Jin and the Broken Mirror

Kim Seok Jin was drowning in paperwork that wasn’t his. It covered everything; his desk, his lap, and even dotted the floor like giant snowflakes. A half-dozen open files were wedged between his side and the arm of his office chair, and he was trying to determine which papers needed to go into each file.
“Kim Seok Jin!”
Jin started violently. “Yes, sir?”
His boss, a balding fat man named Park Gohyun, was glaring at him from the threshold of his cubicle. “Have you finished yet?”
Jin summoned a respectful expression. “Not quite, sir, but I should be-”
“The deadline is at midnight!” Gohyun shouted. “Do want me to look a fool in front of the board?!”
“No sir, my apologies, sir,” Jin stammered. “I’ll be finished before then.”
Gohyun glowered at him before leaving and Jin mopped his brow with his sleeve. Why is every crisis always my problem? he lamented.
The clock was just striking six above the Kang Business Solutions logo on the wall, and the last wave of Jin’s coworkers was standing up to leave. Jin didn’t even spare them a jealous look as they headed to the elevators, but his rebellious stomach wouldn’t be so easily ignored. “Later,” he told it, stapling a stack of papers together before filing them.
If he hadn’t needed this job so badly, he would’ve been happy to abandon Gohyun to his incompetence, but his boss had an uncanny knack for shifting blame. Lowly accountants like Jin were a dime a dozen, and he knew it would be much easier to fire and replace him than Gohyun, who had been managing this branch for almost six years now without missing a beat. Jin tried not to think about how many other accountants had been in his shoes, spending nights and weekends mired down in Gohyun’s mistakes while he enjoyed restaurants and bars. It wouldn’t make the work go any faster, and he needed to get home to feed his cat.
He slogged through the pile of work diligently, and by half-past eleven he was filing the last one. He made sure each file was clearly labeled, stacked them neatly and dragged himself from his cubicle to lay the files on Gohyun’s walnut desk. He stretched his long arms as far as they would go and felt his spine pop as the hunching of the last several hours melted away. He could make the subway if he hurried.
He returned to his cubicle long enough to grab his jacket and briefcase, turned off his desk lamp and took the elevator down to the lobby.
“Still here, Kim Seokjin?” the security guard called.
“Didn’t you hear, Go Chanyoung? I live here now.”
The old guard chuckled. “Be safe, and don’t forget to feed that poor cat.”
Jin left the building, shivering as the cool night air knifed through his worn jacket, and hurried to the subway entrance. The platform was practically empty, so he had no trouble getting to his train and finding a seat. His apartment was twenty minutes away in the “affordable” part of Incheon, “affordable” meaning rundown and sketchy, another reason why Jin disliked working so late. He didn’t have much in the way of worldly possessions, but he wasn’t interested in being mugged or stabbed for what little he did own.
The train pulled into the station and he didn’t linger in the station, quickly surfacing on the street and heading toward his building. He spotted a few shadowy characters loitering in alleys and parking lots, but he avoided them easily enough. His building was a crumbling, slightly sagging affair of faded yellow brick, and the guard was asleep at his desk. Jin punched in his entry code and darted inside, barely disturbing the guard as he bypassed the broken elevator and jogged up the stairs. He didn’t quite trust his neighbors either, since they tended to rotate out every few months and always seemed to eye him like a piece of meat. After fifteen months, Jin was officially the longest-residing renter in the building, and it wasn’t a distinction he was proud of.
His rent was manageable on his entry-level salary, mostly because the apartment sat on the sixth floor and had no air conditioning. In the summer Jin opened his two windows and set the ancient ceiling fan to work, but it was late winter now and he suspected the fan was now rusted in place. His key jammed in the lock, as it always did, so with practiced effort he jammed his shoulder into the door and pushed it inward. The sound made it seem like he was breaking into his own apartment, but no one ever investigated the noise. Jin tried not to think about how alone he was if a real break-in should happen. “Jar-Jar? Here kitty, here boy,” he called, setting his briefcase on the kitchen table.
He flicked the light on just as his cat came into view, a small white ball of fur that immediately wound itself around his legs. “I know, you’re hungry,” Jin crooned as he picked him up. “Let’s get us both some dinner.”
