Prologue


    An indigo car of foreign make pulled up in front of the store. Mr. Hong, who had just opened the cafe, stopped his mopping and watched as a man in a beige leather jacket stepped out of the car.

    "Wouldja take a look at his fashion? And damn, that's a nice car."

    He had just thought to himself that the man couldn't possibly have any business around here when the man looked toward the store. No, more like glared at the store. The man looked at the shoddy sign and the plastic rose-patterned curtains covering the windows and made a face as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

   "What, too tacky for you?" Mr. Hong's efforts at scowling failed to give the effect of a mean eye. Time and age had pulled his eyelids down to the effect of a southern Mongoloid. Like a hush puppy.

    "Stop gawking, will ya? Giving me the creeps. Shoo, shoo. I won't sell you no coffee, see if I do."

    As Mr. Hong muttered to himself, the man made a condescending face and shook his head. His expression near shouted, 'I'd rather drink cheap vending machine coffee at a bus station than drink the coffee they sell here.'  Even so, the man walked toward the store. He stopped to read the 'Help Wanted' sign posted on the front glass door before stepping in.

    You want to work here? You? No way. Not at your age.

    "We're not open yet," —was what Mr. Hong was about to say, but before he had the chance, he had to squint his eyes. Maybe it was because the man had his back turned to the sunlight, but it seemed that there was a bright halo behind the man's head. It was so dazzling that Mr. Hong couldn't look at him properly. He missed his chance to speak, and before he knew it, the man had already taken a seat at a table by the window.

    "Coffee, please."

    "Oh, of course."

    It was reflex. 'Damn it, that's not what I meant to say...' thought Mr. Hong as he walked into the kitchen. The cuckoo clock hanging on the wall started chiming. 11 o'clock. Now he couldn't even say that the store wasn't open yet. After all, the sign on the door did say, "Opening time: 11 o'clock."

    The man was a sophisticated dandy boy rarely seen in that neighborhood. He was very clean cut and handsome. Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? He was looking out the window with his long legs crossed. His facial features were rather sharp and cold, but he carried a rather swaggering air about him. The fabric of his pants looked like they were better fit to make women's scarves than men's pants, and his leather jacket clung to his body as if it were his skin. Not only that, but the width of the pants at the thighs looked like they were less than six inches wide. How the hell do his legs fit through that? What is he, a freak? I don't know what's with the world these days. You call that a man's leg? Damn pansy.
      
    Mr. Hong moved his chubby roly-poly of a body to serve coffee. He set the cup in front of the dandy boy.
   
    "Enjoy."

    Dandy Boy didn't even look up. From up close, he smelled like perfume.

    "What kind of a man..." thought Mr. Hong as he wrinkled his nose. Just then he felt the man's gaze and flinched. He quickly put on a smile, but Dandy Boy was looking past him toward the back. He was looking at the kitchen, the wall, the floor. He made the same expression as when he was outside the store.

    What is this, a pigpen? A stable? was what his eyes said. So what? What's it to you? Stop gawking, boy. If you're a customer, just act like one and drink your coffee and get out of here. What do you think you're doing, gaping around here like that? Hey! Who do you think you are, to give me a once-over? I'm the owner! What do you keep staring for? What, you like my style, do ya?

    Mr. Hong was brought out of his silent and petulant reverie by something that sparkled. Around one of Dandy Boy's hands, the one stretched out to lift the cup, was a shining watch. Mr. Hong, who had planned to go back to the kitchen, approached the man as if pulled toward him by some force.

    "Uh... It doesn't... seem... like you're from around... here... ..."   
   
    The watch, which emanated a white gold light, was of famous Swiss make. Mr. Hong recognized the brand, even though he'd only ever heard about. Mr. Hong couldn't help but be a bit humbled.

    "Did you come here to meet someone?"

    "Yes. Aren't there any other employees?" asked Dandy Boy, turning the cup with the edge of his fingers.

    "Oh, yea, there was, but he quit some time ago. That's why the sign's up over there. Looking for a part-timer."

    By "some time ago," Mr. Hong meant eight months ago. There was a part-timer who ended up quitting because business was so bad. In fact, business was so bad that Mr. Hong could work all by himself and still have time left to kill, and it was difficult anyhow just to pay the rent. So he put the store on the market, but there had only been dead silence for two months. Finally, a few days ago, someone had claimed the store and signed the contract, but Mr. Hong hadn't yet told this to his family.

    Roadside snack wagon, my ass. In all 39 years of my life, I've never done anything else but sell coffee.

    "So, you clean the store, make the coffee, serve the coffee, and receive the money? All by yourself?"

    "I've got to. What else could I do? Do you know how hard it is to find a hard-working, honest part-timer these days?"

    "You're quite the multi-tasker."

    "Ha ha, I do have quite a variety of talents," laughed Mr. Hong awkwardly.

    "So, did you study coffee-making somewhere?"

    What, you need a certificate to make coffee?

    "I didn't study it anywhere, but I do have a lot of experience. I worked part-time at a coffee shop all through college. It's more familiar to me than my major was. Ha ha."

    "How long have you had this store?"

    "Third year this year. Location's not too good."

    "So you knew that. Location's not the only thing at fault, though, is it? What was that idiom about the carpenter blaming his chisel..."

    The hell are you saying, boy?

    "I passed some pretty big buildings on my way here."

    "Yea, last year some banks and stock companies set up shop around here. But what good did that do? That Bucks and Seattle there killed the field. Not only that, but that huge supermarket just totally shat on the small businesses nearby. See, this is what's wrong with our country. Shouldn't the people support small businesses first? Only then can the commoners' economy thrive, and only when the commoners' economy thrives can our national soccer team make it to the Sweet Sixteen, don't you think so? After all, the most important body part, be it man or country, is the lower back, don't you think? Ha ha ha!"

Dandy Boy did not laugh. Mr. Hong was embarrassed.

Dandy turned the cup another revolution with his fingertips, then inspected the saucer, the coaster, the teaspoon, and the cubed sugar by turn. Then, he lifted his cup as if sampling wine. Mr. Hong killed his breath, nervous for some reason. He didn't know why his chest felt like it was shrinking into itself. He found himself staring at Dandy Boy's lips. He knew it was strange to stare, but he couldn't tear his gaze away. Dandy Boy was barely wetting his lips with the coffee.

Mr. Hong wanted to ask, "How do you like it?" but the words crawled back down his throat. Dandy was wincing. He took it away from his lips and then tried another small gulp, and then slammed the cup down on the table as if he never wanted to see it again.

    What the hell's the matter with you?

    Mr. Hong started to get pissed. If nothing else, he prided himself on brewing a decent cup of coffee.

    "Does the flavor not agree with your?" Mr. Hong forced a smile.

    "Tastes like boiled maple leaves."

    "Huh?"

    "I suppose if you boil them long enough, it'd turn this color, right?" said Dandy Boy with no expression. That pissed Mr. Hong off even more. Just then the door was flung open.

    "Ahjussi! Have you seen En Se?" The kid who had run in gasping and sweating was En Chan.

    "Haven't seen her. Why?"

    "Ah, damn it! I'm gonna go crazy! Where the hell is this damn girl hiding? You sure she didn't come here?"

    "Why are you lookin' for En Se here? What, you think this is some kind of youth protection center or somethin'?" snapped Mr. Hong, who was still pissed off. But En Chan was too excited to notice his ill mood.

