Diamond Dust Novel - Chapter 17

And perhaps that was the critical impetus for my decision to move into the teacher’s house.

If I didn’t decide on my path, they would probably be unable to leave easily, even after all their preparations were complete. And perhaps, they might even propose that I leave with them again. They probably would.

I had come this far with them, but I couldn’t continue to postpone the choice of my journey, like a separate appendix to their lives, in the same way. Even if I were to choose to leave with them, it couldn’t be an alternative I chose because I didn’t know what else to do. I knew that much clearly.

That was the one thing I had vowed and prepared for since the rainy dawn when I walked out the gate with Hyung, leaving behind the father who didn’t try to stop me.

Juhan Hyung, who was outed by a despicable method and virtually disowned by his family (the trauma of having his most private and secret self exposed to his parents was hard to even imagine), Yuni Noona, who, though I didn’t hear the details, had her difficult journey toward her dream frustrated by her parents, of all people, at the moment she was finally able to take a step forward, and Morae and Hyung, the people most intimate to me, were also paying a heavy price for an innocent choice.

I was not the only one who had been wounded, tossed around, and mocked by the unprovoked malice of life, regardless of my own will.

Even the Director of Phantom, who seemed able to bring whatever he desired to his side with a flick of his finger, must have dragged Phantom to its current position by enduring insults like ‘Satan’ and ‘male prostitute who sells art with his body.’

An attack that suddenly intrudes into life.

Whether to overcome it, to sink down, shackled by it, or to accept it as part of oneself, like an eleventh finger or a large hump on one’s side. Now, it was time for me to decide my own attitude.

As far as I knew, Morae and Hyung, and Yuni Noona and Juhan Hyung, were people who fought back against the attack. Although the direction and color of their responses differed, they were similar in that you couldn’t find the gloomy scars of a harsh tackle on their faces.

However, the texture of the Phantom Director was different from theirs.

From the offhand comment Juhan Hyung tossed out, I could guess that he wasn’t a prince who had only known dazzling glory, despite his sleek appearance. If so, was he not a person who had overcome life’s attack, but one who lived carrying it as part of himself? Like being bitten by a zombie and becoming a zombie himself?

He often treated me with a sensitive vigilance, but at other times, he completely ignored me, as if I were a trivial being incapable of harming anyone, no matter how hard I tried.

The fluctuation that rose in my chest whenever he provoked me with his inconsiderate gaze and words was not sharp enough to be called defiance, nor was it so weak that it could be dismissed as simple disappointment.

Originally, I was the type of person who would simply turn away when someone yelled or got angry at me. Had I misunderstood myself all this time?

“Noona, do I like things that are unusual?”

Perhaps someone else would know an aspect of myself that I had misunderstood or missed. I asked Morae, filling the paper more densely.

“You are kind of like that, aren’t you?”

“Me?”

I instinctively questioned her unexpected answer, and Morae lifted her head from my shoulder and looked into my face.

“You like Maenggu the best out of all the Jjanggu characters. Not many people are like that, right? And your t-shirts. You always wear stripes, don’t you? They’re all stripes, just short-sleeved in the summer and long-sleeved in the winter. You’re subtly unique. There are a lot of unique people among those who draw, too.”

“It’s been ages since I drew…”

“Ah… so you’re not drawing right now, but writing, then?”

Embarrassed by her accurate observation, I pressed my lips together, smiled, and averted my gaze. This is just doodling…

“Then… am I the type that likes to be tormented?”

“What kind of things have you been hearing to talk like this? Are you talking about being a masochist?”

“What? Who taught you that kind of word?”

Hyung, who was coming out of the kitchen with a plate of Nasi Goreng, frowned at the word ‘masochist.’

Morae and Hyung had called me to ‘A Scene in Bali’ to have a small farewell party, as the next day was my move-in date at the teacher’s house. It felt awkward to have a farewell party when I wasn’t quitting my job or transferring schools, but even though I pretended not to attach any deep meaning to it, I felt just as sad about this separation.

