Tea Shop Fable
Title: Tea Shop Fable
Fandom: Super Junior
Characters: Heechul, Han Geng + others
Word Count: 4000
Rating: PG
Summary: When an accident leaves him disfigured, Heechul loses everything but makes a friend.
There is a popular saying or maxim, often thrown around in speeches or conversations, that it is not until you are in the lowest depths of despair that you discover who your true friends are. A poetic sentiment, but nonetheless very true.
So it was like this, lying face up in a hospital bed, machines beeping either side of him, that Hee-chul realised he had no true friends. Since the bandages had been removed from his head, not a single person had come to visit him at the hospital; no kind souls to comfort him in his time of misery. A few cards, sure, but they were formal and distant in tone and none promised any sort of continuation of acquaintanceship. Now that Kim Hee-chul had lost his famous face it seemed that no one wanted anything to do with him.
"What a bunch of phonies and parasites!" he said to himself, thinking back to all those people he had once considered friends. Hee-chul had been a successful television personality, well respected by people of all ranks and was routinely praised for his handsome face and sharp tongue. In the past, people would have rushed to his side whenever he needed help, but now he could see they were only in it for the career benefits. Now, as far as anyone could see, Hee-chul's career was over.
Could he really blame those cowardly fair-weather friends though? Certainly, he could and he would! But even Hee-chul himself, seeing his own face for the first time since the accident, felt exactly as they did. Disgust. Repulsion. He had sustained severe burns during the accident and no amount of skin grafting could restore his once beautiful face. Not only did he no longer look like himself, he barely looked human at all - more like a monster from a children's book.
"You should be thankful that you are even alive," preached one of his self-righteous doctors. "You were virtually on the brink of death, and it was only by some miracle that you pulled through."
"You should have let me die," Hee-chul replied bitterly and at that moment he realised that his old life was well and truly over and he may well have died in that accident.
Not being one for self pity - it was a trait that he generally disliked in others - Hee-chul maintained a dignified air as he was discharged from the hospital. He collected his cards from his drawer, planning to throw them into the nearest recycling bin. As he did so, he noticed a small bunch of withering flowers. They must have been there a long time and he had not noticed them yet. Perhaps they had been brought whilst he was still unconscious. He asked the nurse on his way out.
"A young woman came to visit you before you woke up. She didn't stay long, but she left you flowers."
On arriving home Hee-chul set himself the task of piecing back as much as he could of his situation. He understood that he would no longer be welcome on television, but his radio program had been equally as popular. So perhaps he could salvage a radio career?
"We're very sorry," the producer said to him over the phone. He didn't sound sorry. "We found a replacement for you on the show. We don't have any other positions available at this point in time."
"But I was the star of your show!" Hee-chul cried indignantly. "I may have had a terrible accident, but my wits are as sharp as ever."
"I'm sorry Hee-chul, but we just don't think that you can be funny anymore. Firstly, your jokes always centered around you image as the lovable narcissist. The listeners loved the way you would bully people over their inferior looks, but you can't do that anymore. I mean, have you seen yourself? You are in no position to be calling anyone else ugly. And lastly... well, there is just something so profoundly sad about you now... it would just ruin the mood of the show."
Hee-chul hung up the phone in a huff. Ugly, he may now be, but at least he had his brains intact. Surely he would think of something to get him back on track. Hee-chul spent the next hour staring at the still light on the answering machine.
0 messages. He had never felt more lonely.
He thoughts naturally wandered back to this mysterious woman who had visited him in hospital. At the time of his accident he had no girlfriend, and with the exception of his sister, there were not many women that he was close to. After some thinking he thought that it might have been Jessica, a young associate of his. He called her.
She did not sound pleased to hear him. "What do you want?" she asked as politely as possible, still managing to sound cold. He vaguely recalled that they had not parted on the best of terms.
"I was told someone visited me when I was in a coma. They left flowers."
"Yes. It was me. Is that all you wanted to know?"
"Why?"
He could hear her sigh. "I was told you were dying. I guess I thought even you didn't deserve to die alone."
Hee-chul wanted to say more, but he paused too long and she hung up.
* * *
By chance, he saw her again three days later, sitting alone at a cafe on the main street. Whenever he went outside he donned a surgical mask and a large hat, so she did not recognise him until he spoke.
"Good to see that you are alive and well," she said, an obvious tone of coldness in her voice.
"So you only reserve kindness for those who are on the verge of death, hmm?"
Jessica continued to address him coldly. "I'm not sure what you are implying. We were never close."
"It's a shame that you hold me in such contempt. You and everyone, in fact, even my old friends at the network. To think that I have survived a terrible accident and all anyone call do is shun me in disgust."
Jessica sneered. "It must be hard to have people judging you for your ugliness"
"Yes, that's what I've been-"
"You once told me that I looked like a pig."
