For Kang Sae-byeok there was only one way that the games could go and that was going home with the money, so when they voted to end it and dropped her back in Seoul, she was, understandably, pissed.
She had to go back to her small room in a shared department that didn’t have a heater or hot water on most days. She had to go back to a roommate who she had barely spoken to during the weeks she had lived there knowing that she had been there. At the games. For some reason.
Sae-byeok couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Why was she there? How much money did she owe? What set of circumstances could have taken her to that, admittedly horrible, place?
Had she voted to get out? Sae-byeok doesn’t remember. As she walks the steps up to their apartment, she thinks she doesn’t even know this girl’s name.
She takes a short shower, stepping out of the tepid water into the cold bathroom tiles, shivering furiously. She gets dressed in her room and when she goes back out to the living room/kitchen/dining room, she’s there.
“You were there,” the girl says looking at Sae-byeok as if she was seeing her for the first time ever.
Sae-byeok only nods. What else could she say?
“So, I didn’t have a fever dream. Good, I guess,” the girl adds.
They stand in awkward silence for a moment, until Sae-byeok decides this is enough and goes to the fridge to get a snack. It’s empty of everything but a bottle of soju. She takes it and goes to sit on their ratty sofa. She can feel the springs digging into her thighs but it’s such a common sensation that it barely registers. She opens the bottle and takes a long drag, savoring the sweet, burning sensation in the back of her mouth.
Sae-byeok sees the girl still standing there, staring unblinkingly to space.
“Hey!” she says, gesturing with the bottle to the sofa. “You look like you need this more than me.”
The girl, number 240 her brain supplies, sits down. She takes the bottle and drinks, grimacing as she swallows. Sae-byeok tries not to stare at her neck where she can see specks of blood.
From one of them, the ones who died playing the game. Or maybe it’s hers and she’s hurt.
“Are you hurt?” Sae-byeok asks.
“Physically? Just some bruises. Emotionally? Spiritually? I guess more than just bruises,” the girl responds.
They drink in silence until there’s nothing left in the bottle but the condensation from their hands holding it.
“How did you end up there?” the girl asks.
“Someone gave me a card. I need the money,” Sae-byeok replies, in a cutting tone that, hopefully, deters future questions on the matter.
“Someone found me when I came out of prison. I had nowhere to go. I don’t even have money to pay this place, I did some unspeakable things to get money for this place but I don’t know what to do now. I don’t want to do that for money again.”
The rush of words left Sae-byeok wondering if the girl ever stopped to breathe between sentences.
“Why were you in prison?” she finds herself asking.
“I killed someone,” the girl answers with a finality that doesn’t leave room for further questions. Then she stands up and says, “you’ve been living here two weeks and I don’t even know your name. I just let the landlord dump you here and asked no questions.”
“Kang Sae-byeok.”
“Well, Kang Sae-byeok 씨, see you around.”
“What’s your name?” Sae-byeok blurts out.
“Ji-yeong,” she says simply.
“Family name?”
“I don’t have one,” she says already entering her room. She closes the door and Sae-byeok stays staring at the empty space where she had been just a few moments ago.
When Sae-byeok goes to sleep, she can hear Ji-yeong sobbing in her room through the thin wall separating their rooms. She wants to offer something, but what? Sae-byeok has nothing to offer to anyone. Now that she is out of the game, it’s very likely she’ll be dead before long.
She sleeps in her uncomfortable bed, thinking that the beds at the game had been a lot softer, cleaner. Better than anything she had ever slept on. She thinks of going over to the orphanage to see her brother, she’ll see him again. She’s out.
But she’s back at square one and her mother is still trapped in the North and she’s no closer to bringing her here.
She’s out of chances.
She dreams of a quiet home filled with the smell of her mother’s bibimbap and her brother’s laughter and wakes up to a wet pillow in the morning.
The visit to her brother had taken everything out of her. She wants him home. She wants him to go to school and to pick him up and to tease his enthusiasm about math.
She walks aimlessly around the Seoul streets after that, not even bothering to eye potential victims to her switchblade and quick hands. She finds herself outside of Southern Men Northern Women, not completely sure of what brought her here.
She goes up and the agent offers her a coffee. As he pours it, he talks about starting the process all over again, finding a new agent, starting with finding her parents’ location.
“So how much then?” she asks again.
The man inhales deeply before replying.
