The Curving Line
Development was postponed for three days.
I had decided three days ago to build a millstone. What I have in front of me now is not a millstone, but a lump of limestone.
Let me make an excuse. The priorities here work like this.
If I build a millstone, I'll be able to eat wheat easily. Good. But that takes half a year.
If I carve the stone finely, in a week I can use the middle of the cave for two days.
Isn't the development of humanity originally like this? Not because of some great goal, but because of something right in front of my eyes.
Anyway, I decided to carve the stone.
On the first day, I carved Umba's face.
I spent four days on it during the week. The broad snout, the nostrils attached to the top, the eye sockets.
It came out well. Really well. One of the cave kids passed by and said "It's Umba" when he recognized it.
On the fourth night, I threw it into the pond.
The sound of it sinking into the water made my hand tremble.
It wasn't because I couldn't make it that I threw it. I threw it because it was made too well.
It was just a hippopotamus. Broad, fat, no fur at all. Exactly the beast that from the ridge was grabbing its nose and making a face.
What happens if you put that in the middle of the cave? Our kids clap. And the next day, the kids from the fur tribe come to watch and laugh again.
I wasn't doing this to get claps from our kids.
I wanted to make something that no one could laugh at. When you see it, the laugh freezes in your throat.
On the fifth morning, I went into the water.
I held my breath and went down to the bottom of the pond. The mud was murky, then settled, and then Umba appeared.
Until then, I had only seen Umba outside the water.
Outside the water, it's heavy. Every time it walks, the flesh flops, feet get stuck in the mud, breathing is rough. On land, it looks like it's being forced to stand.
Underwater was different.
Umba didn't walk.
With the tips of its feet, it pushed the bottom.
Then the big body rose entirely.
Forward and upward.
It rose like that for a while, then slowly sank as strength ran out. And when the tips of its feet touched the bottom, it pushed again. Rose again.
Push. Rose. Sunk. Push. Rose. Sunk.
I watched that and forgot to hold my breath.
It was a parabola.
The ball thrown in PE class, the curve drawn in physics class. It was now being drawn in the body of a 1.5-ton beast underwater.
It wasn't one. It continued.
What happens if parabolas continue one after another?
It becomes a curving line.
A line that flows up and down like waves or snakes, curving.
Where did I see that line?
I saw it on the hem of a hanbok, on the eaves of a temple, on the flag of a historical drama, and on the back of a 50,000 won bill.
It was a dragon.
East Asian dragons have no wings. If you ask how they fly without wings, no one can answer. They just rise while curving. Bending their bodies like waves, they go to the sky.
I had never been curious why it was shaped like that in my life.
Now, in front of my eyes, the hippopotamus was doing that.
For it, the water was the sky. Underwater, it had no weight. It was rising while curving.
And it exhaled.
From the nostrils, a string of silver beads rose. One, two, a dozen or so. Reflecting the sunlight underwater like mercury, it rose to the surface and burst.
Yeouiju.
Shit.
It wasn't the dragon holding the yeouiju in its mouth, but spitting it out while rising. Or maybe not, but to my eyes, it looked like that, and now I can never forget this.
On land, it was a lump.
Underwater, it was a line.
I watched until my chest tightened so much I couldn't bear it anymore, and even a little more.
I came out of the water and panted for a long time. My vision flashed white.
And with wet hands, I drew the line in the mud.
Long. Curving.
From the fifth day to the seventh day, I almost didn't sleep.
Tools: three. Thick splitting stone, shaping flint, and finally rubbing with wet sand.
The first stone split in half a day. There was a crack inside. The second stone broke because I carved the neck too thin. At that time, I was sitting holding the broken piece. Three days left.
From the third, I carved while pouring water. If dry, fragments fly into the eyes and make noise. Pouring water makes the flint not slip.
First, I made the body. Long. Very long. A line closer to the flow of water than to a beast. I wrapped it once in the middle. At the curving point.
Legs: four short and thick. I left them as is for the hippopotamus. So our kids could recognize it.
The snout was opened wide. The lower jaw completely fell off, the throat opening, the shape of stopping a hyena. I made the two front teeth larger than actual. After all, people remember larger than actual. And I corrected it, made the teeth sharp and cool.
It took two days to carve inside the throat. My left thumb nail was half-raised, and blood came out. I rubbed that finger on Umba's nape. The spot where red was left didn't fester even at night.
On the back, I carved six lines. From the nape down the spine. The spot where red flows.
On the last morning of the seventh day, I added one more.
