Chapter 3 — I Know Nothing — Part 1 (3)

A slender crescent moon hung caught in the branches of a tree above the subway exit. Cold wind licked at my face, buzzing insistently that the outside world had grown colder.

Despite the chill, Miss Kim, dressed stylishly in a skirt with only a thin layer over it, approached with cheeks flushed pale blue, as if struggling against the wind, her figure blocking the moon caught in the branches.

"Cold?"

I stepped out of the station and quickly shrugged off my trench coat, draping it over her shoulders.

"Yes. Spring's later than I thought."

She accepted it, slipping her hands into the sleeves, and answered quietly.

"On nights like this, nothing beats hot oden broth—not coffee. Do you like oden too, Miss Kim?"

"Of course. When it's cold, oden is the best."

"Know any good places?"

"No, but if you do, take me there."

Just across the underground passage and one block away stood a shabby food cart selling grilled sparrows and oden scraps. Though tucked in a dim alley, it was always crowded.

The oden here was legendary—simmered gently in a broth of dried anchovies, its depth enriched by the clean sweetness drawn from flower crabs. Those in the know would come from far just for a taste. Even though I hadn't visited once last winter, I regretted it now—finally returning on this chilly early spring night, my mouth already watering at the thought of steaming broth.

"You must love your family a lot, David."

"Yeah. I try to be warm."

"How long have you two been together?"

"Hmm… about ten years, maybe?"

"And it hasn't cooled at all?"

"Cooled? I plan to be with her until I die."

"Wow, that's amazing. With divorce rates number one in the world these days."

"A pot that heats quickly cools just as fast."

"So you had a hard time getting married?"

"Yeah, it was difficult. We married against both families' wishes."

"That's so romantic."

"Yeah, I suppose it was."

"Boring. Tell me the real story."

"No, nothing special—just not an easy love like most."

"To think even someone as stern as you had romance… surprising."

"Everyone has someone who fits their eyes, like glasses. Nothing extraordinary."

"Then… will I ever find someone who catches my eye?"

"Sure. When someone blindfolds you with beans, you'll lose your soul and just marry."

"David… do I really come off as frivolous?"

"Frivolous? No. You're beautiful."

"But why were you upset earlier?"

"You looked hurt. I saw how hard it was on you when Miss Park got hurt, and then you just ignored me."

"Wow, David… you're really deep."

"You understand?"

"I do. If you scolded me out of care like that, then I truly respect you."

"Glad it's settled so easily."

"David, since I misunderstood, let me treat you—let's go somewhere nice, not this gloomy place."

"Why? You don't like it here?"

"Ah, it's so dull. Feels like a senior center."

"Yeah, an oden stand isn't really a place for someone as lively as you."

"Exactly. Now that I realize my mistake, I feel like I'm flying."

"Then where to?"

"David… have you ever been to a nightclub?"

"No. Maybe once, ten years ago?"

"Ugh, so outdated..."

"I've got no rhythm. My shoulders don't move, and I'm always off-beat."

"Then just watch me dance?"

Following Miss Kim's lead, we found a nearby nightclub. It was packed with kids so young their blood hadn't even dried yet. I scanned the room for anyone my age, but even if I turned my eyes inside out, all I saw were wild, bouncing youths.

Watching the reckless energy on stage, I already felt pushed aside from the world's core rhythm. I remembered a time when I too had raged on dance floors, mocking middle-aged people who dared enter this world as smelling of old age.

Now, I was that very person—cast far from the joy of the present.

We ordered basic snacks and beer. Miss Kim, apparently seeing me as nothing more than a seat-warming dog, immediately rushed onto the dance floor, lost in a frenzy of movement.

Memories flashed—of when stages felt too small for my tango and blues. Back then, after every high-energy song, a slow rock would play, creating a soft space for lovers.

Now, a slow song came only once every ten tracks. The impermanence of time was undeniable.

"David, it's blues."

Miss Kim jolted me from my thoughts, shaking my arm and pulling me toward the stage.

The lighting deepened, casting long shadows. The vast space, moments ago filled with wild dancing, now quieted. The young crowd settled down, leaving a wide, open floor for a few.

"You know blues?"

"No. Isn't it just holding on like this?"

"I'll lead. Just follow where I push with my toes."

I stepped forward, gently guiding her foot with mine. She swayed, unsteady at first, then began to follow the rhythm.

"Wow, David, you're amazing at blues!"

"Yeah, this is just the basic step. Wait till I add appel—you'll be dazed."

"What's that?"

"Just follow my lead for now. Once you're comfortable, by the next song, I'll show you what blues really is."

"But you said you couldn't dance?"

"I forgot. My shoulders won't rise anymore."

After a few tries, she managed the basic step without trouble. Then the lights flared, the air buzzed with spinning strobes—high-energy go-go music exploded.

I quickly retreated to my seat, leaving her dancing alone, sinking back into thought.

"David, can I dance with that guy?"

A whisper in my ear. I turned.

"Who?"

I scanned the room, curious who dared ask.

"There—him with the beret. He's a film director. He wants to dance with me."

"You want to?"

I hadn't expected her to say yes.

"Yeah. If I dance with him, I might get somewhere."

She had always dreamed of being in a movie. This one dance felt like a gate to that fantasy.

"If movies mean more to you than me, then go."

"Just tonight—if I dance with that beret guy, I become an actress."

She pleaded like a child throwing a tantrum. I glared at the director—dancing with such grace, so effortlessly cool for his age.

But why stop her? Her body wasn't on the line yet. And I had no right to crush her desperation.

The blues filled the hall. My girl, once dancing so beautifully, now had both arms around the beret man's shoulders, grinding in a slick, clinging rhythm.

Without looking back, I left the club.

She never appeared before me again the next day.

Months later, her face suddenly covered every street in Myeongdong—blown up on a poster for some forgettable domestic film, just another trendy pop song.

Erotic actress. Korea's top female star. For years, she ruled the media as the fantasy lover of countless men.

A woman lost in a nightclub—her life had begun, dazzlingly, like that.

---

Miss Kim approached again.

"David, the blues is playing."

Like waking from a dream, I rushed onto the dance floor. The difference between what was lost and what was abandoned became clear.

I wrapped both arms around Miss Kim's waist.

Her slender arms circled my neck. My lower abdomen throbbed, already pulsing with thick veins, straining against an invisible wall.

Through her thin sweater, her breasts pressed against my chest, soft yet firm, creating pressure beneath.

The music flowed, soft and slow. Our breaths grew rough. I slid one arm down, caressing her hip, pulling her closer.

Ignoring the desperate press of her lower body, I let my other hand gently trail through her hair.

I breathed hot against her earlobe. Then, aiming for her lips—red and burning—I dipped down, pressing mine against hers.

Contact. Parting. My tongue slipped past even teeth, tracing the line of her teeth, exploring the ridges. A hot, eager tongue surged toward mine.

Our tongues entwined—no leader, no follower—devouring each other.

The hand in her hair boldly slid down, claiming the peak of her breast. Firm. Even firmer than before.

I caressed. Pressed. Circled. Miss Kim remained expressionless, her silence in the face of my touch astonishing.

I moved my hand lower, resting it on the mound above her hips.

She flinched, pulling back slightly—but then leaned in, as if pretending not to notice, pressing harder into my palm, craving the sensation.

"Let's go."

"Where?"