Yeon Cheonguk put all his strength into the tail end of his lazy eyes. Riding on his clear, solid voice came a two-syllable answer.
“Fuck off.”
***
After leaving the police station, Yeon Cheonguk firmed his resolve. He’d bury everything as if it never happened and forget.
He couldn’t expect a sequel to those dreamlike days of that hot summer from the Hwang Jegu he’d met again. To him, Yeon Cheonguk was nothing more or less than a shuttle he’d helped by chance, someone easy to tease.
The feelings he’d belatedly realized? Love?
That too was just Yeon Cheonguk’s delusion. It might have simply been nostalgia for those stimulating memories of the past. The musical stage just for the two of them in the abandoned warehouse… He simply couldn’t forget those nights that seemed beautiful in hindsight.
Getting excited over pointless memories for a moment—that was over now.
As soon as he pulled out of the embezzling agency, he decided to settle accounts with his disorganized teenage years.
Because if his heart went any further, he’d be fucked…….
Yeon Cheonguk opened his cell phone at his boarding house desk the next night.
700-5425. Premium paid music postcard service.
Any background music would feel poignant, so after much deliberation he found the right song. He chose Ahn Jaeuk’s <Friend> and recorded his voice directly. They said you could also send it in a famous celebrity’s voice, but he thought it would be better to send it in his own voice.
To formally express his gratitude.
I owed you a lot over the past two years.
Thank you for getting my father out of Gangwon Province, for helping me financially.
I’ll pay it all back someday.
If it weren’t for the connection with Hwang-je that came like an accidental incident, I wouldn’t have survived my teenage years safely.
If I succeed in the future, your contribution will be huge. I’ll end my thanks with this praise.
Now I want to leave those times as memories.
I don’t think we should meet anymore. You know the reason too.
I have to stand on stage.
Although I’m already working in the field, you also have to pass the police exam,
There’s no reason for us to keep holding onto this connection.
Let’s each do well.
I’ll leave the electronic dictionary you gave me at the bookstore. Along with a small token of gratitude.
Be happy, Hwang Jegu.
A friend from one time, that’s enough.
With Yeon Cheonguk’s heart already complicated, he couldn’t return to the same relationship as before. Cutting ties here and each going their own way was, as always, the path for both of them.
He should have said this in person, but if they met, he’d definitely get swept up in that bastard’s pace or his heart would become unsettled. He had no choice but to ask the comic book store to return the electronic dictionary.
He put the well-worn electronic dictionary in a paper bag and left it at the counter.
“Sorry, but if a person named ‘Hwang Jegu’ among the members here comes looking for this later, please give it to him.”
Hwang Jegu was in darkness. In a place as dark as the new moon with its light withdrawn.
Even if he’d escaped the world stained with blood, the past was the past. Just like Yeon Cheonguk’s song videos had spread across mini-homepages and bulletin boards, the ill-fated connection between the two had become notorious throughout the country.
If he’d pledged to do musicals, there was nothing good about meeting Hwang Jegu, who had been a famous thug.
“The end.”
Yeon Cheonguk threw the military service physical examination notice into the drawer.
He had to succeed to repay his gratitude too.
Let’s forget everything and start over.
Forget everything.
That time that meant nothing, that bastard who meant nothing—forget them.
With this, two chances had already passed for the two of them. If their connection truly ended here, their futures might change drastically.
The first thing Yeon Cheonguk did was register for a musical academy. On the way to Seoul on an express bus, his steps overflowed with energy.
He entered a musical academy in Daehangno and asked about the tuition for the audition preparation class. As expected, the tuition was no small amount. He also needed transportation costs between Ansan and Seoul. Deducting the next three months’ boarding house fees and living expenses from his saved money, he was about 200,000 won short.
Asking his parents for money was unimaginable. He didn’t even think of bringing up money to his parents who barely earned enough to get by. Yeon Cheonguk had no choice but to make a difficult request.
“Could I pay for just one month first and pay the remaining tuition by the beginning of next month?”
He was thinking of covering it by doing short-term part-time work in the meantime. The instructor in charge of counseling made a brief call to the director and granted the request.
It was a first step taken with difficulty. Just seeing the installment payment confirmation made him want to jump with joy.
Next, what Yeon Cheonguk did was abruptly visit the office of the musical team he’d been invited to by chance before.
Since Kim Hyuntae said he’d disappear forever, he wanted to seize the opportunity.
In the cramped office, three male and female staff members who appeared to be staff were gathered, enthusiastically in a meeting. He entered with an awkward bow.
“How did you come here?”
“I, I came through an introduction from one of your actors. I’d like to participate in the audition.”
