PAHO 3

Clank. Nam Gyeonhwa, who had been dozing while standing, slowly reached in and pulled out a can of soda at the sound of the dispenser flap shaking. Perhaps because it was dawn, most of the drinks in the vending machine were sold out.

As a last resort, Nam Gyeonhwa chose a vitamin drink. He had thought it would at least be better than the bizarre combination that was red ginseng coffee, but within seconds, Nam Gyeonhwa realized that judgment was wrong.

“Ugh.”

Covering his mouth, Nam Gyeonhwa dashed to the restroom and spit out the drink. How could a drink taste like moldy citron tea? He couldn’t bring himself to drink the rest and poured it straight down the toilet.

Perhaps thanks to the movement, the drowsy sleepiness vanished, but the bitter, fishy taste made his stomach churn. He rinsed his mouth several times and, while he was at it, washed his face. When he lifted his head, his face was naturally reflected in the mirror. Perhaps because of the dim lighting of the fluorescent lamp, his already pale face looked even whiter and more haggard. He pressed the weary skin around his eyes with his fingertips.

Haejin, who had been perfectly fine just the evening before yesterday, started to develop a nagging cough around midnight, which eventually led to a raging fever. Nam Gyeonhwa, who had piggybacked the limp Haejin, had gone straight to the emergency room of a general hospital, a journey that took over two hours even by car.

It’s a cold. The diagnosis was simple and clear, but the doctor’s expression as he removed the stethoscope was serious.

Normally, a cold would naturally resolve with just some fever reducer, but Haejin, with his congenitally weak respiratory system, was an exception. A simple cold could spread into acute pneumonia, and the doctor’s additional opinion was along the same lines. At the recommendation that it would be best for him to be hospitalized for about three days, Nam Gyeonhwa didn’t hesitate and admitted Haejin immediately.

It would be a lie to say the hospital bills weren’t a burden. What with the examination fees and the high cost of the prescription drugs, several hundred thousand won disappeared like melting snow every month. He didn’t have health insurance either, so he couldn’t afford long-term hospitalization, but he couldn’t stop the treatment because of money.

Should I break into the savings? For a moment, the thirty million won he had put into a bank account under Haejin’s name came to mind, but Nam Gyeonhwa quickly dismissed the thought.

Thirty million won. It was money he had painstakingly saved up until now solely for the purpose of getting Haejin’s citizenship. This year, Nam Haejin turned seven. From the school age of seven, children who were citizens of the country could apply for special citizenship in Seoul City as long as they met the requirements. If registered as a Seoul citizen, he could enter a public school for free and also receive public hospital benefits. And maybe, he might even be able to be adopted into a respectable family.

He had managed to get jobs in logistics loading and unloading and simple delivery through Jo Yongsik, who knew his situation, so it seemed he would be able to cover the hospitalization fees before the discharge.

Nam Gyeonhwa slapped his cheeks and went out into the hallway to return to the hospital room. A night shift nurse on her morning rounds was walking toward him from the opposite direction, her footsteps muffled.

“Room 607. You’re patient Nam Haejin’s guardian, correct?”

The nurse whispered under a panel that read ‘Quiet’. Haejin is sleeping well. At the gentle smile that was an appropriate mix of goodwill and professional duty, Nam Gyeonhwa simply gave a nod of his head instead of saying thank you.

In the dark hospital room, Nam Gyeonhwa pulled over a portable chair without making a sound and sat down, quietly looking down at Haejin, who was curled up asleep.

Haejin, who had been whining incessantly that he didn’t want to sleep, finally fell asleep only after being promised he would be hospitalized for just three days and given a sedative. Haejin particularly disliked hospitals. It wasn’t just the shots or the medicine he hated; it was because he knew that the longer he stayed in the hospital, the more time he would have to spend alone.

Sorry, hyung-ah. Mumbling in his sleep, Haejin’s hand twitched. As if he was reaching for him, Nam Gyeonhwa carefully took Haejin’s hand.

A lump formed in his throat at the sound of a relieved breath. Perhaps the one who should be saying sorry was Nam Gyeonhwa himself.

He heard the sound of a siren.

In Yanggang, a siren usually meant one of three things. A warning alarm for an escaped inmate from the ROK Armed Forces Correctional Institution on the river basin, an ambulance that had come in response to a report of soldiers drunk on drugs and alcohol having a massive fight, and the military police.

A red flash flickered beyond the window, and then heavy footsteps rushed down the stairs. At the sound of his foster mother’s screaming, he crawled under the bed and covered his ears. Just as the footsteps on the wooden floor seemed to get closer, a flashlight shone under the bed.

Hey, you there, it’s okay, you can come out now.

Human trafficking and illegal prostitution. Nam Gyeonhwa didn’t feel particularly sad at the police’s notice that his foster parents would be arrested on these and a host of other criminal charges. In fact, he was even a little happy. He would no longer have to loiter around the border crossing to solicit European tourists entering the country, and he wouldn’t be beaten by his foster father anymore.

