Eunyong rolls on her side on the floor to get to the kitchen. I hear the clink-clank sound of her going through the drawer and see her emerge with the envelope of money and a picture. It’s the picture of Jimin and me. We took a picture in front of the flower tree in the university garden. We are holding hands, smiling awkwardly.

“I swear I’ve seen her before.” Eunyong scratches her crotch, sniffs her fingers, and tilts her head.

“No way. Don’t touch that picture with your dirty hands.” I try to get up to take the picture away from her and almost fall over.

“Hold on a sec.” She holds the picture away from me, just out of reach. “I’m good with faces. I remember every single person who’s ever walked into this café. I’ve impressed several customers with that skill, you know. I’ve definitely seen her before. Not at the café though … Yeah! I remember now. I was on my way to the café, and I saw her screaming at Sungyun at the top of her lungs in the back alley. He kicked her down and I intervened. Who is this woman? Why are you so protective of this photo? She isn’t the one who killed herself, is she?”

Face-Off

Face-Off

Lately, Sungyun is MIA, not even his shadow can be found. It’s been a week, and I’ve been searching for him. The café, the alleys, the billiard parlor. I knocked on the door of his place several times a day, but not even a peep. Neither Eunyong nor the café’s owner has seen him recently. I don’t think Eunyong would’ve warned him that I am looking for him like a bloodhound. The more he avoids me, the more my suspicion that he has something to do with Jimin’s death grows. Eunyong said she saw them fighting in the back alley after the presidential election. She said it was around the time the Christmas carols started playing in the streets, when the bakery had a promotion on their cheapest cakes. Jimin died around then. Sungyun didn’t tell me that Jimin visited the café to see me, nor that he offered her a drink when she was getting up to leave. While I was wasting away with sadness, Eunyong and the café owner had harassed me with the questions about Jimin—about her appearance, personality, suspected reasons behind her suicide, her family history—but Sungyun, unlike his usual nosy self, stayed out of it. I can’t focus on anything—my hair is bristling—until I track him down with my sharp nose. I can’t stop until I grab him and break his neck.