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墨書 Inktalez
Park Chan-yeol came out of the bathroom, drying his slightly damp hair, and saw Anna sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in thought.
"What are you doing?" Park Chan-yeol asked.
Anna, feeling a bit scared in the current environment, was startled by Park Chan-yeol's sudden question.
"Nothing, I'm just tired and taking a break."
Park Chan-yeol noticed her unease and smiled, "Are you scared? Who was so brave earlier and said they wanted two rooms?"
"How was I supposed to know we would end up in such a terrible place?" Anna replied helplessly. "Alright, I'm not talking to you anymore; I'm going to take a shower."
After a whole day of traveling, feeling cold and hungry, Anna's hunger intensified after her shower. To her surprise, when she came out of the bathroom, Park Chan-yeol had prepared two steaming bowls of ramen. At that moment, it looked more appetizing than any gourmet dish.
"Come eat something; it's so late, and we won't find anything else to eat," Park Chan-yeol said.
"How did you manage to bring ramen?" Anna exclaimed in surprise and delight as she eagerly sat down. Just in time, she took a sip of the broth, and her body warmed up immediately.
"I often travel abroad for performances. After shows, it's usually late at night and I'm exhausted; I don't have the energy to go buy food. Plus, just in case I can't get used to the local food, bringing ramen is essential," Park Chan-yeol explained.
"I used to think you all lived like in a TV drama—glamorous and materially rich. But the more we talk, the more I realize your lives seem less carefree than ours behind the scenes," Anna said.
"If you're doing what you love, you won't feel like you're suffering. Just like you; that day during filming when you were freezing, weren't you still really happy?"
"Yeah, Brother Jae-seok said that we who can pursue our dreams as our careers are already very lucky and have nothing to complain about," Anna replied.
Park Chan-yeol smiled and said, "Eat up; don't let it get cold. After eating, hurry to sleep; we have to set off early tomorrow."
Both of them ate heartily when suddenly awkward 'moans' came from the next room. The sounds grew increasingly urgent and intense. Anna and Park Chan-yeol instantly felt embarrassed, lowering their heads and focusing solely on their bowls of ramen.
Time passed without her noticing, and when she finally lifted her head, there was not a drop of ramen broth left.
“How much longer until we get there?” Anna asked.
“Oh, we’re not far from Koslief Town now. The lights you saw in the distance outside the door should be from the town. He was buried on a small hill to the south of the town.”
Anna looked out the window. From this angle, she could no longer see those lights, but she could imagine the tranquility of Koslief. He had lived such a tumultuous life, yet chose to rest his soul in such a quiet place.
After finishing the ramen, she lay down on the bed, sharing a blanket with Park Chan-yeol. However, since they both slept along the edges of the bed, there was a large space in between them.
Park Chan-yeol thought about turning off the light.
“Can you leave the light on?” Anna’s words interrupted his movement.
He glanced at her and understood her various anxieties in this place. “Alright,” he replied, withdrawing his hand.
No amount of sleep on the plane could alleviate the fatigue from their journey. Before long, Anna heard Park Chan-yeol’s soft snoring.
She turned her head to glance at his back, adjusted the blanket to cover him better, then returned to her previous position with her back turned and closed her eyes.
The night passed peacefully. After packing their bags, they continued their journey. Instead of taking a vehicle, they walked towards the small town that was faintly visible under the sunlight.
Entering Korslev Town felt like stepping into another world. The dangerous and uneasy atmosphere of the motel was nowhere to be found here; it was peaceful and quiet. Everyone was extremely friendly, dressed simply without any of the extravagance found in cities. The pace of life seemed to slow down; elderly people with silver hair sat by the creek soaking up the sun. The weather was lovely, with most of the snow melted away. The creek water was clear and bright. Children rode their bicycles while young girls with flushed cheeks walked in groups carrying fruits. Young men appeared unbothered by the cold, some wearing only vests as they built new houses.
It might be rare for them to see Asian faces in this town, drawing kind yet surprised glances. As their eyes met, Anna and Park Chan-yeol smiled politely and greeted them.
They walked through the town heading south, and soon a quiet little hill appeared before them. Just as Park Chan-yeol had said, it was getting closer and closer, making Anna feel increasingly anxious.
On the hillside, a flock of sheep grazed peacefully. A sheepdog spotted Anna and Park Chan-yeol, barked a few times, and then guided the flock further away from them.
