INFB Ch 15

Among them, there was no contact from his younger brother, Jeongho. It was a bitter thing, but also a relief. Because the only time Jeongho contacted him first was, ten times out of ten, when he needed money.

Also, there was no contact from Jaegyu either. That was definitely a relief. If he had called him again, Seobin might have blurted out that he couldn’t do it anymore. That wouldn’t do. Because…

“…”

Seobin raised his eyes and looked at the top of the desk. On the old desk where the wood grain stood up rough, 50,000-won bills were stacked in a heap. It was all money given by Jaegyu. The money he had given as a ‘tip’ was 1.05 million won. It didn’t seem like he had matched an exact amount, but rather that he had stuck his fingers into his crisp leather wallet and pulled out whatever caught on them.

1 million won for the compensation. 1.05 million won for the tip. A total of 2.05 million won.

It was money he couldn’t earn in a single night no matter where or what he did. Thanks to that, Seobin didn’t have to go to the construction site for a few days, nor did he have to go to his part-time job at the meat restaurant. That was why he could afford to be as sick as he wanted like this.

Seobin went into Jaegyu’s message box.

Come here

The message that had arrived from Jaegyu a few days ago was still there as it was. Seobin looked at the short three syllables for a long time. Then suddenly, really out of nowhere, he had such a thought.

A absurd thought like: maybe Jaegyu knew that Seobin would be so sick that he wouldn’t be able to do anything for a few days after that day, and that was why he gave him so much money.

But if that were true, wouldn’t it be too strange?

The fact that he acted so harshly even while knowing he would be this sick. And yet, the fact that he gave him plenty of money so he wouldn’t have to go outside or go to work.

It was as if Jaegyu had bought his time in another way. So that during that time, he could focus solely on the misfortune he had given him.

∞ ∞ ∞

When a week passed, Seobin hadn’t fully recovered, but he had recovered enough to move around. Normally, he would have called Jeongho first, but since his voice was still a mess, he substituted it with a message instead. As expected, there was no reply. However, just the fact that the ‘read’ mark popped up was enough to put his mind at ease.

After that, he did the backed-up work at the gosiwon. He emptied the trash cans, did the recycling, wiped down the hallway that was inexplicably sticky, and ventilated the area. He also changed the flickering lightbulb at the entrance and brought instant ramen from the storage room to put in the kitchen.

Finally, bathroom cleaning remained. Cleaning the bathroom—which had a row of urinals attached to one wall, two toilet stalls in the corner, and a sink and communal shower booth on the opposite side—was one of the tasks Seobin found most difficult.

It wasn’t just a problem of it being dirty; the stench was too severe. Water stains and mold were hard to wipe away unless quite a bit of strength was applied, and looking at the pubic hair tangled in the drain and things like kimchi or ramen that he didn’t know why were dumped there made him want to vomit his guts out.

The previous manager must have been in a similar situation, and standing in this disgusting bathroom made Seobin thoroughly understand why he had quit this good job and left.

Seobin put on slippers and rolled up his pant hems. He found and put on sticky, old rubber gloves, and brought bleach and a brush. Then he began cleaning with quite a deft touch.

Soon, sweat beaded fine on his forehead. No, it would be accurate to call it cold sweat. His waist hurt, his thighs hurt, his head throbbed from the smell of bleach mixed with ammonia, and his stomach was uneasy from intermittent surges of nausea.

Still, Seobin kept his mouth tightly shut and moved his body.

Toilet paper in the trash can ★Flush water after use★

The sign, which had been attached for a long time and turned tattered, was pushed by water and slid down smoothly to the floor. Seobin picked it up and placed it in front of the door, thinking that he should re-tape it later.

Having finished cleaning like that, he lastly wiped the sink mirror. What on earth did everyone do standing in front of the mirror? Sticky liquids, saliva, and some crazy bastard had even snuffed out a cigarette on it, making it no easy task to clean.

