ATTEW – Chapter 8

Matching the three-digit code unlocked the padlock. She found several bundles of bills neatly rolled and tied, along with a few loose notes.

“That’s all?”

“…….” 

“Hurry and pack it.”

At Myeongok’s urging, Eunho stuffed the bundles into a black plastic bag, then went into the room.

Inside the wardrobe was a piggy bank where she’d saved the small change she earned for fetching cigarettes, stockings, condoms, aphrodisiacs, and other things she didn’t even know the names of. The pig was about the size of Eunho’s head and incredibly heavy. Even though Hwajin had split its belly open and taken money from it several times, it was still like that.

“Move it.”

Myeongok glanced around anxiously as she hurried her on. This time, Eunho picked up the pillow lying on the bedding. The pillow Hwajin used to stash her fees—a pillow soaked in Hwajin’s smell and the smell of money, a real money pillow.

“No bag?”

“Don’t have one.”

“What do you mean you don’t? Your mom must’ve had one. Fine, a pillow’s one thing, but you’re going to carry a piggy bank and a bag full of cash in your hands? In a place crawling with money-crazed demons? You think that’s okay?”

“…….”

“Here—there’s a bag. Put the piggy bank and the cash in here. If there’s anything else to take, grab it.”

Myeongok opened the wardrobe and tossed her a backpack. It was the bag they’d used two years ago when they moved here, filled back then with clothes and odds and ends. Eunho put her few belongings inside. Last, she added Hwajin’s hairbrush and one flower-pink slipper with the ornament torn off.

It was the one the Dog-Tattoo Bastard had been standing on earlier—Eunho had picked it up and carried it ever since.

“Why take that? It’s filthy.”

“…….”

Without answering, Eunho zipped the bag shut and stood. Myeongok shot her a look—all done? When Eunho nodded, Myeongok put her index finger to her lips. From here on out, they had to be truly quiet.

“Fuck, of all days it has to snow too.”

After telling her to be quiet, Myeongok spent the whole way down the alley muttering complaints, holding Eunho’s hand. The slope was slippery with piled snow.

The alley was quiet—empty would be more accurate. Even after a killing and all that chaos, it was a busy weekend. To the pimps, making money mattered more than someone dying, so business carried on as if nothing had happened. Which meant the women who lived here were all down below.

“Don’t look. There’s nothing to see.”

“…….”

As they passed the spot where Hwajin had died, Eunho’s eyes were drawn there despite herself. The place, cordoned off by police tape, looked even darker in the night. Myeongok pushed at Eunho’s back, urging her to keep moving.

“Eyes forward.”

“…….”

“This won’t do. You go on ahead. Don’t let anyone see you—go straight to our shop. Got it? Don’t let anyone see you!”

Rolling her eyes at Myeongok’s constant orders, Eunho ran. She hunched her small body and shashashak—moved fast, like a rat.

At last, she reached Night Pass Super and hid behind the door. A little later, Myeongok arrived, locked up, and tried to wash Eunho. Eunho fought hard, dodging her hands—she didn’t want to be washed, didn’t want it discovered that she was a girl.

“Why! Why won’t you wash? You’re filthy! You know that? This is why people call you a rat bastard!”

“I don’t care if I am!”

“You little rat turd! You never back down, do you?”

“Why should I!”

“Quiet! What if people outside hear!”

Faced with Eunho’s fierce resistance, Myeongok finally raised both hands in surrender. Clicking her tongue, she grabbed Eunho’s thin wrist and dragged her into the back room of the shop. She unzipped a musty wardrobe and pulled out several blankets.

“Get in.”

“……Why?”

“If you want to live, get in. Unless you want to be sold off to some island and work yourself to death!”

Threatened like that, Eunho shot her a glare and stepped into the wardrobe. She hugged the bag with her belongings and money, along with Hwajin’s pillow, tight to her chest.

“No matter what you hear, don’t come out. Got it?”

