Between Earth and Elsewhere

Yeomyung’s gaze fell to the table, where two crumpled soju packs lay drained dry, alongside a bag of snacks.

The sandwich shop girl sat hugging her knees, wearing a loose t-shirt and shorts. She clutched one of the soju packs, her eyes fixed on Yeomyung’s face before drifting down to his hand.

Yeomyung glanced between their hands and held out his bag.

“Isn’t that your dinner?” she asked.

“Have it,” he said, placing the dumplings on the table.

As he turned to leave, she spoke up. “Aren’t you going to eat with me?”

“No.”

“It’s too much for me alone.”

“Throw it away.”

“I can’t throw away something your boss put his heart and soul into. Where’s your loyalty?”

Her words sparked an unexpected pang of guilt in Yeomyung. Was it because he couldn’t dismiss the food so easily now, or was he just looking for an excuse to stay?

Either way, he pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

It would only be a moment, he told himself. They’d share the dumplings, exchange small talk, say goodbye until tomorrow, and that would be it.

Just another fleeting moment on a late summer evening. Yeomyung decided it was fine to enjoy it for what it was.

A warm breeze carried the faint smell of alcohol from her direction. Her eyes were slightly reddened from drinking.

“Damn mosquito…” She slapped her arm and wiped her palm against the table. Catching Yeomyung’s eye, she added quickly, “I’m not like this when I make sandwiches. I’m really strict about hygiene.”

She opened the bag and pulled out a dumpling, gasping at the steam still rising from it. “Wow.”

Before Yeomyung could offer chopsticks, she grabbed a dumpling with her mosquito-smeared hand and popped it in her mouth.

“Wow, this is good,” she said, puffing at the heat. “Have some.”

“…Sure.”

Feeling self-conscious about using chopsticks alone, Yeomyung picked up a dumpling with his hand.

She held up her soju pack. “This is all I’ve got left… You should at least have a drink. I’d treat you, but I spent everything on this.”

“I’m good.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“How old are you?” she finally asked.

“Twenty-five.”

“Oh… me too.”

She took a sip from her pack.

Twenty-five. Yeomyung thought it was a good age. One of the few things he’d received fairly, just like everyone else. But what could he do with youth? It felt like getting an expensive watch strap without owning a watch. Somehow, he sensed the girl beside him felt the same way.

Or maybe that was just his imagination.

“What’s your name?” she asked. “I see you often enough… I can’t keep calling you ‘Dumpling.’”

“Yeomyung Jeong.”

She nodded.

He debated asking her name in return. He had no real reason to know it—he’d never use it. But since she’d asked his, it seemed polite.

“What’s your name?”

“If you’re not curious, you don’t have to ask,” she said.

“I am curious… though.” His voice came out smaller than intended.

She let out a soft laugh. “Daeun Kim.”

Yeomyung nodded.

It felt like ages since he’d exchanged names with someone. Though that wasn’t really worth dwelling on—a surname was just random chance, a first name merely parents’ whims.

Beyond these formalities, there was one thing he really wanted to ask. If he didn’t do it now, in this fleeting moment, he might never get another chance.

“What did you mean by what you said earlier?” he asked.

“Which part?”

“…That you’d want to kill someone if no one knew.”

“Oh, that…” Daeun tilted her head. “Ah, from when I mentioned that old lady? Hmm… It’s just something I think about often. Don’t you? Like, if I’d been born into a slightly better family, everything would be different. Why are the people who ruined my life so confident? Why do I have to keep living with them? I can’t throw them away, and they won’t let me go either. Dying would be easiest, but I can’t do that. So if no one knew… I’d kill them myself. Haven’t you ever thought that way?”

“Do you hate your family?”

“Hmm…” She furrowed her brow. “It’d be simpler if I could just hate them. That’s the problem—I can’t.”

“…”

“When I was little, we used to visit this mountain near our house. There was… what’s it called… Ah, a beacon tower? One of those old signal towers from wartime… You know what I mean?”

“Yeah.”

“I wanted to climb it so badly. But there was this sign: ‘Do not climb. Fine: several hundred thousand won.’ I was disappointed, but then my dad asked if I wanted to go up. When I nodded, he said he’d hold my hand. I hesitated, wondering if it was okay, but he just lifted me up. He told me that as long as he was there, I could do whatever I wanted. That I should just follow my heart, and he’d handle everything else.”

Yeomyung listened quietly. He wasn’t sure why she was telling him this, but he kept listening anyway.

“When you have memories like that,” she said, “you can’t just hate someone completely, no matter how horrible they become.”

