Double Junk - 26

Chapter 26

As Ajin diligently set up the drinking table, he couldn’t help but feel that something was peculiar. He wasn’t the only one who felt this way. Whenever the gang members gathered in groups of two or more, they would cluck their tongues disapprovingly.

“Every time they call each other family, but no one seems sad.”

“That’s right. He didn’t die peacefully but was stabbed to death.”

“If it were me, I would have felt sorrowful and unjust. Friends with whom I used to have a good time would come to the funeral, drink, and laugh…”

“They must not have learned manners; they are so impolite.”

Ajin, squatting and tidying up the bottles of alcohol, pursed his lips. Our boss. He wasn’t such an impolite person. It’s just… the way they conduct funerals is a bit unusual.

Ajin didn’t like the way the gang members spoke, but he refrained from saying anything. If he had picked a fight with the female gang members, they would probably curse at him, but with the male gang members, there was a good chance that fists or feet might fly, and he could end up being dragged behind that tree.

It happened while Ajin was clearing away the bottles. Someone called him from a distance.

“Ajin.”

Ajin swiftly turned his head. A lady with an apron stained with oil was standing halfway through the kitchen door, beckoning to him.

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

She gestured to Ajin. With a groan, Ajin got up after arranging the last bottle. Then, he wobbled towards the Ajumma. As he approached the kitchen, the Ajumma grabbed Ajin’s wrist and swiftly pulled him in. Caught in her strong, calloused hand, Ajin stumbled along.

The Ajumma sat Ajin down beside the cement hearth and handed him a plate and chopsticks.

“Wow…”

Ajin raised his eyebrows. The plate was piled high with tofu pancakes, pollack pancakes, kimchi pancakes, meat pancakes, and zucchini pancakes. Ajin picked up the chopsticks with excitement. These were rare pancakes. Back at the gambling den, he never had the chance to cook or even see such things.

“Ajumma, thank you.”

“…”

The Ajumma didn’t answer, just sat in front of the overturned pot lid. Then, generously spreading cooking oil and flipping the kimchi pancake batter with a ladle, sizzling sounds filled the air. The aroma of the hot oil made Ajin’s grin widen.

It feels like a real feast. Although it’s technically a funeral, everyone’s laughing and talking, so what’s the harm, he thought.

Ajin picked up the plate and sat down next to the Ajumma, settling in beside her. The Ajumma grumbled and waved her arm.

“Why are you acting so awkward? Go and eat over there.”

“I don’t want to.”

With a mischievous smile, Ajin tore into the tofu pancake. It tasted of oil, but the intense heat made his tongue dance.

“Ah, hot!”

“Hey, slow down. Eat slowly.”

Ajin nodded, his head bobbing as he struggled to chew. He couldn’t spit out something so precious. Ajumma then put a handful of sliced cabbage kimchi on Ajin’s plate, and he chuckled before putting it in his mouth. The warm feeling in his mouth subsided.

Ajin chatted aimlessly with the Ajumma, occasionally feeding her some pancakes with his chopsticks. As their bellies warmed and the plate emptied, Ajin suddenly called out to the Ajumma.

“Ajumma.”

“What is it?”

“Somebody died, but why doesn’t anyone seem to be sad?”

At his words, the Ajumma, who had been busy working, stopped abruptly. Ajin stared at her intently. She seemed to know the answer, having known everything.

Ajin had no connection with the deceased. Their faces were blurred in his memory. Yet, he felt strangely melancholic, while the other members of the group were laughing and frolicking together like they had gone mad. There must be a reason for it, surely.

“Hosang becomes what we believe.”

As Ajin held up a round, crispy kimchi pancake on Ajumma’s plate, she replied.

“Really?”

“If you think he died unjustly, meaninglessly, or painfully, and cry that it’s unfair and mournful, then the soul won’t depart. It’s tormented by the injustice and anger.”

“…”

“If you send them off with happiness, they’ll go to a good place.”

“…”

“Holding onto a grudge and vengefully keeping it inside prevents the soul from going to a good place. Revenge doesn’t come too late even after you’ve bid the deceased a good farewell. Gangsters know this, so they laugh like that.”

Ajin’s chopsticks scraped the edge of the plate without much meaning. He didn’t quite understand, but he had a vague sense that maybe laughter brought blessings.

Ajin scratched his chin. Ajumma gestured outside the wide-open kitchen door.

“Look over there.”

Ajin turned his gaze in that direction. There, some gang members with pale faces were awkwardly seated, laughing. One guy, wearing a suit jacket, had thick bandages wrapped around his belly.

“Even the guy whose belly got ripped open, with his intestines spilling out, came from dawn to the funeral and is laughing.”

“…”

“Gangsters consider that as mourning.”

