DS 38

Eun-myeong nodded vigorously. His already damp eyes widened, as if he were confirming that the man truly understood his heart.

“Yes.”

Then, biting his lower lip hard, he let the tears stream down. Like a child who had grown up oppressed, finally meeting the savior he had long prayed for.

“What was so…”

The man whispered softly, asking what had been so scary. Seeing strands of hair falling over the rounded forehead, he raised his hand. He lifted his middle finger, which didn’t bend well, and gently brushed the hair aside.

Even the texture of the hair was so soft that it clung to his hand. Possessing a vivid imagination, the man naturally recalled the sensation of the pubic hair covering the space between Eun-myeong’s legs.

The color was beautiful, and there wasn’t a single coarse strand; when twirled with a finger, it wound around perfectly. If licked one by one with a tongue, it held a smooth luster, as if it had received an expensive beauty treatment.

Unaware of the dark thoughts swirling in the man’s mind, Eun-myeong seemed to like the touch, quietly leaning his head into the man’s hand. His cheek was crushed helplessly against the firm, rough palm. He seemed to find considerable comfort in it.

The sound of soft, rhythmic breathing reached the man’s hard palm. For a man who had spent most of his life gripping only sharp and hard objects, it was a remarkably unfamiliar sensation. Until he had this in his possession.

Eun-myeong’s bright red lips trembled.

“The… the Director, he hit me.”

“Yeah, he did.”

Perhaps because there were too many thoughts in his head, his lips parted and closed several times.

“He called me a retard, just like that. And he said that’s why my mom and dad abandoned me. No matter how much I think about it, I don’t think that’s why I was abandoned, but he kept calling me stupid.”

Eun-myeong’s eyelids gradually closed. Sleep was rushing over him. Not only had he spent the night in that cramped space, but a fever was boiling through his entire body.

“I tried to go to school, but he cut my uniform… He said it’s useless to learn things like studying since I’ll just be sold as a cock-pot anyway. I couldn’t even finish middle school, that’s why I became stupid…”

Even so, he wanted to keep telling him things. Flushed with fever, he mumbled, barely aware of what he was saying.

“I probably wasn’t that stupid when I was born.”

Usually, he didn’t speak much, but now the words poured out like a broken dam. Perhaps he had longed for human warmth so much. The man had simply opened the door to the meat locker, but Eun-myeong poured out his emotions as if something inside him had been unlocked.

Those emotions became damp tears that flowed down the man’s chest.

“But I’m not that stupid. They said I’m good at weaving cast nets, pulling up nets, cooking spicy fish stew, and serving… that I’m good at it…”

“Who did?”

Leaning down toward Eun-myeong, the man spoke in a voice that was uncharacteristically affectionate, as if promising to give him whatever he wanted if he behaved.

“…The Boss.”

His eyelids were almost completely closed. Round eyelashes cast shadows over his cheeks—shadows shaped like crescent moons. Perhaps because he had been under immense stress, sweat trickled down his forehead.

“Do you want to sleep and wake up?”

Yes, Eun-myeong nodded. The strength gradually left his neck, and his limbs went limp. Then, he fell into a deep sleep in an instant. His small chest heaved up and down, breathing as if fighting to survive. It was quite absurd and funny.

Letting out a short laugh, the man tried to rise from the bed, only to look down at the hand gripping his side tightly. In the small hand clutching his shirt, there was a silent will to never let go.

Haa. Only then did the man let out a short laugh, his chest trembling. It was utterly ridiculous.

There were very few things in Eun-myeong’s life that he could call his own.

Most of the things that flowed into the orphanage eventually fell to Eun-myeong once they became old. A worn-out padded jacket, a short-sleeved T-shirt with holes in the armpits, sneakers with flapping heels.

The first new item Eun-myeong had ever written his own name on was a textbook. Lee Eun-myeong. Once he wrote his name in the book, a Noona sat him down and taught him how to study.

