The Sky Opens (1)
When I woke from a restless, uneasy sleep, a familiar woman stood in front of me.
Obviously, it wasn't me. Moon Sangjun's family was not a clan of deranged perverts who laid mirrors across the guest room beds.
"Oh, you're awake?"
"Huh? Sister-in-law?"
Moon Sangjun's wife-to-be. Min Jiyeon.
"Sorry. Did I wake you?"
"Oh, no, not at all. I just got up on my own."
"That's a relief. You've already been through enough."
I pushed the blanket aside and gathered myself up. Ugh — was this comforter not a little too plush? It was so soft it felt alien.
Min Jiyeon took a step back and looked me over, slowly and carefully.
"I heard about it from him. Honestly, I only half believed it…"
Those large brown eyes traveled over every inch of me. It was the look you give a fascinating animal, but it wasn't unpleasant, so I let her have it. Even I had to admit I was a little fascinating.
"It's strange. Your appearance has completely changed, but you can still feel that distinctive atmosphere of yours…"
Min Jiyeon rested a hand against her cheek and tilted her head. She was only three years older than me, but every so often she carried herself like some noblewoman out of the 1990s.
After studying me for a long while, she spoke again.
"But is that the only clothes you have? Aren't they a bit big?"
"Ah — yes. This only happened to me this morning, so…"
"I actually already knew. He asked me to recommend some women's clothes, and when I asked who they were for, he said they were for you."
Min Jiyeon set three shopping bags on the table.
Thud.
They'd looked light enough to carry. The sound they made when she put them down was anything but.
"I figured maybe you'd needed to cross-dress for something at university… but no, he said you'd actually turned into a girl?"
"I'm sorry?"
Wait — and she'd actually believed that? I don't think even I would have bought it.
Believed or not, she upended the bags and poured out a compressed avalanche of clothes.
"Lately my parents and in-laws have been worrying themselves sick. I've been stuck at home bored out of my mind, so this actually came at the perfect time."
Min Jiyeon's eyes sparkled.
"Want to try them on?"
Min Jiyeon treated me like a dress-up doll.
In the span of a few short hours I was stuffed into floaty dresses, skirts, the kind of crop tops Instagram influencers wear, pants so thin a breeze would send them sliding past my hipbones to flash my underwear, and hot pants that rode up into places they had no business going — a total collapse of my masculinity, experienced in record time—
—is the kind of gruesome tragedy that did not, in fact, take place.
Min Jiyeon was a normal adult, equipped with a perfectly ordinary sense of decency.
That said, I was comprehensively ignorant about women's clothing, so Min Jiyeon's crash course in female apparel — conducted under the thin pretext of finding me something that suited me — stretched on for over an hour.
"This is a cup camisole, and this is a bra top. I figured a regular underwire bra would still be uncomfortable for you. You can buy one later once you're used to it."
"And these are safety shorts. I didn't bring any skirts, but you should wear them under wide-leg pants or shorts. They ride up and show more than you'd think."
"Ah. Yes, ma'am."
"Your hair got long all of a sudden, too, so that'll be a hassle. Use the hairband when you eat or wash your face… I picked the plainest underwear I could find. Do you like them?"
"Aigoo, I'm grateful, of course. But can't I just wear boxers?"
"And these are pads. Keep them on hand, just in case. You can look up how to use them online."
"Sister-in-law?"
I stared at the three shopping bags sitting forlornly on the sofa in Moon Sangjun's law office. I hadn't known what to take and what to refuse, so I'd just accepted all of it and hauled it over. I was sorting the slightly wrinkled clothes by type when Moon Sangjun stood up from his desk.
"Delivery's here. I'll grab it."
"Wow. Now that I'm a cripple, I get to live it up like this."
"Shut it."
Moon Sangjun laid the food out on the table. Two extra-large jajangmyeon, sweet-and-sour pork, a side of spicy seafood broth, and fried dumplings — the full spread.
I mixed my noodles and asked him a question.
"Hyung."
"What."
"How do I look in this?"
His jajang-smeared chopsticks clattered across the table. He swept a trembling gaze over my short-sleeved shirt and wide-leg jeans, then asked back with an expression too complicated to name.
"Pretty, sure, but… were you, you know. That way? Like, even before this happened, did you want to be a girl, or—"
"Oh, for fuck's sake. That's bullshit. I meant do I look ordinary. Unremarkable. Like I won't stand out."
"Ah."
Moon Sangjun gave an awkward laugh and picked up the fallen chopsticks.