"I beg your pardon?" Hee-chul faltered a little.
"Oh, you don't remember? You said that I looked like a pig that had been dressed up in makeup for a freak show. You also asked me for the number of my plastic surgeon and said, 'Does he do refunds?'"
Hee-chul shifted on his feet. "Jessica, these were old comments, trivial, harmless banter..."
"Harmless banter? You said these things on national television!"
As she was speaking, a man emerged from the cafe. Hee-chul recognised him as Yesung, an old colleague of his.
"Ah Jessica," he said in an affectionate, familiar tone. "Is this cripple here hassling you?"
"How dare you call me a cripple!" Hee-chul cried as he brandished his walking stick. "It's me, Kim Hee-chul, you balloon-head dimwit."
Yesung frowned; he was a bit sensitive about his comically large head. "Ah, Hee-chul... I didn't recognise you with that face mask. Why don't you take off that mask and have another shot at calling me a balloon-head? Or are you shy about revealing your ugly face?"
Hee-chul hissed. "So it entertains you then, to persecute an injured man? You were never this bold before, Yesung."
Yesung yawned and Jessica shook her head sadly. "The thing is," she said, "you think people dislike you now because you are ugly. But as far as we're concerned, you were always ugly."
"On the inside," Yesung added, as if that wasn't already obvious. Together they stood and left, leaving Hee-chul alone to wander the streets.
* * *
This was the beginning of a dark period in the life of Kim Hee-chul. Out of work, he was very soon out of money and almost out of a home. The possibility of maintaining any dignity was already lost and so Hee-chul took to haunting the subways, wandering about like a rambling loon. At first it was fun to scare people and take them by surprise, but eventually his games grew tiresome and he was becoming more aware of his often empty stomach.
He hit an all new low the day he had to beg a hobo for a cigarette. The hobo invited him to come and stand around their trash can fire, but Hee-chul politely declined, standing back to watch them in disgust as he puffed on his cigarette in silence. This wasn't his scene at all! He remembered how he had once dismissed the poor and homeless as lazy, but this wasn't fair, he hadn't asked for any of this!
When he first started coming to the subways, Hee-chul had contemplated suicide, because stepping in front of a train would be so easy. But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed too easy. He would be gone without a trace and no one would even notice. But what is the point of suicide when no one is there to cry over you? No, he would continue his cursed unwanted existence with a vengeance!
"Take that world!" he said out loud, prompting nervous passers-by to step out of his way. "I will continue to live even if you don't want me."
* * *
Hee-chul managed to survive the first few months of his new existence relatively unhurt, but the day a gang of street urchins decided to attack him was the day his fortunes changed.
The eldest of the urchins was about twelve, but he led his gang of dirty children with all the fierceness of a general, commanding them to throw bottles at a cowering Hee-chul.
"You little rascals!" Hee-chul yelled as he brushed away the flying bottles. "Have you no respect for your elders?" Realising that his attackers were gaining on him, Hee-chul started to run as fast as his legs could manage, which, as it turned out, wasn't very fast. The accident had damaged his legs and he still needed the walking stick to stablise himself. Out of breath, he scuttled towards the front of an old and dirty tea shop. The windows of the shop were dark, suggesting it was either closed or out of business, but Hee-chul couldn't run any further, so he knocked on the window. When no answer came, he turned around to face his attackers. The gang was now standing just a metre away, perfectly still, with mouths open in silent terror. Hee-chul was perplexed by their sudden change in temper until he realised that his surgical mask had fallen off at some point during the chase, revealing his mutated face for all the world to see.
"Go on, get lost you little shits!" Hee-chul yelled and the children ran without hesitation.
"That's right, clear of you little brats!" came the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Hee-chul turned to see a tall, skinny man shaking his fist at the now empty street. He was wearing an apron and he appeared to have just come out of the tea shop.
"They're all gone," Hee-chul said when the apron man continued to shake his fist. "I scared them all away."
The apron man smiled. "Yes, it seems that you did. I'm very grateful, those kids are always causing trouble around here. It's not good for business. Please, old man, come inside and let me get you some tea."
"I'm not an old man," Hee-chul replied automatically.
The apron man faced him and he felt painfully conscious of his lack of face mask, but the man's smile did not fade. It was then that Hee-chul noticed how the eyes were blank and out of focus. This man is blind.
"Yes, you have the voice of a young man, forgive me. I heard you walking stick hit the ground and I assumed that you were old. Now please, won't you come inside?"
Hee-chul was hungry and tired, so he gladly accepted the invitation. He followed the man into the dark tea shop. At first he thought the shop was empty, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see an old man reading a newspaper in a cloud of grey smoke, and a young couple huddled together near the back of the room. The old man ignored them and the young couple looked up briefly with guilty faces, before returning their attention back to each other.
