Chapter 12 — An Alien Lives in the Bibari Supermarket
The large well, so wide that even stretching both arms out couldn’t reach across, was sealed shut with a heavy wooden lid.
A stone wall of uneven rocks stacked in a round formation enclosed it.
The page describing the Bibari Well had said it was over a thousand years old.
A few paces away, a cluster of young soapberry trees stood, forming a half-circle around the flower bed near the well.
The well area had been turned into a small park—its ground neatly covered in soft pavement, plenty of benches to rest on, and multiple old plum trees spread around.
Because modernization came relatively late to Junsan City, the well park had been a local hot spot even just 30 years ago. All of Bongnim-dong’s oldest shops were still arranged in a broad arc around it.
Feeling guilty for having moved in without even bringing a roll of toilet paper, Muru went out for a walk. She followed the line of shops around the Bibari Well until she found a supermarket—passing a pool hall, a dry cleaner’s, a stationery shop, a Chinese restaurant… and finally, Bibari Supermarket.
She stepped in under the weathered signboard.
Jingle. The bell attached to the brown aluminum door jingled. The store was the kind of mom-and-pop shop rarely found even in the countryside these days.
A couple of product stands, a low table on the side, and a pile of old public bath stools stacked like a tower.
Bath stools? Were those for sale?
They looked way too worn for that.
As Muru approached the stand, thinking these thoughts, the sliding door to the store’s backroom creaked open. Just as she was struggling to hold a bulk pack of toilet paper and detergent, she turned—and froze.
The backroom was a few steps higher than the store floor. It was the kind of place you’d expect a hunched granny to emerge from. But instead—
“Muru, isn’t it?”
The store owner, who had apparently recognized her, tucked a strand of bright blond bobbed hair behind his ear. The bleached hair wasn’t the surprising part. It wasn’t even the fact that a young man with bleached hair had come out of the backroom.
It was that he was so pretty—almost to the point of being mistaken for a girl at first glance. No, even that wasn’t the issue.
“…Excuse me?”
“My god, Muru! It’s been forever!”
The man was wearing fuzzy grandma slippers, a flamboyant floral padded vest, and flowy baggy pants—none of which Muru had ever seen on a single person before. She unconsciously took a step back.
“Wh…wh-who are you?”
The man gave a sheepish smile, realizing she didn’t recognize him.
“Oh, I lost a lot of weight. That’s probably why.”
No, that wasn’t the problem. It’s the vest. And the slippers.
“I’m Baekmo. Gu Baekmo. We went to elementary school together.”
Baekmo blinked his large double-lidded eyes as if trying to jog her memory.
If only forgotten memories could return under pressure. Muru just felt guilty staring at those blinking lashes.
* * *
In this land of delivery-obsessed people, Gu Baekmo ordered two bowls of jjajangmyeon over a landline. The owner of the Chinese restaurant Bibaru next door personally delivered the tray.
“Oh, you must be busy. We shouldn’t have—”
“You knew I was busy and still pulled this stunt, huh, Gu?”
We? I didn’t order this!
Muru fumed in silence while Baekmo remained cheerful. The older restaurant owner gave them a mild scolding.
“I’m not busy. No customers anyway.”
Surprisingly, it was Baekmo—not the restaurant owner—who said that. And he said it with a bright smile. Whether or not he was close to this strange man, the restaurant owner perched on the doorstep.
“Your store’s not exactly booming either. It’s swarming with flies.”
“I open properly in the evening.”
Taking cash out of the safe, Baekmo gestured toward the pile of bath stools.
“You should’ve moved near your daughter ages ago. Didn’t Realtor Sangchun keep telling you to sell?”
Baekmo, who didn’t look a day over 20, had just called the restaurant owner—who looked easily over 60—hyung (older brother). Apparently this outrageous behavior was nothing new, because the old man didn’t react.
“My daughter only wants me nearby to help raise her kid. I’ve already raised five! Why would I raise another?”
“You raised them? Your wife did.”
“Did you just call my wife noona?”