"More or less? But your face isn't ordinary, so I think you're going to stand out no matter what you wear."
"Maybe I should just walk around in a hoodie…"
"So what. Just enjoy it."
I flipped him off and took a bite of jajangmyeon.
Moon Sangjun's law office was considerably more modest than his house. Specifically, it was about the size of his kitchen. An extension of the image-making that came with being a human rights lawyer, I figured.
As anyone could guess from the sprawling mansion in the hills of Seocho-dong, Moon Sangjun had been born with a diamond spoon in his mouth. So why would someone like him take a shit job like human rights lawyer?
Because his grandfather — the current leader of the opposition party — had told him to start building the narrative in advance. Give it a few years and he'd probably swap the human rights work for a seat in some district assembly.
"I'll start with the thing you asked me for."
Moon Sangjun wiped his mouth with a tissue while I laid waste to the food like a plague of American locusts.
"I pulled a few strings and cooked up an identity you can use for a while. I thought about just continuing your old one, but that would've been way too conspicuous. You're not planning to go public as a dragon right away, right?"
"Probably not."
"On paper, you're more or less a distant relative of mine. There's still some processing left to do, so don't go causing trouble anywhere."
He pulled a brand-new resident registration card from his wallet and tossed it onto the table.
The birth year and birthday were a match. The photo was of me, wearing sunglasses.
"What the hell is this picture. When did you even take this."
"While you were asleep. Why would I go to the trouble of waking you up just to shoot a ID photo."
"And the sunglasses? Is this even allowed?"
"I told them you went visually impaired as a side effect of awakening an ability, so don't worry about it."
He fished a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and handed them over.
"And those eyes of yours. The color already makes them stand out, and then they glow on top of that, so they're really fucking noticeable. The iris shape isn't human either, so contacts would be a pain. Figured it'd be easier if you just wore sunglasses, so that's what I went with."
"Oh. That's so fucking sweet. No wonder women fall for you."
"I took care of the police, so they won't be looking for you anymore… this is a newly activated phone, and this is your wallet now. There's emergency cash in there, plus my secondary card. I don't remember the limit off the top of my head, but it should be around thirty million won. You don't have to pay it back, so use it however you want for a while."
"I'm seriously starting to wonder if I should just start calling you Dad."
Up till now this had been WWE. We were one step from going full UFC.
No — if I was being honest, we were already in the UFC. I don't think even a real father would look after someone this thoroughly. Not that I'd ever had one, so what did I know.
So did that make me Moon Siwol?
"Like hell you will."
I accepted everything Moon Sangjun had bestowed upon me with both hands, very politely.
"Thank you, hyung."
"As long as you know it, you little shit. Eat your jajangmyeon already. Wait, what the fuck. Where did all the dumplings go. This bastard eats so goddamn fast."
"Haha… sorry. It's a habit. You know, given where I come from…"
"You haven't even touched the sweet-and-sour pork, though. What is this. Your last shred of conscience?"
"Only a beast would finish off the tangsuyuk too."
"You're not wrong."
"And now I'm a beast."
"You little sh—"
I plucked the biggest piece of sweet-and-sour pork off the plate and swallowed it whole.
After cleaning up, I leaned back into the sofa, patting my newly rounded stomach, and a comfortably rotten silence settled over the room. I took the resident registration card and the smartphone from my pocket, along with the wallet Moon Sangjun had tossed over like it was nothing, and set them on the table.
"……"
I was staring at them when Moon Sangjun came over and slung an arm around my shoulders.
"What's wrong. Limit not high enough for you?"
"Aigoo, no. Nothing like that. It's just…"
"Just what."
"It's just… a little weird, is all."
I looked down at a thin, white hand I still wasn't used to.
"This morning I was sitting there going I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked, chewing my own fingers off… and for you, that was just something to take care of while I took a nap. It's a weird feeling."
I picked at the blood scab stuck to my thumb.
"The rule of law in this country is remarkably transparent, isn't it?"
"That's called money, dumbass. Also known as power. Also known as influence. If it pisses you off, go into politics yourself."
"Should I?"
Moon Sangjun's eyes went round.
"Are you serious? I won that lawsuit over you getting discharged for the shooting in the military — I'll probably have a National Assembly pin by next year, or the year after at the latest. Want me to slot you in as an aide?"
"I'm kidding. I couldn't do something like that."
"If you're even considering it, say so. Don't come crying later that you can't find a job."
"Get your arm off me. It's heavy as hell."