    "Aaargh! Stupid kid. Where the hell am I going to find her?"

    "What is it this time?"
   
    "She skipped class to go to some kind of audition. Goddamn it! Just you get caught! I'll introduce her face to the toilet!" The kid's voice rang like a construction site overseer's after one too many drinks. "That reckless kid even ran off with a teacher's shoes! She's saying she only borrowed it, but who'll believe that? If you run off with something without telling, that's stealing. She's gonna learn a lesson this time!"

    "Yea, well, the whole world knows if Ko En Se's got anything, she's got guts."

    "Damn, where does she come from anyway! I mean, I know it's pretty strange that I myself came out of my mother's womb, but it's a damn world wonder that she did. If she wants something, she just loses her mind. Even so, sneaking into the teacher's lounge to take a teacher's shoes.... Damn!"

    Mr. Hong was getting swept away by En Chan's excitement.
  
    "Why don't you try going to the place where the auditions are? Wouldn't she be there?"

    "I just came from there! Grrr!!!" En Chan stomped inside the store wearing a jumper over a Taekwondo practice suit. Even though it was almost March, it was still snowing in the early hours of the morning, and the wind was chilly. Even so, En Chan's forehead was shining with sweat. En Chan bent down to the faucet and drank the water straight from the tap. After gulping it down and burping, En Chan hand went up to wipe the mouth.

    "Her audition number was 1 so she went first. Apparenly, it was a total shit-show. I have no idea why that kid who sings perfectly fine at home always messes up at auditions. It sounds like she's chanting Buddhist mantras or something. They said she gave up halfway through and ran out in despair. Her friend ran to get her, but couldn't find her."

    "She's a real handful, that one."

    "Anyway, if you see her, hit me up right away. Even if you have to break her legs, keep her here, ok?"

    "Well, I don't know if I'll be able to restrain her, but I'll try."

    "Ok, thanks." En Chan ran out before Mr. Hong could even respond. Even after En Chan's departure, the store vibrated with the energy and excitement En Chan had brought in.

    "That kid...." Mr. Hong knew that behind those tough words, En Chan cared about En Se, and that that was the reason behind the frantic search. Wanting to be of some help, Mr. Hong considered calling up the PC Cafe En Se frequented. But then again, En Chan had probably checked there, too.... Suddenly the door flung open again.

    "Hey, mister, you were looking for a part-timer?" Mr. Hong looked at En Chan, who he thought had already left."

    "Huh? Oh... yea...."

    "You should've told me earlier! Didn't you know I was looking for a part-time job?"

    Suddenly, color began to circulate in En Chan's face. Black eyes twinkled in a white face. En Chan's attitude was tough and reckless, sure, but En Chan's face, at least, was that of a total pretty boy. There wasn't a single girl in the neighborhood schools who didn't know about Ko En Chan. They would crowd around the Taekwondo dojo door, even taking numbers just to get a glimpse. The kid's popularity bordered on ridiculousness.

    "What's this? What's up with these qualifications? ' 5'9'' minimum height '? hmm... close 'nuff. Still growing, you see. I haven't checked recently, but I'm probably somewhere around 5'8''. It's ok if I round up, right?"  

    "Uh, yea. Listen—"

    " 'Hot bods, hot faces, welcome.' " En Chan's face rotated under Mr. Hong's eyes as if they were cameras. "You have heard, I presume, that I was voted Hottest Face nine weeks straight on some website, right?"

    "I have heard that, yes."

    "You've heard it because it's true. Even if it was three years ago." En Chan kept reading the advertisement posted on the glass door line by line.

    " 'Killer smiles, angelic smiles, welcome.' That's easy. Next. ' Popular with older women, welcome welcome welcome' Check. Ha ha, what is this?  'Must have special talent,'  'Must not have girlfriend,'? What's the point in being so picky? Hey mister, you setting up a talent agency? You trying to raise yourself some celebrities?"

    "N-no... It's not like that..."

    Actually, the content of the ad had been sent to Mr. Hong via e-mail from the new owner of the store. En Chan incredulously read off the list of qualifications. When he had first received it, Mr. Hong had been just as flabbergasted as En Chan was right now. He had also thought the same thing.

    What is this, a talent agency?

    "Five dollars an hour. Wh-what? Really? Lunch, dinner, AND five bucks an hour? Woah! That's, like, twice what I get now! Mister, hire me, will you? I'll start tomorrow, even! Please? Please?"

    "Hey hey hey, take a closer look there. Only hiring me- "
   
    "In other words, I've gotta be a total stud. Hmm... This job was made for me."

    Mr. Hong was at a loss for words. It said on the ad in black and white that the new owner was only looking for men. Did En Chan never look in the mirror after taking a bath? It was almost sad how a twenty-four year-old girl could still be so confused about her own identity. It might even be that she really thought she was a man.

    "Business must sure be pretty bad, huh? You're starting to use some strange methods."

    "That's not my ad."

    "Huh? Then whose it is? A different store?" En Chan suddenly gave Mr. Hong a piercing stare as she sidled up to him. She squinted her eyes and whispered, "A host bar, perhaps?"

    "Hey, don't go spouting nonsense. Do they give out five an hour at a host bar?"

    "Well, I meant, you know, five an hour as a cover, you know? As in, not including tips..."

    "Why, would you rather work at a host bar?" a snide voice chimed in. Startled, Mr. Hong and En Chan's heads snapped up and turned toward the Dandy Boy. He was arrogantly lounging in the chair. He uncrossed his legs and stood up. He straightened his body as if to reinforce his height and walked toward them.

    "Aa....aaaarrggh!!!" En Chan suddenly roared like King Kong, and Mr. Hong, whose ear had unfortunately been directly under her mouth, fell backwards onto his rear. His heart pounded and his ears rang. A pallid En Chan was staring at the Dandy Boy. Then she said incredulously,
   
    "P-pervert c-cabbage slug man?" Dandy Boy's eyes suddenly grew violent. Then, with an expression that could not be distinguished between a sneer and a glare, he came toward her.

    "What's with the practice suit? Are you demonstrating your 'superior physical strength' in street shows these days?"

    "What? You son of a--"

    "Or is that a flunky uniform?"

    En Chan's two clenched fist came up. Twin fires burned in her eyes, and it seemed she would kick out with her foot at any second. Even Mr. Hong could understand why.

    How dare he call the dignified suit of a Taekwondo master a flunky uniform? That man sure has a way with words.

    "Ha, pretty cute, aren't you? Your form's not bad, either."

    "Whatever are you doing here, young master, sir? Don't your holy feet hurt if they walk on such crude and un-carpeted floors?" sneered En Chan. The man didn't blink an eye at this un-En Chan-like behavior.

    "It's all right, I'm wearing particularly excellent shoes. Shoes so expensive you probably couldn't own them if you died and came back to life. But shoes aside, you've been glaring at me for some time now. Hey, kid, relax those eyes, why don't you?"

    "You got a problem? You want to go?"

    "Go? Go where? The market? The playground? Don't fool yourself, kid. If you want to get a part-time job, you'd better fix those eyes, you little leech."

    "What!"

    Dandy Boy sneered and turned to Mr. Hong.

    "I'm Choi Han Kyul. I signed the contract a few days ago."

