Double-Piece

A hanok is such a fascinating building. It’s beautiful in the daytime, but even more so at night. Perhaps it’s because of the lights the servants busily kindle, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

Ajin enjoyed lighting up different parts of the house. Electric lights were used in each room, but lanterns still lit up the corridors. Flat stones were laid under each lantern to prevent any chance of a fire.

They were so pretty—the lights reflecting on the glossy floorboards, the soft orange shadows filtering through the paper screens, and even the scent of the evening meal drifting in were all beautiful.

Or was it something other than beauty?

Lighting up the house meant it was time for dinner. The kitchen was bustling, having to feed dozens of hungry men who had just returned home from work. Ajin, who had been lighting the lanterns, quickly joined the kitchen, which felt like a battlefield.

Tonight’s dinner included a feast of dishes: premium beef jeon, Busan-style pork soup—a favorite among the men, perfectly ripened kkakdugi (radish kimchi), a fresh napa cabbage salad prepared with Aunt Kkot-nim’s special touch, golden kimchi pancakes, spicy squid pickles, and white rice.

The women piled up bowls of rice like little mountains, and then Ajin and the other men carried these dishes to the tearoom adjacent to the kitchen.

Originally intended as a tea room, the spacious tearoom had large folding doors, making it a fitting place for the gang members to gather for meals. The ceiling was so high that, when looking up, the main beam seemed almost out of reach.

Aunt Kkot-nim would mutter, “At least they’re not making us set up a table in every single room,” with satisfaction.

Ajin diligently carried the hundreds of dishes. His mouth watered as he eyed the beautifully plated beef jeon on the fine porcelain.

Once the table was set, and thick cushions were neatly laid out, the gang members began to arrive. By then, the servants would leave, and Ajin would remain alone to finish up. He placed a few bottles of Western whisky with labels in foreign script, along with some clear soju bottles, beneath the table.

Even though he limped along slowly, the gang members didn’t rush or yell at him.

“Hey, bring two more bottles of soju here.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Seok-joo hyung doesn’t drink that whisky. Bring the one with the dark brown color and the black label.”

“Ah, yes!”

They only asked for what they needed. It was a stark contrast to the gambling den, where he heard “crippled” remarks at least five times a day. There, men would mock him, betting five hundred won that he couldn’t hop like a rabbit or race them.

At first, Ajin found it odd that these so-called bad guys who could kill people didn’t mock him for his limp. Later, he learned that several of the gang members, like him, were also injured.

Some had tendons cut in their arms, making it hard to move their fingers, or had legs impaired from knife wounds.

Perhaps that’s why none of them taunted or belittled him. Well, except for the other servants who had come over from the gambling den—they still called him a cripple, a limper, or a gimp.

Once he’d finished distributing the drinks, Ajin moved toward a door at the corner of the tearoom. It was a side door leading to the kitchen. The servants used this door instead of the sliding main door.

Ajin was just about to open the door and step onto the stairs leading down to the kitchen when—

“Hey, everyone! Hyung-nim’s here.”

Myung-jin’s voice brushed against the back of his head. Ajin turned quickly. Seok-joo, now in just a white dress shirt, was entering the tearoom.

Ajin stared blankly at him. He had looked imposing even in his jacket, but now, with only his shirt on, his broad shoulders and muscles were even more pronounced.

He looked cool. Ajin was caught up in his thoughts when a gang member sitting at the end of the table turned to look at him. Startled, Ajin quickly closed the door and hurried back into the kitchen.

Aunt Kkot-nim spotted him and waved him over.

“What are you standing there all blank? Come here and eat,” she said.

She held a large bowl of pork soup, with chunks of meat visible through the milky broth. Ajin, grinning widely, limped over.

—

Ajin was outside the back door of the kitchen, doing the dishes in the backyard filled with rows of jangdokdae (earthenware jars). The large wash basin, big enough for Ajin to lie down in, was piled high with dishes of all kinds. Ajin and a few other servants sat around it, scrubbing away with vigor.

Though it was spring, their fingers turned red from scooping up the stream water. Ajin’s fingertips felt as if they would burst like ripe berries. The others each had a kettle of hot water nearby to dip their hands in, but Ajin’s spot remained empty.

No one offered him hot water, and he didn’t ask for it either. It wasn’t that he was being denied any privileges. There was hot water in the kitchen; Ajin simply couldn’t be bothered to heat it up himself.

Ajin blew on his soapy fingers, now covered in suds.

Just then, a heavy kettle landed beside him with a thud. Ajin, crouched on a small stool, looked up to see Aunt Kkot-nim scowling down at him.

“I told you to use hot water, you fool…”

—

*Chik, chik,* clucked Kkot-nim with her tongue before turning away. Grinning slightly, Ajin watched her as she walked off, her broad hips swaying.

“Thanks, Auntie!”

Ajin eagerly dunked his frozen hands into the kettle. His once-numb fingers tingled as they warmed up, and he delightedly splashed them in the water a bit before resuming the dishwashing.

