Double Junk - 128

Ajin ate dinner and went to bed early. Flower Lady, lying on the opposite bed, seemed to have already fallen asleep from fatigue.

Ajin was also tired. He had received all sorts of warnings from the doctor, been discharged from the hospital, ridden in a car for the first time in his life, engaged in an unspoken battle of nerves with Flower Lady, and exhausted himself adjusting to the unfamiliar room.

Yet for some reason, he couldn’t fall asleep.

Ajin lay there staring blankly at the ceiling. He was dead tired, but couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t sleep. Then he realized the reason lay in the very place he was lying – the bed itself.

Having never slept on a bed his entire life, he wasn’t used to the fluffy, cloud-like sleeping surface.

Ajin turned to his left, then to his right. He pulled the blanket up to his neck, then down to his navel, tossing and turning restlessly. But no matter how much time passed, sleep would not come.

‘Boss.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why don’t you use a bed, Boss?’
‘Being of lowly birth, I can’t sleep on beds.’
‘But you’re living in a nice house like this now. How can you be of lowly birth?’
‘……’
‘It’s because you’re of noble birth.’
‘……’
‘No matter what kind of life you lived before, you’ve now found your rightful place.’

Unbidden, vulgar memories he should not recall came flooding back. Ajin grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Was it because he was at Seokju’s house? Seokju kept coming to mind. This was a room Ajin had never entered before, yet Seokju’s voice, coming from who knows where, kept emerging to torment him relentlessly.

Unable to bear it any longer, Ajin sprang up from the bed. The man who had been pacing the room, suppressing thoughts of Seokju, now said “To hell with it” and plopped down on the floor. He made a pillow by folding his arms, and drew his legs up. The warm floor heated by the amply stoked furnace felt pleasant.

As he quietly took it in, his body remarkably relaxed. Ajin smiled soundlessly. The floor was this comfortable. It seemed he was indeed of lowly birth by nature.

Ajin exhaled through his nose and closed his eyes. This time he felt he could finally fall asleep. He may not have good dreams, but he wanted to quickly end this arduous day.

Just as he was drifting into slumber…

Creak, creak……

A faint yet piercing sound stabbed Ajin’s eardrums. His previously calm heart started pounding wildly.

Creak, creak……

It was the sound of the wooden floor being stepped on. The footsteps of a robust man. But they weren’t Seokju’s. They were distinctly different from his – the stride was shorter, the pace quicker, and seemingly lighter than Seokju’s.

Yet Ajin’s fingers clenched. A chill gripped his chest and shoulders hunched.

Shackles weighed down his previously unfettered ankles. The heft made the tops of his feet tingle. The chains linked to the stakes seemed to stretch taut, as if someone were pulling his body backward.

Then, someone with a hot body temperature lay down behind Ajin’s back. Large hands enveloped his chest, and warm breath tickled his ear.

“Ajin-ah……”

A low voice called out from far away.

Ajin wanted to flee. He wished to fling himself through the moonlit paper window. But he couldn’t move a muscle. It was as if pinned by shears. No, that was precisely the case. Awake, Ajin was trapped in a nightmare.

His trembling body forced his eyes shut. He clapped stiff arms over his ears.

Still, the creaking footsteps, Seokju calling his name, never ceased.

“Huk……”

At last, a sob escaped Ajin’s lips.

He had tried to push his pain aside. Tried to ignore it for Flower Lady’s sake.

It didn’t seem that ignoring it would be so easy.

Ajin pushed a plate of well-marinated galbi in front of Flower Lady. But she didn’t even look at it. Watching her disinterest as he picked at his rice, Ajin let out a deep sigh.

The plate was piled high with meat side dishes, and the seaweed soup was so full of meat and tender seaweed that they came up with every spoonful. There was also firm grilled fish and well-seasoned vegetable banchan. It was a precious meal he may never get to have again in his life, yet he had no appetite.

His eyes puffy from staying up all night, Ajin set down his chopsticks and said, “Ajumma, are you not going to talk to me?”

“……”

“Will you keep hating me?”

Flower Lady didn’t reply. She was stubbornly keeping to herself. Ajin gave up on conversing with her without much regret.

“Fine, whatever. But I’ll still keep liking you, Ajumma.”

He broke into a big forced grin and started shoveling down the food. The rice got stuck in his throat and he could barely swallow it, but he kept forcing it down.

Ajin’s days were monotonous. He’d wake up, do a quick wash-up, and clean the already tidy room. Then he’d have breakfast with Flower Lady, make her take a fistful of medicine, and take his own medication.

