You tie me up like a spider
We're tangled up, we can't escape
"No, no, no and no!"
I winced at the sharpness in Mr. Jung's voice.
"Your foot was over the line again! You have to cover the distance from that chalk mark to that one! No less!"
"I-I'm sorry, sir. . . ." I mumbled, eyes downcast with shame and embarrassment.
"I told you, he can't do it," Hyunggu groaned.
I know.
"You'll have to modify it," Lisa said. "Or I dunno, make him do hundred squats, fifty won't cut it."
I know.
"He won't be able to do hundred, he'll collapse."
I know.
"Look at those chicken legs, you shouldn't have given him that step in the first place!"
"I know," I murmured under my breath.
"Come again?"
"I know," I said, a bit louder.
Dead silence.
I went over to the corner, picked up my bag pack, and walked out the Practice Room and the studio, face feeling hot with the exertion of holding back tears.
—
"Fuck this shit, I'm tired," Jeongyeon moaned, snapping the textbook shut. She looked up at the sky before stretching, then turned to me. We were currently seated in the garden, facing the Administration Block of the school. "You up for coated peanuts? I've got some wons on me today."
"Salted," I answered. "Salted peanuts."
She rolled her eyes. "I don't get your obsession with salted peanuts. Anyone would pick coated over salted."
"Coated are too spicy!" I said, flapping my arms for emphasis. "I don't know how you stand them."
"Your spice tolerance is just too low," she told me.
"No, yours is too high."
"Well, true that," she said, getting up on her feet, "but yours is still lower than average."
"My tolerance isn't low!" I protested.
But Jeongyeon didn't answer.
You may not care why, but I did. Her jaw was hung open, so I followed her line of sight, looked back at her, then did a double-take. Because right across the garden, in front of the Administration Block, his hands pocketed and his very stance singing out arrogance, stood the boy from that fateful night, the one who was bashing up everyone around him in the bar, the one who was ogling Jeongyeon.
My jaw hung open too.
He was staring right at us, a slight cocky smile on his lips. And when I was thinking that this was too much, he actually winked at us.
Before either of us could react, some staff member tapped him on the shoulder, made a small bow, and gestured him to follow her.
If our chins weren't touching the ground before, they were now.
He gave us a final smirk before walking away after the staff lady.
What the fuck was this? What was he, doing here?
"I told you," I mumbled, "he will hunt you down and-"
"Shut up," Jeongyeon murmured. "Don't leave me, stay close to me."
There was a sort of fear in her voice, a sort of trepidation. Jeongyeon was scared.
"I won't."
—
What was it with that guy? What was his appearance supposed to mean? It definitely meant something. A sign, an indication. But of what?
Think properly.
I forced the rusted cogs of my brain to move. There were two sides, Taeyong's clan and the one Changkyun belonged to. I didn't know which one this Combat Boy was from. If he was from Taeyong's family, then his presence meant that Taeyong was trying to remind us that he did exist, that his knife was still at our throats. Or was it something else? Was it to tell us that he'd had it enough, and he was coming for us? What if he'd sent this boy to kill us?
No, no. There were many possibilities. This was just one. I had to protect Jeongyeon, I couldn't die yet.
Other possibilities, yes. What if he was part of Changkyun's clan? Then it obviously had something to do with me, not Jeongyeon. What if it was an indication from Changkyun, that I hadn't been active enough in the Ritual, and that he'd had it enough? That I needed to go out in the streets and kill people, that I'd had enough of a break?
It could be.
If he was here to kill us, then we stood no chance to not rest in pieces. If it was a signal from Taeyong, then there wasn't much we could do except be scared out of our wits.
But if it was some sign from Changkyun, then I needed to start my- my heart clenched- my killing bout. I had to make it, for Jeongyeon's sake. I had to protect her. Her scared face from today morning flashed past my eyes, and I felt a stronger need to make it to this clan. I had to. For her.
—
One, two, three, go!
And I strode and lept and hit the ground, behind the chalk mark, yet again.
A groan left my throat.
I didn't know why I was even doing this, why I even felt the need to achieve this feat. I would probably already be dead before this competition, either at the hands of Lee Taeyong, or one of the other candidates. If not, then I'd probably have already quit this job because I'd be working for the family that Changkyun was part of. And it felt kind of bad. Everyone was getting frustrated because of me, to get me to make the jump, when at the end of it all they would have to either find a replacement for me or cancel their participation altogether.
Dammit.
I raised my head from its bent position, closing my eyes, as I dropped down to my knees, all breathless and sweaty.
The room was empty around me, so I didn't expect the voice that followed my fall.
"I know why you're not able to jump," it said.
