Between Earth and Elsewhere

“Agh, this place is great, but the mosquitoes…” Daeun smacked one that landed on her bag. “Oh, got one.”

When she lifted her hand, the squashed mosquito left a bloody smear. She flicked its corpse away with her finger, leaving a trail across the bag like a skid mark. She didn’t seem to care.

Taking a sip of soju, she said, “That’s definitely my blood. No wonder it was itching.”

“That bag costs 13 million won,” said Yeomyung.

“Huh? What does?”

“Your bag.”

Daeun stared at it with disbelief, as if suddenly realizing it wasn’t really hers—like raising a child only to find out they belonged to someone else.

She glanced back at Yeomyung. “When I bought it, it wasn’t even 10 million. The price has gone up since then.”

Noticing Yeomyung’s expression, she raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t seriously think I was carrying around a 13 million won bag, did you?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Daeun chuckled. “Then what’s that mosquito’s life worth? About 1.5 million?”

Yeomyung didn’t laugh. He took a sip of the soju Daeun had given him, feeling like he was just postponing his misfortune.

He’d just heard troubling news about his life spiraling further. A normal person would be thinking about damage control, or if they were smarter, how to turn it into an opportunity.

But Yeomyung was only delaying it. Meeting Daeun, avoiding thoughts about his problems, pushing his misfortune off until tomorrow. At least today wouldn’t get any worse. Tomorrow’s problems could wait for tomorrow.

The more miserable a person is, the shorter they can delay their problems. For someone like Yeomyung, living such a fleeting life, a few hours was the best he could manage.

That’s why miserable people think only in the short term. They live one day at a time. Thinking any further ahead leads only to hopelessness.

“So, why did you change your mind?” Daeun asked. “I didn’t ask over the phone in case you changed it again.”

“I just didn’t want to think.”

“Then you should talk more. Talking helps keep other thoughts at bay.”

“What should I talk about?”

“Tell me about your first love. And I want all the details.”

Yeomyung thought about the unfamiliar concept, one that seemed distant from his life.

He finally said, “When I was in high school, I needed to buy a summer gym uniform. But I didn’t have any money, so I just wore the winter one. There was this girl in class who came in wearing what looked like the summer uniform, but something was off. The other kids noticed too. She was wearing something similar, but it wasn’t the real thing. She must have found a look-alike because she couldn’t afford the actual one.” He paused. “The other kids laughed at her. She clenched her teeth, pretending she couldn’t hear them. I think I felt something for her.”

Yeomyung looked at Daeun.

She blinked. “She was your first love?”

“Yes.”

“That’s sympathy, not love.”

“Is it different?”

Daeun tilted her head. “Kind of similar, I guess… You care, you want to help…”

Yeomyung figured that was good enough. He didn’t need to know any deeper meanings or specific distinctions.

“Aren’t you curious about me?” Daeun asked. “Like my first love?”

“You’re not curious, huh.”

After a moment, Yeomyung asked, “Your life is a mess too, isn’t it?”

A cold expression crossed Daeun’s face. “Of course,” she answered, her voice cracking.

“Then why are you always so cheerful? Are you just pretending?”

“Should I not be?” Daeun asked. “Should I just cry, then? Walk around looking miserable all the time? I still have to sell sandwiches.”

“But you’re not selling sandwiches right now.”

“Even if I’m not…” She paused. “It’s frustrating, you know. Everyone else laughs and smiles. If I’m the only one looking miserable, what’s the point? Just because life is crap doesn’t mean you can’t smile. You just smile to make it feel a little less unfair.”

“Does it really make it feel less unfair?”

“It does for me. Plus, if I look sad, the happy people feel even happier. ‘Oh, she’s miserable. Good thing I’m happy.’ That makes me even more annoyed. So I smile out of spite.”

Is that so? Yeomyung wondered. Would he feel a little less bitter if he smiled too?

“But you, Yeomyung… you shouldn’t smile. It wouldn’t suit you.”

Yeomyung lifted the corners of his mouth slightly, attempting a smile. Even in his imagination, it felt wrong.

Daeun burst out laughing. “Hahaha! Ah! Wow, it really doesn’t suit you. You look like a psychopath from a horror movie.”

Yeomyung’s face returned to neutral.

How could someone say he looked like a psychopath so casually?

After her laughter subsided, Daeun asked, “You’re not upset, are you?”

“No.”

“You’re a funny person.”

Yeomyung felt like he was in the eye of a storm. The typhoon would hit soon. He wondered if he should be sitting here in such an urgent situation. It felt foolish to wait, knowing what was coming. And yet, he couldn’t help but think, What else can I do?

