LLU 46

It was something I couldn’t help but worry about my mother; it was an impulse I couldn’t go against. But I had decided to stop throwing my life as bait to Choi Junghan out of fear that my mother might get hurt. No—I had to stop.

Even my mother, who gave birth to me and raised me, had pushed me down from her list of priorities. If I didn’t take responsibility for myself, there would be no one left to look after or care for my life. Right now, surviving safely from Choi Junghan had to come before anything else.

This time, what method would Choi Junghan use to tighten the noose around me? He had once intentionally let me go, but that was probably because my movements were as easy to read as a chess piece placed openly on the board. My range of movement had been extremely small back then too.

At that time, Choi Junghan had appeared exactly at the place he had anticipated, watched me collapse in the exact way he expected, and caught me in his arms at the perfect moment as I fell. I had faithfully carried out the scenario he had scripted for his game.

But now.

If Choi Junghan had intentionally let me go, he wouldn’t have left me so defenseless as to run all the way to this distant place. Even if by some slim chance he had deliberately released me, he should have stormed in here by now. Yet so far there had been complete silence from him.

Apart from the thin thread of small anxiety that bloomed in one corner of my heart, a growing conviction of escape settled in. This time, Choi Junghan had been wrong. He had made a mistake.

He had let his guard down. That was why he had let me slip away so carelessly. He must have imagined that, just like before, after being silenced or persuaded by my mother, I would quietly return like a defeated soldier. Just as I had staggered back into his arms after seeing my mother at the hospital last time, he must have thought I would do the same again.

It was an excessively arrogant delusion. Showing him my wretched, broken-down, tattered state of dependence was enough once.

From today onward, my mother would no longer be a tool Choi Junghan could wield freely. By letting me go, my mother had simultaneously abandoned me and set me a little freer from Choi Junghan.

Of course, that didn’t mean the feeling I had right now was anything close to relief or lightness. I was just forcibly suppressing it because I didn’t want to deliberately recall it and feel the pain.

I hadn’t grown up like a precious only child, but still, to my mother I had been the only one. Over the long years, many relationships had passed by my mother’s side, but they were all temporary. I too had longed for independence while constantly worrying and caring about my mother. We had been the only blood relatives who had unknowingly relied on each other all this time.

But in truth, to my mother I had been gradually pushed downward step by step. I, who had existed right beside her, was pushed one step down with the appearance of Chairman Choi, and then pushed even further into a vast distance with the birth of Roa—the baby my mother had called by that name earlier.

My mother’s maternal love, willing to cover up every truth to protect her newborn child, was blind, but sadly there had been no share allotted to me in it.

Splash, splash, shwaaa…

After sitting there for a long while listening to the sound of the waves, I lifted my heavy body.

On my way back to the minbak I quietly scanned the surroundings, but I sensed no human presence. It was already a quiet place, and now that night had fallen even the tourists had completely disappeared.

I walked slowly and entered the room at the minbak. I didn’t lower my guard until I cautiously opened the door and stepped inside. Fortunately, no one was there.

Well, no matter how much of a Choi Junghan he was, how could he possibly search this remote backwater and find me in such a short time? A dry, faint laugh escaped me, but somehow it lacked strength.

I showered with warm water and brushed my teeth. I applied some cheap lotion with a strong scent of skin products and flopped down onto the futon I had spread earlier. Fortunately, sleep came quickly.

At six in the morning, at the usual time Choi Junghan would wake up, I opened my eyes.

The moment my consciousness cleared, I felt relief that what reached my ears wasn’t the faint sound of water. What entered my vision wasn’t the familiar ceiling but one with an unfamiliar pattern.

Finally I cautiously moved my ankle. Feeling the free movement of my ankle without any iron weight, I closed my eyes again amid the rush of relief. Slowly, sleep sweetly dragged me back down beneath the dark water.

When I opened my eyes again, sunlight filled the room. I frowned, got up, and stretched. My ankle was still light, and the scenery visible was unfamiliar.

Yet my mood wasn’t that good. Not as I had imagined it would be.

Thinking that splashing my face with cold water might make me feel even a little refreshed, I deliberately made a lot of noise while washing my face. After brushing my teeth and tidying my hair, I put on my jumper and wandered outside.

When I stepped out of the minbak, the refreshing sound of waves came to my ears. The sea was clear and bright, as if it had never been so threatening the night before.

I blankly took in the brilliant scenery, then quietly turned away. Yesterday when I got off the bus I had seen shops lined up nearby, and by now some of them were probably open.

After walking a little through the alley where the shops stood, I found a gukbap place and ate there. Come to think of it, the last meal I had eaten was lunch yesterday at Chairman Choi’s family home. Recalling that memory suddenly brought on a fierce hunger.

I emptied the entire earthenware bowl and slowly left the shop. With nothing to do, I sat blankly by the seaside, killing time watching the waves and seagulls.

The monotonous yet powerful sound of nature rushed into my chest. Splash, splash. I listened endlessly to the refreshing sound that pounded at my heart.

Strangely, the more I breathed, the more it felt like some hole inside my chest was growing larger and larger. I wanted to fill that emptiness with the sound of the waves.

Yet even though I was at the seaside I had always wanted to visit at least once, even though I was sitting here comfortably and freely with no one chasing me… the black void wasn’t shrinking at all; instead it kept expanding its area.

“…….”

I roughly wiped away the tears flowing down my face with the back of my hand.

What had been slowly eating away at my chest turned out to be an undeniable loneliness.

