Chapter 10

He wasn’t the lead story. Another rakishly thin actress’s suicide had taken that spot. But it didn’t matter. He was the more interesting story, and now he could see his work as they saw it. As she saw it. She would have seen both of them.

There was no chance she’d missed the first act as the rest of the city had. That was why he’d chosen it for his opening act. It had become more of a prologue now, but that didn’t matter either. The gallery was definitely his curtain raiser, and now the whole city saw him.

He had to admit, he was pleased. More, even, than the sound the hammer made when it struck the black marble that first night.

He wondered if he would ever see his first work under the light of day. He had wanted the world to look at it and understand what it was: retaliation for the open scar she had left him.

It was a tired cliché that the perpetrator always returned to the scene of the crime. He placed no value in such stereotypes, yet he still wanted to see his work. It didn't have to be in person. A photograph would be enough. If he could see it, then he knew she would see it too.

The people hunting him would expect him to be stupid enough to come back. He almost pitied them for their predictability. With a kind of resigned sadness, he accepted that he would never walk through Yeoido again. There would be no pilgrimage, no self-congratulation.

This was not a time for mourning. It was a time to enjoy what he had done.

On the television, his work played out again. They were broadcasting his work in glorious high definition. The beauty of rolling news was that every few minutes it rewarded him again, his performance reappeared, uninterrupted, perfectly framed. He smiled. She had to be watching.

Next, the newspapers. He wanted to see it on paper, black ink would give it permanence. He would have made the front pages, surely! Unless that wretched actress had stolen more of his light.

Boy 2: “Oh, look at that — it’s eight-seven. Shit, this is close.”
Boy 1: “Are they here?”
Boy 2: “The girls? Yeah. Red’s over there with Blue. Some other chick with them.”
Boy 1: “Nice. Very nice.”
Boy 2: “You spoken to her since that night?”
Boy 1: “No.” He glanced toward the far table. “Hey, let’s get a beer in.”