Slopes of Deception
It felt awkward to pay up after such a confident demand, but I handed over the money anyway. When I gave them dollars, they claimed there was an exchange fee and asked for a few more. It didn’t seem worth arguing all the way out here, so I paid. It felt like I was being taken for a ride, but the ski slopes visible through the window offered some consolation. They really were impressive.
“Shall we go?”
We loaded the gear into the pickup truck and headed up to the ski resort. On the way, I pulled out my phone and searched whether this was normal. Apparently it was. They said you had to rent equipment and buy lift tickets too.
“We’re not trying to scam you.”
This girl had sharp eyes. Everyone I met in Europe seemed to have quick wits. I’d have to be careful.
“Yeah, I figured as much.”
“By the way, have you done any sports before?”
Of course—I’d been in Cancun. “No. Just an ordinary university student.”
“Alright, I’ll explain the theory first while we’re driving. It’ll pass the time.”
She focused on the principles. How to put on ski boots, how to stand and balance, where to shift your weight. She especially emphasized never leaning backward. If you fell backward, you could seriously injure your head. She also warned that leaning back would actually make you go faster. It felt refreshing to receive such a kind lesson after so long. Maybe it was because I’d always learned by getting beaten. If this were Cancun, they probably would’ve let me get hurt once before explaining what not to do. Or maybe it wasn’t that long ago after all—when I learned English and French in Europe, no one hit me, so perhaps it was different.
“You probably don’t get it yet, but you’ll understand once you try.”
Right, right. Learning with your body was always best.
We bought tickets at the booth and entered the slope. I thought we’d head straight for the lift, but she led me to a flat area instead.
“We’re going to learn how to fall first.”
Of course. You had to crawl before you could walk. She said falling backward or forward could cause serious injury, so you absolutely had to fall sideways. She also taught me how to get back up after falling, how to move forward, how to change direction, and the basic A-stance for slowing down on the slope. She said we’d practice the A-stance and the parallel stance today, and depending on my progress, we might try turning while going down.
She seemed pleased with my attitude and taught enthusiastically. After about an hour of basic instruction, we got on the lift. From up there, I could see the distant mountain range. There was some fog today, but it gave the scene its own charm. How far up were we going?
“How much farther? It feels like we’ve already climbed quite a bit.”
“We’re here.”
One of the three great lies, wasn’t it? The first was a guy saying he’d just hold hands and sleep. The second was a delivery driver saying they’d left when you asked when it would arrive. The third was telling someone they’d arrived at the top when they asked how much longer. Sure enough, it was a lie. We kept going. At least the instructor kindly explained Swiss ski resorts along the way, so it wasn’t boring.
“In Switzerland, the slopes aren’t always clearly marked. Sometimes the whole mountain is natural snow, so wherever you ski down becomes the ski resort.”
What did that mean?
“It means there are no restrictions.”
“They say the Swiss slopes are over two hundred kilometers long. Ski as much as you want.”
“We’re here.”
The lift turnaround point came into view ahead.
“Don’t be nervous. When the safety attendant raises their hand, just go forward in parallel stance.”
We were doing this for real already? There was a European man wearing goggles in front of us.
“Ready~ go go.”
“Have a nice day~”
He must’ve thought I was Korean. He spoke to me in English. Once we safely cleared the lift area, a vast slope opened up before us. The incline wasn’t steep, and the clubhouse was visible far below.
“Mr. Eunsu, let me explain again. First, get into the A-stance.”
I did as she said.
“Yes, very good.”
“Let’s go down slowly.”
“Brake~”
“A-stance again.”
We repeated stopping and moving, stopping and moving five times before the instructor’s expression said we could move on. I knew that look well. The Trio brothers used to make that face when they had no reason to hit me.
“You’re doing well. Let’s pick up some speed.”
“If you ease up a little from the A-stance, your skis will naturally shift into parallel stance. That’ll give you speed. If it feels too fast, switch back to A-stance and you’ll slow down.”
