They asked directions to the public bathhouse. This time, the old lady at the ticket counter did not plug her nose and turn her head. Since it was the middle of the day, they had the whole bathhouse to themselves. Baldspot was so enchanted by the hot water that rained down from the overhead showers that he could only stick one hand under and laugh. When Bugeye shoved him all the way under, Baldspot jumped and shrieked at how hot it was. The water in the tubs, which had been filled in the morning, had cooled to just the right temperature. Had the grown-ups been there, they would have opened up the tap and overflowed the tub with scalding hot water, but Bugeye was perfectly content and sank down until the water was up to his chin. As the muscles in his groin warmed and relaxed, he felt the urge to pee, so he went ahead and did it right there. A pool of yellow spread out around him. Who cares? It’s just us, he thought.
‘Aren’t you coming in?’ he asked Baldspot, who was playing around, scooping the water with a plastic dipper.
‘No, it’s too hot.’
‘It’s not that hot. It feels really good …’
Baldspot stepped up onto the ledge around the outside of the tub, and stuck one toe into the water.
‘See? It’s not hot,’ Bugeye said.
Baldspot carefully climbed in and sat on the ledge inside the tub with his chest sticking out of the water. After a long soak, they got out, and soaped and scrubbed off the dead skin. Bugeye helped Baldspot first. He remembered how his father had once scrubbed his back for him with a rough cloth, and how he twisted away from his father’s hands, complaining that it hurt, and how his father had given him a smack on the bum and told him not to exaggerate. As he shampooed Baldspot’s hair, he saw that Baldspot had a burn scar on the back of his scalp. The patch of pale, wrinkled skin where the hair no longer grew was about the size of his palm. The hair at the top of Baldspot’s head was so matted that it took several soapings, and when he rinsed it, the water ran black with grime.
Bugeye and Baldspot finished up in the bath, stepped out into the locker room, and saw themselves in the mirror: they looked like completely different children. Bugeye’s naturally fair complexion had returned. His wet hair was ruffled, and his cheeks were flushed and vibrant. When they put on their new underwear and socks, and dressed themselves in their new clothes, they looked like two clever boys on their way home to a high-rise apartment having just finished up their after-school piano class or English class or what have you.
‘I don’t recognise you anymore, hyung,’ Baldspot said with a laugh as they left the bathhouse.
‘Me neither. No one would call you Baldspot now.’
‘I do have a name. It’s Yeong-gil.’
Bugeye stopped short and laughed with delight.
‘Yeong-gil? That’s been your name this whole time? Ha!’
‘Hyung, what did they call you in school?’
To his own surprise, Bugeye found himself blurting out his old name.
‘Jeong-ho. Choi Jeong-ho.’
Baldspot tittered. ‘Choi Jeong-ho? Haha!’
As they walked, they kept calling each other by their names, bursting into laughter, and saying each other’s names again. They caught another intercity bus across the river; as soon as they crossed the county line, they were in the outskirts of the city. Baldspot kept his head pressed to the window and stared in awe at the unfamiliar city passing by outside the window. Bugeye knew the area well: it was just a little further to where they could take the subway. Baldspot seemed overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sight of all the people on the street who looked and dressed nothing like the people of Flower Island. He turned to Bugeye.
‘They look like the men in the management office.’
Bugeye was about to explain to Baldspot that, in this world, they were the ones who were different, but he caught himself. The bus reached its final stop on the outskirts of the city, and they got off and headed for the subway station. Baldspot looked terrified while riding the escalator.
‘Hyung, where are we going? The stairs are moving.’
‘We’re going underground.’
‘No! Let’s go back up!’
‘We’re getting on the subway. It’s a train that moves underground.’