Grimacing, I opened my eyes, and directed them toward the sound, which was coming from the door of the Practice Room. I hadn't yet properly apologized to him for just up and leaving yesterday. It was disrespectful and I should be- and was- ashamed of it.
The man walked in, his steps somehow soft and gentle. He stopped in front of me and held out his hand as a support for me to get up. I hesitated to take it, though. I didn't deserve. I didn't deserve his gentleness, his generosity, I didn't deserve to be here. I was someone who killed, and someone who had justified killing, and someone who even planned to kill more. I didn't even deserve to live.
When I didn't take his hand, he just lowered himself beside me and sat on the floor, looking at me expectantly. His gaze as if compelled me to sit too, placing gentle weight on my body, so I followed his movement and rested myself on the floor with my knees bent and my forearms set on them. We remained that way, and I realised that I felt at peace, after a very long time. I was no thoughts head empty in this moment, and it felt so serene.
"I know why you're not able to jump," Mr. Jung repeated. When I didn't respond, he went on. "You're too heavy."
I looked up at him, silent but surprised. A frown furrowed my brows as I tried to comprehend. I was heavy? Skinny, chicken-legged me was heavy?
"Heavy?" I murmured, my voice coming out unwilling. I didn't even have the energy left to argue.
"Yes, heavy. You're heavy, it weighs you down," he said.
I looked back down, a kind of disappointed. He was calling me fat? Now he was teasing me too? Him?
"You're heavy," he said, raising his hand to point my temple, "from here."
I blinked in doubt. Heavy . . . from my head?
"This," he touched the tip of his index finger to the skin of my temple, "weighs you down."
I took a moment to contemplate his words, and their meaning. My head- my mind- was too heavy. It was a fact, I guess. The crew members were getting fed up with me, so there was a lot of mental pressure. That was what the problem was?
"You think too much," Mr. Jung said. "And that's because you listen too much."
I blinked again. "What do you mean?"
"You listen to things everyone says," he said. "Chicken legs, replace him, whatever the hell. Your problem is that you listen, you overthink, and then you accept. You're not supposed to accept what they say, Taehyung. You're supposed to prove them wrong."
My lips parted, and I looked down at my throbbing feet. "You think I can do it?"
He answered without hesitation. "I always have."
I stared at my legs for a long moment. "If I believe I can do it, will I be able to?"
"I'm no philosopher, so I don't know," he said straight out. "But what I do know is that if you don't believe you can do it, then you definitely won't be able to. So you need to believe. Makes sense?"
I nodded slowly. "Yeah."
"You need to learn to turn deaf, Taehyung," he spoke. "Turn deaf to what they say. It won't solve everything, but it'll make stuff a whole lot easier."
I nodded again. "I'll try. . . . I want to try," I said, looking up at him. "I want to try the jump."
He smiled softly. "Not now."
"W-why . . . ?"
"It's too late, Taehyung. Nearly closing time. I have to lock the Practice Room. Take a break now, try again tomorrow, yeah?"
My legs screamed at me for mercy. "Okay."
"Go home now, it's getting late," he told me.
". . . Okay."
—
So I went to the orphanage. For a couple of hours.
Like every Sunday night, Jeongyeon's father was off his work, so I snuck out and went to the subway alone. For some reason, I went to Onsu-dong again. Maybe because I wanted to get over with this thing as soon as possible, and Onsu-dong was where all the action had taken place so far.
The picture of that boy- my target- was in my pocket again. My anxiety levels were back up after all these days. All the alertness, vigilance, apprehension was back, and it did not feel good. Especially since now I knew that there was perhaps someone actually after my life, moving freely out there. And here I was, roaming in the alleys of Onsu-dong like fish in a barrel. I must be the easiest target out there, really.
I wondered where Changkyun was watching me from right now. He was definitely somewhere around, like always. I just hoped he wouldn't feel the need to give any more signs, like today morning. If that guy was sent by him, I mean.
It was more than just one of your typical midnight depressing walks in your typical deserted narrow alleys, but that's exactly what it felt and maybe even looked like. If I bumped into the candidate who I was assigned to as target, or even some random thugs- the alleys of Seoul are not as safe as high class citizens assume they are- I would most probably die. Though that didn't seem like a bad idea, I still had to stay alive, for Jeongyeon. I had a goal, a purpose, and I needed to fulfill it. If it weren't for it, I would've had no problem dying. I wouldn't be doing any of this then.
Though I had accepted my fate as a killer, it still didn't feel complete, somehow. How could I be okay with ending people? I couldn't. But if it was for a reason, would it make killing easier? I didn't think so. I didn't think I was physically capable of killing anyway, last time was an accident. What if I died? Then Jeongyeon would probably die, too. The thought horrified me. I couldn't let that happen. I had to make it through, for which I had to kill, even if I didn't want to.