    "Oh... yes...." Mr. Hong found himself shaking hands with the man. Then it finally hit him as he watched Dandy Boy walk toward the kitchen. The name that the man who had come to sign the contract in the owner's stead had written was Choi Han Kyul.

    "What? What's up with this, mister? What's that pervert cabbage slug saying?"

    "Huh? Oh, yea... I think he's saying he's the owner of this store..."

    "Whaaat? Ha! What a riot. That idiot's probably still experiencing jet lag or something."

    "Well, I did sell the store."

    "M-mister!! You're kidding... right?!??"













Chapter 1
One Month Earlier: En Chan's 25th Hour


< Part 1 > 7:50 PM – En Chan Buys Meat

Flowers are flowers and trees are trees, but this is pretty confusing. Are you a flower or a tree?

En Chan was gazing intently through the glass window at a painting. Sunflowers were standing in two neat rows, and a mother and child were walking between them holding hands.

You know, I've already counted all of you seven years ago. There's seventy-two of you guys. But is that seventy-two flowers or seventy-two trees? That's what so confusing.

There was a loud clanking sound. The meat shop had finally opened its doors.

“Heyyyy, Mister Ku, you were there?” wheedled En Chan as she dragged her flip-flops into the store. The distinct fragrance of a meat shop wafted into her nose. Drool began to form in her mouth.

En Chan's eyes darted around as she approached the counter. She kept her gaze, flashing with greedy lust, glued on the glass cover of the display counter. The eyes that had rationally appraised the sunflowers were now emanating a visceral, wild look. As soon as she saw the deep red of the raw meat, adrenaline began to pump through her veins.

“Did everything go well? You said you had to take care of something.” The butcher replied with a sullen look as he continued to sharpen his knives.

“What was the thing you had to do anyway?”

“....”

“It seems like the bacon meat's not selling well these days, huh mister?”

En Chan is, as some would say, a pork maniac. Just by looking at raw meat, she could see images of their respective dishes in her head. Pork cutlet, salty boiled pork, sweet and sour pork in orange sauce... Whenever she looked at pork ribs, she found herself grinding her teeth. Not only was her appetite strong, but she could also conjure up images of food in less than a second.

“You want bacon?”

“Naw, just give me some meat off the front legs. I'm going to make kimchee stew.”

The kimchee stew was, in fact, already boiling in En Chan's head. The proportionally cut kimchee, the pork meat with just the right amount of fat attached, all of this went into a thick broth and merrily bubbled and simmered. En Chan, who was swallowing the saliva that had been building up in her mouth, noticed that something was off-kilter and raised her head. Mr. Ku was being too quiet. He was sitting on the edge of the room's threshold staring blankly at the meat in the glass display case. She studied his round meatball face. He looked deflated and shriveled. A bruised meatball, then.

“Hey, mister, what's the matter? Did something happen?”

Mr. Ku, who had been staring vacantly at the meat replied in a tired voice.

“Hey, En Chan, when you look at all this meat, what do you think about?”

“Meat, you say?”

“Yea.”

“What kind of meat? This? The shanks?”

“No, just in general.”

“Beef as well as pork?”

“Stop kidding around and answer the question.”

“Even pig's feet and cow tails?”

“No! Just, just, meat! Meat in general!” shouted Mr. Ku suddenly. En Chan, who had been joking around until then threw a startled look at the butcher. But she soon recovered and jovially said as she smiled,

“Hey, what're you yelling for? Calm down, relax. It's not good for your blood pressure. Look, your face is already turning red.”

“Forget it. Forget it! You haven't got a sincere bone in your body. That's why you're still living like that!”

“Hey, don't get all sulky now. What's the matter? Did swine cholera break out somewhere again?”

“I said drop it. What could I possibly talk to you about? Just drop it.”

“Tsk tsk, let's not get all shy and sulky. Just tell me what's the matter.”

“You're not understanding what I'm saying is the matter! Just meat! Meat in general! MEAT!”

“Yea, meat! That's why I asked earlier. What kind of meat? Sirloin or ribs? I've gotta know if I'm gonna answer.”

“Arrrgh!” An incensed Mr. Ku started pulling out the meat platters from the display case and slamming them onto the counter top. The perky meat danced and jiggled on top of the trays. En Chan was dumbstruck. As she watched, she began to get heated as well. What the hell is this guy doing?

“If I say meat in general, you should understand that I'm saying meat in general! Hind legs are meat too, aren't they? Who says only sirloin and ribs are meat!” Mr. Ku began to stab the sirloin and ribs with his fingers. And every time he did, En Chan's eyes grew wider and wider and her breath grew more and more ragged.

This guy is going too far! Why's he ruining perfectly good meat?! Who's gonna eat that?! Those dirty fingernails went in nearly all the way! How was he going to sell THAT?

Then a thought came to her that brought her peace immediately.

He can't sell it. If he does, he's got no conscience. But, it'd be a shame to throw it out, so if he asks me to, I could bring myself to take it. It'd probably be all right if I grill it. But still! What's the big idea, abusing meat that so reverently offered itself up to be eaten?

“No matter how expensive, Hanwoo brand beef is still the same meat, and so's Kobe beef! Do you get it, kid? Now, I'm asking you, what do you think about when you see this meat?!”

“Meat is meat. What is there to think about?”

“Of course there there's something to think about, you idiot!”

“I-idiot?” En Chan was momentarily incensed. “Hey! Who you calling idiot? When I look at meat, all I can think about it how much I want to eat it. What else is there to think about, huh?”

“Wow, for a girl, you've got no emotions, have you?”

“What does this have to do with being a girl? You dried up old geezer bachelor!”

“You little pig! You got a problem with that? You got a problem with me being an old geezer bachelor?”

“Right back at you! You got a problem with me being born a girl?”

“You're a girl who can't even stand up for herself when people call you a guy, you moron.”

“It gets tiring after a while, all right? It's not like it happens just once or twice, it's every day! Having to explain every single time.... Damn it! You know what I mean! What's wrong with you?”

“You secretly enjoy it, don't you.”

“What? Secretly enjoy what?”

“You secretly enjoy people mistaking you for a guy. When screaming middle and high-school girls surround you and snap away with their cameras, it makes you feel good, doesn't it?”

“Hey, listen, mister, I'm no pervert! You old fart, what do you think you're doing, pouring salt on the wound?”

“Old fart? Fine, you want it to go that way, do you, huh?!”

“I don't know where you got screwed or who you got screwed by, but why are you taking your anger out on me, huh? What am I, your punching bag? You always take it out on me.”

“And what, I can't get angry? I can't get mad just because I'm a good-for-nothing who failed the Shinchon Literary Exam fourteen times?”

“What, are you proud of having failed fourteen....” En Chan trailed off. Fourteen? Oh... just yesterday the number had been thirteen! Ah. So that's why Mr. Ku's face looked like it was about to explode.

“They... announced the results, ey?” Tsk tsk, guess he failed it again.

“The dream I had was spot on. A few nights ago I dreamed that I was trapped and suffocating beneath a milk cow. The cow was suffocating me with her udders and she kept saying, 'Cut me, why don't you. Just try and cut me.' I kept struggling because I felt like I was going to pass out and die, but the next moment, I realized I was trying to cut the cow from underneath it.” Mr. Ku set the pork front leg on the chopping board and began to cut it into large pieces. “But this stupid knife wouldn't listen. It just kept kneading at the cow's skin as if it was sawing away at it or something. And the cow laughed. It laughed and kept saying, 'Cut me. Try and cut me.'”