Two lines extending long from both sides of the open mouth backward.
Because the water flow flowing in front of Umba's snout underwater kept getting in the way of my eyes, I added it, but after carving all, it turned out to be whiskers.
With whiskers attached, the stone suddenly looked submerged in the water.
I didn't add horns. I hadn't thought of that.
That was much later.
On the seventh day, I passed by the place where I was tanning leather again.
It wasn't that I passed by again, but I passed by three times a day. Gat was right. No one in the cave didn't know him.
Nuri was sitting with deer leather spread on her lap.
She was splitting the tendon thread with her teeth to make it thin. When she held the thread in her mouth and tilted her head back, the neck line stretched out.
She let out a soft sound.
Aren't these people naked in this era? I adapted in a week and now I can't see other people's bodies. Really. It's just scenery.
But this person can't be.
This person is doing that while splitting one thread.
Then she turns her upper body forward to spread the leather on her lap, I turned my head.
My waist became a bit stiff.
I need civilization. I now know why clothes were made. It wasn't because it was not covered, but because there was something to cover.
"What are you doing."
"...I'm not doing anything."
"Have you finished carving the stones?"
"Yeah."
"What did you carve?"
"You'll see when you look."
Nuri looked at me while holding the thread. Then lowered her head again.
"Then I'll show you too."
The competition was held on the seventh evening in the middle of the cave.
The big ones gathered in a circle inside. One big fire, people came out holding things wrapped in leather.
Eleven stones came out.
Six were hippopotamus faces. The rest were two fish, one footprint, one round shape that fits perfectly in the hand. Gat who broke his nose made a baby Coco face, and honestly, it was carved finely. People laughed. Good laughter.
For my turn, I placed it on the rock.
The laughter stopped.
More precisely, the sound itself stopped. Only the sound of burning and the breathing of animals outside remained.
No one knew what it was.
After a while, one kid asked.
"Is that Umba?"
I looked at that kid. And the entire cave. Mar elder was looking at me with his one good eye. Half of it, the eye Hara had said.
"Umba."
I said.
"Umba when in the water."
"Umba wasn't shaped like that."
"Have you ever gone into the water?"
The kid shook his head.
"Go in and see."
I stroked the curved waist of the stone with my finger.
"Underwater, it doesn't walk. It floats. Feet don't touch the ground. When it pushes the bottom like this, it rises, then sinks, and rises again."
I drew the line in the air with my hand.
"It continues. The body curves upward."
The cave was quiet.
"And when it exhales, silver beads rise one after another. They rise to the water surface and burst."
A few people turned their heads towards the pond. Even though it was night and only black water was visible, they turned.
"On the back, six lines."
I pointed to the six lines.
"Do you all know what this is. When it comes out of the water, red flows here. We've seen it since we were born. But no one has asked why they flow."
"...Why do they flow."
"Because the ground isn't that beast's place."
The only thing I invented was the reason. The rest were all truths.
So it went down well.
One woman sitting quietly asked.
"Ur. Then when will those go back."
I didn't expect that question.
"...What?"
"If their place is underwater, won't they come back someday. When our protection ends."
The fire popped.
I don't know what I should have said then. That day, I said this.
"...Not yet."
That was the scariest thing I said that day. It wasn't invented.
Mar elder stood up. Limping, he came and picked up the stone with both hands. He looked at it for a long time. He turned it over in front of the firelight, and with his fingertips, he traced each of the six lines on the back down.
Then he didn't put it down again. He placed it on his own lap and sat down.
That was the answer.
Eight clothes came out.
The first seven were all good clothes. Sturdy, well dyed, clothes that could save a person in winter.
Just that.
Nuri was the last.
There was a pattern on the leather.
No one puts patterns on clothes here. Because thread is precious. To pull one tendon thread, you have to skin a beast leg and use it all for sewing, it's not enough.
But Nuri split that thread thinner than her hair. Divided one into four. So, with the remaining thread, she inserted a long line on the back.
A line starting from the shoulders, wrapping once at the waist, and going down again.
Next to it, six short sweat lines.
This was the first stone I had taken out in the evening today.
Every time the firelight flickered, that line shook on the leather together. Like in the water.
"...When did you see it."
"Last night three days ago."
Nuri said softly.
"When you were carving at the pond. From behind."
"Why didn't you tell me."
"Because I might not complete it. If I know there's someone watching from behind, my hands get stiff."
