Ji-Won lowered the phone from his ear. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen. The distraction was gone. There was nothing but the city noise, the faint smell of the river, and the weight of his failure settling on his shoulders like a wet, leaden shroud.
Coward. Coward. Coward.
He shoved the phone into his jeans pocket. The last orange light of the sun vanished behind the distant buildings of Yeouido, plunging Seoul into twilight. Neon lights began to flicker to life, promising a night of excitement and money to everyone who wasn't Kang Ji-Won.
He started walking again.
There was no reason to rush. Where would he go? "Home"?
"Home" was too big a word for what awaited him.
"Home" was a Goshiwon room in the Mullae-dong district. An area of old factories, rusty metal-working shops, and cheap residential buildings stacked on top of each other. The air there always carried a faint smell of burnt metal and old kimchi stew.
It was a long walk back. Across Mapo Bridge, then through the crowded streets of Yeongdeungpo. He could take the subway, but...
...Balance: 3,450 Won...
No. Save it. You don't know when you'll need every last damned won.
So, he walked.
The walk became a ritual. One step. Another step. Each footfall was a hammer blow, driving the words "Echoless" deeper into his bones.
He passed a Tteokbokki stall. The sweet, spicy smell of the red sauce made his stomach clench painfully. He hadn't eaten anything since a dry piece of toast that morning. Ignore it. Pain is a luxury I can't afford right now.
He passed a convenience store. A poster on the glass: [Part-timer wanted! Must possess an Echo of any rank (Stamina-type preferred)].
Ji-Won looked away. Even a damned convenience store job was now a pipe dream.
An hour later, or maybe it was two, his legs had become numb stumps. He barely felt the pavement anymore. He finally reached the narrow, dark alley that led to his building.
The alley was dark. The single streetlight was broken. The only light came from the flickering red neon sign of a closed Noraebang (karaoke) at the end of the street, washing the grimy walls in a sickly red glow.
His building was the tallest and ugliest one in the alley. Five stories of cracked concrete.
Home. What a dump.
He pushed open the heavy front door. The smell of mildew, dampness, and cheap ramyeon hit him instantly.
He started climbing the stairs.
First floor. Second floor.
Two million won...
Third floor. Fourth floor.
...How, how, how? A loan? Who would loan to an Echoless? Sell my organs? Maybe...
He reached the fifth and final floor. The hallway was barely wide enough for one person and dark. He stopped in front of his door: 504.
He fumbled for his key. His hands were shaking slightly, not from cold, but from sheer exhaustion. Damn it. Even my hands won't obey me.
He jammed the key into the rusty lock. It wouldn't turn. It was stuck.
"Dammit!" he hissed, jiggling the key violently. Not now. Just... just let me in.
Finally, with a painful metal click, the lock turned.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Pitch black.
The room was a box. A folding bed that took up most of the space, a small desk, and a chair. That was it. A tiny window looked out onto the brick wall of the next building.
He didn't bother hitting the light switch. Why? To see his own empty walls?
He closed the door behind him, leaned his back against it, and slowly slid down until he was sitting on the cold floor.
Silence.
For the first time since he'd left the Harmony Tower, he was completely alone.
So... this is how it ends.
He sat there in the dark, listening to his own heartbeat. Then, as his foot shifted, he felt something.
Paper.
A piece of paper had been shoved under his door.
He reached out in the dark, his fingers fumbling on the floor until they grazed the edge of the sheet.
What's this? Mrs. Ahn's rent bill? But it's not due yet...
He pulled out his phone. He used the light of his cracked screen to see.
It wasn't a rent bill.
The words were printed in dark red ink, stark even in the dim light.
[FINAL EVICTION NOTICE]
The two words screamed off the page. The red ink looked like it was bleeding on the cheap paper.
For a moment, Ji-Won didn't understand. Eviction? No, it had to be a mistake.
He shined the screen on the details. [Tenant: Kang Ji-Won, Room 504]. [Amount Overdue: 550,000 Won (2 months + late fee)]. [Final Deadline: 72 hours from date of notice].