I rolled the chocolate around in my mouth, letting it melt, and thought to myself.
Isn’t it usually the other way around?
I wondered if he was making the same mistake as the blond had — pouring drinks for me. Each time I accepted something from him, the man smiled faintly. Watching that, I felt something strange kindle in the very center of my chest, hot enough to sting.
Without a word, the man poured liquor into his glass and drank it alone again.
I didn’t let the moment pass — I reached between the neatly arranged premium snacks and picked up a piece of meat skewered with a toothpick. Then, watching him set his glass down after drinking, I held the meat out toward him.
“…….”
The man didn’t take it. He just blinked at me.
That unfamiliar expression — I’m done for, I thought.
Fuck, is this wrong too?
A brief silence.
I was starting to think I’d made yet another bad call — that nothing I did ever worked out — when the corners of his mouth curved upward, as if something pleased him.
The man lightly pulled my wrist toward him, parted his lips, and took the meat into his mouth. He chewed slowly, eyes on me, then smiled — the kind of smile that said he was genuinely happy.
“……!”
That smile was so childlike that the heavy air between us shifted in an instant. The brightness was so out of place that all the tension drained right out of me.
And so the man took snacks from me again and again. Eventually he even started hinting at what he wanted with his eyes, and I managed to read him well enough to pick the right thing each time and slip it into his mouth. He alternated between drinking and eating, sometimes smiling, sometimes going loose and languid.
We didn’t exchange a single word, yet being there with him was, surprisingly, not uncomfortable. I shifted my posture for no particular reason and absently fidgeted with the cast on my aching arm. I’m not sure how much time passed — but the man had nearly finished that entire bottle of strong liquor by himself.
He didn’t seem drunk, but still — from the feel of things, I thought it was probably time to wrap up….
“You can go.”
The man gave his permission.
I looked at him, not quite sure if I could really stand up. He pressed the glass to his lips and drank slowly, watching me with a gaze that said leave now or I’ll eat you alive — and since I had no reason to stay glued to my seat any longer, I got up.
I gave a light bow and was about to slip out quickly when his voice hit me from behind like a dart.
“Come back tomorrow.”
He said it, and then refilled his glass. There was only one answer I could give to that.
“…Yes.”
I turned away and walked out the door without looking back.
It was only after stepping outside that my legs gave out beneath me.
I swayed.
My body tilted.
I barely managed to catch myself against the wall and let out a slow breath. A wave of burning heat and dizziness crashed over me all at once.
Come back tomorrow.
The man’s words rang in my ears like tinnitus and wouldn’t leave.
I pressed my lips together and turned to look back at the door. He would still be in there. Through that closed door, it seemed like his scent was drifting out thick and heavy.
* * *
I slept in.
Soft sunlight falling gently over me. It’s been a while since I’ve felt that.
Eight in the morning. I’d been lying there for five hours with every switch in my body turned off, and only now had I come back on.
Considering I’d slept on the cold bare floor wrapped in nothing but a blanket, my condition had definitely improved. The cough had stopped, and only a slight low-grade fever remained.
How did I even get home yesterday.
After leaving the room and coming down from the VIP floor, I’d gone straight to the back waiting room I always used during my costume character shifts. It was only there that I finally pulled off the cumbersome mask I’d had covering my face. It was better than the full character costume, but a mask wasn’t exactly comfortable either.
My body had nothing left in it, and I was on the verge of just collapsing right there, when the manager burst through the door in a rush.
“Oh my god!!”
He took one look at my face and recoiled. He fluttered his hands in front of me — like he wanted to do something but couldn’t quite bring himself to touch me.
“Oh no, oh no — look at your face, it’s a complete mess!!”
“…….”
“Oh my god, blood!!”
The manager jumped up and down on the spot, then frantically called for someone to bring a first aid kit. I wondered what that was about — then realized it was because of my shirt, which had blood soaked into it near the shoulder.
Once the first aid kit arrived, I figured getting patched up here would save more time and money than going to the hospital, so I shrugged off the jacket I had on. I started unbuttoning my shirt to expose my shoulder — but the moment the manager saw the wound, he went pale.
“Oh! Oh no! That’s disgusting!”
As if just looking at it was unbearable, he covered one eye with one hand and used the other to dab at the area near my shoulder with a cotton swab held in tweezers. Watching him carefully avoid the actual wound and apply the antiseptic everywhere but where it needed to go, I couldn’t help letting out a helpless sigh.