Hee-chul took a seat near the front and waited as his host wandered into the back to get some tea. He wondered whether the blind man knew that he had other customers, they were certainly very quiet. When the man returned he had cake and tea and a friendly smile on his face.
"My name is Han Geng," he said as Hee-chul devoured the cake like a wild animal. "I am the proprietor of this tea shop."
When the man spoke, Hee-chul noted the accent and could tell that he was a Chinese foreigner.
"I am Kim Hee-chul. Pleased to meet you."
Han Geng's face seemed to light up at the sound of Hee-chul's name. "Is that the same Kim Hee-chul from the radio? I thought I recognised the voice."
"Yeah," Hee-chul mumbled as he wiped cake crumbs off his chin, "that's me. But I'm not on the radio anymore."
Han Geng had now taken a seat beside Hee-chul, seemingly in the mood for a chat. "That's a shame. I enjoyed your program quite a bit - very funny! Being blind, there isn't much I can do in my free time, but I listen to the radio diligently."
Hee-chul had a vague memory of making some jokes about Chinese people on his radio show a few years back. He suddenly felt very humbled and he hoped that Han Geng had not heard those jokes, although his host appeared to be nothing but cheerful, chatting on about his favourite radio shows. He did not ask why Hee-chul had left the radio and Hee-chul didn't mention it.
"So you keep this tea shop by yourself?" Hee-chul asked when Geng had finished his speech. Geng's expression became troubled.
"I do have one staff member. Except that... well I don't. She disappeared last week."
"Oh, disappeared?"
"With all the money in the till. Something tells me she won't be coming back."
Hee-chul took another sip of the green tea Han Geng had provided, and cleared his throat, hoping to put on his best radio voice.
"I say that's a disgrace! Taking advantage of an honest, hardworking blind man. Did you contact the authorities?"
Han Geng clutched the back of his neck. "Ahh... I'm not exactly how you would say... a legal immigrant..."
"Bah, well damn those authorities!" Hee-chul's voice was raised now, almost a shout. "There is no justice for a poor, hardworking, blind immigrant. It's an outrage! An outrage, I say!"
Han Geng enjoyed this outburst. "Well, Mr. Hee-chul, I thank you for your concern and I'd say you are quite right. A pity you are not on the radio anymore - a person like you could set the whole world straight."
Han Geng continued to chat amiably with Hee-chul, telling him about personal matters even, such as the envelope he sent home to his mother every month. He confided that he was concerned that he could not support his mother for much longer since he feared the returns from the tea shop were always diminishing. He told Hee-chul how much it cost to keep the shop running, to which Hee-chul gasped.
"You are paying too much for simple supplies!" he said, "You could buy teas from the market place for half that much."
Han Geng sighed. "But I do buy my teas from the market place... I like to be able to smell them so I know which ones they are. I never really know how much I'm supposed to pay for them though..."
"Well it looks as if they saw you coming," Hee-chul said with an air of righteous cynicism. "Let me take you to the market place tomorrow and I can teach you the art of persuasive haggling."
Han Geng was pleased by the suggestion.
As they continued to chat, they spoke of other personal matters and soon discovered that they were the same age. Han Geng paused to think. "Then we are, as you say... chingu?"
"Yes!" Hee-chul cried, slamming his fist onto the table a little too enthusiastically. "Friends! Let's be friends..."
* * *
Hee-chul remained true to his word and the next day they went to the market as planned. Hee-chul began the day by donning a new face mask, making as much effort as possible to appear respectable. He had become accustomed to dressing like a hobo in recent times, but he believed he had a reason to look good: Han Geng's business depended on it.
They made their way over to the market early in the day, walking arm in arm each with his own walking stick. If any passers-by gave them a funny look, Hee-chul would brandish his walking stick menacingly, while Han Geng smiled, oblivious to any conflict.
At the market place, Hee-chul lurked behind his companion, hoping not to scare off the salesmen in the carts. This behaviour would have normally gone against Hee-chul's pride, but on this day he had committed himself fully to the mission of helping the tea shop owner. Han Geng took some time to observe each of the teas, and finally asked the salesman for a price.
"11 thousand won," the salesman told him.
"He'll take it for 5 thousand," Hee-chul piped up, taking the salesman by surprise.
"This is the price I usually charge. It is a premium blend."
"Does he look like a damn fool?"
The salesman looked nervously between the two customers. Han Geng did in fact look like a damn fool, but Hee-chul clearly wasn't, so he finally submitted.
"6 thousand. My final offer."
"Done. Now name your prices for the rest."
The salesman sighed, and eventually gave in to selling Hee-chul the tea. By the end of the day Han Geng had acquired his usual supplies for half the normal price. They were walking cheerfully home when a speeding car almost knocked Geng over, and Hee-chul had to pull him off the road.
"Bastard..." Geng muttered angrily as the car speed off down the street.
