NTH 17

“Birds?”

“Yeah. Wanna see? There’s gotta be some birds around here.”

Nana put his fingers to his mouth and made a sharp whit, whit sound. Suddenly, five or six birds swooped down from somewhere and perched on his shoulders and arms. Jeha, stunned by the surreal scene, froze with his mouth half-open, a rare occurrence for him.

Nana, however, looked completely unfazed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“They just come when I call. I don’t know anything about birds, though. I don’t even know what kind they are. Guess they must live around your school.”

“They’re nuthatches and titmice. They’re not even tame pet birds—how is this possible?”

“No idea. I’ve never had enough food for myself, let alone carried around treats for birds, dogs, or cats. I don’t get why they like me so much when I’ve got nothing to offer.”

Nana gently stroked the head of a titmouse perched on his finger. Curious, Jeha cautiously extended his hand, but the bird startled and hopped onto Nana’s shoulder instead.

“Guess they don’t like you. Maybe you’re too big and they feel threatened?” Nana teased with a giggle, then shooed the birds away.

“Next time I come, buy some bird feed and cat food. These guys live on your campus, so it’s only right for you, the professor, to feed them, don’t you think?”

It felt like the number of mouths Jeha had to feed was steadily growing.

As Jeha drove Nana in his car, he asked, “Do animals just follow you like that? Can you, like, read their minds or something?”

Nana stared at him silently.

Jeha, focused on driving, glanced over when Nana didn’t respond. But when their eyes met, he felt a bit flustered.

“What, did I say something too weird?”

“No, it’s not that. You’re just… different from other people.”

“In what way?”

“You’re understanding? Tolerant? No, it’s more like… it’s amazing that you don’t find anything about me strange.”

“What’s strange about you?”

“Come on. Most people don’t even notice I’m there and can’t remember my face. My presence is freakishly faint. Doesn’t it seem odd that animals come to me on their own?”

“It could happen, no big deal.”

“That’s what’s amazing—how you think it’s no big deal.”

Jeha couldn’t yet tell Nana that he himself was living proof of strange phenomena, having lived nearly a thousand years through different bodies. Maybe he never would. But even with all that time, Jeha had no memory of anyone animals flocked to like this, so Nana was intriguing to him too.

“So, can you read animals’ minds or not?”

“It’s not like I hear voices like in the movies, but sometimes I get a feeling, like something’s being conveyed.”

“Like what?”

“Like ‘I’m hungry,’ ‘I’m lonely,’ ‘I’m scared,’ that kind of thing. But I don’t know if it’s really the animals’ feelings, or if I’m just seeing them that way, or if it’s actually my own feelings.”

Hungry. Scared. Lonely.

The idea that those might be Nana’s own feelings stirred an uneasy sensation in Jeha. He pushed the feeling aside.

“You’d probably be great at a job taking care of animals.”

“Are there jobs like that?”

“Plenty. From walking dogs to working at animal-themed cafés, vet clinics, or shelters for strays.”

“But don’t those places all require ID?”

“About that, I’ll look into it next time. There’s got to be a way to register an identity, even for someone without a family record.”

Nana’s face lit up with shock. After staring blankly for a while, he looked at Jeha. “Really?”

“Yeah. I remember seeing it on the news. Registering a newborn is the responsibility of parents or guardians. It’s not the kid’s fault if that doesn’t happen, right? The government must have ways to help people like that.”

“Wow. I never even thought about that. No one’s ever told me anything like that.”

Nana fidgeted with his fingers in silence for a while before his voice suddenly brightened. “This must be why they say you should make smart friends. From now on, if I have to steal something, I’ll make sure it’s from someone with stacks of English books or academic papers.”

Jeha was so dumbfounded he could only laugh.

*

Driving to the city, Jeha took Nana to a phone store. He bought a phone and opened a new line under his own name.

“Since my house is your workplace now and I’m your employer, we’ll need a way to stay in touch, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll handle the account and costs, so use it freely.”

Nana, without a hint of hesitation, was visibly thrilled. “I’ll make sure no thugs steal this one!”

Next, Jeha took Nana to a bank and opened a checking account, also under his name, but let Nana set the password. He handed Nana the debit card linked to the account.

“Giving you cash for your salary might get it stolen again, like that bruise ointment last time, so use this. I put a month’s pay in there already, so don’t skip meals.”

“Wow. This is my first time having something like this.”

Nana carefully tucked the card away, beaming.

*

After dropping Nana off at the subway station and returning home from a workout, Jeha showered, sat on the sofa, and checked his phone. Two messages from Nana were already waiting.

• Nana: I think I’m addicted to this phone after just a few hours.
• Nana: I can’t put it down.

Jeha chuckled and replied.

• What’ve you been doing with it?
• Nana: Just checking news, reading webtoons, watching YouTube. Time flies.
• Nana: I can keep using it like this without extra charges, right?

Jeha called him immediately. Waiting for a text reply felt like a waste of time. The phone barely rang twice before Nana’s voice came through.

“You called?”

“Yeah. It’s an unlimited data plan, so no extra charges. Use it as much as you want.”

“Got it. What’re you doing now?”

“Just got back from working out, about to rest. Did you eat dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d you have?”

“Just convenience store kimbap.”

“I gave you money upfront to eat something proper.”

“That’s why I bought fresh kimbap instead of stealing expired stuff. It had katsu in it—super tasty.”

Tasty or not, it’s just convenience store kimbap. Jeha sighed inaudibly.

“By the way, I screenshotted something funny earlier,” Nana said playfully over the phone.

“What?”

“I’ll send it now. Check it out.”

Jeha pulled the phone from his ear and tapped the photo Nana sent. It was a screenshot of Nana’s contact list. The screen showed just one number—Jeha’s. Not “Kwon Jeha,” not “Professor Kwon,” not “Employer,” just “Jeha.”

“I really don’t have any friends, huh?”

“Seems like it.”

“But I don’t feel like giving my number to anyone else. I won’t save any other numbers here either.”

Jeha looked at the screenshot again. Nana must have endured a loneliness as vast as the empty space on that screen, if not more.