“…”

“That’s why family is so suffocating. There’s no other solution but to kill them.”

Daeun sucked on her empty soju pack, drawing only air through the straw.

A strange sense of relief washed over Yeomyung.

Finally, he understood that odd duality he’d carried all his life—wanting both to kill and save his family. And he wasn’t alone in these strange feelings. Daeun had spoken about them as naturally as discussing the weather.

When was the last time he’d felt this kind of warmth, as gentle as the summer night air? Even if it vanished after tonight, it felt good to experience it, just this once.

“Don’t people say something when you talk like that?” he asked.

“Say what?”

“That you shouldn’t think that way. That it’s wrong…”

“Ah. That’s because they’re scared. They worry if they think like that, they might actually do it. But it’s not like that, right? People assume you only want to kill someone when they’ve done something terrible, but I want to kill someone even for bumping my shoulder in summer. Still, I’ve never done it. If I acted on every murderous thought, I’d have killed thirty people today. Actually, the ones who keep telling themselves ‘I can’t think that way’ are more likely to snap one day and do it.”

Was he, then, more moderate and less dangerous than others?

…No, that would be too quick a judgment. Besides, this girl didn’t seem to fit into the usual categories.

“But honestly,” Daeun added, “I don’t usually say things like that.”

Yeomyung nodded, wondering silently why she’d chosen to share such thoughts with him.

But he didn’t ask.

“I just felt like… you wouldn’t see it in a bad way,” Daeun said, as if sensing his curiosity.

Yeomyung watched her in silence.

“Just a feeling,” she continued. “Like no matter what I said, you’d just think, ‘Oh, that’s how it is,’ and move on. Since it doesn’t really have anything to do with you, right?”

Her words startled him. They mirrored his own thoughts too closely. Was it that obvious to others? Or was she just particularly perceptive?

He didn’t pursue it, just nodded.

“That’s why I’m a bit surprised right now,” Daeun said.

Yeomyung looked at her questioningly.

“You’re showing a lot of interest in what I said,” she added.

Yeomyung felt exposed, yet relieved. He was almost glad she’d noticed. Still, something in him instinctively drew back.

“Most people don’t say things like that…” Yeomyung said, “so it got me thinking. Made me wonder why you said it.”

“Hmm.” She nodded casually.

Though he’d meant for her to drop it, her casual response left him oddly disappointed. If she’d asked, “What about you? Do you like your family?” what would he have said? Would he have been honest? Was he actually hoping she’d ask?

The thought made him realize he needed to leave. If he stayed, tonight might seep into tomorrow.

He couldn’t allow that. This was how people got entangled.

Fighting the urge to stay, he stood. “I think I should go now.”

Daeun didn’t try to keep him. That, too, disappointed him.

Disappointed? How quickly emotions could shift from such simple exchanges. It was always these small moments that stirred the heart deepest, these trivial conversations that could shake someone’s world.

He didn’t want to be swept away by such things.

“See you tomorrow?” she asked calmly.

“I guess so.”

“See you tomorrow.”

He gave a slight nod and left, walking slowly away, his footsteps echoing. At the edge of the streetlights, he glanced back.

Daeun was staring straight into the shadows where Yeomyung stood.

***

Yeomyung checked the time. The buses were still running. He turned to check the electronic signboard.

“…”

“…Are you heading home?”

He considered pretending not to hear, but Seorin had already spoken.

“Oh, yes,” he said, turning around.

He felt he should say more but couldn’t find the words.

He glanced at her. She seemed distracted, lost in thought.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Oh… no, not really…”

She didn’t seem interested in sharing, and Yeomyung understood—he wouldn’t want to discuss his personal life either.

Silence settled between them.

His thoughts drifted to Daeun. Should he tell Seorin? But what would he say? That someone who looked exactly like her sister worked nearby, but probably wasn’t her? That they were remarkably alike?

It felt pointless, so he kept quiet.

Some people couldn’t stand brief moments of awkwardness, filling them with small talk. Yeomyung wasn’t like that. Still, courtesy demanded something.

“How’s your sister doing?”

“My sister…” Seorin’s words faded into nothing as she stared into the distance.

The bus pulled up to the stop. The sight seemed to snap her back to reality.

“Oh… I’ll see you next time.”

Next time? When was that supposed to be? She seemed somehow absent. Without elaborating, she boarded the bus.

Through the window, Yeomyung caught sight of Seorin’s deeply furrowed brow.

The bus pulled away, and he stood watching until it disappeared from view.