Chapter 10: Awareness

I felt dizzy. A cool breeze entered ceaselessly, as if a hole had been drilled in the center of my body, and sticky sweat trickled down my back.

I tried to sleep to forget the cold, but I woke up soon after. Then, unable to bear the surging nausea, I vomited yellowish bile before falling into a dead sleep. And then I woke up again, unable to endure the chills shaking my body.

Something was wrong. Should I call an ambulance? But I didn’t know where my phone was. Perhaps I left it in the taxi. I wanted to go to the hospital, but my legs wouldn’t move.
It couldn’t be helped. This was my punishment. Punishment for hurting the people around me.

I was being swallowed by this cold, empty room.

…

It was a strange sensation. Something soft like cotton candy, yet slightly rough and heavy, enveloped my forehead, and a cool breeze blew beneath it.

I opened my eyes again.

“Ah.”

A faint breath grazed my nose. The white light from the ceiling pierced my eyes.

“Oops.”

I heard a few clicking sounds, and the white light changed to a soft, amber glow.

“Feeling better?”

Through my blurry vision, I saw dull-colored eyes, dark circles, and messy hair. It was Han Yeoreum.

“Hey, tell me if you’re not feeling well. We’ll go to the emergency room if it’s still bad.”

When I just moved my lips, unable to grasp the situation, Han Yeoreum sighed deeply.

“You still haven’t changed the batteries in this, have you?”

Her outstretched finger pointed to the front door.

“We agreed to finish organizing today, remember? Yesterday you said you couldn’t because of something. But you didn’t answer the doorbell no matter how much I rang it, so I came in, just in case, and found you like this. Does that explain things?”

Han Yeoreum said that and took the wet towel from my forehead, dipped it in the basin, and wrung it out.

“Hey, if you understand, answer me. Are you going to the emergency room or not?”
“Why…”

I had a lot to say, but those were the only words that came out.

“Because I have to leave again if you die. And starve.”

Han Yeoreum replied, squinting as she wrung out the wet towel.

“Answer me. I’m getting annoyed.”

I shook my head, and Han Yeoreum, looking suspicious, stuck a thermometer in my ear.

“Your fever seems to have gone down… Then get up. No, no, lean here.”

Han Yeoreum helped me lean against a pillow propped against the wall, then stood up and brought a box from the entrance. The tape sealing it shimmered amber.

“It’s a makeshift table.”

Han Yeoreum muttered, as if answering my questioning gaze, and then headed to the kitchen.
Soon, the sound of clattering and a savory smell filled the house.

“I bought the pot and bowls with your card. I got the cheapest ones.”

The bowl Han Yeoreum placed before me contained creamy porridge.

“Eat.”

Steam rose from the porridge as I scooped it up, moistening my lips. I carefully put the spoon in my mouth.

“It’s hot, so eat slowly.”
“Okay.”

The warm grains melted down my frozen throat. Han Yeoreum watched me eat for a while, then sat down in a corner of the room.

“Tell me if you feel like throwing up.”

****

As soon as I finished eating, Han Yeoreum took the empty dishes to the kitchen.

“Just leave it, I’ll do it.”
“Just stay put.”

Han Yeoreum’s sharp gaze pierced me. She added a single sentence and turned away.

“I’m just returning the favor.”

I opened the window to get some fresh air, and a breeze brushed against my face.
A full moon hung alone in the dark, starless sky. There were a few clouds, but not enough to obscure the moonlight.

“What are you doing?”

A sudden voice cut through the silence.

“Just getting some air.”
“You already did that earlier, so don’t worry about it. Just lie down.”

Han Yeoreum closed the window roughly and patted the bedding spread out in the corner of the room.

“Hey, what are you doing?”
“What?”
“Aren’t you going home?”

Han Yeoreum opened her mouth in disbelief at my question.

“Where do I have to go?”
“No, I mean… The motel. It’s late.”
“Ah, that.”

Han Yeoreum looked around the ceiling for a moment, stretched, and spoke.

“I’m going to leave after I see you fall asleep. You might be okay now, but your condition could worsen while you’re sleeping. I don’t want to clean up your vomit again… Oh, right.”

Han Yeoreum, fidgeting, pointed at the television hanging on the wall.

“I’m bored, can I watch that? I thought I should get the owner’s permission first.”