It was a book he cherished. “Eun-myeong, you have to learn well to become a good person and make a lot of money.” His Noona used to say that habitually.

Eun-myeong didn’t know what a “good person” was. He just wanted to make a lot of money. As much as possible. That’s why he liked studying.

Moreover, learning something meant bringing something new into his empty life and filling his inner void. He liked that part very much.

That was why.

When the Director tore his books to shreds, it felt as if his heart were being torn in several directions.

The Director even cut his school uniform, telling him to feel exactly what happens to those who don’t listen. Eun-myeong begged for forgiveness, promising he would never work or look at a book again, but the uniform was instantly turned into a rag.

From then on, he gave up on school and had to work. For Eun-myeong, desire meant surrender. He stopped being greedy altogether before something else could be snatched away.

After that, even when he saw something delicious or wonderful, he was quick to look away, telling himself it wasn’t his.

He had a very long dream. His head felt heavy. His mind was hazy, as if heavy rain clouds had been lingering and then finally drifted away.

As he slowly lifted his heavy eyes, the first thing he saw was a tanned chest. It was firm, as if two brown concrete bricks were placed on either side.

The next thing Eun-myeong discovered were scars, both large and small. Deeply etched into the skin…

When fish are caught on a hook, their mouths often tear and fray because they don’t heal properly. It felt like he was looking at scars like that. Marks that had risen in grotesque lumps because they weren’t treated in time.

Eun-myeong traced them one by one with his eyes.

‘I can’t breathe…’

Suddenly, his chest felt tight. Upon looking, he realized he was being held tightly by the man. A thick arm was draped heavily across his stomach. He thought it was strange that a single arm could be this heavy.

Furthermore, he remembered his body being incredibly dirty before he fell asleep. But there was no fishy smell, as if the man had washed him. He must have smelled terrible… He began to walk on eggshells, wondering if the man, who usually groomed himself relentlessly, might be angry with him.

The man was asleep beside him, eyes closed. His thick eyebrows were slightly furrowed; even in sleep, he looked strangely on edge.

However, having only seen the Boss, who was always alert and had a sensitive, high-strung aura, seeing him lying there with the tension gone from his neck evoked a new feeling.

Because the Boss’s chest was so large, he felt stifled, but Eun-myeong remained as still as if he were dead. He was terrified that if he moved even a little and woke the man, he would stop holding him. He intentionally breathed softly, as if afraid a single stray breath would give him away.

Once he realized he was being held, the uncomfortable tightness instead felt cozy.

“Mm…”

Instead, the man let out a groan and shifted his body. Eun-myeong’s world, which had been pressed against him, began to shake. Squeak, squeak, the bed springs screamed as if begging for mercy. In contrast, Eun-myeong held his breath.

“Hmm.”

With a low, rough groan, the man pulled Eun-myeong even closer. Then, he buried his nose deep into the crook of his neck. Huu, huuu. Loud breaths poured over his skin.

It tickles. Eun-myeong shrank his neck. Then, he tentatively grabbed the man’s waist. Just the collar, just the edge. He summoned the maximum amount of courage he could muster.

Thump, thump, thump. He could hear the man’s heartbeat through their touching skin. Just like his physique, the sound of the heartbeat was very loud. Listening to that sound quietly made him feel incredibly relieved.

The thought that he had woken up and was not alone made his chest swell with emotion. He bit his lip hard and tried to hold back the tears, but he couldn’t suppress the sobbing that surged up.

So, Eun-myeong cried silently, stifling his breath. Gathering his breath as much as possible inside, he bit a handful of the back of his hand. Crying like this prevented the sound from leaking out. It was a skill he had mastered while crying secretly every night at the orphanage.

As if bound tightly with ropes, Eun-myeong remained motionless in the man’s arms, barely managing to wiggle his toes where the moonlight pooled.

Then, he drifted back into sleep. A teardrop clinging to the tip of his eyelash flowed down his rounded cheek.