Momma, I'm Hungry!
I'm hungry, Momma, food! …………… Catalina touched the nylon rope again. Ma Hyuksu was really asleep this time. So if she slipped out now, she could just end it. Sneak up quietly, loop it around his neck, done. Come dawn, stuff the body in a black trash bag and dump it in a ditch. Just like always.
But for some reason, her body wouldn't move.
That first day they'd met, the man hadn't puked even surrounded by six corpses. Most people would've gone into shock or pissed themselves at a slaughter like that. But he'd just frozen up. Hard to put it into words exactly. If she had to describe it, though… it felt like someone who'd brushed up against death so many times, the fear had dulled.
Honestly? That might've been kinda appealing.
"Ha. What kinda bullshit thought is that?"
Catalina mocked herself. It had to be because a guy had rejected her for the first time in her life, throwing her off. Yeah, that was it. Anyway, this Eastern guy named Ma Hyuksu—scared, sure, but he didn't break. He knew she could kill him anytime, yet he still refused to the end. Said he didn't want a relationship without love.
"Interesting guy."
She shoved the nylon rope back in the drawer. Not yet. There was still time until transport day. She could let him live that long. She pulled out her Glock 19 and checked the mag. Seventeen rounds. Racked the slide to chamber one. Back to bed, she slid the pistol under the pillow. Lying there, she stared up at the ceiling.
Before drifting off, Catalina realized something. Letting someone else into her home, sharing the space to sleep. It was a first.
……………
The next morning, I woke up on the sofa, my whole body aching. The military blanket had kept me warm, but the couch sucked.
Catalina was already up. She sat at the table disassembling her pistol, oiling each part with practiced ease.
"Sleep well?"
"Back hurts a bit, but yeah, pretty good."
I stretched, my spine popping with a crack.
"Oh, right. Hand over that note now. Guide's contact."
Her hands froze at my words. She set down the pistol parts and wiped the oil off on a rag.
"That? Uh…"
Her expression was weird. Nothing like when she'd killed those pursuers yesterday or come at me naked last night.
"Not yet… can't."
"Huh? Why not?"
"Well, see. Transport day's still a ways off, right? Just help me till then."
She fiddled with the pistol parts on the table, avoiding my eyes. The Catalina I'd seen so far would've barked something like "Shut up and do as I say." Guess she had a shred of conscience left.
"Eh, that's your problem, not mine."
"True, but I asked for help with the transport, yeah? You agreed. So helping till the job's done… that's fair, right?"
Why's she phrasing it like she's asking me? Her voice trailed off weaker, gaze darting, re-wiping the already clean parts. Was last night's rejection bugging her? Or did she really need me?
"So, till when exactly?"
"Uh… three days? Four? Not more than a week, anyway."
First time for such a vague answer. She'd mentioned a set transport date before, so there had to be a firm deadline.
Squeezing every last drop of my labor, huh.
I grumbled inwardly but had no choice. She had the note with the guide's contact—no bolting without it, and I couldn't survive this city solo.
Catalina finished reassembling the pistol and set it on the table.
"Let's eat breakfast. Cans in the fridge."
Canned food again. Dinner last night was canned beans and ham.
Fridge check: all cans. Tuna, beans, ham, even canned peaches.
"This all you got?"
"What's wrong? Not tasty?"
"Not about taste… but eating nothing but cans every meal? Looks like it'll be forever."
I rolled a can of ham in my hand. Sliced and fried over rice, it'd be great. But no rice, no bread. Appetite gone.
Catalina was already forking tuna straight from the can.
"Then starve."
"No other food? Snacks, cup ramen?"
"Nope."
Fuckin' hell…
I shoved a chunk of canned ham in my mouth. Salty, greasy. Mixed with last night's beans, it killed my appetite more.
"Can't eat this."
I dropped the fork.
"I'll buy ingredients and cook. Can't do three meals a day of this crap."
Catalina paused mid-chew on her tuna.
"Cook? You know how?"
"Of course! Korean food you've never tried—way better than cans."
"But that's all we got."
"Go to a market or store, buy stuff."
"No, I can't go out."
Firm refusal.
"Why?"