Finally reaching the hilltop, Anna saw that beyond it lay an endless expanse of spruces. On this side of the hill stood a solitary cross-shaped tombstone that made Anna's heart ache painfully before she could even appreciate the beauty around her.
"Over there," Anna murmured to herself.
Park Chan-yeol had also seen it. Facing the cold wind, he didn't know if it was due to the emotional turmoil or the chill, but his eyes and nose had turned red.
Why choose to rest here, in such a desolate and secluded place? Even if that town was peaceful and beautiful, just a small hill away, you had already placed yourself outside of warmth.
Step by step, he approached the grave. There were no photos, no names; apart from a heavy cross and a mound of earth behind it, there was nothing else.
"I'm here to see you." Anna squatted in front of the grave, touching the cold, hard soil with her hand.
Park Chan-yeol, who never smoked, took out a pack of cigarettes from his bag, lit three of them, and placed them in front of the grave. "Yunqian... I haven't called you that in so many years... I owe your father so much; I don't know how to repay you. The Park Group has collapsed... I've repaired your parents' grave; aside from that, I really don't know what else I can do for you..." Park Chan-yeol's voice grew smaller and smaller until it was finally drowned out by the wind. He turned away, wiping away the tears he had been holding back.
Anna glanced at him before turning back, as if she smiled but also seemed to cry.
"You didn't want me to be curious about you, but I still came. I didn't listen to you. I came here because I truly regret not saying some things before you left. You said everything you wanted to say, but you never gave me that chance... Now that I'm here, I don't even know what to say..." Anna bitterly curled her lips, but soon tears began to fall onto the ground. She bit her lip and stubbornly wiped away her tears. "I don't know why; I just wanted to come see you. It's enough for me to know where you are."
There were no other words exchanged. Knowing their hands and feet were numb from the cold wind, they had traveled through mountains and rivers, covered in dust, solely because of their obsession with Hogga and their guilt towards him. This man had stormed into their lives like a tempest and left just as hurriedly, leaving them unprepared. His life's tragedy was always beyond his control. Entangled in such hatred and surrounded by such contradictions, he fought against the demons that bred hatred in his own way. Whether it was regarding his own death or that of others, he always moved at his own pace—calmly and composedly. His mysteries seemed to be laid bare before the world; yet this man remained an enigma. And there was one mystery that lingered in Anna's heart—one she could never unravel herself. Even now that she had come here, this mystery remained exceedingly complex. Anna thought that arriving here would resolve this puzzle; she believed this obsession would dissipate with this tribute, but it was all in vain... The words in Anna's heart could not be spoken here; that red scarf she hadn't packed would probably sleep forever in Anna's closet.
What was that mystery in her heart? Were those sorrows truly related to love?
Since it couldn't be unraveled, she decided not to think about it anymore. If time couldn't provide answers, then there was no need to torment herself.
Thinking of so many things in her heart ultimately led to silence. If there truly were souls present, without needing words, they would surely hear each other. As they left that place, the sun slowly became obscured by a cloud. Anna and Park Chan-yeol stopped simultaneously, looked up for a moment, then turned back; the grave on the hillside was already blocked by trees. Seeing that people had left, the sheep and Sheepdog slowly made their way back toward them...
"Let's go," Park Chan-yeol said.
"Okay," Anna nodded.
Soon after, the clouds drifted away, and sunlight once again spread warmly across the grassy slope. Approaching the foot of the hill was a tall and thin German man carrying a backpack who walked slowly toward them. He wore black-framed glasses and appeared polite; upon seeing Anna staring at him, he smiled courteously.
They brushed past each other.
Anna and Park Chan-yeol continued on their way.
What they didn't know was that this German man was a doctor named Frank...
A branch-like vascular tumor, huh, this medical term I had never heard of was actually written on my examination report.
"Frank, are you sure this black, hard patch on my elbow didn't just suddenly sprout freckles?" I asked.
Frank, the German man who never joked—oh no, he was still young; I should say this serious young doctor from Germany—still maintained his usual solemn demeanor as he said, "I never joke, Hogga. This condition cannot be cured, but we can use medication and other means to control its time until death."
Time until death? He didn't use 'mortality rate' to make a judgment but rather gave me a 'time frame.'
"How much time do I have left?" I became serious as well.
"If controlled well, living four to five years is not a problem."
"That's quite long," I said.
"Yes, in four to five years, you can do many things you want to do."
I really wanted to tell him that wasn't very comforting.
