Screech.
The iron door slammed shut behind him with a resounding clang. Heesung scuffed the dirt ground with his crumpled sneakers. They were shoes he’d worn ten years ago, and it showed — they fit nowhere near right. Neither the length nor the width matched, and with every step they made an ugly, squeaking noise.
“…Damn cold.”
The clothes were from ten years ago as well. He’d been in the middle of a growth spurt back then, so naturally those didn’t fit either. At least one short-sleeved shirt was wearable, but there was no way he could get the jacket on.
Wearing nothing but that short-sleeved shirt, Heesung gazed at the scene before him with flat, detached eyes, as if merely observing. There were families, lovers, children — all waiting for someone they’d released today. Some of them wept when they caught sight of their person, some raged, some simply sorrowed. Inside, everyone looked the same — fellow souls wading through the same gutter. But outside, it was different. Everyone had somewhere to go back to. They had families. They had people who had waited.
Standing there alone, Moon Heesung let out a faint, hollow laugh at the unexpected pang of sentiment. Look at you, getting sentimental. How pathetic.
“Hey.”
Just as he pulled his gaze away and started to move off, a man who had been released at the same time nudged him. He had a snake tattoo running from the back of his neck all the way to his cheek.
“You really not coming with me?”
The man looked to be in his forties. Behind him, several men in black suits stood at rigid attention, waiting.
“No.”
Heesung answered simply. There was nothing more to add.
“Yah, you little shit. Didn’t you say you’ve got nowhere to go?”
The man flicked open a Zippo lighter with a loud snap and touched the flame to the cigarette in his mouth. Then, halfheartedly, he pulled a cigarette from the pack and held it out to Heesung. Heesung shook his head and declined.
“Come join my crew.”
Even after being turned down, the man pressed again. The disappointment was plain on his weathered face. Heesung gave a short, respectful bow and answered evenly.
“I’m sorry.”
“…Ah, damn it. What a waste. I mean — you’ve got nowhere to go anyway, don’t you?”
This man — Jeon Gitae — was someone Heesung had come to know inside. He’d done four years for assault causing death before being released. In terms of prison seniority, Heesung had him beat. But Jeon Gitae had a well-established reputation on the outside for dangerous dealings, and his network inside was extensive. There were those who kept their guard up around him too — and Heesung had been the one to step in when it mattered. It had started when Heesung stopped a man who’d come at Gitae with an electric saw from the workshop.
Prison was supposed to be a place of penance for one’s crimes, but in reality it was just another den of criminals. Stuff the most vicious offenders into one place and of course they’d go stir-crazy. If you ended up on the wrong side, you spent your entire sentence either being tormented or doing the tormenting — one or the other. It was the most primal place imaginable. A beast’s lair where the strong ruled. The juvenile detention facility hadn’t been pleasant, but at least the inmates were young enough to manage. Sharing space with adult convicts was something else entirely.
“I have something to do.”
No place to go, no family — but he had something to do. He’d laid out everything he was going to do once he got out. A plan only he knew.
“Yeah? What’s that. Give me a reason to let you turn me down.”
Jeon Gitae asked, visibly curious. Moon Heesung had been fairly well-known inside. Young as he was, he had grit. Most kids who started cycling in and out of cells that early were just strutting delinquents who never outgrew their posturing, but the barely-twenty Moon Heesung was a little different.
Even when the other inmates in his cell bullied him for being young — even when they jumped him in groups — Moon Heesung never reacted in any particular way. Most people either begged for mercy or came back swinging without reading the room, but Heesung — when they hit him, he took the hits; when they left him alone, he read books; when he wasn’t reading, he worked in quiet. Simple as that.
In short — an absolutely unfulfilling target. But there was something about him that caught the eye regardless. The type people just couldn’t leave alone. In a place packed with filth, a man with a spine like Moon Heesung’s had plenty of enemies who found him insufferable just by existing.
Of course, there were also cases like Jeon Gitae himself, who took a liking to him. Either way, the guy drew attention. And his face especially — in a place full of rough, worn-down men, young Moon Heesung’s looks stood out sharply enough to turn heads.
Not that he was a pushover, either. The same guy who took bloody beatings without throwing a single punch went and beat one man half to death one day and got thrown into solitary for it. He’d also stepped in when Gitae was about to get seriously hurt. The man had come at him with an electric saw from the workshop, and Heesung had stepped in without so much as flinching. He got cut badly for it, and barely reacted. No preening about having saved someone’s life. No demanding compensation for getting hurt. He just got patched up at the infirmary, went back to his cell, and read his book as if nothing had happened. Sitting quietly with his back against the wall.
