Yuhyeon closed the distance in a few wide strides and shoved his hand into the man’s waistband. His goal was to take back the bankbook and the wad of cash he had given him. Even as he struggled with the man, Yuhyeon’s tears refused to stop.
I was an idiot!
He had been a fool. He had given money to a man like this just because he was his biological father. His father’s desperation, his groveling — it had all been an act, manufactured to get gambling money. A wretchedness too heavy to bear came crashing over him and struck him across the face.
“Have you lost your mind…!”
When Yuhyeon refused to give up and kept trying to take the money back, the man’s resistance grew violent. He grabbed his crying son by the hair and tried to wrench him away, and at one point clawed at the skin around his neck with his fingernails. Even then, when Yuhyeon wouldn’t let go easily, the man finally put his full weight behind a shove and pushed him off.
Thrown back by the sudden force, Yuhyeon staggered several times before falling and hitting his head against the wall. The pain didn’t last long, but his vision flickered for a moment and his head rang. Fortunately, he had caught himself with his palm just before going down, so at least he didn’t crack his skull open. Rainwater seeped in through his trousers.
“How dare you lay your hands on your own father.”
It wasn’t bad enough to keep him from getting up. But his legs, drained of strength, refused to obey him. The rotting, festering ache in his chest was beyond anything he could have imagined. No matter how many times he told himself not to cry, the tears just kept coming. Yuhyeon rubbed at his face and let out a scream of frustration. The sound of the rain swallowed it whole — his grief, his rage, all of it.
When Yuhyeon lost the will to fight and stopped moving, his father spat on the ground and left. He walked away without a single word asking if Yuhyeon was alright, even knowing full well he had hit his head.
I deserved this….
Yuhyeon pressed his tear-soaked face against his knees. He had known what kind of person he was, and he had been fooled anyway. Did the man even know what kind of money that was? It was the pathetic tips he had collected from customers who had mocked him. It was the wages he had saved up by going hungry all day.
The skin his father had clawed at was beginning to sting. The scratches were apparently deep enough that every time a raindrop landed on them, a sharp pain made his shoulders curl inward. Yuhyeon slowly raised his head and looked at the umbrella — its handle snapped clean off.
That belongs to the landlady.
He had broken a borrowed umbrella. He would need to replace it with a new one. But he had no money left. Yuhyeon stared at the umbrella lying on the ground for a few seconds, then slowly, unsteadily pushed himself to his feet. Another thing had been added to the list of things he owed the landlady an apology for. This time, he didn’t even have the means to buy a cake.
A hollow emptiness poured out of him in an endless stream, carried on a humorless laugh. Yuhyeon sent out the highest curse he could offer.
…I wish he were dead.
He didn’t say the subject aloud.
❄ ❄ ❄
Everywhere Yuhyeon went, people’s eyes followed. Was it the muddy water soaked into the seat of his trousers? The swollen, puffy eyelids? Or perhaps the sorry sight of a drowned rat wandering the streets in misery — that alone would have been reason enough.
— Insufficient balance.
He had forgotten to top up his transit card. Flushing with embarrassment, Yuhyeon stepped back off the bus he had just boarded. A convenience store was visible nearby, but without cash to charge the card, his feet couldn’t carry him there. The downpour that had turned the sky ash-grey had passed, and a sharp, bright sun had come out in its place. Yuhyeon decided to walk the rest of the way and let his wet clothes dry as he went.
Glock was forty minutes on foot. Perhaps because his heart was so hollow, even after walking for over thirty minutes he felt nothing. The sun chasing after him was fierce enough that a good portion of the dampness had already evaporated from his clothes. Before long, the sleek black sign with the single clean word GLOCK came into view.
Before stepping inside, he ran his fingers back through his hair — and a sharp, sudden pain flared from the back of his head. When he pulled his hand away, a clump of hair came with it. The culprit was his own father, who had grabbed him by the hair. Yuhyeon grimaced, shook the strands loose, and headed down the stairs.
He had thought he was leaving early, but the clock read five. Yuhyeon exhaled the tangled mess of emotions in one long breath and went straight to the staff break room. Someone acknowledged him the moment he walked in.