Just as the washing was nearly done, Ajin sniffled, his red, frozen ears brushing against his shoulders as he rubbed them. At that moment, an awkward figure approached the dishwashing crew.

It was Isun, looking pale as a sheet. She was twenty-eight and had come here with Ajin from the gambling den. She had a flat nose bridge, a low forehead, and freckles sprinkled over her cheekbones.

She twisted her legs uncomfortably and shook a small, square box.

“Can someone take this up to the boss’s room? I… I’m about to, ugh, do my business any second. But this has to go there right now. Some ladies just arrived. Anyone? It’s not a hard job. Just open the door and put it on the table beside the sofa.”

In response, the dishwashing crew collectively leaned back with a clear aversion. They balked at the thought of delivering something directly to Seokju’s room.

Ajin, however, was different. He eagerly raised his hand and stood up.

“Me! I’ll go, noona!”

“Oh, thanks, Ajin.”

Isun tossed the box to Ajin before scurrying off to the outhouse beyond the storeroom. Ajin grinned and wiped his wet hands on his clothes before glancing down at the box she had tossed him.

[Condoms – Extra Large Size]

Ajin chose not to walk around the outer porch but to cut through the inner hallway. Usually, servants moved outside the house, and even the gang members themselves avoided stepping into that hallway, given that it led to Seokju’s quarters.

But not Ajin. Since he often swept and cleaned that hallway, he wandered through it comfortably and, this time, with even more urgency since Isun had said the delivery was pressing.

“Condoms…”

He kept glancing down at the box as he moved briskly along the endless corridor.

Ajin knew what condoms were—he was an adult, after all. In fact, he had known about them even before adulthood, thanks to his job at the gambling den. Of course, he had never used one. After all, what woman would be interested in a lame-legged, scrawny guy like him?

But here Seokju was, using them not individually, but in a box.

“Man, so lucky…”

Ajin sighed. It would be a miracle if he ever used even one in his lifetime. But the melancholy didn’t last long; he brightened up almost immediately, excited.

Finally, he would get to step inside Seokju’s room. The biggest room in the house, Seokju’s room had always piqued Ajin’s curiosity. He wanted to see how big the bed was, what kind of wood the desk was made of, and what the armoire looked like.

He passed the tea room, the small restroom, Myungjin’s room, and then the indoor garden, finally arriving at the hallway leading to Seokju’s quarters. At last, he reached the door to Seokju’s room.

Ajin swallowed nervously, staring at the much larger, thicker door compared to the others.

Is Seokju in there? What if he is? He had only thought about looking around the room and hadn’t anticipated actually encountering Seokju. Well, it wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong; he was just running an errand. Still, he felt a bit anxious.

“*Whew*…”

Taking a deep breath, Ajin reached for the doorknob. But just then, the door swung open on its own. Startled, Ajin took a step back.

“And who are you?”

A woman with long hair down to her chest stood in the doorway. A wave of perfume—similar to the kind worn by the women from the gambling den—drifted toward him. She was beautiful, with red lips that held a thin cigarette and a mole under her right eye. He couldn’t tell if it was real or just a trendy beauty mark.

Ajin immediately understood why this woman, in her tight, low-cut dress, was here.

“Oh, this…”

He held out the box of condoms hesitantly. The woman took it.

“So, you work here?”

“Yes.”

“Such a little baby.”

The woman chuckled and gently pinched his chin, making Ajin flinch and pull back his face, shaking her hand off with a scowl.

“I’m not a kid. I’m twenty.”

“What? Then why didn’t you grow taller?”

“…”

Ajin pursed his lips, tugging his unruly bangs down to hide his face a little. It was his way of masking his embarrassment.

Not growing tall was no wonder! He’d gotten hurt at age ten; of course he hadn’t grown. He wanted to shout it at her, but he lacked the courage. Besides, with her in high heels, she was nearly his height—and maybe even stronger than him, for all he knew.

Kkot-nim Auntie once told him he wasn’t meant to live this way. The things he did, his personality, even his looks—it all suggested he should have been the youngest son of some rich family, doted on and pampered his whole life.

But what good would it do to say that now? He’d only get laughed at.

The woman’s laugh rang out in response to Ajin’s resentful expression.

“Cute. Hey, kid, go grab me some cigarettes.”

“I’m not a kid…”

Ajin muttered with a pout. Because the estate was far from the city, it was tough to buy cigarettes, so there was a stash in one of the storage rooms. It wasn’t a difficult task, but for some reason, Ajin didn’t want to do it.

“*Tsk*. Just go get it already.”

She clicked her tongue in irritation. Ajin twitched his lips in frustration. After all, he had come all this way on his bad leg, only to see neither Seokju nor Seokju’s room. He was annoyed, but as a servant, he had no choice.

With a sullen expression, he turned around—only to find himself face-to-face with a white shirt front.

It was Seokju.