Hee-chul frowned. "Your pronunciation is slightly off. It's more like this: bastard!"
"Bastard?"
"Yes, but yell it: BASTARD!"
They took turns yelling "bastard" at the street and eventually broke into laughter. Han Geng's laughter soon turned to tears. "Hee-chul, you have been a good friend to me today," he said emotionally. "You have helped me acquire my teas and you have even helped me improve on my Korean swears. I am deeply indebted to you."
Hee-chul smiled kindly. He never thought someone could have such nice words for him. "There is something you may be able to help me with."
"Anything you ask."
"This might sound strange, but I need somewhere to live."
* * *
From that day onward Hee-chul took residence in the small attic above the tea shop. In exchange for the rent, Hee-chul became an important asset to the shop and assisted Han Geng in running the business.
He suggested to Han Geng that the front windows of the shop should be opened, to allow light into the room and appear more inviting to new customers. This was something that had never occurred to Geng, and he was grateful for the advice. Hee-chul was meticulous at keeping accounts and he made sure that nothing was ever wasted. As new customers began to come in, and tea could be acquired cheaply, the balance sheet began to look more healthy and Han Geng's worries were finally put to rest.
One thing that was peculiar to Han Geng was Hee-chul's instance on never entering the shop during business hours. Whenever customers were present he would hide in the kitchen, and conduct any business where no one would accidentally see him. At this point Hee-chul found himself caring deeply for his new friend and the shop itself, and he didn't want to risk his ugly face scaring away any customers.
Geng was polite enough to not ask any probing questions, but Hee-chul suspected that he might be curious. But he had no intention of telling him the truth; Geng's blindness had allowed him to forge a friendship with the man that probably wouldn't have been possible if Geng had known what a freak he was. He decided that it was best for the both of them if this secret remained unspoken of.
One night the two friends were relaxing in the attic when Geng suggested that they listen to the radio.
"We've been chatting so much lately that I haven't had any need for the radio, but I thought you might like to catch up on what's been happening. Perhaps we may hear one of your friends."
Friends, Hee-chul thought bitterly. They would certainly not be hearing any friends. All the same Hee-chul agreed and Han Geng took the radio out. He fiddled with the dial until it landed on the station that Hee-chul had once worked for. A cheerful voice came through the static.
"Hello and welcome to the second hour of our program... I am your host Eeteuk."
Hee-chul snorted. "So that's the bastard who stole my job."
"We will be taking your calls shortly so please don't forget the number! We have a caller on line 1, hello?"
"Hello Eeteuk, I love your show. Since the pageant has just been, I was wondering what you thought of this years Miss Korea contestants? I hear there was some controversy over the contestants obvious use of plastic surgery."
"Well, if I was the runner-up, I'd be asking if that surgeon did refunds."
Hee-chul cried out in disgust. "That's my joke! That bastard..."
"...and as for the other finalist, I'd say she looked too much like a pig dressed up for a circus act."
Hee-chul took Geng by surprise as he stood up abruptly. "Excuse me for one moment," he said, and then made his way down the stairs and straight to the telephone in the hall. He dialed the familiar number of the radio station.
"And we have another caller on line 2. Hello there!"
"Hello Eeteuk, long time no see. Good to hear my old jokes are still in rotation."
Eeteuk chuckled nervously. "Um, who is calling?"
"Kim Hee-chul. Remember me?"
Eeteuk chuckled again, this time even more awkwardly. "Ah, Hee-chul, is that really you? We... thought you were dead."
"Well you guys just about left me for dead."
Eeteuk was about to say something else, probably to cut him off, so Hee-chul spoke again, quickly, but clearly. "Before you hang up there's one thing I want to say to you and all your listeners. Ever since losing my face I realised something important... those jokes aren't funny, not when you say them and not when I said them originally. There is more to life than judging people from appearance. It may sound trite, but what matters most is what is inside. Becoming a hideous freak it what made me realise this..."
"Well it was nice hearing from you Hee-chul. And we have another caller on line 1..."
Hee-chul heard the click as the phone conversation ended and he calmly put the receiver back. Sighing, he returned upstairs to sit with Han Geng. Just as he entered, Geng turned away from the radio.
"That was you just then," Geng said cheerfully and Hee-chul winced.
"So now you know the truth. The real reason I'm not working anymore is because I am a disfigured monster. Does it disgust you too?"
Geng paused to think. He said at last: "You know something Hee-chul, when I first lost my eyesight I thought I couldn't live anymore, I thought I lost the most important thing to live. But then life continued, and in time I gained new things. I could appreciate something like the smell of fresh tea so much clearer, and the feeling of sunshine and the breeze from the sea. I think when we lose something old, we gain something new. Do you think so?"
Hee-chul sat down in his armchair and sunk into the cushion. He wasn't angry anymore. "Yeah, I think so."
