Chapter Text
A few months ago, Seonghwa lived a happy life.
Some might argue living without a family in an orphanage wasn't considered happiness, but there had been warmth. Laughter. A roof over his head. There was a warm meal every day, other kids to play with, and years of hope and optimism that a friendly couple might take him in as their own.
It never happened, and Seonghwa lived at the orphanage for many years. Longer even than others since he helped take care of the other kids when one of the caretakers left her job. By now, he was already 24, well into his life.
But the inevitable happened, and he had to leave. Too old, they said. To get a proper job. So they sent him out to fend for himself without anything to his name.
For the last four months, Seonghwa had lived off the streets. With no place to call home. No money. He took odd jobs here and there, but on days like today, he had no other options. His grumbling stomach sought people, sought aid. Help was no longer in the orphanage, not in any family, since he knew of none, discarded as a newborn.
It was his best way to get a meal today. He learned enough in those past few months to survive, trusting his instincts, but he didn't know how long he could hold out in this cycle.
With nothing but his thin jacket on his back and the small backpack of supplies the orphanage gave him that had long since run empty, Seonghwa curled up against the wall of a building. It was a busy street. Crowded with many locals. Though more people passed through the more scenic streets, the shop owners there usually shooed him away from below their god-sent shop canopies since they didn't want the tourists to be put off by his presence. After all, they spent good money on their visits. Who wanted to see the misery and scum of a beautiful town?
Seonghwa knew a few spots that worked better than others. With some patience, he might make some good money today.
These last few days, he hadn't felt so good. Sick from malnutrition and winter dawning on them, he couldn't offer any music or tricks or other wonders to the people passing through. Like a sad kitten, he just looked miserable in his corner. Perhaps the sickness might garner him more pity. Or it would urge more people to move on.
Once Seonghwa placed his metal tray in front of him, he hugged his arms around his knees to preserve warmth. He didn't sleep much last night, too on edge to feel safe outside. But there were many people bustling about. Despite the noise of the city, it was easier to feel safe, even if Seonghwa didn't belong with them.
For a while, he watched and thanked the people who halted before him to give him some change. His limbs ached, and he was shivering pitifully, so he huddled into a ball, hoping to preserve some body heat.
There was always something to observe out here. The interesting fashion of people, the colourful advertisements for items nobody needed yet still somehow got sold and the way society navigated and ran like a well-oiled machine.
When Seonghwa just left the orphanage, he wondered about life and its meaning every day. About the dull repetition of every week, about hopes and dreams that turned into surviving until the next meal.
He always knew he wasn't like most people. That he might not fit into the machine of life. But when he was kicked out, he felt even stranger to humankind around him. As if he was invisible. Running without ever catching up.
A chick kicked out of its nest.
Seonghwa liked to believe he did his best, but he was just surviving. Praying to every deity he heard of to get him out of this hell. No one responded because there was no such thing as fortune and blessings. There was only working for money to keep up with the toll of life.
Though living without parents might sound depressing to some, Seonghwa was always grateful he had a place to be in the orphanage. Didn't miss a family he never had.
Here, out in the cold autumn with no one to care for him, he yearned back to being a boy again and merely worrying about the bedtime rules all day. When to put their shared toys back in the box. Getting adopted.
The jangle of metal on metal stirred Seonghwa from his feverish thoughts. He lifted his head to look up at the shadow in front of him. A woman with a dog under her arm. Pity on her brow, that stricken expression of so desperately wanting to help and wishing better for him but being unable to do more.
Seonghwa moved parched lips to thank her, but barely any sound escaped him. She scurried off either way, back to her life.
His head was too heavy to hold up. Sometimes, he watched the people dash past and imagined what lives they were living. Did they return to warm homes? To the laughter of loved ones? Many of them didn't pause to throw him a glance. Seonghwa understood it was hard. That no one could care about every single person in the world.
He liked to think empathy came at no cost and he knew for many of the people rushing by him, it didn't. They knew he was there, in their peripherals. Saw others like him. But no matter how they wished to help, barely anyone could. Seonghwa felt their empathy; was grateful for it.
But he couldn't get a meal from empathy.
Seonghwa lowered his head back onto his knees. He wasn't full-on sick yet, but he might be in the morning if he had to sleep outside tonight. Dying of pneumonia might be a blessing, though. It would get him out of this hell.
The sockets of his eyes throbbed with dull pain. He closed them, praying there would be enough money today for a meal at least. Medicines were expensive, so Seonghwa wouldn't even dare think of them. Even when he had been back at the orphanage, they were a rare treat. But a somewhat healthy meal with some vegetables might already help.
The jingle of another coin. Seonghwa didn't get to smile at the man as he already continued on his path.
