Chapter 5
A bed that was nothing more than a mattress; a flat-pack metal desk and a backless chair he had hauled from the foot of a telephone pole after peeling off the disposal tags; a secondhand TV alongside the studio apartment’s built-in cabinet, refrigerator, and two-compartment sink; a bathroom door whose bottom edge had swollen from mold.
He was just grateful the man left. An elegant figure dressed in clothes that looked expensive at a glance—surely that man lived a life to match. He was merely an overnight guest, someone who would never return to the college-town barbecue joint where his cousin had dragged him.
After lying still for a solid thirty minutes, Inwoo finally managed to push himself up. Bundling up the scattered clothes, duvet, and sheet, he headed for the bathroom. He threw the laundry into the washing machine, started it, and slowly washed himself.
Parts of his body he had never paid attention to—parts he hadn’t even known were there—ached with sharp, throbbing pain. He felt embarrassed, hollow, and somehow emboldened by a sudden, strange bravado. All in all, it felt as though he had been sucked into Wonderland, stripped completely bare, and spat back out.
Once he finished washing up and came out, hunger hit him right on cue. Only then did it sink in that today was the day off he had waited two weeks for.
Inwoo reached out sluggishly and opened the window. Outside lay an empty lot overgrown with weeds, littered with abandoned scraps of metal and discarded plastic. Rainwater had pooled here and there, but the sky was bright and clear. It promised to be just another day of relentless late-summer heat.
“Oof…”
Moving about slowly, he started with some light cleaning. As he put things back in their places, swept the floor, and prepared a meal, Inwoo caught himself looking around while pretending he wasn’t.
As if searching for something. Hoping to stumble upon something. Say, a note left behind by someone… There was no such thing.
He poured hot water over rice and ate. Unable to sit or lie down because of his aching backside, he was a ridiculous sight. Once the tension eased, his conversation with the man came back to him. It came in scattered, haphazard pieces, tangled with stifled groans and the unfamiliar sound of friction.
* * *
‘Like this…’
He had never been that intoxicated in his life, but he must have been as far gone as someone blind drunk.
‘Hm?’
The man lifted his head, his face glistening beneath the light as he broke into a strange smile. His breathing was ragged as well. For a moment, he had seemed frighteningly out of his mind, but they had managed to hold a conversation somehow.
‘D-doing something like this… so casually…’
Shivering like an idiot after agreeing to it, of all things…
‘We’re both adults, so what does it matter?’
‘…’
‘It’s a one-time thing.’
The reply had been casual. Inwoo had pressed on, clinging to those words.
‘…This is my first time doing this… Ah…’
‘It looks like it.’
‘Ah…!’
‘Same here.’
That parting remark was meaningless. What did he mean, first time? More like his first time coming to a place like this. Inwoo belatedly recalled the man’s gaze wandering around the room when he himself stepped out after washing up. The man had looked distinctly fascinated.
He stirred the rice with his spoon, but the grains didn’t mash easily. Kimchi brought from the restaurant and canned spicy tuna he had been saving from a holiday gift—it was a heavenly combination, but it was a shame he had no appetite. He just wanted to lie down.
There had been signs before, but the first time he acknowledged his sexuality was during his first year of high school. After his dad passed away, it had felt as though his body was being torn apart by confusion and grief. He couldn’t bear the desperate craving to lean on someone, anyone.
A guy who wasn’t even his friend, just a friend’s friend—a tall, broad-shouldered basketball player from the neighboring class who occasionally came over to hang out—appeared in his dream and held him as he wept, clutching a photograph of his dad. When he woke up and found himself wet down there, he broke down and sobbed. Lonely and miserable, he had wanted nothing more than to be held so tightly his body might break. It was something he had long forgotten.
Was this what I wanted back then? Embraces, kisses, tender caresses… He had skipped right over everything he had occasionally daydreamed about, straight into something so scorching, painful, and maddening.
‘Are you coming to the restaurant again?’
Without even knowing what had happened, right after coming for the first time, he had blurted it out while catching his breath. He swore there was neither expectation nor hope behind it. He was just curious whether he would ever see him again. He figured he was allowed that much curiosity.
‘What would you like me to do?’
There wasn’t much emotion behind the man’s reply, either. The silence was brief. The man fitted their lower bodies back together, then met his eyes and smiled.
‘Can we do it one more time?’
Those were the last words he remembered. That had been the sole purpose of their night together.
“Ugh, my butt…”
Still, no regrets. Inwoo steeled his resolve. No one had forced him, and he had been completely clearheaded. Curiosity spurred him to try something he had never done before. The aftermath was nasty, but his body would heal quickly enough.
He didn’t know when he’d ever date anyone. Developing feelings for someone and building a relationship was hard to imagine. For now, scraping by was tough enough, and his future was an endless road; he had resolved to accept being a late bloomer in everything.
It had happened on a whim, but he could simply leave it at that: this was what everyone else did, this was how it was done. Like the man said, it was a one-time thing. Not someone he’d ever see again. Naturally, there was no note.