After that, time became empty. Out of boredom and restlessness, he’d idly scribble in a notebook, then toss his pencil aside thinking it was pointless given his lot in life.

Some time later, the courtyard outside the paper door would grow noisy – it was time for the gang members to arrive for work. Seokju was probably among them.

Ajin would sit by the door holding his breath. When the cacophony of car engines died down, he’d get up, open the door to air out the room, sweep the wooden deck outside, brush off leaves on the stepping stones, then hurry back inside – lest anyone see him.

After that, Ajin never poked his head outside. It was to avoid even a glimpse of Seokju.

Still, sometimes late at night when he couldn’t sleep, he’d sneak out and sit on the deck. With the cold war between him and Flower Lady, and feeling caged despite coming of his own will, he craved the fresh night air for the first time.

So before and after midnight, he’d go out to the deck. Gazing at the now quiet courtyard with the gang having gone to bed, he’d space out until the chill drove him back inside.

Today was no different. He had tucked Flower Lady in and lay on the floor for a while before coming out. But there was a basket just sitting there on the deck.

Ajin cocked his head. It hadn’t been there during his brief cleaning trip outside earlier. Someone must have left it behind, he thought, peeking inside. But the contents seemed uncannily familiar.

Chocolates. Two cola bottles. Round plump Japanese apricots. Unidentifiable American snacks. The basket was piled with all sorts of treats.

“……….”

Ajin pressed his lips tight. This wasn’t a lost basket, it had been deliberately left there. And he didn’t need to think hard to know who had left it.

Ajin rushed back into the room like he was fleeing.

The basket remained on the deck all week long. Not because Ajin didn’t remove it, but because someone kept bringing a new one every day. The contents changed each time.

Yakgwa rice crackers. Canned peaches. Chocolates. Strawberries. Snacks. Candies. Twisted doughnuts. Kanggeng rice cakes. It had everything imaginable.

Staring at the piles of treats, the words “What the hell…” slipped out. Ajin didn’t lay a finger on the basket. He completely ignored the intent behind them.

Then one day, he had a big fight with Flower Lady.

That night, after giving Flower Lady her medicine and tucking her in, Ajin noticed she was sleeping more and more these days. She used to wake up early, but lately she wouldn’t even get up until the breakfast trays arrived, and she also started taking naps during the day.

It was worrying, but better than seeing her writhing in chest pain and gasping, so he just left her be.

Ajin tucked Flower Lady in, turned off the lights, and lay down on the bed himself. He then placed his hands under the pillow, pretending to sleep. His plan was to go down to the floor once Flower Lady fell into a deep slumber.

Time passed slowly. It was around midnight when Ajin lifted the blanket to get up.

“Let’s go. It’s not too late yet.”

Flower Lady’s raspy voice shattered the dim silence. Ajin shuddered. It had been so long since she last spoke, and this is what she said – those words again. Ajin sat up and turned his head towards Flower Lady hidden in the darkness.

“Not going.”

His low, muffled voice was short and firm. Though unseen, he could vividly imagine Flower Lady furrowing her brows in displeasure. Regardless, Ajin stubbornly persisted in his defiance.

“I like it here. I really do. There’s a bed, the floor is warm, and I get three square meals with meat side dishes.”

“What if you didn’t have all that? When have we ever lived enjoying such luxuries?”

At those words, Ajin squeezed his eyes shut tight. Every sentence, every word Flower Lady uttered grated on his nerves. Clenching his fists to swallow his irritation, he finally couldn’t hold back any longer and sprang up.

“So what! So we can’t enjoy a little comfort for once? Can’t we live a bit easier from now on?”

“Ajin.”

“Being of the lowly class, do we have to work our whole lives, sleep on floor mats? Are we undeserving of a meal made for us?”

“When did I ever say that? I’m saying we can survive without it just fine. That’s no reason to stay here.”

Flower Lady was unrelenting, not giving an inch. Ajin stumbled through the darkness towards her. Thanks to the moonlight filtering through the paper door, he could dimly make out her form. She was sitting on the bed, limbs hanging limp. The powerless posture was unbecoming of her.

Ajin looked at her with a trembling voice. “Ajumma. I was really hurt. Really sad and scared that I even cut my wrists. I wanted to die.”

“….”

“So wanting a little compensation, wanting to take advantage of the Master’s money a bit – what’s so wrong with that?”

At those words, Flower Lady whipped her head around to look up at Ajin.

“Does taking the Master’s money feel good?”

“…What?”