“Must've been pretty nice, though.”

“What must've been pretty nice?”

“You like udders, don't you? Nice, big 'udders'.”

“Why you little—!”

“I know you have pictures of 'udders' posted on your bedroom wall. I mean, I can understand your liking them, but that calendar's from 1999, mister. How can you still have it up?”

“What, do you think I leave it up because of the picture? I left it up because that's the month my parents died. That's your problem. Even though you're a girl, your mind's a gutter. I don't know how you think you're qualified to teach children. If I ever have a kid, I'd never leave him under your care.”

“Ha, get married first, then talk.”

“You can have kids without getting married, you brat.”

“How? Adoption?”

“That's not what I... Whatever, talking to you makes me dizzy. Where was I?”

“The stupid dream.”

“Damn bastards. What do they know, huh? All judges are the same, you know that? The literary world is rotten to the core. It's just a playground for inbred idiots.”

“Yea. Rotten to the core. Totally,” En Chan agreed emptily, but her gaze was fixed on the chopping board. The number of meat pieces was growing. What was he trying to do, make meat hash?

“What's in a poem? Emotion. Impression. You should calmly relish each verse, and take into account even each blank space. And you've got to read it all the way so that you can enjoy the exquisite thrill of the twist at the end. These bastards only read the title and the first one or two lines and then throw it out. They don't take the duty of judging seriously enough. What does it matter if you're a famous poet or novelist if you don't know how to appreciate real art?”

“What was the title this time?”

“ 'The Infinite Hexahedron of Raw Meat'. The dripping blood, the glutinous meat, the white fat, the thick sap hidden in the hard bones. The life of the butcher who cuts this piece of raw meat into a hexahedron, his joys and sorrows, his solitude. My poem was soaked in these things.

“Is that why you kept asking me what I thought when I looked at meat?”

“Yea. When I look at all this meat....” Mr. Ku let out a deep sigh and picked up the knife that he had put down in his excitement. En Chan couldn't help wishing he'd notice how thin the pieces had already become.

“Meat, to me, if life itself. A love-hate relationship I couldn't let go of even if I wanted to. How could they not understand that profoundness?”

“Guess they must be vegetarians or something.”

“What?”

“You know, the judges might be vegetarians or something. Eating healthy's the new fad, you know?” Nonplussed, Mr. Ku stood stock still with his knife in midair. En Chan took this chance to rescue the meat.

“Eating... healthy?”

“Yea. That's why these days vegetables are more expensive than meat. Didn't you know?” She held out a fiver to pay for the meat that was now too absurdly thin to use for stew.

“Forget it.”

“What? Why?”

Mr. Ku went back into his room with a blank stare.

What is he getting all shocked for just because I suggested that the judges might be vegetarians? I was just saying it was possible.








< Part 2 > 8:50 PM: Go, Tae Kwon V, Go!


The building En Chan works in is four stories high. She works on the second floor, at the DongMoon Taekwondo dojo. The entrance is a small door on the left side of the building. The stairs are so small and cramped that an adult standing up straight would take up the whole of its space, and the floor is dusty. There's graffiti on a picture frame that is hanging on a cracking wall. Half of the frame's glass has been broken and hastily taped. In the frame is a picture of the dojo's students who had won medals in some competition. The students are smiling widely, floral wreaths around their necks. The dojo master is standing with a reserved look on his face. In every other picture, the student with the medal is a different boy or girl, but the look on the dojo master's face is changeless. Even now, after so many years, it has not changed.

En Chan picked up a gum wrapper that had fallen on the floor and then fixed the crooked picture frame. She flew over the last three steps and stepped into the dojo.

“Master!”

“Yea?” As soon as she stepped in, a kid came to tell on someone.

“Seung Kyung brought Simba with her.”

En Chan left the plastic bag of pork on top of the desk and looked around. Seung Kyung was standing with a small poodle in her arms. The other children surrounded her like an courtroom audience waiting to hear En Chan's verdict.

“Why are you guys still here? If you're done with practice you should go home.”

“We were gonna eat pizza. Why, is that illegal or something?” challenged Bong Tae Won.

Dear God, when is that little brat gonna get past puberty?

“Seung Kyung ordered pizza. She ordered yours, too, Master. Your mother's not home today, right? Seung Kyung's mother went somewhere today, too.” The speaker of this breathless explanation was the little girl named Yun Jung who had come to tell on Seung Kyung about Simba.

“Hey, I already told you, she didn't just go 'somewhere,' she went to go see a 'musical'.”

“Oh yea, musical.” Seung Kyung rolled her eyes at Yun Jung but the latter didn't seem to care.

“I felt bad for Simba because he was going to be home alone. I can play with him here until Mom comes to pick me up, right?” Even if she spoke more nicely than Bong Tae Won, there was definitely an arrogant air in her tone. What in the world is with kids today. Why should I feel intimidated by a twelve year-old girl? And En Chan couldn't even say, “How could you even think of bringing a dog into this sacred dojo?” to these kids because they were the ones who were bringing in the money.

“You'll only have 30 minutes. It's almost time for the next group's practice.”

“30 minutes is enough. The pizzas will be here soon. I ordered your favorite— bulgogi pizza.”

En Chan's eyes suddenly flashed. Ohhhh, yes! Bulgogi! But she tried her best to act aloof. She started rummaging around the desk drawers.

“Y-you guys eat...”

“Hey Seung Kyung, can Simba eat this?”

“Yea, whatever.”

The children were tempting Simba with a sausage. En Chan didn't yell at the children even though they were running around the wooden dojo floor with the dog. Usually, she would've screamed, “Hey! Knock it off!” but right now she was looking at the children with hazy eyes and saliva filling up in her mouth. Seung Kyung was looking up at En Chan with rapture in her eyes, and Tae Won was furiously glaring at En Chan. The two were rising sixth graders this year, and they fought and played like Tom and Jerry. Since Tae Won enrolled after Seung Kyung did, did that make him Tom? And En Chan is the cheese, the center of the trouble.

En Chan couldn't think of anything but dinner. She would leave the next group's practice to the dojo Master and go upstairs to her house on the roof to eat. Excellent plan.

And she'd eat pizza beforehand. Then the main course, the kimchee stew with rice, and then Mom's Pretty Pretty Salad for desert. Heh heh heh.

“Master, you're drooling,” said Seung Kyung.

“Huh? Oh...” En Chan gave a sheepish grin and wiped the saliva with her sleeve. Tae Won made a face as if to say, 'that's disgusting,' but Seung Kyung watched even this action with admiration.

“Master, did you read the e-mail I sent you?”

“You sent me an e-mail? I haven't read it yet...” En Chan wasn't too friendly with the computer. Come to think of it, she couldn't exactly remember her own e-mail address. It looked like it would be an awkward situation, but En Chan reached for the computer on the desk anyway with a forced smile.

“Sh-shall I take a look? What kind of e-mail could Seung Kyung have sent me?”

“No! No!” Seung Kyung flew to the computer and turned it off. She blocked the monitor with a face that was blushing furiously and glanced nervously at Tae Won.