That spring, the special report that the organization leading all sorts of illegal activities in Yanggang had been rounded up spread far and wide throughout the country. While a wave of sympathy and adoption applications poured in from both home and abroad for abandoned three- and four-year-old toddlers, there was no place that would take in twelve-year-old Nam Gyeonhwa, who was on the cusp of puberty. After wandering from one facility to another until the wheels of his suitcase broke, the place he finally settled in was a small orphanage run by a parish near Baekdu Mountain.

Priest Nam Gijun. Having dedicated decades of his life as a military chaplain, he was the first adult Nam Gyeonhwa had ever relied on, and at the same time, the foster father who had given him a surname.

The days spent at the orphanage were a newly granted life. He lacked for nothing and was happier than he could ever be. A benevolent priest, strict yet kind nuns, and peers he relied on like brothers. He thought it would all last forever.

The sound of a siren, coloring Christmas Eve.

Gyeonhwa-ya… Go.

With the red, burning cross at his back, the priest whispered with difficulty. At the blood that gushed from his nose and mouth every time he coughed, Nam Gyeonhwa faltered.

A dog barked fiercely. The sound of military boots, following the signal that they had found their quarry, had come right up to his doorstep.

Hurry, run away!

At the forceful push of a hand, Nam Gyeonhwa fell powerlessly downward. It was a dizzying fall, with no idea where it was headed.

Excuse me, excuse me. At the voice of someone shaking his shoulder and calling him, he laboriously lifted his eyelids, and a young woman with a bob cut and glasses came into view. It was the nursing assistant who had been helping with reception at the information window by the entrance.

“Can you hear my voice?”

“Ah…”

At her worried gaze, Nam Gyeonhwa straightened his back, placed a hand on his forehead, and collected himself.

He had been sitting in the waiting area for a moment, waiting for Haejin, who had gone to get a shot before being discharged. To quickly scrape together the money for the hospital, he had spent the days in the hospital room looking after his brother, and at night, while he slept, he had made deliveries. Because he hadn’t slept for a few days, he had intended to just close his eyes for a moment, but it seemed he had dozed off.

“Guardian? Are you sick somewhere?”

Amid the sounds of people talking and the rattling clatter of a wheelchair being pushed, the violent dream that had been rummaging through his mind scattered like foam. Slowly composing his breath, Nam Gyeonhwa looked straight at the nursing assistant.

“I’m fine. It’s just… I was having a nightmare, that’s all.”

“A nightmare?”

Just as the nursing assistant was about to ask again at the unexpected answer, Haejin, who was coming out of the injection room holding a nurse’s hand, saw the people gathered in the waiting area and, surprised, ran over.

“Hyung-ah, are… are you sick?”

Fear filled the eyes of Haejin, who had hugged him tightly. Composing his breath, Nam Gyeonhwa smiled faintly at Haejin.

“Hyung is okay.”

Answering gently to reassure his little brother, Nam Gyeonhwa forced himself to get up. It was a rash movement.

“Are you really going to be okay?”

The nursing assistant asked about his condition again. Nam Gyeonhwa tapped his temple and then, as if nothing had happened, nodded with a stoic face.

“Yes.”

At the answer that drew a line, she took a step back, saying she understood, instead of asking further. The gazes of the people who had been glancing over to see what was wrong also moved away.

“Do you not need to go see the doctor?”

Haejin suddenly stood on his tiptoes, raised his arm, and placed his hand on Nam Gyeonhwa’s cheek. It seemed he was imitating the way Nam Gyeonhwa would check his forehead for a fever whenever Haejin called for him in the middle of the night. Bending down, Nam Gyeonhwa took Haejin’s hand and shook his head.

“Hyung isn’t sick, I just woke up from a short nap.”

“You had a bad dream again.”

Haejin muttered. He had a gloomy expression, as if he knew everything. Instead of giving a vague excuse, Nam Gyeonhwa changed the subject.

“Should we get hamburgers on the way home?”

“Hamburgers?”

“Yeah. Mister Yongsik gave me some allowance to buy Haejin something delicious since he couldn’t visit him in the hospital.”

“Then, can I… can I pick the toy set?”

“But only this once.”

Excited at the mention of buying a toy that only cost a few thousand won, Haejin pulled on his hand, urging him to go quickly. Nam Gyeonhwa pretended to be unable to resist and followed, while inwardly composing his breath. Perhaps because of the dream, his anxiety did not easily subside. He wanted to go home quickly and rest.

It was just as they were leaving the hospital entrance. The door of a black wagon parked in the lot opened, and two large men got out of the car. Their quick steps as they walked over seemed to be closing in on them like a dragnet.

“Excuse me. You’re Mr. Nam Gyeonhwa, correct?”

The young man said. Just as he was contemplating whether to play dumb and run, the closely-cropped man who had been standing silently took off his sunglasses.

“Well, I’ll be. I had a feeling when I heard the name.”

Nam Gyeonhwa blinked at the face clearly revealed under the sunlight. I’ve seen him somewhere. Racking his old memories, he soon let out a small gasp.

“Drill Instructor Min Chanyoung?”