Chương 6: How to Fix a Body

Next came the body. After hearing that, Kichan became far too aware of his own. His knees felt faintly sore when he climbed the stairs on the way to work. If he sat too long, his lower back tightened up. On days he drank too much coffee, his stomach burned. Things he would normally have dismissed as the standard office-worker package now felt suspicious one by one. Had the body always made this much noise? Sitting in his office chair, Kichan rotated his wrist. Crack. A small sound. He stopped immediately.

Assistant Manager Park looked over.

"Mr. Han, you okay?"

"My wrist's a little..."

"Too much mouse use. I almost got that tunnel thing too."

"What is that exactly?"

"You only find out once you go to the hospital." Hospital. The word was strangely reassuring. If there was something wrong with a human body, you went to the hospital. That was, at the very least, a more normal option than the Voynich manuscript. But he couldn't very well walk into a clinic and explain the sprout-shaped mark on his finger. At lunch, he went as far as the orthopedics clinic near the office. On the glass door were the words: Neck. Shoulders. Lower Back Pain.

It was so ordinary that it almost made going inside easier. Kichan stopped in front of the door. His fingertips grew hot. This time, the sensation came from inside the clinic. One elderly man in the waiting room sat holding his wrist. A young woman had a compression bandage around her ankle. A middle-aged man winced every time he turned his neck. It was as if he could see faint lines in their bodies. See wasn't the right word.

It felt more like hearing the vibration of a distant guitar string through his fingertips. Tiny misalignments made of bone, tendon, and fatigue. He stepped back at once.

"No. Absolutely not." He didn't go in. Instead, he bought a triangle kimbap and soy milk from the convenience store and returned to work. It felt like running away. That night, the price of running came in a dream. Kichan wasn't standing in the cafe this time. He was standing inside his own body. It was a ridiculous way to describe it, but that was exactly how it felt in the dream. He stood in the middle of a dark, narrow path, with red stem-like lines running away on both sides.

Somewhere far off, a dull pulse thudded. His heartbeat. The moment Kichan realized that, he swore.

"Why would you put me here?" This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Something wearing Sooyeon's face appeared beside him. This time there was no cafe chair and no coffee cup. The face floated in the dark by itself. Behind it, thin light like a new shoot spread in a faint afterimage, then blurred when Kichan blinked.

"It's your body."

"That's exactly why I hate it more." It laughed.

"Look carefully." Kichan didn't want to. But the dream didn't care much about his preferences. Paths opened in the darkness. Channels like blood vessels. Lines taut as tendons. Pillars hard as bone. Small tears between muscle fibers. Instinctively, Kichan thought of his right wrist. The wrist appeared in the dark. The part that held a mouse too long. The fingers that pressed guitar strings. The small inflammation inside the joint, and the fatigue that was still too vague to call an illness. He understood it.

Too easily.

"What is this?"

"The part of you you've kept ignoring."

"The body before it starts saying it hurts." Kichan couldn't answer. The dream-wrist was far more complicated than he'd expected. When one line tightened, another had to endure. One small patch of inflammation slowly blocked the nearby paths. He reached out. There was no light again. Instead, the sensation he knew from tuning a guitar came over him. Pull too hard, and it snaps. Too loose, and it makes no sound. You don't just shove through a blockage. You loosen what is straining first.

Kichan pressed carefully at the slight misalignment inside the wrist. Pain rose in the dream as vividly as in real life.

"Ah!" As he tried to pull away, the thing beside him said:"This isn't about making pain disappear."

"Then what is it?"

"It's about opening up what's blocked." The phrase annoyed him. It sounded like a cheesy infomercial line. But his fingertips already understood. The path where the inflammation could ease. The route where blood could circulate. The place where the tendon could rest. Grinding his teeth, Kichan pushed just a little. One taut line inside the wrist loosened. The dream ended. Kichan opened his eyes in bed. His right wrist was hot. He carefully rotated it. Crack. No sound came. The pain was gone too.

He should have been happy. Instead, the first thought that came to him was this: I'm screwed. This is real. The next morning, he deliberately lifted a heavy mug with his right hand. His wrist was fine. At work too, there was no pain when he held the mouse. Assistant Manager Park handed him a file and asked,"Did you go to the hospital yesterday?"

"No."

"But your wrist looks fine now."

"Natural healing."

"Lucky. Wish my neck would do some natural healing too." Park rotated his neck and grimaced. Kichan tried not to look. But his fingertips reacted. The back of the neck. The line running down into the shoulder. Muscles stiff from sitting too long. Not a real injury yet, but a place that would become pain if left alone. Kichan pushed his chair back.

"Stretch."

"I know, I know."

"Now."

"Right now?" He turned Park's chair slightly.

"Raise your arm like this, and tilt your neck the other way. No, the other other way. Slow."

"Did you suddenly become a fitness YouTuber?"

"Just do it." Laughing, Park followed along. Kichan didn't touch him. He only told him where it should pull and what needed to relax. Weirdly enough, he was exact. After moving a few times, Park's eyes widened.

"Oh? That actually helped."

"See?"

"Where'd you learn this?" Kichan searched for an answer. Old bookstore in Italy. Walking through his own body in a dream. That weird thing wearing Sooyeon's face.

"YouTube."

"Send me the link."

"Later." Kichan sat back down. His fingertips were quiet again. He let out a relieved breath. He hadn't fixed anything directly. He convinced himself that made it acceptable. But that evening, when he opened the front door at home, his mother was rubbing her lower back.

"What happened?" Kichan asked.

"I think I twisted it lifting a kimchi container. It's fine." It's fine. People who weren't fine said that a lot. Kichan stopped halfway through taking off his shoes. He could feel a slight misalignment around her lower back. It wasn't serious. A muscle had been startled. The surrounding area had tightened. It could get better with a little rest. But if she moved wrong, it could linger. He clenched his hand. Don't do it. You don't understand this power well enough. It's a human body. It's Mom's body.

He looked toward the kitchen. His mother was trying to move a pot of stew while bent slightly at the waist.

"Leave it," he said, walking over.

"I'll do it."

"I'm fine."

"Leave it. Your back hurts." He moved the pot instead. Then he told her to sit down in a chair.

"Why are you making such a fuss?"

"Maybe I became a dutiful son after traveling abroad." His mother laughed. Kichan couldn't. He didn't touch her back directly. Instead, he brought over a towel soaked in warm water and asked which side hurt less to lean toward. His fingertips kept showing him the pathways. Don't press here. Keep this part warm. Let this part rest. He translated those directions into the most ordinary actions he could. After dinner, his mother said,"Oh. It feels a little better." Only then did Kichan breathe again.

His father looked at him over the newspaper.

"Where'd you learn that?"

"YouTube." That made twice today. YouTube was taking responsibility for a lot lately. That night, the voice in his dream spoke again.

"You could've done it directly." In the dark, Kichan answered,"I'm not using a person's body like some experiment."

"It's not an experiment."

"That makes me want to do it even less." The voice fell silent for a moment. Then the face that resembled Sooyeon came very close.

"That's why you're a good one." Kichan frowned. It sounded like praise, which made him want to reject it on principle.

"I don't want that."

"Next is medicine." Kichan was still swearing right up until he woke.