IOB Ch 5

I was a baby who rarely cried.

My mother said that even at the moment I was born, instead of a robust cry, I only let out a faint whimper, so she thought I had died in her womb. She said it felt strange when she first held the healthy, four-limbed newborn in her arms. As if a life had been mistakenly given to a child who was fated never to have been born. A child who was somehow creepy, like a fraudulent life-form.

I understand my mother’s feelings. A single mother who had received an unwanted newborn could not have been simply happy. I also understand her motive for telling me this later on. My mother must have hated me. Since I hated my mother too, I have no particular regrets about that fact.

Even as a suckling infant, I rarely fussed. I had almost no trouble falling asleep, and when I was hungry, a small, whining whimper was all I did, she said.

A strange child. My mother was ignorant about child-rearing, but she instinctively realized that I was different from ordinary children. She said her heart sank several times, wondering if I had a developmental disability.

However, my response to being called was normal, and I had no stereotyped behaviors. Moreover, I actually started talking a little earlier than other children. When spoken to, I answered readily. I just never made requests first. Though this in itself was not a childlike behavior.

My mother did not take me to the hospital. If I really did have a disability, if she received a definitive diagnosis and could no longer pretend not to know. It was better to live with suspicion, even if it felt unsettling, than to dispel the doubt and fill that space with despair.

Seonrim-ah, you’re just a quiet kid, right?

Staring at your mother with those eyes doesn’t mean anything, right? Smile a little. Stop being so creepy.

Why don’t I feel like you’re my child? I just feel that way. It still doesn’t feel real that I gave birth to you.

Seonrim-ah, do you feel like your mother is a mother?

When I heard this question, I was probably seven years old. The memory of when it was is vague, but what I answered remains clearly in my mind.

I’m not sure.

I also vividly remember my mother’s face, which contorted as soon as she heard my answer. Disgusting……. Even her small, whispering voice.

Was I unloved by my mother because I was a strange child, or did I become a strange child because I was not loved by my mother? My mother always insisted on the former, but I think it is a matter where it is difficult to clearly determine the cause and effect.

In truth, it did not matter either way. Since I had no regrets whatsoever about my childhood. If someone were to ask if I was unhappy for not being born into a harmonious family, I would shake my head.

From the first moment of my conscious memory, I found the world marvelous. It was fun, interesting, and loud. Even while my mother was worrying about her strange, non-crying baby, I was busy indulging in the world.

To me, all sounds felt like music. The sound of a water drop falling from a kitchen sink that was not turned off completely, my mother’s sneeze, the exhaust sound from a motorcycle passing by the veranda window, the sound of paper as my mother looked over various bills with a serious face. All of those things were music.

At the time, the concept of ‘music’ itself was not yet established in my head, but thinking about it after I grew up, that is what it was. I was completely engrossed in the sounds around me. I would ride the rhythm or recombine various sounds in my head to create my own musical score.

My world was always boisterous and splendid, so I could not understand the reason why I needed to add my own voice to it. That was why I was a man of few words.

Even when I did not exchange a single word with the kids my age at the playground my mother forced me to go to, I was never bored. Outside the house, there was an even greater variety of music. The sound of a child’s clothes rubbing against the surface with a zziiiik as he came down the slide, the creaking of an old seesaw, the voices of various people in various octaves.

I was too busy counting and savoring the auditory information pouring into my head. Then, at the age of eight, I went to a piano academy for the first time.

The piano academy was on the second floor of a building within the apartment complex. A female teacher in her 50s taught the children by herself. There were three small piano practice rooms, and a grand piano in the central living room area. The walls inside the practice rooms and the pianos were filled with doodles drawn by the kids.

And so, I began to learn the piano.

Teacher, the sound of the keys here is mushy and strange.

I remember how the teacher’s gaze changed at my words on the second day at the academy, when I saw the poorly tuned piano.

It was around this time that I realized other children did not hear the world the way I did. I could not understand it. Such a world seemed so boring and silent. To not be able to play when there is no instrument. To not be able to create sounds in your head.

As long as my ears did not go deaf, I would always be happy. No. Even if my ears went deaf, I have the sounds I have heard for over twenty years, so I could just play by recombining them.

Therefore, I had nothing to be desired. It was perfect as it was.

To me, who thought this way, a man appeared.

“I understand it’s burdensome. But from what I’ve seen, Mr. Seonrim, you were born for the stage.”

“Is that so……”

“Why don’t you at least hear the conditions first. From the looks of it, you seem to be living in a semi-basement. First, I’ll move you to a new place.”

“I like it here.”

“I’ll put a grand piano in the new house, too.”

“I don’t…… need a piano.”

The man was beautiful. To be precise, the sound he made was.

It was a voice that seemed to have been polished for clear speech, and there was a sense of rhythm to his words. His breath was even, and his perfect gait created a balanced sound of footsteps. Even his name is interesting. When rolled around in the mouth several times, it makes a sound like the wind brushing against leaves.

At some point, the man became extremely agitated and said, his breath ragged.

“I need your music.”

So this is his real voice. A voice pulled up from the most private place. This too is beautiful. I want to hear more of it.

What would his crying sound like? When he bursts into laughter so much that he cannot compose his breathing? Just like when I ran into him at the lounge bar last time, what kind of voice would he make with such an intense face?

There are countless people in this world, but his sound alone stimulated my curiosity. I do not know the reason why. My life has always been far from logic.

I accepted the man’s offer purely out of curiosity. Thinking that when we next meet, I would like him to cry. ……What if he does not cry? Can I make him cry? How? It is not like I can just poke him in the eyes out of the blue. I will have to think about it for a week.

