A Big, Bear-Like Man
A big, bear-like man.
Discharge day.
Seo-yeon sat in the hospital lobby.
The discharge paperwork was done. The police interviews were done. All that was left was to walk out.
Walk out… and go back.
That single word snagged her ankle and held her there.
A place to go back to. The place she had always been. The place she didn't want to remember — and that her body still did.
She looked down at her own hands.
The calluses on her knuckles. The joints worn flat.
No matter how badly her head wanted to forget, these hands remembered everything.
…Do I have to go back?
If she went back, it would just start all over again. Nothing would change.
That was when a car pulled up in front of the hospital's main entrance.
A black sedan with tinted windows. It didn't belong among the ordinary cars in the hospital lot. Quiet. Large. Expensive-looking.
A man in a suit and sunglasses stepped out of the driver's seat. He swept the lobby once with a glance, found Seo-yeon, and walked over.
"Ms. Seo-yeon. I've come to pick you up."
Polite tone. But something else was sitting underneath the politeness. In their world, you didn't speak that carefully to a superior. You spoke that carefully to merchandise.
"The boss is waiting. Shall we?"
The boss.
At that word, Seo-yeon's hand clenched into a fist. Her callused fingers went white.
"…Just a second."
"Pardon?"
"There's somewhere I need to go first. I'll stop by there, then come."
His eyebrows lifted behind the sunglasses.
"The boss is wait—"
"It'll only take a minute."
Seo-yeon's voice had changed. It wasn't bright. It wasn't the girl she had shown the big bear guy in the hospital. Cold, hard, and practiced.
This was the real Seo-yeon.
The man hesitated a beat, then nodded.
"…Understood. Where to?"
Seo-yeon sat on the lobby chair and thought it through.
Originally, she had meant to just get in the car and go back. Back to where she had always been. Back to the work she had always done.
—Back to the world where nicknames came before names.
But.
What rose up in her mind was that huge person. Shoulders that stuck out past the edges of a hospital bed. Hands the size of manhole covers. Fists like artillery shells. And eyes as gentle as a zoo bear's.
And that conversation from that day.
"But you don't even have a nickname yet, do you?"
"…No."
"Then let's pick one together later. A name, a nickname, whatever. I'm pretty good at that kind of thing."
Those had been her own words. Tossed out like a light joke. The kind of thing you could let slide past and forget.
But.
…It's a promise, isn't it.
Seo-yeon huffed a small laugh.
It was the kind of connection you could walk away from. They had only shared a few days in a hospital. One canned coffee and a couple of side dishes — that was all.
But she had fallen asleep next to him. Dropping her guard enough to sleep was something she hadn't even managed in the place she came from.
"…Take me to the Victim Shelter. The one on the outskirts of Seoul."
"A shelter? Why would you…"
"There's a fri… end…? Someone I made at the hospital. I just want to see them once."
The man looked like he didn't understand, but he didn't push. Seo-yeon climbed into the back seat of the black sedan.
Leather seats, air conditioning, the quiet hum of the engine. It smelled nothing like hospital food and a cheap old phone.
The city slid past the window.
…I'll just give him a name and go.
Even Seo-yeon knew that was an excuse.
That morning, like every morning, I was watching TV in the shelter lobby.
They were still looking for me.
…I'm right here.
A staff member came over.
"Excuse me — you have a visitor."
"…A visitor?"
A visitor. There shouldn't have been anyone who would come looking for me.
The detective's investigation was already finished. The doctor had cleared me for discharge. Rachel had left nothing but a business card. No family. No friends. No one who even knew me at all.
Who in this world would come looking for me?
I stepped out into the visitation room.
And standing there was—
"Hey."
Kang Seo-yeon.
"…Seo-yeon?"
She wasn't in a hospital gown anymore. Street clothes — a black hoodie and jeans. She still looked a little thin, but there was more life in her eyes now.
"Still no name?"
"…Not yet."
"You really are a weird guy."
"…How did you even get here?"
"Asked the doctor for the address."
Seo-yeon looked around.
"It's small. You live here?"
"…Yeah."
"You eat yet?"
"…Yeah."
"Liar. Those are not the eyes of a guy who ate."
"…"
She was right. I had no appetite. As a bear, I could have eaten anything, but humans had something called taste — and right now, mine was at rock bottom.
"Come on. There's a convenience store outside."
"…I don't have any money."
"I'll pay. You still owe me five hundred won."
Seo-yeon started walking first.
I stared blankly at her back.
…Why did she come?
She must have had somewhere to go after discharge. She had memories. A place to return to.
And yet she had come all the way here to find me.
"You coming or what?"
Seo-yeon looked back. The moment I stood up, she tipped her head up at me. Up, and further up, and kept looking up for a long moment before muttering,
"…You are seriously huge."
"I'm just naturally like this."
"You look like a bear. That bear from the news — the one that vanished. The Monster Bear. You look just like it."
"…"
It was an accurate comparison.
Not just similar. I was the real thing.
The convenience store.
Seo-yeon picked up one cup of instant noodles and one triangle kimbap. The big guy trailing behind her picked up the exact same things — one cup of noodles, one triangle kimbap.
…With a build like that, one triangle kimbap?
Without a word, Seo-yeon grabbed two more and stacked them onto his pile.
"…These too?"
"Yeah. That one's one bite for you."
He started to say something, then shut his mouth. No real argument there. It was true.
