By Zephyria “Bring him here immediately… No, I’ll head over there right now.”
Even after ending the call, Lee Hae-sung stood still for a moment. Slowly raising his gaze to find Choi Hong-seo, his eyes, now adjusted to the light, distinguished Choi Hong-seo’s features within the dark silhouette. His lover’s eyes were also trembling. He had guessed the content of the call.
To conceal his agitation as much as possible, Lee Hae-sung gripped his phone as if to crush it.
If I get flustered, Hong-seo will become even more anxious.
“Lunch… shall we postpone it a bit.”
Approaching Choi Hong-seo, who nodded heavily, he pulled him into an embrace. Kissing his forehead, he whispered that it would be alright. It was unclear who he was trying to reassure.
Someone who knows ‘Taripa’.
The escort was holding the person at his residence. It was a quiet residential area about a 20-minute drive from the rented villa.
There were no other travelers in sight, and it was far from the resorts or hotels so common everywhere in Ubud.
Sophisticated cafes and shops catering to outsiders gradually disappeared, then vanished completely. They passed over a stone bridge above a valley where trees, seemingly rooted there for hundreds of years, cast long branches. Driving a bit further, a small plain with rice paddies spread out on both sides of the road appeared. Perhaps this was closer to the real lives of the Ubud people than the terraced rice fields of Tegalalang, which had become a tourist spectacle.
Choi Hong-seo had become noticeably quiet since getting into the car.
Lee Hae-sung gently tugged at the hand he had been holding tightly all along and tried to start a conversation.
“What are you looking at so intently?”
“Just… it’s the middle of winter in Korea, but here, rice is growing… I was thinking about that.”
Choi Hong-seo smiled sheepishly, as if embarrassed by his simple thought, and Lee Hae-sung smiled back.
“If only this whole thing could be over…”
“……”
“Let’s go sightseeing and take lots of pictures. I’ve already told Manager Kang that we’ll stay a few more days and enjoy our vacation before returning.”
If only this whole thing could be over—he spoke as if it were a simple errand, but the uncertainty remained: whether they could find ‘Taripa’, whether they could truly settle Choi Hong-seo’s soul afterward, or if ‘Taripa’ even existed in the first place.
Lee Hae-sung rolled down the window to let in the fresh outside air. It felt much more breathable than the cold air from the air conditioner.
Two or three children in school uniforms on bicycles rode past, waving with curious, smiling faces. Choi Hong-seo waved back, and a genuine smile briefly appeared and vanished from his face.
“Do you know the movie ‘Eat, Pray, Love’?”
Choi Hong-seo, brushing away hair blown by the wind, turned to him and shook his head.
“It’s a movie where the setting changes from New York to Italy, India, and then Bali. I thought it would be nice to watch it together while we’re here. When we watch it again later, we’ll remember this trip, won’t we?”
Lee Hae-sung raised their clasped hands, intertwined fingers, and pressed his lips to them.
“Everything… will eventually become a memory. Hong-seo.”
They say that even painful memories become memories once they pass.
If one could only survive and overcome, everything could be embraced as a memory. This ordeal would be no different. Lee Hae-sung could never give up hope.
The car slowed as it turned off the road and entered a narrow alley barely wide enough for one vehicle. The two of them got out of the car, guided by another escort.
It was a house built in traditional Balinese style. Even while adhering to tradition, wealth could allow for opulent and grand architecture. However, the low house before them was quite modest.
“This is the house. He’s a local man, appearing to be in his late thirties. He heard foreigners looking for ‘Taripa’ and approached one of our escorts who was investigating near the royal palace.”
Lee Hae-sung glanced briefly at the house over the wall and nodded. He had instructed them to report immediately if anyone claimed to know even a little about ‘Taripa’.
“He is waiting inside with an interpreter. Please come in.”
The escort hurried ahead, stepping onto the stone stairs. Just as they were about to pass through the narrow gate, a thunderous shout erupted from inside. Peeking in, they saw an old woman sitting on a covered veranda next to the gate, scolding the strangers trying to enter her home.
The escort, unable to understand Balinese, was flustered and didn’t know what to do.
At that moment, Lee Hae-sung, standing behind, pointed to the ground near the escort’s feet and said,
“That. She seems to be angry because you stepped on the Canang Sari on the ground.”
Looking down, the escort was startled and moved away. Near the entrance of the narrow gate, a small box filled with colorful flowers, incense, and a bit of cooked rice was placed. The vibrantly colored box on the dark gray stone steps was strikingly eye-catching, like a cluster of flowers blooming in a wasteland. It was strange not to have noticed it.
