Diamond Dust Novel - Chapter 5 Golden

The escape was more meticulously planned than I had anticipated. Everything was executed to avoid people we knew directly.

The vehicle we used to get to Seoul was a one-ton truck on the verge of being scrapped, sourced from someone the surf company hyung knew. The arrangement was that once we parked the car at a prearranged location in Seoul, the owner, who would follow by express bus, would retrieve it.

After that, a senior who had been Hyung’s mentor during his military service introduced us to a private investigation agency. We only stayed in a motel for the first two nights, and through the agency, we immediately secured a room.

We had left a letter implying that if they tried to find us before we contacted them, we were prepared to escalate to more drastic resistance, even self-harm. Even so, the probability of Morae’s family inquiring about our whereabouts was not negligible. No, it was very high.

To prepare for that, we needed the help of a professional, the investigation agency, to move while erasing our tracks as much as possible.

The head of the agency, who was a senior from Hyung’s military mentor’s hometown, didn’t look like someone who worked in that line of business, at least on the surface. Purely based on appearance, the surf company boss looked far more like a “private investigator.”

“Don’t touch the money in the bank accounts. We will take over that money as is. For us… we can just clean it a few times and withdraw it. We’ll give you the equivalent in cash, so only use cash, unconditionally. I don’t need to tell you not to use your credit cards, right? These days, even normal people have that much common sense from watching too many movies.”

Complaining that his job was getting tougher because clients watched a few movies and then tried to boss the experts around, the director brought out cash equivalent to the savings Hyung and Morae had collected from his safe.

The money Hyung had saved by not spending or buying anything for about a year after graduating high school until his enlistment, combined with Morae’s childhood allowance savings, was a substantial sum.

“Why? Does it look small in person? Should I count it out in 10,000-won bills to make it feel better?”

The director gave a smirk toward us, who had been sitting stiffly in tension. Even though he was wearing a neat suit and had his hair neatly styled like an office worker, it was moments like that which reminded me he was a person working in the underworld.

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

However, that money went entirely toward finding a room, without having to be hidden deep in a drawer or under the floorboards.

It was a large sum for us, but all that money could get us in Seoul was a basement or a rooftop apartment. Basements and rooftops were equally bad in that they were hot in the summer and cold in the winter, but we agreed that the rooftop was better because we could at least see the sun.

We were relieved by the director’s assurance that we could stay here for at least one to two years without being discovered, even though it was far from the subway station and required navigating a steep set of stairs to reach the bus stop.

A guarantee that this escape wouldn’t end as a trivial act of defiance.

For now, that was enough.

Since we had no extra money, the furnishings filling the small, one-room rooftop were limited to collapsible storage boxes for clothes, bedding, and a few truly essential kitchen items. Morae’s take was that it was nice because it made the room look more spacious.

It had been about three weeks since we finished moving.

Perhaps the meticulous preparation was effective, but so far, our daily life was settling in without any signs of threat. I started my part-time job at the moving company less than a week after the move, and Morae and Hyung already had jobs lined up.

‘A Scene in Bali’.

The cafe, located deep within a residential area instead of a pricey commercial district, lived up to its name, evoking a free and relaxed Southern beach. Hyung’s military mentor, who introduced us to the investigation agency, was the cafe owner. Hyung was the kitchen assistant, and Morae was in charge of the hall.

After the dinner service was over, the owner would share the leftover ingredients for the day, and Hyung would practice cooking the cafe’s menu items at home.

Sitting on the wooden deck that had been on the rooftop edge since we moved in, drinking a can of beer with the food Hyung cooked, and talking about the day’s events was one of our daily routines now.

We were still too young to simply be called ‘young,’ and we didn’t care about the noise from the newlywed couple downstairs, who fought like they were at war almost every day, or the fact that our poor rooftop room was guaranteed to become a steam bath in the middle of summer.

Although the climb of exactly 62 stairs was tough, the night view of Seoul from up here wasn’t cold or arrogant. It looked like the lights of squid fishing boats floating far out on the sea, or it brought to mind The Starry Night in Arles.

The freedom of being liberated from something, vague worry, an unnecessary flutter in my chest, and the anxiety of being chased. These were the days when all these emotions quietly intertwined and swayed within me.

“So, who was that person?”

Morae asked, showing interest in my story about the day’s events.

“She’s a friend of my mother’s sister… she was my art teacher briefly when I was little.”

A subtle expression crossed both their faces at the mention of someone connected to my parents, but it quickly faded.

“And you just met her again like that? That’s amazing. If you sent that story to a radio show, you might win a gift certificate.”

