Swallow Hunting - vanish into fiction

Contrary to his fears of repeating the same mistakes he made during his part time jobs, Hae-jun carried out his delivery work quite well. The effort he put into learning from Yohan truly paid off. He was naturally polite, and because he worked hard without discriminating between short and long distances, he even started to gain some regulars who specifically looked for him.

The income was also substantial. It was a small amount compared to what he made while working as a host, but he felt it was better than nothing. Thanks to Lee Kang-ju, his monthly rent was covered, so this amount allowed him to pay the interest on his private loans and manage to keep himself fed.

He did deliveries in the mornings and afternoons, and in the evenings, he waited for Lee Kang-ju at home like a puppy waiting for its owner. There were days the man visited and days he skipped. Even when he did come, they didn’t necessarily have sex every time. Sometimes he would just have dinner and leave, or watch a movie airing on TV before heading out. Of course, those were rare occasions. Most of the time, things ended with a messy release.

The advance payment was being steadily deducted every time they spent the night together. The benevolent CEO never forgot to provide a generous service fee as well. He was truly an excellent customer, even if his bedroom manners were closer to those of an untamed wild beast than a human.

The service fee, or rather the tips Lee Kang-ju tucked away for him, was one of the factors that allowed Hae-jun a bit of breathing room. Thanks to that, he had enough leeway to buy Yohan a meal. Yohan refused at first, asking where he could possibly have the money, but Hae-jun felt uneasy constantly being on the receiving end of help without doing at least this much, so he stubbornly insisted on buying him meat.

…Heavy rain exceeding 100mm per hour has poured down. …Strong rain accompanied by thunder and lightning is expected until tomorrow morning, so residents in low lying areas should…

As he waited for his next call, the weather forecast flowed from the radio. Looking at the sky, rainwater was drizzling down from heavy, charcoal gray clouds.

The air grew heavy as if a downpour was imminent, so Hae-jun hurried to finish his deliveries. Nevertheless, he encountered the rain on his way back, and by the time he arrived home, he was soaking wet like a rat that had fallen into a gutter.

He had worn a helmet, so at least his head was protected. Shaking his wet hands, he trudged down the hallway.

“Oh.”

He paused in front of his house. In front of the empty neighboring unit, boxes and supplies were piled up high.

“I guess someone new moved in.”

He muttered to himself and entered his own room. It didn’t matter much to him who moved in next door. Hae-jun stripped off his damp, soggy clothes and finished a shower with warm water.

This was one of the best things about living in this house: the fact that hot water came out whether it was morning or evening. It was on a completely different level from his previous lodging, where only cold water came out at dawn.

He dried his hair and sat leaning against the sofa. The city was trapped in a thick water mist as if a hole had opened in the sky. The sound of rain lashing against the window like a whip was loud.

Suddenly, a flash of light flickered outside the window. Hae-jun’s shoulders flinched upward. In less than a few seconds, a rumble of thunder followed. Hae-jun’s body shook once again.

“Why is it raining like this?”

He muttered and curled his body up. He found his earphones, plugged them in, and turned up the music loudly. He couldn’t hear the thunder because of the noise canceling function, but he couldn’t avoid the flickering lightning. Even with the curtains drawn, he could see the blinking light through the narrow gaps.

Hae-jun hated rainy days. On days when lightning or thunder struck, he would feel a chill on the back of his neck. One might think it’s silly to be afraid of a mere natural phenomenon at his age, but the memories of his childhood remained like scars.

He remembered it being around the time he was five or six years old. There was no one at home. His mother had passed away, and his father wouldn’t return for several days once he went out. He survived on food that neighbors occasionally provided, but in such a modest environment, everyone struggled to even afford a single meal. No one looked after Hae-jun like a child of their own. They simply gave him charity in passing, as if telling him to try and live a few days longer since he wasn’t dead yet.

When it rained, life was even more miserable. Rainwater dripped from the ceiling of the old house. Mold bloomed constantly, and insects like millipedes and woodlice crawled across the damp floor linoleum. If he lay curled up in a corner to sleep and avoid the rainwater, all sorts of insects would crawl up his ankles as if the place were their own home.

The insects were fine. He could just brush them off. What Hae-jun feared most were thunder and lightning. One could avoid the raindrops and insects, and hunger could be filled with water, but there was no way to deal with those two.

The old door rattled in the wind and rain, and beyond it, flashes of light appeared and vanished, followed by a massive roar that trailed behind like a tail.