The Unbelievers

Chapter 65

I shouldn’t have said I didn’t want to live together from the start.

Then I wouldn’t have needed to hear those merciless and cruel words about it being garbage behavior.

“…”

Eunseong collapsed onto the bed. His hair fell to one side. After staring blankly at the stains on the dirty wallpaper, he turned on the phone he got from his friend.

He searched for Seongha Momentum, then Yoo Siwoon’s name, and looked for articles mentioning his company. Feeling disgusted with his own actions, he abruptly sat up as if to quit it all.

“How pathetic, really.”

He cursed at himself for still having lingering attachments when he had run away to escape.

He left home because he decided to end it. He didn’t want to be involved anymore. He didn’t want to waste a single thing, not clothes or food, bought with Yoo Siwoon’s money.

He couldn’t say there wasn’t a vengeful desire to remain as a painful blemish of an unfulfilled task for that responsible person. Eunseong’s existence was close to a task that needed to be completed for him. That’s why he had people stationed at the subway station bathroom, waiting for Eunseong to come back for his bag.

Feeling an inexplicable stubbornness, Eunseong got up from his seat, grumbling. He put on the hat borrowed from Kim Dongjun and left the staff dormitory. There were too many things he needed immediately to live here from now on.

Five in the afternoon was the shift change time with Kim Dongjun. Seeing Kim Dongjun go straight to school after finishing work motivated Eunseong to make concrete plans for living.

He had done night part-time jobs before, but nothing wore the body down as much as switching day and night. The human body was meant to live during the day when the sun was up and sleep when the sun went down to live normally.

Under Yoo Siwoon’s protective umbrella, almost nothing exhausted Eunseong except liking him. After spending several months comfortably, the night shift was not as easy as he had anticipated. Moreover, he thought there were many difficult customers only in bars, but motels were even worse.

“No rooms? How many rooms do you have here that there are no rooms?”

“You need to book through the app. All reservations are full, so there are no vacant rooms now.”

“What app? Damn, so people like me who don’t know how to use a phone can’t even sleep? It’s already a hassle to order a hamburger, and now I can’t even sleep at a motel?! Because I don’t know how to use a phone?!”

A middle-aged man with dark circles under his eyes shouted angrily. His expression clearly showed the exhaustion of wanting to collapse and sleep anywhere, drunk.

Eunseong really wanted to give him a room if one was available. Among walk-in guests, there were some unfamiliar with app reservations. They were mostly older guests, and as the building was being remodeled to operate unmanned, the reservation system prioritized app bookings.

“There’s another motel across the street. Why don’t you try there?”

“I’m dying of fatigue, and you’re telling me to walk all the way there?! Damn it!”

Even though Eunseong gave detailed directions, the man ignored him. The middle-aged man continued to shout and cause a disturbance. He sat on the floor, driving away even incoming guests.

“Please don’t swear.”

Eunseong was also reaching his limit of patience. He frowned. His words weren’t coming out politely anymore.

“Damn, I feel like swearing and you’re telling me not to? Don’t even swear?!”

“I’m someone’s precious child too, you know? Don’t swear!”

“Damn, here you go. I swore! Damn! You wet-behind-the-ears kid!”

“Ah, I said don’t swear!”

Unable to endure the guest’s informal speech any longer, Eunseong fought back, also using informal language.

The man clicked his tongue in disbelief, saying, “What kind of bastard is this?” while shouting that he’d tear Eunseong apart, but true to the nature of such people, he only made a fuss with his mouth.

Eunseong finally called the police. It was already the second time today that the police had been dispatched. After encountering them several times a day, Eunseong had now become familiar with the police. He apologized to the arriving officer, handing him a cup of coffee. This was also a tip written in the manual given by Kim Dongjun.

“You haven’t been working here long, right? I don’t think I’ve seen you before. It seems like the staff here changes every day.”

The officer sipped his coffee and tried to make conversation.

“The guy who works during the day has been here for over a year, but I guess the night shift changes often because it’s tough. I just started the day before yesterday. I’m sorry for calling so often.”

