#55

Tae-heun sat next to the child, holding a magazine, glancing at the workbook. The child didn’t seem to have a talent for math. Whenever Tae-heun looked over, the child covered the workbook with their hand.

“Don’t look at me.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

As Tae-heun turned away, the child resumed working on the workbook. The two continued their silent battle of glances until the child straightened up and called out to Tae-heun.

“Sir.”

“What?”

“My dad is getting a rice paddy next year.”

The child said it as if they had just remembered, puffing out their chest.

“A rice paddy?”

“Yes. A rice paddy. Once we have that, we won’t have to go work at other people’s houses anymore.”

When the child said “other people’s houses,” they briefly glanced at the wall calendar.

“Did you buy it?”

“No. How can you buy that?”

The child made a face as if they couldn’t believe such nonsense.

“We’re borrowing it. Most of the rice paddies in this neighborhood belong to the chairman, and everyone is farming by borrowing them. The grandfather who was farming the best land passed away last month.”

“Really? Was he sick?”

“No. He was drinking and riding his motorcycle home when he fell into the paddy ditch and broke his neck. Just like that.”

The child raised their hand and mimicked cutting their neck.

Now Tae-heun understood why the child had caused such a fuss earlier with the man. It was clear they had thought of that grandfather when they heard about someone falling while riding a bicycle after drinking.

“With the rice planting just around the corner, my dad has been struggling a lot. Even now, he’s managing that grandfather’s paddy all by himself.”

Tae-heun recalled the paddy where they had done weeding together not long ago. Hadn’t he been managing the water flow alone just yesterday? He had seemed so concerned about the drought, as if it were his own paddy, and Tae-heun had thought that was just how he was, but that land would soon belong to the man.

“Originally, other grandfathers and uncles were making a fuss about wanting that paddy, but the chairman promised it to my dad.”

“For free?”

“Sir, come on.”

The child frowned and looked serious.

“Where in the world is anything free?”

“Okay, okay. Why are you getting angry?”

“Anyway, we signed the contract last month.”

The child emphasized the word “contract.”

“But why starting next year? Ki-beom is doing the planting and taking care of everything.”

Suddenly, a bunch of puppies dashed quickly across the yard. They seemed to be playing among themselves. The child’s attention was momentarily diverted, and Tae-heun asked again, “Why starting next year?” The child seemed annoyed that he had brought it up first.

“Sir, why do you ask so much?”

“I’m just curious. It feels like when you’re interrupted while taking a dump.”

Talking about poop made the child giggle.

“I don’t know the details, but according to So-jin, the grandfather’s sons were trying to mess with the contract period or something. They said they didn’t want to farm even if they died, but they still wanted to get paid, you know? So annoying. Because of that, the chairman had to hire a lawyer and all. It ended well, though.”

The child turned their gaze back to the workbook.

Tae-heun lay down next to the child. He looked up at the fluorescent light, lost in thought. That wide paddy would belong to the man. Even if it wasn’t his outright, at least he wouldn’t have to go from house to house earning a daily wage anymore. The calls asking him to help with their work every evening would decrease, and he wouldn’t have to see the man sighing as he added schedules to the calendar after arguing about not being able to do it.

Tae-heun naturally imagined farming alongside the man. Together, they would turn over the dry land and fertilize it. They would plant rice and eat bibimbap for a snack like everyone else, and after the planting was done, they would celebrate with pork belly and makgeolli, patting each other on the back for their hard work. If weeds grew, they would weed them, and if it rained, they would put on yellow raincoats and check the water flow together, getting soaked. In the autumn harvest season, they would stroll through the golden paddy, feeling pleased that this year’s harvest was abundant. In winter, they would do some gardening and gather in the warm living room, blowing on sweet potatoes and hot buns.

Just imagining it made him so happy that tears welled up in his eyes. He knew how absurd his imagination was. Yet, he couldn’t stop. It felt so vivid, as if he had experienced it himself, and it overwhelmed him, making it hard for him to shake off.

A daily life shared with the man and the child.

“Sir, are you crying? No, you’re smiling.”

The child looked down at Tae-heun intently.

“If you cry and smile, hair will grow on your butt.”

“Sir, you already have hair. Want to see?”

“Ew.”

The child pretended to gag. Just then, the man came in. The child immediately reported to him.

“Dad, the sir said there’s hair on his butt.”

The man flinched. Not understanding what was going on, he looked back and forth between the child and Tae-heun, bewildered.

“It’s a joke. Do I look like someone who would have hair on my butt? Ki-beom saw it too, right? I don’t have any hair.”

The man turned away without answering. He walked briskly to the kitchen as if he had something to do. He opened the refrigerator and took out some barley tea.