In the subway car, Baldspot clung nervously to Bugeye’s hand. Bugeye studied the subway map to figure out where they should get off; the first place he wanted to go was the intersection near the marketplace and his old neighbourhood, out on the eastern end of the city. It took close to an hour to get from one end of the city to the other. Baldspot fell asleep with his head on Bugeye’s shoulder. Bugeye shook Baldspot awake and stepped out into the familiar-looking station. He walked fast, eager to get above ground.
‘Hyung, I’m hungry.’
Bugeye realised from Baldspot’s whining that they should have eaten right after they left the bathhouse. Once above ground, Bugeye spotted the pedestrian overpass and the familiar-looking shops near the intersection and the entrance to the market that was always clogged with motorcycles and small trucks. The boys headed for a Chinese restaurant on the second floor of a building near the corner of the entrance to the marketplace.
As they went up the stairs, Bugeye asked Baldspot, ‘Have you had jjajangmyeon before?’
‘No, what is it?’
Bugeye wordlessly pushed open the door to the restaurant with a practised hand. It was after lunchtime, but nearly all of the seats were full. They sat right next to the entrance, and Bugeye ordered two bowls of jjajangmyeon with a double serving of noodles. When the food came out, Baldspot’s mouth split into a wide grin.
‘I had this once a long time ago. I’ve been calling them black noodles.’
‘Where did you live before?’
‘Dunno. Can’t remember. I went to school for a little while, and then my mum went away, and I moved to Flower Island with my dad.’
It had been so long since Bugeye had eaten jjajangmyeon that he could hardly slow down enough to chew the noodles, and kept swallowing them whole instead. Baldspot polished off the last of the black bean sauce in his bowl and said to Bugeye, ‘Hyung, let’s live here.’
‘We can always come back. We’ll bring Mum next time.’
Bugeye took his little brother into the chaos of the marketplace. He went back to the spot where his mother had sold her wares. At first, the other ladies there didn’t recognise him, but when he crouched down and greeted them, one of the women gave a shout.
‘Aigu, who is this? Aren’t you the son of that nice lady?’
The cheerful woman who sold vegetables and was always ready with a smile was excited to see him.
‘You look good!’ she said with a hearty laugh. ‘Did you mother remarry? Is your new neighbourhood treating you well?’
Bugeye couldn’t resist the urge to brag, as they all did in that neighbourhood.
‘Yes, my mum has her own store now.’
‘And who’s this?’
‘My little brother.’
‘So you got yourself a new daddy, huh?’
With all of the commotion that the women were making, Bugeye’s original idea of visiting the girls in the sweatshop and the boys from his old neighbourhood went away. He had missed this place ever since moving to Flower Island, and yet now that he was here, the feeling faded. Bugeye stuck his hand in his pocket and ran his fingers over the still thick stack of bills. He led Baldspot out of the market.
‘Where are we going now, hyung?’
Bugeye had one specific destination in mind. Once, back when his father was in charge of a small crew of junk collectors that manned one of the city districts, Bugeye and his parents had gone out to eat together. He remembered that they’d eaten bulgogi somewhere downtown, and that his father had said it was his mother’s birthday. That day, his father had led them into a department store on the main street to buy Bugeye’s mother a pair of shoes for her birthday; they�
��d wandered up and down and all around the different floors until they stumbled across an enormous display of toys. Children were crowded around near the staircase, so Bugeye ran over to see what they were looking at. A tiny train raced along a miniature track. There were tiny stations, and a forest and a village, tiny houses with pointed roofs, and miniature people no bigger than Bugeye’s fingers. Off to the side, a bear lumbered, a rabbit hopped, a monkey beat a drum. As Bugeye begged his father to buy him the train, his father snatched him up off the floor and carried him downstairs. Bugeye never forgot about that busy street and the department store.
The two boys rode the bus thirty minutes to the southern end of the city centre. At a big intersection, Baldspot stared, his jaw hanging open, at all of the shiny office buildings and hotels and stores of every size, and at bars and restaurants, while Bugeye dragged him along by the hand in search of the department store. There were only a few days left until Christmas: strings of lights blinked from every tree along the road, and everywhere Christmas decorations glittered and sparkled.
