We're designed to live (3/4)
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x
Hwasa did not understand what just happened. Jomi, the cop who had been coming to question her every few hours, had just told her she could go home. At least it felt like long hours, Hwasa was not sure because she hadn’t slept and she was tired of being locked in a room whose bare walls reminded her of why she had first got that gun, why she had started the self-defense classes. Her face pressed against concrete, her weak 18-year-old self silenced with a knife against her throat and a body against her back. She had never been able to forget that, but she had learned to suppress the tactile memories so that she wouldn’t feel like that again. She had gotten stronger and learned to fight so that nobody could overpower her that same way, or at least that’s what she kept telling herself every day.
In that cell-- it was a questioning room but it looked very much like a cell-- she was a prisoner of the memories and of the lack of sunlight. The sun made her feel more like Hwasa and less like Ahn Hyejin. Ahn Hyejin had lost hope, she was weak and suffered for it. She had been able to overcome that trauma and ignite the brightness within her again, but that was Hwasa. The singer, the performer, the music student. The young woman who was hopeful and had found reasons to hold on to that hope even if it had just been taken from her again. And then restored one more time.
She looked at Jomi and waited for her to start laughing. The cop didn’t look the type to have such awful sense of humor, but Hwasa could not accept that she was free to go that easily. She wanted to ask if they had found another suspect, if that was related to the seemingly random questions she had either ignored or answered vaguely last time the cop had been there. Did she have any pets? Did any of her friends have a cat? Had she seen anyone besides Ji Yong following her lately? Had she noticed anything strange in her house besides that dead man?
“You might be in danger,” Jomi told her, which was not entirely confusing-- Hwasa knew about her own innocence, which meant there had been a murder in her own house, but why was that cop looking at her as if she was worried? Unless she was trying to manipulate her? “We’re letting you go, but we’ll keep an eye on you. You’re not allowed to leave the city. If anything happens or if you remember anything that might help us, please don’t hesitate to call or even come to us.”
Hwasa stared at the card that the cop was handing her from across the table. She decided to take it, if only for her own protection. She would have to find a place to crash for the next couple of days, since her house was still a crime scene, under investigation. She doubted she would like to go back there even after this was all over anyway. “Can I make that phone call now?” She hadn’t used that yet, and it might have worked against her in the beginning, but now it would be useful. Her purse along with her cell phone and all other important belongings had been left at the house.
Jomi nodded. She seemed to think that would give her a hint, and Hwasa fought the urge to roll her eyes. So they were expecting her to misstep at any given chance now. She was not sorry to disappoint the police by calling her friend Wheein, who Hwasa just asked to come pick her up. They would talk about everything else later.
x
The prisoner was asleep when Chief Mun entered the room. He lay on the bed to which he had been condemned for the rest of his life, suffering from several puncture wounds all over his body. The weapon-- or what seemed to be the same weapon in different sizes-- had never been found, and to this day the assault remained unsolved. Chief Mun’s sneer disappeared as quickly as it came, for he did not like how this man’s suffering made him feel. He surely deserved it, but the thought was a dangerous one. Justice should not be served like this; humanity would come to its dreaded end as soon as that became acceptable.
Junghyuk sat next to the bed, facing the prisoner as he waited for him to wake up. The doctors still couldn’t explain what chemical reaction caused the wounds to heal over the stretch of painful months that seemed to be an illusionary phase, for that soon became a nightmare in which the wounds reopened again. It was not easy for the chief to see this man as a victim. He was a convicted rapist and murderer, but in a way he had fallen victim to his own crimes. He could not move most of the time, and when he could the ties and chains on the bed would keep his weak form in place. He was still alive, but there was no escape. In his state that might be considered worse than death.
The chief’s mind went through the details of his latest case again. The prints connected this to a series of cases but the person was not in the system, which was as enigmatic as the wildcat fur. The attacks had all been against rapists, either accused and freed or convicted and then murdered as soon as they escaped or were released from prison. The one lying on the bed was the only known survival, and the timeline placed him as the first victim of this supposed vigilante. He might not know about the cat, the prints and the others. But he should know about one important detail, one which might drive Junghyuk mad because it was not possible. He would nevertheless take the chance if it meant he could solve this case.
While Taecyeon and Jomi went through the other cases and interviewed relatives and suspects, they had found a possible eye witness. Kim Doyeon had seen someone leaving the building where her boyfriend lived right as she entered it to find him bleeding to death on their bed. Bleeding to death, but still alive. She had never mentioned it before because she thought it was something her mind had conjured, perhaps the ghost of her loved one trying to hurry her up the stairs. But her boyfriend didn’t have green eyes. Her boyfriend didn’t smell of earth and rain and wilderness, nor did he have a cat.