“It’s an offering that the people here present to the gods daily. It would be best to apologize.”
At Lee Hae-sung’s explanation, the escort bowed repeatedly to the old woman, repeating, “I am sorry.” It was unclear if she had calmed down, but judging by the scolding that subsided into grumbling, it seemed alright.
Lee Hae-sung and Choi Hong-seo also offered a brief bow to her before entering the gate.
As is customary in all traditional Balinese homes, a small shrine was placed in the center of the courtyard. No matter how small or humble the house, there was always a shrine or temple. The only difference was in their grandeur or craftsmanship.
The stone walls surrounding the house, the central tower occupying the middle of the narrow courtyard, and the three or four smaller towers around it. This alone instantly created a sense of being shielded from the outside world, nestled cozily within this small temple-like home. An exotic yet primitive energy clearly permeated the air. Their steps on the ground naturally became more cautious.
Lee Hae-sung instinctively tightened his grip on Choi Hong-seo’s hand, his fingers intertwined.
From one of the three small houses surrounding the shrine, Lee Hae-sung’s escort quickly appeared.
“Vice President, this way.”
The flimsy wooden door was wide open. They stepped inside. A musty smell wafted from the dimly lit interior, divided in half by a single step. A Balinese man of short but sturdy build, sitting on a chair inside, stood up.
The man’s eyes darted around, observing the well-dressed foreigners.
Lee Hae-sung stepped forward first and politely offered his hand.
“Hello. I am Lee Hae-sung, from Korea.”
While many Balinese working in tourism were proficient in basic English, communication with this man was impossible. After a brief explanation from the interpreter, the man shook his hand. His gaze did not leave Lee Hae-sung’s face.
“The situation is urgent, so I don’t have much time to talk. I heard you know about ‘Taripa’. Where can I meet ‘Taripa’?”
Lee Hae-sung asked directly. However, with an inexplicably awkward smile, the man began to ramble.
“My daughter here is sick and lying down. If we only farm rice, it’s barely enough for our seven family members to eat. I can’t even dream of taking my child to a doctor or admitting her to a hospital. I can only get medicine and give it to her.”
After hearing the interpreter’s words, Lee Hae-sung and Choi Hong-seo looked beyond the man’s feet, where he was pointing. The faint outline of someone lying on a bed was visible.
“I see. You must be very worried.”
“So, you see, this information you’re so desperately seeking… from my perspective, it’s difficult to just give it away for free…”
The man grinned, revealing his teeth. A black gap where a tooth was missing was particularly noticeable. His smile, as he looked from one person to another, was a mixture of servility and sharp desperation.
Lee Hae-sung began to feel uneasy.
“Once we find this person called ‘Taripa’, we will compensate you sufficiently. You don’t need to worry about that at all. Just tell us where we can meet him.”
“Well… I want to believe you, but… rich people, especially those from foreign countries, are not always trustworthy…”
The man scratched his cheek with his finger, smiling continuously.
Lee Hae-sung took a step closer.
He knew there was a high probability that the man was lying. However, this man was the only one who had come forward claiming to know ‘Taripa’ in two days. He had no choice but to place his hope in him.
Lee Hae-sung took off his wristwatch and placed it in the man’s hand.
It was a watch so expensive that the escort watching was involuntarily startled and gasped. It was a tangible asset that could be exchanged for far more money than the man might expect as compensation.
“I don’t have enough cash on me right now. Please accept this watch first. You’ll get a considerable amount even if you sell it used.”
The man raised the watch to eye level and examined it carefully. His skeptical expression made Lee Hae-sung anxious. Lee Hae-sung instructed the interpreter to tell the man how much he could get for selling the watch in the used market.
Upon hearing the price, the man’s eyes widened so much that the whites gleamed in the dim light. He wasn’t the only one whose eyes widened. Choi Hong-seo, standing behind, grabbed Lee Hae-sung’s arm.
“Mister… if this is a lie…”
Lee Hae-sung placed his hand over Choi Hong-seo’s hand that was holding his arm.
“We won’t know if it’s a lie until we go to the place this man tells us. And I have to confirm it, no matter what. What else can we do?”
The man seemed unsettled by their conversation, perhaps worried that they might retract the offer of the watch. He disappeared behind the bed and reappeared, his hand no longer holding the watch. The man spoke with a much more resolute expression and tone than before.
“Mount Agung. You must go to the most sacred mountain.”