Chapter 27.1

Chapter 27.1

As André straightened his posture, his head almost touched the ceiling. Just as he had expected, this place was a small shop selling food and daily necessities to the locals, much like a bodega in New York.

As he slowly looked around the store, he could feel the sharp gaze of the shop owner on the back of his head.

In fact, even though he had been living in Korea for three years, this was the first time he had stepped into such a small shop. He had no idea what to buy. Feeling a bit flustered, he spotted a refrigerator at the back emitting a soft light and headed towards it. Peering inside the transparent fridge, he picked up two bottles of soju.

Returning to the counter, André carefully placed the soju bottles down, avoiding the clutter of lollipops, sausages, and lighter boxes strewn across the old and cramped counter.

The shop owner, who had been nervously watching him, muttered under her breath.

“Oh dear, I don’t know a lick of English… what am I going to do…”

Then, as if speaking to a deaf person, she shouted loudly.

“One thousand won! Okay? Soju, five hundred won per bottle! Two bottles, one thousand won!”

She spoke slowly, breaking down the price of the soju while pointing at each bottle with her finger. André silently pulled out a thousand-won bill from his wallet.

“My, such a fine-looking man, and he understands so well, too.”

With that, the anxiety clouding her eyes seemed to lift, replaced by a glimmer of curiosity. She put the soju bottles in a black plastic bag and handed it to him. André bowed slightly as he took the bag.

“Thank you.”

“Oh my goodness! You speak Korean so well! How adorable. Wait a second, here, have this.”

The shop owner held out a red lollipop. It had been over twenty years since André had last put something like a lollipop in his mouth. He considered politely declining, but then he thought of Miran. Somehow, he felt she would look charming with something like this in her mouth.

With a slight bow, he left the shop, holding the jingling black plastic bag on one finger and the lollipop in the other, making his way to Miran’s rooftop room.

“Heh!”

He burst out laughing.

The narrow alleyways of Poidong, which he had come to on a whim without even having dinner on a sudden bus ride. The tiny Yeonji Mart that looked like a molehill. The 500-won soju. The free lollipop he received for being “adorable.” And… Kang Miran.

“What am I even doing right now?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. He was aware that a part of his mind felt like it had sprung a leak, that he was losing his composure. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to feel serious.

Every time he walked, the barking of dogs echoed loudly, and even the sounds of autumn insects trying to outdo the noise made him chuckle. The smell of doenjang soup and grilled pork belly carried on the cool breeze tickled his nose.

This country had a peculiar charm: it seemed indifferent yet kind, chaotic yet orderly, distant yet overly concerned. The woman who came to mind was… innocent yet seductive.

He took his time as he arrived at the front of Miran’s rooftop room, leaning against a utility pole a little distance from the entrance. He checked his wristwatch; it had just passed seven-thirty.

“Eight o’clock. I’ll wait until exactly eight, then leave.”

André lifted his head to look up at the sky. The moon, just shy of being full with its edges slightly obscured, shone unusually bright, making the sky appear darker and deeper. Even the stars, rarely visible in the Seoul sky, shone brightly tonight.

Two weeks from now, would the night sky seen between the dense skyscrapers of Manhattan look as clear?

What awaited him there was greed, finally baring its teeth, and a long, tiresome war. But right now, he didn’t want to think about such things. Like a soldier on his last leave before returning to the battlefield, he wanted to savor this fleeting freedom and indulgence with all his might.

As he stared at the sky, he suddenly wanted to whistle. It was an impulse he had never experienced before. The awkward whistling started, wavering as it seemed on the verge of breaking, but then it stopped completely when a car’s headlights illuminated the alley, and its engine roared past him.

André looked at his watch. Twenty-five minutes had already passed. He was genuinely surprised. It felt like he hadn’t waited long at all, yet it was hard to believe there were only five minutes left.

He anxiously kept glancing at his watch while watching the direction from which Miran would come. The second hand seemed to move unusually fast.

Four minutes.

Three minutes.

Two minutes.

One minute.