“Try it.”
I went down in A-stance as I’d been taught, then eased up slightly. My speed shot up immediately. She was shouting “A-stance! A-stance!” from behind, but no matter how hard I tried to form it, I kept accelerating.
“Fall sideways!”
For the first time, I tumbled three full rotations down the slope. My poles flew off, and both skis came loose. During the lesson, she’d told me never to grip the poles tightly when falling because you could get hurt. By the time we came down the slope that day, the sun was setting.
“Switzerland doesn’t do night skiing like Korea does.”
“Will you be taking lessons tomorrow too?”
“Yeah, it’s fun. Let’s start in the morning.”
“Got it. I’ll pick you up~”
After wiring the lesson fee for the next day, I returned to the lodging, showered, and lay down—only to have to cancel the next day’s lesson. My whole body was aching with muscle pain and I couldn’t get up. I rested at the hotel all day, and on the third day I asked to make up the lesson I’d missed. Why did she look disappointed when she came to pick me up? Had she failed to catch another sucker? That was the expression she wore.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. A day of rest did wonders.”
“Alright, let’s go.”
That day I progressed enough to ski down the slope in S-turns. It was manageable. While watching me descend, the instructor suggested I try snowboarding the next day. She said if I wanted to get better at skiing, I’d need to invest a lot more time. I should learn boarding too.
“Ski in the morning and board in the afternoon. You can handle a bit more skiing.”
“I saw a video yesterday—skiing with edge turns looked really cool.”
She seemed to be smirking a little, but I was the customer, so whatever. The next evening, I wasn’t even thinking about boarding—I was just groaning in pain. Speed made mistakes hurt a lot more. When she picked me up the next morning, she started nagging the moment she saw me.
“I told you so.”
After four days she was speaking more casually. When I asked how old she was, she said a lady’s age was a secret and wouldn’t tell me.
“You thought you could do it, didn’t you?”
“Still, you did well by the end, right?”
“You’re impressive. You learn fast.”
“Let’s head straight there today. I brought the gear.”
That morning was just like the first day of skiing—we practiced falling and getting up. Unlike skiing, boarding didn’t involve walking, so we skipped that. I spent time getting used to falling and standing repeatedly. The theory lesson that followed was similar in terms of weight shifting, but braking and speeding up were different from skiing. We went up the beginner slope again and I performed my best imitation of a falling leaf, zigzagging left and right. After finishing the morning session, I checked my phone during a short break and saw a message. I looked around warily because of what had happened with Valentin last time, and Eunkyung came over with a cup of coffee.
“Thanks. I’m going to the restroom real quick.”
“Sure~”
I was alive, though. When I asked for the report, he said it stated I’d been killed during a war between organizations. I needed to finish the lesson first, so I told Eunkyung that something urgent had come up from Korea and asked if we could continue tomorrow morning. She agreed, though she looked worried and hoped it wasn’t anything serious. Sorry. It was pretty serious. Someone had supposedly killed me.
When I got back to the hotel, another message was waiting. After reading the report, all I could do was swear. Fuck. I knew who had died in my place. Mr. Gonzales. The report described a localized conflict between Mexican cartels in which key figures from both the supply and enforcement sides had been killed. It also noted that the deceased supply-side executive had been identified as an Interpol Red Notice target. Why did my seniors always have such rotten luck? Or maybe it was the seniors around me who were unlucky. Flashmob and now Mr. Gonzales. Did everyone who nagged me end up dying? What was even more frustrating was that they’d taken the fall for me and exited the stage. The reasoning was disturbingly… logical. Mr. Gonzales had frequently sent product to Asia while dealing with me, received money, and even imported through Ocean World. There were plenty of connections. The report also warned Mexican authorities that the Camilio Cartel might seek revenge for the loss of a senior member. I developed a sudden aversion to people and spent the entire day holed up in a corner of the hotel, staring at the wall.