Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 016
Chapter Title: Half-Side Syndrome (1)
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Shwaaa—
The hot water blasted forcefully from the showerhead, pounding my shoulders and back without mercy. The faint massage seemed to loosen my aching muscles a bit.
“Hoo...”
Closing my eyes and deeply inhaling the steamy air, my lungs filled with the damp but familiar scent of body wash instead of the metallic tang of blood and sweat.
I silently stared down for a long while as the dark red scabs softened in the water and peeled away like shed skin, swirling into the drain and vanishing.
The sound of bone and flesh being sliced away, the nauseating iron stench that had filled the building, the blood spray from the Blood Ghosts that had splattered my body—it all felt like it was washing away with the scabs.
Feeling my body much lighter, I roughly wiped off the water with a worn-out towel and stepped out.
Once out of the shower, my relaxed body finally sent the signal.
Grrrrowl—
Hunger hit me like mad. My stomach felt like it was glued to my back. Drawn by it, I opened the rickety old fridge door.
“Ha, nothing to eat...”
A sigh escaped me naturally.
It was empty. Empty was the only word for it.
A shriveled green onion piece past its expiration date who-knows-when, an unidentified side dish container, and a few forgotten kimchi bits shoved in the corner. This wasn't a fridge—it was a grave for food scraps.
Hoping against hope, I rummaged through the cupboards and found a couple packs of ramen shoved in the back, three vaguely remembered instant rice packs, and a half-finished two-liter bottle of mineral water.
Dirt-poor bachelor fridges are all like this, but this was too much. Sure, I'd never once been well-off since leaving the orphanage, but today my situation felt especially pathetic.
Normally, I'd just mix some rice into ramen without a second thought, but not today.
After rolling around like a dog staking my life on the line, the reward being a bowl of instant ramen? That wasn't respectful to my hard work.
I'd suffered enough today.
So just this once, it was fine to splurge on myself.
‘...No way.’
I grabbed my wallet and card without hesitation and headed out. I passed the dim, musty hallway and descended the creaky stairs.
My destination was clear: the biggest, flashiest department store food hall in the neighborhood.
The automatic doors at the underground entrance slid open, enveloping me in cool, comfortable air worlds apart from the muggy outside. It felt refreshing down to my lungs.
A subtle high-end perfume scent mixed with the aroma of freshly baked bread and ripe fruit welcomed me. It was leagues beyond my dingy studio.
Without a moment's hesitation, I headed straight for the butcher counter.
“Whoa...”
An exclamation slipped out unbidden. The sight before me was pure art.
Under dazzling lights, crimson meat bloomed with delicate snowflake-like marbling.
But seeing the number of zeros on the price tag turned my awe into a hollow chuckle.
‘Are you insane?’
This one hunk of meat could cover my weekly—no, maybe two weeks'—food budget.
Normally, I'd quietly turn away at that price, but not today. Today, I had every right to splurge.
I pondered long and hard.
Which cut? Since I was splurging, I had to pick the priciest, tastiest one to avoid regrets.
The pinnacle of tenderness, tenderloin? Or sirloin with its chew and nutty savor? Maybe well-balanced, deeply flavorful ribeye?
Screw it.
Just buy them all.
I steeled myself and told the clerk.
“The best ribeye, tenderloin, and sirloin—generous portions of each.”
I tossed in a mini grill for barbecue, quality charcoal, and a bottle of distilled soju that put diluted stuff to shame without a second thought.
My fingertips trembled a bit handing over the card at checkout, but this wasn't extravagance—it was an investment in my mental health and quality of life. A perfectly reasonable one.
Hands full of heavy shopping bags, I headed to the rooftop of my building. The rusty iron door creaked open, letting in a rush of cool evening air.
I set up on the platform, assembled the grill, and carefully layered in the charcoal. Then I lit it with the torch.
Whoosh—
Red flames roared up fiercely, devouring the black coals. Once the coals glowed nicely with a layer of white ash, I laid the meat on top. I didn't forget the green onions and mushrooms I'd bought, placing them around the edges.
Sizzle—
The sound of fat dripping onto the coals whetted my appetite. The thick, savory smoke teased my nose, unleashing unbearable hunger.
Fatty cuts get tough if eaten last. So first up: the extravagantly marbled flower cut.
The moment the surface turned an appetizing deep brown bordering on char, I snatched it with tongs.
