Between Earth and Elsewhere

Beep beep beep beep

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Beep beep beep beep

Beep beep beep beep

Yeomyung silenced the alarm. Six in the morning. He hauled himself out of bed with a groan, his body protesting the mere three hours of sleep. After finishing his logistics job at 2 a.m., he hadn’t made it home until 3.

Humans truly were adaptable creatures, he mused. Three hours of sleep wasn’t fatal, just painful. He rushed through his morning routine and dressed, stepping out into the morning haze.

His mind drifted in a fog—perhaps a blessing. Living like this was easier with blurred consciousness. Being fully aware only brought more pain.

How long do I have to live like this?

The thought surfaced regularly, but he pushed it away each time. Making plans was pointless. His life stretched only as far as today. Live one day, die. Live another, die again.

Time weighed on Yeomyung like a physical burden. Each morning, the hours until sleep pressed down on him, as if he carried time itself on his back. Yet he also feared its swift passage—his youth stealing away like a silent mouse. He dreaded the day he’d wake to find it gone entirely.

But time marched on, deaf to his wishes. He arrived at the dumpling shop and began his routine: raising shutters, cleaning, organizing ingredients into the refrigerator. When the owner arrived, Yeomyung fell into his familiar rhythm—taking orders, packaging dumplings, handling payments. Then repeat, repeat, repeat.

After returning home, Yeomyung took his grandmother to the hospital.

His dad’s words were always the same. “Our Yeomyung is having a hard time. I should be the one taking her to the hospital… If only I wasn’t sick…”

“…”

“If only I had earned more money. I’m sorry.”

“…We’ll be back soon.”

Yeomyung knew what his father wanted—reassurance, words like “It’s okay” or “Don’t say things like that.” Something to ease his guilty conscience. Knowing this, Yeomyung stayed silent. Let him feel uncomfortable. It would be too unfair if his dad found peace of mind.

Meanwhile, his brother Hyeonmyung never left his room. When their paths crossed, he avoided Yeomyung’s eyes. Fear kept him silent—fear that Yeomyung’s burden might become his own. He wouldn’t even ask “Is it hard?” as a courtesy. What if Yeomyung said yes and asked for help? At least Hyeonmyung was better than their dad; he was willing to sit with his discomfort.

Yeomyung understood. In Hyeonmyung’s place, he’d have done the same, telling himself, “I’m a student. Of course my older brother has to handle these responsibilities.”

Everyone turns a blind eye to what they can ignore. Yeomyung just didn’t have that luxury—not because he was particularly kind or responsible, but because he had no excuse not to see.

Yeomyung had imagined running away from his misfortune, leaving these leeches behind. Living somewhere isolated, alone. Anything seemed better than this.

But if he were capable of running, he wouldn’t have feared misfortune in the first place. He knew himself—once faced with responsibility and relationships, he couldn’t turn away. That’s why he’d tried so hard to avoid them. Once they appeared, he had no choice but to shoulder them.

In the end, Yeomyung thought his family was worse than those with evil intentions. True evil could be abandoned cleanly, justified with “They deserved it.” But mere incompetence and weakness? He couldn’t walk away from that. Only he would be seen as the villain. And so they would continue draining someone’s life force, drop by drop.

He’d always dreaded this fate. Now that it had arrived, it felt oddly familiar—perhaps because he’d spent his life preparing for it. To avoid the shock of falling from happiness into the abyss, he’d been inching toward it all along. His starting point had never been far from rock bottom.

Life, for Yeomyung, was like walking on ground that could collapse at any moment. To minimize the damage from an inevitable sinkhole, he stayed in the lowest places possible. His entire existence was a slow descent to the depths.

After the hospital, he returned home. His grandmother tried to feed him.

“Eat before you go, okay? It’s lunchtime.”

“…”

“Yeomyung? Didn’t you hear grandmother? Yeomyung?”

He remained silent. His dad couldn’t find words to bridge the void. Without a word, Yeomyung left for the dumpling shop.

Catching his reflection in a parked car’s window, Yeomyung noticed how his already thin frame had shrunk further in mere weeks.

He wanted to look like a zombie—someone visibly clinging to life, existing only because death wasn’t an option. It was his silent rebellion. Look at me. See how you’re breaking me. See what you’re using to extend your lives. You survive by draining mine. Look.

