Chapter 141
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I heard singing. It was a choir.
There was a huge church near the café we were in. Thanks to the steeple and cluster of windows along the exterior walls, under the sunlight, the building glittered like a well-made crystal ornament. It was almost noon on a Sunday. The morning service must have finished because the faint sound of hymns floated from the building. The collection of several voices was beautiful.
I put down my sandwich and looked at the church. I wasn’t the only one. A few people, who were also having brunch on the outdoor tables, looked in that direction. “He” was planning a trip and had maps and brochures on the table. When he realized that I was listening to the singing, he grinned wryly. He took a sip of coffee and mumbled, “It’s the Hymn of Love.”
It was as he said. He hummed along to the tune of the song. “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.”
I stared at him, and he laughed. “It’s a song I like.”
His answer implied that I found it weird that an evil spirit liked hymns. I shook my head. He continued singing as he flipped through the pages. “If I have the gift of prophecy, but do not have love, I am nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes.”
Without love, there was nothing. Ironically, the lyrics suited him.
His singing was louder than the faint voices of the choir, so the few people who were looking at the church turned to him. The favorable gazes of people reminded me of Yeonseon when he sang on stage.
I couldn’t believe he only wanted to sing well. In exchange for one’s life, wasn’t this a shabby gift? Still, he looked plenty delighted.
“I like singing,” he said.
“I know,” I replied, and he looked up at me.
“Part of it is because I wanted to become a singer…” he said. Then, he added a reason he had never told me before, “But it’s also because you gave it to me.”
“…”
“When I sing, I feel like you’re with me, so I like it. It feels like I’m kissing you. Every inhalation and exhalation, every word, singing of love—the air feels like you.” Perhaps because the entire truth was revealed, he was more honest than before. Without reservation, he said the words that he bottled up because I didn’t remember. If he muttered them in elation like a madman, I would have frowned and protested, but he was always calm and composed. His low voice came to me steadily and hit me straight under my ribs.
“Is there anywhere you’d like to go? Aside from Hong Kong,” he asked, bringing back the conversation to traveling.
“Not really,” I replied.
“I think a few days at a quiet place with scenic views of nature will help in getting your thoughts together,” he said.
I clammed up then. Because I fell silent, he looked at me again and smiled. His black eyes folded into pretty crescents. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? About our relationship.”
“…”
“Thank goodness. I was worried that you would keep trying to avoid it. You wouldn’t eat or sleep properly. Your health kept deteriorating, so I thought long and hard about what I should do. I felt miserable because I couldn’t help you at all, even though I was right next to you.”
‘Because it’s your body,’ I thought to myself and resumed eating my sandwich.
Time gave me no answer. However, it allowed me to endure until I came up with a solution. After some time had passed, the emotions that ran wildly within me lost their energy and subsided. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a thin, emaciated man. I was seized with fear. What if I died at that rate? I heard the answer a long time ago. I remembered the day; he started with a gentle face, “If you don’t like your body…”
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I heard singing. It was a choir.
There was a huge church near the café we were in. Thanks to the steeple and cluster of windows along the exterior walls, under the sunlight, the building glittered like a well-made crystal ornament. It was almost noon on a Sunday. The morning service must have finished because the faint sound of hymns floated from the building. The collection of several voices was beautiful.
I put down my sandwich and looked at the church. I wasn’t the only one. A few people, who were also having brunch on the outdoor tables, looked in that direction. “He” was planning a trip and had maps and brochures on the table. When he realized that I was listening to the singing, he grinned wryly. He took a sip of coffee and mumbled, “It’s the Hymn of Love.”
It was as he said. He hummed along to the tune of the song. “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.”
I stared at him, and he laughed. “It’s a song I like.”
His answer implied that I found it weird that an evil spirit liked hymns. I shook my head. He continued singing as he flipped through the pages. “If I have the gift of prophecy, but do not have love, I am nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes.”
Without love, there was nothing. Ironically, the lyrics suited him.
His singing was louder than the faint voices of the choir, so the few people who were looking at the church turned to him. The favorable gazes of people reminded me of Yeonseon when he sang on stage.
I couldn’t believe he only wanted to sing well. In exchange for one’s life, wasn’t this a shabby gift? Still, he looked plenty delighted.
“I like singing,” he said.
“I know,” I replied, and he looked up at me.
