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Between Earth and Elsewhere

19

Chapter 19

Yeomyung couldn’t quite remember what he used to do after finishing his shift at the dumpling shop. Even his sleep schedule from back then felt like a distant memory.

 

Just two or three months had passed since his grandmother’s death. Not years—mere months since he’d taken those extra shifts, shuttled her to hospital appointments. Yet that previous life felt impossible to comprehend now.

 

He caught himself dwelling on these thoughts and wondered when he’d become so self-absorbed.

 

After she passed, his body had found relief. The weight he’d lost began returning, and a physical ease settled in. He had more free time, though he didn’t do anything special with it. He just sat around in a daze.

 

Was this the life he had wanted so badly? To the point where he wished for someone’s death? Was this life really that much better than the one before? All that changed was that his body felt a little lighter. Was that worth trading a life for?

 

He wasn’t drowning in regret. Given the chance, he knew he’d make the same wish again. These were just idle musings, floating through his mind.

 

People claimed to value life above all else, spoke of pursuing noble ideals. But wouldn’t most trade a stranger’s life to cure their cold? Sacrifice a few unnamed souls to clear their debts? Maybe he was projecting his own darkness onto others, but somehow he doubted it. Humanity shared this shadow.

 

These thoughts haunted his too-early mornings. Time slipped away, purposeless. If this was all it amounted to, maybe he should have spent those precious moments differently. Not wished for her death, but for a little more time together. Not with perfect devotion, but with something gentler…

 

“You were going to call from the start, and in the end, you did. Anyone in your situation would have hesitated, Yeomyung.”

 

Yeomyung threw off the blanket and got out of bed. The house lay quiet—Hyeonmyung and his dad still slept, and his grandmother’s spot was starkly empty. The space felt wrong, as if she’d never existed here at all. Just a few vacant spaces remained—in the wardrobe, on the floor, at their table.

 

“I don’t understand why you’d be sad. Now that your grandmother’s passed, you don’t have to work at the logistics center anymore. Plus, with one less person, you’ll have more space at home…”

 

After a quick wash, he stepped outside into the predawn blue. A cool breeze raised goosebumps on his arms, and he rubbed them, wondering if summer was already over and it was no longer t-shirt weather.

 

Heading toward the bus stop, he changed course on impulse. He had time—why not walk? But even this simple choice sparked doubt. Was he walking to feel the breeze? To escape the lingering heat? To clear his head on empty streets?

 

He stopped dead.

 

Did someone like him deserve such simple pleasures? Could a person who’d weighed life against convenience claim any right to enjoy the morning air?

 

He stood frozen. If he was the type to trade a life for comfort, shouldn’t he embrace that darkness? Stop pretending to be good, accept his nature, forget his grandmother, and chase happiness?

 

But what was happiness, really? What could make someone like him happy? Had he crossed a line he could never uncross, marked himself with something permanent?

 

The thought circled back, relentless as a hungry ghost.

 

“You’re not a saint. How could you not have even a moment of doubt in that situation?”

 

He wished someone could take his thoughts away for a while. A year, maybe three. No, maybe until he reached an age where none of this mattered anymore.

 

Yeomyung forced himself forward, one foot after the other. By the time he reached the dumpling shop, it was his usual start time. The owner was already there, surprisingly, and greeted him with a pat on the shoulder. Yeomyung began his prep work.

 

“Go to the sandwich shop and pick up two boxes of chives,” the owner called from the kitchen. “They’ll be heavy.”

 

“Okay.”

 

As Yeomyung removed his apron, the owner poked his head out again. “Oh, I’ll have the car this afternoon anyway. Maybe better to wait? Though it would be nice to have them this morning…”

 

The owner’s voice trailed off, weighing the options.

 

“Yeomyung… you think she died because of you. That’s why you’re sad.”

 

After a pause, Yeomyung said quietly, “I’ll just go now.”

 

***

 

A bitter laugh escaped Seorin’s lips when she spotted the rolled omelet in the fridge.

 

“She actually made it…”

 

She lifted out the glass container, turning it in her hands. This was no store-bought dish—it was Arin’s signature style, with diced ham and a dusting of pepper, just as she’d made it when Seorin was in elementary school and Arin in middle.

 

The smile slipped from her face as she returned the container to the fridge.

 

“Arin, Mom’s coming. Please, let’s go upstairs. I’m scared.”

 

“But you said you were hungry. I’ll make a quick omelet.”

 

“I’m not hungry anymore. Let’s just do homework.”

 

“You go up. When Mom comes, I’ll say I wanted to make it.”