Her boyfriend was the man Chief Mun had decided to visit that day.
The eyes that opened to stare at the chief denied the situation in which the criminal found himself. Or that was the impression he wanted to give, one Junghyuk disregarded effortlessly. This man was ruthless, alright. The chief could be worse than that if he wanted.
“Eric,” his voice came out raspy, low but filled with contempt.
Junghyuk’s face was impassive, unreadable, a look he had perfected over the years. “I’m glad to see you’re alright.”
The rapist let out a sound that might have been a cough-laugh on a good day, but it came out as a pitiful wheeze that drained him of strength. He had probably come up with his own reason for Chief Mun’s presence there. The police rarely came to prisons or their hospitals if not for something good. Something big. And of course this one wouldn’t be willing to cooperate.
“You put yourself here.” The chief spoke calmly, his voice devoid of emotion. By here he meant the hospital bed. The criminal had escaped the prison bars only to have a deadly encounter a few days later. “Or rather, the person who tried to kill you did.”
The big, round eyes that had once been calculating hazelnuts turned to slits. Junghyuk had hit a nerve. Good.
“You know avengers are not my favorite. He’s a murderer just like you.” The chief leaned a bit forward, his head tilting the slightest bit to the side. “But when I catch him, you might get the chance to avenge yourself.”
This time, the sound he made sounded closer to a laugh. A derisive, weak laugh that told Junghyuk he wasn’t buying that. The chief did not expect him to.
“Don’t you think about killing him every day? Your hands around his neck? Life leaving his eyes?”
His face twitched. It was brief, but he could not cover it up. He didn’t have much control over his reactions.
The chief went on, his voice so soft he might be telling a tale to a kid. “And you know that if you ever leave this place, he’ll go after you. In fact, he might be coming up with some way to get to you right now. He’s running out of time, and he’s desperate.”
The prisoner sneered slowly at him, throwing the words back at him. That made Junghyuk nearly smile in return.
“Unlike you, I’m not on the green mile.”
The sneer disappeared so fast, the chief almost laughed. His dark brown eyes just stared at the hazelnut ones in mutual disdain.
“What is it, huh? Something about the word green made you think of unpleasant things?” He paused. “Green eyes, maybe?”
“They’re not green.”
The chief was not expecting that-- a full sentence, the denial that was as forceful as the derision in that disturbing voice. He waited.
“They--” There was a cough, silence of seconds that felt like hours. “They turn green... when he attacks.”
Junghyuk stared at the other. It was not disbelief, it was the realization that he had heard the truth he did not want to accept. And he knew it, he knew this bastard could read it in his face, however quick he allowed this moment of befuddlement to be. He recovered soon. Even though he felt even more puzzled by this case, he had found the answer he needed.
“I know you’re not worth a penny.” He stood up, buttoning up his suit as he did so. “But the fear in your eyes... That’s worth a lot.”
x
“So, you were almost on the news?”
“For the worst possible reasons.” Hwasa grimaced at the thought of her name being ruined because of a murder. Or because of what almost happened. She appreciated Wheein’s trying to cheer her up, but she was still in shock. Now that she was out of the police headquarters she was finally able to process what she had seen when she got home the night before. What she had been spared of. The earth was a better place without men like that but she didn’t want to have anything to do with it.
Wheein was looking worriedly at her, Hwasa noticed, even though her eyes were on the television. They were sitting on the couch in Wheein’s small but cozy living room, not really watching the movie that was on. Hwasa wanted to get distracted but her mind kept betraying her. “I’m glad you’re okay. I mean...”
Hwasa took her hand in hers and squeezed. “I know.” It was as much to reassure Wheein as to give herself some comfort.
“Moonbyul’s gonna bring some of your stuff later.” Wheein had already told her that, but Hwasa still nodded in acknowledgment. She was lucky to have friends who were willing to help her out without question. A police officer would accompany Moonbyul to Hwasa’s house so that she would be safe, or so that she wouldn’t touch anything. Hwasa was inclined to believe both were true.
“Did you talk to Minjun-nim?” Hwasa had been supposed to go see him at the pub that day and tell him about the flower shop. She smiled faintly when she thought about it, and then froze.
Wheein had been about to answer her when Hwasa’s grip on her hand tightened. “Hwasa? What is it?”
