CH 5

“Come again!”

‘I didn’t realize it when my bushy hair covered my nape, but when I left the hair salon, the wind was cold against my nape.’

Kim awkwardly fiddled with his short bangs that fell over his forehead.

After persistent persuasion from staff, Kim agreed to a short, sensible cut. The staff member’s insistence on cutting his hair was annoying, but the convincing argument that it would intimidate teachers and friends at school was decisive.

Song was having trouble with his friendship and I couldn’t ruin it. For 47-year-old Kim Deuk-pal, the priesthood was a protection in untouchable territory.

Awkwardly brushing a stray hair strand through his fingers, his next stop was a bookstore. A dry heater stung his scalp as he rode the elevator to the basement bookstore. It was early in the year, so the shelves were lined with colorful diaries. The problem books he wanted were prominently displayed in anticipation of the new school year.

Vinyl-covered exercise books glistened in fluorescent light. Kim Deuk-pal’s eyes were serious as he chose a book.

Unfortunately, the problem book given to him by a woman who seemed to be a butler was far beyond his level…. The tutoring scene was too enthusiastic for a late GED candidate to follow. Song Yi-heon, who grew up in the tutoring scene, was quite talented at studying.

Kim’s spine tingled as he flipped through Song’s workbook. It was full of red circles.

‘He’s a good student…….

If he returned back to school now, he would have to take mock exams and midterms. When Song Yi-heon’s spirit returned, he couldn’t give him a report card that ranked last in the whole school.

He still has a conscience, no matter how much Kim Deuk-pal scolds him. In order to avoid being at the bottom of the class, he looked at the problem book with the idea of studying at a level that suits him. If he starts with the basics and works his way up, he can get an average grade of 7…….

“If this is your first time, try this one.”

“Ah, Mr.!”

The hand that came into view offered the question book, and Kim Deuk-pal swung his arm in surprise. His right fist landed squarely in the center of the question book his opponent held as a shield. This knocked him back a couple of steps.

“Whoa.”

The exclamation came from across the room. Realizing he had hit an innocent person, Kim Deuk-pal shrugged it off.

“Uh… are you okay?”

The workbook that covered his face slowly slipped from his hands, perhaps because his question sounded like a safe word that he would no longer hit. Black bangs covering his forehead and wide open eyes were revealed one after another. The eyes facing him looked through his face and looked disappointed. However, it was so short that Kim Deuk-pal did not ask because he mistook the person.

The man pretended to never have been disappointed and said, looking back and forth at the workbook.

“Oh… I need to buy this.”

The workbook was crushed around the center where Kim Deuk-pal’s fist marks were made. The power of his fist may be fierce, but he opened the workbook to see the contents.

“Sorry. You’re surprised

Then his mouth raised the corners of his ear to look at Kim Deuk-pal, who was still on the offensive. There was a strong impression that his black hair was soft and gentle on him. Adding to the intellectual image of the man were ivory knitwear and brown coats with weave.

He lowered his eye level by tilting his head to see if his affinity was unusual, and closed his eyes and laughed.

“If it’s your first time learning, solve this first. It will be difficult to solve because there are few concepts and many problems.”

Is he a student? Kim Deuk-pal, who was wary of a sudden approach, put his shoulders side-by-side with the man without loosening his eyes. The man skillfully recommended all the workbooks as if he had solved them. His workbook was half conceptual explanation and half basic questions, so Kim Deuk-pal pushed it far away.

“If you’re paying me to do this, you should have many problems to solve.”

Kim Duk-pal grumbled, but the man was gentle. His voice was soft as he soothed the complaint.

“Well, you’re liable to get things wrong, okay? You’re not expecting to get much of a sense of accomplishment, so you’re not inclined to be motivated. I suggest you finish this one quickly, and then try the next one that has only problems. If you just want to solve problems, I recommend this one.”

“Do I get less wrong if I solve this one and then this one?”

“Usually.”

I didn’t admit it, but I was demotivated by getting so many questions wrong. The man in front of me was the first person to point out my skepticism that I would get it wrong anyway. This guy is the real deal. He’s studied a bit.

Kim Duk-pal’s eyes flashed as he looked at the man who suddenly interrupted him.

“Do you have a moment?”

***     

“Can I put it in an envelope?”

“Yes.”

Kim Deuk-pal handed the card to the bookstore clerk. In his diary, he wrote,

“I thought he was buying a house because he cried about the butler and the chairman.”

But he hadn’t been sanctioned for swiping the credit card from the butler’s shoulder bag.

The bookstore clerk handed him a card and a receipt, and then handed him a shopping bag with problem books. He took the man’s advice and bought only two or three books on each subject. However, when he added Korean, English, and Satam, the shopping bag was quite heavy.