I was officially doomed.
Dang it, I had been officially doomed since a while now.
A sigh dripped from my lips. I shoved my hands into my pockets to shield them from the cold. Snow hadn't settled yet, but it soon would. Which would make the ground slippery and hard to run on.
I heaved another sigh.
I didn't know what I was looking for, frankly. The boy who was my target? Maybe. Would I kill him? I didn't know, but the idea itself tightened its merciless fingers around my heart and squeezed it in a way that made the guilt feel so damn tormenting. I hated myself, and I felt so helpless that it was outrageous. But I couldn't even do anything about it, which just made me feel more helpless, and made it a vicious circle.
It had been almost an hour of me wandering around the streets and alleys of Onsu-dong and trying to navigate back to that boy's house when I realised, I had reached somewhere familiar. I mean, most alleys were familiar by now, but this one place was a bit too familiar.
Of course it would be. I'd reached back where that poor guy had died at my hands.
My hands tensed into fists inside my pockets as the realisation dawned. I felt nauseous again, as that horrendous sight of that pencil, which I'd burnt along with my sweatshirt and jacket, returned to my mind. It was sick, so, so sick. And I was a sicko. A sicko who stabbed a person in the eye with a pencil.
Self-loathing filled me from the core.
I killed.
I killed.
Killed.
I-
Suddenly, I sensed a presence. I looked up instantly, and jumped in surprise when I saw someone standing a mere five or so metres away from me. They were just standing there in the shadows, like a predator gazing at its prey from afar.
Predator . . . ?
And then I knew. I stumbled back a few steps as the person took three long strides toward me, before breaking into a run. And then I knew for sure, so I whirled and shot through the alley, as fast as I could.
My heartbeat hiked up at an impossibly rapid rate, but I guess that's just what happens with adrenaline. It pumped through my body, willing me to move my legs faster, as quick as the wind itself. This was the first time someone was after me specifically, so I reckoned it was the first time I was running this fast, too. I just desperately hoped that I didn't catch my foot on something and fall, because then it would be the last idiocy I ever did.
I panted as I ran for my life, taking random turns, going just anywhere my feet led me to, but I couldn't afford to stop, or even turn to look behind me. I knew that that person was still after me, it was obvious. Even if they weren't, I couldn't take chances. So on I went. My legs had already been hurting with all the exercises and jumping Mr. Jung had made me do, but now, they were burning with pain. But that just made me go faster, because it was a do or die situation.
The thought that I may collapse if I used up all my stamina or even my pain endurance- because my feet did hurt like hell- struck my brain. How long could I run for? And with that, another obvious thing hit my mind- I couldn't run forever, could I? This person was after me, and me only. If that was the case, then confrontation was inevitable.
My heart sank. It really was inevitable. I was just wasting my energy, racing through the alleyways like that. It was useless. I had to stop now. I had to stop, and confront, and fight, and actually kill.
It was time.
It was time to lose myself.
I decided to turn one last corner before finally pivoting about and standing my ground. Coincidentally, I ran into a dead end at that very turn. Surrounded by walls on three sides and my predator on the one remaining, I spun about swiftly, facing them.
And that's when I saw the pocket knife, and nearly pissed my pants, no joke.
No, I couldn't do it. I couldn't confront someone with a blade without it ending up inside me, so I had to escape. That's the first thing that came to my mind.
But how could I? There were walls everywhere- no, wait. There was an out, a fire escape that ultimately led to the roof of the building on my right. Without thinking, I charged for the escape staircase and started climbing as fast as I could. The sound of my soles against the metal of the stairs was loud in the silence of the night, and even though I wasn't looking down at the stairs I'd already climbed, I could hear a pair of feet other than mine against the steps of the staircase. My pursuer was still after me.
Up the fire escape I went, stumbling a couple of times because of the hassle of climbing, but somehow managing to maintain the gap between me and the other one. When I reached the roof, another obvious thing hit me- where would I go after this?
Fuck, I'd just had myself cornered.
I was going to die at this rate. I looked down, and saw that the candidate was still two levels down. I must be faster than them, but it still didn't buy me enough time to think properly, and the downright panic I was feeling didn't let me do it logically, either. So I decided to do the only doable thing that I could come up with- jumping to the next building.
The structure I was standing on was tall, and I was sure to die if I fell. But there was no other option, at least none I could think of, so I went for it. The distance between the edges of the buildings wasn't much, but it was still a large one to cover with a jump. It was definitely more than the distance Mr. Jung had been making me leap over, so I didn't think the odds were in favour of me making it. But I had no other choice, did I? It was my only chance. I could either get stabbed and die, jump and die, or jump and save myself. Jumping sounded better.
