Timekeeper

It’s cold.

Her arms and legs and bones and everything are aching. The soft cushioning underneath her do nothing; all she feels is pain. When she cracks open her eyes, yellows and purples make her close them tightly. Pretending to be under the spell of sleep, she twists and turns slowly, biting down on her lip hard as she feels a bruise on her right leg. She holds her breath.

I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here.

The thought echoes through her mind with growing desperation. She’s frightened and wants to just go home to her mother and crawl into the comfort of her own bed, and her own blankets. Swallowing, she peeks with one eye open. There isn’t much to take in since she’s facing the back of the brown sofa, but she manages to catch a hazy glimpse of the same wooden door from before. Mina calculates in her mind the amount of time it’ll take to make a run for the door.

“I know you’re awake,” an amused voice speaks up from behind her, making her heart beat faster.

She doesn’t care, because suddenly she’s off of the sofa, running frantically for the door. Running and running and running. Her knees feel weak from the aching but she tries her best to ignore it and block out everything: the pain, the burning and the chucking from behind her. But she can’t; she’s wondering why he’s laughing at her.

Mina’s heart stops at the sight of the metal locks on the door.

She slows down and slowly reaches for one of the many locks, almost scared to touch it. She runs her finger along the golden chain and pulls at it once and twice and thrice, but to no avail. There are no key holes, only hundreds and hundreds of chains. Her fingers fall limp after tugging for a while.

“It’s no use,” he tells her. “They’re bounded together.”

“H-How-“ she starts, her voice trembling in defeat.

“Magic,” he whispers into her ear, his voice tickling the base of her neck. Her eyes shoot open and her back falls against the door, surprised from the sudden proximity. He grins and she scrambles to get away from him; he’s the danger.

“Let me out of here,” she tries to say without letting the fear trickle into her voice.

“No can do,” he shrugs. “You heard Junhyung, I can’t screw up again. So… you’re stuck here with me. Sorry.” He’s insincere about his apology, and the both of them know it. He looks at her, before going towards her. “So you-“

“Don’t come near me!” she says loudly, with her back digging against a high wooden desk and her fingers clamped firmly around the edges.

“Hey,” he says, putting his hands up in defense with his eyes widened, feigning innocence. “Don’t worry. I’m on your side.”

“What do you mean?” She’s confused about his words, and he leaves her with nothing to contemplate about as he steers themselves away from his prior statement.

“Why don’t we go sit down, yeah?” He motions over to the brown sofa she was on moments ago. “We can talk there.”

“No,” she says shortly.

“I made coffee,” he says lightly.

“I hate coffee.”

“Oh c’mon,” he drawls. He walks towards her; she inches away. Mina’s hands scrunch into her dress as if to protest. She’s rebellious. His lips quirk upward. Retracting his hand, he moves one hand to his back and bends down slightly in a bow, motioning with another hand towards the room with the sofa. “Ladies first.”

She gives him a look, but he doesn’t move. He continues on with his little game. After looking at the chains one last time, she sighs and walks slowly towards the sofa, with Yoseob following closely behind.

“So,” he says, while dropping down to his seat. His elbows are pressed against his knees and he’s staring at her. She looks away. “You should always look at someone when they’re talking, yeah?”

Mina sighs.

Yoseob grins. He does that a lot.

“I know that this is scary for you,” he starts. “But it doesn’t have to-“

“Who are you?” Her voice is soft with curiosity, yet strong; it’s strong and she’s pulling out all the anchors that she has to keep herself from drowning into the sea of hopelessness.

“Now if you hadn’t run off on me twice, we would’ve been through with the introductions already, yeah?” he quips, while tousling his blonde hair with a free hand. It falls in his face, near his eyes. He doesn’t bother to move it. “Yoseob. Yang Yoseob-“

“No, not your name,” she says, cutting him off. He blinks. “I mean… what do you do?”

“Ah,” he nods his head several times, chuckling. “I’m a junior timekeeper here in Jeongsan – small little village here, isn’t it?” he remarks, before shrugging. “I’d rather be in Pyeongsan. It’s like... it’s like – what’s that city called? Back at Earth? With all those lights? Heong – no, seong…”

“Seoul,” she says quietly. She’s reminded of home. “It’s Seoul.”

