Chapter 1. The Man Next Door (1)

Translator: Lili

Swish—

The summer monsoon season had begun.

Bakha (Peppermint) Mansion, 104 Bakha-dong, Namsong District, Seoul.

The old-style villa built of red bricks was soaked through, appearing particularly dark and dreary. Staring at the withered ivy clinging to its somber walls, I let my gaze drop.

At the entrance hung a small sign reading ‘Bakha Mansion’, though one corner had fallen off and dangled pitifully.

Stepping under the shared entrance awning, which lacked any real security features, I closed and shook off my umbrella. My eyes scanned the pile of garbage stacked along the wall opposite the building. It was an eyesore and reeked unpleasantly.

“…”

As I pushed open the entrance door, a musty smell greeted me. Whether it was from the rain or just the chronic stench of the aging building, it felt like I’d fallen into a sewer.

— It’s called Unit 102, but it’s just the basement. Don’t wander upstairs like an idiot, go down. Got it?

Recalling the landlord’s advice, I descended the stairs. The smell in the basement was even worse than on the first floor. The staircase was on the building’s left side, with two units positioned side by side on the right. Unit 102 was the inner one.

As I passed the short hallway, my eyes involuntarily glanced at the neighboring unit.

— I don’t know if the crazy guy next door still lives there. If he starts anything, just knock him out!

The landlord, Minyoung, often talked about the man next door,

— He’s a deadbeat who does nothing but sweet-talk women into sleeping with him. There’s no benefit to getting involved with a guy like that, so stay clear.

The door lock code was 1028: Minyoung’s birthday. The door clicked open, and as I stepped inside, the stifling air from within made me catch my breath.

The stagnant air, trapped in this cramped space for six months without ventilation, finally escaped.

I understood the feeling better than anyone. Since it had come to this, I left the door wide open to let it all out and stepped inside.

Minyoung’s home had a simple layout: one bedroom, a living room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. Despite the rundown exterior, the interior was relatively clean.

What particularly caught my eye were the paper flowerpots and mobiles that she had undoubtedly crafted herself.

Minyoung had a knack for handiwork and often made things out of paper or tissue. Thanks to her, our shared cell had been the most cheerful in the prison.

Having seen enough, I put down my bag and perched on the living room sofa. My damp clothes clung unpleasantly to the leather.

Through the open door, the sound of continuous rain blended with dim light seeping through the hallway window.

“…”

Sinking deeper into the sofa, I gazed at the paper mobile hanging from the ceiling.

— You’ve got nowhere else to go anyway. Stay at my place.

Minyoung had generously offered me her home, even though we had only lived together for six months. Thanks to her, I had a safe, comfortable place to wait out the rainy season.

My eyes drifted to the black rubber boots propped up by the shoe cabinet.

Like the house, they weren’t mine either. Someone had lent me the boots out of pity when I’d been trudging in the rain with nothing to shield me.

The passerby who lent me the umbrella and Minyoung, who lent me her home—there were still kind people in this world.

But I didn’t feel particularly grateful. Just blank.

Was I tired? Or unsettled? Maybe both.

It made sense.

Swish—

Five years and ten months. Six years, counting the calendar.

The outside world, which I hadn’t seen since leaving prison, felt unbearably damp.

***