Geng changed the radio station and they listened amiably.
Fandom: Super Junior
Characters: Heechul, Han Geng + others
Word Count: 4000
Rating: PG
Summary: When an accident leaves him disfigured, Heechul loses everything but makes a friend.
There is a popular saying or maxim, often thrown around in speeches or conversations, that it is not until you are in the lowest depths of despair that you discover who your true friends are. A poetic sentiment, but nonetheless very true.
So it was like this, lying face up in a hospital bed, machines beeping either side of him, that Hee-chul realised he had no true friends. Since the bandages had been removed from his head, not a single person had come to visit him at the hospital; no kind souls to comfort him in his time of misery. A few cards, sure, but they were formal and distant in tone and none promised any sort of continuation of acquaintanceship. Now that Kim Hee-chul had lost his famous face it seemed that no one wanted anything to do with him.
"What a bunch of phonies and parasites!" he said to himself, thinking back to all those people he had once considered friends. Hee-chul had been a successful television personality, well respected by people of all ranks and was routinely praised for his handsome face and sharp tongue. In the past, people would have rushed to his side whenever he needed help, but now he could see they were only in it for the career benefits. Now, as far as anyone could see, Hee-chul's career was over.
Could he really blame those cowardly fair-weather friends though? Certainly, he could and he would! But even Hee-chul himself, seeing his own face for the first time since the accident, felt exactly as they did. Disgust. Repulsion. He had sustained severe burns during the accident and no amount of skin grafting could restore his once beautiful face. Not only did he no longer look like himself, he barely looked human at all - more like a monster from a children's book.
"You should be thankful that you are even alive," preached one of his self-righteous doctors. "You were virtually on the brink of death, and it was only by some miracle that you pulled through."
"You should have let me die," Hee-chul replied bitterly and at that moment he realised that his old life was well and truly over and he may well have died in that accident.
Not being one for self pity - it was a trait that he generally disliked in others - Hee-chul maintained a dignified air as he was discharged from the hospital. He collected his cards from his drawer, planning to throw them into the nearest recycling bin. As he did so, he noticed a small bunch of withering flowers. They must have been there a long time and he had not noticed them yet. Perhaps they had been brought whilst he was still unconscious. He asked the nurse on his way out.
"A young woman came to visit you before you woke up. She didn't stay long, but she left you flowers."
On arriving home Hee-chul set himself the task of piecing back as much as he could of his situation. He understood that he would no longer be welcome on television, but his radio program had been equally as popular. So perhaps he could salvage a radio career?
"We're very sorry," the producer said to him over the phone. He didn't sound sorry. "We found a replacement for you on the show. We don't have any other positions available at this point in time."
"But I was the star of your show!" Hee-chul cried indignantly. "I may have had a terrible accident, but my wits are as sharp as ever."
"I'm sorry Hee-chul, but we just don't think that you can be funny anymore. Firstly, your jokes always centered around you image as the lovable narcissist. The listeners loved the way you would bully people over their inferior looks, but you can't do that anymore. I mean, have you seen yourself? You are in no position to be calling anyone else ugly. And lastly... well, there is just something so profoundly sad about you now... it would just ruin the mood of the show."
Hee-chul hung up the phone in a huff. Ugly, he may now be, but at least he had his brains intact. Surely he would think of something to get him back on track. Hee-chul spent the next hour staring at the still light on the answering machine.
0 messages. He had never felt more lonely.
He thoughts naturally wandered back to this mysterious woman who had visited him in hospital. At the time of his accident he had no girlfriend, and with the exception of his sister, there were not many women that he was close to. After some thinking he thought that it might have been Jessica, a young associate of his. He called her.
She did not sound pleased to hear him. "What do you want?" she asked as politely as possible, still managing to sound cold. He vaguely recalled that they had not parted on the best of terms.
"I was told someone visited me when I was in a coma. They left flowers."
"Yes. It was me. Is that all you wanted to know?"
"Why?"
He could hear her sigh. "I was told you were dying. I guess I thought even you didn't deserve to die alone."
Hee-chul wanted to say more, but he paused too long and she hung up.
* * *
By chance, he saw her again three days later, sitting alone at a cafe on the main street. Whenever he went outside he donned a surgical mask and a large hat, so she did not recognise him until he spoke.
"Good to see that you are alive and well," she said, an obvious tone of coldness in her voice.
"So you only reserve kindness for those who are on the verge of death, hmm?"
Jessica continued to address him coldly. "I'm not sure what you are implying. We were never close."
"It's a shame that you hold me in such contempt. You and everyone, in fact, even my old friends at the network. To think that I have survived a terrible accident and all anyone call do is shun me in disgust."
Jessica sneered. "It must be hard to have people judging you for your ugliness"
"Yes, that's what I've been-"
"You once told me that I looked like a pig."
"I beg your pardon?" Hee-chul faltered a little.