“R-read it later. Oh, hey! Look! Pizza's here!” Seung Kyung skitted off and opened her pink wallet. En Chan couldn't bring herself to watch a disciple pay, so she pretended to be busy doing other things. In the middle of this act, she made eye contact with Tae Won who had been watching her.

“What?”

Tae Won gave her a look of exasperation and took off.

“That brat...”

“Master, come quickly and eat!”

“Oh, y-yea, yea, let me just.. finish this. Go ahead, eat.”

I can't just dive right in. I've got my pride as a master. She kept rummaging through the desk. But her charade didn't last longer than a few seconds. The fragrance of the pizza had come wafting into her nose. Not only that, but the children were eating so avidly and with such delightfully slurpy gusto that En Chan felt her ears would soon start drooling as well.

“M-maybe I'll try a piece,” she muttered to herself as she headed toward the children.

“Here, master,” said Seung Kyung, handing En Chan a piece she had saved especially for her. This kid was too cute.

It was right then when Tae Won said,

“Master, phone.”

“Huh?” Tae Won was pointing at the desk. Not even with his fingers, but with his chin.

En Chan, whose five sense had been totally enraptured in the pizza, only just then heard her cell phone ring. Damn it! Who the hell was it? En Chan was not just a little pissed, but there was nothing to do but pick up the phone she had left on the desk.

“Hello?”

“Obba, it's me.” (translator's note: Korean females use the familiar title “obba” to refer to older males.) Sparks flew from En Chan's eyes. Who was this prank-calling wench?! The “obba” gave it away. All throughout middle school and high school, En Chan had been chased incessantly by hormone-driven juniors with confused sexual identities, and they had all called her “obba.” Even some girls in the same grade used to pant after her calling, 'obba, obba'.

And they still haven't recovered from their delusion?!

“You've got the wrong number.” She was just about to hang up when a panicked voice said,

“Obba, it's me! En Se.”

“I can't talk right now.”

“Why?”

Why? I'll tell you why, I was just about to....

Seung Kyung was holding out a huge slice of pizza and motioning to En Chan to come and eat it. En Chan beamed at her and nodded her head.

“I'm busy right now so call me later. I'm gonna hang up now.”

“Obba, I'm in trouble! Some punk keeps bothering me.”

“What?” The pizza left En Chan's head. “What punk?!”

“I keep telling him to go away but he keeps following me. He's in front of me right now. Won't you come and help me, obba?”

“Which son of a— where are you!”

“Coffee Prince.”

The only people who could drag En Chan away from food were Mom and En Se. En Se blew her bangs out of her eyes and snatched up her jumper. She headed toward the exit with the phone against her ear.

“Why the hell are you hanging out with that kind of bastard?! And what have you been doing wandering around and not going home?!”

“I kept trying to go home, but this guy....”

“Shut up! I don't want to hear it! You're really gonna get it. Hey, Mr. Hong's there, right?”

“Mr. Hong? Yea. He's watching us from the counter.”

“Then don't move and—”

Suddenly En Chan's two legs flew through the air (“AARRGH!”) and then she promptly fell on her ass. The children all stopped eating their pizzas and turned to look at En Chan. One hand was in her jumper sleeve, the other, holding the cell phone. One knee was trying to hold her body up and the other leg was held up high in the air. From the foot of this leg dropped Simba's brown dung.

F....fu..... aaaack !! I'm going to strangle this dog!

“Obba, what's the matter? Obba?” En Se's shrill voice spilled out of the phone. The trophy cabinet began to sway. All eyes went toward the cabinet as the trophies began to fall. En Chan reflexively put out her hands.

“Umph!” She'd barely caught the trophy when, just as she was about to take a sigh of relief, the TaeKwon boy's head fell off from the top of the trophy and rolled away across the floor. En Chan gasped. En Chan could hear the children breathing. En Chan could feel their gazes filled with both anxiety and pity alike.

“When the dojo Master finds out about this...”

“Damn it...” She had to put the boy's head back on the trophy and then go wash her feet, but Seung Kyung kept wrapping gauze around her hand.

“Master, you're bleeding.” It was only a small scratch between the thumb and index fingers that came from the encounter with the trophy's sharp edge, but nobody could stop Seung Kyung. “We have to treat it quick. If we don't, it'll keep bleeding.” Seung Kyung was even on the verge of tears. A band-aid would've been sufficient. But Seung Kyung kept wrapping the gauze around and around En Chan's hand. Eventually the gauze came all the way up to her wrist and it was stiff like a cast. Even so, En Chan couldn't blame Seung Kyung. She knew the girl hated the sight of blood. En Chan was very much aware of the fact that Seung Kyung had lost her little brother in a car accident. And also of the fact that Seung Kyung had been there to witness it.











































< Part 3 > 8:55 PM: En Chan Meets the Punk From the Land of the Crows


En Chan arrived with dried saliva on her sleeve and dried dog poo on her pants leg.

“Obba, what's wrong with your hand? Did you get hurt?”

“Ko En Se, you...” En Chan sometimes has trouble recognizing her little sister En Se. This is because En Se looks like a totally different person in the morning on her way to school. There was no doubt in En Chan's mind that En Se's school uniform was in its usual place: the subway station lockers.

“Obba, I thought I told you to stop fighting. You keep getting hurt because you always go around beating up every punk you see. Give your fist a rest every now and then.” En Se was being disgustingly sweet. En Chan knew well what the fox of a girl was up to.

In any case, did anyone have anything to eat?

“What the hell is this? This is your boyfriend? Ha, that's funny,” said an insolent voice. En Chan gave a cursory glance at the youth sitting in front of him. What the! Who is he, a punk from the land of crows (translator's note: in Korea, they liken people with dark skin to crows. The punk in this story is a dark-skinned youth; thus, punk from the land of crows.)? His skin was strikingly dark, and... dear Lord, to make things worse, his hair was frizzy to the max. That was the kiss of death.

En Chan couldn't tell whether the youth was shaking his leg because he was nervous or because he was trying to give off a tough-guy aura.

“Oh, God...” En Chan couldn't stop herself from groaning. She was leaning against the chair, but still her entire body ached. Her head felt like it was splitting apart. A part of the reason was because of the after effects of the fall, but En Chan was tired mentally as well. About 3 cm behind her right ear was a  hole the size of a quarter. As she fell on the wooden floor, a piece of gum that someone had spit out had stuck to her head. Boy, if she ever caught the brainless halfwit that spit out that gum... but that wasn't the point. She should've known something bad was going to happen when Tae Won, who was usually so taciturn, made a fuss waving around a pair of scissors saying he'd cut her hair for her. As Seung Kyung wrapped her hand in gauze, Tae Won stood by and cut her hair with a strange look on his face. Goosebumps had run up and down her entire body as she heard the snip-snip of the scissors. It was almost like being in a horror movie. In the end, she had no choice but to borrow the dojo Master's neighborhood security watch hat that was hanging on the wall.

“Yo, En Se, you've got to be kidding me. You're dumping me for this wimpy jerk?” In response to the punk's snide comment, En Se stuck onto En Chan's side and put her own arm through hers. The boy's eyes grew fierce. Man, that dark face looks really terrible all twisted like that.

En Chan blew out a short breath with her mouth as she looked at the glaring youth. It was her habit to blow her hair out of her eyes like that. But the hat started to move around, so she pressed down on it.