Myeongok pressed a piece of bread and a carton of milk into her hands, glancing back several times. She said Eunho wasn’t to come out until she opened the zipper and took her out. When Eunho asked why, Myeongok snapped that the little thing asked too many questions and should just do what adults said—then zipped the wardrobe shut. There wasn’t even time to say she needed to pee.

Myeongok turned off the light, closed the door tight, and seemed to go back out to the shop. Eunho tucked the bread and milk into her bag and rested her face between her knees, not even knowing why she had to hide like this.

Only one thing came to mind: Hwajin’s unfocused eyes.

Earlier, they’d felt unbearably sad. Thinking of them now, they were terrifying. Hwajin’s death hadn’t fully sunk in yet—fear outweighed grief. Even facing her, Eunho hadn’t been in Hwajin’s eyes. That fear felt like something she’d never forget as long as she lived.

She sniffled quietly. Sleep washed over her. She shook her head, bit her lip, trying not to doze off—but her eyelids kept drooping, heavy as lead.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. Then a sound outside startled her awake.

“The shop was empty earlier. You locked it up—where’d you go?”

“Stomach bug—had to leave it, why. Need something?”

“You lock up the shop just to take a dump?”

“Of course! You think I leave it open and go take a dump? You know what kind of neighborhood this is. Night Pass is the kind of place where they’ll covet a bone from a dog’s chewing! I’d come back from a dump and be a beggar!”

The woman’s voice was Myeongok’s; the man sounded like the pimp from House Number 7.

“You don’t suspect me, do you?”

“…….”

“Why would you? I’ve got nothing! Who in this neighborhood runs a more honest business than me!”

“Yeah, that conscience of yours. Only you’ve got it. That’s the problem.”

“What problem!”

“The kid’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s probably at home.”

“She’s not.”

Eunho realized instinctively they were talking about her. In the darkness, her small shoulders hunched.

“Where would a kid go? Maybe she’s hiding somewhere, crying.”

“I’m telling you—she’s not there. I just searched everywhere on my way down. No money, no kid. After that bank went under, Hwajin said she would never go near banks again. She must’ve stashed cash somewhere.”

“So the little runt already ran off with the money? Hah… guess she takes after her mom—money-grubbing from early on.”

“Fuck. Selling that kid could’ve been a tidy profit. I was so busy chasing that bastard earlier, I didn’t think of it. Hwajin’s kid might be small, but she’s sharp, right?”

“She is. Where were you thinking of selling her?”

“Plenty of places. If you tell me, I’ll cut you in. You didn’t see the kid, did you?”

At the man’s insinuating question, Eunho’s toes curled tight.

“I saw her in the morning… and when Hwajin died, yeah. She was raising hell trying to follow her mom, so I held her back—that was it. My own nose was running. Why would I pity anyone? I let her go, and it looked like she went home.”

“From the Hole House, wherever she ran, she’d have to pass right by here. You sure you didn’t see her, ma’am? Really?”

“Do you think I sit at my door counting who passes by all day? I told you—I’ve had the runs since evening, in and out of the bathroom nonstop. And you know, Uncle—she’s fast, that little thing. Why do you think her nickname is Rat? I usually don’t even see her. Only when she sneaks in to steal something.”

“…….”

“And Uncle, it’s Saturday. Between watching my drama and selling goods, when would I have time to stare outside?”

“Hm…”

“Don’t even say it—it’s creepy. Someone died. I didn’t even look outside, I was so spooked. And of all days, my husband’s away too… ugh. I’m scared, I can’t even go into my room. I’ll keep watch in the shop all night.”

“Weren’t you close with Hwajin?”

“Close? What are you saying? Just this morning, she scratched at my nerves, grabbed my hair, and made a scene! She squeezed fifty thousand won out of me! She was crazy. Forget it—badmouthing the dead just makes me feel gross.”

With the sound of the TV playing, their conversation went on.

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