"Oh, you don't remember? You said that I looked like a pig that had been dressed up in makeup for a freak show. You also asked me for the number of my plastic surgeon and said, 'Does he do refunds?'"
Hee-chul shifted on his feet. "Jessica, these were old comments, trivial, harmless banter..."
"Harmless banter? You said these things on national television!"
As she was speaking, a man emerged from the cafe. Hee-chul recognised him as Yesung, an old colleague of his.
"Ah Jessica," he said in an affectionate, familiar tone. "Is this cripple here hassling you?"
"How dare you call me a cripple!" Hee-chul cried as he brandished his walking stick. "It's me, Kim Hee-chul, you balloon-head dimwit."
Yesung frowned; he was a bit sensitive about his comically large head. "Ah, Hee-chul... I didn't recognise you with that face mask. Why don't you take off that mask and have another shot at calling me a balloon-head? Or are you shy about revealing your ugly face?"
Hee-chul hissed. "So it entertains you then, to persecute an injured man? You were never this bold before, Yesung."
Yesung yawned and Jessica shook her head sadly. "The thing is," she said, "you think people dislike you now because you are ugly. But as far as we're concerned, you were always ugly."
"On the inside," Yesung added, as if that wasn't already obvious. Together they stood and left, leaving Hee-chul alone to wander the streets.
* * *
This was the beginning of a dark period in the life of Kim Hee-chul. Out of work, he was very soon out of money and almost out of a home. The possibility of maintaining any dignity was already lost and so Hee-chul took to haunting the subways, wandering about like a rambling loon. At first it was fun to scare people and take them by surprise, but eventually his games grew tiresome and he was becoming more aware of his often empty stomach.
He hit an all new low the day he had to beg a hobo for a cigarette. The hobo invited him to come and stand around their trash can fire, but Hee-chul politely declined, standing back to watch them in disgust as he puffed on his cigarette in silence. This wasn't his scene at all! He remembered how he had once dismissed the poor and homeless as lazy, but this wasn't fair, he hadn't asked for any of this!
When he first started coming to the subways, Hee-chul had contemplated suicide, because stepping in front of a train would be so easy. But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed too easy. He would be gone without a trace and no one would even notice. But what is the point of suicide when no one is there to cry over you? No, he would continue his cursed unwanted existence with a vengeance!
"Take that world!" he said out loud, prompting nervous passers-by to step out of his way. "I will continue to live even if you don't want me."
* * *
Hee-chul managed to survive the first few months of his new existence relatively unhurt, but the day a gang of street urchins decided to attack him was the day his fortunes changed.
The eldest of the urchins was about twelve, but he led his gang of dirty children with all the fierceness of a general, commanding them to throw bottles at a cowering Hee-chul.
"You little rascals!" Hee-chul yelled as he brushed away the flying bottles. "Have you no respect for your elders?" Realising that his attackers were gaining on him, Hee-chul started to run as fast as his legs could manage, which, as it turned out, wasn't very fast. The accident had damaged his legs and he still needed the walking stick to stablise himself. Out of breath, he scuttled towards the front of an old and dirty tea shop. The windows of the shop were dark, suggesting it was either closed or out of business, but Hee-chul couldn't run any further, so he knocked on the window. When no answer came, he turned around to face his attackers. The gang was now standing just a metre away, perfectly still, with mouths open in silent terror. Hee-chul was perplexed by their sudden change in temper until he realised that his surgical mask had fallen off at some point during the chase, revealing his mutated face for all the world to see.
"Go on, get lost you little shits!" Hee-chul yelled and the children ran without hesitation.
"That's right, clear of you little brats!" came the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Hee-chul turned to see a tall, skinny man shaking his fist at the now empty street. He was wearing an apron and he appeared to have just come out of the tea shop.
"They're all gone," Hee-chul said when the apron man continued to shake his fist. "I scared them all away."
The apron man smiled. "Yes, it seems that you did. I'm very grateful, those kids are always causing trouble around here. It's not good for business. Please, old man, come inside and let me get you some tea."
"I'm not an old man," Hee-chul replied automatically.
The apron man faced him and he felt painfully conscious of his lack of face mask, but the man's smile did not fade. It was then that Hee-chul noticed how the eyes were blank and out of focus. This man is blind.
"Yes, you have the voice of a young man, forgive me. I heard you walking stick hit the ground and I assumed that you were old. Now please, won't you come inside?"
Hee-chul was hungry and tired, so he gladly accepted the invitation. He followed the man into the dark tea shop. At first he thought the shop was empty, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see an old man reading a newspaper in a cloud of grey smoke, and a young couple huddled together near the back of the room. The old man ignored them and the young couple looked up briefly with guilty faces, before returning their attention back to each other.