“Obba, get rid of him for me. Seriously, I'm about to go crazy because this kid keeps bothering me. I keep telling him that I'm dating someone, but he won't believe me.”

So, this time, En Se wasn't asking En Chan to pretend to be her big brother. She was asking En Chan to pretend to be her boyfriend. The punk was right. You've got to be kidding me.

When are you going to grow up, Ko En Se. I'm your freakin' sister!

En Chan couldn't do anything but give out big sighs. Mr. Hong brought her some water.

“What's wrong with your hand? Beaking wooden boards again?”

“Don't worry about it. Hey, mister, is there anything to eat?”

“To eat? Only biscuits. You want that, at least?”

En Chan sighed. If En Se hadn't made such a fuss about this punk, she probably would've changed clothes before coming. And eaten the pizza, of course. Actually, now that she thought about it, the plastic bag full of pork she'd left on the desk was starting to worry her as well.

“Yea, I'll take that, at least.”

“What do you want to drink?”

“Oh, come on, you know...” En Chan, who had just been about to skip over drinks to save money, suddenly remembered the fact that a very strange, very dark youth was sitting in front of her. Eh. He'd probably pay for it.

“Fresh fruit juice, then. A lot of it.”

“Seems like something a fruit like you would order. Yo, En Se, are you sure you're going out with this... thing? What's wrong with you? Didn't this obba tell you? You shouldn't mess around with poor little kids like him.”

En Se snorted in reply.

“Ha, don't make me laugh. Ya, Hwang Min Dal, who says you're some kind of obba? You're nothing but a lowlife punk.”

“It's not Min Dal, it's Min Yup! Man, how can you say such bitchlike things and still be so freakin' cute?”

Ugh... I'm gonna toss my cookies.

En Se poked En Chan's side. It was a signal to hurry up and get rid of the punk. En Chan looked the youth up and down from underneath a hat too big for its wearer. As soon as Seung Kyung finished wrapping the bandages she had hastily rubbed her foot on a mop and ran out the door. She'd come here with only the thought that she had to save En Se, but now, seeing the so-called “opponent” who now sat across from her, there was nothing she could do but sigh. He couldn't even be called a punk. This was the kind of guy who would rip snot-smeared dollar bills off of elementary school kids on playgrounds. He might talk tough, but En Chan couldn't see a mean look in his eyes. Of course, he didn't seem to possess any fighting abilities either.

“Yo, is this thing a middle schooler?” sneered the youth.

“Ya! You're really starting to piss me off!” En Se had a mean streak herself. “Who the hell are you to keep referring to him as “this thing”, huh?”

En Chan didn't really enjoy watching En Se's mean side, but she was touched by the fact that her sister was standing up for family. Little brat...

“He's four years older than you! Show some respect!”

“What? This thing is four is older than me. What do you take me for, huh? You think I'm blind? This wimp couldn't be any older than, fine, a high schooler. What, did he tell you he was twenty? You fell for it, stupid! Hey! You! Listen, you bastard, tell the truth. What's your freakin' age?”

“This is why I don't like you. Why do you have to look at everything so negatively? What, you think everyone's just like you? Just because every time you open your mouth a dirty lie comes out, you think everyone else does that too? You dirty liar.”

As soon as En Se finished her snide comment, the youth lost it.

“What? You little!”

“What, what're you going to do if you keep mad dogging me like that? You gonna hit me? Fine, go head, hit me. Then let's end this once and for all.”

“This is seriously fucked up...”

Is this how high schoolers talked to each other? What, in the name of heaven, did she call me out for. It looks like it's something they could've figured out themselves...

En Chan sunk lower in her chair, leaning her head against the back of it, waiting for the fresh fruit juice to come. En Se noticed this and poked her side again.

“Obba, say something!” En Chan glared furiously at the hat. She caught En Chan's eyes and sent a message telling her to hurry up.

“Uh.. yea...”

Her throat was cracking. En Chan put her hands on her empty belly and straightened her back.

If she was going to force me to pretend to be her boyfriend, she could've at least gotten me something to eat. I can't muster up the energy to go on. At this rate...

En Chan low voice went even deeper.

“You............ what's your name?”

“What do you need to know his name for?” En Se said petulantly. En Chan looked at the youth through the brim of the hat and spoke in an even deeper voice.

“You like our En Se or something?”

“Obba, why the hell are you asking him that?”

“Your En Se? Does she belong to you or something?”

En Chan knew that he looked down on her. The first thing was height. En Chan may have been popular among middle and high school girls, but her actual physical build couldn't compete with the average guy. At 5'8'', she was only slightly thicker boned than most girls.

“Listen, kid, you're not understanding what I'm saying. That's not the point. What I'm asking is, do you or do you not...”

Right then, the fruit juice arrived. En Chan abruptly stopped her sentence and held out her arm, but it didn't move very well. The bandages were wound so tightly she couldn't get a good grip. Damn it. With no other alternative, she held out her other arm. Mr. Hong clucked his tongue. En Chan immediately gulped it down in one shot. It took less than five seconds for her to finish an entire glass of fruit juice.

“Aaaahhh.”

“Obba.”

(Burp)

“Ew, that is too gross.”

“Hey, forget all this crap. Let's just go at it,” said the impatient youth. En Se's eyes rediscovered their twinkle as she turned to En Chan. Her eyes pleaded for her sister to “go at it.” There was no doubt that that's why En Chan had been called out. Sometimes, En Chan wondered if she such a girl really was her sister. She would put her sister in the fighting ring and then parade around like the round girl, huh?

En Chan smacked her lips and wiped her mouth. She briefly considered asking for a refill.

“Hey, you deaf? I said, come outside.” The youth threw out this challenge and went outside, but En Chan didn't move.

“What don't you like about him? He's pretty manly, isn't it?”

“Ahjussi!” En Se glared at the owner. But still Mr. Hong continued with an unctuous look on his face,

“Just a few days ago you two walked right by here holding hands. You get sick of him already?”

“I've only just found out his real character.”

“What's his real character like?”

“He's a total punk. He spits in front of girls, he's got no manners, his temper's dirty as hell, and he told me he was re-taking a year of high school after graduating, but it turns out he flunked back down.”

“Ah. So that's the critical blow.”

“Seriously! He told me he went to an engineering college, but it turns out he's nothing but a punk at an engineering high school who flunked down. Total liar!”

“I don't think you're in any position to be talking about this kid going to an engineering college or an engineering high school. As if you ever do any studying!” En Se returned to pleading mode as even En Chan joined in.

“Aw man, can't you talk about stuff like that at home later? I'm really in a bad fix right now!”

“Oh, really? It's tough work, dating, isn't it? I feel sooo bad for you.”

“Studying isn't the issue here! Your little sister is about to be abducted!”

“Abducted shmabducted. He probably couldn't even hurt a fly.”

“You're saying that because you don't know. He tried to take me to his room earlier by force!”

“You know what's funny? You only consider En Chan your unni (translator's note: females call familiar older females “unni” in Korea) when you're in a fix.” Mr. Hong's retort was met with the daggers from En Se's eyes. “Brr, I'm so scared,” exaggerated Mr. Hong as he hid himself behind the counter, still smiling.

“Unni, seriously, this is the last time. I'll never ask you to do something like this again.”

En Chan gave a sigh and looked at En Se. She had asked her to do something like this around last Christmas. She considered bringing that up. But then she decided it wouldn't make a difference anyway, and so she asked a question instead.

