Lost in thought, Hyungnam shifted her eyes toward the driver, who was shouting at the top of his lungs.
A boy was arguing with him at the bus stop. His hair stuck up like a bird's nest, and he was so filthy that grime seemed to run off him. He couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen. Wearing a cardboard sign that read HELP US, the boy ignored the driver and marched up the bus steps.
“Mister, I'm a passenger too, you know. Huh? I'm paying my fare fair and square.”
“Fuck, you little beggar, you sure got a mouth on you! Hey, there ain't even any passengers for you to shake down!”
“Quit calling me a beggar, will ya? Makes a beggar feel like shit hearing that.”
The boy glared at the driver with blazing eyes, then ostentatiously dropped a student bus ticket into the fare box.
It fluttered lightly as it fell.
Which student's wallet had he stolen that ticket from?
The boy brazenly hauled a smaller child aboard as well. His little brother, apparently. The child looked about five, and his clothes were every bit as filthy as his brother's.
Once the two boys had taken up their familiar positions in the middle of the bus, the driver muttered another curse and reluctantly shut the doors.
Hyungnam's gaze settled on the younger one. He had bright black eyes and a clever little face. The instant the bus lurched into motion, he began singing in a bold, ringing voice.
“Whooo doesn't knooow this persooon—”
“Like a thirsty deer—searching for a well—”
Neither brother seemed to lack for lung power.
While the older boy rattled off a practiced speech, the little one sang without stopping. At the same time, he unzipped a waist pouch nearly half as big as his torso and began rummaging around for packs of Lotte chewing gum.
“If you would show a little mercy—to us two poor brothers—with the bitter winter coming—”
“The one who swore with me—beside the river—”
“Even if my bones should die and die again—a hundred deaths and a hundred more—we shall never forget your kindness—”
The more impassioned the older brother's appeal became, the closer the younger one's singing rose toward its climax.
The tiny child moved through the rattling bus without stumbling once, expertly placing a pack of gum on each passenger's lap.
The passengers deliberately turned their heads to avoid meeting his eyes. As long as they didn't touch the merchandise, the boys would collect it again on their way back.
It was an unspoken rule between bus peddlers and their customers.
Hyungnam was another passenger who had no intention of buying anything.
She kept her forehead against the rattling window and pretended not to notice, but a pack of gum landed on her lap with a soft thump.
When she glanced down, she caught sight of dirty little fingertips disappearing after dropping off a bright yellow pack of Juicy Fresh.
A faint headache stirred behind her eyes as she stared at the gum.
Then, one after another, she thought of Heejung at the Guro Industrial Complex, suffering from pulmonary tuberculosis; Jinok riding around on a scooter with a thermos and packets of instant coffee; and the dirt beneath the little boy's fingernails.
Compared with them, wasn't she living in a sewer that was practically luxurious?
Hyungnam had warm meals, a place to lie down, and a salary that arrived regularly and was more generous than what most maids received.
When you're struggling to survive, what difference does it make where the money comes from? Other people aren't even guaranteed this much.
Think of Queen Jeongsun. You're better off than a queen from the Joseon dynasty.
Having steeled herself, Hyungnam called to the child.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
The little boy, no bigger than a bean, stopped singing and scampered over.
The first things she noticed were his long eyelashes and his cheeks, chapped but clearly fair beneath the grime.
Born into a comfortable family, he would have grown up a beautiful, much-loved child.
Hyungnam took her wallet out of her pocket.
She hesitated until the very last moment, then withdrew the green banknote Choi Eunhyung had given her for his cigarettes.
“Here.”
The little boy's eyes widened.
Even his older brother abruptly stopped his booming speech.
When the child hesitated to take the bill and kept glancing at his brother, Hyungnam caught his dirty hand and forcibly pressed the money into it.
“Go on. Take it.”
“Big brother…”
“And keep the change, okay?”
The older boy, who had been watching his brother with a grave expression, took a long step toward them.
Then he abruptly addressed Hyungnam in a rough voice.
“You got a hundred won?”
“Huh?”
“The gum costs a hundred won.”
The bus braked sharply amid another stream of curses from the driver.
Even so, the older boy remained perfectly upright, while the little one turned the crisp new banknote over and over in his hands, apparently fascinated by it.
Hyungnam hurried to explain.
“Um, I got paid today, you see. Just pretend your big sister's buying you some black-bean noodles.”
“Fuck. You think we're actual beggars or something?”
The older boy's clear, ringing curse echoed through the bus.
Startled passengers turned to stare.