۶ৎ

One week later.

“The wish, can we postpone it to next week?”

It was an unexpected windfall. I am truly lucky.

I had entered his house today thinking that I had to hear him cry no matter what. But my plan, which I had established in my own way, became pointless as what I wanted easily rolled into my lap.

He suddenly suggested an arm wrestling match. That he would grant a wish if I won the arm wrestling match. It meant a chance to make him move as I pleased, without having to use my brain.

At first, I had intended to ask him to cry in front of me as my wish. But my thoughts changed as I clasped his hand and competed with our strength.

“Ugh, sh……”

He struggled to push my arm over, his face turning bright red, and then he let out a moan. I just listened to it quietly. I felt a sense of satiety.

This is enough for today. The crying sound, next time. As they say, you get sick if you are greedy with anything. Food digests better when eaten slowly. I have learned to be patient for a long time.

He was one of the most interesting beings in the world, so I wanted to pick him apart slowly and in detail. My goal is to collect every sound he makes. Fortunately, he seemed interested in me, and thanks to that, it seemed our relationship would also last for quite a while.

He is curious about me.

“The thing about you never having professionally learned piano, that’s a lie, isn’t it?”

He speculates about me, analyzes me, and tries to understand me.

There had been many people who approached me before. But the interest he expressed was of a different grain from that of others. He seemed more interested in my music than in me as a person.

When we have everyday conversations, he puts on a very professional face. A moderately artificial expression that conceals boredom well. But the moment the topic shifts to my music, his face transforms into that of a boy. He cannot control his fine muscles as he pleases, making his cheekbones twitch, and sometimes his eyebrows squirm. The persistent gaze he shoots at me is also quite interesting.

When I face him like that, my penis would strangely grow heavy. It was proof that I was sexually aroused, but I thought I still did not quite understand why.

Until I heard these words.

“I went to listen to a competition a friend was participating in and saw you there, Mr. Seonrim.”

A competition. As soon as I heard that word, someone’s face overlapped with his.

Ah, so he’s ‘Seon-i’.

I finally know his name. Choi Yisak. So it was Choi Yisak. The name Yisak becomes a little more likable. I guess ‘Seon-i’ was just a nickname, not his real name.

I have an excellent memory. Especially when it comes to things I am interested in. I clearly recalled the time I first met the younger him. He was very small compared to now.

Aah, so that is why. I was curious about him from the very beginning.

It seems he does not remember. It does not matter.

I had never heard a story about curiosity turning into interest, and interest turning into arousal, but it seemed my system of arousal worked in that way.

The reason is never very important. One must look at the phenomenon. So I checked my current state one by one in my head.

I feel sexually aroused by him. Fact.

I feel an appetite when I see him. I have never been interested in cannibalism, but suddenly? This one is a bit ambiguous. For now, what I presumed to be appetite is because my mouth often waters when I face him.

I want to make him cry. Fact.

I want to chew on him. I checked this one because my gaze is constantly stolen by his skin. I am intensely curious about what it would feel like to bite him.

I want to let him hear my music. Fact.

I am curious about him. Fact.

I want to attract his attention. Fact. How to do that? All I had to do was casually toss out the topic of music.

“I have a song I’ve been working on lately. I was feeling uneasy because I didn’t like the ending. I think hearing Director Lee’s moan will solve it.”

It was not a lie. I was truly certain that he would be helpful to my music. Although I did not have to use the method of fiddling with his penis. He seemed to be feeling good too, so I think it was a good thing for both of us.

“I’m touching it, but it’s still the same here, huh?”

Laughter kept coming out.

“Director Lee, you’re really the best.”

I was surprised by my own natural laughter.

So this was its tone and tremor. It was the first time I had heard it. Because I had never laughed out loud unexpectedly before.

When I am with him, I keep discovering new sounds. New desires, too. It is surprising. For the first time, I even had the thought that I wanted to taste another man’s semen.

Until now, I had not felt anything in particular even when watching others have sex. Of course, it was fascinating at first, but after observing it a few times, it was all the same and predictable, so I lost interest.

But he would be different. I cannot even imagine how many different sounds he would make during sex. He is special. Because he is probably the only person alive today who understands my world. To meet him as soon as I returned to Korea. As expected, I am lucky, and the world is full of marvels.

Choi Yisak. I finished the performance while mulling over his name.

As soon as I finished playing, he bolted out of the room with a flushed face and hid in the bathroom. Sniff, sniff. I followed him, my nose buried in the palm that had received his semen. I had sweated while playing, so his scent had faded. A pity.

The door to the bathroom where he had fled was firmly shut. Knock, knock. I even knocked politely, but only an irritable voice came back.

“That’s enough for today, you can go.”

“There’s still a lot of time left. By any chance, am I fired?”

No way. I was instinctively certain. The only music that could satisfy him is mine alone.

“No, that’s not it.”

Laughter naturally leaked out.

“Next time, I’ll contact you next time. Just go, please.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll put the money into your account, Mr. Seonrim……”

“I’ve already received sufficient payment. I won’t use the money even if you give it to me, so please don’t waste it for nothing.”

“……”

“And Director Lee. Today was really good.”

As soon as I leaned close to the door and whispered, a scream-like shout fell like a thunderbolt.

“I said get out! Didn’t you hear me?”

“Yes. Goodbye.”

Agh! Aaagh! His furious shouts echoed from beyond the door. As I turned my body and slowly left his house, I realized. That my mouth had become full of saliva at some point.

Ah.

I want to eat him.