Finally, Bugeye spotted a building with a giant Santa Claus dressed all in red and riding a sleigh driven by reindeer. The entire front of the building was plastered with decorations: gift boxes wrapped in red ribbons, fluffy white snow drifts, and individual snowflakes in every possible colour, magnified and sparkling like stars. The Christmas tree near the entrance was hung with gold and silver, and red and blue balls and cottony snowflakes, and at the very top shone a single enormous star. All around them was the bright, cheery sound of carols. Baldspot looked positively bewitched.
‘Who’s that old guy?’
Bugeye told Baldspot the same thing the grown-ups had told him when he was younger.
‘That’s Santa Claus. He goes around at night when everyone’s asleep, and leaves presents for good girls and boys.’
Baldspot’s face fell.
‘I read about him in a picture book at the church school,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think he ever visits our neighbourhood.’
Bugeye told him exactly what he’d been thinking ever since he was little.
‘It’s just a lie they made up so they can sell stuff.’
‘Good thing we’ve got the Mr. Kims then,’ Baldspot said with his usual giggle.
Bugeye thought about the fact that the dokkaebi would never, ever come to this street, and he inwardly felt happy about that. The entrance to the department store was crowded with women and children: it turned out there was a chocolate stand set up just in front. There was a big stack of everything—from boxed chocolates, to small packets of chocolate decorated in different colours, to individual chocolates wrapped in shiny red and blue-and-silver foil. A bowl was piled high with perfect little squares of chocolate, colourful chocolate balls shaped like bird eggs, chocolates with almonds embedded inside, and more. A young, uniformed woman was handing out exactly one piece each to the children crowded around her. Bugeye shoved his way up to the front of the bowl, plunged his hand in, and hurried away with a fistful of chocolate. The woman started to say something, her face showing her annoyance, but she just as quickly gave up.
Baldspot wolfed down the pieces of chocolate that Bugeye gave him and asked, ‘Hyung, who makes this stuff? My tongue is melting.’
Bugeye took him by the hand and led him into the department store. The shiny glass and endless variety of objects in their display cases made them dizzy. The two boys swam through the crowd of people, heading past the sparkling displays of cosmetics and perfume and watches and necklaces and jewellery, to the escalator that never stopped moving up, up, up. At the next floor, they had to walk all the way around in a circle before they found the next up escalator. After stumbling through the first time, Bugeye swiftly caught his bearings, and at each floor he led them confidently around in a circle and up to the next.
Finally, he found what he was searching for. Dolls, stuffed animals, action figures. Cars, planes, tanks, helicopters. A train racing along its tracks just like the one he’d seen as a little boy. Toy handguns, machine guns, ray guns, and robots. Fire engines and police cars and race cars. Boxes filled with dozens of miniature automobiles. And video games. Of every variety. Bugeye’s jaw hung open. Baldspot’s hung even lower. All they could do was stand there frozen and stare in awe at the array of marvellous items that surrounded them. Finally, Baldspot came to and slowly made his way around the store, picking up the first toy he saw at every step, studying it, squeezing it, rolling it, and smiling nonstop. An employee in a button-down shirt and tie came over to Baldspot.
‘See something you like, kid? Look but don’t touch, okay?’
Bugeye looked up at the man and said boldly, ‘I’m buying a present for my little brother.’
‘That so? Hang on a sec. All the kids are going crazy over this.’
The employee took down a box from a shelf, and pulled out something the size of a small book. He pressed a button, and a light appeared: a figure on the screen began to move.
‘I can see you’ve heard of it,’ he said. ‘It’s called Super Mario.’