Hyungnam was so flustered that she could only stammer. The boy snatched the banknote from his little brother's hand and waved it in front of her face.
“Fuck, you're barely wearing anything but rags yourself. Who the hell are you to give us charity?”
“No, it's not charity…”
“Well, look at that. A brand-new bill. What are you, a pickpocket?”
Fuck. Who the fuck does she think she is?
The boy kept swearing, and Hyungnam's lips slowly closed.
She didn't know what to say.
She couldn't bring herself to insist that it wasn't charity, that she hadn't meant it that way at all.
“Fucking bitch. Look at those pale eyes. You're a half-breed, aren't you? Some whore who screws foreigners?”
At those words, her throat finally constricted.
Hyungnam's gaze sank steadily toward the floor.
“We don't take money from whores. Stinks like your cunt's rotting.”
“Big broooother.”
“Mindong, we're getting off. Goddamn it, our first sale of the day's already cursed.”
The older boy spat sharply onto the bus floor and pressed the bell.
The driver opened the doors as though he'd been waiting for the chance.
The little boy lingered, reluctant to leave, so his brother scooped him up without ceremony and carried him off the bus.
Once the commotion had departed, an awkward silence settled over the vehicle.
Hyungnam couldn't take her eyes off the brothers' retreating figures.
“…”
The little one, practically being dragged along by his brother's hand, turned around and gave Hyungnam a small wave goodbye.
She weakly waved back.
He must have wanted those black-bean noodles.
Heat gathered behind her eyes, and her nose began to sting.
Hyungnam lowered her waving hand and bowed her head.
Then she carefully smoothed out the badly crumpled new banknote and put it back into her wallet.
You're better people than I am.
Even with a little child barely old enough to wipe his own nose, you're living like human beings.
I told myself I was better fed than you, and then I had the nerve to offer you the scraps from the filthy drain I eat out of.
I did that.
Hyungnam put her wallet back into her pocket and began scratching her arm through her sleeve.
Scratch. Scratch, scratch.
As though she could scrape away the stench of sewage clinging to her skin, she scratched again and again, almost convulsively.
***
She had boarded the bus without a destination, so she got off wherever she happened to be.
When she came to her senses, she was standing in front of Bosingak.
When did I come all the way down here?
Hyungnam crossed the street in a daze and went to the bus stop on the opposite side.
Then she boarded a bus with the same route number.
She retraced the long journey she had just made.
It must have been time for school to let out, because students crowded aboard at every stop until the bus was packed to bursting.
The interior quickly grew noisy.
Hyungnam stole glances at the students chatting animatedly around her.
They wore school badges pinned to their uniform collars like shields, laughing like little songbirds.
Suddenly, Hyungnam looked down at the sleeve of the arm she had raised to hold the overhead strap.
The ribbed cuff was frayed and full of holes. The stitching had come apart so badly that calling the jacket quilted seemed almost ridiculous.
You're barely wearing anything but rags yourself. Who the hell are you to give us charity?
Remembering the boy's furious voice, Hyungnam felt hollow.
He's right.
It really does look like a rag.
Anyone could see that I'm the real beggar.
Hyungnam deliberately got off three stops early.
Part of her wanted to walk and breathe the cold air, and there was a reasonably large grocery store here.
The upper neighborhood, lined with expensive houses, didn't have so much as a corner shop. She intended to buy the cigarettes and pick up a few things for dinner while she was at it.
A man was sitting on the wooden platform outside the grocery store, puffing steadily on a cigarette.
Beside him stood a half-empty pale-blue bottle of soju.
He was a young man Hyungnam had never seen in the neighborhood before.
She gave him a quick glance and slipped into the store.
When she emerged carrying a plastic bag containing tofu and potatoes, the man was bent forward as though in pain, his head hanging low.
A long column of ash clung to the tip of his cigarette, looking ready to fall at any moment.
You really see all kinds of people drinking in broad daylight.
She was about to walk past him when she noticed an ashtray tucked out of sight on top of the grocery store's low wall.
She took it down and quietly placed it beside him.
“…Oh.”
Sensing someone nearby, the man raised his head and looked from the ashtray to Hyungnam.
Then he gave her a broad smile.
“Thank you.”
Hyungnam was taken aback when she saw his smiling face.
It was strange.
A man sitting alone before sunset, drinking straight soju and smoking cigarettes, ought to have looked as miserable as if he'd bitten into something rotten.
Instead, he seemed surprisingly cheerful.
He was also so neat and well-groomed that it was difficult to believe he was sitting here drinking soju at this hour.
“Do you live around here?”