Between Earth and Elsewhere

The cicadas’ cries reached their crescendo as summer drew to a close, their desperate mating calls echoing through the air like they knew time was running out. The sound reminded Yeomyung of people “looking for a good time” posts flooding dating forums—thirty-somethings crying out into the void. Whether cicada or human, it all came down to the same primal urge: Sex-Sex-Sex, the desperate drive to continue the species.

The middle of fall had that raw desperation.

Why this obsession with continuing the bloodline? What was the point? The next generation would only suffer through climate crises, cursing their ancestors as bastards who brought them into this mess. Though really, Yeomyung thought as he packaged dumplings, even without considering the future. Life held enough pain right now.

Despite early fall having passed, the heat still pressed down like the inside of a steamer. Yeomyung felt like one of the dumplings himself.

He’d returned to the dumpling shop a few days after the incident. Though he was off the job search site’s blacklist and could work anywhere now, something drew him back here. The owner simply handed him an apron when he showed up, just like that first day. Yeomyung accepted it with a slight bow.

For the next month, he worked there daily except Sundays. His thoughts occasionally drifted to Arin. Was she badly hurt? Any broken bones? Could she walk? Had her fragile mental state shattered further? But he’d push these thoughts aside—Arin was living her life somehow. His curiosity wouldn’t change anything.

“Yes, Father. …Yes, I handled it. …You’re sure about this? Once they’re admitted, it’s hard to get them out, even if the family requests it.”

Reflecting on those words now, Yeomyung figured Arin had probably been sent to a mental facility or group home. Guilt would creep in sometimes—should he have kept quiet? Could he have saved her from institutionalization? But he tried to dismiss these useless thoughts. If he were truly guilty, the police or courts would have held him responsible. Instead, here he was, selling dumplings.

Just as Yeomyung’s misfortune was his fate, so too was Arin’s her own. The memory of her faded faster than expected, like steam rising from the cooker—at first so thick it seemed to cloud everything, then vanishing without a trace.

This was Yeomyung’s life. It had been, and would continue to be. How else could he live? He would die doing exactly the same thing. The thought wasn’t tragic or sad anymore; it was simply reality.

A tap on his arm interrupted his thoughts.

He turned to find the owner holding out a card, which Yeomyung took automatically. “I’ll be back,” he said, removing his apron before heading out to the bicycle parked in front.

The owner always sent him on lunch runs, and despite working in a dumpling shop, the man had surprisingly particular tastes. A ten-minute ride away stood a small sandwich shop on a building’s ground floor, where the owner ordered the same thing daily.

Yeomyung had fallen into eating sandwiches for lunch too. Not because the owner suggested it—he just found it easier to stick to one thing. Food was food, as long as it filled his stomach.

He parked his bike outside the sandwich shop. The bell tinkled as he pushed open the glass door.

“Welcome.”

Yeomyung froze in the doorway.

There was a girl at the counter, one he didn’t recognize. The silence stretched between them until another tinkle broke it as the sandwich shop owner entered, carrying a box of milk. He brushed past Yeomyung and headed for the counter.

The girl quickly took the milk box as the owner instructed, “Put this in the fridge. Remember—longer expiration dates go to the back, like we did this morning.”

“Yes, boss.”

She vanished into the kitchen while Yeomyung stood rooted to the spot, as if seeing a ghost.

“Two ham and cheese again today?” the owner asked, already starting to prepare the sandwiches.

“…Yes,” Yeomyung managed, slowly approaching the counter.

The owner glanced at Yeomyung. “Something on your mind?”

“You… hired a new person.”

“Yeah, she started yesterday. You wouldn’t have seen her since it was Sunday.” Though Yeomyung had spoken softly, the owner’s voice carried clearly into the kitchen.

Yeomyung’s eyes darted between the owner and the kitchen entrance. The owner wiped his hands, continuing, “Been rough without help these past few days. One night I even fell asleep without washing up.”

Yeomyung stood there, unsettled. The girl looked exactly like Arin.

“People say jobs are scarce these days,” the owner went on, bits of saliva landing on the sandwich he was preparing, “but finding workers isn’t easy either. Weird, isn’t it? Job seekers say there’s no work, owners say there’s no workers—and we’re all in the same country! But I lucked out this time. That girl’s quick with her hands, diligent, friendly, picks things up fast.”

He glanced toward the kitchen and lowered his voice. “Though we’ll need to wait and see.”

Quick hands, diligent, friendly, fast learner… Maybe it wasn’t Arin? Just someone who looked similar? But the resemblance was uncanny—put her in a white dress with her hair down and she’d be Arin’s mirror image.

Yet could it really be her? Could someone just… stop being crazy? Could her mind, which had snapped so completely that day, somehow reset after the accident?

That seemed impossible.

Besides, this new person showed no sign of recognizing him. If she were Arin, wouldn’t she have started rambling about aliens the moment she saw him? Or accused him of almost killing her?

No, logic said this was just someone who happened to look like Arin. Come to think of it, didn’t all pretty women share certain features? Small white faces, big eyes, straight noses… Though Yeomyung hadn’t seen enough pretty women in his life to be sure—maybe they all just looked alike to him if they were beautiful.

The girl emerged from the kitchen. Yeomyung wanted to study her face but knew he couldn’t stare without raising suspicion.

“Should I include wet wipes and napkins?” she asked the owner.

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you.”

Her voice was like Arin’s too… though he couldn’t be certain. Women’s voices often sounded similar, and Arin had always spoken either in desperate pleas or rapid bursts. He’d never heard her speak normally.

But how could someone so unstable transform into someone this… ordinary? Besides, Arin came from money. She wouldn’t need to work in a sandwich shop.

“Shall I give this to that customer?” the girl asked.

“Yeah.”

She approached Yeomyung, who swallowed hard as she handed him the bag. “Here’s your ham and cheese sandwich order.”

As he took it, he risked a proper look at her face. No mistake—the resemblance was uncanny. But her eyes lacked that haunted quality he remembered in Arin’s.

Yeomyung left quickly, glancing back to see if she might follow. The shop remained quiet.

He mounted his bicycle and began pedaling.

***

“Two ham and cheese, right?”

“Yes.”

Yeomyung kept coming to the sandwich shop daily, watching the new worker carefully, but nothing strange ever happened. He grew more convinced she wasn’t Arin—just someone who happened to look remarkably similar. What were the odds that two near-identical people would appear in his life one after another?

Besides, he realized, even if she was Arin, it hardly mattered. She was just someone who handed him sandwiches at lunch. Whoever did that job wouldn’t change his life.

“Here’s your ham and cheese sandwich order.”

Yeomyung took the bag.

“I’ve included a sample of our new menu item—butter and strawberry jam sandwich. Two quarter-sized pieces, since you’re ordering for two.” The girl smiled brightly, then her expression shifted to alarm. “Oh! I almost forgot the napkins!”

She darted to the counter and back.

Yeomyung thought the napkins unnecessary but said nothing.

“Have a nice day.”

***

“Ham and cheese?” The sandwich shop girl flashed two fingers as Yeomyung entered. He nodded.

The owner hadn’t been around lately, seemingly leaving everything to her. Yeomyung handed over two packs of dumplings.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“My boss asked me to give these to you…”

“Oh, thank you. You didn’t have to… I’ll share them with your boss when he comes in tonight. Please tell him thanks and that I’ll enjoy them.”

“Okay.”

Yeomyung gazed out the window, waiting for his order. Then something clicked. He’d never mentioned that the dumpling shop owner was a man.

He turned to look at the girl, hesitating when he found her already watching him. He couldn’t tell how long she’d been staring.

She smiled. “Ah, my mistake.”