“You’ll want… at least 40 million.”
The glass clinks as she puts it down.
“Forty million,” Sae-byeok deadpans. Hot, white anger rising inside her chest.
“You’re only paying to get them to China, though. If you want to get them to the South then-“
He doesn’t get to finish as she throws the coffee on his face.
“That burns! Oh, that’s fucking hot!”
She’s onto him a second later, switchblade at the ready, digging into his neck. A wrong move and he’ll bleed.
“Damn it,” the man whimpers.
“I trusted you and brought my money here like you told me. That money is something I risked my own life to get.”
And she had almost lost her life trying to get more. Sae-byeok couldn’t say that, so she tightens her hold on the man, pushing the blade of her knife against his skin.
“Hey. Uh… I had no idea,” the man sobs. He’s going to cry and Sae-byeok can’t stand seeing grown asshole men cry. “I didn’t know those people would just run off with all your money.”
She can feel his pulse quicken, scared. She can’t be sure if he’s lying.
“Please, I swear,” he breathes out.
She has made a decision. She has to find her way back into the games.
“Sure. I’ll get your money. You pull anything on me…” Sae-byeok pauses to make her point with her knife, always better at talking than herself. She takes the chance to palm at his jacket, feeling a wallet in his breast pocket. The man whimpers again. “I’ll rip your fucking throat wide open, and that’s that. You got it?”
The man nods and sighs when the knife is no longer in his throat. Sae-byeok moves quickly to take the wallet and moves away, walking decidedly to the door.
She hears a relieved exhale and then panicked cries and swearing as he notices the missing wallet.
Sae-byeok buys herself a fancy (well, fancy for her) plate ramen with the money.
When she’s back at the apartment, grocery bag in one hand and large bottle of soju in the other, she notices the place is a mess.
Well, it’s always been a mess, only one of the kitchen plates works, the faucet is always dripping and there’s enough mold behind the fridge that could it probably start its own Korea. This time, the sofa is turned upside-down, there’s papers strewn about the room and a broken bottle crunches under her feet when she steps inside.
Without taking off her shoes, she makes her way into the kitchen to drop the groceries and grab a plastic bag to pick up the glass.
“Ji-yeong 씨!” she calls out.
When there’s no answer, she goes back to picking up glass fragments until she can’t make out anymore. Then there’s a knock on the door and a card slides under it, a circle, a triangle and a square stamped on it. The back of it has a date and the words the same place as before. Sae-byeok picks it up and pockets it. When she stands up, Ji-yeong is standing next to the kitchen counter. She looks wrecked, as if she’s been crying all day, her clothes are crumpled and her hair sticks out in many directions.
“What happened here?” Sae-byeok asks.
“Bad morning, that’s all. Is that food?” she asks hopefully.
“Yeah, we can eat together if you want,” she offers. Not sure about what compelled her to do it. Ji-yeong looks so fragile standing barefoot in the middle of the room. It makes something rise inside her chest.
Together, they straighten up the sofa and pick up some of the papers that have been tossed about as the kettle boils for the soup. They don’t speak as they clean up, nor do they speak while they serve their bowls and sit down on the sofa.
Ji-yeong eats hurriedly, as if the food would run away from her or Sae-byeok would take it away for some reason. Or maybe she’s just very hungry. Sae-byeok wonders how long was it since she last ate.
“I don’t know what to do,” Ji-yeong mumbles after she’s finished, reaching for the bottle of soju.
“I’m going back,” Sae-byeok says without thinking. “I going to find them again.”
She doesn’t mention that they’ve apparently found her already.
“If anyone could win, that’s you,” she replies. She takes another gulp of soju and passes the bottle to Sae-byeok.
She doesn’t know what Ji-yeong means, but it makes something warm blossom in her chest. Ji-yeong believes in her. I could win, Sae-byeok thinks.
When she finishes eating, she glances up and sees Ji-yeong looking at her with a weird look in her face.
“What?”
“Nothing, just wondering. What are you going to do with the money? What’s your plan then?” Ji-yeong asks.
“I did this to get a house where I could be with my brother first. Then I’ll get our mother out of the North,” she says.
Ji-yeong scoffs.
“Hey, with a prize that big, you can do a whole lot more than that.” She gestures to get the soju bottle back and Sae-byeok give it to her. Ji-yeong is looking a little flushed already. She then adds pensively, “you gotta want something else too.”