She shook her head the slightest bit; she didn’t think she would be able to put into words what had just occurred to her. That cop had talked about a cat. A cat and strange things. Hwasa had noticed the latter, just not in her house. She remembered the first time Minjun told her about Chansung, why the flower shop had been closed... His wife--
“Hwasa!”
Wheein pulled at her arm and shook her until Hwasa gasped, remembering to breathe. Her knuckles were white from holding onto Wheein’s hand, and she might have hurt her. She let go of her friend and stood up; she had to-- she couldn’t just stay there, sitting, helpless--
“Where do you think you’re going!” Wheein grabbed at her arm and held her in place by the shoulders. “Hwasa, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s going on. You know I can handle it.”
Hwasa shook her head repeatedly, but she didn’t try to get away either. Wheein wouldn’t understand. Besides, she couldn’t say anything. Not because she was not sure, but she was afraid she was right. She both hoped for and dreaded it. But voicing her thoughts to Wheein would be dangerous. She took a deep breath and willed herself to calm down. It was late night already. Moonbyul might arrive at any moment and Hwasa would bet a hundred flower crowns that Yongsun was coming with her.
“I just,” she inhaled slowly and deeply, exhaling just as gradually. “I need some air. I was locked in that room all day, and--”
She was interrupted by Wheein’s arms pulling her into a tight hug that loosened into a warm embrace as Hwasa relaxed into her and let herself be held. “I’m sorry,” Wheein whispered. Hwasa heard her sniff but didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry. I promise we can stay outside when the girls arrive, okay? We can even make a barbecue in the veranda.”
Hwasa’s chuckle was a little shaky, but it made Wheein smile at her, so that was good. “I knew our moonstar wouldn’t go far without her princess in tow.”
It was Wheein’s turn to laugh quietly at that. “I guess you’ll be alright after all. Your sense of humor is intact.”
Hwasa made a face at her. But she followed Wheein back to the couch and asked about Minjun again.
“Yongsun talked to him,” Wheein said. “He wanted to see you but she insisted you were okay and that there shouldn’t be too many people fawning over you right now.”
Hwasa smiled. She could hear Yongsun saying that to their sunbaenim, but in a very polite tone, and a warm smile. Wheein’s face was too serious as she stared at Hwasa, because she was still worried. Hwasa entwined her hands again but then thought better of it and linked their arms instead, so that she could lean on Wheein and be the clingy one for once. “Thank you,” she said.
Wheein pulled her closer and touched her hair like a protective sister might do. It was more than enough.
x
A dreamless sleep might be the equivalent to a peaceful night of rest for some, but not Abada. He turned and turned and turned around in bed until the covers were on the floor and his body was covered with sweat instead. He was not awake, but he was not dreaming, and not dreaming meant he could not live.
It was not a matter of remembering his dreams. He always did. He waited for them, worked for them, slept for them. Killed for them. They were very similar one to the other, but every single one was important. Every dream was the one chance he had to be reunited with his mermaid. Every dream was one last encounter before he rotted completely, before she vanished under the burning light of the sun. He had been prepared for that. He knew they were paying the price for tricking Nature, for pretending to be something they were not. He knew this couldn’t last forever, because he had already lost her. He could still see her, but she was not really there anymore.
But he could not. He could not see her if he could not dream. His mind was spinning as he ran through the endless emptiness of the dark. He wanted to wake up and find the way back into his dreams, but first he had to find the way out of his own subconscious.
Abada. Here, he was still Abada. Not the same he used to be, but he had to rely on what he knew of himself. Instincts. Second nature.
He closed his eyes and listened.
There was his own breathing, loud and rushed, the only sound around him. He concentrated on slowing it down until it was silenced. He listened again. And this time, he heard.
“Let me go.”
He wanted to scream, scream so loud the words would be erased together with his own voice. No, his mind echoed, again and again and again. No.
But her voice persisted. “Let me go,” she said. “Let me go so we can both be free again.”
He covered his ears. He was down, curled up into a ball, he did not remember moving but he wanted to run away from the breaking of the one promise that had given him strength. “You said we would be together.”
“We will. In another life. We will meet again. You won’t be Abada and I won’t be your mermaid, but I will always be yours.”
Someone was crying. It was him, he realized. He felt the tears under his hands, and they were salty like the sea. The sea hated him. He had taken her from the sea. And in the end, the sea would take her away from him.
He could almost see her shaking her head at him, but that was just a wish. He was not dreaming.
x
Hwasa saw a blur of orange, brown and white that turned out to be Grumpy, his yellow eyes staring up at her. His tail was up and quivering, but his pupils were dilated and his ears were drawn back. He seemed both pleased to see her and agitated, but the latter might be because of something else. He turned around so quickly Hwasa would have been lost if she wasn’t already in front of the flower shop.