 

“No, together-”

 

“It’s fine. Just trust me.”

 

Just trust me. Her sister’s constant refrain. When Seorin landed in trouble: “I’ll handle it. Just trust me.” When night terrors kept her awake: “You’re safe with me. Just trust me.” When their parents threatened them over grades: “That won’t happen. Just trust me.”

 

Back then, Seorin had marveled at her sister’s courage. How did she face their parents’ anger without flinching? Where did that strength come from? Would Seorin find that same confidence when she reached middle school?

 

But middle school came and went, and adulthood after it, and that promised strength never arrived. Instead, her anxiety deepened, resistant to medication, making even attempts to mirror her sister’s boldness feel like a mockery.

 

Perhaps she should have been the one to break instead of Arin. How had her fearless sister lost her grip while Seorin, forever trembling, held on?

 

Their parents seemed to wonder the same thing.

 

“She’s the more capable one.”

 

Though Arin’s defiance earned her more punishment, their parents preferred her spark to Seorin’s timidity. They praised Arin’s courage while casting sidelong glances at Seorin that said everything: without that fire, she’s worthless.

 

Arin’s pain at their parents’ disapproval had always moved Seorin to comfort her.

 

“It’s okay. We don’t need their approval. They’ll die long before us anyway. We have each other. Let’s just praise each other, say ‘I love you’ to each other.”

 

Seorin smoothed her hair, checking her bun for loose strands. She’d let her mind wander too long in dangerous territory.

 

The click of a key in the lock made her turn.

 

“Oh! You scared me! Oh—Seorin, it’s you.” Arin burst in, panting as if pursued. She gripped Seorin’s shoulders. “Are you okay? No reptilians followed you here?”

 

“No, no one was there.”

 

Arin cupped Seorin’s face, examining her with frantic intensity. “Be careful. Their influence is growing. Their minions are everywhere.”

 

“Stop it. You’re ruining my makeup. I have to go to work,” Seorin said, waving her off.

 

“Just hold on a little longer. I’ll get you out soon. You won’t be their slave anymore. Just trust me.”

 

“Who are you calling a slave? And why is your phone off? I bought it for you specifically.”

 

“Take it back.”

 

“Why? Just answer when I call. Can’t you do that much?”

 

“No. I need to buy everything myself.”

 

“You’re impossible.”

 

Arin burst into laughter. “Don’t worry. It’s all set now. We’ll be going to space soon. I’ve finally earned it.”

 

Anxiety clutched at Seorin’s heart. “Didn’t you say it would take longer?”

 

“No. Since that old lady who bothered the aliens died, he’s started acknowledging me. When I helped remove that trash human, he recognized my worth.”

 

“…”

 

“I think it’s time to tell him.”

 

“Tell him what?”

 

Arin’s eyes blazed. “That I’ve earned my place in space.”

 

“Already? Isn’t it too soon? Shouldn’t you wait until you’re sure?”

 

“No, I’m certain now. He visits more often, and his gaze has changed.”

 

“…”

 

“I’ll tell him on the full moon. That’s when lunar energy peaks. You need moon power to reach space.”

 

“When’s the full moon?”

 

“Ten nights from now.”

 

Seorin knew they couldn’t live like this forever. Eventually, Yeomyung Jeon would discover the truth, and Arin’s facade of sanity would crumble. But not yet—she hadn’t found a way to protect her sister. If Arin’s pretense failed now, if their parents learned she’d been faking stability, she’d be sent back to the hospital.

 

And there, locked away, her delusions would spiral deeper than ever. Seorin remembered Arin’s last hospitalization—her sister refusing food, seized by convulsions, slipping away…

 

Arin cradled Seorin’s face. “What’s wrong? Nervous about space? Don’t worry, I’ll bring motion sickness pills.”

 

Seorin searched her sister’s eyes.

 

“Just trust me,” Arin said.

 

“It’s fine. Just trust me.”

 

Young Arin’s face flickered over present-day Arin’s features. How had her sister stayed frozen in time while Seorin had changed so much?

 

“It’s okay. We don’t need their approval. They’ll die long before us anyway. We have each other. Let’s just praise each other, say ‘I love you’ to each other.”

 

Seorin bit her cheek hard. Could she survive without Arin? Could she bear the daily weight of hidden anxiety, the constant pretense of strength, the exhausting imitation of her sister’s boldness?

 

“You’re a disgrace, always shaming your mother. You know, the mental hospital isn’t just for your sister.”

 

No… she couldn’t make it alone. She needed Arin, broken or not.

 

Seorin’s trembling hand covered her sister’s.

 

I have to stop her.

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