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# Chapter: Broken Engagement
The saw blade spun at high speed, making a harsh sound as it cut through the metal chain.
The acrid smell of burning wood.
Sawdust scattered like snowflakes.
Wearing safety goggles, I watched the cross-section of the wood being cut.
Exactly 2 mm of allowance.
That figure took shrinkage and expansion into account. Wood continues to breathe even after it dies. It expands when the
weather is humid and contracts when it is dry. That was why I had to calculate even those minute movements.
Thud.
The cut piece of wood fell to the floor.
“Hyung-nim, that’s incredible. There isn’t even a single millimeter of error.”
Siwoo, who had been standing beside me with a vacuum cleaner at the ready, let out an admiring exclamation.
The guy was tall and had sculpted features. It had been over a year since he had quit working as a model and come
looking for me, saying he wanted to learn a trade.
“Of course. I’ve been doing this for over ten years.”
I took off my safety goggles and brushed the sawdust off my work clothes.
Thirty-four.
Kang Gi-jun.
That was my name.
From elementary school until my third year of high school, I practiced judo. I was pretty good at it. No, considering I
had even made the national youth team, I suppose I could say I was quite a promising athlete.
Back then, throwing and pinning my opponents on the mat was my entire world. But I never imagined that a traffic
accident would shatter my pelvis and forcibly derail my life.
When that unfortunate accident made it impossible for me to throw anyone anymore, I chose to do the opposite: to build
things.
That was how I came to work in interior construction and live the life of a carpenter.
Changing hands that had once thrown people into hands that carved wood was more natural than I had expected.
A life that smelled of wood instead of sweat.
It wasn't bad. No, if anything, I liked it.
My workshop, 'KIjun,' tucked away in the old metalworking alleyways of Mullae-dong, was my second life itself.
“Siwoo, give me the sander.”
“Yes, hyung-nim!”
Siwoo promptly handed me the sander.
Whenever I looked at him, I could see my younger self overlapping with him. A guy who had stepped down from a glamorous
stage and entered a rough worksite.
At first, I thought he wouldn't last more than a few days because of his pretty face. To put it nicely, he was
easygoing; to put it badly, he was a bit of a smart-ass, so I figured he would quit before long.
But the guy quietly covered himself in sawdust and quietly hauled heavy sheets of plywood.
I grew fond of him because of how admirable he was. I taught him the trade, passed on my know-how, and we were working
together to grow even further.
Siwoo grinned and asked me,
“Hyung-nim, I saw the pictures you posted of the wedding hall. It was really beautiful, wasn't it?”
“Yeah. Whew... But even that isn't easy. Why is there so much to it? I thought you just made a reservation and that was
it, but apparently not.”
“It’s difficult. There’s a lot to look into. By the way, even after seeing it again, I'm still jealous. You're marrying
a woman who's beautiful and capable, just like your fiancée. Hyung-nim, you must have saved the entire country in your
previous life.”
“Quit talking nonsense and sweep the floor. You're kicking up dust.”
I answered indifferently, but there was no reason to hide the smile spreading across my lips.
I was getting married soon.
Seyeon.
To my fiancée.
She was a woman who wasn't ashamed of my tough, scar-covered profession or my hands. At least, that's how she was in
front of me.
We had met at a Japanese language academy. Since I hadn't gone to college, I had always had a small desire to study. I
had been diligently studying Japanese because I wanted to get even a little closer to Tadao Ando, the architect I
admired and wanted to emulate the most. That was where I met her.
When I thought about it, everything in my life had been going smoothly.
A newlywed home that I was looking into renovating with my own hands, a stable income and reliable clients. Dependable
team members, and the woman I loved.
Like a piece of furniture perfectly leveled from end to end, my life seemed as though it would never waver.
---
A little while later.
While I was changing clothes, Siwoo approached me.
“Hyung-nim, I'm going to stay behind today and practice a little more before I leave.”
“Practice? What kind of practice?”
“Well... the joinery. I still don't quite understand the 'sagimatchum' you showed me last time, so I wanted to try it
with some of the leftover materials.”
Despite having such a pretty face, his eyes were even sparkling with enthusiasm.
