March Novel (Completed) - Chapter 92

“Want to hear something amazing? The air quality is so bad right now that this is actually less hot?”

The lower the district number, the worse the environment. The heat in District 2 was incomparable to District 4. Even though wearing a gas mask in this weather was a bit inconvenient, some people even said it was fortunate that the dense, murky blackness in the sky reduced the scorching heat.

“Young man, are you in?”

“Ah, yes!”

Sehwa hastily put on his gas mask and slightly opened the closed window. Just a tiny bit, so bad air wouldn’t rush in too much, so New Sprout wouldn’t suffer. It might look suspicious, but he wanted to avoid showing his face as much as possible.

“What’s wrong?”

“Huh? Why was the window open?”

Song, a senior employee at the restaurant, frowned and covered his mouth.

“Ah… I washed my clothes, and since there was no ventilation, they smelled musty.”

“Even so… what if something bad gets on your clothes? It’s not good for your health.”

Song clicked his tongue, telling him to use the old dryer behind the break room later. As a bonus, he advised him to steal a little detergent or fabric softener from the cupboard on the far right, which the boss sometimes used. Song, who had worked there for a long time, knew everything.

“Is the work manageable?”

“Of course.”

Sehwa was in charge of inspecting lunchboxes for delivery. It was so easy he wondered if he deserved to be paid for such work. All he had to do was check if any side dishes were missing, then put in the packaged soup and cutlery. That was it.

He didn’t even have to stand. Although it was a corner, Sehwa’s spot, neither hot nor cold, was considered the best place in the kitchen, even by other long-term employees.

An easy job, sitting comfortably, paying well… Of course, he found it suspicious. He had suddenly moved accommodations because similar paying jobs were popping up like mushrooms.

After much thought, Sehwa felt uneasy and decided to move elsewhere.

He scurried around like a grasshopper, moving between a couple of inns, and then, after about two more days, cautiously showed his face at a nearby labor office. But suspicious job postings were plastered all over the walls of this office too.

As he stared in confusion, a man standing nearby clicked his tongue, saying these were common postings these days. After the fire, countless civil servants, including soldiers and police, were coming and going in District 2, and they were urgently looking for meticulous people because those high-ranking individuals were extremely picky about their food. The man’s face, expressing regret that someone like him couldn’t even dream of such a position, seemed genuine enough.

And that sweet livelihood once again fell to Sehwa. His hands were pale and seemed capable, so he was less likely to make mistakes than the old men who just tried to slack off.

The office worker repeatedly emphasized that even though it seemed like nothing, many restaurants had been fined due to the fuss made by higher-ups, and he had to do well.

He understood why easy jobs like lunchbox inspection were appearing and why labor office staff particularly favored him… but an unsettling feeling lingered. A hand like this, that fit so perfectly, was bound to cause trouble if he took it.

Sehwa no longer believed in luck. Good things that came his way always hid thorns. The better they looked on the surface, the harder they would ultimately make him cry.

Of course, he really likes this restaurant now. He could save on rent and food expenses, so money accumulated faster than expected. Most of all, it was comfortable for his body. He could use the air conditioner without paying extra management fees and wash with warm water as much as he wanted.

So he tried hard to ignore the premonitions, suspicions, and instincts that kept rising. He wondered if he could just pretend not to know, endure here, and then go meet Commander Oh Seonran. He wanted to ask her to take care of things and then sleep peacefully… He tried to deceive himself.

It was thanks to New Sprout that he managed to get his lazy body up, which kept wanting to sit down. This wasn’t just about feeding himself. He had even given the child a grand prenatal name, so he had to take responsibility.

After much hesitation, Sehwa finally subtly mentioned to Song yesterday if there was anyone who could swap jobs with him, but the new workplace had to pay more.

“My younger brother, who I know, is disembarking in three days. He asked if you’d be interested in taking his place?”

“Disembarking… so, working on a ship?”

“Yeah, you know those really big cargo ships that carry containers? He’s doing odd jobs in the kitchen of one of those big ships.”

“Will I be cooking there?”

“That’s right. The people working there need to eat too. You’ll cook and clean the kitchen…”

“It’s similar to what I’m doing now. I like it.”

“Like it? It pays more, but it’s not as easy as inspecting lunchboxes. If I were you, young man, I’d stick it out here until they kick me out. If I needed more money, I’d go to a factory or construction site on my days off.”

Song slapped Sehwa’s back a few times, not painfully, saying there was no work as tough as being on a ship, even if it wasn’t a fishing boat. As a bonus, he grumbled that he was young and naive.