His thoughts drifted to his mom. She had never smiled, her face gaunt, hair unkempt, expression vacant. Had that been a form of protest, too? Her way of showing how they had withered her?

Now he understood his inheritance. From his dad, incompetence. From his mom, that ambiguous nature—not cruel enough to abandon her family, but not kind enough to sacrifice willingly. These combined to birth one miserable life: his own.

***

“You’re here,” Daeun said, smiling.

Yeomyung managed a slight nod.

Making a sandwich, Daeun spoke. “You seem busy these days.”

“Yes.”

“What’re you busy with?”

Yeomyung wavered between hiding his misfortune and parading it. In the end, he decided it made no difference. “Earning and spending money.”

Daeun nodded. “When will you have time for dinner again?”

“…I can’t.”

“Try to sweet-talk the boss a little. Ask to finish an hour early.”

“…”

“No, wait. If you try to be cute, it might backfire. Should I try instead?”

“…”

Her words came from privilege, Yeomyung thought. Not even extreme privilege—others spoke from far loftier positions. Yet he found himself angry at these small things, at Daeun who seemed just slightly better off than him.

“If you have time, you’ll eat, right?” Daeun broke the silence. “You don’t… dislike eating with me, do you?”

“…”

“Strange. No answer.”

Why did Yeomyung need to push Daeun away?

His hamster wheel couldn’t afford to catch on anything now. It had to maintain its relentless pace—no slowing, no stopping. A pause would make restarting unbearable. Pure inertia had to keep it spinning. And Daeun? She was a stone in his wheel. She had to go.

“You don’t like me, do you, Daeun?” Yeomyung asked abruptly.

Daeun stopped making the sandwich and met his gaze. They locked eyes for a moment.

“Did something bad happen to you, Yeomyung?”

The question struck him as absurd. Bad things? Good things? When had he last bothered to distinguish between them? Wasn’t life just an endless stream of not-good things?

“Nothing.”

“Nothing happened at all?”

“No.”

“…Why doesn’t that seem true?”

“…”

He moved to the counter. “Is the order ready?”

Daeun studied him. “What happens if I like you, and what happens if I don’t?”

“It makes no difference.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“…”

Why wasn’t she following his script? Her responses left him confused, unbalanced.

He reached for the sandwich bag and headed for the door.

“Yeomyung.”

He turned.

“Take a napkin.”

He left without another word.

***

“Hello, Yeomyung.”

Daeun entered the dumpling shop. Yeomyung’s eyes followed her as she walked past him to the owner.

“Here you go, sir. The boss asked me to give you this.”

The owner peered into the bag, grunting, “Tell him I’ll enjoy it.”

“Sure. Can I stay here until Yeomyung finishes work?”

“Go ahead.”

Yeomyung looked at her.

“Get back to work,” she said.

The evening rush came and went.

“I have another job right after this,” Yeomyung told Daeun.

“Who said anything? I’ll go with you as far as you go.”

“…”

Yeomyung worked as if she wasn’t there—steaming dumplings, taking orders. Daeun alternated between her phone and watching him.

At closing, he approached the owner. “Boss, could I… take Thursday off?”

“There’s no replacement that day.”

“Could we ask the person who comes on Sunday if they’re available?”

“They can’t do weekdays because of their other job.”

“Alright, I understand…”

Outside, Daeun matched his quick stride. “Why Thursday? Do you have something going on?”

“…”

“It’s the day you take your grandmother to the hospital, isn’t it? The day we met at the hospital was also a Thursday.”

“…”

“I can get out of work. Should I fill in for you? Either the job or the hospital visit.”

Yeomyung stopped. Daeun followed suit.

He rubbed his face. “Daeun.”

Their eyes met.

“Is your life really miserable?” he asked.

“…Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Why are you meddling in other people’s business? Save your own life.”

“…That’s what I’m doing right now.”

“…”

Through the sound of traffic, Yeomyung said, “Stop interfering.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like it.”

“Me? Or being interfered with?”

“Both.”

“Just chill. I’m offering to fill in for you.”

Yeomyung clenched his teeth, then said, “Then tell me how shitty your life is.”

“…”

“If I hear it and it’s shittier than mine, I’ll put up with it. Your interference.”

“…”

Silence stretched between them. Daeun blinked, watching him.

Yeomyung looked at her once more, then walked toward the bus stop, leaving her standing alone in the night.