Chapter 24

Word was that Rin’s jewels had fetched high prices in large quantities at the last auction. Thanks to that windfall, they had secured a generous stash of rice, and with two eggs and salt folded in to stretch the volume with water, white froth bubbled vigorously to the surface. Geum Seoul stirred and scraped the bottom with a plastic ladle lest a single precious grain spill over, while Rin, sitting a comfortable distance away, rested his chin in his hand and lazily fluttered a fan.

“Still, it only takes a few days to get used to the quiet once all those scumbags cleared out,” Rin remarked.

Geum Seoul knew that the ‘few days’ Rin mentioned was exactly five. It had been five days since those men pulled out. Just as he had anticipated that night, the black sedan that dropped him off had not been seen since. Naturally so; what conceivable reason would they ever have to return here?

“They were scary folks, after all. The aura around them, too…”

Adding to his remark, Rin knitted his brows slightly toward the heat waves radiating from the butane burner. Squatting right in front of it, Geum Seoul ladled the porridge into containers and gave another soft, monosyllabic hum of agreement.

In truth, Geum Seoul did not remember those men badly. There had been moments frightening enough to chill his spine, but they were police officers, not street thugs. And the man everyone called Deputy Director—terrifying though he was—had been breathtakingly handsome. More importantly, he had never once raised a hand against Seoul.

—‘Did you get so wet back there because you liked my pheromones?’

Hiss.

“Ah, hot…” Seoul flinched, pulling back his fingers.

The sudden, searing memory made his thumb slip closer along the neck of the ladle, plunging it into the rising plume of steam. It was not a direct scald, allowing him to pull his hand back quickly. Throwing a casual glance his way, Rin tilted his head back and stretched both legs straight out. The fluttering fan shifted its breeze away from his face and down toward his bare thighs.

“Still, that guy was seriously gorgeous… Why didn’t he come buy my jewels himself? I thought for sure he would.”

“Who knows…” Seoul murmured, staring into the pot.

As the highest-graded jewel in this precinct, Rin was exceptionally pretty, which drew a steady stream of suitors from all corners. On occasion, men from the neighboring district would hike all the way up just to catch a glimpse of Rin’s face and linger around the perimeter, and predatory characters had put him through perilous ordeals more than once.

“Whew. Now that those broadcasts aren’t blaring, I finally feel like I can breathe.”

The most dramatic change over the past five days was undeniably the eerie stillness settled over the neighborhood. Since that day, the loudspeakers that relentlessly blasted spine-chilling acoustic interference had fallen completely silent. While they had occasionally flickered off for a day or two, this was the first time the silence had endured for so long, prompting the residents to forget the sweltering heat and rejoice that life was finally bearable.

Rin fanned his neck. “Ah, tomorrow’s the day the goods arrive, right? You going, Seoul?”

Seoul replied with a nod, “Yeah. I should go see.”

“To buy newspapers again? Who on earth reads that stuff these days?” Rin teased.

Seoul murmured softly, “Just because. It’s interesting. And I need medicine too…”

“Ah.”

Rin’s expression softened with quiet pity as he looked at the younger boy, knowing full well the grueling burden of their life. Rising to his feet with a yawn, Rin said, “All right. I’m going up to sleep now. Hang in there, Seoul-ah.”

“I’ll put these in the fridge,” Seoul said, gathering the containers.

Rin smiled over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Even with midnight long past, the oppressive heat refused to break. With the rhythmic flutter of his fan trailing behind him, Rin vanished into the building, leaving Geum Seoul dripping with sweat as he portioned the porridge into small plastic tubs. Since Rin had contributed nearly all the eggs, only a single tub belonged to Seoul; the remainder was entirely Rin’s.

Avoiding the egg as much as possible, he scooped out a single ladle composed almost entirely of watery rice. His modest portion barely amounted to a fistful. He divided that tiny amount again to make two portions. After a moment’s hesitation, he delicately scooped up a loose clump of scrambled yellow yolk clinging to the edge of the pot and deposited it into one of the two tubs.

He murmured to himself, “Let’s wash up quick and sleep…”

Wiping his forehead, he exhaled into the damp air. Tomorrow was the day Uncle Jang arrived with supplies. Every so often, the man hauled essential goods, including pharmaceuticals, up from down below to sell to the locals; he was also Seoul’s sole avenue for acquiring pheromone suppressants and adhesive. That was the only reason Seoul prioritized his errands above all others, despite Uncle Jang being an incorrigible miser who consistently paid only half the going wage for any chore.

Adhesive was consumed at an alarming rate during the summer months. The silicone pads attached to his nose and abdomen slipped easily against slick sweat, compelling him to resort to increasingly potent formulas. Consequently, he found himself requesting various unusual items, yet the old man was remarkably devoid of curiosity. Even when Seoul occasionally needed to procure a fresh makeup kit, Uncle Jang simply gouged the price without ever asking why he needed it or what purpose it served.

“How much money do I have left…”

Snapping the lids firmly shut one by one, he finished wiping down the makeshift kitchen and stacked the food inside the refrigerator. The compact unit was ancient, exhaling only a faint, sluggish trace of cool air, yet in this wasteland, it was an immensely precious appliance.

The contents of the fridge were almost exclusively Rin’s provisions. Clients arriving to purchase gems occasionally gifted him treats, and the locals regularly bestowed small offerings upon him. Squeezing his tubs into a corner that barely had room, Seoul rolled up his sleeves to wash and dry the pot, draped a rough towel around his neck, and stepped onto the stairs leading up to the second floor.

Two or three overlapping snores rumbled faintly along the dark corridor. Muffling his footsteps to an absolute whisper, Seoul cracked open a faded red door and poked his head inside.