When I remained silent, speechless,

“I’ll take that as a yes. Call me if you feel sick while you’re sleeping. Ugh, what is this, it hurts my eyes. I still think it’s too big…”

She’s so self-serving.

She’s always been distant, but today, every word she said felt barbed, strangely confrontational.
Forget it. Arguing with a kid would only give me a headache.

As I was rubbing my head and about to go back to bed, a sudden loud noise filled the room.
A loud foghorn-like sound, like a whale’s cry, gripped my chest.

I reflexively turned my head to identify the source of the sound.

A harbor city bathed in the sunset. A black spot suddenly appeared on the red-tinged brick road.
Passersby, noticing the change, frowned, and umbrellas, blooming from their hands with a flurry of sounds, dotted the brick road with various colors. A flute melody drifted down with the raindrops, caressing my ears.

“Hmm.”

A faint sniff interrupted the melody. It was Han Yeoreum. She was blinking her half-closed eyes and holding the remote control.

“Wait.”

I quickly ran and grabbed the remote, and Han Yeoreum’s shoulders flinched.

“Wh-What?”
“Don’t change the channel.”
“O-Okay, just let go.”

Han Yeoreum snatched the remote from my hand and threw it on the floor.

“Sorry, but be quiet.”
“O-Okay.”

A thud echoed through the room, but I didn’t have time to worry about it.

A turquoise-tinged road, the splashing footsteps of children running with their raincoats pulled down, jazz music filling the streets, and the flushed cheeks of a man and a woman gazing at each other in an alleyway.
Even though the sun had set, the street beyond the television screen sparkled more brilliantly than ever.

And now, the man, gazing into the woman’s blue eyes, was about to speak. It was the moment the story began.

—My love, my love, Geneviève…

A sweet melody flowed from the man’s lips.
A transparent yet subtly passionate voice, like a bird in love courting its mate. The fluctuating intonation clearly revealed the man’s beating heart.

The song, flowing past my ears and into my heart, evoked a certain scene.
A dim light filtering through tattered curtains, dust-covered hair and the faint scent of shampoo, a room with a projector whirring as it projected a film.

And I was sitting there—

“Pfft.”

A sudden burst of laughter pulled me back to reality. The images that had been shimmering before my eyes disappeared. I turned my head with a hint of resentment.

“Oops…”

The culprit, trying to hide her amusement, blinked innocently and ran a hand through her hair. But the twitching of her neck and the flaring of her nostrils were hard to conceal.
She was trying to be considerate in her own way. I couldn’t even get mad.
No, come to think of it, I also bit my lip like that at first…

****

“Pfft.”

I quickly covered my mouth. The back of my neck tickled, but I had to endure it. I could hide it now. I took a deep breath and carefully shifted my gaze.

“Ah.”

At the end of my gaze, I met black, shimmering eyes. Her slightly flushed cheeks conveyed her emotions to me.
My heart skipped a beat.

“No, it’s just, I suddenly remembered the movie we watched yesterday. You know, I’m not laughing at the movie itself.”
“Huh? What?”

Chae Seolha tilted her head at my incoherent explanation.

“No, it felt like you were mocking it. It’s a movie you like.”
“Why would that be mocking? I laughed because it was funny.”
“It wasn’t a funny scene…”

The scene where the heroine, tired of waiting for the hero who had gone off to war and lost contact, accepts another man’s proposal. It wasn’t a scene that would make anyone laugh.

“Oh, you look like the Virgin Mary dressed like that.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at Chae Seolha’s exaggerated expression as she mimicked the song from the movie.

“It is an outdated line. It can be funny depending on how you look at it.”
“I-Is that so?”

Chae Seolha suddenly pulled her chair closer. She must have noticed that I didn’t understand what she meant.

“It’s not ‘Is that so?’, it is so.”

I instinctively leaned back at her strangely close presence and warm breath, but Chae Seolha ignored me and pulled her chair even closer.

“Now, listen.”

Chae Seolha continued, holding my shoulders. It felt more like a strange pressure than embarrassment. I gulped and listened to her.

“Dojin, you think sad movies should be sad and funny movies should be funny, right?”

I nodded.

“And you think movies that don’t evoke those reactions are poorly made, right?”

I nodded again.

“Why? Why do you think that?”

Chae Seolha looked at me with curious eyes.

“I’ve never thought about it.”
“It’s probably because of the critics. They say things like that and give scores.”
“…I guess so.”