Hee-chul took a seat near the front and waited as his host wandered into the back to get some tea. He wondered whether the blind man knew that he had other customers, they were certainly very quiet. When the man returned he had cake and tea and a friendly smile on his face.
"My name is Han Geng," he said as Hee-chul devoured the cake like a wild animal. "I am the proprietor of this tea shop."
When the man spoke, Hee-chul noted the accent and could tell that he was a Chinese foreigner.
"I am Kim Hee-chul. Pleased to meet you."
Han Geng's face seemed to light up at the sound of Hee-chul's name. "Is that the same Kim Hee-chul from the radio? I thought I recognised the voice."
"Yeah," Hee-chul mumbled as he wiped cake crumbs off his chin, "that's me. But I'm not on the radio anymore."
Han Geng had now taken a seat beside Hee-chul, seemingly in the mood for a chat. "That's a shame. I enjoyed your program quite a bit - very funny! Being blind, there isn't much I can do in my free time, but I listen to the radio diligently."
Hee-chul had a vague memory of making some jokes about Chinese people on his radio show a few years back. He suddenly felt very humbled and he hoped that Han Geng had not heard those jokes, although his host appeared to be nothing but cheerful, chatting on about his favourite radio shows. He did not ask why Hee-chul had left the radio and Hee-chul didn't mention it.
"So you keep this tea shop by yourself?" Hee-chul asked when Geng had finished his speech. Geng's expression became troubled.
"I do have one staff member. Except that... well I don't. She disappeared last week."
"Oh, disappeared?"
"With all the money in the till. Something tells me she won't be coming back."
Hee-chul took another sip of the green tea Han Geng had provided, and cleared his throat, hoping to put on his best radio voice.
"I say that's a disgrace! Taking advantage of an honest, hardworking blind man. Did you contact the authorities?"
Han Geng clutched the back of his neck. "Ahh... I'm not exactly how you would say... a legal immigrant..."
"Bah, well damn those authorities!" Hee-chul's voice was raised now, almost a shout. "There is no justice for a poor, hardworking, blind immigrant. It's an outrage! An outrage, I say!"
Han Geng enjoyed this outburst. "Well, Mr. Hee-chul, I thank you for your concern and I'd say you are quite right. A pity you are not on the radio anymore - a person like you could set the whole world straight."
Han Geng continued to chat amiably with Hee-chul, telling him about personal matters even, such as the envelope he sent home to his mother every month. He confided that he was concerned that he could not support his mother for much longer since he feared the returns from the tea shop were always diminishing. He told Hee-chul how much it cost to keep the shop running, to which Hee-chul gasped.
"You are paying too much for simple supplies!" he said, "You could buy teas from the market place for half that much."
Han Geng sighed. "But I do buy my teas from the market place... I like to be able to smell them so I know which ones they are. I never really know how much I'm supposed to pay for them though..."
"Well it looks as if they saw you coming," Hee-chul said with an air of righteous cynicism. "Let me take you to the market place tomorrow and I can teach you the art of persuasive haggling."
Han Geng was pleased by the suggestion.
As they continued to chat, they spoke of other personal matters and soon discovered that they were the same age. Han Geng paused to think. "Then we are, as you say... chingu?"
"Yes!" Hee-chul cried, slamming his fist onto the table a little too enthusiastically. "Friends! Let's be friends..."
* * *
Hee-chul remained true to his word and the next day they went to the market as planned. Hee-chul began the day by donning a new face mask, making as much effort as possible to appear respectable. He had become accustomed to dressing like a hobo in recent times, but he believed he had a reason to look good: Han Geng's business depended on it.
They made their way over to the market early in the day, walking arm in arm each with his own walking stick. If any passers-by gave them a funny look, Hee-chul would brandish his walking stick menacingly, while Han Geng smiled, oblivious to any conflict.
At the market place, Hee-chul lurked behind his companion, hoping not to scare off the salesmen in the carts. This behaviour would have normally gone against Hee-chul's pride, but on this day he had committed himself fully to the mission of helping the tea shop owner. Han Geng took some time to observe each of the teas, and finally asked the salesman for a price.
"11 thousand won," the salesman told him.
"He'll take it for 5 thousand," Hee-chul piped up, taking the salesman by surprise.
"This is the price I usually charge. It is a premium blend."
"Does he look like a damn fool?"
The salesman looked nervously between the two customers. Han Geng did in fact look like a damn fool, but Hee-chul clearly wasn't, so he finally submitted.
"6 thousand. My final offer."
"Done. Now name your prices for the rest."
The salesman sighed, and eventually gave in to selling Hee-chul the tea. By the end of the day Han Geng had acquired his usual supplies for half the normal price. They were walking cheerfully home when a speeding car almost knocked Geng over, and Hee-chul had to pull him off the road.
"Bastard..." Geng muttered angrily as the car speed off down the street.