Pouring water over the mirror, Seobin let out a short, rough breath. Then he swept his wet bangs back broadly with his arm. Beneath the murky fluorescent light, Seobin’s face was exposed starkly. His rounded forehead and his cheeks flushed reddish from hard labor. His downward-cast eyelashes and his sorrowfully closed lips.

“Hey.”

Just a moment ago, Room 209, who had entered the bathroom to brush his teeth, called Seobin with his mouth full of foam. Resting his hand on the mirror, Seobin looked at him.

“Yes?”

“Did you lo’— .”

“…Pardon?”

At the pronunciation slurred by foam, Seobin raised his eyebrows and leaned his face forward toward him. At that, Room 209 spat the foam into the sink and spoke again.

“Did you lose weight?”

“I don’t know.”

“Looks like you lost a lot. Looking at you like this, terribly…”

“…Terribly?”

“Uh… what should I say.”

Room 209, having started speaking without having thought of what to say first, scratched his head roughly with the back of his toothbrush and pondered. Seobin was looking at him while blinking slowly. It was a bit frustrating, but he didn’t rush him. Focusing on the other person when conversing—it was basic politeness.

Fortunately, Room 209 didn’t consume much time. After a few seconds, as if the word he was looking for came to mind, he swung his toothbrush excitedly.

“Ah, right!”

Foam spattered in all directions. Seobin almost frowned without realizing it, but managed to endure it well. Because that too was not polite.

Room 209 looked at Seobin and grinned, opening his mouth wide. The foam caught between his teeth was bearably dirty. But the words coming out of that mouth were extremely unexpected.

“You look terribly holy.”

“…Pardon?”

“Like, fucking… you look like someone God would love.”

“…”

“It’s, ah, damn, not like male and female, uh? Loving in a romantic sense, you’re smart so you know what I mean, right? Slightly like God’s child? A pet? Ah, not an animal, but anyway that kind of feeling.”

Room 209 couldn’t take his eyes off Seobin’s face. Unpleasant feelings were not mixed in that gaze. It was pure admiration. Because having always encountered Seobin cleaning with his head buried in dark places, seeing his fully revealed face was surprising.

“…”

Seobin couldn’t make any answer. He had heard various words regarding his appearance, both good and bad, but it was his first time hearing that he looked holy.

Chewing on those words a few times, Seobin smirked softly. Although he didn’t know the exact meaning, interpreting it literally would mean God loved him. That was wrong. Definitely wrong. If that were the case, He wouldn’t have left him to clean up the yellow stains left by men who didn’t even know how to aim their urine.

“You’re handsome too, hyung.”

Seobin spoke in his characteristic neat voice. At that, Room 209 burst out laughing—Pahaha. Because it was a laugh big enough for his back to tilt backward, foam scattered in showers over the mirror Seobin had painstakingly wiped clean.

“Bullshit. There’s a mirror right in front of my eyes here, you know? My eyes are attached properly too, you know?”

Handsome, my ass. He tapped the mirror with his toothbrush. Seobin smiled faintly and wiped away the foam that had come from Room 209’s mouth with a rag.

It was when Seobin came out after meticulously sticking the sign back up in the bathroom. The cell phone tucked into his back pocket vibrated. Seobin quickly pulled out the phone. Tension seeped around his eyes. Because the only places that would contact him were either the hospital or Jaegyu. Neither was a welcome place.

Who could it be? Checking the caller with tension,

[Hospital auntie]

The caregiver’s number was displayed. Taking a sharp breath, Seobin quickly answered the phone.

∞ ∞ ∞

Fortunately, it wasn’t a call saying his mother was in critical condition. However, she said an urgent matter had come up for the caregiver. Seobin had expected an ‘urgent matter’ like someone in her family getting hurt, a fire breaking out, or thieves breaking in. However, the reason the caregiver gave was quite strange.

‘No, my son came home without even calling, you see. I haven’t bought anything. So I have to go cook him a meal.’