What an admirable kid.
I took the workshop key out of my pocket and tossed it to him.
“Don't stay too late. Make sure you lock up properly. And don't forget to pull the shutter all the way down. Seems like
drunk people sometimes come around banging on it.”
“Thank you, hyung-nim! Have a good rest!”
I left the workshop to his farewell.
Mullae-dong was an interesting neighborhood. It was a rough alley filled with the sounds of metal being cut and welding
sparks flying, yet at the same time, it was overflowing with all kinds of restaurants and cafés.
I started the pickup truck I had parked nearby.
Vroom.
The heavy vibration of the engine.
I turned the wheel, left the alley, and got onto the road. Ilsan, my destination, seemed far away, but it wasn't
actually that far.
I even turned on the heavy metal I'd enjoyed listening to all my life. It was the perfect music for the drive home
today.
And so, after driving for who knows how long...
'Ah, right. Damn it...'
The sketchbook.
I'd left the sketchbook containing the drawings I was supposed to show at tomorrow's client meeting on my workbench.
I did have the files on my tablet PC, but I preferred the analog approach. When I explained things while sketching them
out with a pencil on paper, clients seemed to trust me more.
What should I do? Should I come out a little earlier tomorrow and pick it up? No. There was too little time. I also had
plans with Seyeon after the meeting.
'I'll just go get it quickly.'
I turned the car around. As though I had reversed the heavy metal music I'd been listening to all this time, I
eventually returned and pulled the truck over at the side of the road again.
Siwoo was probably completely focused. I wondered if I was going to disturb him.
'Maybe I should buy him some late-night food... Since I'm coming back anyway...'
No.
I decided it would be better just to get the sketchbook quickly, so I hurried my steps and arrived in front of the
workshop again.
Without making a sound, I quietly pushed the door open. A childish urge to surprise him had taken hold of me. I wanted
to see the look on his face when he realized I was there.
Creak.
Thanks to the hinges being well-oiled, the door opened shyly.
Then.
'Uh...?'
Instead of the soft scraping sound of wood being carved that should have been coming from this place, I heard a sound
like a shy little moan.
“Haa, mm... Honey, wait a second...”
“Why? This feels good here.”
“No, my back hurts... I told you, this wood is hard.”
“This is the hinoki that hyung-nim treasures the most. It's expensive.”
Familiar voices.
There was no need or opportunity to think about it for long.
'Fuck...'
I had become the protagonist.
The protagonist of some third-rate drama or movie.
I took another step forward.
The sounds were coming from the resting area I'd set up inside the workshop.
The platform I'd built myself.
I'd sourced the finest cypress wood and spent hundreds of passes with a plane to make it.
I'd stayed up several nights to create a perfectly smooth surface without a single knot.
And on top of it...
Siwoo and Seyeon were tangled together like lovebugs.
Clothes were strewn across the floor. An explicit display of bare skin.
'Whew...'
Anger? Betrayal?
No.
The first emotion I felt was disgust.
'Disgusting... So disgusting.'
My sacred workspace, the wood I'd poured my sweat and passion into, was being dirtied by their bodily fluids.
I clenched my lips tightly and held my breath for a moment.
Then.
“But... Oppa isn't coming, right?”
It was Seyeon's voice.
The same voice that whispered that she loved me every time we spoke on the phone.
Then I heard Siwoo's voice.
“He's not coming today. He's been gone from work for ages. Do you think Ilsan is close by? Don't worry.”
“Pfft. But... you being the one to officiate our wedding... it's a little...”
“Why? Is it weird?”
“No... You're such a tease.”
“So what? It's fun. And you like that kind of thing anyway. You've got a perverted side. What do you call that in sexual
terms again...?”
“Oh, what are you talking about? Yawn... I wish that guy smelled like you too... It's the same smell behind the ears, so
how can it be this different?”
“Dick smell?”
“Ah! Seriously!”
They giggled and laughed.
I took another step toward them.
Then I saw and heard Siwoo burying his nose in the back of Seyeon's neck.
“Didn't you say marriage is about reality? Didn't you say you liked him because he makes good money, is stable, and is
strong?”