He carried Jar-Jar over to the refrigerator, which sat only a couple of feet from the front door, and found a half-eaten bowl of beef ramen from the night before. He put that in the microwave, then opened his last can of cat food and dumped it into the metal dish that served as Jar-Jar’s bowl. “Here you go,” he said, setting the cat down by the food. “Sorry I’m home so late again, my boss made me stay to finish his work. You’d think after almost six years he’d learn how to stick to a deadline, but once again I clean up his mess and he’ll be the one who gets all the credit tomorrow.”
Jar-Jar was lapping up his dinner and paying Jin no mind, but Jin liked talking to him. Jar-Jar was the best listener Jin knew, and he bore witness to Jin’s rants or philosophical musings with the same indifferent expression.
The microwave beeped and Jin retrieved his steaming dinner. He ate standing up, as he usually did, since experience told him if he sat down he’d be asleep before he could eat anything. The noodles were a little dry, but he wolfed it all down anyway and rinsed the bowl in the sink before heading to his bedroom. His twin mattress sat on a rickety wooden frame, facing the tiny TV on his dresser and the little cactus that sat in the corner. His jacket went on a hook on the door, while he traded his cheap black suit for a white tee shirt and long flannel pants. The building’s central heating still clung to life, but the wind found cracks and chinks in the walls and would whistle through his apartment all night, and he couldn’t afford to get pneumonia, so he would wrap himself in as many layers as possible before going to sleep. Jin pulled a sweatshirt over his tee shirt, checked the duct tape with which he had lined his bedroom window, and climbed into bed.
Crack!
The bed frame snapped from under him, dropping him and the mattress unceremoniously to the floor, and Jin groaned when he saw the broken slats protruding from under the mattress. Great, that’s just what I need, he thought glumly.
Jar-Jar sauntered in as if to investigate the noise, and Jin gave him a rueful look. “Guess I’m going shopping tomorrow,” he said.


******

“Kim Seok Jin!”
Jin snapped awake and straightened up hurriedly. His coworker, a tall woman named Ha Hee Bon, was peering at him over the edge of his cubicle.
“Sorry, I was just… thinking,” Jin said, regathering the papers that had slipped under him while he dozed.
“Park Gohyun keep you late again?”
“When doesn’t he?” Jin sighed. “I can’t remember the last time I ate dinner before midnight. To add insult to injury, my bed frame finally broke last night.”
Hee Bon smirked. “I didn’t think you had time for that.”
Jin’s ears flamed and he pretended to be engrossed by his work.
“Don’t be so childish, I’m just teasing. I happen to know a good discount store that sells furniture. Maybe you could find a replacement there.”
She jotted the address down on her notepad and gave him the paper. “They close at eight, so you’d have to get off work at a reasonable time.”
“Not likely,” Jin grumbled, but he accepted the paper.
He spent the rest of the day avoiding Gohyun, taking his work into closets or stairwells to keep his boss from pinning him down for another late night. Amazingly, he made it all the way to five o’clock without getting caught, and he slipped out of the building without being spotted by anyone. “Finally,” he sighed, enjoying the sight of the twilight sky. Incheon was bustling with people going home from work or heading into the city for a night out, but Jin was doing neither. He fished the address of the shop out of his pocket and started down toward the bus stop.
The shop Ha Hee Bon had mentioned was ten minutes away by bus and little better than a pawn shop, with worn linoleum floors and wood-paneled walls that were stained with cigarette tar. Jin did see some furniture in the window that looked alright, so he went inside to have a look around.
“Welcome sir,” the cashier said, giving him a bow that revealed the bald spot on his head. “Looking for anything in particular? I have some nice jewelry, just brought in.”
“Got any bed frames?” Jin asked.
The cashier seemed disappointed, but walked Jin over to the rest of the furniture. “Got a king missing some slats, a set of metal bunk beds and two army cots,” he said, gesturing at the items in question.
“How much for one of the bunk beds?”
“Not sold separately. You must buy both.”
Jin was annoyed. “You really think you’re gonna get someone to buy two rickety metal beds?” he demanded. “You’ll be stuck with them forever. How much for one?”
The cashier folded his arms. “Three hundred thousand won,” he replied.
Jin really didn’t want to spend that much on a rusty bottom bunk. “How about the cots?” he asked, glancing at those. They looked to be in reasonable condition, but he didn’t much relish the thought of sleeping on one every night.
“Four fifty.”
Jin bit back a curse. “I think I’ll browse a little more.”