“I think being on the sea would be better than District 2 with its bad air. You don’t even wear a gas mask there.”

“I’m worried you’ll resent me. Even if you say you hate being on a ship and want your old spot back, you won’t be able to undo it then, so think carefully.”

“It’s really okay. I… I dislike District 2 more.”

As Song said, it wasn’t a small fishing boat but a huge cargo ship, so the division of labor would be pretty clear. They probably wouldn’t suddenly tell him to drive a forklift or carry pallets. Besides, if he had to prepare three meals a day and clean, he’d be stuck in the kitchen all day, so he might not have to interact with others much, right? Since it was a large scale, there would probably be doctors or nurses for emergencies too… Even if it was physically tougher than now, the conditions themselves were perfect for Sehwa.

“I want to work hard in a high-paying place and pay off my debts quickly.”

When he even brought up the debt, which was now ambiguously flowing, Song only sighed deeply.

“Oh dear. You’re just barely over twenty, it seems…”

District 4 was like that too, but the lives of people in District 2 were generally similar. A heavy debt, whose origin they couldn’t even remember, weighed on their shoulders, and despite working themselves to death, the amount rarely decreased. Even without exchanging past stories, he suspected Song was in a similar situation.

“You said you’re not from District 2, right? Me neither.”

It seemed he was right. Song slumped his shoulders and slowly began to recount his past. There was nothing easier to build rapport over than the sadness of debt that wasn’t your fault.

“…Anyway, while all that was happening, my son went crazy with gambling and took out a huge private loan. His dad and I kept it quiet, but the interest piled up like a mountain…”

At the word “gambling,” Sehwa swallowed hard, feeling a pang of guilt.

“You never know what life will throw at you. I never dreamed I’d be living like this in my later years…”

Song had been called “Madam” and was a four-star person, and she said she could see a shallow river from her house.

“…You were.”

“Life is so capricious… Anyway, I’ll let you know again the day before the ship comes in.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Oh, aren’t you going to show your ID this time either? If not, they’ll deduct 30% from your pay there too.”

“No, I think I can get one.”

Naturally, on his first day at the restaurant, Sehwa couldn’t submit any documents. When he mumbled that the debt collectors had taken his resident registration card, the boss just stroked his chin, saying, “Is that so?” It was a common tactic for loan sharks to tie up someone’s name, and since a few existing employees were in similar situations, he didn’t seem to suspect much. Instead, 30% was deducted from his daily wage.

“You got that fake, didn’t you?”

“…Yes.”

“Good job. It’s just a cover-up, but… it’s better than nothing at all. It means you have the ability to get something like this, and information too. Sailors are rough. It’s not good to be underestimated.”

Sehwa agreed. Not being able to show his resident registration card or provide a bank account number meant he had many weaknesses. Even if he had to receive his daily wages in cash, he felt he needed to prepare a fake ID. This was why, even with a little more financial余裕, he took on all sorts of odd jobs and diligently looked for other work on his days off.

“Alright then, I’ll keep that in mind. Oh, and… could you keep this a secret from the other employees until you leave? About us conspiring like this behind their backs. There are more than a few people who’ve been eyeing that spot, wondering when you’d quit.”

Song added awkwardly, saying that the one who quickly snags someone is the winner.

“It’s for a younger brother I owe a debt to from when I came down to District 2 with nothing. He’s also the type who prefers earning a lot of money over comfortable work… but I want him to catch his breath a bit when he disembarks this time.”

“No, it’s fine. I was actually worried because I look young and don’t get much work. I’m more grateful that you looked out for me.”

He meant it. He had been wondering how to naturally bring up keeping it a secret from others, but thanks to Song mentioning it first, he could let it pass naturally.

“By the way, it’s such a waste. Your neck and the back of your hands are so fair and pretty. No matter how much they stay cooped up in the kitchen, once they get on a ship, everyone gets completely tanned.”

Song, who was about to turn away, unnecessarily squeezed and released Sehwa’s hand a few times. At first, it seemed like an awkward gesture, but later, she genuinely admired and massaged various parts of his hand.

“Oh my… how can your skin be like this? Don’t let the old men see it before you leave. They might get jealous and make you do all the dishes.”

“Haha… I’d do it if they paid me more.”

“Tsk, you’re silly. Well, I’ll see you later then.”

“Yes, please go in.”

Sehwa locked the door and closed the window he had opened. As soon as he took off his gas mask, sweat dripped from his forehead and neck.

Then, he suddenly stared at his fingernails, which had turned reddish from gripping the gas mask.