“Of course. He makes quite a bit for a tradesman. I'll just think of him as a machine that brings in money. I can have
fun with you.”
“Ke ke. A machine? That's harsh. He's technically the owner, though.”
“Owner, my ass. He's just a construction worker. Every time I see how rough his hands are, I get goosebumps. Your hands
are so pretty.”
Snap.
I felt something break inside my brain.
It wasn't the conventional expression of 'the last thread of reason snapping.'
It was the last thread of 'human treatment' I had been giving them.
I walked in slowly.
There was no longer any reason to hide my footsteps.
Thump.
And then.
Thump.
And then—
Crash.
Only then did the two of them stop moving. Their voices fell silent as well.
Siwoo turned his head.
Naturally, his expression was filled with horror.
“H-Hyung-nim?!”
“G-Gasp! Gi... Gi-jun?!”
Mr. Gi-jun?
Was she combining Siwoo's name with my name, Gi-jun?
If you're going to be ridiculous, at least make it ridiculous enough to match the occasion.
The two of them scrambled apart like cockroaches that had been electrocuted. The sight of them frantically covering
their bodies with their clothes was pathetic.
“T-This is a misunderstanding! I'll explain!”
Siwoo spoke while trembling.
“O-Oppa! No! It's not what you think!”
Seyeon's face had gone deathly pale as she babbled.
Without saying a word, I looked at the place where they had been sitting.
Sweat stains on the white, fine surface of the cypress wood.
And strange, unidentified stains.
Disgust surged up from my stomach, and my mouth opened on its own.
“Cute.”
Siwoo, who was covering himself, trembled. I continued speaking calmly.
“Marriage is about reality, and you have fun with someone else? What a very efficient life plan. Congratulations.”
Screaming at the top of my lungs in anger, grabbing them by the collars, throwing punches?
No. That wasn't my style.
That was just a waste of energy.
You don't waste energy on garbage.
You just dispose of it.
I slowly walked toward the workbench.
“G-Gi-jun, I was wrong. I think I just went crazy for a moment. Huh? Please forgive me just this once. We're supposed to
get married...”
Seyeon sobbed as she tried to grab my arm.
“No.”
I gently brushed her hand away.
“Don't touch me.”
“......!”
“You said the smell of sawdust made you sick.”
She fell silent.
I picked up a can from underneath the workbench.
The can contained oil stain, Ethnic Black.
It was a coating used to color and preserve wood.
And among them, it was the darkest shade of black, one that would never come off once it stained something.
I opened the lid.
The pungent smell of thinner immediately filled the air.
“Hyung-nim, wh-why are you...”
Perhaps sensing an ominous feeling, Siwoo took an uneasy step backward.
I carried the can back toward the platform.
And then.
Without hesitation, I poured it out.
Gurgle, gurgle—
The black liquid poured down like a waterfall.
“Aaaah!”
“Ugh! Hyung-nim!”
The black oil stain covered the platform, splashing upward and coating their naked bodies and the expensive designer
clothes scattered across the floor.
Seyeon's Chanel bag.
The designer-brand jacket Siwoo cherished.
In an instant, everything was covered in black oil.
“Are you crazy?! What the hell are you doing?!”
Seyeon screamed as she tried to wipe the black substance off her stained body. But the more she rubbed, the deeper the
black stain seeped into her skin.
Siwoo shouted with a miserable expression.
“No! Even so... My clothes! Do you know how much these cost?!”
I casually dropped the empty can onto the floor.
Clatter.
As the can rolled across the floor, I took a cigarette from my pocket and put it between my lips.
“Want me to light it?”
Siwoo stared at me in horror and shook his head.
“If you smoke after pouring that stuff... Y-you know that'll be a huge problem.”
“Yeah, I know. That's why I'm asking. Want one?”
“M-Madman...”
“Yeah, you're right. So what'll it be? Want one or not? Ah, if you don't, whatever. I'll just smoke one myself.”
“No! Don't!!!!!! Are you... are you trying to kill us all?!”