“Right,” he exclaims, snapping his fingers. “Seoul. It’s like Seoul. City-like; tons of timekeepers everywhere. But this is like the goddamn village side.” He rolls his eyes. “They think that the juniors will be reckless on the job with too many distractions. That’s bull, if y’ask me. But whatever, they can think what they want.”

Mina fidgets, and she rubs the insides of her wrists against the rough fabric of her dress. “What’s a timekeeper?”

“Me,” he laughs. “I thought we established that already-“

“No.” She sighs, aggravated at his playful demeanor. “What do you do? How many of them are there? Why are we here? Why am I here?” She rambles on, her questions endless.

“Well, we’re all just a bunch of unlucky ones, us timekeepers,” he frowns, scratching his head. “I don’t know how many there are. I only know a few others – most of them are in Pyeongsan. And you’re here because, well, god knows why. You’re just an assignment, for all I know. Assignment number…”

He thinks, before looking around and finding a clipboard with a yellowing piece of paper attached. “Assignment #65 905.” Then he sends me a cheeky smile. “And for me, you’re assignment #...13, congratulations, Oh Mina, age eighteen, born on-“

She takes the clipboard from him, fumbling with her trembling hands as she scans it, her lips parted. A shaky breath escapes. Long lists of her records are jotted down on these papers. The schools she’s been to. The addresses she’s lived at. Her blood type. Her allergies. Every single detail of her is written on these papers and it scares her – it really, really scares her because she feels so exposed and vulnerable. It’s difficult to swallow. She manages, but she feels sick. She feels faint, but she continues looking.

He’s peering over her shoulder. “So you grew up in the countryside. Gwangju, huh? Well then, I guess you’ll fit right in-“

The clipboard falls to her feet; the sound rings through the small house. Her throat is dry. It all feels too real.

“I-I’m going to die,” she whispers.

“Not really-“

“I’m going to die,” she repeats, her eyes faltering.

He rests a hand on her shoulder, trying to keep her under control. He’s done this twelve times already.

“Get off of me!” she screams, shoving him away with so much force that he stumbles back. She breathes in deeply, hurriedly, and scrambles towards the door once again. But the chains are still there, and the locks are still in place, and the door is still closed shut. She screams in defeat and Yoseob picks up the clipboard from the ground, shoving back a photo of Mina and her mother into the papers.

“Wait-“

“No! Open this goddamn door now!” This time she yanks at the chains hard. The gold metal presses deeply into the creases of her fingers and they burn and burn but she doesn’t care. She’s losing it; she’s frantic, mad.

“I don’t want to die!” she cries, and she says it in a way so desperate and so broken.

“You aren’t going to-“

“I can’t die!” she cries again, shaking her head over and over. She’s on her knees now, with her hand still dangling over the chains in defeat. Her head is hung low and her hair falls into her eyes. “I can’t… I can’t… no -“

Mina’s quiet. Her hands are clasped against her mouth and she shakes. She can’t die. ‘I’m only eighteen,’ she thinks, and it reminds her of her mother, and the last day she had with her. ‘She’s only a child,’ she said that day, ‘She’s only eighteen.’ And Mina shakes and shakes because she’s never felt more scared and alone in her life.

“Yah,” she hears, and then a hand rests on her bare shoulder. She shrugs it away. “Stop crying.”

She can’t. She tries to wipe her cheeks clean. Her wrists feel raw. Her eyes feel red and bruised.

“Listen,” he says quietly, and he inches closer to the girl. She shrinks away. “I have a deal for you. Are you interested?”

She tries to look down; it hurts.

“No?” he asks, his eyebrows quirked up. “It’s a win-win deal though.”

“What?” She sighs.

“Well,” he starts, before sliding himself down next to her. He rests the back of his head against the wall and turns his gaze to her. “There’s something that they took from me, and I need you to help me get it back. And if you help me, then I’ll help you.”

Her head turns toward him, slowly, hesitantly.

Yoseob grins. “You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours, Oh Mina.”

Notes

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