I was achingly lonely.

So unbearably lonely… that I wanted to hear the voice of anyone, anyone at all, whom I could call my ally.

There had been only two people in the world. But as of yesterday, one of their voices could no longer fill my emptiness. Only one person remained. I wanted so desperately, so unbearably much, to hear the voice I hadn’t heard for months.

Ring ring ring, ring ring ring. The long-sounding signal tone continued one after another. Glancing at the minbak owner who had lent me the phone and was now cleaning the yard, I waited anxiously for him to pick up.

How many months had it been?

Since I last heard that kid’s voice…

Overwhelmed by the rushing emptiness, my eyes closed on their own.

Yes, the day the house burned down. That day Kim Junwoo had said he would let me stay over and told me to come to his place. That had been our last contact.

Back then it was January, and now it was April. Those few months of gap felt like a complete lie. It was as if someone had shoved their hand into my life and snatched away three whole months.

I had spent my entire life stuck to that kid. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say we grew up together. Not to mention three months—even three days without contact would have us asking why we were so out of touch.

Would Kim Junwoo be angry at me for disappearing like this for so long? Would he have worried a lot? Maybe he even thought he didn’t want to be friends with me anymore… My worries chained together and grew bigger and bigger.

—Hello?

My heart thudded heavily and sank to the bottom.

—…Hello? Who is this.

“…….”

I covered my mouth. At the voice that was so painfully familiar and dear, tears nearly poured out. A suppressed sob, “hup,” escaped through my trembling hands before I could stop it.

—What the hell. If you’re calling, say something.

The kid grumbled irritably as if about to hang up, but then his attitude changed instantly.

—…You… is this Pioon?

“…Hup, hk.”

—Hey. It is you, Pioon. Hey! You bastard.

The kid shouted loudly. Despite the rough way he called me, his voice trembled terribly.

—You… how dare you go completely radio silent like this. Huh?

“…….”

—You’re the type who wouldn’t pick up even if you died and came back, and your mom just says you’re living with your brother now, that you’re busy with university life. What the fuck am I supposed to make of this situation?

“…….”

—Was I only worth that much to you? Huh? Was our relationship so meaningless that you could just cut contact like this without a second thought?

“…….”

—Say something if you called, you bastard!

“Kim Jun… woo…”

My trembling, quivering lips finally gave way and released sobs.

I no longer had the strength to keep up appearances or pretend I was fine. I just felt endlessly sorry—sorry again and again—to this kid who must have been left worrying helplessly and drowning in betrayal because of my one-sided silence.

“Sorry… I’m sorry…”

—…….

“Our relationship… it’s not like that. How could it be nothing…”

Like the last floodgate holding back a massive torrent had burst, I cried while calling his name. Kim Junwoo’s fierce, snapping voice cut off abruptly. My sobs and apologies filled that silence. Like a child, I wailed loudly, repeating over and over that I was sorry, that it wasn’t like that.

After listening silently, the kid finally spat out.

—Where are you.

“Huuup, here… it’s far. …I didn’t call to see you, it’s just that right now my situation is… I just wanted to hear your voice…”

—Fuck, stop bullshitting and tell me where you are. I’m leaving right now.

I heard hurried rustling sounds over the phone. I squeezed my eyes shut. Calling after months and asking him to come all the way here—I could see how shameless it was even from my side. And yet…

“…I’m in… Busan right now.”

…I couldn’t overcome the desire to see the sea together with Kim Junwoo.

Since I had no phone, we could only make plans in advance. Fortunately, while I was still holding the minbak owner’s phone, Kim Junwoo immediately sent me the details of the train ticket he booked, and I decided to go to Busan Station at that time to wait for him.

This time I transferred buses to head to Busan Station. Coming to such a crowded place inevitably made me anxious. Until he arrived, I killed time in the bathroom.

The closer the train’s arrival time got, the harder my heart pounded. When the time finally drew near, I cautiously stepped out of the bathroom. Suppressing my bursting heart, I searched for the familiar face.

“Hey, Pioon!”

Even among the crowd, the kid—with his darker tan and solid build—stood out immediately. The anxious gaze scanning the crowd stopped dead.

I wanted to wave my hand at him. I wanted to stride over, pull him into a hug, tell him I was sorry for not contacting him all this time, that I had been a bit emotional earlier but now I was okay, and smile while saying it.

But the moment I saw Kim Junwoo’s face, I couldn’t do anything. I stood frozen in place like a pillar of salt. Instead, he strode toward me with big steps. Closing the distance without hesitation, when he finally reached right in front of me—

Kim Junwoo powerfully pulled me into his arms. But only for a moment; scanning my face with his eyes, he suddenly scowled deeply.

“Hey, you bastard… what the hell happened to your face. Huh?”

“…….”

“You’ve turned into half a person. You were already skinny, and now… what the hell is this. After months of no contact, why do you show up looking like this!”

I had thought I would get scolded. I was ready to listen gladly to whatever resentment he threw at me. Of course I had my own circumstances, but separate from that, the emotional turmoil he must have gone through over these months couldn’t have been ordinary.

Yet Kim Junwoo was filled only with worry. Even as his mouth poured out words of resentment, the emotion in his eyes was different. The fact that he had rushed all the way here at just one phone call from me showed it. To have someone who worried about me this much—it made my chest feel so full it might burst.

I looked at him silently and smiled. Or tried to.

“…Sorry… I made you worry a lot…”