Siwoo stood up and glared at me with venom in his eyes. He was tall, having once been a model, but to me he looked
nothing more than an African vervet monkey.
I approached him one step at a time with the cigarette still between my lips.
Siwoo flinched and stepped backward.
“I taught you this, didn't I? What did I tell you to do with defective materials?”
“......”
“Dispose of them. Don't remember?”
“I... I remember.”
I took the cigarette from my mouth and said,
“Don't stink up my workshop with that rotten smell. Get out. Both of you.”
They exchanged glances.
The two men and women stood there, covered in black oil, their faces flushed red.
The moment they stepped outside into the alley, it was obvious they'd become the neighborhood's spectacle.
“I... I'll go.”
Seyeon hurriedly put on her oil-covered clothes and fled.
Siwoo did the same.
They slammed the door shut as they left, as if trying to preserve the last shred of pride they had left despite being
thrown out.
But their retreating figures belonged unmistakably to losers.
And so, the workshop became empty.
All that remained was the overpowering smell of thinner and the blackened, contaminated platform.
“Whew...”
I thought I'd feel relieved.
But perhaps because I was human, I couldn't help feeling hollow somewhere in my chest.
The place I had loved.
The people I had cherished.
Now that all of it had, in an instant, turned into something sticky and unpleasant, like black oil...
I slowly looked around the inside of the workshop, at everything I had created.
'Nothing here can be used anymore.'
No matter how much I sanded it, the oil that had already seeped deep into the wood, along with their traces, couldn't be
removed.
It had to be thrown away.
This space, too.
These memories, too.
“The smell... Fuck...”
It stabbed my nose.
The stench of betrayal they had left behind felt worse than the smell of the oil.
“I guess I need to air this place out.”
I would never come back here again.
At least not until that disgusting smell had completely left my soul.
---
Some time later.
Fukuoka.
Japan.
I had come here to travel after leaving that filthy place behind.
A gloomy sky.
It had been several days since I had simply walked wherever my feet took me without any particular destination.
I hated crowded city centers.
I couldn't stand crowded places either.
I took trains, changed to buses, and aimlessly headed toward the sea.
That was how I ended up in an unfamiliar seaside town called Itoshima.
Pitter-patter.
Raindrops began to fall.
At first there were only one or two drops, but soon they turned into a torrential downpour.
I had no umbrella.
I hadn't come here looking for a place to live.
I'd come here to run away, so naturally I hadn't prepared anything.
I simply walked along the coastal road, letting the rain fall on me.
Cold rainwater ran down from the top of my head.
It actually felt refreshing.
It felt as though the filthy scent they had left in my heart was being washed away.
Splash, splash.
My wet sneakers grew heavier.
Only the sound of the waves and the rain filled the world.
How long had I been walking?
My body temperature began to drop, and a chill ran through me.
'I want to rest now.'
An old wooden house appeared before my eyes.
I approached it, intending to take shelter from the rain beneath its eaves for a moment.
Old wooden pillars.
A blackened cedar exterior.
It was a house bearing the unmistakable marks of time.
Was it occupational conditioning?
'It's been maintained pretty well. The rafters look sturdy too...'
Even at a time like this, I was examining the structure of the house.
Then it happened.
Slide.
The sound of a sliding door opening.
I politely stepped back.
Standing beneath the eaves of someone else's house probably made me look exactly like some suspicious stranger.
“Ah, I'm sorry. It's raining so heavily, so I was just...”
I instinctively spoke in Korean, then realized my mistake and closed my mouth.
A soft orange light spilled through the gap in the door.
Backlit by that glow stood a woman.
She wore a white dress with a loose cardigan over it.
Her long, rain-soaked hair flowed down over her shoulders.
She held a transparent plastic umbrella and stared straight at me.
Large, beautiful eyes.
Clear eyes that looked exactly like this city.
I awkwardly bowed my head and tried to apologize in Japanese.
“Sumima...”
But then.
She held out the umbrella to me and spoke.
“Are you... Korean?”
Her Korean pronunciation was awkward, but unmistakable.
A clear voice that reached me through the sound of the rain.
“Uh...?”
That was the moment something with color entered my heart, which had been stained completely black.