Familiar Scars
By the time the staff had finished mopping the floor, Jae-young stepped out of the bathroom. Beneath his hastily rolled sleeves, his skin glowed an angry red. The mere sight of it stung the eyes and made one’s brow furrow in sympathy.
“Feeling any better?”
“I’m fine. I kept it under cold water so long I was worried I might end up with frostbite instead.”
He gave an awkward laugh and kept stroking the inflamed arm, clearly embarrassed. To be joking in a moment like this—he really was something else. Yeo-won stared at his left arm for a long moment, then sighed and turned away.
“Let’s get out of here. I’ve already paid for the broken dishes.”
“If you insist.”
The moment they left the café, Yeo-won held out the business card she’d been carrying. Jae-young glanced between the card and her face, then broke into a wide grin.
“Is this your card, sunbae?”
“No. It belongs to the woman from earlier. She said to contact her if there are dry-cleaning or hospital bills.”
“Ah.”
He made no effort to hide his disappointment as he reluctantly accepted the card. Yeo-won continued, unruffled.
“Thank you for stepping in. You’re still on an outside assignment, aren’t you? You should probably get that looked at. Maybe call the office first?”
“Come on, no need to go to the hospital. This will heal with a little ointment.”
He added that he was perfectly all right and made a show of rotating his arm.
The burn is on the skin—why on earth is he rotating the joint?
The urge to point it out was almost overwhelming, but Yeo-won held her tongue. She had felt a pang of guilt that he’d been hurt while shielding her, which was why she had offered to take him to the hospital. Since he refused, there was little she could do. Besides, after today they would likely never see each other again; she had no desire to dwell on what might come later.
“Even if not right now, promise you’ll go later. At the very least, buy some burn cream and apply it.”
“Will you buy it for me, sunbae?”
At his mischievous smile, Yeo-won’s expression hardened. She pulled out her wallet, took out several ten-thousand-won bills, and pressed them into his hand. Jae-young looked visibly flustered.
“Use this. And pick up a new shirt on the way and change.”
“No, I didn’t mean— It was only a joke.”
“Yoo Jae-young.”
At the icy tone, his shoulders twitched. Beneath the brim of her hat, Yeo-won’s face had gone cold.
“Were we close enough to be joking with each other?”
The unmistakable line she drew wiped the smile from his face.
His lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but Yeo-won’s resolute expression made him close his mouth and lower his head.
“I’m sorry…”
His shoulders slumped at once. Seeing him so dejected made her feel like the villain, guilt twisting in her chest.
And then she became aware of the stares from passersby. Of course they were staring—a tall, broad-shouldered man standing in the middle of the street with his head hanging like a scolded dog.
“Take it. If I don’t give you at least this, my conscience will weigh on me.”
When she offered the money again, Jae-young shook his head slowly.
“It’s really all right. I’m the one who should apologize for troubling you. I was just… genuinely happy to see you. Please don’t worry about the burn. I’m used to it.”
Used to it? Who could possibly be used to burns? Yeo-won looked at him, puzzled. He scratched the back of his head and continued.
“Things like this happen to me all the time.”
He gave a bitter smile and shrugged.
All the time. The moment she wondered what he could possibly mean, a black mist began to seep from behind him, curling upward like smoke. Yeo-won’s eyes widened.
What… is that?
The dark haze wriggled like a swarm of insects, then slowly coiled around his left arm like a snake, settling exactly where the burn had blistered his skin.
“…What do you mean, all the time?”
Jae-young’s eyes rounded in surprise at the question. Yeo-won immediately regretted speaking.
“Never mind. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s nothing special. I’ve just been unlucky since I was a kid. More accidents than most people, always getting hurt.”
He wrinkled the bridge of his nose and rubbed the tip of it.
“My mother said it was because a ghost had possessed me. She’s always been superstitious about that sort of thing.”
Yeo-won flinched. The black mist enveloping his arm gradually took the shape of a hand. Long, grotesque fingers scraped down his skin with a silent, scratching motion.
“……”
“So I’m somewhat used to it. But you’re not, are you, sunbae? As for me, I already have plenty of scars. A burn like this is nothing. Ah! That’s enough of that! Sorry, this kind of talk must be unpleasant, right?”
Noticing Yeo-won’s darkening expression, Jae-young waved both arms and hurriedly ended the story. He smiled again. Yeo-won stared at that smile—bright, casual, as though none of it mattered—and bit her lip hard.
That smiling face grated on her. Why did he keep smiling? There was nothing funny about any of it.
“Why do you keep saying you’re fine?”
“Sorry?”
“How can anyone get used to being hurt? You’re not used to it. You’re just… enduring it. That’s all.”
“Uh…”
The words had slipped out before she could stop them. Yeo-won herself was the most startled. But what was said could not be unsaid.
Instead of apologizing or explaining, she clenched her fist and turned away.
The way he kept repeating that everything was fine felt suffocating. It irritated her.
There were things no amount of time could make familiar. Yeo-won had seen ghosts for years, yet she had never grown accustomed to them. Not even once.
How could anyone grow used to the exhaustion of never lowering their guard for a single moment, of crawling into bed every night trembling with fear?
Jae-young stood frozen, dazed. Leaving him like that, Yeo-won turned on her heel.
“If I overstepped, I’m sorry. I’ll be going now. Take care of that burn.”
Her emotions had flared in a way that was unlike her. She didn’t understand why she was so angry. Or perhaps she did and simply refused to acknowledge it. She was angry because he had been honest with her, and she could not be honest in return.
That from the first time they met, a ghost had been clinging to his back, and even now something was latched onto his arm. That he should find a shaman, do a ritual—anything.
The words rose in her throat but never left her lips.
I can’t help him anyway.
How could she say such things to someone who dismissed it all as superstition? And even if she did, what would change? Wouldn’t it only add needless fear to someone already living with acceptance?
To raise a problem without offering any real solution was its own form of violence.
Besides, he has nothing to do with me.
Swallowing the tight knot of frustration, Yeo-won quickened her pace.
She wanted to get home. She told herself that after a good sleep, this uneasy feeling would vanish.
Jae-young watched her retreating figure until it grew small in the distance, then pulled his phone from his pocket.
He aimed the camera in the direction she had gone and pressed the shutter.
Click.
Yeo-won’s back was captured inside his phone. The corner of his mouth twitched as he stared at the screen.
“Still beautiful.”
He pressed a light kiss to the phone, then carefully turned the screen off. Only after her figure had completely disappeared did he start to leave—until a voice called from behind.
“Excuse me!”
When Jae-young stopped and turned, it was the woman who had spilled the coffee earlier. He had assumed she’d left, but apparently she had been waiting.
“Um… is your arm all right now?”
“Yes.”
His polite, public smile made her relax. She took a step closer.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t apologize properly back there. You have my card, right? If there are any dry-cleaning or hospital costs…”
“It’s fine.”
“Pardon?”
“I don’t need it. You can go.”
The voice was low and completely different from the one he had used with Yeo-won. His face had grown so cold that the woman hesitated, wondering if this was the same person from the café.
Paying her no further attention, Jae-young began to hum and walked away. Where he had passed, the woman’s business card lay abandoned on the pavement, a clear footprint stamped across it.