“You've got another boy, don't you?”

“No. Seriously, no.”

“Then why do you want to get rid of that guy?”

“So I can start studying. I'm a senior in high school now. I've really got to study, you know? If I go to an arts school and study music seriously, it'll be easier for me to become a singer.”

“Really?”

“I've got to grow up now. I can't always ask you for money. When I get into college, I'm going to find work on my own and earn my own spending money. So, sis, sissy, please, just one more time?”

En Chan hadn't expected her sister to say such things. Her nose began to tingle. She'd never dreamed she'd hear such wonderful words from her sister. En Chan wanted, like a father would, nothing but for En Se to grow up healthy and not cause too much trouble. And now she was all grown up, talking about earning her own spending money... En Chan was totally touched.

“Hey, what are you saying? You're no trouble to me...”

Right then the youth stuck his head back in and shouted,

“Yo! What are you doing? Come outside! What, you scared, you little wimp?”

“No, I'm just hungry, kid.”

“What?”

“Come inside.”

“Who do you think you are to order me around? Come outside!”

“Sit. Down.”

The youth surprisingly came back inside and flopped back in his seat, seething, but without much fuss. It was because he had only just then noticed En Chan's Taekwondo practice suit. Even though she was wearing a jumper on top, on the bottom, she was still wearing her suit. The black belt probably dispelled the idea that she was simply wearing white pants.

“Listen, kid. This hyung's (translator's note: Korean males use the familiar title “hyung” to refer to older males) not in a position to beat anyone up.”

“What the hell is this shithead saying?”

At the curse word, En Chan got angry.

“Watch your mouth! Or I'm gonna rub it down with sandpaper, got it?”

“What? You little bastard!”

“I said, SHUT UP!” En Chan tried to calm down and speak in a persuasive tone. “Listen. If I beat you up, I gotta go to the police station, and if I go to the police station, I won't be able to work, do you get it? So. Let's solve this a different way.”

“Don't be spouting horse shit. Let's just fight!”

“We can do something you're actually good at.”

“Ha! Trying to be cool, huh? Do you really think I'd lose to you at anything?”

“Oh yea? Ok.” En Chan raised her head and looked for Mr. Hong. The store was still empty of customers. Man, business is really bad at this place. “Mister! Call up Sea King Palace, would you?”

“Hey, just leave it. You're gonna stink up the place.”

“C'mon, it'll be over quick.”

“I don't know. Fine. It's been a while since the last time, so I'll let it go this time, all right?”

“Yes, sir!”

Watching Mr. Hong call the Sea King Palace, En Se muttered discontentedly,

“Why can't you just eat dinner at home?” En Chan ignored her and got in the youth's face.

“Hey... you got money?”

“What, are you going to mug me? You're full of all kinds of crap, huh?”

“We're going to bet on a jja jang myun eating race. Don't you think it's only fair the loser pays for the food?”

“What? Jja jang myun? What the hell... You little wimphead want to compete against me in an eating race? Freakin... Fine. I'll give you a break. I wanted to work up that mug of yours, but I guess you don't want to get hit, huh? But! Ko En Se, you better not change your tune afterwards. You promised to be mine if I beat this guy right here right now, remember?”

“Promise? What promise?”

“Ya!”

“Fine, fine, you lying punk.” She then turned to En Chan and smiled sweetly as she said,

“Wrap it up quickly, obba, ok?”

The youth looked slightly put off when the ten bowls of jja jang myun arrived. If he had been able to see En Chan's eyes, which were hidden under the hat, shine as if they were emitting fluorescent light, he would probably have been even more disconcerted. After finishing the first bowl in 13 seconds, En Chan's face was as sunny as an angel's. She ate with her face nearly shoved into the bowl, but the area around her mouth was surprisingly clean. To En Chan, jja jang sauce around her mouth would've been a waste.

Meanwhile, the youth was going through hell shoving the noodles into his stomach, which had been significantly shrunken by nervousness and a bit of intimidation. The game seemed fair until about the third bowl. But by the fourth bowl, the gap was evident and growing wider by the minute.

“Dog food. Octopus stew. Pizza. Pork porridge.”

The first one to give up or throw up would be proclaimed the loser.

“Margarine. Cooking oil. Fried pig skin. Ox tail soup,” murmured En Se, who was sitting with her chin in her hand. The words she threw out so nonchalantly were truly disgusting.

“Oily chop suey. Smelly cheese. Hard-boiled eggs. Thick, clotted cream.”

En Se glanced at the two players who were eating like dogs. When En Chan raised her head after emptying five bowls, the youth was reaching toward the fifth bowl. His face looked like hell, but it looked like his insides felt more like hell.

“Mushy Bananas. Sharp strawberry yogurt....”

“Upghrgh!”

It may have been that En Se had gone too far. The poor youth dashed to the bathroom with his hand over his mouth. Mr. Hong called after him,

“Hey, be careful not to spill any on the floor.”





































< Part 4 > 9:55 PM : The Epic of the Ring



En Se ran off, leaving the vomiting youth behind.


“Hey, Hae Wook, where are you? Are you done with cram school? Uh huh, I'm nearby right now... Really? Ok, I'll be right there!” After hanging up, she pranced away with a smile on her face.


“Obba, I'm probably coming home pretty late tonight.”


“Ya! Ko En Se!”


The punk, spread out on the chair like a wet mop, kept making vomiting motions like a broken water pump. Still, it couldn't be helped.


After all, En Chan only had a buck fifty in her pocket to call her own.


“Sorry, kid, but a game's a game, right?”


En Chan drank cup after cup of water while the youth, who had become rather pale and haggard, paid for the jja jang myun.


“You want some water, too?” En Chan offered, but the youth only glared at her and left in a huff.


Huh. Guess that did some damage to his pride.


“It doesn't seem like he's a bad kid through and through, though, huh? At least he paid before he left.”


“Yea, that's true. Oh man, am I full,” En Chan patted her stomach as she thanked the owner and left the store. It was evening and the temperature had dropped, and the air was chilly.


Ko En Se, you little hussy. You told me you didn't have a different boy, and see how you run off!


“As the saying goes, you break your teeth on the tofu you trust. Little brat,” En Chan muttered to herself as she walked the night streets alone. “Who's Hae Wook, huh? How many guys is she dating at the same time, for cryin' out loud?” She entered the market still grumbling. She was stepping into the building where her roof apartment was when she heard a thunderous shout.


“Ko En Chan, you little rascal! How dare you leave without even a word!”


“M-m-master....” The eyebrows of the master who stood in the doorway of the dojo waggled. Suddenly, the decapitated Tae Kwon boy, the chaotic image of the children running around eating pizza all came rushing back to her.


“W-well, you see, master, um... I, uh...”


“Hey! Is that my hat? Why are you going around wearing somebody else's neighborhood watch hat?!”


“Ack!” He whipped the hat off of her head.


“You're a really strange one. It doesn't even fit you. Why would you want to wear it around?”


Who said I wanted to wear it around? It's because of the stupid hole in my hair...


It was too dark for the dojo master to tell, but En Chan still self-consciously rubbed at the side of her head.


I can't believe my head is actually cold because of that little hole. I wonder what happened to the Tae Kwon boy's head. I sure hope Seung Kyung put it back on correctly.


