Between Earth and Elsewhere

[I found someone for the job, so I’m afraid we’ll have to cancel tomorrow’s interview.]

Yeomyung stared at the message he just received. He scrolled up to re-check the one from this morning.

[We haven’t had any applicants so I was beginning to give up hope. Can you come ASAP for an interview tomorrow?]

This marked the third canceled interview. While finding part-time work was supposedly difficult these days, this seemed beyond normal. Even stranger were the employers themselves—warm and welcoming at first, then inexplicably cold just hours later.

“Yeomyung?”

“…”

“Yeomyung?”

“…”

A person’s compassion and generosity don’t spring from character alone. They come from a moderately full stomach, a cool room, a comfortable seat, and a pain-free body. In such conditions, his grandmother’s calls wouldn’t have grated on him so much.

But in this sweltering house, with sweat-soaked underwear and no job prospects, Yeomyung felt like an overinflated balloon. His grandmother’s cracked voice was the pin threatening to burst him.

He didn’t want to answer, but silence wasn’t an option. His grandmother would keep calling, irritating not just him but also his brother Hyeonmyung and their dad—all in the same volatile state. His dad’s balloon, made of thinner rubber, might pop first.

Yeomyung looked at his grandmother, wordless.

“Bring me a glass of cold water, Yeomyung,” she said. “Oh my, why is it so hot today? I’m sweating buckets, all over my neck and back. It’s terrible. Must be the end of the dog days… When your mother was alive, we used to eat cold bean soup noodles and samgyetang during this season. Now that she’s gone, we can’t even eat those—”

Bang!

The glass hit the small table beside his grandmother, water sloshing over the rim.

“Oh dear… You’ll break the glass,” she said, startled.

Yeomyung walked out without a word. In the narrow shade beneath the wall, he lit a cigarette. He made a call that went unanswered, then tried another number.

“Hello, this is Happy Jobs, supporting your hopes and dreams. How may I help you?” a woman answered.

“I think I’ve been added to the job seeker blacklist. Can you check for me?”

“Oh… certainly. May I have your name and date of birth?”

After gathering his personal details, the consultant asked him to wait. Keyboard clicks filtered through the phone.

“Thank you for waiting, sir. Yes… unfortunately, you are on the blacklist.”

“Why was I added?”

“If an employer judges a job seeker’s work attitude and performance to be poor, they can apply to add them with supporting evidence. It’s a system to protect other employers, so we ask for your cooperation.”

“How can I get my name removed?”

“If the employer applies to have you removed, you will be excluded.”

“Who added me to the blacklist?”

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information as it’s personal data.”

“So I need to ask the person who blacklisted me to remove me, but I can’t know who that person is?”

“Yes, that’s correct, sir.”

“I see. Thank you.”

Yeomyung hung up and lit another cigarette. There was no point raging at the consultant—nothing would change. The employers paid the website, not the job seekers. Of course the system favored them.

Was it his previous manager? Unlikely. He couldn’t think of any evidence of irresponsibility, nor any reason for spite. Rather…

It was probably Seorin.

Had he offended the wrong person? Was this the price of a poor person disturbing a rich person’s peace? If he had taken the ten million won she offered, visited her sister when asked, and worked at their house—would life be smoother now?

But if this was just bad luck, problems would have found him regardless. Whether he complied or rebelled…

Besides, a “smooth” life was never in Yeomyung’s cards.

Whether he lived this way or that way, it was just living.

He could try other job websites. If he was blacklisted there too, he’d walk the neighborhood looking for stores that didn’t use posting sites.

Yeomyung found it strange—he could get so irritated by his grandmother’s calls, yet feel nothing toward such blatant injustice. Perhaps he was just a petty person, capable of anger only at what lay within reach.

***

“That’ll be 12,000 won.”

Yeomyung processed the payment and handed back the card with the receipt. He packed two sets of dumplings, a pack of steamed buns, pickled radish, soy sauce, and wooden chopsticks into a plastic bag for the customer.

