Chapter 8 : Han Dojun (1)

We stepped out of the auditorium to be greeted by the dusky sky.
A cool breeze snaked through the city, lifting our spirits.

“It’s… night already! Will the front gate still be… open?”
“Of course, it will be. We needed permission to use the auditorium in the first place.”
“Oh… right. Haram, what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”

Hyelin’s question made me frown.
Tomorrow was Saturday.
The start of a golden weekend for students.

I mentally reviewed my plans.

‘Chat with Mom, watch TV with Dad, catch up on some variety shows…’

I summed up my weekend plans in one phrase.

“Um… home security duty?”
“Home security duty?”
“It means I’ll be lazing around at home doing nothing. Use your brain.”

Dojun interjected, saving me the trouble of explaining.
His blunt explanation annoyed me slightly, and I glared at him.
He caught my eye and chuckled.

‘What’s gotten into him?’

I tilted my head, puzzled by his unusually friendly behavior after the initiation ceremony.
Hyelin, sensing the awkwardness, spoke hesitantly.

“Um… then, how about we all go see a… play tomorrow?”
“A play?”
“Y… Yes. I’ve seen plays on video, but I don’t… don’t think I’ve ever seen one live… so I thought it would be nice to go together.”
“Not a bad idea. I’m in.”

I had no other plans, and I also wanted to revisit Daehangno, the theater district. So I agreed.

“Sorry, I have to help my parents on weekends.”

Junseok scratched his head with a sheepish smile. Filial piety was always an acceptable excuse.

“A play? I’m in if it’s a play.”
“What’s gotten into *you*? I thought you’d refuse.”
“If you don’t like it, go by yourself.”
“No, it’s fine. So, it’s settled then. The Class 1-1 theater party consists of three members.”

Dojun agreed to join us.
Come to think of it, he always participated in theater-related activities in my past life.

“B… But where do we go to see a play?”

Hyelin covered her mouth with her hand as she reached for her phone, intending to search for theaters.
I and Dojun answered her innocent question almost simultaneously,
“Hyehwa.”

***

A clear March breeze blew through the streets.
The warmth of the sun blended perfectly with the cool air, creating ideal weather.
Inspired by the pleasant weather, the streets were filled with youthful energy.
I waited for the others at Marronnier Park.

‘I should buy some new clothes.’

Last night, I had opened my closet, hoping to find something suitable to wear. What I found was a harsh reality.

My girly room had already made me uneasy, but the contents of my closet filled me with despair.
Floral dresses, a mountain of skirts, and scraps of fabric masquerading as off-the-shoulder tops.
Everything was the complete opposite of my taste.

This was the consequence of my minimalist approach: “A student only needs a school uniform.”
I eventually compromised with black sweatpants and a white sweatshirt stolen from my sister’s closet.

“Excuse me… Can I get your number?”

As usual, the streets brimming with youth became a hunting ground for romance.
A man approached me, expressing his interest.
I had a prepared response for such situations.

“I’m a minor.”

Usually, this was enough to deter them.
But this man was persistent.

“I… It’s okay.”

Well, I admired his tenacity.
But I had another ace up my sleeve.
One word from this overlord, and this foolish soldier would lose his morale.
I smiled pleasantly and said,

“I’m gay.”

Having crushed another man’s heart, I checked my watch with a frown. Plays usually started after 2 p.m. We had agreed to meet at noon so we could have lunch together. But even at noon sharp, they were nowhere to be seen.
Just then, Hyelin called.

“Hey, I’m waiting at Marronnier Park. Where are you?”
–I’m sorry, I just woke up! I’ll leave right now!
“Don’t bother. It’ll take you at least two hours to get ready and come here. Dojun and I will just hang out by ourselves today.”
–I’m really sorry…
“You know, you’re not stuttering.”
–Oh… uh? I… I’m usually fine when I’m in a… hurry.
“You started again. Just relax and get some rest.”

Her stutter disappeared in her haste.
Of course, once she realized it, she started stuttering again.

Dojun finally showed up. He strolled leisurely as if being late was perfectly acceptable.
He spotted me waiting alone and said,

“Where’s Lee Hyelin?”
“She overslept. She just woke up, so I told her not to bother.”
“Really? Yeah, it’s too late now.”
“Let’s get something to eat first. I’m starving.”
“Where do you want to go? Any place in mind?”
“Of course. Just follow me.”

I led the way, my body instinctively navigating the familiar streets, despite it being my first time here in this life.
Dojun groaned when we arrived at the restaurant.