She looks at the window with a view of their neighbors from across the street.
“Is there anywhere you wanna go?”
Sae-byeok thinks about it. All she wants to do is be with her family and have a real home to get back to. Maybe see the coast.
“Jeju Island,” she replies.
“Jeju Island?” Ji-yeong is smirking.
“There was a thing about it on TV,” she feels the need to defend her choice. “It looked exotic. It didn’t look like Korea at all.”
Ji-yeong chuckles making Sae-byeok look away.
“Hey,” she says softly, “don’t you think you should dream bigger, huh? Do Hawaii. Hold on, go to the Maldives for a while instead.”
She’s got a glint in her eye when she says it. Sae-byeok tries to imagine all of those exotic places but she can’t. There’s a chance she won’t make it out of the game at all.
“And have a mojito too,” Ji-yeong adds.
“Mojito?” Sae-byeok turns to look at her again.
“Like the movie,” the girl explains, “Lee Byung-hun’s in it. ‘Go to mojito and have a glass of Maldives.’”
At Sae-byeok’s lack of recognition, she shakes her head.
“Really?” Ji-yeong snickers again. “Oh, no, we gotta fix that then. We’ll have a girls’ night out and make mojitos and everything, okay?”
Ji-yeong is laughing and Sae-byeok feels a blush creep up her cheeks. She adores that musical laugh. Her heart is pumping so loud inside her chest that she thinks the other girl might be able to hear it and it’s laughing at that.
Sae-byeok takes the soju bottle from the table and takes deep, long drags.
“Hey, Kang Sae-byeok 씨. Let’s do it.”
“What?”
“Let’s make mojitos and watch Inside Men,” she says smiling.
Sae-byeok doesn’t even know what a mojito is, but she still says, “what do we need?”
In the end, they serve the best rum they could afford (the chepeast) into the plastic cups with the smashed mint leaves, lime juice and powdered sugar. They add some soda and the ice they crush by dropping the ice bag to the floor repeatedly, probably infuriating the downstairs neighbor to no end.
When Sae-byeok takes a sip, she grimaces. She looks up to see Ji-yeong also frowning.
“This might be the worst mojito in the world,” she says cheerily.
“It’s strong,” Sae-byeok adds for good measure.
“You don’t like it?”
“You just said it was the worst mojito in the world,” she points out.
“How would I know? I just came out of prison. They don’t have mojitos in prison,” Ji-yeong teases with a smile. “Come on, let me see your phone.”
She plays with the thing and grins.
“Let’s watch a movie, Kang Sae-byeok 씨.”
They sit on the sofa, touching from shoulder to hips to knees. It gives Sae-byeok a heady feeling, it feels new and warm. She already misses it. They have to incline their heads together to look at the small screen, close enough that Sae-byeok’s breath occasionally ruffles Ji-yeong’s hair.
For a sweet moment, she forgets about the money, about her mother in the North, about her brother in the orphanage, and she lets herself have this. Ji-yeong’s warmth as she huddles closer, her head resting on her chest, drinking her mojito and smiling at the tiny screen.
Halfway through the movie, Ji-yeong breaks the quiet asking “You ever seen anyone die before them?”
Sae-byeok knows what she’s talking about. She doesn’t want to think about it, but her mind goes back to her village, to the smell of smoke lingering on her clothes for weeks, the soldiers’ feet the only noise to be heard above the flames of the funeral pyres.
“Once, we had this plague go through my town when I was a kid. As time went on, more and more towns got sick and died. Soldiers started carrying the dead into piles and lit them on fire.” Sae-byeok takes another sip of her drink, “That’s how my grandpa, grandma and older brother all died. They burned together.”
Ji-yeong sits up and looks at her, round brown eyes looking a bit out of it. Sae-byeok glances at her glass and notices Ji-yeong already drank the whole cup.
“Damn. Your stories are a bit too dark even for me,” she says.
Sae-byeok scoffs.
“And you? What have you seen?”
The movie keeps playing in the background, the actors are speaking about money, revenge and presidential candidates. Ji-yeong drops the phone on Sae-byeok’s lap and goes to the kitchen counter to pour more rum into her cup. She arches an eyebrow in her direction, offering her more.
“Just bring the bottle,” Sae-byeok says, shrugging.
The movie has kept playing and she doesn’t know what’s happening anymore, but she uses the dialogue to keep track of time as Ji-yeong drinks, staring at the wall.