The front door was open and she followed Grumpy inside. He was waiting for her, or so it seemed, the stem of a yellow tulip in his mouth. Hwasa was speechless, her astonishment increased when the cat carried the flower from the vase where it had been to her feet, dropping it there. Grumpy sat on his hind legs, the tail down but the tip of it still twitching. Hwasa looked around her but the shop was empty, the back door closed. She needed to find Chansung, but she picked up the flower first. She noticed the way Grumpy blinked once, slowly, his sullen face seemingly softening. Hwasa wanted to laugh, but she was afraid of offending the cat. Chansung had said he was not usually dangerous despite his fierce glares, yet she wouldn’t risk it.
Grumpy stopped next to the vase and looked back at her. He mewled once, stared at the tulips and touched one of them with his paw. A red one. Hwasa had no idea what was going on but she went there and took the tulip. It seemed to please the cat, but couldn’t explain why she even had that impression, or why a cat would be happy that she was taking the tulips. Did he like to play with them? Did he eat them? Did Chansung know about this?
The wildcat pawed at a white tulip, and a variegated one after that. Hwasa was now holding four of them. She didn’t know what to do with the flowers, but Grumpy probably did. He guided her through the back door of the shop, past the garden, into the forest Chansung had told her to stay away from.
x
There was the sound of waves crashing against the shore. How long had they walked? Where were they? Hwasa turned around in a full circle. She could not understand anything anymore.
Grumpy was nowhere in sight. What about the flowers she had been carrying in her hands? She felt something around her head and laughed, though she was nervous. A flower crown? The tulips had been tied into her hair? How?
She looked behind her at the forest she didn’t remember crossing. In front of her there was a vast, endless sea. The water pulled back slowly, the wind helped it curl upon itself and then it was pushing forward, onto the shore, rolling and wetting the sand. It came so close to her feet that Hwasa feared it would keep going on and surround her, overthrow and swallow her. But it stopped a few inches away before it receded again, spitting out a creature in its retreat.
Hwasa gasped. And then she ran. Not back into the forest but forward, over the wet sand, towards the sea.
“Chansung!” she screamed, falling to her knees next to him, pulling him into her arms. He was soaked and pale and shaking, but he was breathing.
“Fei...” His voice was feverish, but his skin was icy cold. Hwasa touched his face and felt a sob rising up her throat. Had he tried to kill himself? He reached out blindly and Hwasa took his hand, leaning in close to listen to his weak voice. “I had to let her go...”
Hwasa shuddered. She felt colder than the water coming back to surround them, colder than the body in her arms. What did that mean?
“Hwasa... Hwasa...” he clung to her, and Hwasa clung to him.
She had made a choice. She would fight the cold, the water, and whatever else keeping Chansung from seeing her.
x
When Chansung opened his eyes, he was in his bed. The curtains were shut but light still filtered through the windows, as well as the music of the birds. From the sounds they were making, he would guess it was almost noon. He expected Grumpy to show up at any second; the wildcat usually checked on him around this time if Chansung hadn’t left the bedroom yet.
He heard footsteps before the knocks at his bedroom door. Knocks? They hadn’t been an ask for permission to enter but a mere warning that the person on the other side of the door would open it and come in.
It was Hwasa, and she was carrying a tea tray. She smiled at him and put the tray on top of the drawer opposite where Chansung was. She sat at the edge of the bed and poured a cup. Chansung took a deep breath and let the aroma fill up his chest. Green tea with honey. She offered him the cup and he sat up to take it. He thought he felt her gaze seizing him up, maybe to check that he was alright. He vaguely remembered a fever, a dreamless but fitful sleep, Hwasa’s hands on his forehead and the wet, cool cloth she had used to help the fever go away. Hwasa didn’t meet his eyes but Chansung saw a faint blush creeping up her cheeks, and he realized he was wearing the same shirt from that day he had overslept because he had been dreaming.
He was not dreaming now. Even the crown on top of her head didn’t shake that certainty.
Four tulips: yellow, red, white and variegated. Cheerful thoughts and sunshine. True love. Worthiness and forgiveness. Beautiful eyes.
He was definitely not dreaming. He had let go of his mermaid. He had clung to Hwasa and Hwasa had clung to him. Hwasa. Bright. A light in the darkness.
Hwasa poured herself some tea. They drank in companionable silence, until she spoke.
“Tell me your story,” she said.
x
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