“Eek!”
Startled, Hyungnam let go of the bowl of warm toasted-rice water. She hurried to catch it as it spun precariously on the dining table, but a generous splash of the hot liquid spilled over the back of her hand and wrist.
Ahhh.
The embarrassment was worse than the pain. Having displayed such carelessness first thing in the morning, the maid squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the furious scolding that was sure to follow.
Unexpectedly, however, Park Shineok attended to Choi Eunhyung first. Reaching toward him like a kindly father, he asked affectionately, “Manager Choi, you all right?”
“Yes.”
“You stupid girl, what the hell are you doing? Can't you be more careful? Huh?”
“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry……”
She had to clear the table in front of the knife-wielding gangster immediately. Steam was billowing from the spill, but there wasn't even time to fetch a dishcloth.
Using the edge of her hand, Hyungnam scraped the thick liquid and swollen grains of rice together and swept them back into the bowl.
“Ha, look at this bitch. Listen, maid, you won't make any money carrying on like that. All I did was grab your ass once, and you're throwing a goddamn fit.”
As she bent over to clean the table, a sharp slap landed on her backside.
Ah!
Barely managing to swallow her scream, Hyungnam lowered her head. Then she darted into the dark kitchen.
Shaking her hands over the sink, Hyungnam turned the cold tap on full blast. After glancing behind her, she rolled her sleeve up to her elbow.
Her wound had already been itching.
The icy tap water ran from the crook of her elbow, over the wound, and down to the place she had just burned.
In the darkness, strangely enough, Hyungnam found herself desperately conscious of Choi Eunhyung, a man who meant absolutely nothing to her.
What expression had he been wearing? Had he frowned at the spilled toasted-rice water, or hadn't he so much as batted an eye?
And what had he thought when he saw me shrieking and making a fuss because someone grabbed my backside?
Maybe he thinks I'm being ridiculously fussy for a woman working in a gangster's house.
In a sense, Park Shineok had been right when he said she wouldn't make any money behaving like that. After all, the sort of women those men were accustomed to were the ones who readily offered their breasts and buttocks in exchange for money.
Hyungnam frowned as she imagined those women's vulgar behavior.
Then a thought suddenly struck her, leaving her stunned.
You spread your legs for Park Shineok and take his money too. Who are you to find anyone else disgusting?
Realizing that her own circumstances were hardly different from those of a prostitute, she lowered her gaze to the sink.
Filthy food scraps were tangled around the drain.
Even as she forcibly swallowed the nausea rising in her throat, she could not bring herself to look away.
Filthy sewer rats that would eagerly rush at even the dirtiest scraps.
Money is money, even if I earn it by letting someone use my body. I keep telling myself that, and I still refuse to leave the comfort of this house. I'm no different from a filthy sewer rat.
Despite the cold water running over it, the wound on her arm itched like mad.
Unable to endure it, she reached for it.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
The scab that had only just formed came away, and she drew blood after all.
A drop of blood, diluted by the tap water, flowed down the drain.
The sharp, immediate pain arrived a moment later.
The fingertips with which Hyungnam had been scratching her arm began to tremble faintly. The trembling traveled up her wrist until it reached her delicate shoulder.
She could not tell whether it was the cold water, the stinging pain, or the shame that shook her entire body.
***
After breakfast was cleared away, Park Shineok took Choi Eunhyung into the living room. There, he bestowed upon him a premium cigar supposedly smuggled in from Cuba.
From his seat at the far end of the sofa, Chilgu watched with undisguised envy in his eyes.
Having finished washing the dishes, Hyungnam looked down at her injured right wrist.
The area where the warm toasted-rice water had splashed formed a red band across her skin.
Will it blister?
A troubled expression settled over her face, one that seemed out of place with her youthful features.
“Hey, maid!”
Just then, Park Shineok called her from the living room.
Hyungnam quickly stopped examining her injury and hurried out with short, quick steps.
Park Shineok jerked his chin toward Eunhyung.
“We've got aspirin in the house, right? Give Manager Choi one.”
“Yes.”
“Take your medicine before you go. Chairman Jung's summoned me.”
Park Shineok rose with a grunt, went into his bedroom, and returned wearing a fedora.
Chilgu followed him like a shadow.
As Park Shineok headed out the front door, Eunhyung bowed respectfully toward his retreating back, just as a gangster would.
Hyungnam, who had been waiting impatiently for Choi Eunhyung to leave, was bewildered.
The damned old man might pretend to be good-natured, but he had never left an unrelated subordinate alone in his house before. Distrust of other people was deeply ingrained in him.
So even though Choi Eunhyung is young, he must have earned an extraordinary amount of trust.
The old man doesn't have any children. Maybe he's even picked him out as a possible successor.
Hyungnam opened a kitchen cupboard, took an aspirin tablet from the medicine container, and placed it in a small dish.