Hyung’s eyes narrowed, looking as though he might go find the person who taught me harmful words like ‘masochist’ and grab them by the collar immediately.

“What if someone taught him words like that? He’s a full-grown adult. Whatever two consenting people do under the covers is absolutely the private freedom of their domain.”

That was Morae’s protest.

Regardless of how much Morae and Hyung thought of me as a rare species disconnected from the world, I was old enough to know words like sadist or masochist just from hearing them here and there; no one needed to specifically teach them to me.

I took the spoon Hyung offered and pressed Morae for an answer.

“So, Noona… am I like that?”

I knew I couldn’t expect an objective answer from Hyung anyway.

“Hmm, rather than enjoying it, you seem more like the type who just doesn’t care about being tormented. You’re the type who makes tormenting not very rewarding because you don’t react.”

I agreed with Morae’s assessment. Until now, I had lived, assuming myself to be that kind of person, a bit dull and indifferent. At least, a person who had devolved in that way.

But my recent reaction was unfamiliar even to me.

“I’m gay, you know.”

That impertinent remark, which was almost a provocation, was something hard to expect from the old me.

“Why? Does someone tormenting you make you feel a tingly thrill?”

Morae, leaning her elbows on the table, moved her upper body closer to me as I was about to take a bite. Her face was full of mischief and curiosity.

“No… not exactly.”

There were moments when it felt sharp, like being pricked under the fingernail with a needle, but it was different from a thrill. It was similar to the feeling of my whole body rolling and lifting, like going over a speed bump without slowing down. I even felt a childish desire to take his hand and prick under his fingernail with the tip of a needle.

Just as his attitude toward me wasn’t consistent, it was hard for me to attribute the reason for my reaction to a single cause.

The returning hunger stole any remaining energy for thought. I started eating hastily, and Morae and Hyung organized the day’s sales slips beside me.

The owner of ‘A Scene in Bali,’ who was said to enjoy travel and surfing in Bali whenever he earned a certain amount of money from running the cafe, had been gone since last week, so Morae and Hyung were currently acting as the café’s managers.

When my plate was almost empty, Hyung spoke in a noticeably softer voice than before.

“Even if you move out, come visit. Come here, and come to the house too.”

“Of course. I’ll come and chatter so much it’ll annoy you. Where else do I have to pour out my stories besides here?”

“That’s funny. You’re not exactly a chatterbox.”

Hyung chuckled and playfully chided me, and I smiled back in agreement.

“You have to come at least once a week, minimum. Got it? And send one text message every single day.”

This time, it was Morae’s demand, which I knew was made out of concern that I might feel lonely, not for herself. I nodded vigorously, and Morae smiled.

That day, we drank samgyeopsal (pork belly) and soju (Korean distilled spirit) at ‘A Scene in Bali,’ and then drank more beer at home. It was a small luxury for us, the first time we’d indulged since coming to Seoul. It was also the first time I’d drunk until I was more than just buzzed, I was actually drunk.

Morae and Hyung told me the next day that I become very agreeable and laugh a lot when drunk, which was news to me. Hyung claimed I even kissed Morae on the cheek, and he playfully kicked my backside with his knee, asserting his right as Morae’s boyfriend, a rare occurrence.

Although it wasn’t much of a move, I had still cleared my moving company schedule for the day I was relocating. We ate breakfast together, packed all my belongings into a single backpack, left the house with Morae and Hyung, and separated at the bus stop. I headed south to the teacher’s house, and Morae and Hyung headed west to ‘A Scene in Bali’ for work.

The rooftop room and ‘A Scene in Bali’ were within a distance that I could visit any time I wanted, but now they would become places that I would have to decide to visit.

Riding the bus and watching the streetscape recede, I felt strange about the fact that I was moving somewhere alone, separated from Hyung and Morae. It felt less like moving and more like setting off on a journey. A very long journey.