As Ajin gazed outside, the gang members did appear different to him now. Seokju, who was sitting in front at a distance, was also visible. He, too, was laughing like the others. His black mourning band tied around his arm felt strangely poignant.

“…”

Our boss is mourning in his own way. Suddenly, Ajin felt a lump in his throat. He was about to say something when Ajumma spoke.

“When I pass away, don’t mope around. Dance or do something joyful. So that I can go to a good place.”

“Why are you saying that, Ajumma! Don’t talk like that!”

Ajin opened his eyes wide, and Ajumma burst into laughter.

“I’m already fifty-six. How much longer do I have to live?”

“Most people live up to seventy these days.”

“Jeez.”

“In fact, many live up to eighty. They say if you go to the hospital, even a terminal illness can be cured.”

“You think they’d treat you for free? How much would they charge for you?”

“I have plenty of money!”

Ajin said, raising his chin. Ajumma shook her head, laughing.

“You’re crazy. Go take a dump…”

“It’s true. I’m really rich. Even if Ajumma gets a terminal illness three times, I have enough to cure her three times.”

He still had the five thousand won he received from Seokju. He saved the money he got every month. Since he had no use for it, he just saved it randomly, but if Ajumma got sick, he could use it all.

Ajumma was the only person Ajin truly cared about in the world. Even if he couldn’t call her family, it didn’t matter. She was a precious person to him.

The thought of an old Ajumma dying miserably made Ajin’s eyes well up with tears. Ajumma patted his bony back gently.

“Ajin, people all die one day.”

“But Ajumma won’t.”

“Don’t be afraid of death. Live well, so you can be reborn in a better form.”

“But you’re only fifty-six.”

“Stop it. How can you live through those long years in boredom?”

“No, live until you’re eighty.”

Ajin swallowed back his tears with a sob. At his innocence, Ajumma clicked her tongue. A faint smile lingered on her lips.

The funeral lasted for three days. During that time, Ajin didn’t exchange a single word with Seokju. In normal circumstances, he might have visited his room at night, but Seokju had been guarding the bier all night, so they hadn’t crossed paths.

Now, it was early morning, after the funeral. The funeral had concluded, and the gang members had gone to their respective rooms to catch up on lost sleep. There were many who cried for the departed, but they, too, soon grew weary and fell into a deep slumber. The servants, who had worked tirelessly day and night for three days, had also cleared away the remnants of the funeral and collapsed in exhaustion.

The entire house was quiet. The rain had stopped, and the heat had returned. When lying on the floor, sweat clung to your body, dripped down, and repeated the process. The incessant cries of cicadas made your ears sting, and the sunlight streaming through the lattice windows was harsh.

Unlike the servants who slept with their bellies exposed, Ajin, who slept alone, wrapped himself tightly in his blanket. He suddenly opened his eyes, for no apparent reason. It was as if his eyes had naturally opened.

“…”

Ajin, who blinked slowly, soon realized why he had woken up. He was worried about Seokju.

What is he doing now? Just like everyone else, is he sleeping? He’s someone who can’t sleep alone, but he hasn’t been able to sleep for three days. Maybe he can sleep alone now. I hope he’s not taking any more medicine.

He remembered the night he had met Seokju, looking pitiful. Once he remembered that, he couldn’t stay still. Ajin got up, neatly arranged the blanket, and left his room.

One might think it’s unusual for a servant to be worried about the boss. Ajin could be criticized for making a fuss over it. Even so, he couldn’t help but worry, because he had applied medicine to Seokju’s foot himself. Maybe I’m just making a fuss, like a loyal subject serving a king.

Ajin arrived quietly in front of Seokju’s room, ears pricked. He didn’t hear any movement at all. Ajin bit his lower lip. He couldn’t just stand there, hesitating. He had to know if Seokju was okay.

Slowly, Ajin called out to Seokju.

“Boss… Are you sleeping?”

“…”

“…Is the boss really sleeping?”

“…”

“In that case, I’ll just go…”

Ajin’s voice was small. Even if Seokju had his eyes wide open, he probably wouldn’t have heard. But Ajin didn’t have the courage to shout louder, and he didn’t have the audacity to enter his room.

Ajin clenched his lips and, with a reluctant heart, turned to leave.

However, at that moment, the door opened with a creak.

“Are you, Ajin?”

Seokju, dressed in a long robe, stood there with tired eyes. Ajin quickly approached him and lowered his head.

“Boss, hello.”

“Why are you here?”

“Oh, people, everyone is, asleep. I was curious about what the boss was doing…”

“…”

“Well, that, just in case, are you sleeping alone… You didn’t sleep for three days. But the weather is too hot, and your injuries haven’t healed well, so, so, that’s why I was worried-”

Ajin couldn’t finish his sentence. Seokju grabbed his waist, pulling him into the room as if swallowing him up.