1

“One jjamppong. One order of gunmandu.”

Panseon shouted from the kitchen as he set the delivery order on the pass. The order had come in just as lunchtime was ending, but Panseon quickly made a bowl of jjamppong and a plate of gunmandu.

There wasn’t a single customer in the dining room. The people who had come in by twos and threes from the nearby church after the service were all gone. Maybe because of the autumn rains, not even the boat crews were around. It was easier without the drinking crowd, but that meant Daehô had to handle all the deliveries by himself through lunch.

Daehô wrapped the jjamppong and gunmandu tight in plastic wrap. If he did a sloppy job, the broth would spill everywhere and the inside of the delivery bag would be a mess.

“Still nothing from Manson?”

Panseon came out of the kitchen in his apron.

“No.”

“Did you text him?”

“No. That bastard only pulls out his phone when he needs something. What’s the point of texting him when he won’t even answer his phone?”

“Huh! Manson always screws things up when we’re busiest. Probably stayed up all night gaming at the PC-bang again. He’s been bouncing from one restaurant to another, and if he gets fired again this time, he’s finished in Sokcho. Hah! That kid’s hopeless.”

Daehô tossed the delivery bag into the basket on the back of the motorcycle, pulled the mask from around his neck up over his mouth and nose until only his eyes showed, crumpled the delivery address Panseon had given him, and shoved it into his pocket.

“This is really the last delivery. Daehô, when you get back, we’ll pull down the shutter and eat lunch. What do you want?”

Panseon said it as he followed Daehô outside.

“Tangsuyuk.”

Daehô smiled and loosely set the helmet on his head. Panseon muttered, “Tangsuyuk again?”

The light at Cheonghak Intersection turned red. Daehô lifted his helmet visor for a moment to breathe in the cool air. A large sign reading ACCIDENT-PRONE AREA hung crooked beside the traffic lights. A Mercedes behind him started honking. Daehô turned his head and saw an out-of-town license plate. He ignored the honking and waited for the light to turn green. When it did, he started off slowly so he wouldn’t skid on the wet road. Then, as soon as they cleared the intersection, the Mercedes suddenly tore past him, crowding him dangerously. Daehô lost his balance for a moment, and the containers of jjamppong and gunmandu slid from side to side inside the delivery bag. Just then, a dull crash came from the direction of the three-way intersection by Geumgang Apartments.

When Daehô reached Seorak Apartments, he took off his gloves as he rode the elevator up. He reached the seventh floor but didn’t ring the bell. There was something he had to do first.

Daehô took the bowl of jjamppong out of the delivery bag and pushed his thumb hard into the plastic wrap until it tore. His thumb sank deep into the jjamppong broth. Daehô sucked his thumb, then put the bowl back in the delivery bag.

He rang the bell. The door opened.

“Hey, you. What took you so long?”

A potbellied middle-aged man in briefs and an undershirt immediately snapped at him. Daehô said nothing. The man held out a fifty-thousand-won bill. As Daehô counted out the change, the man snapped again.

“What took so damn long? Now the jjamppong broth’s gonna be cold.”

The front door slammed shut.

Daehô went outside the apartment building and breathed in the cold air. He got on the motorcycle and started the engine. The steady autumn rain suddenly turned into a storm. Daehô took one deep breath and slowly pulled away.

Autumn always came one step early to Sokcho. No sooner did the beach close for the season than autumn came striding in. The mountain wind coming down from Misiryeong and the sea wind blowing in from the East Sea had both grown sharp and biting. With rain like today’s, it felt less like autumn than early winter.

Daehô was riding down from Seorak Middle School toward the three-way intersection by Geumgang Apartments when a piece of a signboard came loose in the strong wind. He hit the brakes hard to avoid it.

The motorcycle lost its balance and slid.