Moon Sangjun gave an awkward laugh and stretched out on the sofa across from me. I wasn't sure lying down in a full suit was a great look, but that was his problem.
I gathered up the things I'd spread across the table.
"Right — that wasn't even what I meant to say. I have to go visit a friend from the orphanage on Sunday. Army visitation."
"Next week?"
"Yeah."
"Ah… I'm going golfing with my grandfather's people then, so I can't take you. You'd have to go alone?"
"What are you talking about. Why would you take me."
"Oh. Yeah, alright then."
Moon Sangjun let out a long yawn and scratched his stomach. Then he made a small, puzzled sound and rolled onto his side.
"But what the hell is 'visiting an orphanage friend in the army.' Did this country lose its mind while I wasn't looking? Do orphans get drafted these days?"
"It's complicated. He has parents, technically, but they might as well not exist… and if we'd twisted it a certain way he probably could've gotten out of it, but he volunteered so he could make money…"
"Ah."
Moon Sangjun glanced at me sideways.
"Looking like that?"
"That's what I'm saying. Can I even go?"
"Why are you asking me. If you want to go, go."
"Don't I have to hide what happened to me?"
"It's not like you're going to hide it for the rest of your life. As long as you don't get snagged by a reporter and end up as breaking news before we can get ahead of it, it doesn't matter."
He snorted a laugh and added,
"Just make sure you wear a hat and the sunglasses. If you wander around with that face and end up in some SNS photo, there's nothing I can do for you."
"I know, I know. I'll handle it."
"And don't go putting on a pitiful show hobbling onto a bus on crutches. Take a taxi like a civilized person. That's why I gave you the card."
"Yes, sir."
"Now get out of here and go home. I have work to do."
Moon Sangjun stood, brushing off his pants.
"I probably won't be able to come home for about a week, so take care of that ankle. I'll see you at the house later."
"Hey, can I just stay at your office? It's not that I don't like your place, it's just… it's not really my home…"
"Stop talking nonsense and go. I already called a car."
"Yessir."
I don't know what other orphanages are like.
But the Nanum Mideok Orphanage, where I grew up, was not a place blessed with location, facilities, or people. Don't ask me what it was blessed with. There wasn't anything.
Anyway, Nanum Mideok was less an orphanage than a den of criminals. The director, who'd been caught picking pockets, had gone back to his office instead of a cell. The teachers, who were closer to prison wardens than educators, reached for a mop more often than a pen. Even the quality of the kids was nothing to write home about — in more than one sense of the word.
To borrow a phrase from Korea's great shaman, the author Kim X-mo: a wilderness of thugs and whores.
That was Nanum Mideok.
In any case, the ecology of this orphanage — which failed to live up to its name in every possible way — could be summed up in a single phrase: like calls to like. Because the unique culture this place had spawned had, at some point, come to resemble the hoods of a far-off America.
Most of the kids idolized Korean young gangsters — school thugs, if you wanted the local term. The premier path to success at the orphanage was to hone your fists and your nerve until you earned a place in a school gang, and from there, to graduate into running errands for the neighborhood mob.
And the counter-revolutionaries who opposed this system received the solemn judgment of the high school thugs. (It hurt.)
K-pop. K-drama. And now: K-Hood.
And that was like calling to like. The insight of the sages, unbound by national borders.
Even so, there existed a counter-revolutionary who refused to bow to the school gangs' one-party dictatorship.
That was me.
School thugs pick on the model students who get good grades? They only do that to the middling ones. Almost nobody laid a hand on me — I was so good I was running illegal private tutoring gigs in high school, raising the orphanage's standing.
(Which is to say: a few people did.)
But the teachers' protection, plus the occasional tribute money I kicked up, wasn't quite enough to fully hold off the assaults of those empty-headed orphanage thugs — digging through my wallet behind my back and lifting the cash; hiding my tutoring workbooks and refusing to give them back until I paid; going out of their way to show up at my school and spread the word that I was an orphan — and the one who had my back, back then, was the nice school thug: Kim Juwon.
Truth be told, he'd only sort of stumbled into being a thug by accident. He was a well-built simpleton, so calling him a gang member felt like a stretch. Anyway. If a nice school thug existed in this world, it was Kim Juwon.
These days, he was also Corporal Kim Juwon, assistant instructor at a recruit training center.
Which was also why, even with my body in this state, I'd gotten on a bus at Dong Seoul Terminal.
I mean, honestly. Isn't taxi fare just too damn expensive?