It was the kind of weight that Kim Deuk-pal would have carried on his wrist, but not the kind of weight that Song Yi-heon, with his broken ribs, could handle. He leaned toward his right arm, which carried the shopping bag, and a dull pain spread through his chest. Still, he was not one to show his difficulties, so he put the heavy shopping bag on the ringer handle. He walked slowly, and the man who paid for the essay book approached him.

They rode the same elevator out onto the street as if they had an appointment. As they waited for the light to turn red, Kim scratched his head, hesitated, and nudged the man with his elbow.

“Get a drink. I’ll buy you one.”

He gestured to the cafe with his chin, feeling sorry for letting him go. This was after all the trouble he’d put into choosing a problem book in the first place. The man acted like he didn’t know who he was when he picked out the problem book. However, when he finally agreed to take him to the cafe, he looked at Song Yi-heon in confusion.

He stared at the tip of Song Yi-heon’s nose, which was cut short to protect it from the wind, and at his injured body, which wandered around. He fixed his gaze for a while under his tired eyes.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He nodded.

The franchise cafe near the traffic light at the intersection was bustling with customers. The only places he’d ever seen this crowded were bars and the police station where he’d been taken after a fight.

“Choose everything you want to eat and pay for it.”

Not wanting to eat much myself, Kim gave the man his card and walked to his table. It wasn’t like an uncle bought something for his nephew. When young Song Yi-heon tapped the card and left, the man left behind stared at the golden card in his hand in disbelief.

‘I overestimated Song Yi-heon’s stamina, so I passed it around, and it ran out of gin and fell on the table.’

His cheeks flushed from the cold wind as he stepped into the room’s warmth. When a man sat down across from her, she reluctantly stood up and wiped her pale face.

After taking my order and drink, he slid his card across the to-go glass.

He wasn’t planning to drink it, but the sincerity of his gesture made him want to make a show of taking it. However, as he drank the sugary drink through the straw, the sugar spiked and his eyes widened.

“What is this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

Hot chocolate, a conglomeration of sugars, was the first world to Kim Duk-pal, whose childhood sweetness was limited to nougat used to boil corn. He gripped the cup with both hands and sucked on the straw combatively to avoid gagging.

“Isn’t it hot?”

“What’s hot when you’re old enough to chew rebar?”

Meanwhile, the man lifted the cup lid and sipped his latte. He inhaled the hot chocolate, and Song Yi-heon covered his mouth with his glass in amusement. The corner of his pink mouth peeked over the cup rim and he asked.

“Middle school students?”

Forty-seven, an asshole. Kim Deuk-pal muttered under his breath and said Song Yi-heon’s age.

“Nineteen.”

The man’s composure finally broke as he smiled. He put down his glass and stroked his chin uncontrollably.

“Ah, so we’re the same age. I’m nineteen.”

His eyes flickered with anxiety, and then he faltered.

“What the hell? I thought you were in middle school and recommended you at third grade.”

“Uh, you got it right. Thanks.”

The most positive thing about getting older is that I’ve lost the bravado. When the boss of the organization looked at his SAT scores and laughed for a long time, there was no shame, no envy or jealousy towards the younger guy. Instead, there was a mindset of,

‘I’m old, so I need you to help me. I asked.’

“How do kids study these days?”

“…kids these days?”

Kim Deuk-pal nodded enthusiastically, not knowing the way he asked back was ridiculous. For a moment he was dumbfounded, and the man struck the beat with his eyes shining as if he had found something interesting.

“Well, study hard with textbooks.”

“Do you still do that?”

“It’s a rapidly changing era, but the basics don’t change easily.”

Sounds pretty plausible, Kim Deuk-pal nodded. The man added, looking neat and suitable for educational broadcasting.

“If you focus on the national exam, you can do everything.”

“This is…”

Kim Duk-pal’s eyes widened as he realized the man was teasing him. He lightly kicked the shameless drinker under the table and sucked on the straw without hesitation. When he was done and got some air, he quickly gathered his things.

“Let’s get up.”

“I’m staying.”

He tilted his cup to show him. Unlike Kim Deuk-pal, who finished his hot chocolate with a few inhales through a straw, the man’s drink was half empty. The man sat back and tapped his fingernails, pretending to drink to ensure he wasn’t in a hurry. He glanced at Kim, whose light brown hair stood out in the sunlight across from him.

“What are you looking at?”

The man who hadn’t expected to be spotted asked, keeping his head down.

“I thought I recognized you.”

“Me?”

“I must have mistaken you for someone with a similar build. You’re nothing like him. Especially in personality and speech.”

He nervously wondered if he knew Song Yi-heon, but he denied it. If he did, he would have recognized him. Kim Deuk-pal stretched out in his chair in relief, not realizing that Song Yi-heon was so different that even a machine could recognize him as a different person if he covered his face with bangs.