“First body I saw…” she starts, “my mother’s. One day, I came back from school, and my mom was lying there, dead on the floor. And next to her… was my so-called dad with a knife.”
She drinks the rest of her glass in a big gulp.
“The next body that I saw… that was my dad’s. And the person standing there holding the knife… that was me.”
Sae-byeok wants to look away, but she’s too caught up in the way Ji-yeong looks so young. How old is she anyway? she thinks. I came back from school, she said.
Before she can do the math, Ji-yeong continues, “he was a goddamn pastor too. And when he hit her and… did the things he did to me, he would talk to God. He’d always ask for forgiveness.”
No, Sae-byeok thinks. She doesn’t know where it comes from, but the protectiveness is there already. She won’t let them get to her. Ji-yeong has to get out of this mess and live far away from all of that. Sae-byeok swallows the rest of her drink heavily. It settles on her stomach like a stone.
“He didn’t pray on that day after he killed her. He forgot, I guess,” the hand holding her plastic cup is shaking.
Without thinking, Sae-byeok grabs her wrist, steadying her hand. She takes the drink and sets it down on the table, her fingers intertwining with Ji-yeong’s of their own accord.
“I got a card, too,” Ji-yeong whispers.
No, no, no.
Sae-byeok’s heart beats faster, blood rushes to her ears and something turns in her stomach. Do you want to go back? She wants to ask.
“What are you gonna do if you win all that money and get out?” she asks instead.
“I don’t know what I would do,” she replies. She’s looking at their hands, lazily resting on the couch but the current of energy that seems to run between their fingers makes the bond unbreakable. “Someone was waiting at the prison the day I got out. I thought he was a creditor who came to collect my dad’s debt. But he pulled out a card. That weird card.”
Ji-yeong’s other hand reaches for the bottle of rum and takes an undignified swig, making a face at the taste.
“I had nowhere else to go, so I… I never thought about what I’d do if I got the money. Go with you to Jeju Island?”
Sae-byeok doesn’t say that she thinks there can only be one winner in this game.
“Sorry. I forgot again,” Ji-yeong says, apparently guessing her train of thought.
They don’t say anything for a while and Sae-byeok can feel the respect for this girl growing to unprecedented heights. She’s so strong, she’s so resilient, she’s so beautiful. She looks at their hands and it feels right and real in a way nothing else in her life feels.
“Give me that phone, you’re missing the movie,” Ji-yeong says finally.
The movie goes on for about half an hour and they watch it mostly in silence, Ji-yeong answering Sae-byeok’s questions about certain things she doesn’t understand about the South Korean government, before admitting that she herself has no clue how things work outside of prison. She never had a reason to care.
When it’s over, Ji-yeong gets up and stretches, her top riding up and exposing her midriff. Sae-byeok’s eyes go there of their own volition.
“This was fun, let’s do it again sometime,” she says. And then, “Sorry. I forgot.”
Ji-yeong gives her a sad look, shakes her head and goes to her room.
Sae-byeok stays in the sofa, drinking rum straight from the bottle as she plays another movie. This film looks older though, and revolves around a mute hitman who wants to use his money for an operation.
Maybe that man would play the game and win. He has the skills, he is smart, he is ambitious. He reminds her of Deok-Su. If they’re giving a chance to all the players who left, Sae-byeok knows that he’ll be there. He’s too deep into the bullshit to give up now. He might even try to get his men together to attack the people who will pick them up, see if he has a way to get the money without actually playing.
Sae-byeok hopes someone cuts his dick off before he has a chance.
She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting on the couch after the movie ends, but her phone needs charging, so she stands to go to her room. The entire apartment spins as she stumbles her way into her bed.
Sae-byeok plus her phone into the charger and lies down face-first into the bed.
Before long, she’s asleep, dreaming of brown short hair, big bright eyes and small smiles shared over a mojito. It makes her heart ache with something she cannot name.
“Kang Sae-byeok 씨,” someone says in her ear, close enough that it startles her, bolting her body upright and crashing her head into someone. She reaches for the knife under the pillow instinctually.
“Sae-byeok 씨, it’s just me,” she recognizes Ji-yeong’s voice but can barely make out her small frame in the darkness.
“What are you doing here?” Sae-byeok asks, rubbing at her eyes to try to wake up. She sees Ji-yeong rubbing at her cheek where they collided.
