L*st and Death

The room where Siron stayed was the guest room located directly across from Baekgyeong’s. From there, a large window facing north overlooked the backyard garden and swimming pool. Baekgyeong usually spent his mornings and evenings at the pool to avoid the heat of the day. There were more than a few times when Siron, waking up at dawn and absentmindedly glancing out the window, had been startled out of his skin upon seeing Baekgyeong floating motionless like a drowned corpse.

When he asked why he did that, Baekgyeong said that it felt good—because when he submerged himself halfway and listened to the sound of the water, the ticking-bomb-like sensation in his head seemed to lighten.

He usually had a simple breakfast with things like bananas and pancakes, and for lunch, he always ate instant ramen imported from Korea. Whether it was cup noodles, dried noodles, or fried noodles, he didn’t discriminate. Baekgyeong liked ramen so much that he said he could live off it for the rest of his life.

Every day around 7 p.m., Baekgyeong would come down to the formal dining room on the first floor, take his seat at the head of the long mahogany dining table, and have dinner. A brilliant crystal chandelier hung over the twenty-person table, and the dining room was magnificent, with a huge wall of windows offering a view of the mansion’s garden. There, Baekgyeong ate Korean meals like doenjang-jjigae, kimchi stew, and grilled mackerel with rice.

Today’s menu was seaweed soup, and for Siron, the familiar scent of sesame oil filling a dining room finished in cream and white marble—like something out of a European palace—felt surreal beyond belief.

"Your palate is more Korean than my grandma’s."

Baekgyeong, who was mixing rice into his seaweed soup, raised his head and looked at Siron.

"I’m Korean."

In fact, Baekgyeong’s English pronunciation was far from native. To Siron, who had sensitive ears for accents, Baekgyeong’s English wasn’t much different from that of first-generation immigrants he often encountered in K-Town.

"You said you have dual citizenship."

"So what."

"Doesn’t that mean you have to serve in the Korean military?"

Baekgyeong made a gun shape with his fingers and pointed it at his head.

"With this brain? I’m exempt anyway."

"So I guess that’s a good thing? Don’t you want to live in Korea?"

"I can’t even if I want to. It’s hard to get prescriptions in Korea."

Baekgyeong was undergoing regular checkups for a tumor in his brain and had been taking painkillers under his primary doctor’s care. But the painkillers he used were opioid-based narcotics, the kind that frequently drew negative media attention.

Siron didn’t know much about the Korean medical system, but it seemed that painkillers easily prescribed in the U.S. were hard to come by in Korea.

If it hurts that much, can’t you just get surgery?

Siron didn’t make the mistake of saying the question that passed through his mind out loud. If Baekgyeong was enduring the side effects and still choosing to take the medication, there had to be a reason.

Siron studied Baekgyeong’s face. The red shadows under his eyes somehow looked like pathological symptoms left behind by the drugs. It was a face that stirred concern—but no one took him seriously. Not even himself.

Leaving nearly half his rice untouched, Baekgyeong bit into a melon for dessert and said,

"I told them we won’t need a second fitting, so they should deliver the tuxedo."

"Huh? ...Oh. Thanks."

"I put it in your room."

"Thanks. I wouldn’t have had a chance to wear a tuxedo without you. Really, thanks."

Baekgyeong nodded half-heartedly, then suddenly asked as if remembering something.

"What about the car?"

"I rented it with some friends."

"...Money?"

"It’s fine. My parents send me an allowance."

Siron replied quickly. The amount he actually received from home was pathetically small, but if he hesitated, he feared Baekgyeong would toss him a ridiculous amount of money without warning.

"It’s enough to hang out with friends."

"Yeah? ...Well, okay then."

Baekgyeong nodded slowly. Seemingly having lost his appetite, he put down his fork, rested his arms on the table, and leaned his cheek into them. His gaze drifted idly out the window, like he was pleading with the world to relieve his boredom.

After receiving the tuxedo from Baekgyeong, Siron cautiously broached a topic he had debated for a long time.

"Do you... want to go to prom too?"

Baekgyeong said nothing for several seconds. He seemed to be seriously contemplating it, like someone on the verge of a major decision.

"Not interested."

"Oh... yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it’s just a dumb high school graduation party anyway."

"You think so?"

"Sure. Compared to your birthday party, it’s basically a school talent show."

Baekgyeong nodded slowly, staring out the window with an unreadable gaze. It felt like he was pretending not to care but still listening carefully to what Siron said.

"If that’s what you think... I guess so."