He’d found this job four bus stops from home. Without access to job sites, it was his only option after searching on foot.

The elderly owner had just stared at him when he’d asked about work. Then, without questions, simply said, “Alright.”

Yeomyung, surprised but quiet, said he’d start tomorrow. Better not to ask questions. He left before the owner could change his mind.

There was no employment contract. Yeomyung hadn’t expected one—a man who’d offer one wouldn’t have hired someone like him anyway.

The owner spoke only about work. At the end of each shift, he’d open the register and hand Yeomyung some bills—his daily wage. Sometimes it exceeded minimum wage, sometimes it fell short. The owner seemed to pay whatever felt right that day.

Yeomyung took the money without comment.

He felt he understood the owner, a man who avoided being tied down by contracts, relationships, or money. Like someone watching travelers at a bus terminal, letting them come and go.

Maybe he’d been betrayed by a trusted worker before? Perhaps that’s why he no longer trusted part-timers?

Could be, or not. Yeomyung decided it didn’t matter. He was just there to sell dumplings.

“One pack of Gulim dumplings, one pack of meat dumplings, and one kimchi.”

“Let’s get steamed buns too.”

“Isn’t that too much? Can we eat it all?”

“Of course. It’ll be gone in no time.”

“You better not leave leftovers this time. One steamed bun, please.”

Yeomyung opened the steamer lid at the mother and son’s order. Steam clouded his vision as he felt around with tongs for the dumplings. He closed the lid after loading them all.

As the steam cleared…

Arin stood before him.

“Found you.”

Her grin reminded him of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. He glanced around—no sign of Seorin.

He resumed his movements slowly, covering the takeout container and securing it with a rubber band.

Arin bounced with joy. “I knew I could find you. Actually, I’ve always been much smarter than Seorin. Everyone thinks Seorin is much smarter now, but that’s not true. Now I can go to space…”

The customers stared at her strangely.

“That’ll be 18,000 won,” Yeomyung said, avoiding her gaze as he handed the bag over the counter.

They extended their card warily while Arin rattled on, “Hello. This is the first time I’ve seen you, but it’ll be the last. I’m going to space, you see. This person will take me there. I don’t need to exist on Earth anymore. In space, no one will bother me. There’s no worry or fighting in space. It’s full of happiness and love. There are no Earthlings there. I’ll be the first Earthling to live in space.”

Then, to Yeomyung’s dismay, she began to sing.

“When the aliens send a signal beep-beep! A door to the moon will open. I’ll ride a hidden rocket and fly far awaaaay. Let’s fly to the distant universe!”

The customers backed away slowly, waiting for their card.

“I think there’s something wrong with her,” the son whispered.

His mother elbowed him.

As soon as Yeomyung returned their receipt and card, they snatched it and fled.

Arin started chattering again. “Where’s the spaceship? It’s at your house, right? That’s why you didn’t take me there? And why you deliberately left me in the wrong place. I understand. The spaceship is important. It would be terrible if the reptilians found out. You wouldn’t be able to return to space. But I’m really not a reptilian. Look, see?”

She held up her hands—nails stained blood-red with balsam dye.

“Reptiles hate the smell of balsam. You’re not a reptilian, right? Right?”

The red dye made her pale skin look almost ghostly.

She must have come without Seorin knowing. Seorin wouldn’t have risked sending her sister to someone whose job she’d destroyed—not knowing what an angry man with nothing to lose might do.

Yeomyung briefly considered doing something. Show her what happens when you push someone too far.

But he dismissed the thought. Kidnapping, confinement—they required too much planning, too much dedication.

“Ahem.”

Yeomyung turned to find the boss behind him, looking displeased. There was no telling how long he’d been there.

“Just… ten minutes. I’ll be right back,” Yeomyung said quickly.