“…Here?”
“Yes!”

Tucked away in a small alley, a banner hung in place of an LED sign.

[Gukbap: 5,000 won]

Nothing beat a hearty bowl of Gukbap for lunch.
(TL Note: Gukbap – Korean soup with rice)

***

We stepped out of the restaurant, cheeks bulging with peppermint candy, after devouring our Gukbap.
Dojun looked at me incredulously.

“Do you usually like Gukbap?”
“Yes! I love it!”
“Don’t girls usually prefer pasta or spicy rice cakes?”
“You have no idea how much of Daehangno’s theater scene is fueled by Gukbap.”

Tender meat, a rich, hot broth, and rice, all for the affordable price of 5,000 won.
A bowl of Gukbap was the ultimate luxury for a poor theater enthusiast.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that almost every play in this district was made possible by Gukbap.
Even the stars of Chungmuro, the heart of the Korean film industry, probably started their journeys with bowls of Gukbap. Dojun was speechless after my passionate Gukbap manifesto.

“So, what play should we see? Want to walk around and check?”
“I found one while I was waiting. It looks interesting.”

I showed Dojun the play poster I had found on my phone.

[Don’t Trust That Person!]

The reviews praised it as a high-quality, interactive play.
Dojun nodded in agreement.

“Looks good. Bodam Small Theater? Is it around here?”
“Just a short walk past that intersection.”

We soon found the Bodam Small Theater sign. A rundown building with small windows. It looked promising.
Dojun, unfamiliar with small theaters, commented,

“It looks like an office building.”
“It *is* a small theater, not a grand art hall. Soundproofing and all that, you know.”

We entered the theater and bought tickets.
The original price was 10,000 won, but the staff member, smiling kindly, gave us the student discount of 7,000 won each.
We were lucky enough to get front-row seats.

The play began. As soon as the lights dimmed and the actor appeared on stage, Dojun frowned.

The main character began his performance as a fake doctor, expertly swindling an older woman.

“Ma’am, this is the miracle cure approved by NASA! It kills cancer cells in a day and can even bring the dead back to life! And now it’s finally available in Korea!”
“Oh, doctor! So, my daughter can be cured?”
“Of course! Oh, hold on.”

He took out his phone and pretended to answer a call.

“Hey, Daniel. What? The US wants to buy all of our medicine? Well, I had a feeling after seeing Obama’s face turn pale. I’ll talk to you later. Bye-bye, friend.”

The woman looked around anxiously, swayed by the con man’s bluff.

“Doctor, Obama… Isn’t that the American president’s name?”
“You heard that? Shhh, it’s a secret. So many people want this medicine, it’s a real problem for us.”
“I… I’ll buy it! How much?”
“1 million won.”
“Oh dear, I’m a little short. Wait a moment. I’ll call my son and ask him to send me some money.”

The con man stopped her from calling her son and quickly revised the price.

“No, 500,000 won.”
“But you just said 1 million!”
“Are you from the Gyeongju Kim clan?”
“Yes, I am. Why?”
“Queen Seondeok appeared in my dream last night and said she’d reward those who are kind to their children. So, just for you, 500,000 won.” (TL Note: Queen Seondeok was a prominent Silla Dynasty Queen)
“Oh my, I’m so blessed by my ancestors! Blessings upon you, doctor!”

The woman pulled out a crumpled white envelope from her pocket.
The con man raised an eyebrow, pretended to count the money, and handed the woman a small container.
She clutched it preciously and exited the stage.

As the actress playing the older woman left, the con man turned to the audience and began his sales pitch.

“Alright, folks, the miracle cure is here! Raises the dead, raises *other* things too! This is your chance to live!”

The audience laughed at his comical performance. This was the charm of interactive theater.
The actor spotted us and said,

“Hey, lovebirds! Are you two a couple?”
“What do you think?”

Playful, I linked arms with Dojun. He gave me a disgusted look.

“Judging by his face, he’s head over heels for you. You two are a match made in heaven.”
“Nope. You’re wrong.”
“Really? My eyesight must be failing me. Hold on.”

The actor pulled out a container identical to the one he gave the woman, took out a pill, and swallowed it. Then he spoke again.

“You’re enemies! Sworn enemies! What did you do in your past life, young lady?”
“I guess I did something wrong.”
“See, everyone? Raises the dead, cures blindness! You still don’t want to buy it?”

The audience laughed at his antics.
Dojun, however, maintained his disgusted expression.