Jeon Gitae had felt something looking at Heesung. Something he could sense through thirty years of living as a thug, from reckless punk to proper criminal. Something that made a man’s blood run. He decided the kid had it, whatever it was — and after that, they’d gotten along well enough. He’d even made plans to bring him under his wing the moment they both got out.
“I’m telling you, come with me and I’ll take care of everything. I genuinely want to see what you can become.”
“I’m not much of a fighter.”
“Yah. Who in this business fights on technique? Grit. Toughness. That alone gets you halfway there.”
“…I’m sorry.”
Through all the coaxing and persuasion, Heesung stayed exactly the same. Jeon Gitae let out a resigned sigh and snapped the spent cigarette butt irritably to the ground.
“Fine, damn it. Stubborn little bastard. Won’t budge at all. So what the hell is this thing you have to do?”
Jeon Gitae rattled the gold bracelet on his wrist and asked, visibly disgruntled. Heesung smiled faintly and answered in a level voice.
“…Going to see my brother.”
Jeon Gitae looked at him with an expression of genuine surprise. It was a face he hadn’t seen in all the years they’d shared meals inside. The slight curve of his eyes made Gitae stare for a brief moment, a small sound of quiet wonder escaping him. He’s even better-looking when he smiles.
The surprise lasted only a moment. Gitae tilted his head and echoed him with a puzzled look.
“Brother? I thought he was dead.”
At the offhand question, Heesung faltered — and Gitae’s expression shifted as he realized his mistake, clearing his throat with an awkward cough. Even the unflappable Moon Heesung had one wound you didn’t touch, and it was his dead brother.
Noticing Gitae’s embarrassment, Moon Heesung recovered quickly and replied in his usual dry tone.
“…There’s another one.”
“O-oh? I didn’t know that.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.”
“Right. Well…”
Gitae swallowed a sound of regret and reached into the inner pocket of his velvet suit jacket, producing a gold business card and holding it out.
“Anyway, if you change your mind, get in touch.”
“…Oh… sure.”
“If there’s anything you want to eat, get in touch too.”
“……”
“If you need anything at all — get in touch. I owe you a life. I ought to repay that.”
Jeon Gitae said it with a lazy, teasing lilt. He looked every inch the back-alley thug, but as far as Heesung was concerned, he hadn’t been a bad hyung. Heesung took the card without much fuss and gave a short bow.
“Understood.”
“Get in. I’ll give you a lift.”
“I’m fine.”
“Tsk. I’m not kidnapping you, idiot. Get in. There aren’t even any buses out here.”
Gesturing at the barren surroundings, Gitae made his offer. He wasn’t wrong. Moon Heesung checked the five thousand won in his pocket, considered it for a moment, then gave a slow nod.
“I’ll take you up on that.”
“Take me up on it — damn, so formal.”
Gitae clapped Heesung on the shoulder for all his stiff politeness. They climbed into the car together, and the men waiting in the row of black sedans piled in around them. As the car Gitae and Heesung were in pulled away, dust rose pale and billowing into the air. The space in front of the prison emptied out quickly, leaving a bleak and desolate atmosphere behind.
**
The place where he got out of Gitae’s car was the middle of Seoul. Gitae had emphasized all the way to the end — call me, call me. Moon Heesung gave a vague nod and took a long look at the surrounding area. Seoul after ten years was overwhelming. Eight lanes of wide-open road, an endless stream of people moving along the streets, cars rushing past in every direction. It was similar to ten years ago and yet completely different, and for a while Moon Heesung couldn’t bring himself to move from where he stood.
After lingering there briefly, he made his way to a building where a year-end film awards ceremony was being held — a sign that the end of the year was drawing near. The red carpet event was clearly still in full swing. Fans had staked out every available space, and all around them were journalists and staff crowding the area with cameras and equipment. Moon Heesung watched from a distance. On the large screen installed so it could be seen clearly from far away, famous actors who had just arrived were walking the red carpet, smiling and waving to their fans.
Moon Heesung stared blankly at the screen. He couldn’t take his eyes off it, as though there was someone he was waiting for. But as the event drew near its end and the person he was looking for still hadn’t appeared, the blankness in his expression began, slowly, to crack.
He was supposed to be here. I heard he’d be attending…
He had read the article before leaving the prison. The brother he’d come looking for was set to attend this film awards ceremony.
But for whatever reason, there was no sign of the person he was looking for, and Heesung let out a sigh edged with disappointment. He had come wanting to catch even a glimpse from a distance — but realizing it wasn’t going to happen, he pushed the regret aside and turned to go. It was then. Cutting through the crowd of fans and staff, moving somewhere in a hurry — one figure caught Moon Heesung’s eye.