After forcing himself to empty the bowl of rice, he waited for it to digest before going back to sleep. On days off, he usually cleaned and did laundry before taking a walk or going to the library, but spending one day just sleeping wouldn’t be so bad.
A faded ceiling. An unlit lamp. A sore body. His eyelids grew heavy once more. While the unfamiliar muscle aches were killing him, the slight fever that had lingered all night had vanished without a trace.
* * *
“Inwoo!”
“Huh…? Yes!”
“Why are you so out of it? They want to order more in the room. Go take it.”
He was practically asleep on his feet. He hadn’t dozed off like this even in the spring, so what on earth was going on?
Reprimanded by the older waitress on the floor, Inwoo struck his thigh with a dull thud. Lately, this had been happening from time to time. Whenever he caught himself, he would realize his vision was blurry, and he was nodding off. Yesterday, his hand had slipped, and he had even broken a glass. Thankfully, it was while clearing a table after customers had left; it would have been a disaster if a guest had been hurt.
Why on earth was he this tired? Should he drink some coffee? Since the start of the week, he had occasionally felt nauseous, and heat had surged up his neck and into his eyelids.
The mornings and evenings were distinctly chilly—was it because of the changing seasons? Or because he wasn’t exercising? Because he was eating too much? Surely not another cold?
Remembering how miserably he had suffered through body aches just last month, Inwoo grew anxious. His health was his greatest asset, and he couldn’t afford to take it easy just yet. Not yet. So pull yourself together—
“Ack!”
Before he could steel his resolve, his grip gave out, and the soju bottle he was putting into the refrigerator rolled across the floor. Fortunately, it didn’t break, but his startled heart hammered. The waitress on the floor glared at him again, and people in the kitchen shot looks his way. Inwoo lightly tapped his cheek and forced a self-conscious smile. He was a pathetic sight, laughing only because he couldn’t cry.
Having spent the entire day on edge, he was too exhausted to even wash up by the time he clocked out.
Counting the days until his next day off, the one after that, and payday, he fell asleep—and the next morning, despite not being on the early shift, he showed up late.
“Take one of these a day, make sure to eat proper meals, and get some exercise. A young man shouldn’t be so drained of energy.”
To think it had come to this. Things really were that bad.
The boss, who had rarely been around lately while busy opening a new branch, had still shown some concern for him as a long-time part-timer. That is, with money.
‘Inwoo, use this to buy some supplements or something. Where would this place be without our full-time part-timer to keep it running?’
Whether it was praise or encouragement, beneath it lay a clear determination to squeeze every last drop out of him… and yet, in the end, he was grateful. Where else would a high school graduate lacking both specialized skills and physical strength find a place that needed him this much?
After politely declining twice, he bowed deeply, took the fifty-dollar bill, and stopped by the neighborhood pharmacy on his way home from work. The familiar middle-aged pharmacist handed him supplements that matched the amount while fussing over him with well-meaning advice, and of course Inwoo welcomed the concern. Normally, he would have bantered back cheerfully, but lacking the energy, he stammered an excuse and headed straight home.
It had been quite a while since dinner, but he took one pill anyway; laundry could wait until tomorrow. He was dying on his feet, so he’d lie down first… He fell asleep instantly.
For a while, he continued feeling under the weather. The dizziness worsened, occasional spells of lightheadedness set in, and frequent nausea reduced how much he ate.
He needed to see a doctor instead of going to a pharmacy—even after making that decision, he dragged his feet before finally visiting the local internal medicine clinic. He had expected gastritis or anemia, but they told him it might be benign paroxysmal positional vertigo and advised him to visit an ENT clinic. He looked up the cost of testing and treatments for vertigo, then simply turned back. The nausea and mild fever felt worse than the dizziness, and just like always, they might pass on their own.
“Inwoo, you really don’t have any energy lately.”
“Making mistakes you never used to make, too. Did you buy those supplements with the money the boss gave you back then?”
“Yes. I’m taking them.”
During the break before the evening shift, as he sat down beside the aunties to restock dining room supplies and help prep ingredients, they launched into nagging him, just as expected. It was nice knowing it all came from concern and affection, but the trouble was that he was running out of things to say in response. Saying he had no time to visit a clinic would sound like badmouthing the boss who had even given him a bonus, and saying he didn’t want to burn through his savings would only invite more scolding. Inwoo merely smiled, rubbing the nape of his neck, warm with a mild fever.
Scraping by day after day on supplements, fever reducers, and digestive pills felt pathetic. At the same time, he felt proud of himself. After all, he was trying his best to live well.
Still, he should have realized a little sooner that while some things could be endured through sheer grit, others simply couldn’t.
Or was it an instinctive trick to evade something he couldn’t handle? …If so, that was truly stupid of him.
A few days later, on a Friday swarming with college students who had just finished midterm exams, Inwoo collapsed without warning in the middle of a frantic serving rush and lost consciousness. And after waking up in a university hospital emergency room and being poked and prodded in a half-conscious haze, he received news that came like a bolt from the blue.
It was something he had truly never imagined, not even in his dreams, nor in the far-off future, the afterlife, or across parallel universes—
“You are pregnant.”
Or so they said.