Chapter 12: The street you are on

When I opened my eyes, I was in darkness. A cool, indigo darkness.
As I turned my head to look around, I felt a sharp, stinging sensation on my cheek, like being pricked by a needle. Startled, I quickly brought my hand to my face, but only a damp droplet remained.
Snow. I tried to move to avoid the snow that continued to prick my skin, but the snow, piled up to my knees, rustled and clung to my legs.

It was an unpleasantly vivid sensation.

“…Huh.”

Through my blurry vision, I saw Han Yeoreum crouched down, writing something.
The rustling sound from the makeshift table, made of crumpled paper and cardboard boxes, scratched at my ears.

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Han Yeoreum scribbled with her pen for a moment, then let out a soft groan and stood up.

“Are you leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Leaving so soon.”
“Yeah. If it weren’t for you, I would have left long ago.”

I dragged myself to the front door.

“You look awful.”

Han Yeoreum said sarcastically, glancing at my face.

“It was a very touching movie.”
“I made breakfast, so wash up and eat. I also wrote down some simple recipes, so try making them when you have time. Stop eating out all the time.”

With those words, Han Yeoreum reached for the doorknob.

“Wait.”

Han Yeoreum turned her head and looked at me with questioning eyes.

“Um… Thank you.”
“For what? Suddenly.”
“For taking care of me.”
“Don’t make a fuss over nothing. I didn’t do it to be thanked.”

Han Yeoreum’s voice was flat.

“Like I said before, I…”
“Just returning the favor?”

Han Yeoreum nodded.

“So next time,”

Han Yeoreum’s eyes met mine.

“Call me if anything happens.”

She seemed to be feigning indifference, but she couldn’t hide the anticipation in her eyes, reminiscent of a child on Christmas Eve.
This was how this girl, Han Yeoreum, found solace. A twisted way of thinking that was still difficult to understand.

“Really?”
“Really.”
“Then,”

I looked around the living room.

The clothing care system standing tall against the wall, the air conditioner, air purifier, washing machine, dryer, and vacuum cleaner lined up next to it. And the large television and speakers occupying an entire wall.

It looked like the appliance section of a department store.

Yes, this wasn’t a home. A home is a place where you can relax comfortably, but this place didn’t even have a proper table to sit and eat at.
I had been lying around in a department store, complaining about the cold. What an idiot.

“I have a favor to ask.”
“What?”

A faint sound escaped Han Yeoreum’s lips.

I now knew exactly what this house needed.
I wouldn’t shiver from the intangible cold anymore, nor would I make impulsive purchases. And I certainly didn’t need her help.

But I did have a debt.

A debt for using her as a means to satisfy my hypocritical morality and for making me realize what a pathetic person I was.

It wasn’t a debt that could be repaid with a few bucks.

“I want to buy some furniture, but I have no taste. I need someone to help me choose.”

Then I would do as she wished. If Han Yeoreum gained something by helping me, I would gladly remain the idiot who couldn’t even choose a dining table.

****

“How much further? My back hurts.”

Han Yeoreum spoke to me inside the rattling train speeding through the darkness. Her voice sounded smaller than usual because of the metallic noise from outside.

“About five more stops.”
“Yawn… Wake me up when we arrive.”

Han Yeoreum closed her eyes again. I suddenly noticed the chairs we were sitting on.

Hard, cold, silver metal lumps, retaining only the bare minimum function of a chair, far from comfortable.

—Aren’t we going too far? There are furniture stores near us.

As she said, it might have been better to go to a nearby department store or furniture store, or even shop online. It would have been faster and easier.

But the furniture sold in those places felt cold and impersonal, like the metal chair I was sitting on.

That’s why I wanted to go there. To confirm, at least.

“This station is huge. Let’s see, we need to go out exit 6…”

A huge station where two different lines merged. A long corridor leading to the transfer gates, underground shops scattered here and there, and numerous exits added to the station’s complex impression.

“It’s closer if we go this way.”
“You seem to have been here a lot.”
“Not really.”

Leaving the station, I slowly took in the street scene.

Blurry signs and rusty tin roofs of buildings clustered along the main road. This part hadn’t changed.
But as I spotted the sleek, modern buildings interspersed among them, buildings I hadn’t seen before, I finally felt the passage of time.

Even this place has changed.

“So why did you want to come here?”

Han Yeoreum asked. Her nose twitched at the acrid smell lingering in the alley.

“It was my dream to shop here.”

We entered a store near the station. It had a charming brick exterior.

“Welcome.”
“Can we look around?”
“Sure.”

After getting permission from the owner, I slowly browsed the furniture on display.