The staff exchanged silent glances. He almost shrank at the quiet reaction from those who were his seniors, but Yeon Cheonguk expressed his strong will once more.
“I could have registered by phone, but since I was in the area, I stopped by to register in person after meeting you once. If it’s not too late, I really want to participate. Singing, and musicals… are the dream that kept me alive. I’m confident I’ll work hard.”
The man sitting at the head with a bandana around his head answered indifferently.
“Since you came all this way, we’ll accept your registration. The audition is at the end of this month. You need to prepare a musical number you can do best, one free acting piece, and one scene acting piece that’s posted on the cafe. What did you say your name was?”
“It’s Yeon Cheonguk.”
In the summer of 2004, Yeon Cheonguk decided to take another step forward.
Yeon Cheonguk’s start once again got its spark from Hwang Jegu.
Now he had to earn more money. Yeon Cheonguk holed up in a PC cafe and searched bulletin boards of aspiring singer cafes. However, they were full of academy promotional posts, and there were no actual paid part-time positions visible. Not even nightclub stages were looking for college students who hadn’t released an album.
Should he really run construction site labor, Yeon Cheonguk, who had been agonizing, suddenly thought of his class representative.
He remembered that sometimes seniors would look for juniors to take to events or wedding congratulatory song stages. It was embarrassing to contact him now when he hadn’t participated in department life at all. But this wasn’t the time to be choosy.
Coincidentally, a few days ago he’d gotten a text from the class rep begging him to please go to the freshman MT together. He called the class rep and brought up that topic.
After vaguely answering that he’d go if he had time, he casually brought up his business.
“By any chance, where can I see information about events or part-time jobs?”
—Events? You mean like festival stage events?
“Yeah, I heard seniors go earn pocket money sometimes. I want to try part-time work using my major too.”
—Aha.
The class rep, who had been stalling for a moment, answered with a pleased voice.
—There’s a senior from our department’s wedding next weekend and we’re doing the congratulatory song, want to come?
“Do the congratulatory song together?”
—We can sing it as a duo. Hey, let’s go together. Congratulatory songs are the best pay for the work!
He’d expected a lukewarm response to such a purpose-driven contact, but the class rep was unusually welcoming. Of course, the guy had one purpose too.
—But you’re going to the freshman MT, right?
“…Got it, I’ll try to get the time off work. If I don’t go, I’ll hear complaints for life.”
—Good. I’ll text you the congratulatory song, so practice it, and come into the group NateOn chat on time too. You set the chat time, Yeon Cheonguk!
His attitude of acting subtly superior was unpleasant, but he turned off his nerves about it.
Because what Yeon Cheonguk needed now wasn’t gaining the upper hand over the class rep but the 100,000 won performance fee.
A few days later was the day the news reported the disturbing northward movement of Typhoon ‘Namtheun.’
It was a humid midsummer dawn, on his way from the pub to his boarding house. Yeon Cheonguk stopped walking in front of his house. A black sedan was boldly blocking the alley.
“……”
He had no choice but to stop there. Because he’d seen the car before.
It was the car that had appeared at the scene of the two-lane road incident in Goesan. Sure enough, when the car window rolled down, a familiar arm and build appeared.
“How did you know this place….”
Well, when he could even look up police station report records to find out, would he not know the home address? Yeon Cheonguk, who was about to criticize this as an abuse of authority and stalking, soon shut his mouth.
Because Hwang Jegu, who got out of the car, was wearing a suit. Had he been to some important place…?
While he was speechless at the sight he’d never seen before, he crossed the dark alley and approached.
A strong perfume scent came from his body. It was a mature scent with a faint mix of whisky fragrance. When Yeon Cheonguk’s nose bridge twitched, Hwang Jegu offered an explanation on his own.
“Catching gangsters who got in a fight at a hostess bar. The smell of blood seeped in.”
“…But what’s with these clothes?”
“How does it feel seeing this scene after only seeing President Kim in a suit? Pleasing to the eyes, right? There’s no comparison, is there?”
“Well that’s….”
Well that’s obvious. A former thug who beats down violent criminals wouldn’t lose in suit appeal. But now wasn’t the time for such wordplay.
“I told you not to come see me. Let’s not do shitty things anymore, now. Didn’t you check the voice message? This isn’t the time for us to play sugar daddy games or whatever.”
Without answering, Hwang Jegu put his hand in his jacket inner pocket. What he pulled out was a silver rectangular object.
Yeon Cheonguk knew best what that object was. It was the electronic dictionary he’d left at the comic book store to return. When Hwang Jegu opened his mouth again, no trace of playfulness could be found at the corners of his lips.
“Sugar daddy. That was, fuck. A game to you.”