Hee-chul frowned. "Your pronunciation is slightly off. It's more like this: bastard!"
"Bastard?"
"Yes, but yell it: BASTARD!"
They took turns yelling "bastard" at the street and eventually broke into laughter. Han Geng's laughter soon turned to tears. "Hee-chul, you have been a good friend to me today," he said emotionally. "You have helped me acquire my teas and you have even helped me improve on my Korean swears. I am deeply indebted to you."
Hee-chul smiled kindly. He never thought someone could have such nice words for him. "There is something you may be able to help me with."
"Anything you ask."
"This might sound strange, but I need somewhere to live."
* * *
From that day onward Hee-chul took residence in the small attic above the tea shop. In exchange for the rent, Hee-chul became an important asset to the shop and assisted Han Geng in running the business.
He suggested to Han Geng that the front windows of the shop should be opened, to allow light into the room and appear more inviting to new customers. This was something that had never occurred to Geng, and he was grateful for the advice. Hee-chul was meticulous at keeping accounts and he made sure that nothing was ever wasted. As new customers began to come in, and tea could be acquired cheaply, the balance sheet began to look more healthy and Han Geng's worries were finally put to rest.
One thing that was peculiar to Han Geng was Hee-chul's instance on never entering the shop during business hours. Whenever customers were present he would hide in the kitchen, and conduct any business where no one would accidentally see him. At this point Hee-chul found himself caring deeply for his new friend and the shop itself, and he didn't want to risk his ugly face scaring away any customers.
Geng was polite enough to not ask any probing questions, but Hee-chul suspected that he might be curious. But he had no intention of telling him the truth; Geng's blindness had allowed him to forge a friendship with the man that probably wouldn't have been possible if Geng had known what a freak he was. He decided that it was best for the both of them if this secret remained unspoken of.
One night the two friends were relaxing in the attic when Geng suggested that they listen to the radio.
"We've been chatting so much lately that I haven't had any need for the radio, but I thought you might like to catch up on what's been happening. Perhaps we may hear one of your friends."
Friends, Hee-chul thought bitterly. They would certainly not be hearing any friends. All the same Hee-chul agreed and Han Geng took the radio out. He fiddled with the dial until it landed on the station that Hee-chul had once worked for. A cheerful voice came through the static.
"Hello and welcome to the second hour of our program... I am your host Eeteuk."
Hee-chul snorted. "So that's the bastard who stole my job."
"We will be taking your calls shortly so please don't forget the number! We have a caller on line 1, hello?"
"Hello Eeteuk, I love your show. Since the pageant has just been, I was wondering what you thought of this years Miss Korea contestants? I hear there was some controversy over the contestants obvious use of plastic surgery."
"Well, if I was the runner-up, I'd be asking if that surgeon did refunds."
Hee-chul cried out in disgust. "That's my joke! That bastard..."
"...and as for the other finalist, I'd say she looked too much like a pig dressed up for a circus act."
Hee-chul took Geng by surprise as he stood up abruptly. "Excuse me for one moment," he said, and then made his way down the stairs and straight to the telephone in the hall. He dialed the familiar number of the radio station.
"And we have another caller on line 2. Hello there!"
"Hello Eeteuk, long time no see. Good to hear my old jokes are still in rotation."
Eeteuk chuckled nervously. "Um, who is calling?"
"Kim Hee-chul. Remember me?"
Eeteuk chuckled again, this time even more awkwardly. "Ah, Hee-chul, is that really you? We... thought you were dead."
"Well you guys just about left me for dead."
Eeteuk was about to say something else, probably to cut him off, so Hee-chul spoke again, quickly, but clearly. "Before you hang up there's one thing I want to say to you and all your listeners. Ever since losing my face I realised something important... those jokes aren't funny, not when you say them and not when I said them originally. There is more to life than judging people from appearance. It may sound trite, but what matters most is what is inside. Becoming a hideous freak it what made me realise this..."
"Well it was nice hearing from you Hee-chul. And we have another caller on line 1..."
Hee-chul heard the click as the phone conversation ended and he calmly put the receiver back. Sighing, he returned upstairs to sit with Han Geng. Just as he entered, Geng turned away from the radio.
"That was you just then," Geng said cheerfully and Hee-chul winced.
"So now you know the truth. The real reason I'm not working anymore is because I am a disfigured monster. Does it disgust you too?"
Geng paused to think. He said at last: "You know something Hee-chul, when I first lost my eyesight I thought I couldn't live anymore, I thought I lost the most important thing to live. But then life continued, and in time I gained new things. I could appreciate something like the smell of fresh tea so much clearer, and the feeling of sunshine and the breeze from the sea. I think when we lose something old, we gain something new. Do you think so?"
Hee-chul sat down in his armchair and sunk into the cushion. He wasn't angry anymore. "Yeah, I think so."
Geng changed the radio station and they listened amiably.