“I can’t sleep. Can I sleep here tonight?”
“Why?”
“I see them every time I close my eyes. Dropping dead like moths touching a hot lamp. It’s not pretty.”
Sae-byeok realizes that she’s barely thought of the people who already died. All she can think about is the money to get her mother and her brother safe. That’s the only way to win the game.
“And sometimes I see him. My so-called father,” she adds in a smaller voice. “I see him playing his own sort of games, using more women, to hear them yell and sob at what he does to them.”
Without saying anything, Sae-byeok opens the covers and lets Ji-yeong slide inside. The smaller girl immediately huddles close to her, searching for warmth. Sae-byeok’s nerve endings fire all at once and she tenses. She has never been close like this with anyone outside of her family. Well, there had been a friend once, but when Sae-byeok held her, she felt differently. In some ways, it resembles the way Ji-yeong feels against her body.
“How old are you, Sae-byeok 씨?” Ji-yeong asks, her voice muffled against her chest.
“Twenty-one,” she answers. She doesn’t want to say much, lest she scare Ji-yeong away as she scared her friend back in the village.
“Ah, Sae-byeok-a then,” Sae-byeok can hear her small smile.
“Why? How old are you?”
“Twenty-five,” Ji-yeong says. “You can call me unnie, if you want.”
Sae-byeok isn’t sure if she wants that. She wishes there was another word, unique for bonded-after-playing-a-death-game. As things are, there isn’t one. Maybe it’s for the better. When Ji-yeong doesn’t say anything else, she assumes the girl must have fallen asleep, and Sae-byeok can feel herself going in that same direction.
Suddenly, a raw sob escapes Ji-yeong’s throat, shaking her entire body. An earthquake in the silence of the room.
“Ji-yeong 씨?” She tries, but the Ji-yeong doesn’t react, she keeps crying into her chest, trembling like an autumn leaf. Sae-byeok puts her hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“Unnie?”
Ji-yeong’s hands grab Sae-byeok’s t-shirt, tightening into fists. She cries harder, as if her body can’t hold all of her feelings inside anymore. Sae-byeok’s arms surround her, shielding her from the world. Ji-yeong relaxes into her embrace, melting into a puddle of tears and soft sniffles.
Sae-byeok holds her like her life depends on it. This is the game now. This is where the prize is at. It’s not money, but it’s the promise of something. Something. Kang Sae-byeok longs for that something else.
As the sky displays the first signs of the morning, Ji-yeong finally falls asleep, spent. Sae-byeok lets herself imagine a world where they can stay like this, wrapped around each other as if the world can’t touch them.
This, she thinks as she closes her eyes, sleep and alcohol giving her the beginnings of a headache that she can’t wait to sleep away. I want to keep this too.
When Sae-byeok wakes up, she’s alone in her tiny bed. She can smell coffee from somewhere in the apartment.
It’s tonight, the thought flashes in her mind.
She goes back to the game tonight.
Sae-byeok stares at the ceiling and wonders if there’s another way. She owes so much money, there are bad people after her, she can’t get 40 million won pickpocketing random guys in the street.
There’s no other way.
She makes her way to the shower and is happy to find that the water is hot enough this time. She takes her time under the spray, thinking about what the next game will be.
Will Ji-yeong go back too?
She has to convince Ji-yeong to stay so that Sae-byeok can come back to her. They’ll go to Jeju Island together. They’ll drink real mojitos and do one of those underwater incursions. They’ll go to the beach and they’ll hold hands in the gardens with the big statues. They’ll sleep in a nice bed and watch movies and Ji-yeong will laugh again and Sae-byeok’s heart will be full.
Later, she finds the girl in question in the kitchen, eating dry ramen out of a small packet while turning a stick around her store-bought coffee. Sae-byeok notices a second cup of coffee still covered by a lid at the edge of the counter.
“That’s yours, Sae-byeok-a,” she gives her a shy, small smile. It feels like a continuation of last night’s conversation.
“Thank you,” Sae-byeok answers, wrapping her hands around the Styrofoam cup to warm them up.
“I’m not going back,” Ji-yeong says out of the blue.
“What?”
“Stay with me, Sae-byeok-a. I’ll help you get the money to bring your mother. To get the house. I’ll do whatever it takes, but I’m not going back.”
The rush of words makes Sae-byeok’s heart stops beating the same rhythm, switching to a much more aggressive thud.
