Chapter 2: Wake Up, Thief

A voice called out to him from somewhere.

It was a stream of English pouring down so fast it made him dizzy, not a single word comprehensible.

When he barely managed to open his eyes, he saw something dark looming above him.

The world around him dimmed at the same time.

Looking closer, it was a man.

The man had bent at the waist and was quietly studying Si-hyeon’s face.

The man blinked once, then tilted his head slightly before lowering himself to one knee.

The distance between them shrank in an instant.

“Ah…”

The man said something while looking at him, but the words failed to reach his ears.

The sound of his own ragged breathing was too loud; nothing else could get through.

Regret came suddenly.

He should never have come on this trip in the first place.

Doing something beyond one’s means always invited disaster, so why had he done it?

Just as you should wear clothes that fit your body, he should have lived his whole life quietly in Korea.

What foolish wish had driven him to go this far?

No.

Even if he had known the future, Si-hyeon would have scraped together the airfare and flown to New York anyway.

Because he had needed to see the scenery people described as so beautiful.

Because he had needed to see the night view from that expensive hotel he had dreamed about like a fantasy.

‘When the leaves turn in Central Park, it’s unbelievably beautiful.’

A gentle voice slipped into his fading consciousness, and Si-hyeon closed his eyes.

‘If you cross the Manhattan Bridge at sunset, when the sky burns orange, you’ll hear music from somewhere. Street performers playing beside a small hat set out for tips.’

Though his face had been ruined by burns, that voice had always been warm.

Whenever he held Si-hyeon’s hand and spoke softly of the past, the world had felt tender and safe.

Sometimes he had wondered.

How did a man without a passport know about New York, fourteen hours away by plane from Korea?

How did he know about autumn in Central Park, or how the streets changed when the ice froze in winter, or how beautiful the sunset looked from the Manhattan Bridge?

He had been curious.

But he never asked.

The fragile air around him had always felt as though it might shatter at the slightest touch.

Why had he chosen New York as his first destination?

Because it was the farthest place?

Why had he thought he should go there first, as soon as he saved enough money?

“…Dad.”

Was this what they meant by a life flashing before your eyes?

They said that when a person was about to die, the past swept by in an instant.

It felt exactly like that.

At the touch shaking him, Si-hyeon forced his heavy eyelids open.

The first thing he saw was a pair of blue eyes.

They were like the sky just before dawn, darkest and stillest before the horizon was swallowed by light.

At the same time, a scent brushed past his nose, familiar, yet utterly foreign.

It lingered in the air as though it had always been there.

As the fragrance drew closer, Si-hyeon parted his lips.

The words he wanted to say dissolved before they could take shape.

****

“My wallet!”

At the steady beeping sound, Si-hyeon’s eyes flew open.

He tried to bolt upright, only to collapse back down.

“Ugh…”

His body was far more honest than his bold shout.

Groaning at the pain in his back, he drew in a slow breath and let it out.

After repeating it a few times, the pain eased slightly.

Lying still, he clasped his hands together tightly.

The beeping became clearer.

It was the kind of sound often heard in hospital dramas.

When he turned his head sharply, a green line flickered wildly on a monitor.

Strange pads were attached to various parts of his body.

Anyone could see he had been admitted to a hospital.

Now that he thought about it, his back hurt quite a bit.

Though the room was dimly lit, the faint scent of alcohol at his nose was unmistakably hospital-like.

Blinking slowly, he tried to recall why he was here.

The answer surfaced quickly.

His wallet had been stolen.

He had gone back to the hotel to reclaim a tip and ended up breaking a painting.

After that, he had apparently fainted.

If he ever wrote a memoir in his old age, this would be a story worthy of applause.

They said life looked like a film from afar and a melodrama up close.

…Or was it the other way around?

Whatever.

That wasn’t the important part.

Right now, he was penniless, and on top of that, he had damaged someone else’s property.

The painting had looked expensive at a glance.

Why on earth had he touched it?

Regret floated up relentlessly.

“Ah… what am I going to do…”

This was all that thief’s fault.

If not for him, Si-hyeon would never have returned to the hotel, never entertained the pathetic thought of reclaiming a tip, and certainly never touched that painting.