I debated dipping sauce for the first bite but settled on the classic of classics—salt—to let the meat's true flavor shine.
I lightly dipped it in Himalayan pink salt and popped it in my mouth.
“Whoa... this is...”
The instant I chewed, juices exploded like fireworks. It was so tender I wondered if this was really meat. A subtle charcoal aroma enveloped my nose, while the rich savor dominated my tongue.
No wonder people rave about beef.
All the beef I'd ever had was the tough braised bits in orphanage seaweed soup. This was basically my first proper grill.
‘The beef I ate before wasn't beef at all.’
As my mouth coated with glorious fat, I poured a full shot of chilled distilled soju and downed it in one go.
“Kaaaa...”
The crisp, clean alcohol washed away every trace of grease.
Definitely a league above diluted soju reeking of booze. High proof, yet smooth going down, with a pleasant grain aftertaste lingering.
Next, I sprinkled salt on a charred green onion and bit in. Sweet juice burst with the hot steam. Even the store-bought ones were insanely good.
Beef slice, soju shot, grilled onion. The dream trio kept coming nonstop.
Lost in mindless eating and drinking, my belly soon swelled comfortably full. Only then did I notice the surroundings.
Beyond the skyline, a blood-red sunset dyed the sky. The city's lights flickered on one by one, turning the nightscape into a priceless side dish all its own.
A solo barbecue party while everyone else clocked out.
‘This is happiness.’
For this, I could endure today's ordeal a hundred times over.
I cleaned everything up, returned to my studio, and flopped onto the bed. Fullness and a pleasant buzz brought on the fatigue.
Maybe because I've got a strong heart, no nightmares—just plunged into deep sleep.
The next morning, a blaring alarm tore me from sleep.
Work again today.
Annoying, but no choice. Thinking of the student loan and next month's card bill, I dragged my heavy body up.
Brushed my teeth and headed to the closet. Yesterday's bloodied shirt I'd hand-washed the stains from and tossed in the machine; the suit coat was going to the cleaners for dry-cleaning. Instead, I pulled on a spare suit.
Finally, I grabbed the Four Tiger Sword.
Disguised in a long paint tube for cover, slung over my shoulder. Suit with a paint tube—bizarre combo no matter who saw it, but way better than carrying it openly and getting reported.
Out the door to Sinnon Station.
Rush hour Line 2 was hell as always.
Line 2 to Gangnam Station, transfer to Shinbundang Line for Cheonggyesan Entrance Station near National Intelligence Service.
But at the Gangnam transfer, something felt off.
College kids heading to meetups, rushing salarymen, tourists dragging huge suitcases. Pushing through the crowd toward the Shinbundang gate, a sense of wrongness hit me.
‘What is it?’
Over half the passersby had one eye shut or wore black eyepatches.
At first, I thought fashion trend. Trends change fast. Or idol fandom event. Or maybe a contagious eye infection going around.
I brushed it off and boarded. Probably just fatigue making me edgy.
But the weird feeling didn't end there.
People kept staring at me intently. Overt, persistent gazes—emotionless, like observing an object. Inorganic.
From behind, the side, all directions—my nerves stood on end. Turn toward a gaze, and they'd all snap away in unison, pretending to check phones.
‘...An anomaly?’
The thought flashed through my mind.
Unspecific masses acting abnormal. Per Anomalous Phenomena 101, classic precursor to a group-type anomaly.
But no jumping to conclusions. Could be yesterday's binge drinking and eating, ongoing tension making me oversensitive. Or just my imagination.
I shook my head, trying to shake off the unease.
‘Ignore it. Nothing serious.’
Self-soothing, I closed my eyes briefly.
The train soon pulled into Yangjae Station.
[This station is Yangjae. Yangjae Station. Doors opening on the right.]
Familiar announcement, doors opened—people ebbed out, flowed in.
I cracked my eyes amid the noise.
But something was wrong.
Every single person on the train—newcomers included—had one eye closed. Left or right didn't matter; all stood or sat with just one eye open.
I knew it in that instant.
My earlier feeling wasn't a mistake. This was a blatant anomaly.
The moment I realized it, the one-eyed people all turned their heads and stared right through me.
Dozens of single eyes fixed on me. They smiled eerily identical smiles and opened their mouths in unison.
“How did you know? How did you know? How did you know?”