The Black Night

There was a night when the subway kept running tirelessly. The darkness settling on the city swirled lightly, emitting a quiet scent, blowing a faint whistle. Rectangles with rounded corners flowed darkly, and a line of handholds swayed and swung. It was that kind of night.

Shinwoo was staring at the moving pictures. No voices could be heard. Beyond the grand and stylish glass of a mansion overlooking the Han River, on a corner of a stone staircase spread out over a large garden, a man and a woman faced their farewell. How distant this goodbye would be was unknown, but the calm yet wavering eyes of the woman hinted at the meaning of this moment and the ones to follow. No voices were audible. Would the woman remain silent to the end? The small dot engraved under her lips faded slowly into the shadows. Their noses came close enough to touch. Soon, their lips were layered.

Lips open lips. Tongue bites tongue, saliva mixes bodies. A rich scent fills the air. When, oh when, would he see her again? His breath quickens. Does that matter? People tend to disappear on a whim, as if they never existed here, leaving no trace behind. He embraces her, never parting their lips. His breath quickens even more. It gets hot. The intimacy deepens. The writhing flesh, the soft whispers. Then, the tongue suddenly slips away.

What is this? Something grainy, not too big or too small, is passed from the tip of her tongue. The woman turns around. Then she disappears. The ceiling soars endlessly, and the floor caves in below. It's strange. It's definitely strange.

"Can't you be quiet? If you keep this up, I'm calling the cops and having you removed at the next station!"

Shinwoo abruptly jerked his head up at the sudden shout. His senses were still dull. A middle-aged man seated diagonally across from him was yelling at someone, his hand waving angrily. Unbeknownst to him, Shinwoo was clenching his teeth tightly and he could feel a sharp pain. It seemed like a molar had slightly cracked.

"What the hell is this? Where am I supposed to get off? If you're uncomfortable with my presence, you should leave! Why is this subway route like this? Some stations that should be here are missing."

A hunchbacked old man with white hair retorted. The finger of the middle-aged man was pointing at the old man.

"Hey, you're brazen. You're making a racket in the subway, and who the hell are you to tell me to get out?"

Other passengers in the same car all had earphones plugged in their ears and were staring at their phones. Shinwoo tasted something salty. It was the taste of blood.

"If you're that bothered, you should get lost. Do you know who I am? Back when this subway first started operating, huh? I was a stationmaster on Narae Island in the middle of the Han River with its flashy opera house! Everyone's just minding their own business, why are you starting a fight now. Shush."

The old man abruptly took out something long and rod-like from his bag, straightened up, and walked threateningly towards the middle-aged man. The object in the frail old man's hand was an aged cane.

"Go ahead, hit me."

The middle-aged man stood up abruptly. The two people sitting next to him glanced at him nervously. Everyone else kept their eyes glued to their phones.

As the old man raised his right hand in a striking motion, the middle-aged man instinctively shut his eyes and shrank back.

"Ha, look at this dude. Putting on airs with guts the size of a bean."

"This motherf..."

The middle-aged man's face turned beet red, which prompted a hearty laugh from the old man.

"Scared, huh? Ah, good grief, I won't hit you. What's the point in fighting at this age, with no money? So..."

The old man gently stroked the middle-aged man's cheek with his cane.

"Just be quiet, no, just sit still."

Suddenly, the middle-aged man grabbed the cane with one hand, glaring at the old man with bloodshot eyes. The middle-aged man was shaking.

"Crazy old man."

"And what if I am, huh?"

Before the old man finished his sentence, the middle-aged man landed a punch on his face. The old man fell backward stiffly, as if his joints had suddenly frozen, and landed at Jinwoo's feet, who was sitting diagonally across. The back of his head hit the train floor with a thud, as if it was smashed with a brick. The fallen old man twitched with his eyes wide open, then stopped.

A sudden wave of terror swept through the car, filling it with screams. The train was still running. There was no immediate way to get off, so everyone frantically jumped up and rushed towards the neighboring cars. They rudely pushed their way forward, eager to get out of this car as quickly as possible. The middle-aged man, momentarily frozen in his confounded fear, soon bolted towards the neighboring car too. Jinwoo glanced one last time at the upside-down face of the old man, quickly gathered his bag, held his jaw in one hand, and hurried off his seat.

The old man's body lay in an empty train car. The black blood from his nostrils slowly dripped to the floor, and a thin stream of blood reached out to the aged cane that lay beside his head. The nighttime subway was noisy but eerily silent inside.