“Oh? Hyung, you’re here early? I checked the roster and you’re not on until six.”
It was one of the part-timers, who appeared to be packing up to leave. He slung the strap of his crossbody bag around his neck and looked Yuhyeon over.
What was his name again?
Yuhyeon returned the greeting with a small nod and tried to recall the guy’s name. He vaguely remembered the guy mentioning he was studying something fashion-related, but the name itself wouldn’t come. The impression was firmly etched in his memory — five piercings in one ear, giving off a distinctly rough-edged look — but with so many staff members and shift rotations that changed constantly, names were hard to hold onto.
He gave up on the name. Yuhyeon peeled off his still-damp trousers. Fortunately, his underwear had stayed dry. He changed into his uniform, then opened his locker to take out the ring — the whole reason he had come back. Thankfully, no one seemed to have touched it; the haphazardly crumpled state looked about the same as it had that morning.
Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it here after all.
The weight of it made him uneasy. Yuhyeon hastily shoved the ring into his pocket. Since he had no way of knowing who might come into the break room during his shift, he decided to just keep it on him. He finished getting ready and was about to leave when the part-timer who had greeted him called out.
“Hyung! Hold on. This fell out.”
“Huh?”
In his hand was the ring Yuhyeon had just put in his pocket. How is that already out? Less than a minute had passed since he’d pocketed it — it was uncanny. Yuhyeon quickly ran his hand over his thigh. Only after pressing his fingers into the empty pocket from the inside did he figure out why.
“…The pocket’s torn.”
Both sides were the same. And he had no spare trousers left. The situation was getting genuinely difficult. Yuhyeon scratched his cheek, and the guy casually asked:
“Is this something important?”
“Oh, yeah….”
“Then I can lend you a necklace chain. I was going to buy a new one anyway since I got tired of the design.”
He unclasped the one he had around his neck and set the pendant aside. He threaded the recovered ring onto the now-bare chain, and it actually looked quite presentable.
“This way it won’t slip out like just now. Want me to put it on for you?”
“Really? I’d appreciate that.”
It did seem like wearing the ring around his neck would make it less likely to get lost than keeping it in a pocket. The guy moved closer to clasp the chain around him — then paused, visibly uncomfortable.
“Your neck…. Hyung, it looks like you’re hurt here. Didn’t that sting? There’s a little blood too….”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
“If you say so…. I’ll get the chain back tomorrow — oh, wait… I’m not in starting tomorrow.”
“How come, is tomorrow your day off?”
It sounded like he had been about to say to return the chain tomorrow, but the sentence cut off abruptly. In that brief moment, Yuhyeon drew two conclusions. Day off, or quitting. College students quit all the time because of their school schedules, so he leaned toward the latter. But the answer that came back caught him off guard.
“Huh? Hyung, didn’t you get the text?”
“…A text? My phone’s broken.”
The phone Seongjun had thrown had breathed its last, and he hadn’t even bothered bringing it.
“Ah, that’s why. Apparently Glock is closing for about two months?”
“…What?”
“The manager sent a text — said they’re shutting down for two months due to internal circumstances. Said any part-timers who want to quit should reach out in advance.”
He had no money to spend as it was, and now Glock was closing for two months. Yuhyeon’s color drained and his hands began to tremble. The steady income he had been counting on was about to disappear without warning.
Could I even find another part-time job right away…?
If he couldn’t find work, he couldn’t pay rent. A throbbing headache took hold as the darkness of his future pressed in around him.
“Hyung! Are you alright?”
The guy gave Yuhyeon’s shoulder a quick, light pat, clearly alarmed by how fast he had gone pale and started shaking.
“I’m fi— I’m fine. Fine.”
He didn’t want to fall apart in front of anyone, so he was trying his hardest to look composed — but even his words were stumbling.
“Hyung, you really don’t look well today. Try calling the manager and ask to be taken off the schedule. I think he’d probably let that slide…. Borrow someone else’s phone.”
“…Okay.”
The guy had somewhere to be after this and was heading toward the entrance, but he couldn’t quite pull his worried gaze away from Yuhyeon.
