“The forecast said it’s going to pour.”
“I didn’t bring an umbrella.”
Two office workers eating gukbap were looking in the same direction as Munyeong, exchanging the same kind of idle conversation.
“Did you see that video, Deputy?”
“Which — oh. That one?”
“Yeah. That one…….”
Their conversation drifted naturally into the edges of Munyeong’s hearing as he stared blankly out the window. But before their exchange could finish, the auntie’s shout — close enough to a holler — cut through faster.
“Young man! Table three!”
Munyeong snapped back to himself and refocused on work. Being near the market, the restaurant stayed busy even past the lunch rush, making it hard to sit down even for a moment. If he needed a job right away, places like this were about the only option. The fact that work came easy meant it was somewhere that badly needed the hands.
**
True to the forecast, by the time the end of the shift was approaching, a torrential downpour had begun — heavy enough to blur the view. The sky had gone pitch black despite it still being the afternoon. A damp, clammy feeling crept into the restaurant. The smell of food mixed with the wet smell of rain, and Munyeong could feel a sticky mugginess settling into his whole body. He hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella, so even past the end of his shift he stood motionless, doing nothing but staring at the falling rain.
“You didn’t bring an umbrella?”
The owner, counting money at the register, tossed the words out casually as he noticed Munyeong lingering at the door.
“Ah…, no.”
Munyeong gave a slow, sheepish nod. His mind had been in no state lately — there’d been no room to think about things like umbrellas.
“They were talking about rain all day on the news. You didn’t know?”
“I didn’t realize it’d come down this hard.”
“Goodness. Hold on. I think there are some spare umbrellas in the storage room.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I’ll just go when it lets up a little.”
Munyeong shook his hand and declined firmly.
“You’re going to walk out in this?”
“Yeah. Just until it dies down a little…….”
“There’s no sign of it letting up anytime soon. Just wait.”
“I really am fine…….”
“What’s the fuss over one umbrella. You’ve got a funny way about you, son.”
The owner looked him over with a faintly baffled expression at the sight of Munyeong practically shrinking with guilt. He gave a few light pats to the shoulders of this young man who was hunching himself small over nothing and offered a few words.
“Being too proper, too careful about putting people out — that becomes its own sickness down the line, let me tell you.”
“……Yes.”
“You’ve got to grow a little thicker skin. The world’s hard enough as it is.”
The owner, old enough to be his father, offered the advice to a young man who was always so meticulous and so desperate not to inconvenience anyone. He was the most polite and diligent among the young people he’d seen lately — but there was something about him that stirred a quiet sort of pity.
“Yes…. Thank you.”
“Just wait a bit.”
The owner said that and disappeared into the back. Munyeong gave a short, respectful bow to his retreating figure and stood there dully. Through the restaurant’s full-length front windows, the rain continued to pour relentlessly.
The owner’s small, offhand bit of advice had landed somewhere unexpectedly deep inside Munyeong. Not wanting to burden others, living like you’re holding your breath — that becomes a sickness. It didn’t feel wrong. Whether it was because he’d been living that way all along, or because he had no foundation of his own to stand on, Munyeong had always lived in a more diminished way. His was a life where he couldn’t afford to be careless about a single thing. A life where he’d be treated like a thief even by people who’d never once looked his way — so he’d had no choice but to stay vigilant, to keep defending himself.
It was the same with Haejeong. Just liking him was already something like a crime for someone like me — how could I dare dream of anything more. Even though he couldn’t forget that desperate confession, he didn’t think what he’d done was wrong. How could someone like me possibly — with him, how could I dream of that kind of future. Munyeong felt as though he’d caught some illness, being trapped inside thoughts like these. Just as the owner had said — habit had turned into sickness. He felt like a fool who’d come down with a pathetic, hopeless disease that left him incapable of any hope at all.
He was sinking into those thoughts, staring blankly ahead at nothing, when it happened. He still hadn’t let go of those three syllables — Yeon Haejeong — when, far in the distance across the road, a man considerably taller than those around him stood looking in his direction, umbrella in hand. He was too far away to make out his face, but his height stood out markedly above the passing crowd. It can’t be, Munyeong told himself — and yet his body moved on its own. Munyeong shoved open the restaurant door and stepped out, staring fixedly at the man. The large figure who’d been standing still with his umbrella gave a visible flinch.
