Diamond Dust - 4

The escape plan was more thoroughly prepared than I had anticipated. Everything was arranged to avoid involving people we knew directly.

The vehicle that transported us to Seoul was a one-ton truck, almost ready to be scrapped, sourced by someone the surfing company boss knew. Once we arrived in Seoul, we were to park the truck at a pre-arranged location, where the truck’s owner, who followed us by express bus, would retrieve it.

After that, an investigator was introduced to us by my brother’s senior, who was his superior during their military service. We only stayed at a motel for the first two days, as we quickly signed a lease for a place through the investigator.

Before we left, we left a letter hinting that if they tried to find us before we contacted them, we would resist more strongly—even to the point of self-harm. However, we couldn’t ignore the high likelihood that they would inquire about us at Morea’s house.

To prepare for that, we needed to move carefully, erasing our tracks as much as possible with the help of the investigator.

The investigator, who was introduced as my brother’s senior’s hometown friend, didn’t look like someone who did that kind of work. Based on appearance alone, the surfing company boss looked more like a “private investigator.”

“Don’t touch the money in your account. We’ll take that money as is. We’ll handle it… just launder it a few times. I’ll give you cash equivalent to the deposit amount, so use cash only. I don’t need to tell you not to use credit cards, right? These days, even ordinary people know such basics from watching too many movies.”

Complaining that the job has become tougher recently due to clients who act like experts after watching a few movies, the investigator took out cash equivalent to the amount my brother and Morea had saved.

My brother had saved money for about a year between graduating high school and joining the army, and Morea had saved up allowance money from adults since she was little, so it was a considerable amount.

“Why? Does it look smaller when you see it in person? Should I give it to you all in 10,000 won bills to make you feel better?”

The investigator gave us a small smile, seeing us sitting stiffly with tension. Even though he wore a neatly pressed suit like a company employee and had well-groomed hair, at that moment, he still seemed like someone who worked in the underworld.

“Just kidding, just kidding. 50,000 won bills are easier to store.”

But without hiding the money in a deep drawer or under the flooring, it all went straight to securing a place to live.

It was a lot of money for us, but it was only enough to rent a semi-basement or a rooftop room in Seoul. Although both options were equally hot in summer and cold in winter, we agreed that the rooftop was better because it allowed us to see the sun.

The place was far from the subway station, and we had to climb a steep flight of stairs to reach the bus stop, but the investigator assured us that we could stay hidden for at least 1-2 years here.

A guarantee that this escape wouldn’t end in a pointless rebellion.

For now, that was enough.

Because we had no extra money, our small rooftop room was furnished with only a few essentials: a collapsible box for clothes, bedding, and a few necessary kitchen utensils. Morea appreciated that the room looked more spacious due to the minimal furniture.

It had already been about three weeks since we moved.

Perhaps the meticulous preparation paid off, as our daily routine was settling without any noticeable threats so far. Before a week had passed after we moved, I started working part-time at a moving company, and both Morea and my brother had already secured jobs.

‘What Happened in Bali.’

The café, located deep in a residential area instead of a bustling commercial district, lived up to its name, evoking a sense of freedom and relaxation like a beach in the tropics. The café owner, who had introduced us to the investigator, was my brother’s former superior. My brother worked as a cooking assistant, and Morea was responsible for the hall.

After finishing the evening shift, the owner would share leftover ingredients from the day, and my brother would practice cooking the café’s menu at home.

Since we moved in, it had become our routine to sit on the platform on the rooftop, which had been there since we moved in, and talk about our day while having a beer with the dishes my brother prepared.

We were still so young that “young” wasn’t enough to describe us, and things like the noise from the newlywed couple fighting like it was a war every day in the downstairs apartment, or the certainty that our rooftop room would turn into a steam oven in the height of summer, didn’t bother us.

Climbing those 62 stairs was tough, but the night view of Seoul from up here wasn’t so cold or arrogant. The lights in the distance looked like squid boats far out at sea, and it reminded me of *Starry Night Over the Rhone*.

A feeling of freedom as if being liberated from something, vague worries, a strange excitement in my chest, and a quiet unease as if I were being chased. These were the days when such emotions quietly swirled within me.

“So, who was that person?”

Morea asked with interest after hearing about my day.

“She’s my mom’s friend’s younger sister… She taught me drawing when I was little.”