He hadn’t even cared about it when he’d stayed there before.

It was so unfair he felt like crying.

“This is so unfair! Damn it, you piece of trash!”

After cursing the thief breathlessly, he carefully pushed himself upright.

There were casts on his arms and legs.

Great.

Now he would owe hospital bills too.

The moment he lowered his legs to the floor, the dim room flooded with light.

“‘Unfair’ is a word politicians use as casually as they eat their meals.”

“…?”

The voice came from beyond the curtain.

Question marks filled every fold of Si-hyeon’s brain.

The curtain slowly drew back, revealing a smiling man.

It was him.

The deranged man claiming ownership of Si-hyeon’s wallet, Cha Hae-jun.

Si-hyeon’s gaze sharpened instinctively.

“Excuse me, why do you keep accusing me of stealing something? Did my wallet suddenly announce it was changing owners? What exactly did I steal that you keep calling me a thief?”

Instead of an answer, he received a steady stare.

Perhaps it was the blue eyes, but Cha Hae-jun looked like a cold statue carved from ice.

That didn’t mean Si-hyeon would back down.

He had nothing left to lose.

At last, Cha Hae-jun looked away.

It was a small victory, yet Si-hyeon felt oddly triumphant.

That feeling lasted only a moment.

“Very well. It seems you’re not entirely in your right mind yet. A mild concussion, and hairline fractures in your arms and legs, understandable. I’ll take that into account. In your condition, you won’t be going anywhere anyway, so we can take our time. When my lawyer visits next, you’d better answer properly. However… I would appreciate it if we could refrain from wasting any more time.”

Having said his piece, the man disappeared behind the curtain as abruptly as he had appeared.

Left alone with the beeping monitor, Si-hyeon kicked his foot in frustration, only to groan as pain shot up his leg.

He was furious and wronged, yet had no way to vent it.

****

After that, Si-hyeon was subjected to a barrage of tests as if they had been waiting for him to wake.

They drew his blood.

And drew it again.

And again.

His vision swam from how much they took.

For over four hours, he was shuffled from one examination room to another.

No one explained why.

Naturally, Cha Hae-jun was nowhere to be seen.

He had been quick to accuse him of theft, yet vanished now.

With no explanation and endless tests, Si-hyeon finally snapped.

He refused to let them draw any more blood, stubbornly digging in his heels.

The tests stopped, but he was confined to a luxurious hospital room instead.

When he protested that he couldn’t afford the hospital fees, guards appeared at the door.

He was effectively trapped.

If there was any consolation, it was the food.

For a hospital, it was astonishingly good.

Light vanilla pudding that wasn’t overly sweet, seaweed soup, perfectly grilled meats, rolled omelets, and fluffy white rice.

At times it felt less like a hospital and more like a high-end Korean restaurant.

After polishing off lunch, a flicker of worry surfaced.

Was it really okay to be eating this well?

It was only after another full day passed that he met someone new.

A man claiming to be Cha Hae-jun’s legal representative.

Just like his brazen client, this lawyer was shameless.

Si-hyeon stared at the business card with the word “Lawyer” printed on it before looking up.

“Please take it.”

The lawyer handed over dozens of pages filled entirely with English.

To Si-hyeon, it was nothing but black ink on white paper.

He felt utterly illiterate.

How was he supposed to read this?

After staring at it for a long time, he gave up.

“Please explain it verbally. I’m not very good at English,” he added quietly.

The lawyer removed his glasses and hooked them into his pocket.

“This is documentation certifying that my client has paid the painting’s cost in exchange for the transfer of your personal custody. It has been notarized by attorneys in both Korea and the United States. Please confirm.”

Though he still couldn’t read a word, Si-hyeon nodded as if he understood.

“Fine, but why do you keep accusing me of stealing when I didn’t steal anything? Does that make sense?”

“The painting’s cost has not been unconditionally settled. My client has agreed to a conditional repayment. Naturally, the condition is the return of the stolen item. Otherwise, full legal procedures will be initiated against you.”

As if Si-hyeon’s words meant nothing, the lawyer continued speaking over him.

Like client, like attorney.