“Hey, how about this one?”

Han Yeoreum pointed at a swivel chair. A seductive crimson cushion and a gleaming white body.
It was an imitation of Eero Saarinen’s Tulip chair, which had become commonplace.

“That’ll be the only thing in your house.”
“Is that so?”

It was pretty, but it looked too cold for me.

“Let’s look somewhere else.”

I headed to the store next door. It was filled with avant-garde furniture suitable for concept cafes or art museums.

“What?”

Han Yeoreum, who had been systematically checking the furniture, stopped in front of a chair with a protruding bottom, like a spinning top.
Like the previous one, it was a copy of a chair designed by a famous foreign designer.

“How does this not fall over?”

Han Yeoreum poked the chair curiously, then plopped down and started swiveling around.
A familiar sight.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Han Yeoreum, noticing my gaze, stood up with an embarrassed expression.

“I just remembered someone who did the same thing.”

I had seen the original of this chair at an exhibition I went to with Yu Garyeon. I could still clearly picture her spinning around in the chair.
Garyeon had been smiling back then.

“…So, did you find anything you want to buy?”
“No.”

We left the store.

“Next, let’s go to…”
“No, let’s go there.”

I turned away from the high-end furniture store on the main street and stepped into a small alley between the buildings.
It was the alley I had walked through with Chae Seolha.

****

On a day when the damp breeze brushed against our cheeks, as we were leaving the print shop and heading to the station, I was startled by a sudden groan and turned around.
Chae Seolha, who had been fine just moments ago, was stumbling.

“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, ugh, I suddenly feel nauseous. Maybe it’s because of the ink smell on an empty stomach.”
“Wait, I’ll go to the pharmacy.”
“No, it’s okay.”

Chae Seolha shook her head.

“I think some fresh air will help. Go ahead, I’ll walk around for a bit before heading back.”
“Forget it, you’re not the only one who inhaled ink fumes on an empty stomach.”

I opened my mouth wide and stuck out my tongue, as if about to vomit.

“You’re good with words, as always.”

I don’t remember exactly what we talked about as we walked. But I definitely remember having a lot of fun.

A store selling electronic parts I knew nothing about, a pet shop with cute animals on display, a small, dilapidated theater.
As we walked, chatting idly about the trivial sights of the street, Chae Seolha and I somehow arrived here.

And then…

****

When I came to my senses, I was running. I had spotted a familiar sign at the end of the alley.
My heart pounded in my chest, and sweat trickled down my neck.

“Why are you suddenly running?”

I caught my breath and reached for the doorknob. It was still rusty and difficult to open.

“Hello.”

A nervous greeting escaped my throat.

“Come in.”

In contrast to me, the owner replied in a disinterested voice. He was assembling a chair, making tapping sounds.
A roughly designed wooden chair, completely different from the ones I had just seen, caught my eye.

“Cough, cough, what is this dust…”

Han Yeoreum coughed and waved her hand, inhaling the dust in the store.

“Are you looking for something?”
“Sir, don’t you remember me?”
“Huh?”

The owner looked at my face with a puzzled expression.

“I came here a few years ago. You called us the hooligans who broke your chair.”
“Sorry, my memory isn’t what it used to be.”

Chae Seolha and I, excited by the unfamiliar scenery, wandered around the alley and entered the store, mesmerized by the owner who was crafting chairs with a dignified air, like a craftsman we had seen in a documentary.
And then, I tripped over a piece of wood on the floor and spectacularly smashed a perfectly good chair. If the owner hadn’t let it go, I might have had to pay a hefty sum.

But he didn’t remember.

“…I see. Can we look around?”

I spoke with a hint of bitterness.

“Go ahead.”

I slowly looked around the store. And then I found it.
The scratch, made by the piece of wood that flew off the chair, was still clearly visible despite the passage of time.

“Hey.”

Han Yeoreum spoke, wiping the dust off a chair.

“Can’t we buy this?”
“Why?”

Han Yeoreum pondered my question for a moment, then slowly opened her lips.

“…Just because. I don’t know how to explain it, but it just looks nice.”
“Really?”
“Well, if you don’t like it, then don’t. It’s your decision.”
“That’s good, because I was planning to buy from here too.”

It might look a little old-fashioned compared to the sleek, designer furniture, but the furniture in this store contained the soul, the heart of the craftsman.

And it also held time.
The time I had forgotten, the time I thought had disappeared…

“You actually bought something.”

Han Yeoreum muttered as we left the store.
I bought two chairs with backrests, a small table, and a single bed. The owner said he would deliver them tomorrow by truck.