“…Haejeong…?”
Munyeong murmured as if in a trance, knowing full well his voice wouldn’t carry through the pounding rain and the distance between them. There was even a four-lane road cutting across between the two of them, making it impossible to cross easily. He kept telling himself it’s probably not him — and still his feet moved. Just as he was about to step out into the rain, the man’s umbrella wavered. He seemed considerably startled — he hesitated, then suddenly began backing away. Like someone who’d been frightened. And then, when Munyeong kept staring, he began to flee in a flurry, like someone caught red-handed.
“…Wait―!”
Even if he reached out to stop him, neither his voice nor his arm could cover that distance. Just as he stretched out his hand and raised his voice — the flustered man slipped and went down hard. The man, now flat on his face in a puddle full of dirty water, shouted something or other, then sprang back up as if nothing had happened and began stomping on the offending puddle in frustration. Thoroughly soaked, he then started throwing punches at the air, his irritation on full display. Watching that whole series of events, a strange certainty settled in. That — for some reason, that feels like it has to be Haejeong. The premonition struck him with force — and then the owner’s voice came from behind him.
“Young man. Can you not hear me?”
He must have called several times already — the owner had appeared right behind Munyeong at some point and was looking at him with puzzlement. As though staring at someone who’d lost both their senses and their soul.
“I’ve been calling you how many times now. Couldn’t hear me?”
“……Ah. Yes…. I’m — I’m sorry.”
Even as he said it, he kept turning to look back. Still wondering if the man might still be there, Munyeong kept turning his head again and again between each word.
“What were you thinking about, spacing out like that?”
“…I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about…, anyway, here’s an umbrella. Just bring it back when you come in tomorrow.”
“Yes. Thank you. Really, thank you so much.”
Munyeong bowed several times over, offered his thanks several times over, and then quickly slipped out. And then, without even opening the umbrella in his hand, he ran out into the road. The traffic light had just turned green, and Munyeong ran straight through the rain battering his skin toward the spot where the man had been.
“…Ha…….”
Munyeong let out a shallow breath and stopped. But of course, there was no one there. Not a trace, not a sign of anything. Munyeong felt his mind go so blank he half-wondered if he’d been possessed. Had he seen something that wasn’t there? Though then again — he still didn’t even know for certain that it had actually been Haejeong.
Munyeong looked quietly down at the puddle where the man had fallen. An indistinct tangle of emotions swirled through his gaze. Even if it had been Haejeong — what then, Im Munyeong. You were the one who shook him off. You were the one who ran away. You said you were tired and ran — and then what. Even if it was Haejeong, what could you even do.
Weighted down by a foolish self-reproach, Munyeong stood there a long time, unable to leave that spot.
In the middle of the downpour, standing still, letting the rain fall over him.
**
Haejeong arrived home soaking wet and the moment he stepped inside, he tore his clothes off with irritated, jerking movements. His expression, deeply soured, showed a deterioration that hadn’t been there before. In just a month he’d grown visibly gaunt, the hollows under his eyes sunken in.
“Fuck…….”
Haejeong muttered a curse as he replayed the ridiculous thing he’d just done.
Having resolved to simply watch from a distance for a while, Haejeong had then, within just a few days, started trailing after Munyeong. He couldn’t bring himself to actually appear in front of him, but there was too much to worry about — what he was up to, whether he was eating properly — and so he’d begun tracking his every move.
At first, he’d thought about brazening it out and just showing up. The restlessness of not having Im Munyeong immediately beside him had made him think about just pushing forward and dragging him back — but the image of Munyeong turning away from him that day kept hovering before his eyes, and he couldn’t quite work up the nerve. Whether it was because being rejected like that was a first, or because the person doing the rejecting was Im Munyeong and that somehow carried more weight — the thought of pushing forward only to be turned away again frightened him into dropping the idea.
Frightened. He was frightened.
That he, of all people, could be frightened of something. It was almost laughable.