When I mentioned that the person was connected to my parents, their faces showed a fleeting expression of unease before it quickly disappeared.

“But you met again like that? How strange. If you send that story to a radio show, you might win a gift certificate.”

Morea said, scooping the last bite of nasi goreng onto her spoon. Despite Morea’s attempt to lighten the mood, my brother’s expression was still slightly tense.

“She knew about my family situation from my aunt.”

“…Really?”

Only then did my brother relax his face and take a sip of his beer.

“She worked in Hong Kong until about four years ago and returned to Korea. Now she works at a private gallery.”

“A gallery? If she used to teach you drawing and now works at a gallery, I guess she’s been in the art world all along?”

After carefully chewing the last bite of nasi goreng, Morea swallowed her food before speaking.

“I guess so. She said she has about three exhibition schedules lined up, so she doesn’t have time to take care of her home. When I went to help with the move, her place was really a mess.”

I replied, lightly spinning the beer can, which was about a third full, in my hand. I drank a little more beer than usual today, so even though the breeze was pleasant, I could feel a slight warmth in my cheeks.

“Are you going to do it?”

Morea asked, hoping I would accept the teacher’s proposal.

“I’m not sure yet.”

“If seeing her face is too hard for you, you don’t have to do it.”

My brother’s concern was that it might stir up old wounds.

However, seeing the teacher’s face wasn’t difficult for me. In fact, the honest emotion that came to mind as soon as I recognized the teacher was happiness. The teacher’s face wasn’t associated with painful memories.

“Seo Ihyun is practically a master at organizing. The teacher didn’t know about your situation and wasn’t trying to be considerate; they just needed someone for the job and thought you were a good fit. If you’re worried about being a burden, don’t be. That would be more of an insult to them. Just do what feels right.”

After finishing her meal, Morea said that and took a refreshing sip of her beer.

“Yeah, I should.”

I responded like that, but figuring out where my heart was leading me wasn’t easy.

“Morea and I both have jobs, and money isn’t an immediate concern for now. Take your time and decide comfortably.”

“Okay.”

It seemed like Hyung was taking a more cautious approach than Morea. After all, people react to and handle wounds in different ways.

The next day, I had to be in Gwangjin-gu by 7 AM. It was time to wrap things up for the night, so I could get some sleep for tomorrow. I needed to fall asleep before the newlywed couple downstairs started their loud arguments.

When you open the flimsy front door that looks like it could be easily torn off with a few strong shakes (whether that’s actually true or not, it certainly seems that way), you enter a narrow kitchen space just big enough for two people to lie down side by side. Beyond the sliding doors on both sides is the room.

The private investigator who showed us the room on behalf of the landlord, who now lives somewhere in Jeolla-do after moving to the countryside, emphasized that it was a “semi-separated studio.”

Morea and Hyung laid out their bedding in the room, while I set mine up in the kitchen. They both strongly opposed the idea, asking if I was trying to make them feel bad for sleeping in the room while I slept in the kitchen. But I just wanted to protect that little bit of privacy for them.

Even though they didn’t act like a couple in front of me, I knew that their relationship wasn’t just about being comfortable around each other like friends.

“Ihyun, just sleep in the room with us. I’m cool with it, okay?”

Morea leaned against the frame of the open sliding door, watching me as I spread out my bedding in the kitchen. She repeated the same line as she had before.

I sat on the fresh, fluffy mat, hugging my pillow, and looked up at her with a slightly playful expression on purpose.

“Unnie.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m cool too. I’ll just sleep here.”

Morea chuckled, then smiled warmly at me with affectionate eyes. She then disappeared beyond the door with a goodnight greeting.

But we couldn’t keep living like this with just a door between us. It was fine now, in the warm season, but once autumn arrived, the cold air would seep in through the flimsy front door. I didn’t want them to keep feeling guilty and worried about me.

I knew their escape wasn’t just about eloping for love but also about fighting to live authentically. However, after gaining the hard-earned freedom to love freely, I didn’t want them to feel constrained by not being able to share even simple touches.

I had followed their suggestions this far, but from now on, I needed to make plans for my own life.

Lying down with my hands clasped behind my head, staring at the ceiling, I could hear Hyung and Morea quietly talking beyond the sliding door, where each square was filled with opaque glass, like pieces of a chocolate bar. I couldn’t make out their words, though.