Chickens and the Bicycle
Let’s go back and figure out how things ended up like this. I blamed it on Cha Jun-jae’s habit of fixating on pointless things. The sound of the bicycle wheels rolling only made my irritation worse. We walked along the coastal path near the white waves, Cha Jun-jae and I. His gaze drifted toward the sea as he gripped the handlebars. Those dark eyes of his caught the orange sunlight, carrying a different kind of charm than they had when he was young.
Most people go through an awkward phase where they get less attractive as they grow up, don’t they? I was meticulous about my appearance now, but back in school I’d traded snacks for my figure. Yet Cha Jun-jae had eaten whatever he wanted, gone through the same teenage years, and somehow avoided even the usual graduation-photo humiliation.
I believed God could play favorites. After all, even I had clear likes and dislikes. But this was too much. Keeping someone so blessed by heaven right beside me for this long felt excessive.
“Jun-jae.”
The wind had tousled his hair, and he looked content. His relaxed expression as he took in the scenery only made my stomach twist.
“Thanks for walking me this far. You really didn’t have to.”
“Is this your lodging?”
As if. I wasn’t about to sleep on the roadside. Cha Jun-jae’s smile slowly faded as he looked up at the seedy-looking pub. I hurried to correct the misunderstanding before it took root.
“No. I told you I don’t work here. It’s… down that alley. The road’s a bit rough. Smells, horse dung, you know. I was surprised the first time I came through…”
“Over there?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s go. I’ll take you.”
Even as he said it, his eyes weren’t smiling. I knew him well enough. Cha Jun-jae had a weak stomach; he wouldn’t even touch raw fish. I linked my arm through his with an air of reluctant permission and stopped at the mouth of the alley.
“I’m serious, you don’t have to. I know the way better than you do. If you get lost after spending all that time here, you’ll end up at the hospital, you know?”
“Hmm. Maybe.”
“See? You don’t really want to either, right?”
“You just don’t want to show me where you’re staying.”
Cha Jun-jae’s slow voice pointed out exactly what I was trying to hide. My irritation slowly cooled.
“That’s not it.”
He dipped his head once, clearly amused, then looked back at me with a small laugh. Before I could stop him, he walked straight into the alley on his own. I stood there, stunned. Did he even know the way?
“Hey, Jun-jae.”
I shook my head and tried to pull myself together. I had to chase this fox out before he could settle into my comfortable little nest. Luckily, I knew his few weaknesses. Today’s plan had been built around one of them. I hurried after him, feet already sweating, and caught up to walk beside him.
“Aren’t those pants expensive? They’ll get splashed with mud.”
“It’s fine.”
“Your shoes will be ruined too.”
“It’s fine.”
No matter what I said, he gave the same robotic answer. He’d always been like that. Once he decided he wanted something, he showed a stubborn drive he didn’t normally have. After a certain point, not even his ancestors could stop him. I stomped my feet inwardly while forcing a casual smile.
“Oh, haha, look over there.”
Cha Jun-jae’s eyes widened slightly after walking on nothing but paved roads. The alley floor, a mess of mud and clay, must have been shocking enough. I’d once seen a monitor lizard crawl right under a woman hanging laundry. Today, instead of the rare lizard, we got the local alley thugs. I added a little exaggeration, hoping for a reaction.
“They just let these things run around loose. See those? They’re delinquents. Chickens that fly—literally fly at you.”
The white chickens, black chickens, and speckled ones had a presence completely unlike Korean chickens, and their size was downright wrestler-like. Watching them peck at feed with those dramatic neck movements, you could almost believe the rumor that chickens were descendants of dinosaurs. I usually avoided them by pedaling as fast as I could on the bicycle. Early on, when I’d tried walking, they’d flown at me looking for a fight.
Today I squared my shoulders at the sight of four particularly menacing chickens and glanced sideways at Cha Jun-jae, expecting to see his face twisted in fear.
“Scared… right?”
I ended up meeting his eyes instead of avoiding them. I wasn’t sure when he’d started watching me—after we entered the alley, or before—but he wasn’t frightened at all. He just smiled brightly.
“Eun-dam, are you scared of chickens?”
He couldn’t even eat raw fish. He made that disgusted face whenever he saw anything with scales. And he was actually terrified. I wanted to expose his hypocrisy. I glared at him and snapped,
“They’re huge. They look small from here, but if you get close they’ll chase you with their beaks. They think you’re food.”
“You’re scared of chickens.”
“Of course I am. Aren’t you?”
“Then why do you live here?”
Without realizing it, my voice had risen as we debated why chickens were frightening. Then his last question came out in an extremely low tone. I flinched and bit my lip. His indifferent eyes felt like a whip. It sounded as if staying on this island despite being afraid of chickens was somehow my fault. Hurt, I looked away. Cha Jun-jae stopped the bicycle, as if he still had more to say.
“I’m scared, but I came here on vacation anyway. I’ll just have to live running away.”
“You’re that scared of them?”
Cha Jun-jae sometimes spoke as if his focus had slipped. It usually felt like he had no interest in other people’s thoughts or lives. Maybe other people called that kind of person “otherworldly.” I just wanted to call him a psychopath.
“I am scared. So I’ll ride the bicycle alone and go fast. See you later. If you walk to that point, you’ll see the horse carriages right away.”
At that, Cha Jun-jae nodded and reached out to pull the brake. I felt relieved for a moment—until I realized he wasn’t turning back. Instead, he walked slowly around behind me. Before I could say anything, his arms wrapped around my waist. I was suddenly lifted off the ground, eyes wide. All I could manage was “Uh, uh—” My feet kicked uselessly in the air while my body lost all control. My lips parted slowly in shock.
Accepting that his hands were on my waist was difficult enough. At the same time, my nose caught the scent of his cologne. It reminded me of a clear sky and made me want to ask what brand it was, pride be damned. Before I could tell him to put me down, my feet touched the ground again. Cha Jun-jae set me on the bicycle seat, turned around, and released the brake. He gripped the handlebars like a pilot taking control.
“No, I’m fine.”
“I’m not scared of chickens.”
“You really don’t have to…”
The whole time I shook my head, I was facing his broad chest. His shirt looked even whiter than usual, as if he’d dressed up. Whether it was the cologne or just his natural scent, something about him made my head spin. In the end I clutched my head and stared straight ahead.
“If you’re going… just go quickly.”
“Okay.”
Having gotten what he wanted, Cha Jun-jae hummed a little tune as he started pedaling. His strong hands on the handlebars, the constant scent of his cologne now that I’d noticed it—Cha Jun-jae’s presence filled the entire alley. From now on, every time I passed through here, I’d probably remember being carried on this bicycle like helpless cargo.
Foxes eat chickens. I’d been the fool for thinking he would hate them.