“I’m closer to her than you are. Stay out of it.”
When the restaurant owner raised a fist, Baekmo responded with a high-pitched laugh like a neighborhood auntie.
With a parting “See you later tonight,” the old man left the shop. Even with an uncovered bowl of jjajangmyeon in front of her, Muru still hadn’t let her guard down.
“…Um, I’m sorry I don’t remember you.”
“Mm-hmm. It’s okay.”
When someone apologizes like that, shouldn’t you at least lie and say, “No, no, it’s fine”?
Muru stared down at the top of his head as he stirred his noodles.
“If you could share a few memories, maybe it’d help jog my—memory?”
“You forgot we promised to get married?”
What the hell? How many guys did past me make marriage pacts with?
While Muru brooded, Baekmo burst out laughing.
“Just kidding! Haha. We were just classmates. Childhood friends.”
I swear to God…
Muru briefly fantasized about murder.
“You said you were my oppa, but we were in the same class?”
“I started school late. My grandma delayed enrolling me.”
“…Your grandma?”
“You don’t remember? She ran this store for decades. Geez, Muru…”
Before digging in, Baekmo tied his hair up with a rubber band from a drawer. That’s when the cochlear implant hooked on one ear came into view.
Taking a big bite of jjajangmyeon, he tapped the ear with the implant.
“Oh, right. I had surgery. I can hear well now. Speak fine, too. Went through intense speech and hearing therapy.”
“Ah… I see.”
“I still use sign language too. Especially with other Deaf folks.”
It seemed like Baekmo had been Deaf as a child.
“Oh, right. Now I remember.”
The mood felt safe enough to bluff.
“We were super close, right?”
“Nope.”
This psycho. And he says it with a smile.
Muru gave up trying to reason with this alien and focused on chewing her noodles. With chopsticks in hand, there was no graceful way to flee.
Baekmo happily shared memories on his own.
“You used to play house near Bibari Well. You were always the mom. The dads changed all the time.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I was more like… a background character. Hiding behind trees, watching you guys.”
“Sure.”
“I was super shy and frail, so I didn’t fit in well.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
That shy little kid sure grew up with confidence, judging by what she’d seen today.
“I’m still like that. Born weak, always low on energy… so I just run the shop. Luckily I’m really into modern media, so it kinda suits me.”
Muru nodded vaguely. A muted TV flickered in the corner. So he just watches TV all day, then.
“…Your grandma—?”
She cautiously asked about his grandmother. Baekmo smiled faintly and pointed to the sky.
“Oh… I’m sorry.”
She immediately felt bad for asking. It reminded her of asking Park Tarim about her own parents that morning—another careless move.
“She took a plane to the Philippines.”
…What?
“I’m serious. She made a bundle from running the shop and bought a house there. She remarried and lives in Manila.”
“How old is she…?”
“She’s 107. Her new husband is 90. She likes younger men.”
“Ah… ha, ha… How lively of her. Still.”
Lying with just a finger pointed to heaven, Baekmo slurped his noodles serenely. His face was absurdly handsome. Even Park Tarim was unusually good-looking, but maybe the Bibari Well really did have some kind of hot guy energy. Though their fashion sense could use work.
“You have… really unique fashion sense.”
“Right? It’s all my grandma’s hand-me-downs. I love vintage.”
Vintage and worn-out are not the same thing.
“You’re here to visit your mom?”
“Ah… no.”
Her divorced mother had lived in Junsan all this time with her single younger sister. But Muru had never met or contacted either of them. At home in Gangneung, talking about her mother had been taboo. Since her father never brought her up, Muru never dared to ask.
All she knew was that both parents were from Junsan, her father moved away after the divorce, and her mother now lived with her aunt.
“I’m staying at the Hwaran House. Tarim’s doing a house share there, and I’m just… temporarily staying.”
“That place is kind of… isn’t it?”
“Sorry?”
“I mean, at night, it’s a little…”
Then Baekmo trailed off and fell silent—for a moment.