The cave was bustling. Between the bustling sounds, an old woman laughed "ki ki". Then everyone laughed. Gat slapped my back.
Mar elder, with the stone on his knee, said.
"The stone is Ur's."
"The clothes are Nuri's."
The elder spread two fingers.
"Both received prizes. The rule said. The prize doesn't go to the person in the place. Each chooses the person they want. If they choose each other, it's two days."
What should I say? My throat stuck.
The guy who shook the entire cave just now couldn't open his mouth.
Nuri stood up first.
Then she spread the clothes and put them on my shoulders.
The clothes with the long line on the back.
Looking at the elder, she said.
"Two days."
The cave flipped upside down.
From here, my memory is a bit cut off.
Really. I don't remember who pushed me, who shouted what, what Gat whispered in my ear.
When I came to my senses again, I was sitting.
In the middle of the cave.
The fire had already subsided, only the charcoal was red. The people's voices were far away. Outside, the animals were gathered in a circle breathing.
And next to me, Nuri was sitting.
Very close.
At a distance where shoulders almost touch.
I was measuring that distance. One palm? Half palm?
Nothing learned in thirty some years of life in the previous life was useful here. No alcohol, no good lighting, no songs to play.
Only one charcoal fire and stars and the sound of animal breathing.
I fiddled with the clothes draped on my shoulder.
"...This."
"Yeah."
"You made it well."
Shit.
The worst first words in human history.
Nuri laughed. With that face where the corners of her eyes were down.
And half a palm disappeared.
Someone will say. Aren't you washing? I'll say. Maybe I already washed thoroughly in the corners. Then Nuri?
Is this important now. When I look at Nuri, my lower body always gets stiff, so I try to avoid the gaze. Nuri's appearance and body are too excellent. Her waist is narrow, her butt is appropriately raised, and her breasts are a size that would overflow if you squeeze with your hand. After a week, other people's bodies became scenery, but this person couldn't become scenery no matter what.
Separately from my head spinning with various thoughts, my body was frozen like during the ice age. Suddenly, a warm, soft touch on my shoulder, I, still stiff, turned to the side.
Nuri, who had come closer by half a palm again, instead showed a playful smile as if her tension was slowly loosening, and reached out her hand. The fingertips slowly stroked the back of the clothes hanging on my shoulder. The long line starting from the shoulder, wrapping once and going down. Exactly the pattern of the stone I carved.
"This."
Nuri said in a low voice.
"The one you made."
Her hand went down following the line, then stopped at the waist. That fingertip was firm. The hand that had split the tendon thread with teeth and pushed the bone needle. I felt the calluses. A rough yet precise touch came into the skin.
I held my breath.
At that time, the scent came.
For a week, I had adapted by giving up human scent, animal scent, mud scent, everything. My nose was raised. But this person's scent didn't work. The scent mixed with soil, leather, and sunlight, different from anyone else. While tickling, passing by the leather tanning, deliberately avoiding that.
As it seeped into my nostrils, my head went white.
Suddenly, very briefly, the memory of young Ur brushed past. The hand that poured a basin of water and offered it. The scent felt on the back while being carried. At that time, it was just a familiar scent, but now it had become the scent that made my genitals hard. Shit. Because my body's memory and what I feel overlapped, it felt like it would go crazy.
"...Nuri."
"Yeah."
"Right now here... everything is heard."
The sound of animals outside rolled low. Their breathing gathered in a circle. Because the surroundings are open, even small sounds leak out. Even knowing that, Nuri didn't erase her smile.
"I know."
Nuri grabbed my hand back and pulled it to her thigh. The callused palm covered my hand back. The temperature was different. Completely different from the heavy, slow warmth felt when sleeping next to a hippopotamus. Thin, fast warmth. Human body temperature.
I grabbed the hem of the clothes. I traced the long line on the back with my fingers. From the shoulder down to the waist. Following the pattern, my hand stopped. There was no more clothes below it. It had never been there from the beginning.
Nuri grabbed my wrist and pulled me a little closer. The shoulders fully touched. At the moment flesh met flesh, the other person's body that had been scenery for a week suddenly was not scenery. It felt like permission to look was given.
I slowly turned my head.
Nuri's face was close in front of my eyes. The smile with the corners of her eyes down was still there. Her lips moved.
"Ur."
"...Yeah."
"Breathe."
Shit. I was breathing. Too big.
Nuri's hand came down from my nape. The calluses brushed the nape, passed the shoulder blade, went down the spine. Like the six lines I carved on the stone. That hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer.