Baldspot’s eyes were fixed on the tiny Mario in his red cap bouncing and flying and jumping walls and leaping across rivers and fighting off monsters. The employee pressed the buttons, demonstrating the game for them. The music and the sound effects—every bo-yoing, every ka-ching—made it seem all the more real. The employee handed the game to Baldspot, and the little guy sat right down on the floor, propped the game against his knees, and started pressing away at the buttons. His signature giggle soon had other customers in the shop glancing his way and laughing, too.
‘It runs on batteries,’ the employee explained. ‘So you can play with it anywhere you go. Are you thinking of buying this for your brother? It’s a little expensive.’
Bugeye kept his poker face, but he’d fallen for the game just as hard as Baldspot had. With the two of them taking turns, they could while away a whole day in an instant.
‘I’ll take one.’
‘Of course. You boys are in luck. We’re the only store that sells it.’
When Bugeye went up to the register, took out his cash, and started to count out the bills, the employee’s eyes widened.
‘Well, look at you, a regular tycoon! Did your mother give you all that money?’
‘I withdrew it from my savings,’ Bugeye said without looking up.
The employee handed him the receipt.
‘Hold onto this. If you have any problems with it, you can bring it back for a repair or an exchange. Are you looking for anything else? Perhaps War of the Worlds? That might be up your alley …’
Bugeye declined, and took the shopping bag with the new game inside. When he went back, Baldspot was still absorbed in the demo game.
‘I bought us a new one.’
Baldspot put the game back on the shelf, ran after Bugeye, and snatched the shopping bag from his hands.
‘I’ll carry it.’
They headed back to the escalator. Each time they alighted on a lower floor, there were so many items on display, so much overwhelming variety, that they couldn’t keep track of what they’d seen and what they hadn’t yet seen. Bugeye stopped at a display of wool hats, gloves, and scarves. He’d been thinking about buying a pair of gloves and a scarf for his mother. As he browsed, he noticed a girl walking down one of the aisles in the store across the way. She looked the same as when he’d seen her on the overpass. The ends of her bobbed hair just brushed the tops of her shoulders, and she wore a chestnut-coloured coat and black socks.
Bugeye walked towards her in a trance. But when he turned the corner, she’d disappeared without a trace. Bugeye walked up and down the aisles looking for her before spotting her on an escalator heading up. He ran over to the escalator, but she had her back to him and was nearly to the top. Without a second thought, he ran up the escalator two steps at a time. When he got to the top, he saw her standing
in a stationery store looking at something. He walked right over to her without pausing to catch his breath. But before he could approach her, he stopped dead. He couldn’t remember what he was planning to say or do; his mind had gone completely blank. He couldn’t say something stupid like, Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere, imagine running into each other like this, it’s good to see you. And he couldn’t act like the older boys from his old neighbourhood and say, Hey girl, can I get your number? What did he think would happen when he came running after her like this? The female employee who’d been in the middle of explaining something to the girl stared at Bugeye. The girl glanced ever so slightly over her shoulder at him and turned back to the employee. Her face wasn’t the one he had expected after all. She was just one of the countless unknown schoolgirls Bugeye could have passed on the street anywhere; the lustre that he thought he’d spotted from a distance wasn’t actually there. Bugeye heaved a sigh of simultaneous disappointment and relief, and kept walking. He took a quick spin through the store and then headed back downstairs. How lucky for him that it wasn’t the same girl. He sensed all too vividly how miserable he would’ve been if it had been her.
Too late, Bugeye realised that Baldspot was not by his side. He ran all around the floor in a panic, searching for Baldspot’s sky-blue cap, but he could not find him. During his brief moment of distraction, Baldspot must have unknowingly kept going downstairs on his own, and was probably right at that moment searching for Bugeye. The thought filled Bugeye with worry. He took the elevator down another floor, searching the crowd as he went, and walked around every shop on that floor, but Baldspot was gone. He went all the way to the lowest floor, which was the most crowded of them all, walked around in a circle, and then headed back upstairs. He told himself that Baldspot had definitely been with him on the floor where gloves were sold, so he must not have looked hard enough.
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