He hated begging. Hated the humiliation of it, the vulnerability. If he could work, he would, but no one would take him in. And how? Even the people who spent many years in prestigious schools didn't find work these days. He was a nobody. Had no qualifications to his name, neither proper experience aside from running errands and delivering newspapers under the guidance of the orphanage.
Seonghwa tried to reason with himself that a beggar wasn't any less of a human being than anyone else, but it was hard not to feel that way while he cowered on the concrete and others skipped by to relish life.
But he wasn't bitter. He had a good life for the most part and he was optimistic there would be chances for him in the future. He couldn't be fully forsaken. Some passersby once told him he was young, so there were still options for him. At least that was what he had to tell himself, so the despair didn't drive him insane.
If he made enough today, he didn't have to sit on the ground tomorrow. Then he could skip a meal and take a nice walk in the park. The thought of chirping birds and the warm sun on his skin sounded like the greatest of luxuries.
Seonghwa smiled into his knees, drowsy. He warmed himself to the thought of this happiness and dozed some more despite the uncomfortable position.
When he woke, rain pattered down on him. With a start, Seonghwa began collecting the few paper notes off his tray before they would get soaked. A cough shook his body as he picked up his tray to move further into the alley. There was no overhang here, so he should wear his hood, but he couldn't afford to hide his face. It was what roused people's pity and interest.
So he cowered against the wall of the narrow alley instead, just in view from the street but away from the wind. He huddled into a tight ball, mourning how quickly his body warmth escaped when he unfurled.
Another cough.
The rain was picking up with time. Soaked the roads until every car's windshield wipers seemed to wave at each other with how quick they were going. The people ran past with jackets and umbrellas, too eager to escape the fat, wet drops to care for a beggar.
Seonghwa should give it up for today.
Still, he found himself too exhausted to get up. He lingered, warm from his fever yet shaking from the cold weather. He wanted to sleep some more, and he might as well. If he was lucky, the rain only roused more pity in a few passersby.
He didn't know how much time passed as he sat there, half-asleep and half-awake. A few more coins clanged on his tray, but he stayed as he was, limbs too heavy to move. The cold no longer touched him as he stubbornly resisted its grasp. He floated in a limbo, a tad too cold to feel comfortable, but he had worse days out here. His stomach didn't rumble too much, but he looked forward to his meal today. He made good money.
Steps drew close. Seonghwa didn't think too much of it, caught up in his fantasies about warm pasta or a good burger. Though a soup might be better for his current health. Maybe some noodle soup? He might find a healthy place with lots of ginger in the recipe.
The steps halted before him. Seonghwa expected the jingle of coins, but perhaps it was a note since it was so silent. He looked up blearily, curious about this generous person.
At the same time, the shadow of a black umbrella fell over him and blocked out the rain. The dull noise of it on the parchment was further away now, and Seonghwa peered at the person curiously, wondering why they drew so close and lingered.
He had his fair share of odd encounters living out on the streets. Some weirdos who just asked uncomfortable questions, but also some men with sleazy grins who made Seonghwa offers to sell his body and got a bit too handsy. He even had a drug addict once who thought it kind to share his poison. And while any escape might be nice, Seonghwa couldn't afford an addiction.
He knew it was dangerous out here and that even well-dressed strangers occasionally merely looked for a cheap hookup for the night. Or his organs.
Not as if the police would come to his aid.
So Seonghwa stayed watchful and scrutinised this person before he uncurled from his defensive position.
The shadow in front of him was a man. Dressed in a black suit so fitted to his body, it had to be custom. Seonghwa stared at the velvety tie with a silver pin on it, the vest, the jacket and the coat on top of it all, without a clue how much it cost, but he was always told at the orphanage to be extra nice to the people dressed in suits since they had more money to support a family.
The man inside the fortune of fabric was not old. Older perhaps than Seonghwa, but clean shaven and with a twinkle in his dark eyes. His hair was slicked out of his forehead, leaving only a single rebellious strand to tickle his forehead. A few hairs of early grey streaked through it, like a glitter of silver.
How peculiar, Seonghwa thought, that in a world like theirs, he could be seated on the ground without anything to his name while another person had so much money he could wear it on his skin.
The man paused there, studying Seonghwa's miserable appearance and confused face. Whatever he saw there, it made him linger.
Uncomfortable since he couldn't tell what that gaze meant, Seonghwa opened his mouth to ask him what his deal was and which crooked schemes he had to offer, but a hand stretched his way first. A hand wrapped in a black leather glove. Probably worth another year of food.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet. Calm. Not overly pitying of Seonghwa, but neither cold with that arrogance some people with their big donations carried themselves with.
"Hello. Can I help you up?"