The boss didn’t respond. Yeomyung took the silence as permission and removed his apron.

He grabbed Arin’s wrist and started walking.

She skipped alongside him. “How exciting! We’re going to space! Goodbye Earth!”

At the main street, he released her wrist.

“Go,” he said as she looked at him.

“Aren’t you going?” She glanced around. “How do we go? Where’s the spaceship?”

“There’s nothing like that. Go home.”

“Why? Come on, let’s go to space. Or are you not done with your work on Earth yet? Do you need to sell all those dumplings? Should I buy them all for you?”

“I got kicked out of the store because of you. Remember the bakery from last time? I got kicked out of there.”

“What’s the big deal? We’re going back to space now. You can’t go there anymore anyway. Stop talking nonsense and let’s get moving. Hurry. I really can’t take it anymore. The humans are tormenting me too much. They’re trapping me, preventing me from becoming an astral body. I can’t go back now. We really need to go to space now.”

Arin shook his arm violently.

Yeomyung saw his grandmother in her—both trapped in their own worlds, deaf to others’ words. No learning, only the pursuit of their desires.

They meant no harm. Like a crying newborn keeping everyone awake. It couldn’t be helped. Because they’re old. Because they’re crazy.

How much longer would he face these inevitables? Inevitable poverty, inevitable family, inevitable fate… His life seemed built entirely of things he couldn’t escape.

When he didn’t respond, Arin hugged his waist desperately. “I’m really having such a hard time. I can’t breathe. If I stay on Earth any longer, my respiratory system will turn into gills, ones that can only breathe in space. So if I stay on Earth any longer, I won’t be able to breathe. I’ll die if I stay here. Please. What do you want? Should I give you money? What will it take for you to take me?”

Yeomyung chuckled. For a crazy woman, she was surprisingly practical.

“How much can you give? More than your sister offered?” Yeomyung asked.

“Of course! I have lots of money. It’s piled up at our house! Dad always says it’s a headache to have too much money.”

Yeomyung laughed softly. Arin, taking it as encouragement, laughed too.

“But you know what?” Yeomyung said. “No matter how much you give, you can’t go to space.”

Her laughter died.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not qualified.”

“What qualification do I need?”

“Think about it. If space was a good place, would they take just anyone? They’d only take good people, right? Leave the trash behind on Earth. That’s how space stays a good place.”

When Arin didn’t respond, Yeomyung asked, “Are you a good person?”

Arin nodded slowly, unsure but wanting to believe—like a child before Santa.

“That’s a lie,” he said.

“…”

“What makes you a good person?” he pressed. “What have you done in your life? You live under your parents’ roof, spending their money, doing nothing but going on about space, and worrying your sister. So how are you a good person?”

Arin blinked.

Why was Yeomyung being so cruel? He could say he had no choice—that it was the only way to stop her coming.

But was that really all there was to it?

He couldn’t be sure.

Yeomyung said, “I hate people like you the most. People who can’t take care of themselves and leech off others. You’d say you had no choice, right? But what about the person you’re clinging to? What did they do wrong? The person who worries and breaks their back to feed trash like you? Well… I guess your parents have a lot of money… so their backs won’t break. But that doesn’t make you any less of a trash. Right?”

The joy had vanished from Arin’s face.

She seemed to age in an instant, her features hardening into something painful to witness. In that moment, she didn’t look crazy at all—just someone crushed by unbearable despair.

Yeomyung fought his guilt.

I told her not to come, repeatedly. What else could I do if she wouldn’t listen? What choice did I have when speaking nicely failed? I lost my job unfairly too. Did she expect me to stay silent?

He turned away. Arin didn’t try to stop him, standing frozen in place.

Yeomyung took a few steps back toward work.

“Oh my god!”

A scream pierced the air behind him.

Yeomyung spun around. For a moment, he thought Arin was flying.

But no.

She was throwing herself in front of an oncoming car.