“Take this.”


“What is it?”


The dojo master shook the black plastic bag he held in his hand. Oh! My meat! En Chan quickly ran to receive the meat.


“I thought I told you not to go around wearing your practice suit!! You troublemaker!”


“Ow!!” If it came from the dojo master, even a single knuckle sandwich hurt like hell and make her head ring.


“Aiish, Master! What are you trying to do, put a hole in my head?”


“Don't 'aiish' me, you brat! Hurry up and go upstairs. It seemed like your mother was up there alone.”


“Yes, sir.”


“And be sure to lock up tight.”


“Yes, sir. Have a good night!”


“Yea,” said the dojo master as he ruffled En Chan's hair. The place where he had given her a knuckle sandwich still tingled.


“Agh, f....” she climbed the stairs towards her roof apartment. She passed the PC bang and the pool hall and finally reached the roof. The dojo master was the one who had arranged a room for them to live in in this old and decrepit building. It was also the dojo master who had convinced the building owner to let her family pay only the electricity and water bills. He had been marine comrades with En Chan's late father. That was the reason why En Chan's family was always in debt to the master, for the house, for the job, basically for their livelihood itself.


“I'm home.”


“Is that my little prince?”


“Did you have fun at the reunion?” En Chan, who had entered the room, saw her mother who was lying down with a facial mask on. She was, as usual, dressed elegantly in a deep plum home dress.


“A face pack as soon as you come home?”


“If I don't relax my face immediately, it'll get all rough. The wind was so cold and harsh today, it felt like all of my soft skin was going to peel off.”


“Oh, come on, aren't you exaggerating a little?”


“I'm serious! Feel it. Here.” She put En Chan's finger under the paper mask so that she could feel the skin underneath.


“Oh wow, it really is pretty rough. Kind of like sandpaper.”


“Oh my God, really?”


“Kidding, kidding!”


“That's mean! I'm upset about it anyway, don't make me feel worse.”


“What kind of mask is it?”


“Moisture replenishing. Since I can't use better make up, I have to use these more often. The only reason why my skin is this nice is because I take good care of it. Whoever heard of a woman who uses cheap forty, fifty dollar skin lotions like I do having skin this nice? At this age, I mean.”


“You're absolutely right. Madame Na has million-dollar skin, if nothing.”


“Mm it feels so nice and moist. Did you eat dinner? The salad was still in the fridge.”


“I ate before coming home.”


“What did you eat?”


“Jja jang myun.”


“Darling, I thought Mommy told you not to eat that kind of food made out of flour. It's bad for your skin.”


“It couldn't be helped today. What did you eat, Mom?”


“Italian.”


“Oh, you went to the bistro? Must've been delicious.”


En Chan's mouth forgot about the five bowls of jja jang myun and started excreting saliva again.


“It was just so-so today though. All my friends said the food tasted great and ate it all up, but I could tell. I'm pretty sure they changed the chef. The sauce just didn't taste the same.”


“Yea, you're pretty sensitive to that kind of stuff. So you were pretty disappointed, huh?”


“I just accepted it and ate without complaining. But what's this smell? Something stinks.”


“Something stinks?”


En Chan, who had been in the process of taking her jumper off, discovered the brownish yellow stain on the end of her suit top. Oh shit!


“R-really? I-I don't smell anything. What, what kind of sauce was it?”


“Sauce?”


“The, the sauce. Didn't you say it was good the last time you went there?”


“Oh, saffron foam sauce? I didn't have that today. That's with salmon.....” And so began the explanation of En Chan's mother, who had attended professional Italian cooking classes for about five weeks about ten years ago. En Chan gave a sigh of relief as she changed out of her Taekwondo clothes. If her neat-freak mother found out, she probably would've made her change outside.


Simba or Shitba, she wasn't about to let that dog it in the dojo again.


En Chan was furtively rolling up her dojo suit when her mother asked,


“What about about En Se?”


“Sh-she said she's going to be a little late...”


“Again? What's wrong with that kid? Has she got thorns on her bottom or something? Why can't she just sit down for a single hour to study? What's a high school senior doing running around outside and not studying? For crying out loud. Hand me that phone.”


En Chan gave her mother the phone and quickly ran to the bathroom. She put the dojo suit into the washing machine and stepped into the shower. The boiler was running out of hot water, and she shivered as she washed. All throughout her shower, she could hear her mother's voice on the phone. It was apparent by the way her mother's voice grew in volume and roughness that En Se was not about to listen to her mother.


“Ugh, it's like jumping into a frozen lake.”


The thin trickle of water became colder and colder. She hurried to finish and put her clothes on.


“Ah, damn it. How am I supposed to cover this up?” said En Chan worriedly as she dried her hair. She tried to cover the hole with hair, but the empty space couldn't be hidden.


“Bong Tae Won, you've got some skill with scissors. Stupid kid managed to cut so close to the surface.”


She had to do something. If she kept it like this... En Chan pulled out the medicine box from the bathroom counter. She cut a piece of gauze to about the size of the hole and taped it onto her head. She had no choice but to go around like this for a while.


En Chan came out of the bathroom when the phone rang.


“Hello? Oh, Dong Ok? Hi~”


En Chan thought to herself how bright and clear her mother's voice was as she opened the refrigerator door. Occupying the middle spot of honor was a fancy bowl covered with plastic wrap. Inside that bowl was a vegetable assortment the size of a fist, also known as, Pretty Pretty Salad.


People said that En Chan's mother's cooking skills could probably get her a job at an elegant restaurant as a chef. So there was no complaint about the flavor or taste of her cooking. En Chan didn't have any particular complaints either. The only problem was the portion. To En Chan, who wrestled and rolled around with children all day, the portion was pitifully lacking. Her mother couldn't know this and would often say,


“Oh my, En Chan, if you finish all of that, you're going to get fat. People have to eat vegetables to be healthy. Did you know? There's nothing as disgusting as a glutton. Even though I can't make soybean soup or kimchee stew, I'm excellent at making things like spaghetti and salads. Not only that, I can bake cakes and cookies, and what else? Oh yes, seafood risotto, potato soup...”


Mom's cooking was delicious. The flavor was worth all the time and money and effort put into making the food. It was just that En Chan liked traditional Korean chicken broth, bulgogi and grilled bone ribs.


“What? Ring? What ring?”


Suddenly her mother's voice rose sharply. En Chan covered up the band-aid with her hair and went into the room.


“Oh.......... who did, I did? Who said that? Oh, Jin Hyang......... oh...... oh, no no no........” Suddenly her mother got up and started pacing the room restlessly.


“Huh? O-of course. It's, it's safe with me. Uh huh. Of course.” Her mother, who had just crawled a lap around the room, started patting and sweeping the floor with her hand. En Chan looked at her mother, who was wearing an expression as if she'd burst out crying.


“What's wrong, Mom?”


“O-ok... I-I'll keep it safe. Huh? Wh-when? F-five days? My, that must be tough. Anyway, have a good time. Uh huh. Ok. Bye.” As soon as she hung up, she grabbed En Chan.


“Have you seen a ring?”


“What ring?”


“Did you see one or not? Oh my God, what am I going to do? That ring... that ring...”


“What? What about the ring?”


“I was wearing it, wearing it right here. It's a diamond ring.... It-It's gotta be around here somewhere, right? Right?”