F13

Name: Kim Yeonho. Taemyeong:¹(태명) is a temporary name that parents give to a baby before it’s born Kim Siwoo.

Siwoo’s mother had wanted to name him Siwoo. But among men of the Kim family who shared the same generational marker, there was a specific syllable that had to be used. Because of that, she couldn’t name her son Siwoo. On the official registry, his name was Kim Yeonho.

She often resented the fact that even her son’s name was something she had no power over, as if her surname being part of his name wasn’t already insufficient. At home, by mutual agreement with his father, both parents called him Kim Siwoo. But outside their hands, Siwoo became Yeonho.

His parents were busy people, and since a very young age, Siwoo had been educated by others. He had no difficulty identifying with both names, Kim Siwoo and Kim Yeonho, as himself.

He didn’t feel any particular attachment to one name over the other. They were similar. But if forced to choose, he leaned slightly toward Siwoo. Because he understood why his mother resented it so much.

Siwoo’s parents were expert trainers. Since his body had been no bigger than a puppy’s, they had begun strict training to raise a son who wouldn’t waver under emotion or react to primal impulses.

They didn’t embrace the sweet little puppy that wagged its tail and trailed after them. Thanks to that, Siwoo grew up to be a dog who didn’t wag his tail or show his belly, even to those he liked.

Desperate for parental affection, he never once cried or begged for love in front of them. The effort it took to maintain a face different from his true feelings was Siwoo’s burden alone.

Their discipline consisted of repeated cycles of harsh punishment and reward. Up until just before adulthood, Siwoo was physically punished whenever he strayed from what his parents expected. But he liked the reward that followed the punishment. It was the only time he could feel, however briefly, that he was loved.

Even today, his birthday, February 23. His father had called to say a brand-new imported car had been arranged as a gift. His father was good at this push and pull. Just when Siwoo, parched for love, began to feel despair, his father would casually toss him a reward, a form of proof saying, I’m raising you well, so that Siwoo could feel grateful.

Their rationale for raising him this way was firm. After all, the world was full of stories about warm-hearted or emotionally susceptible people who ruined their businesses.

They didn’t need to look far. Even among Siwoo’s own relatives, there were plenty who spent their money on booze, gambling, sex, drugs, and nightlife. People lost their savings over sentiment, or made destructive life choices after falling in love out of nowhere. So from the moment he was born, Siwoo had been trained to never deviate from the kind of person his parents demanded.

Siwoo, don’t cry over something this small. Don’t make a sound even if it hurts. Stay calm and rational in any situation. Don’t pretend to be kind, and follow proper procedure in everything.

Never expose your weaknesses in front of others. Don’t let pity or sympathy drag you into unnecessary meddling. Don’t fall for temptations that provoke desire. Don’t let love cost you anything. Don’t be overly kind or give away affection without purpose.

Thanks to his parents’ relentless discipline, Siwoo grew into someone who wouldn’t cry or grieve even if someone chopped off his arm. He would simply chase after the person who took it, say “Give me back my arm,” and then mechanically assign blame. Punish them, or cut off their arm in return.

Now in college, he was so adept at suppressing basic urges that he could no longer derive pleasure from most stimuli.

But for the first time in a long while, something jolted his brain.

“Joo Yeonho…”

A face like it had been pulled straight out of one of the illustrations he had revised thousands of times. But Siwoo instinctively blocked the visual stimulus entering through his eyes. He decided not to dwell on what he’d seen.

Yet he couldn’t erase the name from his mind. Yeonho, not someone else, but a name that registered as himself.

Through the rest of the event schedule, one thought alone consumed Siwoo.

“You’re so disgusting I can’t even be near you.”

Humans were, in general, revolting. Just because they’d lived as adults for a year or two longer, they shamelessly threw sexual jokes at freshmen, prepared vulgar talent show skits, and forced people to reveal details of their sex lives as punishment during drinking games. Watching them was enough to make him feel tainted. Sharing the same air was unbearable.

Concealing that disgust and blending into the crowd to participate in social activities was no easy task. Even now, standing alone outside the dorm for a smoke, humans continued to scratch at Siwoo’s mental purity.