After hesitating briefly, she poured a little medicinal mushroom infusion, which normally only Park Shineok drank, into a glass.
It was perfectly safe. That very morning, she had struggled with the impulse to put rat poison in it but had barely managed to resist.
When she hurried back carrying everything on a tray, Choi Eunhyung was sprawled sideways across the sofa.
He was using the armrest as a pillow and hugging a cushion like a child.
The cigar, supposedly worth an entire sack of rice, lay at an angle against the ashtray, burning away to no purpose.
“Here you are.”
Hyungnam placed the little dish containing the aspirin and the glass of medicinal mushroom infusion on the coffee table.
The latter was something like an unspoken apology for having disturbed his sleep.
But Choi Eunhyung did not move.
He merely blinked from where he lay, staring out at the garden beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
His indolent posture made him look as though he owned the place.
Hyungnam hesitated a little, then cleared her throat.
“Ahem.”
He ignored the maid completely and effortlessly, keeping his attention fixed on the view outside.
Hyungnam was somewhat taken aback.
If he's a guest, he should behave like one. Eat the food he's given, take the medicine he's given, and hurry up and leave.
It's not my house, but it isn't Choi Eunhyung's either. Surely I have the right to hurry him along a little.
She remained where she was, hovering near his head for quite some time.
Only when the cigar had nearly burned itself out did Eunhyung finally stir and sit up.
With the leather cushion resting on his knees, he stared vacantly at the table. His clear-featured face looked momentarily rather stupid.
In truth, Choi Eunhyung was handsome enough that people from the neighborhood might come just to get a look at him.
Whatever his laziness, his face was innocent of any wrongdoing.
Hyungnam took the opportunity to examine his features rather freely.
Perhaps it was because he seemed so dazed.
Unlike the fleeting glimpse she had caught of him dressed up on a previous occasion, he looked remarkably innocent and fresh-faced.
Even so, the faint air of a delinquent that clung to him could not be concealed.
“What're you looking at?”
Apparently, she had been staring far too openly.
Startled, Hyungnam drew a short breath.
She hastily composed her voice and blurted out an excuse.
“……I was going to take your glass away.”
Only then did Choi Eunhyung reach toward the table.
He tossed the white tablet into his mouth and swallowed a gulp of the pale brown liquid.
Then, without even looking at Hyungnam, he held out the empty glass.
I need to take the little dish too.
After a moment's hesitation, she accepted the glass he was offering first.
As she did, her fingers briefly brushed against his straight fingers, which were long enough to wrap around the glass with room to spare.
But the place where they touched felt strangely hot.
Surely he hasn't gone and cut himself with a razor blade too?
Suddenly frightened by the suspicion born of her own experiences, Hyungnam turned back toward Eunhyung.
“Excuse me……”
Only when she faced him directly did she finally notice how flushed his face was.
He sat there weakly, swaying precariously from side to side.
His clear skin had turned an angry red, and his eyes were half-glazed.
No matter how she looked at him, he was clearly far from well.
“Excuse me. Excuse me, just a moment.”
Hyungnam hurriedly put down the tray.
Then, with surprising boldness, she lifted his bangs and placed a hand against his forehead.
She pulled it away almost immediately in alarm.
He was burning up.
No wonder a big man like him is so out of it.
Her delicate eyebrows drew sharply together.
Since she had already given him his medicine, Hyungnam first hurried to the bathroom and fetched a couple of clean towels.
She filled a washbasin with lukewarm water, tucked it against her side, and returned to the living room.
By then, Choi Eunhyung had collapsed onto the sofa again.
Placing the basin, from which a faint mist of steam rose, on the table, Hyungnam spoke cautiously.
“You have a very high fever.”
“Yeah.”
“I'll put a damp towel on you.”
“Don't want it. It's cold.”
“But your fever's really high.”
Even speaking a few words seemed to make Choi Eunhyung's head throb.
He raised an arm to cover his eyes, making it clear that he did not want to hear any more.
It was the petulance of a little child.
Hyungnam regarded his behavior with disbelief and plunged one of the towels into the washbasin.
“You'll catch a cold if you leave your hair wet like that.”
“……”
“Even if we leave the damp towel for later, you should dry your hair first.”
“Told you I don't want to.”
“If you go to sleep without drying your hair, it'll start to smell.”
That remark apparently wounded his pride.
With a grunt, Choi Eunhyung planted a hand against the sofa and pushed himself upright.
The black leather creaked as it shifted beneath him.
The effort seemed considerable. His reddened eyes were almost completely unfocused.
Hyungnam held out a dry towel.
Then she realized that Eunhyung was in no condition to do anything for himself and let out a sigh.
She unfolded the towel neatly and draped it over his hot, damp hair.
Then, taking great care not to upset him, she gently began drying away the moisture.