As we walked towards the subway station, a sound reached my ears.

—Growl…

As soon as the sound ended, Han Yeoreum clutched her stomach and bowed her head. Her reddened ears peeked out from between her hair.

“What? Is it funny that I’m hungry?”
“I didn’t say anything.”

It was my fault for forgetting about mealtime, preoccupied with buying furniture.

“Do you like naengmyeon?”
“What?”
“There’s a good naengmyeon restaurant nearby. If you’re okay with it, we could go.”

Han Yeoreum nodded silently at my question. I racked my brain, trying to remember the location, and led her through several furniture stores into an alley.
It should be around here. A two-story brick building…

“Why are we stopping again?”

But only a seven-story gray concrete building stood there.
Seeing the dull, imposing building blocking the open sky, I felt a surge of irritation.
Why did the restaurant with 60 years of tradition turn into such a stupid concrete building?

“There used to be a naengmyeon restaurant here.”
“What? So we can’t eat?”

We were in an alley lined with restaurants specializing in Hamheung naengmyeon with raw fish. There used to be three restaurants, each with its own unique character, and people could choose their favorite according to their taste.
But this was the place Dasom and I liked. The thought made me feel melancholic.

“No, there are a few more down there.”
“That’s a relief.”

We moved to a restaurant across the street.

“Two servings of hoe naengmyeon, please.”
“Young man, it’s pay first.”
“I’ll go pay. Give me your card.”

The price of naengmyeon had gone up by 2,000 won in a few years. After paying, Han Yeoreum looked around the restaurant.

“To enjoy naengmyeon, add sesame oil, vinegar, mustard, and sugar… Ah, is this it?”

Han Yeoreum rattled the condiment bottles on the table.

“That’s awfully complicated.”
“Just add a little bit at a time if you think it needs more.”

Soon, the naengmyeon arrived. I listlessly picked up my chopsticks and shoved the noodles into my mouth.
It was naengmyeon. Although it tasted slightly different from what I remembered, it was definitely naengmyeon wriggling in my mouth. I had expected it to be terrible. I was even prepared to throw up.

But it was naengmyeon. It was even refreshing, with a flavor I hadn’t experienced before.
Why hadn’t I known this simple fact, despite having walked past this street countless times? Then I realized something.
I had never actually tried it. I had simply listened to Dasom and developed a vague aversion without even attempting to taste it myself. Perhaps I was afraid to try something new.
It’s just naengmyeon.

“How is it?”

As I looked up after asking, I saw a pig, lips stained red, scraping the bottom of her bowl with her chopsticks. I sighed, feeling slightly deflated.

“Another serving of hoe naengmyeon, please. A large one.”
“I don’t need that much.”

Han Yeoreum mumbled, scratching her nose in embarrassment. I took the opportunity to speak.

“Can I ask you for one more favor?”

At my words, Han Yeoreum blinked and looked at me, surprised.

“What?”
“Packing.”

Han Yeoreum tilted her head.

“Literally packing things into boxes and sealing them. There’s too much for me to do alone.”
“What things?”
“The things I bought at the department store last time. I’m going to get rid of them all.”

****

“I feel so tired even though I didn’t do anything…”
“It’s because we sat on the subway for so long.”

It was 7 p.m. when we got off the bus. The orange sun was setting below the horizon.
We walked up the hill towards my house, bathed in the humid early summer breeze.

“Hey,”

Han Yeoreum spoke.

“Why are you suddenly getting rid of those things?”
“Because I realized I don’t need them.”

I hadn’t had the courage to throw them away before. I might regret it.
But you never know until you try. If I didn’t try, that place would forever remain a department store in my mind.

The image of the furniture street suddenly came to mind.

When I first left the station, I felt like everything had changed.
Unfamiliar buildings stood here and there, and my favorite restaurant was long gone. I thought the street I used to like was gone.

But it wasn’t. There were some changes, but the dusty alley, the old-fashioned signs, the furniture store with the slightly indifferent owner—they were all still there.

Things change.

The street we walked together no longer has you. But the echoes of you and me still linger there.
Even if time passes and the street changes, the fact that we walked that street together will never change, and it will never be erased.

I was foolish.
Why couldn’t I realize such a simple fact?

“Well, it’s not difficult. You still have the boxes, right?”
“Wait.”
“What?”

I won’t make excuses and run away anymore.

“Sorry, go ahead.”

That face, which just a few days ago made me break out in a cold sweat and my hands tremble…
The trembling was gone now. That’s why I could take this step.

My friend, my confidante, the person I liked.

“…Didn’t you quit smoking?”

To the street where you are.