Peering into the dark room, Seoul called out quietly, “…Gang-ah. Are you asleep?”

Creeeak.

The boy whom the boss had purchased from a client during the previous auction was nicknamed Gang because he was classified as a red jewel. Rumored to hold a grade comparable to Rin’s, he was an investment Park Gil-pyeong had acquired with grand ambitions after pocketing a handsome sum of cash.

Dead silence answered him. “……”

Seoul crouched quietly outside the door. Faint though it was, the slow, rhythmic breathing within suggested the boy had drifted off to sleep. He rarely ventured outside his room. Reaching into his shirt, Geum Seoul withdrew one of the small tubs—the sole reason he had split his meager share in half.

With such a high grade, once the boy began selling his jewels, he would undoubtedly earn far more money and be able to eat food like this whenever he pleased, yet Seoul still wanted to offer it. Adapting to this place in a mere five days was a cruel trial.

Slide.

The tub bearing the morsel of egg yolk had been intended for Gang all along. Sliding it smoothly through the narrow gap beneath the door, Seoul pulled the door shut and rose onto his toes. Slipping into his own room just long enough to grab a change of clothes, he emerged back into the hall. It was time to wash.

“……” Listening carefully at the shower door, Seoul heard only silence.

Before slipping into the communal shower tucked in the far corner, he held his breath out of sheer habit, straining his ears for any sign of life. While Park Gil-pyeong rarely showed his face during the sweltering heat of midsummer, he occasionally stormed in after sunset. Even so, the man had never once arrived at such an ungodly hour of the night, so after waiting for roughly a minute, Seoul tiptoed inside.

Seoul whispered in relief, “Phew. It’s so hot…”

Perhaps from standing over the open flame for so long, his cheeks radiated feverish heat. Ordinarily, he would have peeled away only the heavy fake flesh strapped across his body before taking a quick rinse, but tonight he had to strip off the facial prosthetics as well. Sweat had loosened their grip, leaving them precariously sliding out of place for hours. It was wiser to wash thoroughly now and reapply fresh adhesive once he retreated safely to his room.

Folding his clothes neatly, he placed them onto a shelf in the corner. As he peeled the sticky mass of silicone pads from his torso, sweat that had pooled and curdled with the adhesive dripped onto the floor in heavy beads.

The shower room was no larger than a tiny closet, completely devoid of mirrors. A handful of faucets were mounted haphazardly along the wall, though several were broken and produced not a single drop.

Squeak. Creeeak.

Seoul wrenched the circular faucet handle. Stiff and resistant, it yielded only after he leaned into it with both hands, squeaking past its groove to disgorge a steady stream. Only cold water ran from the pipes, but having baked in the sun all day, it was comfortably lukewarm against his skin.

The irritated, inflamed skin stung under the initial splash. Rubbing the sliver of soap vigorously between his palms, he worked up a thin lather. As he washed from his hair down across his entire body, the water stripped away his residual heat, causing his shoulders to shudder slightly despite the mild temperature. Seoul scrubbed briskly to rinse off the suds. Next, he used his thumb to clean the underside of the prosthetic bridge that had rested over his nose. The crooked retainer clipped directly over his teeth, meaning a scrub with toothpaste was all it needed before going back in, but the other pieces required fresh glue and were placed carefully atop his folded clothes.

“Huh?”

A sudden tilt of his head broke his focus. A fleeting memory flashed across his mind.

‘Wait, is there anywhere to wash?’

That morning—the dawn Lee Hee-joong had slipped into the boss’s office—he had stopped by the shower room. After what Park Gil-pyeong had done to him, wanting to wash the filth from his body was only natural. Because Hee-joong had remained there for only a few minutes, however, Seoul had forgotten the detail completely until this very moment. Flustered, he looked around as if there might somehow be a way to tell them now. Of course there wasn’t. Besides, hadn’t they probably found Lee Hee-joong already? Remembering it this late made the realization almost useless. Ah. And that man had asked me so many times if anything had happened…

“Ah! How could I have been stupid enough to forget that?” Seoul muttered in self-reproach.

Squeak—scrape.

A shower was not a luxury to be indulged in for long. Turning the faucet off, Geum Seoul patted himself dry with his towel. His skin, having wrestled with suffocating layers of fabric and sweltering heat all day, finally felt cool and refreshed, yet the moment he finished drying off, he hastily jammed his head through the collar of a clean T-shirt. Damp strands of hair soaked dark rings into the fabric.

Toweling his damp hair, he let out a long breath. “Phew…”

A breath of relief slipped past his lips. Having pulled on his underwear and shorts, Geum Seoul gathered the discarded bundle of disguise gear into his arms and stepped softly out of the shower room. Droplets still dripped from his wet fringe and chin, but he intended to dry off properly once he made it back to his room.

Pitter. Patter.

His bare feet padded silently along the corridor. The cool draft slipping through the single layer of light clothing—a comfort permitted only in this brief window—felt wonderfully refreshing. Tiptoeing with bated breath toward his room, Geum Seoul closed his hand around the doorknob under the stairs.

A slurred voice called out from the dark. “Seoul-ah?”

Snap.

His slight shoulders jerked violently in terror. Whipping his head around, Geum Seoul met a horribly familiar face, accompanied by the sour stench of stale alcohol.

“Seoul-aaah!” the drunk bellowed again.

Park Gil-pyeong shoved his greasy face forward with a leering grin. Those oily, bloodshot eyes swept over Seoul’s exposed forehead, his clear eyes, his delicate nose, his slender bare arms, and the bundle clutched against his chest.

……His face.

Before Seoul could even emit a startled gasp, the tangled heap of clothes and prosthetics clutched in his arms spilled clattering to the floor.