At the register, Seo-yeon paid for everything. He looked a little guilty about it, but she waved him off.
"You still owe me five hundred won."
They went outside and sat side by side on the bench in front of the store.
Sitting next to each other made the size difference brutal. He took up two-thirds of the bench. Seo-yeon perched on the remaining third.
…Feels like a cat sitting next to a bear.
He tore open a triangle kimbap. Half of it vanished in one bite. The whole thing was gone in two. Same with the second. Same with the third.
The cup noodles were empty before Seo-yeon had even peeled back her own lid.
…Good thing I added three more.
Seo-yeon poured water into her noodles and glanced at his hands.
Whoa.
The hand holding the empty kimbap wrapper was the size of a manhole cover. The plastic looked like a postage stamp in it.
She had felt it the first time she saw him in the hospital, too — those weren't human hands. They looked like the forepaws of a beast.
Seo-yeon had lived a long time in that world. She had seen a lot of fists.
Fast fists. Heavy fists. Technical fists.
She had seen them all.
But those were different.
If fists that big hit a person… technique wouldn't even matter. One clean connection and you were paste.
…With fists like that.
The thoughts started turning.
That frame. Those fists. Those forearms.
A man who claimed he had never fought, and somehow still knew double-legs, sprawls, underhooks. No identity. No money. Nowhere to go.
Seo-yeon was the same. She had an identity, sure — but going back meant going back there.
The world where nicknames came before names. She would have to return to it.
…If she had to go back anyway.
What if I brought him with me…
Her head started calculating, cold and clear.
With a physique like that, being a complete rookie didn't matter. Technique could be bolted on later. That kind of physicality couldn't be taught.
But.
Seo-yeon took a sip of noodle broth and looked at his face.
Gentle eyes. Eyes scanning around for a trash can while he crumpled the empty wrappers. No aggression in them. Manhole-cover fists, and eyes as soft as a zoo bear's.
…Is it okay to take this guy there?
She hesitated for a second. But reality was reality. What he needed right now wasn't pretty words — it was money.
A place where you could earn without an identity. Seo-yeon knew one.
"What are you going to do here?"
He tilted his head.
"…What do you mean, do."
"You just gonna stay at the shelter?"
"…Nowhere else to go."
"…"
Seo-yeon set her cup noodles down.
"There is a place where you can make money without papers."
His eyes shifted, just a fraction.
"…What kind of place?"
Seo-yeon glanced at his fist — that artillery-shell fist still holding an empty kimbap wrapper.
"A place where you make money with your fists."
"…"
"With your fists, you'd be fine."
Seo-yeon grinned. Not the bright smile she had shown him in the hospital. This was the real Seo-yeon — a smile with an edge on it.
"Wanna come with me?"
She held out her hand.
.
.
.
.
.
A small hand.
Not even half the size of my fist. The same hand that had offered me a canned coffee.
And now that hand was holding out a path.
I looked at it.
Small, thin, warm-looking — a human hand.
Mine was shaped like a human's, but at its core it was still a bear's forepaw.
Was it all right to take this hand? Would it break?
"…What's taking you so long? I'm just asking to shake on it."
I carefully reached out and took Seo-yeon's hand.
Whew. It didn't break.
That small hand squeezed hard inside mine. Stronger than it looked.
There were calluses on it.
"Then let's go tomorrow. Just to look around for now."
Seo-yeon let go and stood up.
"Oh — wait."
She looked at me again.
"Kinda weird hanging around with a guy who doesn't even have a name. Want me to give you one? I promised I would, remember?"
"…You?"
"You don't want it…? Fine, forget it then…"
"No."
I didn't mind.
Someone giving me a name. When I was a bear, I couldn't have imagined it.
"…I'd like that."
Seo-yeon propped her chin in her hand and looked me over.
Top to bottom. Bottom to top.
"First off — you're big."
"…"
"You're goddamn huge."
"…"
"You look like a bear."
"…"
Seo-yeon snorted a laugh.
"Daewong."
"…Daewong?"
"Yeah. Daewong. Dae for big, woong for bear. Big and bear-like, so — Daewong."
"…Daewong?"
My heart kicked once.
This little kid had just stuck the character for bear into my name. She had no idea how exactly right it was.
"What about a last name? You don't have one of those either?"
"…No."
"Then Han. Han Daewong. Han like Korea. Sounds pretty good."
Seo-yeon nodded, satisfied with herself.
"Han Daewong. A big, bear-like man. Perfect."
…Han Daewong.
Han Daewong.
I rolled it around in my mouth.
Han of Korea. Dae for big. Woong for bear.
—Han Daewong.
Not a bad name.
A big, bear-like man.
That was my nature, after all.
"You like it?"
"…Yeah."
"Whoa, you're smiling. Never seen that face before."
Was I smiling?
Without even noticing.
"Then from now on, your name is Han Daewong. Got it?"
Seo-yeon walked off.
A small back. Unshaking steps. The back of the person who had given me a name.
I looked down at the empty kimbap wrappers.
Han Daewong, huh…
When I was a bear, I hadn't needed a name. But to live as a person, you needed one.
I looked up at the sky.
Clear.
The same sky I used to look up at from the mountains when I was a bear.
But it was different now.
Back then, I had looked up as a nameless beast. Now I was looking up as a person.
Han Daewong.
Under the name of a big, bear-like man.