The child giggled.

“He’s cute. My dad is so naive.”

“Yeah, very.”

Tae-heun replied, thinking again about the early morning work. About the man lying there like a corpse and Kwon Yong-jun, who had been sitting with his head down between the man’s legs. The sticky, slimy sound echoed in his ears.

Shit. He suddenly sat up. He couldn’t stand the jealousy of Kwon Yong-jun, who had taken the man. Without realizing it, he gritted his teeth and let out a low groan. The child looked at Tae-heun with a puzzled expression.

“Does the child like Kwon Yong-jun more than me?”

“Sir, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Tae-heun kicked off and left. He didn’t respond to the man’s question of where he was going.

He ran without thinking. His breath was coming in gasps, and his heart felt like it would burst. Still, he didn’t stop. He ran and ran. As he reached a point where he felt joy beyond the pain, Tae-heun realized that the emotion he felt was not just jealousy. It was fear. The fear that the two people in his sweet imagination might not be him and the man, but Kwon Yong-jun and the man.

He stopped. Panting, he looked back. The man’s house was nowhere in sight. Only a vast darkness remained.

Tae-heun was standing in the yard. The blazing sun was hot. Sweat trickled down his chin. Looking down at his palm, he saw crushed flower petals. When he brushed the petals off, the center of his palm was stained with the color of the flower.

“Manager, what are you doing out here?”

Dung-chi called out. Tae-heun ignored Dung-chi’s words and continued to stare at his palm.

So pretty.

He thought.

When he looked up, he saw the paddy ridge. The man standing across from him was smoking a cigarette stained red with fatigue. His gaze, looking at the green paddy, was filled with affection.

“From next year, this will be my paddy.”

The man boasted. As he exhaled smoke, he had already moved far away.

“Let’s go together.”

Tae-heun shouted, but the man grew more distant. The figure of the man turned into a dot in an instant. Tae-heun felt anxious. He hurriedly walked along the paddy ridge to catch up with the man. He almost ran. His feet grew heavier. Looking down, he realized it wasn’t a paddy ridge but a muddy swamp. His feet, stuck in the mud, wouldn’t come out easily. Struggling, he took one step at a time, but lost his balance and fell into it.

Mud splattered on his face. When he spat it out, it wasn’t mud but blood. His hands were covered in blood. He wiped it on his clothes. Something was shaking in front of his eyes. When he looked up, a middle-aged man and woman were hanging there, sticking out their tongues. It wasn’t hard to recognize them as the owners of the second-floor house he had chased away.

“Thank goodness the girl is ugly.”

Tae-heun said thoughtlessly to his father.

His father struggled to move his head and looked down at Tae-heun. Their eyes met.

“Please, save me.”

His father pleaded.

“If we get out of here, we’ll be on the street. Please let us keep this house. I’m begging you.”

“Well, you should have raised your children properly. Why blame us?”

Tae-heun scolded his father instead.

He wanted to find the man who had gone far away, but his legs were in the way, making it hard to see ahead. His mother wailed, and his father comforted her.

“Shut up, it’s so noisy.”

He waved his hand as if swatting away flies.

He looked for the man, avoiding the two people’s legs. But he couldn’t see him. Tae-heun was left alone in the vast paddy, unable to move because of his legs stuck in the mud. The spirits of the dead seemed to mock him, shaking their legs joyfully.

“I told you. I said I’d come back.”

His father chuckled.

Tae-heun’s eyes widened. He gasped for breath. Shit. Shit. He spat out curses.

The dream was evolving. A man unrelated to that second-floor house appeared. This shouldn’t be happening. That dream, that nightmare, was solely Tae-heun’s burden to bear. Even if it was a dream, he didn’t want to take the man there. It felt somehow uneasy and ominous.

When he turned around, he found himself in the bedroom. The man, shirtless, was sleeping soundly next to Tae-heun.

Last night, after running back home like a madman, Tae-heun had settled in the bedroom, saying he wanted to watch the 10 o’clock drama. The man had worried about Tae-heun but, as usual, didn’t ask why. He simply prepared another spot next to his own bedding for Tae-heun.

The man fell asleep quickly. Tae-heun lowered the TV volume and fixed his gaze on a drama about trees that he had no interest in. He didn’t feel sleepy. His body was awake from the night’s run. He sat still, staring at the TV until the drama ended and the late-night news began, trying hard to block out any stray thoughts.

Then, feeling annoyed at how soundly the man was sleeping, he lay down next to him. He lay on his side, staring intently at the man’s profile. Watching the man’s chest rise and fall at a steady pace, he listened to his breathing. The unknown anxiety gradually faded away. He matched his breathing to the man’s. That was the last memory. In an instant, he fell asleep.