Between Earth and Elsewhere

“Hello,” Daeun said as she entered the dumpling shop.

The owner, busy washing dishes in the kitchen, gave a slight nod. Yeomyung glanced at her once before returning to his cleanup duties. Mixed emotions churned inside him. After yesterday’s encounter, he hadn’t expected her to come today. Even during their brief interaction at the sandwich shop during lunch, neither had spoken a word. Her face then had been clouded.

It made sense to Yeomyung. Who would smile after what he’d said? Wasn’t this exactly what he’d wanted? Walking away from the sandwich shop earlier, he’d convinced himself this was for the best, even as a chill settled in his heart.

Yet here was Daeun at his quitting time, acting as if nothing had happened. Her presence brought a flash of relief, but it quickly faded as reality set in. Now he faced another challenge: how to push her away again.

Maybe she’d come with a different purpose today. To confront him about his ingratitude, perhaps. To scold him for his rudeness when she’d only tried to help. To lecture him about his attitude toward others. Yeomyung almost hoped for it. He could handle her anger, her disappointment. It would be easier that way.

The thought made him wince—wanting peace of mind without effort reminded him too much of his dad.

But if that wasn’t why she’d come, what then? Would she try to help again? To interfere? Did she actually care for him that much? Or was this pity? Did she see him as some kind of mission—the poor, stubborn boy with a closed-off heart who needed saving?

What if he accepted her help? The thought flickered through his mind, but he knew better. That kind of salvation was temporary. It would lift him halfway out of the hole, only to drop him back in with an apology and a “Sorry, this is all I can do.” He’d end up exactly where he’d started, only more broken than before.

That was what truly frightened him.

“I’m leaving now,” Yeomyung announced as he left the shop. Daeun fell into step behind him.

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke up. “Want to eat some ice cream?”

Yeomyung said nothing.

“My treat.”

More silence.

“Right. I knew you wouldn’t answer.” Daeun dug through her bag and pulled out a packet of snacks. The crunching sound cut through the quiet air as she ate. “Ah, delicious.”

She held out a snack to Yeomyung, who turned away. Unfazed, she popped it into her own mouth. “You asked me to tell you how shitty my life is, right?”

Silence.

“I can’t tell you. But I can show you.” She grabbed his arm. “Follow me.”

Yeomyung let himself be pulled a few steps before planting his feet firmly on the ground.

“You wanted to know how bad it is, didn’t you?” Daeun pressed. “I’m saying I’ll show you. You have to come with me to see.”

“What are you doing?” he snapped.

“Showing you what you asked about.”

“I don’t need it. I told you not to follow me.”

“Just this one thing, then I won’t follow you anymore.”

When he didn’t respond, she added, “If you don’t come, I’ll keep doing this every day.”

Yeomyung’s mind raced with possibilities. Was she planning to harvest his organs, like in those movies he’d watched? That would explain her strange behavior. Or maybe she really did want to show him her life—some cesspool she lived in, or the dirty work she did at night.

He followed her, considering turning back several times. But he knew if she said just a few words, he’d probably keep going. Maybe part of him wanted to be led by her, to follow without thinking. He made excuses to himself: She won’t follow me after this. Just do what she says today. Tomorrow, I won’t be swayed.

Daeun led them to a redevelopment area where buildings stood half-demolished. She entered one and started climbing the stairs. Yeomyung’s unease grew. What was she going to show him here? Did she live in this place? Or was someone waiting to ambush him with a brick to the head?

Daeun climbed to the top of the stairs without a word and pushed open the rooftop door. Yeomyung hesitated halfway up, thinking rooftops like this were usually locked. His mind conjured dark scenarios—people lying in wait, targeting those whose disappearance wouldn’t raise alarms.

“Come up,” Daeun called, her head appearing in the doorway.

If his imagination proved right, his life would become infinitely worse. Then again, with his luck lately, maybe it was inevitable. If this was his fate, he’d meet it eventually, whether here or elsewhere. For a moment, he pictured Daeun’s betrayal—her looking down at him with a mocking “you idiot” expression. The imagined pain felt strangely alluring.

He followed her out.

The rooftop stood empty except for Daeun, leaving him half-relieved, half-embarrassed at his paranoia. She stood at the edge, peering down. With no railings left on this condemned building, one wrong step meant a ten-story fall. Daeun showed no fear.

Yeomyung joined her at the edge.

“You asked how shitty it is,” she said, still looking down. “My life is so shitty that I’m ready to throw it all away right now. I’m living with only one way out. But if that doesn’t work…”

Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him. Yeomyung tried pushing her away but stopped—one wrong move could send them both over. Her grip on his waist tightened while he held her arms, frozen in place.

“What are you doing?” he asked, frowning.

“Let’s jump together.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Let’s jump from here together. Then we’ll see whose life is shittier. The one who resists jumping—their life must be less shitty, right?”

Yeomyung’s muscles tensed. Was she serious? Was she really planning to jump?

No, she couldn’t be. She must be trying to manipulate him—if he gave in, his life would become hopelessly entangled with hers. But what could he do? Overpowering her physically might send them both over the edge.

Why was his life like this? Why did he only attract such people? Maybe his life reeked of desperation. Flies gather around garbage, after all.

“Are you doing this because I told you not to follow me?” he asked.

“No. We’re seeing whose life is shittier.”

“Let’s get down and talk.”

“Why? Seems you don’t want to die, Yeomyung.”

He gripped her arm hard enough to hurt, but instead of pulling away, she pressed deeper into his chest. Her embrace tightened until his ribs ached.

“I’m curious,” she said. “Why do you want to live? It’s miserable, isn’t it? So why is that?”

“Think of it like a trip,” she continued. “One where you have no money, your friend’s insufferable, you can’t communicate, you’re lost, and there’s a typhoon every day. Wouldn’t the wise choice be to quit? Why continue?”

Why did he want to live? Why was he fighting so hard to hold on? The questions felt meaningless—it was just instinct, like sleeping when tired or eating when hungry. Humans were programmed that way.

Maybe wanting to die was the most deliberate choice a person could make. It defied instinct. Yeomyung had never been one to make active choices; he’d always drifted passively. If he’d been more proactive, maybe his life wouldn’t be so hard.

Was this a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, like that moment with the car rushing toward his mother? His one chance to end the endless cycle of pain? If he missed it, he’d return to his parasitic family, working day after day, waiting for someone to die. Ten, maybe twenty more years of this stretched ahead.

People talked about living with the courage to die, but living took no courage. Following instinct was easy. Now, dying—that took real courage.

For the first time, Yeomyung considered being brave. How rational it seemed. Not being slave to instinct, but logically deciding whether life was worth living. Wouldn’t a great person choose death in this situation?

His grip loosened.

“Should I?” he said quietly. “Should I just die?”

“Okay. If you die, I’ll die too.”

Those words felt warmer than any he’d ever heard. Only then did he notice Daeun’s warmth in his arms, soft and real. Like meat tenderized with pineapple, his heart began to soften.

He released her arms and hugged her properly. They felt like lovers who’d survived the end of the world.

“Then, let’s jump,” he said.

“Okay.”