On the bench beside him, four male students were noisily eating instant noodles. Two out of every five words they said were curses, the other three were sexual.

They were athletes well-known on campus, infamous for being involved in a group sexual harassment scandal last year. Despite uproar across the entire PE department, they dismissed everything as lies and carried on with their lives, untouched.

Siwoo wanted nothing more than to scald his body clean with hot water and be alone. But just then, a human being shamelessly plopped down beside him.

“Hello. About earlier, I’m really sorry.”

It was Yeonho, who’d hovered outside room 415 and now followed him outside, blinking shyly.

Even as their eyes met, Siwoo’s expression didn’t change, as though facing a stranger. He stared with cold indifference, then turned away. Ignored, Yeonho clenched his fist and mustered the courage to ask again.

“Can I have a cigarette too?”

Siwoo didn’t like humans, but he wasn’t in the habit of ignoring direct questions.

“If you smoke, I’ll give you one. If you don’t, I won’t.”

“Then teach me. How to smoke.”

The moment he realized Yeonho didn’t smoke, Siwoo stubbed out his own cigarette.

“There’s no benefit to it.”

And he tried to get up.

“Wait!”

Yeonho squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed the hem of Siwoo’s clothes with both hands. When he opened them again, trembling, Siwoo was staring down at him with a gaze full of contempt. Yeonho breathed heavily, torn between fear and excitement. Then came a voice, calm, even, and yet unmistakably threatening.

“Don’t touch me. It’s dirty.”

“My hands are clean. I wash them well.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Siwoo looked annoyed, then unleashed a barrage of words.

“How many filthy videos and pictures do you have on your phone? If you take shots of guys like me without hesitation, just how much sleazy crap have you done with both sexes? Aren’t you ashamed of your major? Is that what you learned photography for?”

“No, I’m not like that. I didn’t do anything bad. That was really just a mistake earlier…”

“Even just breathing the same air as someone as low and trashy as you makes me sick.”

Only ten hours into the day, Yeonho had already set a new personal record for worst thing he’d ever been told in his life. He bit his lips to keep from crying out loud, but tears spilled down anyway, defying his will.

Siwoo looked at those tears like they were pathetic. With a sneer of contempt, he used his own sleeve to press away Yeonho’s tears.

His hand acted on its own, ignoring his brain’s commands. Even as his brain realized his right hand was out of line, the hand didn’t stop, it wiped Yeonho’s wet cheeks with its fingers.

“Why are you crying?”

He genuinely wanted to know. Yeonho, crying without sobs, answered in a sorrowful voice.

“Because I feel wronged, but since I did something wrong, no matter what I say, it won’t matter. That’s what’s driving me crazy.”

“What’s so wronged about it? Do you think anything will change by explaining it to me? It’s not like we’ll see each other again. Just forget what happened today. I’ll forget too.”

Yeonho barely held back the urge to say, “You want to forget, but I want to see you again.” He swallowed the words “Even if you don’t want to, we’ll meet again…”

Just then, the PE students who’d finished their noodles lit up their cigarettes. Siwoo, who’d started smoking only three months ago, hated the smoke others exhaled, regardless of his own smoking. To shield Yeonho, a non-smoker, from secondhand smoke, he deliberately stood and blocked it with his body.

“Don’t stay here. Smoke’s bad for you.”

Sniffling, Yeonho tried to stand and follow but slumped back down weakly. He still wanted to cling to Siwoo, but he needed time to recover from the emotional blow. Wiping his tears with the back of his hand, he looked up.

“I’m fine, so go ahead and finish your cigarette. Sorry for bothering you.”

“Fine. Let’s not see each other again.”

And just like that, Siwoo left Yeonho behind in the smoking area. A person he’d never have to see again. A bad encounter. It was only natural to be the one to leave.

Yet, because of Yeonho’s sniffles, Siwoo’s steps felt unusually heavy. He walked away slower than usual.

Then a grating sound reached his ears.

“Freshman, don’t cry. Stop it.”

“Name’s Joo Yeonho? Photography major? Damn, he’s really pretty.”

He froze and turned around.

The four bulky PE students were closing in on Yeonho, striking up conversation.

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  (태명) is a temporary name that parents give to a baby before it’s born