He didn’t want his time with Daeun to end. Not because he was particularly happy, but because he wasn’t particularly miserable either. He thought it would be nice to die just sitting here, talking nonsense and catching mosquitoes.

“If life got even worse than it is now, what would you do?” he asked.

“Worse than now? Hmm…”

“Even if you thought about it from a cosmic perspective… and it still felt awful?”

“Then I guess I’d die.”

“Are you serious?”

“Why? You think I couldn’t do it? Do you think I’m just saying that?” Daeun smiled slyly. “You’re right. I’m just saying it. Who’d actually want to die? It’s scary.”

She shuddered dramatically, and Yeomyung quietly watched her.

***

“Yeomyung.”

As he was about to get into a taxi, Yeomyung turned at his dad’s voice.

“You know I’m always grateful, right?”

Would Yeomyung have felt better if his dad hadn’t said that?

“I’ll be back,” he replied, and got into the taxi.

As they pulled away, his grandmother muttered, “Why on earth do we need a taxi for this? It’s such a waste of money going back and forth. No matter what I say, your father won’t listen. He’s always telling me to just sit still… Why don’t you talk to him? Tell him not to send me to the hospital, huh? Yeomyung?”

He didn’t want to hear a word, let alone hear his grandmother call his name. That voice, cracked and dry, calling out “Yeomyung,” always stirred something in his chest.

“Ah, these old folks…” the taxi driver muttered under his breath.

He said it softly enough so she couldn’t hear, but he knew Yeomyung would.

Yeomyung remained silent. The taxi stopped at the hospital, and he helped his grandmother inside.

The hospital was crowded, especially with old people. Why had medical science advanced so much? Why were lives that should have ended long ago being kept alive so persistently? How many children brought their parents here, secretly wishing they would pass away soon?

The hospital was vast. From getting a ticket to tests to doctor visits and more tests—it was no place an elderly person could navigate alone.

His grandmother collapsed into a chair outside the consultation room, wobbling even with Yeomyung’s support.

“Why are there so many tests? Go here, go there… That last one, they put me in some dark, black thing, and I couldn’t breathe, like I was being suffocated… Don’t make me do that again.”

She spoke as if Yeomyung had personally arranged her MRI.

“Eh?” she pressed, wanting confirmation.

Yeomyung didn’t respond. He couldn’t promise there wouldn’t be more tests, but mostly, he just didn’t want to answer.

When his dad wasn’t around, or when no one was looking, Yeomyung often ignored his grandmother.

What did it matter, ignoring someone who saw him as neither good nor bad? Words from a grandmother who was soon to die, words that didn’t affect anyone, words no one really listened to…

“Ma’am, is your grandson a doctor? How should he know?”

Yeomyung turned toward the voice.

“Why wouldn’t he know?” his grandmother grumbled. “If I say I don’t want to, then I don’t want to.”

“You have to know what’s wrong to treat it. You need tests to figure that out. How can they treat you without doing tests? What kind of crap is that?”

It was Daeun.

His grandmother wheezed out a laugh like a boiling kettle. “Oh, what kind of young lady says ‘crap’?”

“Well, why can’t a young lady say crap?”

Daeun and Yeomyung’s eyes met.

He turned away without a word.

Where had she come from, and why was she suddenly acting so virtuous? Did she like him? Was she trying to make a good impression?

Yeomyung found people like her ridiculous. It wasn’t hard being kind to an old woman you’d only meet once. Even he could do that, pretending to be kind, boosting his self-esteem by thinking, I’m such a good person. I’m being a companion to this elderly lady.

But could she care for her for life? Could she always keep that cheerful face?

When strangers act overly kind, it strains the relationship between the elderly and their caretakers. The elderly think strangers are better than family, while the children, feeling guilty, grow colder toward their parents.

“Chunnyeo Park? Is Chunnyeo Park here?” a nurse called out, scanning the waiting room.

“It’s time to go in,” Yeomyung told his grandmother.

“Is it already?”

“Yes.”

He helped her stand.

Was Daeun feeling proud now? Did she think she’d shown Yeomyung what a good person she was, how unaffected she was by witnessing his misfortune?

Yeomyung didn’t like the idea of Daeun feeling proud.

Was it because her goodness made him feel worse about himself? Was that why he wouldn’t acknowledge it? Was he annoyed that Daeun could live cheerfully despite having a similarly miserable life?

Without looking at her, Yeomyung followed his grandmother into the consultation room.