I exhaled, trying to get my heartbeat to slow down to a normal, calm pace.
Don't think about the height, I told myself, barely managing to prevent terror from doing its trick. The tension in my body and mind didn't leave, though. But I couldn't take so much time to just prepare for the leap, so forcing all thoughts out of my head, I strode toward the opposite periphery of the structure, gaining momentum, before using the last step as a spring to bound over the distance and reach the next building, heartbeat skyrocketing during the airtime.
For a tiny moment, I thought that I was going to plummet down to my death. I closed my eyes tightly in that moment, waiting to hit the ground and feel the immense but short-lived pain before finally dying. But then, I found myself on my hands and knees, alive, and when I opened my eyes, I was on the next roof.
I made it? I actually made it?
Looking behind, I saw that my right foot was almost dangling from the verge of the roof.
Close one.
I safely crawled away from the edge, then got up on my feet before turning about. My predator- it was a girl, I realised only now- was still on the other rooftop. She had a pocket knife, so I seriously hoped that she didn't know how to throw it. It was still in her hand, and she must not be thinking of flinging it at me, because within the blink of an eye, she was charging toward me, nearing the edge, preparing to jump-
I didn't wait, I whipped around and buckled up for another leap, exhaling through my mouth, a bit more confident this time. I did it once, I could do it again, right?
But just two strides later, I stopped short, because I heard the unexpected feminine yelp from behind me.
My heart jumped to my throat at the thought of the girl falling down the building, but when I looked back, I saw a pair of hands gripping the brink of the roof from below. Immediately, I went over to the edge to help the girl up, but before I could, something made me hesitate; if I helped her, she would kill me.
"Help me!" she screeched. "Give me your hand, help me up!"
I extended my head out over the edge to look at the girl. Her face was barely visible in the dark of the night, but I could clearly see the extreme fear in her widened eyes. It almost compelled me to give her my hand, but I controlled myself and kept both of them to myself.
"N-no," I said loud enough for her to hear. "You'll kill me!"
"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" she shrieked. "I DROPPED THE KNIFE, DAMMIT! PULL ME UP!"
I found myself moving back. "No, you'll kill me. You can still use your hands, you'll kill me."
"No! NO! I WON'T KILL YOU, I SWEAR! HELP ME! HELP ME!!"
I shook my head in refusal. "No. . . ."
What kind of a human being was I? I wasn't helping a girl in need, I wasn't saving her when I could.
But she would kill me, right? She would kill me if I helped her. If you had to choose between your life and a stranger's, you would obviously choose yourself, wouldn't you? I was doing the same. Right? I wasn't doing the wrong thing, was I?
Fuck it, even if I was, what did it matter? I was about to confront this girl anyway. I had the intention to kill her, this just made my job easier, right? I was a killer anyway, this made no difference, did it?
It didn't. I decided it didn't.
So I just watched as the girl struggled, trying to clamber up to the roof, but failing miserably. She called for help numerous times, but I didn't listen. My conscience tried to tug me forward to pull the girl up, but I resisted. And when she lost her grip and fell, her scream and the sound of her body hitting the blacktop resounded in my ears, and I was pretty sure it was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
I realised I was trembling a moment before my legs gave out and I sank to my knees. I just killed. I just killed another person. I deliberately didn't save her, which means I indirectly murdered her.
I had blood on my hands.
Again.
I let out something like a choked sob from my throat. I did it again. What made it worse was that I knew that I would do it again. A monster. I was turning into one.
Maybe I already was one.
—
I gazed at the spider web.
Somehow, I'd ended up inside the Storage Room again. The door was completely closed this time, and the light was on. My time inside this room had been terrible, but at least better than the situation I was in. Maybe it was an escape to the older times, when I was little and naive and unknowing and suffering, but at least sane. Now I was questioning my own sanity. Whatever the case, this room had left me contemplating life yet again as I stared at the spider trapping its prey- a fly- in its web and eventually killing it.
So strategic, spiders were. No need to go out hunting, just wait for the right time and your prey would come walking- or flying- right into your arms to be killed and eaten.
What if I used the same strategy? No need to go out hunting for my target, just wait for the right time and my predators would come running right into my reach, to fall to their deaths.
Yes, I could jump. I could cross buildings like that, but not everyone could. I could turn my predators into my preys, I could trap and eliminate them like a spider would.
Not fish in a barrel, a spider I am. These alleys are my strings, this city my web. Come forth, my predators, and plummet down to hell.