Eunseo bowed his head, his shoulders shaking. It looked like he was holding back some emotion, though thankfully there was no sob in his voice. Seunghu, gazing down at him, tapped his head lightly.
***
The funeral passed in a blur. Eunseo hadn’t sent out a separate death notice, but it seemed the school had sent a group message. Whether Seunghu had passed the word to people he knew, more mourners came and went than expected.
Even though his father hadn’t had any social life at all for years, a few visitors from his father’s side stopped by— high school classmates, people he’d worked with at his old company. It was a wonder how they’d even heard.
But there were only so many people who’d come, so past ten at night the funeral hall went quiet. Only a few people from the same lab, led by Seunghu, remained, settled around a single table. Thanks to them, Eunseo didn’t have to keep watch in front of the altar himself, which eased his mind.
“You must be tired.”
“What would I be tired from.”
“And taking all the condolence money for me….”
After paying the bill last night, Seunghu had gone home just long enough to change clothes, then come back and kept watch here from dawn until now. He was grateful both that Seunghu had stayed the whole day, sleepless in his suit, and that he’d taken the condolence money on his behalf when Eunseo had no family who could help— and knowing how busy and on edge a doctoral student on the verge of his paper presentation must be, Eunseo felt all the more at a loss for what to do with himself in front of Seunghu.
“You think I can’t do even that much for you?”
In his usual matter-of-fact tone, Seunghu smoothed Eunseo’s rumpled hair with a few strokes of his hand. The hair that had been fluttering lightly settled softly, and Eunseo slowly blinked his eyes open and shut, over and over. He couldn’t know the reason for the kindness Seunghu showed him, but he could feel clearly enough that it was sincere.
“You don’t drink, do you?”
“…No— shall I pour you some more?”
“Nah.”
Saying the funeral hall shouldn’t be too quiet, Eunseo fussed needlessly, having nothing more to offer the people keeping watch. He’d already brought out fruit and rice cakes, and set out liquor and drinks until they were sick of them. Grabbing the wrist of Eunseo, who kept kneeling then half-rising, Seunghu plopped him down into a seat.
“You’re making me dizzy. Just sit.”
“But….”
“No buts.”
“I’ll at least go buy some snacks.”
“I said it’s fine.”
Despite Seunghu’s objections, Eunseo got up, took his wallet, and stepped out of the funeral hall for a bit. Truthfully, he hadn’t left this place once since last night, and the urge to breathe some cold air was even stronger.
Going down to the first floor, he stepped outside before heading to the shop and took a deep breath. The autumn night’s chill was more than his spring-weight suit could block, but it felt good, like the incense smell soaked into him all day was lifting a little.
“Hah….”
After forcing out every last bit of air filling his lungs and stretching a little, Eunseo went back inside. He stopped at the first-floor shop and bought a few snacks and enough ice cream to go around. As he quietly climbed the stairs, laughter burst out of the funeral hall right ahead of him. Startled, he stepped back a few paces, then quickly walked to the end of the corridor, where lowered voices drifted from inside his father’s altar room.
“But Eunseo… he’s acting like it’s nothing.”
“Yeah. He didn’t even cry, so I was a little… surprised.”
“His father died, though.”
“I didn’t even know his father was sick.”
“Who would’ve known.”
Standing in the entrance listening for a moment, Eunseo wiped at his bone-dry eyes. Just as they’d said, he hadn’t cried once since the moment of his father’s death. No tears, no choked sobs— he didn’t even seem particularly shaken by it.
“There’s probably something we don’t know.”
“Still….”
Wondering whether to stay outside a little longer, Eunseo turned— and came face to face with Seunghu, his expression frighteningly hard, and flinched back. The moment Seunghu, muttering “fuck” under his breath, started toward them, Eunseo grabbed his arm.
“Those bastards….”
“Sunbae.”
“You’re just going to stand there and listen to that?”
“It’s true, though. They didn’t say anything harsh.”
“…Eunseo.”
“Please don’t. It’s not worth it, not over me….”
Eunseo pleaded with Seunghu to stop. He didn’t want Seunghu making enemies of the others because of someone like him. To anyone watching, it would look deeply strange and invite questions.
“…Go send them off. No good will come of staying any longer.”
“You should head home too, sunbae. It’s almost eleven already.”
“I have to come back tomorrow morning anyway.”
“No, you… you don’t have to come. The funeral hall can help with carrying the coffin.”
“Shin Eunseo.”
For a long while, all that could be heard was the rustling of the black plastic bag. Eunseo thought he might not be able to hold on much longer. Pain pressed in from all over, as if the body he’d been holding up with such composure might crumble at any moment.
“…Please, sunbae.”
Eunseo pleaded once more. He’d rather be alone. He needed time to sink into solitude and sort through all of this. In one corner of the left side of his head it felt as if someone were driving in a nail, a pounding echo ringing through him as pain flared.