Gi Taejeong liked his pale body. He found his nipples, penis, anus, and even his fingernails and toenails fascinating. The same went for his pale skin that left marks when gripped.

He hoped Song’s words would come true. He hoped his hair would become messy and his skin would tan nicely from the sea breeze, that it would become rough and tough from hard work… So that nothing Gi Taejeong had liked would remain.

Sehwa leaned his back against the locked door and hugged his knees. He was tired, but sleep wouldn’t come.

At night, Gi Taejeong’s phantom image appeared tirelessly. The man sometimes acted terrifying, as if he would drag him away immediately, and sometimes he gently stroked his face as if he would do anything if only he asked. He sometimes looked scornful, as if he’d seen all sorts of ridiculous things, and sometimes he wore a small smile.

After being tormented by such hallucinations, whether nightmares or sleep paralysis, in the end, a glass greenhouse always unfolded. It was the place where Sehwa had decided to let go of everything and accept Gi Taejeong. He would gaze at him crying sorrowfully and then softly call out, “Lee Sehwa.” At such times, the damp smell of the blanket would instantly vanish, and only the man’s warmth and scent, which always held him tightly, remained.

“…Now that I think about it, it’s cool. New Sprout, you’re going to be a tree that grows in the sea, not on land. The sea… the sea, I haven’t even seen it properly myself…”

Sehwa shook his head slightly to push away the overflowing memories. Then, forcing a smile, he carefully brought out the shallow knowledge he had about the sea.

“The sea is a vast place full of saltwater… and it’s incredibly deep. Fish live down there too…”

Every time he recited those clumsy words, the fear of going out into the vast ocean, the terror that even such clumsy escape would be impossible there, sent a chilling shiver down his spine. Even if he hid it now, he would eventually be found out about the child… What would happen then? Would he be able to get off the ship safely? Would he be abandoned on a beach, or at a distant port, because he became a nuisance?

“It’ll be really cool. Even just seeing it from afar…”

Sehwa deliberately babbled about absurd hopes to overcome his fear, then soon lowered his head. The moment he fell into the deep blue water with Gi Taejeong, the refreshing hologram they had seen together at the department store, poured down like a bombardment, shattering his already pulverized heart again and again.

• If I don’t appear within 10 minutes, get up immediately. Then move clockwise from the first designated location, and if no one appears at the new location, let’s meet again the next day. I will do the same.

Gi Taejeong listened to Oh Seonran’s crackling voice and checked the map in the hologram. It was a new habit he’d developed since Lee Sehwa ran away.

The fence he had apprehended immediately handed over everything he had as soon as he confirmed Gi Taejeong’s rank. In particular, he respectfully offered his phone and a voice recorder as if presenting a tribute, saying that all the information he might be curious about was there. He also pleaded for mercy, saying he had only managed to grab a few badges that allowed him to travel between ports.

A badge. It was an item Gi Taejeong had casually given Lee Sehwa at the District 1 shelter, without much thought. He thought it wouldn’t be bad to keep it. But the item he had given was being used as a means to escape him. And this… this really made one feel like crap.

“Sir, Brigadier General. Three weeks from now is literally tomorrow.”

As Gi Taejeong looked at the District 2 map every day without issuing any related orders, Master Sergeant Choi cautiously asked.

“Are you planning to assign people here too…?”

The location Oh Seonran had designated was neither too far nor too close to the restaurant where Lee Sehwa was currently staying. It was a distance where he could sufficiently restrain him, or potentially lose him if a commotion occurred… a distance where it wouldn’t hurt to act cautiously.

“What is Lee Sehwa doing now?”

“It’s almost time for the evening lunchbox inspection. However…”

“However?”

“He’s working quietly… but it seems he’s trying to contact a professional to create a forged ID.”

Lieutenant Park hesitated, glancing nervously at his superior. If he was even trying to forge an ID, he was undoubtedly planning something soon. And Gi Taejeong looked like he had no patience left.

“…This much hide-and-seek is enough.”

Gi Taejeong, his face so sharp it seemed it could cut, stared unblinkingly at the District 2 map floating before him.

“Force Lee Sehwa to move from the restaurant he’s working at now to here… the place he’s supposed to meet Oh Seonran.”

No more, truly no more.

“If a physical confrontation occurs with Commander Oh Seonran then…”

He felt he couldn’t bear Lee Sehwa’s absence.

“That won’t happen.”

Something dark and deep surged and then receded in the man’s eyes as he spoke decisively.

“Lee Sehwa will plead with Oh Seonran, with his own mouth, to remain by my side.”