Fairy (요정) ✓

Chapter 2

[Sim Daejung]

Not knowing if the author of that message will answer soon, I decide it's time to pack and leave this place. As much as I like the room, I can't stay here forever. I need to save as much money as I can until I find somewhere new and possibly a new job.

I put my shoes on at lightspeed and make my way to the reception to pay and move on from here. Easier said than done, though. The gentle lady from yesterday stops me on my tracks, asking, "Good morning, sir. Did you sleep well?"

I scratch my head. "Yes, it was nice. Well, I was quite tired-" I fumble and, as a result, fail to go straight to the point. I'm supposed to tell her that I really need to go, that, as much as I'd love to be here, I just can't. The more time I waste here, the worse. And, probably, the more I have to pay. I know I sound like a broken record right now, but I need to save as much money as I can.

She, however, notices my distress and asks again, "Are you already leaving? You know, there's the pastry buffet at the restaurant downstairs. You should try it." I shouldn't give in to the temptation. I really need to go. But I can't just turn down this offer. This lady is such a good host and I don't want to disappoint her.

With a heavy heart, mainly because I know I'll run out of money, I answer, "Thank you for the offer, madam. Where is the restaurant?"

Without saying a word, she leads me to a huge hall downstairs, where a large table full of every kind of pastries and other sweet treats stands at the center of the room. Around it, there are about ten tables, each with three wooden chairs. This looks like one of those tea rooms you would imagine when you read a book.

As I realize I'm losing my composure, I pinch my left cheek and then point at a table by a window, at the corner of the room. "Can I sit there, if possible?" I usually pick the most secluded seats when I go to a bar or a restaurant. I don't like having all eyes on me when eating. I'm so used to having meals on my own that having to share them with other people would just be awkward.

Fortunately, she doesn't seem to have any issues with my request. "You don't need to ask it. Feel free to sit where you desire," she states, after which I go and take the seat I've just chosen.

I leave my stuff by the table and reach the buffet. For every pastry, doughnut or scone I pick, my sense of guilt grows. But how can I just resist those treats? It's literally impossible, and it's not just because I have the sweet tooth.

When I'm done filling my tray, I count twenty-three items on it, including a bread roll. Hunger has a price, and I'm more than willing to pay it, even if it leaves me broke.

***

It turns out I'm lucky today. The hostel's owner, Mrs. Leggett (if I'm correct), is so kind that she's making me pay only half of the fee for the room, and is basically offering me the breakfast buffet I had an hour ago. I won't stop thanking her for such a selfless act. Her business isn't really going well and, in her words, my visit was the best thing that happened to her in two years.

As she explains, "Due to stupid COVID-19 and the new rise of big chain hotels, small B&B owners like me were bound to struggle a lot and are still in for a lot of sufferance. I nearly had to close two years ago," I realize that the pandemic destroyed life projects, made people change their perspectives and sucked their hopes away.

During those hard years, all I did was to try to breakout in such a difficult situation. Not that anything else was possible. I just couldn't stay idle while seeing other inmates back at Haute Heights struggling with their families, with their jobs, with their aspirations.

And I? I was alone, in a place I could call home, and didn't have to face real time struggles like the others. Mine were linked to my past and, instead of facing them, I just tried to repress them. After all, I wanted to be in peace and not have to deal with more bullshit.

Before I can recall more painful memories, Mrs. Leggett clears her throat. "Sir, so I assume this is the time we part ways, right?" I just nod, not looking directly into her eyes, but she notices that I'm still lost in my thoughts. "Sir? Are you okay?"

I slightly bow and then glance at her. "Sorry, I was kind of... distracted." Even though she doesn't seem convinced by my apology, I assume she'll just let it slide. "Oh, I also need to apologize for not introducing myself properly." I mean, I only showed her my ID, but she deserves a proper introduction. "My name is Daejung. Sim Daejung."

"Oh, okay, now it's all clear." Why do I think she suspects I lied about my identity? This is the one thing I've almost always been honest. Why should I hand her a false ID card, especially knowing that I might be caught easily?

Fortunately, she manages to explain herself better. "Oh, no, don't think I'm suspicious. It's that I was just unsure of which your name is." It's understandable, after all. According to Korean naming tradition, the surname comes first. Not everyone here in the USA knows it and may be mistaken.

"By the way," she concluses, "it's been a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sim. Right?"

I nod. "Right." That said, I take my bags, greet Mrs. Leggett one last time, and leave the B&B. I stand for a couple of minutes outside the entrance door to stare at the building. "I don't know if I'll be back, but this place already holds so many memories," I mutter, and then start walking toward an unprecised direction.

***

The subway in the New York metropolitan area is fascinating and at the same time dangerous. I admit I haven't taken it many times, but this time I really need to. I don't have any other choice if I want to move faster and without having to struggle too much with the bags. Okay, they're just three, but they're damn heavy.

I hop on a train without thinking too much or checking its destination. Well, not that I have a set one in mind. The wagons are strangely half empty, which is a surprise considering that the subway tends to be packed every day, at nearly every hour. What the heck is going on?

Since there are several empty seats, I take one, paying attention to my bags in particular as they take up quite some space. For the following three or four stops, no-one seats next to me, much to my relief. At least, I can check my phone every once in a while without having to worry about anyone possibly poking their nose.

After about twenty-five minutes since I took this train, however, someone finally sits next to me. It's a woman around my age who looks uneasy. I would feel the same if I were in her shoes. There can be creeps here, and I don't think she trusts anyone.

It turns out I'm wrong. She asks me straight away, "Are you new here? I've never seen you on this line."

I have never seen her either, and this trip is going to be really interesting...