As soon as I finished speaking, Chae Seolha leaned closer.

“How do you think I feel right now?”
“W-What?”
“How do you think I feel right now? Guess, quickly.”

I suppressed my rising blush and examined Chae Seolha’s face. Her sharply arched eyebrows, the faint breath from her nose, her slightly trembling lips—they all felt incredibly lovely.
No, that’s not it.

“Angry…?”
“Why do you think that?”
“You’re frowning. And your voice sounds a little angry.”
“Wrong.”

Chae Seolha tapped my shoulder and twisted her lips.

“I’m happy. Very happy.”

I was confused. Not only because of Chae Seolha’s face shimmering before my eyes, but because I couldn’t understand her intentions.
Chae Seolha spoke again.

“Movies are the same. They’re made by people, so they’re bound to be complex. Even if it’s different from the director’s intention.”

Chae Seolha’s words landed like a stone, creating ripples in my heart. I had never thought about it that way, despite having watched movies for years.

“In fact, I think people who insist on interpretations by citing the director’s intention are the ones disrespecting the movie.”

It was impressive. And at the same time, I envied her. Her ability to see things multi-dimensionally, her ocean-like capacity.
I had failed because I couldn’t do that.

“I see. I understand now.”
“Really!?”

Chae Seolha’s eyes sparkled. She seemed pleased that I understood her.

“Yeah, while watching movies, I—”
“Yeah, yeah, unlike normal movies, all the lines in this movie are sung, right? It might seem artistic at first glance, but it’s actually really funny. Because no one talks like this in real life. Everyone’s too busy hiding their true feelings. That’s why it feels strange and funny.”
“Huh? Well, yeah…?”

Chae Seolha’s rapid breaths tickled my cheek. Her voice was getting louder.

“No, I think we should laugh.”
“Hey, I get it, so just—”
“After a good laugh, you realize, ‘Ah, that world is different from reality.’ And then you take a step back and appreciate it. That way, you can feel it more deeply. You can focus more on the purity of the work, its ephemerality and beauty. Do you understand what I mean?”

She was close. So close that I could clearly feel the subtle heat emanating from her hair cascading before my eyes and her soft-looking skin.

“Hey, listen—”
“Hehe, Dojin is different after all. Other people just nod when I talk, they don’t seem to understand. I started wondering if I was the weird one. But anyway, I’m really glad. I’m so happy to have a friend who understands these things. I sometimes wonder if this is okay. Right, after we finish watching this, let’s take a break and watch another one while we eat dinner…”
“Chae Seolha!”

Chae Seolha’s eyes widened at my near-scream.

“H-Huh?”
“Just back off a little.”
“Huh…?”

Chae Seolha looked around, her face flushing crimson, and then she recoiled as if she had been jolted.
Continuing to back away, she pressed herself against the wall and spoke, almost crawling.

“Uh, what was that about…?”
“Forget it, it’s not like this is the first time you’ve done this.”

Her embarrassed, downcast gaze, glancing up at me, was tinged orange in the dim sunset light.
It was probably around that time that I started thinking, I want to be next to this person.

…But how did things become like this?

Because things changed. Because it wasn’t like before.
Words that didn’t reach, unreasonable demands, distrustful gazes. At some point, talking to them, to Chae Seolha, became suffocating.

But I endured, afraid of ruining everything if I spoke up carelessly. I thought things would get better if I just tried harder.
But nothing improved, so I resigned…

No, enough with the nonsense.
Actually, I didn’t want to resign.

I wanted her to stop me. To acknowledge me and rely on me like she used to.
Even as I was entering the company, that dark desire flickered within me.

But I let it all go.
I went to the company, suppressing the resentment, the disappointment, and the longing that welled up every time I saw them. Because I wanted to talk to them again. Because I thought something might change because of this incident.

Yes, from the beginning, I didn’t care about the contract. Such grand justifications were just a pretense to hide my pathetic feelings.
In the end, I just wanted them to understand. Why I decided to resign.

And then, once more…

Suddenly, I felt a heavy sensation in my eye. It hung there for a moment, dangling, before falling with a plop. Damn, it stung.

“Hey.”

I heard a rustling sound behind me, and then a box of tissues nudged my thigh.

“Don’t rub it with your hand, it’ll swell.”

Suddenly, everything felt pathetic. It was a fleeting, draining feeling.

“You seem to really like that movie.”
“…Yeah.”