“I have to. They’re gonna kill me if I don’t pay them back. If they kill me, my mother will never be free. My brother will always live in the orphanage.”
“I’ll help you. I swear it. On my life.”
She’s looks so serious, it scares Sae-byeok.
There’s a lump in Sae-byeok’s throat, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. She can’t mean it. They don’t know each other. Sae-byeok needs at least forty million won. Forty million. She owes other thugs double that amount.
There’s no other choice for her.
“I have to go,” she says, her voice trembles.
“Sae-byeok-a, please. Please don’t do it. Trust me, we can do it. We’ll find a way.”
Trust me.
Sae-byeok doesn’t trust anyone.
She puts the coffee down, grabs her sweater from the sofa and goes to the door.
“Please, Sae-byeok-a. Stay. Please don’t go,” she begs, cutting her way to the exit.
“Let me go,” Sae-byeok says, her tone low and dangerous. A threat.
But Ji-yeong doesn’t back down.
“Then I’ll have to go with you. Make sure you win.”
“No,” Sae-byeok says through gritted teeth.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do. They invited me again too. If you go, I’ll call and go with you,” she repeats stubbornly.
It ignites a white, hot rage rise inside of her, that Ji-yeong values her life so little that she’ll go back into actual hell to help her. A stranger. Someone she barely spoke to during the whole two weeks they’ve known each other.
She takes Ji-yeong by the front of her shirt and shoves her into the wall.
“You think I’ll be thankful if you do this, huh?” she can feel tears running down her cheeks, scorching trails into her skin. Sae-byeok doesn’t know where it’s coming from. This deep seated need to protect Ji-yeong, to make sure she’s safe, that nothing ever touches her beautiful, pale skin again. Sae-byeok shakes her tiny body, making Ji-yeong smile.
“I’ll make sure you win,” she smirks.
“Ji-yeong, that’s bullshit! You’re not going back there,” a sob escapes her throat.
“I have nothing,” Ji-yeong says. “You’ve got a reason to want to live outside of the game. Maybe if I go back, I’ll keep winning for you. Maybe we can split the pot and leave together.”
But her face suggests she doesn’t believe it. Ji-yeong leans back into wall, closing her eyes. If they go back into the game, both of them could die.
Before Sae-byeok can think of a reason not to, she leans in and presses her lips against Ji-yeong’s.
Ji-yeong tenses under her touch and Sae-byeok is about to retreat, when a couple of hands reach to wrap around her neck, bringing her closer.
It’s like summer rain, warm and comforting and heavy. But it’s also a monsoon, furious and all-consuming, the crashing waves of the ocean threatening to take back the land by force if necessary.
Ji-yeong’s nails dig into her skin and the mild pain grounds her to this moment in time, making it the longest in her life so far.
When they come up for air, Ji-yeong is blushing. Sae-byeok feels her cheeks heat up in response. A fire inside her belly is making her want to keep kissing Ji-yeong until she can put the fire out. Or maybe, kissing her will fan the flames and burn them both to the ground.
“Sae-byeok-a,” Ji-yeong starts.
But before she can say anything, Sae-byeok lets her go and rushes to the door, slamming it on her way out.
She runs down the stairs, jumping the last few steps when she hears her name being called out from behind her. When she’s at the entrance of the building, she sprints to the right, rushing to make a few turns to lose Ji-yeong.
She stops at an alleyway, doubling over and putting her shaking hands on her thighs. Once her heartbeat has gone back to a somewhat normal level, and her pants have become something less of a ragged breath, she leans back into the wall, letting her head hit the cement with a dull thud.
What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?
She closes her eyes but all she can see is Ji-yeong’s face, closed eyes and parted lips. Her nose piercing glittering even in the muted light of their tiny kitchen. Instead, she opens her eyes again and stares at the wall in front of her.
Sae-byeok doesn’t know how long she stays there, head empty, just staring at the brick wall. Still, at some point, her back starts to hurt and her feet feel tired, so she stands upright, rolls her shoulders and walks around aimlessly.
Sae-byeok can’t stop thinking about the kiss.
She had asked someone the time (stealing her wallet in the process) and the woman’s voice reminded her of Ji-yeong.
Was she calling the people from the game? Was she so disgusted with her that she was burning her stuff back at the apartment because she knows Sae-byeok won’t be coming back? Was she angry? Was she sad?
