing more, nothing less.

***

I briefly stopped by the supermarket in front of the house. After picking out some food to satisfy my hunger and buying a pack of cigarettes, I left with a thin black plastic bag in hand and entered the phone booth next to the store. I dialed the number and stared blankly into the void as the long dial tone rang out.

The call could not be connected and will transfer to voicemail…

The call cut off without reaching him. I tried twice more, but it was the same. Eventually, I hung up the receiver and stepped back. Leaving the phone booth, I trudged along. It had already been a week.

A week since Uncle stopped answering my calls.

He’d always been reckless. Even in a year, I could count the number of times he came home on two hands. Just when I’d start to think he might really be dead this time, that bastard would always show up with his disgusting face, acting like nothing had happened.

It wasn’t particularly unusual—so why did this feel so unsettling?

“…….”

A vague unease clawed at me. Useless thoughts multiplied in my head as I walked home, lost in my own mind. Only when I reached the entrance of my villa did I shake my head vigorously to snap out of it.

He’s always been like that. Pointless worry. When he runs out of money again, he’ll show up, shameless as ever, demanding it like it’s his due.

Pushing thoughts of Uncle aside, I slowly entered the shabby villa and climbed the stairs, which were ugly and broken in places. Standing before the iron door, I reached for my keys.

Then I heard footsteps echoing from the stairs below. My body spun around instantly, and my stomach dropped when I caught sight of black clothing. Goosebumps rose up to the back of my head as I stared at the figure climbing up, like I’d seen a ghost.

“What?”

The man’s voice snapped me back to reality. It was just the middle-aged man living upstairs. He gave me a strange look and headed up the stairs.

Thud, thud. I heard him walk into his house above, followed by a loud slam as the front door shut. Only then did I hurriedly unlock my door and step inside.

Kicking off my shoes carelessly, I was greeted by the moldy wallpaper of the old house. Without delay, I walked over to the wardrobe. It was so rickety that it was barely more than planks of wood, and I’d attached three padlocks to its doors myself.

I reached into my jacket’s inner pocket for the keys I always carried and unlocked the padlocks one by one. Clink, clink, clink.

“…….”

Opening the wardrobe, I shoved my hand into a blanket rolled up inside. I pushed my arm in up to the elbow and pulled out a bundle wrapped in sheets. Unraveling it, I revealed the hidden cash.

I compulsively counted the bills one by one. The soft shuffling sound calmed me slightly. Only after confirming the amount matched what I’d counted yesterday did I feel some measure of relief. My heart was still pounding.

That middle-aged man’s black jumper couldn’t have reminded me of a man in a black suit—except for its color. Black. Just thinking about it sent a cold sweat trickling down my back.

I re-wrapped the cash in the sheet and shoved it back into the deepest part of the wardrobe. After locking the padlocks again, I headed to the bathroom.

It would take a while for the hot water to come out, so I turned on the faucet and undressed piece by piece. In nothing but my underwear, I hugged my shoulders, shivering against the draft. It seeped into my bones.

When the water finally ran warm, I washed away the dust and grime, cupping water in my hands and splashing my face as though to rid myself of lingering thoughts.

…Whether I succeeded or not, I wasn’t sure.

After washing, I rinsed the clothes I’d brought in—just today’s work clothes, socks, underwear, and arm covers. Running the washing machine for such a small load felt pointless, so I scrubbed them while I showered.

As I shook off the sand, a needle-like pain pricked at my aching muscles.

…Ah.

This kind of work left a deep, lingering fatigue. By the time I was done, I was nothing but a worn-out husk.

At least it was winter, with short days and weak sunlight. In autumn, the sun had stung my skin like needles. Construction work forced me to stand under that blazing sun for hours, my sensitive skin left as an offering to daylight. After a few days, the nape of my neck would turn red and peel like a snake shedding its skin.

So I covered every inch of exposed skin with cloth. It wasn’t long before the other workers looked at me like I was an alien.

‘Why’s that pale-faced kid wrapped up like that? What’s he trying to pull?’

To them, my fussing over clothes seemed unnecessary. Their sharp stares pierced me, waiting for the smallest mistake.

I gritted my teeth and worked harder. Jobs on this island were scarce outside of construction projects like this, and I didn’t want to stand out.

Luckily, I’d worked construction sites before to pay my tuition, so I got the hang of it quickly. After a few days, their curiosity faded, and they left me alone.

“…….”

Once I wrung out the clothes, I carried them to the so-called living room. I shook out the fabrics and hung them on the drying rack.

With everything done, hunger gnawed at me. I rummaged through the black bag from the store and heated up some pre-packaged food. Sitting at the chipped floor table, I turned on the tiny TV to break the silence. Vertical lines streaked across the screen before loud voices blared out, shattering the stillness.

I forced the food down. After cleaning up the empty containers, I lay down on the blanket, shifting a few times to find a comfortable position.

The sound of the TV grew faint as my eyelids drooped. My limbs, heavy with exhaustion, sank into the worn fabric.

After days of grueling labor, the wave of sleep pulled me under like a deep ocean current. I couldn’t resist. It swallowed me whole.