After gazing down at Eunseo for a long moment, Seunghu nodded as if he understood, then led the way inside and roused the others one by one.
“Hey, everyone up. Let’s call it a night. Staying this late is a bother too.”
“Huh? Eunseo’s not back yet.”
“We’ll say bye when he comes. Get your jackets on—”
Eunseo, who’d been standing outside a moment, took a deep breath and stepped inside. His face, barely holding a mask of composure, was pale— but not quite unbearable to look at.
“Oh, you’re leaving?”
“Yeah, yeah…. It’s gotten so late.”
“Thank you so much for coming.”
Before anyone could say they’d stay longer, Eunseo thanked them with firm finality. Seunghu, with one slightly drunk grad student slung over his shoulder, looked at the crown of Eunseo’s bowed head for a moment, then started off first.
“Get home safe.”
“…Are you really going to be okay?”
Amid everyone busy putting on shoes and gathering their things, Seunghu asked once more, and Eunseo only nodded. He really was okay. Being alone would be a little frightening, but at least his father would never hit him again, never again curse at him asking why he was born, why he hadn’t died. Stroking his left cheek where the wound still remained, Eunseo saw the departing guests off.
“I’ll come tomorrow morning.”
“…I’ll be in touch.”
Once even Seunghu, the last to leave, was gone, only true silence remained. Eunseo slipped off the shoes he’d been wearing with the backs crushed down, went inside, and slowly looked around. Then he brought a large metal tray and cleared the table where the grad students had sat until the very end. He opened the black bag he’d tossed carelessly on the floor and put just the ice cream in the freezer. Luckily the night was cold, so it hadn’t melted much.
Seeing the incense at the altar had nearly burned down, he lit three new sticks and set them in place, and then there was nothing left to do. Standing there quietly, Eunseo gazed for a moment at his father’s portrait photo, its quality poor.
It seemed his father hadn’t had a single photo taken since his mother died. Told they needed a portrait photo, Eunseo had found only one family photo taken more than twenty years ago, and with no other choice, he’d cut out just his father’s face and composited it. Because of that, every mourner who saw the photo started in surprise. The father in the photo must have been about thirty.
“Why…”
Why had he done it? When he was a little younger than now, he’d cried, asking why on earth his father treated him that way, why he was so cruel to him. His mother’s death had left a scar on Eunseo that would never heal. He’d asked why — when two people bearing curse-like scars couldn’t even comfort each other, why did it have to be like this — but the only answer to that blood-boiling question was even more painful violence.
His father, who had loved his mother so much, who had gone through so much to bring him into the world, only to hate him — as if the fruit of all that effort had hurt his mother once more… the father who had destroyed himself utterly and died.
No matter how much he thought about it, Eunseo felt he would never understand him.
And on the other hand, he was afraid. Afraid he’d end up following the same track he’d seen and learned; afraid that one day he too would abandon a child he loved desperately, branding himself the demon who’d ruined him. Sinking down where he stood, shaking his head, Eunseo vowed again and again that he must never let that happen. But it wasn’t easy.
The feelings that had already taken root showed no sign of fading.
He hated himself for being unable to resent or hate his father, even now. Eunseo likened his relationship with his father to a one-sided love that could never be requited. Himself, floundering since childhood in a love that was never going to be returned. He’d painted dreams of an absolute, eternal love, but it was a fantasy with no substance. It would likely never come again in this lifetime. He’d been a seed of misfortune since the day he was born — who could ever love him?
Eunseo pressed his palms together over his nose and mouth and breathed deliberately for a long while. It felt as though, if he didn’t, he’d forget how to breathe at any moment. Against his closed eyelids, Han Jaeheon surfaced — seething with anger, not even trying to hide it — then faded away.
Why on earth had Han Jaeheon been so angry? He didn’t even think of Eunseo as someone he could like — and Eunseo felt ashamed of himself for even thinking of asking him whether he liked him. Eunseo spread his palms and covered his entire face.
It’ll be fine. Graduation isn’t far off anyway. He did like him — somehow he’d ended up liking that bullheaded Han Jaeheon — but he told himself that once he was out of sight and out of reach, he’d be able to forget him well enough. Though he wasn’t confident. Not at all.
Sitting there dazed, Eunseo stared only at the faint fluorescent light on the ceiling. How many times had it flickered out and lit up again — and then the tap-tap of dress shoes echoed down the hallway. The footsteps he’d assumed would naturally turn into the dining hall kept coming closer, and for a moment Eunseo was frightened.
And then — tap. The sound stopped. Still kneeling in the posture he’d held while placing incense at the altar, Eunseo slowly turned his head. In the dim hallway a human figure was visible, though only its outline could be made out. Was Jin Seunghu back? Eunseo wondered dazedly, staring at the long legs — then the figure took a couple more steps, a face emerged, and Eunseo caught his breath.
It was Han Jaeheon.
Leave a Reply