At this rate we’d just be wasting time, so I pushed the tweezers aside, roughly poured the antiseptic over the wound myself, and found the ointment to apply.
“Ack! Are you crazy?! What do you think you are, some kind of action hero?!”
Whatever that’s supposed to mean.
I ignored him, pressed a piece of gauze over the wound to secure it, and called it done. I was about to put my shirt back on, but figured it would be better to change into my own clothes, so I asked the manager.
“Where are my clothes?”
“Hm?”
“My clothes.”
“Your clothes? What do you want with those old rags?”
“…….”
“Sorry.”
When I said nothing, the manager covered his mouth with his hand like he’d realized he’d said something wrong.
“Your clothes were just so… vintage. Even a beggar from the stone ages wouldn’t dress like that.”
“Did you throw them away?”
“Here, wear this instead.”
The manager ignored my question and quickly shoved another set of clothes into my arms.
I figured there was no point arguing with him about it, so I pulled off the bloodstained shirt and changed into what he gave me. He watched my reaction carefully and then slipped something in casually.
“Normally he’s a complete gentleman — the type who wouldn’t even speak to the actual staff… I mentioned that, right? That he was a little pissed off because of you.”
“…….”
“Go to the hospital if you need to, and you don’t have to come in until nine!”
“Understood.”
“…God, you idiot. Can’t even take what’s handed to you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m saying take your tip money and don’t forget it.”
The manager laughed like it was nothing and jerked his chin in some direction. It happened to be somewhere near my backside, so I felt around — and there was something tucked into my waistband and back pocket.
Checks.
The money the blond had slipped into me. And in the back pocket — that bundle of checks he’d said he’d give me if I finished all the liquor he poured to overflowing.
When did he even put these in there?
Oh. Could it have been when he shoved me from behind?
I stared at the money with a slight frown, and the manager smiled in that unpleasant way of his and said:
“Clock out here for today. And this is cab fare.”
Despite the fact that I’d already received more than enough, the manager pressed fifty thousand won into my hand.
And so I left West Hollywood, pushed open the old green gate, stepped inside, wrapped myself in a blanket, and went down.
Maybe it’s because I’m never here at this hour normally…. It feels strange. Like even time moves slower here.
“…….”
Gurgle.
I flinched at the quiet rumble from my stomach and slowly looked down. I’m actually hungry….
I poked at my completely flat stomach and let out a short, bewildered laugh.
Huh. I’m still alive after all.
That thought just came to me, out of nowhere.
Despite all the alcohol I’d thrown back, there was no heartburn, no nausea — just hunger. Is expensive liquor really that different?
Normally I’d be heading out to a part-time job at this hour, but with my arm like this, I’d been cut from all of them. Well — not all of them, I suppose.
Anyway, that meant I had nothing to do until nine in the evening, just floating through the day. Should I look for a part-time job? I wasn’t sure if I could even find one….
I scratched my head and got up. I crumpled the blanket and tossed it to one side, then walked to the back door. When I opened it, a chill crept in. This spot — the one that never sees sunlight three hundred and sixty-five days a year — served as the kitchen, the bathroom, and the boiler room all in one. Along one wall, about five coal briquettes left behind by the previous tenant were rolling around haphazardly.
It was a heating method you’d barely find anywhere now that gas and oil had become the norm, but nothing beat it for cutting down on fuel costs. Still, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually used one. Since settling in here, I didn’t think I’d lit a single one….
I turned away from the briquettes and looked toward the sink. No refrigerator here. Since I was barely ever home to begin with, I’d never seen the point in getting one. I opened the cupboard and half-heartedly rummaged around for food that definitely wasn’t there — nothing came out — and I scratched my cheek for no good reason.
I went back to the room, changed out of the uncomfortable clothes, and pulled my cap down low. Then I shuffled out in my slippers and stepped through the gate.
As I made my way down the alley, a small black bird hopped along ahead of me. It has wings — why is it walking like that? I stopped and stared blankly at it for a moment before dragging my slippers along again, heading toward the convenience store.
Being morning, the lunch boxes were all sold out, so I grabbed one of the few remaining triangle kimbap and a hard-boiled egg. I spent a few seconds debating whether to get a cup ramen before deciding against it and heading to the counter.