"This is my safehouse. Don't wanna risk even 1% chance of my face getting spotted. If they find out, dozens'll come swarming with guns."
Made sense. For safety, she shouldn't leave. Smart.
"Then I'll go."
"You?"
"Yeah, mask and hat. Even sharp eyes'll just see an Asian tourist."
"Hm…"
She sighed at my persistence.
"Fine. But you go alone."
She tossed something from a drawer: black mask and baseball cap.
"Wear these. No drawing attention. Buy quiet, come back quiet."
Tossed a wallet too. Local currency inside.
"No bullshit buys. Don't overbuy."
"Got it, got it."
"Corner store's one block away. Opposite direction from those Ermanos bastards' turf. Owner's a fat lady. …Oh, and."
Catalina pulled out a pistol—the Colt M1911 from the guide yesterday.
"Carry this always. Don't leave it anywhere."
"Whoa?! Where'd you—"
"You left it on the table before bed. Who sleeps leaving their gun like that?"
"Ah, haha… yeah."
Grateful nagging. I awkwardly laughed, pulled the cap low, masked up. Tucked the pistol in my waistband against my back. Heading for the door, her voice called from behind.
"Be careful. Don't die."
Glanced back—she was already on the sofa, TV on.
What a tsundere…
……………
The walk to the corner store was more peaceful than expected. Walls had bullet holes, shattered glass littered the roadside. But no hanged corpses like the city entrance.
Pushed open the shop door. Fat lady sat there, glued to a drama on TV.
Basics first.
Rice, tortillas, flour. Onions, tomatoes, bell peppers. Frozen chicken and pork. Garlic, pepper, salt, cooking oil. All set.
Should be enough to make something.
Piled on the counter. She finally looked at me.
"Chino?"
Chino again. Used to it now.
"Korean."
"Ah, Coreano."
She tallied up indifferently. Checked change, grabbed the bag, out.
Bag heavy with ingredients. Pistol pressing my waist, I hustled back.
Knocked on the steel door. Catalina opened.
"Quick."
"No issues."
"I'll cook."
She said, stepping into the kitchen as I set the bag on the table.
"Nah, I got it."
"No, you bought it. I should cook."
Oddly cocky tone. She grabbed a knife, picked up a tomato. Started hacking on the board…
Thunk, thunk, thunk. More hammer than knife. Blade was dull anyway, and she was just smashing it down. Tomato juice everywhere.
"Uh, Catalina?"
"What?"
"You cook often?"
"…Sometimes."
Grabbed an onion. Tried slicing skin-on.
"Wait! Peel first!"
"Oh—right."
Peeling took forever. Half-assed it, scraped with knife. Like peeling potatoes.
Can't watch.
"Be honest. You don't cook, do you?"
Her hands stopped. Knife in hand, silent, then heavy sigh.
"Yeah. Barely ever."
"How barely?"
"Just… opening cans, adding water to cup noodles."
That's not cooking…
"Then why act so confident earlier?"
"I watch your YouTube sometimes? Thought I'd follow that."
YouTube, huh. Ma Hyuksu came here chasing YouTuber dreams, and cartel merc Catalina watches it too. Global appeal.
"Knife work's basic, though."
"Harder than shooting?"
I snatched the knife from her grumbling grip.
"I'll do it. Step aside."
"What? You?"
New tomato on the board. My hand moved naturally. Tap-tap-tap-tap. Onions sliced thin in steady rhythm. Ma Hyuksu's memories flowed into my fingers. Guy worked restaurant kitchens nearly five years. And it wasn't just him—me, Han Minseo, Yeoreum—we'd all cooked before. Knife skills? Blindfolded easy.
"Whoa… damn, you're good."
Sliced peppers fine. Cubed chicken. Oil in pan, garlic and pepperoncino sautéed. Aroma up, onions in till translucent, then chicken.
"Smells good."
Catalina hovered by the pan, watching. Chicken browned outside as it cooked.
Whole tomatoes in, simmered down. Added rinsed rice and secret chicken stock, low simmer till done.
"This… arroz con pollo?"
"Kinda. Roughly followed those videos you watched."
Plated it up. Handed her a spoon. She took a bite. Chewing sounds. Two bites, three. Half gone in seconds.