“Part of it is because I wanted to become a singer…” he said. Then, he added a reason he had never told me before, “But it’s also because you gave it to me.”
“…”
“When I sing, I feel like you’re with me, so I like it. It feels like I’m kissing you. Every inhalation and exhalation, every word, singing of love—the air feels like you.” Perhaps because the entire truth was revealed, he was more honest than before. Without reservation, he said the words that he bottled up because I didn’t remember. If he muttered them in elation like a madman, I would have frowned and protested, but he was always calm and composed. His low voice came to me steadily and hit me straight under my ribs.
“Is there anywhere you’d like to go? Aside from Hong Kong,” he asked, bringing back the conversation to traveling.
“Not really,” I replied.
“I think a few days at a quiet place with scenic views of nature will help in getting your thoughts together,” he said.
I clammed up then. Because I fell silent, he looked at me again and smiled. His black eyes folded into pretty crescents. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? About our relationship.”
“…”
“Thank goodness. I was worried that you would keep trying to avoid it. You wouldn’t eat or sleep properly. Your health kept deteriorating, so I thought long and hard about what I should do. I felt miserable because I couldn’t help you at all, even though I was right next to you.”
‘Because it’s your body,’ I thought to myself and resumed eating my sandwich.
Time gave me no answer. However, it allowed me to endure until I came up with a solution. After some time had passed, the emotions that ran wildly within me lost their energy and subsided. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a thin, emaciated man. I was seized with fear. What if I died at that rate? I heard the answer a long time ago. I remembered the day; he started with a gentle face, “If you don’t like your body…”
I heard singing. It was a choir.There was a huge church near the caf we were in. Thanks to the steeple and cluster of windows along the exterior walls, under the sunlight, the building glittered like a well-made crystal ornament. It was almost noon on a Sunday. The morning service must have finished because the faint sound of hymns floated from the building. The collection of several voices was beautiful.I put down my sandwich and looked at the church. I wasn't the only one. A few people, who were also having brunch on the outdoor tables, looked in that direction. He was planning a trip and had maps and brochures on the table. When he realized that I was listening to the singing, he grinned wryly. He took a sip of coffee and mumbled, It's the Hymn of Love.It was as he said. He hummed along to the tune of the song. If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.I stared at him, and he laughed. It's a song I like.His answer implied that I found it weird that an evil spirit liked hymns. I shook my head. He continued singing as he flipped through the pages. If I have the gift of prophecy, but do not have love, I am nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes.Without love, there was nothing. Ironically, the lyrics suited him.His singing was louder than the faint voices of the choir, so the few people who were looking at the church turned to him. The favorable gazes of people reminded me of Yeonseon when he sang on stage.I couldn't believe he only wanted to sing well. In exchange for one's life, wasn't this a shabby gift? Still, he looked plenty delighted.I like singing, he said.I know, I replied, and he looked up at me.Part of it is because I wanted to become a singer he said. Then, he added a reason he had never told me before, But it's also because you gave it to me.When I sing, I feel like you're with me, so I like it. It feels like I'm kissing you. Every inhalation and exhalation, every word, singing of lovethe air feels like you. Perhaps because the entire truth was revealed, he was more honest than before. Without reservation, he said the words that he bottled up because I didn't remember. If he muttered them in elation like a madman, I would have frowned and protested, but he was always calm and composed. His low voice came to me steadily and hit me straight under my ribs.Is there anywhere you'd like to go? Aside from Hong Kong, he asked, bringing back the conversation to traveling.Not really, I replied.I think a few days at a quiet place with scenic views of nature will help in getting your thoughts together, he said.I clammed up then. Because I fell silent, he looked at me again and smiled. His black eyes folded into pretty crescents. You're thinking about it, aren't you? About our relationship.Thank goodness. I was worried that you would keep trying to avoid it. You wouldn't eat or sleep properly. Your health kept deteriorating, so I thought long and hard about what I should do. I felt miserable because I couldn't help you at all, even though I was right next to you.Because it's your body,'I thought to myself and resumed eating my sandwich.Time gave me no answer. However, it allowed me to endure until I came up with a solution. After some time had passed, the emotions that ran wildly within me lost their energy and subsided. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a thin, emaciated man. I was seized with fear. What if I died at that rate? I heard the answer a long time ago. I remembered the day; he started with a gentle face, If you don't like your body