Morae said this as she gathered the last mouthful of Nasi Goreng remaining on her plate onto her spoon. Despite Morae’s effort to lighten the mood, Hyung’s expression was still slightly tense.

“She knew about our family situation because she heard it from my aunt.”

“…Did she?”

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

“She’s been working in Hong Kong and came back to Korea about four years ago. She currently works at a private gallery.”

“A gallery? If she taught you art and now works at a gallery, she must have been in the art world the whole time.”

Morae, who had chewed the last bite of Nasi Goreng thoroughly, swallowed the food before replying.

“I guess so. She said she has three consecutive exhibition schedules lined up right now, so she doesn’t have time to focus on her house. When I went to move her things, the place was genuinely a mess.”

I answered, lightly swirling the beer can in my hand, which was about one-third full. I drank a little more beer than usual today. Perhaps because of that, I felt a slight flush in my cheeks, even though the wind was pleasant.

“Are you going to do it?”

It was Morae’s question, implying she hoped I would accept the teacher’s offer.

“I’m still not sure.”

“If seeing her face makes things difficult for you, you don’t have to do it.”

This was Hyung’s comment, worried that it might needlessly stir up old wounds.

However, seeing the teacher’s face didn’t make me feel distressed. On the contrary, the honest emotion that first popped up when I recognized her was delight. Her face wasn’t connected to painful memories.

“Seo Yihyun, you’re practically a god when it comes to organizing. She didn’t offer to help you out just because she knows your situation; she genuinely needed someone and you were the right person for the job. If you’re worried about inconveniencing her, don’t. That would be more rude to her. Just follow your heart.”

Morae, having finished her meal, said that before taking a big, refreshing gulp of the beer she had saved.

“Oh, right.”

I answered that way, but it wasn’t easy to pinpoint where my heart was leading me.

“Morae and I are both working, and money isn’t that urgent right now, so take your time to decide comfortably.”

“Okay.”

Hyung seemed a little more cautious than Morae. People have different ways of reacting to and coping with trauma, after all…

The next day, I had to be in Gwangjin-gu by 7 a.m. It was time to wrap things up for tomorrow. I needed to fall into a deep sleep quickly before the newlywed couple downstairs started shouting at each other.

Opening the flimsy front door, which looked like it would fall off if a reasonably strong adult man shook it hard a few times (whether it actually would or not), revealed a narrow kitchen space, barely enough for two people to lie down side-by-side, and beyond the sliding doors that could open on both sides was the room.

The investigation agency director, who had shown us this room on behalf of the landlord who had returned to farming somewhere in Jeolla-do, had emphasized that it was a “sort of separated studio apartment.”

Morae and Hyung were beyond the door, and I was in the kitchen. We spread our sleeping mats dividing the space that way.

The two had strongly objected, asking why I would insist on sleeping in the kitchen when there was room in the bedroom, and if I was trying to make them look like trash. But I just wanted to preserve that much for them.

Even if they didn’t act like a couple in front of me, I knew their relationship wasn’t just about comfortable companionship.

“Yihyun-ah, just sleep in the room with us. Noona’s cool, you know?”

Morae, who was watching me unroll my bedding in the kitchen, leaning against the frame of the open sliding door, threw out the same line today.

I sat on the soft new sleeping mat, hugged a pillow, and looked up at her with a deliberately playful expression.

“Noona.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m cool, too. I’ll just sleep here.”

Morae chuckled. Then she smiled warmly, her eyes full of affection. She disappeared beyond the door with a goodnight wish.

However, we couldn’t continue living with just a single door between us like this. Even if it was fine in the warm season now, the cold air would seep in through the flimsy front door as soon as autumn arrived. I also didn’t want the two of them to keep worrying and feeling sorry for me.

Although I knew their escape wasn’t just an elopement but a kind of struggle to live authentically, I disliked that they still couldn’t freely express even physical affection despite having seized this hard-won freedom and opportunity to love each other wholeheartedly.

I had followed their suggestions up until this point, but I needed to arrange a plan for my future life myself.

Lying on my back with my hands clasped behind my head, I could hear Hyung and Morae quietly talking beyond the sliding door, which was divided into square frames like chocolate bars, each filled with opaque glass. I couldn’t make out the details of their conversation.

I had answered that I wasn’t sure what to do about their offer, but I was clearly aware that this wasn’t the time to be picky. I had to do whatever I could for money first.

Lying down to sleep, closing my eyes, the fact that I couldn’t hear the sound of the waves made me realize how far we, how far I, had come.