"I don't feel any pain right now," I said.
"That's just the initial symptoms. Gradually, this black hard substance will spread to your entire arm, palm, and fingers; both hands will be affected. Later on, the legs will also develop these. This is due to the malignant mutation of cancer cells, and there are only about fifty cases of this condition worldwide."
"Well, I guess I'm lucky."
"I can use medication to slow down their growth rate, and if it grows too much, surgery can be performed for some cleaning. However, in severe later stages, even after cleaning, you will find it difficult to perform certain actions and will experience excruciating pain."
"It seems I'm going to become a monster."
Since a long time ago, after I underwent full-body plastic surgery, Frank has become the doctor I see most often. He never talks nonsense and communicates the patient's condition in the most direct and efficient way. In Germany, patients absolutely have the right to know about their health. For example, when I had my ribs broken during a fight, which nearly punctured my heart, he told me, while I was still dazed before entering the operating room, that there was only a twenty percent chance of survival. He insisted that I had to be strong during the surgery; otherwise, I would definitely die on the operating table.
Fortunately, I survived and wasn't scared to death by him.
This time, however, Frank looked at me with a hint of concern in his eyes. I was not used to seeing him like this; he usually has a robotic demeanor.
"Hogga, you are my patient and also my friend. I will do my best to help you live for five more years and become one of the longest-living patients with this illness," Frank said earnestly.
"Thank you," I replied as I stood up. "Regardless of whether I can live for five years... since time is short, there are some things I need to get done."
"Don't worry; you will definitely live that long," he said seriously.
I wanted to tell him that the comforting words at this moment should be 'I will find a way to save you.' But then again, it's always difficult to convey Eastern sentiments to someone from Germany.
"Frank, please prepare some medications for me; I need to leave for a while," I said.
"Okay," he agreed. "But where are you going?"
"To Korea." I turned around. Since there was no solution in sight, as Frank suggested, I would focus on completing the most important tasks in the time I had left.
They say when God closes a door, he opens a window. I sat by the fountain in the square for a long time; smoking was not allowed here. If it were possible, there would surely be cigarette butts all over the ground beneath my feet.
I watched the crowd in the square—tourists with black hair, locals with golden hair, dark-skinned individuals, fair-skinned ones, and an Asian tour group wearing red hats busy taking selfies.
A strand of my white hair fell into my eyes; it seemed that the hairspray wasn’t applied very well.
My hair color, my appearance, everything about me had long been lost in some past moment. Now, all I felt was hate instead of love. The arrival of all this was unexpected. My time was limited, and there were still many things I needed to do. As I touched the slightly hardened skin on my arm, I wondered if it spread further whether my hand would end up looking like Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy. At that point, maybe I'd even consider raising a raccoon.
Oh well, hopefully Cat wouldn’t stew it.
Cat had told me her real name, but strangely enough, I could never remember it clearly nor did I care enough to memorize so many details; after all, those things weren't that important to me.
After the explosion, all that remained in my mind was the blazing fire and my mother's disfigured face. I lay in the filthy mud, my whole body aching as if it were about to tear apart. I didn't understand why Yura was by my side; how could such a frail girl help me escape that place?
As she tended to my wounds, she cried incessantly.
I endured the pain in silence; back then, I could still shed tears.
But if I had known I had become such a grotesque sight, I would have preferred to die rather than let Yura see me like that.
"Don't cry." I wiped away her tears with my hand, but left an even uglier smear of blood on her face.
The light was dim, and she lowered her head, reminding me of the first time I met her at Park Anqing's house. She didn't talk much but always had a sense of tolerance that seemed beyond her years, smiling gently at everything around her.
Chan-yeol told me she was adopted from an orphanage. I could understand Chan-yeol's mother's intentions; she wouldn't live much longer and needed someone to bring warmth to Chan-yeol's life. She also knew that Park Anqing couldn't provide that for Park Chan-yeol.
It was indeed a wise decision, that clever woman.
"My name is Yura. Hello, Yunqian-ge," she said with a smile.
"Hello, Yura."
When Chan-yeol's mother passed away, Yura was especially heartbroken. After all, regardless of her intentions, she had given Yura a home. Yet even in her sorrow, she held back her tears, a small girl doing everything she could to protect her brother, who shared no blood relation with her.