“No need to apologize. This is our job. This area is a bit like that. Everyone’s stressed out.”

“I’ve done several part-time jobs, but this seems to be the toughest.”

“Are you a student? You look really young. How old are you?”

There was a sound from the device on his belt, possibly a radio call, but the officer turned it off and asked. He was leaning on the counter with his elbows, looking at Eunseong.

“Twenty.”

In a month, Eunseong would be twenty. Even though he was talking to a police officer, the lie came out naturally. He felt a slight pang, but barely even realized it was a lie. After answering, he became anxious that the officer might ask to see his ID.

The officer didn’t seem to have that intention, as he continued to sip his coffee and make small talk.

He seemed intrigued by Eunseong, who had no traces of hair dye or piercings that were common among his peers.

“Maybe they think you’re an easy target because you look young.”

“Officer Kim, it seems resolved here, so let’s go.”

An older-looking police officer looked around and came back, gesturing to him.

“Call right away if anything happens. Those troublemakers only get resolved when the police come anyway.”

Officer Kim crumpled his empty paper cup, threw it in the trash, and left.

After 3 AM, the street and motel became quiet as if there had never been any disturbance. Faint sounds of arguing from one of the rooms made Eunseong tense, but that quarrel soon subsided too.

Finally, Eunseong sat at the counter, nodding off. As he was seeing off guests leaving in the early morning and blinking his sleepy eyes, Kim Dongjun came for the shift change.

As much as there were big drawbacks, there were also big advantages, one being able to finish work in an instant. Eunseong changed shifts with Kim Dongjun and went to the staff dormitory at the end of the corridor, collapsing onto the bed and falling into a sleep no different from passing out. After sleeping frantically, he woke up around 1 PM and had breakfast at a nearby restaurant where the owner had set up regular payments.

Surprisingly, with his body so tired, Yoo Siwoon didn’t come to mind. If he missed anyone, it was Director Nam who would solve everything from A to Z if asked, not Yoo Siwoon. In the face of life’s hardships, emotions were ultimately a luxury, and Eunseong was gradually getting used to this daily life.

∞ ∞ ∞

The medical center building, which seemed to have closed long ago, was covered in randomly grown weeds and dust. Yoo Siwoon and Director Nam stood silently for a while in front of the abandoned building, standing alone with nothing around it.

Director Nam spoke first.

“Are you thinking the same thing as me?”

“What thought?”

“To my eyes, this doesn’t look like an abandoned building, but a workshop.”

“…”

Yoo Siwoon was thinking the same as Director Nam. The weeds grown so thick they covered the entrance and the rusty iron gate that looked like it wouldn’t move were actually shiny in certain areas, as if someone had been opening and closing it frequently.

If Yoo Siwoon had a barn, this medical center was someone else’s equivalent. It was related to someone in the family, and he was likely one of the breeders who daily consumed jeokdan, which could impregnate the prophesied being, and was probably Yoo Siwoon’s cousin.

“Let’s go in and take a look.”

Director Nam found and took out a flashlight from the car. It was daytime, but gray clouds gloomily covered the sky. The building’s interior, where light didn’t reach, was dark and difficult to discern the surroundings.

Director Nam led with the flashlight on, and Yoo Siwoon followed. Snowflakes fell from the desolate sky where only the sound of trampled weeds could be heard. They both looked up at the sky simultaneously. Seeing snow made Yoo Siwoon’s heart heavy. He was frustrated by Eunseong’s foolish action of leaving home in this cold winter, even though he had practically encouraged it himself.

Inside the building that was once a hospital, a stretcher with its cover torn off was rolling in the corridor. Dirty rags that were once patient gowns and towels were scattered about, and a nameplate that might have read “Administration Office” or “Treatment Room” with one side fallen off was swinging in the air.

“Maybe it’s just me, but it looks like there’s blood on the floor. Well, I suppose anything stained here would look like bloodstains.”

“…”

Director Nam’s flashlight illuminated the dirt floor. Round marks of dried wetness remained here and there. It wasn’t just imagination; they were browned bloodstains, but Yoo Siwoon didn’t bother to point that out.