Sae-byeok feels so stupid. Her one chance at something and she ruined it. This is what happened with her friend back in the village all over again. She should’ve known better, should’ve been smarter. This is not her. Sae-byeok doesn’t trust anyone and she has no reason to feel indebted to anyone she doesn’t actually owe money to.
Yet, when she buys herself some tteokbokki, all she can think about is what Ji-yeong is eating today, if she will eat anything before she stubbornly goes back into the game.
Stupid Ji-yeong with her soft lips and bright eyes and sweet smile. Stupid Sae-byeok for letting her guard down even for a moment.
She has to go back.
True, if she goes back, she might die. If she doesn’t go back, she dies anyway, leaving her little brother in the orphanage forever, with no way to see his mother again. If she doesn’t go back, she misses her chance to hug her mom again. If she doesn’t go back, there will be no going for mojitos in Jeju.
If Ji-yeong goes back with her, there will be no mojitos to be had.
Reluctantly, she walks back to the apartment, still unclear on what she’ll do once she gets there. She buys some hotteok at a cart a block from their place, lingering for longer than necessary.
Sae-byeok takes a deep breath and goes up the stairs to her apartment. She stands by the door without knocking for a stretched moment, wondering if she would have gone inside already had she taken her keys when going out. Maybe not, she thinks.
The door opens abruptly, leaving her with her right hand raised in the air, mid-knock.
“Sae-byeok-a?”
“I brought hotteok,” she announces.
Ji-yeong smiles her brightest smile yet as she lets her in.
They eat in silence, standing by the window, looking at the mismatched curtains of their neighbor across the street.
“Are you going back to the game, Ji-yeong-a?” she asks when she finishes her pancake.
“Are you going back to the game, Sae-byeok-a?” she’s teasing her, but Sae-byeok can hear the slight tremor in her voice. When Sae-byeok doesn’t respond, Ji-yeong adds, “it’s supposed to be soon. If we’re going, we have to leave quickly.”
Sae-byeok thinks back to her brother, to her mother, her father. Everyone had sacrificed so much to get here. She feels she hasn’t done her part to keep the family together. She keeps failing at her one duty as a daughter, as an older sister.
They need a house, they need money, they need stability for a fresh start.
She needs to go back.
“How do you suppose we’ll get 40 million won to get my mother back?”
“We’ll find a way,” Ji-yeong replies.
“How? There is no way,” she whispers.
She needs to go back.
“Then we’ll make one,” Ji-yeong replies assuredly.
A sob escapes Sae-byeok’s throat.
She needs to go back.
Warm arms wrap around her waist, fingers pressing lightly into her back, comforting. Sae-byeok melts into the touch, resting her forehead of the top of Ji-yeong’s head. Her shoulders shake with the halted cries that can’t bubble out of her throat.
A house for her mom. Picking up her brother from school. Jeju Island.
Mojitos in Jeju Island.
This. This. This.
If she wasn’t so selfish, she’d be out of the door already, on her way to the meet point. Instead, she’s soaking up Ji-yeong’s heat, soaking up the smell of her hair, soaking up the way their bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces.
“Stay,” Ji-yeong whispers, so low that if Sae-byeok wasn’t wrapped around her, she wouldn’t have heard it.
She needs to go back.
This. This. This.
Sae-byeok still wants a house for her mother, to pick up her little brother after school, to find out who she is in the South. She still wants to go to Jeju Island.
Sae-byeok also wants the promise of something else. Ji-yeong’s promise of something else.
She knows she’ll regret this moment of weakness in the morning, this second-guessing so unlike her. Her heart has never felt as heavy as it does now.
With a sigh, she whispers, “I’ll stay with you.”
When Ji-yeong looks up at her, her cheeks are stained by tears. Her eyes look hopeful.
“Sae-byeok-a?”
“I’ll stay,” she repeats.
Her heart is racing. This is wrong. Her hands are sweating. This is a terrible idea. She feels as if she can’t breathe.
Ji-yeong’s hand touches her cheek tenderly, Sae-byeok leans into it.
Then there’s lips on her lips. Warm, sweet, sticky lips, pressing softly. Sae-byeok lets herself have this moment. Ji-yeong’s something more.
The world is falling apart, but for now, right this moment, this kiss, their mouths, Ji-yeong and Sae-byeok are the only thing that’s going to keep it together.