Perhaps it was her inner stubbornness that took root deep within me at some unguarded moment, an indelible mark. Playing by the sea, she got her shoes wet; under the sunset, I carried her on my back as we walked slowly along the beach, our footprints quickly washed away by the waves. At such a young age and with such a small heart, I didn't understand what love meant. All I knew was that when she smiled, she was so beautiful and warm, gently embracing everything around her. From that moment on, Yura became an irreplaceable beauty that was impossible to replicate. I wanted to be with her and began to dream of the future...
However, if fate has already decided to destroy you, it will do so thoroughly.
The car's headlights shone through the broken window; the sheer terror reflected in Yura's bright eyes became a beautiful nightmare I would never forget.
I hid among a pile of filthy, stinking garbage bags and didn't dare make a sound until I saw Park Anqing pull the trigger inside the house.
The bloody hole in the back of Yura's head became proof of just how cowardly I had been at that moment.
I am in pain, not knowing exactly where it hurts, but it feels like I am about to suffocate.
Heavy rain pours down, leaving me dirty as I crawl back into that small room, with only a pool of thick blood left on the ground.
My life, all my warmth, has been shattered by that explosion and melted away by this heavy rain. My tears have finally dried up; from now on, there will be nothing worth crying over.
I must survive, even if it means living like garbage.
Swaying unsteadily, I can walk slowly, but with each step, my skin feels like it has been sliced open and doused with chili oil. A small puddle reflects a monster standing still, its shape constantly distorting with the ripples in the water.
However, there is a place that welcomes such monsters.
They collect various twisted and incomplete bodies of homeless people, packing them into the damp and stifling holds of cargo ships like livestock, under the pretense of transporting goods. Most of the time, they sail along the high seas route, chained up, with only a small amount of water and compressed biscuits for food each day. I don't know how long it has been; some of the already unhealthy people around me have begun to turn into foul-smelling corpses, flies buzzing around them. Without any light, it doesn't seem too terrifying; it's only when someone comes in once a day to deliver food that I can vaguely see their decaying forms lying on the ground. When the stench becomes unbearable, those people are taken out to return to the ocean, completing the cycle of natural law.
How I survived is unclear to me; I just know that I cannot die.
Finally off the ship, I was directly loaded into a container truck. Day and night blurred together until the container opened to reveal a desolate wilderness. We livestock were lined up and taken down an underground freight elevator.
The smell of smoke and alcohol stung my nostrils. The people who came with me spoke in a language I couldn't understand—perhaps they were pleading with those tall butchers with dark or fair skin to spare them. I smiled coldly.
My smile caught the attention of a dark-skinned foreigner with a big belly; he pointed at me without saying a word.
The others in his group nodded and pulled me aside while the other livestock were locked away in a windowless room.
Is this how I'm going to die?
What kind of death will it be?
Surely they won't tell me to use this face to accompany beautiful ladies for drinks and sacrifice myself; I can't imagine anyone having such peculiar tastes.
After rinsing my body with cold water—though I no longer have hair—I would have suggested they give me a haircut since hairstyle is so important for a person.
I was chained up and heard them speaking; I couldn't tell if they were speaking Italian or German.
When the heavy security door opened, the bright lights and vibrant atmosphere overwhelmed me, as I hadn't seen such strong light in a long time. A tall Black man pressed down on my shoulder, forcing me to crouch on the ground.
It was only after that I realized this was an Underground Bar in Germany, where we 'Livestock' were continuously brought in from all over the world. It wasn't just from China, but also from India, Laos, Myanmar—such occurrences happened with alarming frequency. Most of them were homeless, disabled individuals, or mentally ill patients. Even if they went missing, no one would come looking for them. These people were sent here to be auctioned off to wealthy patrons seeking entertainment—killed, tortured, or whatever else the highest bidder desired. If someone died in the bar, there were ways to make their bodies disappear.
This felt eerily similar to a horror movie I had seen before; that was just a film, but this was real.
I lifted my head slightly and saw a middle-aged German man embracing a teenage girl with an Asian face, sizing me up. The girl was heavily made up and nestled against the German man; their relationship was obvious at a glance.
How despicable...
I thought to myself.
But in the next moment, the girl pointed at me and said something to the German man. Soon enough, he generously pulled out a check and handed it to a bunny girl. The bunny girl then transferred the chain from my hands to the girl's.
The girl was ecstatic and began kissing the German man. I could see his excitement growing in his pants as his hand slowly wandered from the girl's underdeveloped chest downwards...
It was truly nauseating.
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