As if losing interest in the conversation, Baekgyeong suddenly yawned and got up from his seat. He left Siron, who was still eating, and disappeared through the back door that led to the backyard. Beyond the door was a glass conservatory, followed by the garden and swimming pool. It looked like he was going for a swim, just like always.

Siron stared at the closed door with a conflicted expression and let out a deep sigh. He quickly finished his meal and headed to his room. There, on the snow-white bed in the center of the room, was an equally white gift box. A delicately embossed gold logo adorned the front, and a pearl-colored ribbon was tied in the center.

Siron carefully untied the ribbon and opened the package, pulling out the tuxedo that had been placed inside with care. The neatly folded tuxedo was a classic design with a luxurious satin lapel. Stroking the delicate satin trim, Siron stood up and walked to his desk.

Inside the desk drawer were a one-way plane ticket to Korea and several forms from school. They were guest forms required when inviting an outsider to the prom. He had picked them up a while ago but had never been able to bring himself to ask Baekgyeong to go with him.

As Choi Seongmin and the household staff had said, Baekgyeong wasn’t the worst person imaginable, but inviting him to the prom still didn’t come easily. Siron was afraid that if Baekgyeong lost control and caused a scene at a once-in-a-lifetime graduation event, it would ruin his own reputation.

"Well, he said he’s not interested anyway."

As even Baekgyeong himself had admitted, he only formed relationships with people according to his needs. Recently, the frequency of Choi Seongmin’s visits and the mansion’s wild parties had dwindled, but if Baekgyeong wished, the raucous and vibrant atmosphere of the past could easily return.

"Who am I to comfort anyone, really."

At that moment, music seeped in through the open window. Loud hip-hop thumped through the night air, making it vibrate. Siron approached the window and looked down. In the cold night air, a soft mist formed above the pool’s surface. Baekgyeong was doing freestyle laps in the water.

Watching quietly as Baekgyeong swam with total concentration, as if severing himself from the outside world, Siron gently closed the window—cutting himself off from Baekgyeong’s world as well.

The high school gymnasium had been transformed into a fantasyland by a party planning company. The walls were draped in pristine white cloth and adorned with glowing lights. Disco balls of various sizes hung from the ceiling, harmonizing with the crystal chandeliers. As the lights rotated, layers of multicolored beams dramatized the silhouettes of the dancers.

It looked the part of a perfect party. But having seen the adult debauchery of Holmby Hills mansion parties several times, Siron couldn’t be too impressed by the school’s modest attempt. It didn’t take long after arriving at the party for him to realize the obvious truth: prom was just an extension of high school. Siron wasn’t exactly a standout student at school, and among the crowd of familiar faces at the prom, he wasn’t bold enough to draw attention.

"Ugh, this music is seriously not it."

A folk punk song—not hip-hop or electronic—boomed through the speakers, shaking the air. Every time the mood started to heat up with a decent track, it would abruptly cool down again as cheerful country music rained over the dance floor.

"Someone make a request already. Even the choir singing hymns would be more exciting than this."

"Where did all our ticket money go? Why doesn’t our school even give us snacks?"

At the makeshift bar, there were only various flavored punches and bottles of water—no snacks at all. Melissa, who had dieted for her dress, grumbled and leaned back in her chair, too exhausted to dance.

"I don’t know, I thought it’d be something special."

"I even bought the after-party ticket. I’m already bored and want to go home."

"But look, they’re having fun."

The girls giggled, pointing at a group of boys breakdancing in the middle of the floor. They’d gripe endlessly about how boring it was, then suddenly jump into the crowd and start dancing. Siron didn’t stay out of it either. He didn’t want to end the night feeling like an outsider who just complained about someone else’s hard work.

Even so, somewhere in the back of his mind, Siron kept thinking that he was glad he hadn’t invited Baekgyeong to a party that didn’t even have decent snacks. If Baekgyeong had come, surrounded by classmates who all knew each other too well, he probably would’ve gone home after hearing a bunch of dumb jokes about people he didn’t even know.

Siron kept mocking prom in his head, but before he knew it, he was melting into the atmosphere, dancing with his friends.

As the night came to an end, Siron felt his boyhood fading into the past—into something he could no longer return to. Even amid the cheers and music, a quiet loneliness stirred inside him. It was like witnessing a chapter of life turning—an unavoidable, bittersweet anticipation of a new beginning.

Most of his friends were preparing for college, but he would be leaving for Korea after graduation. The friendships and memories of high school would no longer be central to the next chapter of his life. And Baekgyeong—the fascinating boy Siron had recently become so absorbed in—would soon become nothing more than a scene from a fondly embellished past.

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