The cashier returned to his post and Jin worried his lip. The king wouldn’t fit in his tiny room, but he couldn’t make the other options fit into his budget. After rent and his other bills, he had just enough to feed himself and Jar-Jar, plus one or two extra expenses like prescriptions or a new shirt. He needed to think.
He left the bed frames for the moment and wandered around the store, pretending to shop as he mentally took apart his budget. If I buy discounted meat for Jar-Jar instead of cat food… or maybe if I didn’t pay the cable bill this month…
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Even with little sacrifices like that, it was simply too much to pay for a bed. He turned to leave, then caught sight of something shiny hanging on the far wall. Further inspection revealed it to be a large, ornate mirror that had once been polished wood, but was stained and warped by time. The glass itself, however, was bright and clear, and Jin saw his reflection gaping back at him. He wanted to touch it, so he approached and traced his fingertips on the wooden frame. There was something about the mirror that was drawing him, almost as if it vibrated with an unseen energy. His image seemed to become even sharper and clearer as he looked at it, and everything else began to melt away…
“No touching!”
Jin started and dropped his hand, immediately losing the thread of energy. “How much?” he murmured.
The cashier raised an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted a bed frame, now you want a mirror?”
“How much?”
“Forty-seven thousand.”
It was doable, but it would mean keeping his mattress on the floor for a few weeks. “Done,” he said, turning to look the cashier in the eye.
After paying, Jin carefully lifted the mirror off the wall. It was heavier than it looked, and was at least three feet in height, making it awkward to carry. He finally settled on turning it on its side and wrapping his arms around the frame, then he began the long trek to the subway station.
The mirror proved to be even more cumbersome on the steps down into the station, and Jin had a difficult time getting it between the subway doors and onto the crowded car. Several passengers gave him sidelong looks as he wrestled it past them, but he pretended not to notice and found a place to stand, one hand on the rail and the other clutching the mirror. The energy continued to thrum through his fingers, making him shiver with a strange excitement. He couldn’t fathom why, but the longer he had it the more convinced he was that he was meant to possess it.
After arriving at his stop, Jin carried the mirror up to the street and made his way back to his apartment building as quickly as possible. The streets would be even more dangerous with him being burdened by such a large item and he didn’t want to lose it to some smackhead, but he arrived at the building unmolested and wasted no time in getting it up to his apartment. The six flights of stairs were especially arduous, and he banged into the walls more than once, but eventually he was at his own door. He shoved it open with his usual shouldering and ferried the mirror inside. Jar-Jar was underfoot instantly, meowing with pleasure to have his friend home so early.
“Watch out, Jar-Jar!” Jin grunted, trying not to trip over the cat as he carried the mirror to his bedroom. The mattress was a sad sight on the floor, but he ignored it for the moment and set the mirror gently against the wall. It looked even bigger in his tiny room, reflecting the light of the street lamps outside onto the ceiling, and Jin sat on the mattress as he gazed at it. What is it about this mirror? he wondered. His reflection showed a tall man with black hair, sitting on a worn mattress with his arms clasped around his knees. His skin glowed in the yellow light, and his dark eyes bore into the mirror under furrowed brows. He’d always been considered handsome by his acquaintances, but work and worry had made him thin and put shadows under his eyes. His suit was thin too and wrinkled from his efforts, and his dress shoes had been resoled a dozen times, though they were buffed beautifully.
I’m not being vain, am I? he thought suddenly. Why else would someone buy a mirror, if not to look at themselves?
Jar-Jar appeared and jumped into his lap, looking up at him inquisitively with pale blue eyes. “I’m not sure why I bought it either,” Jin said, answering the imagined question. “I feel like there’s something about it that’s significant to me, like I was… meant to have it.”
Something flashed in the mirror and Jin quickly looked up, but all he saw was his reflection absently petting Jar-Jar’s back. Jar-Jar leaped down from his lap and cautiously approached the mirror, eyeing the other cat as it followed his every move. Jar-Jar nosed along the frame for several seconds, then tried to bat the reflection away without success. Jin watched him play like this for a while, enjoying Jar-Jar’s antics. If I didn’t have him, I’d probably go insane, he told himself.
The mirror flashed again and Jar-Jar sprang back as if he’d been shocked. Jin’s heart thundered in his chest and he fell back onto the mattress, unable to tear his eyes from the mirror. That time he was sure of it: he’d seen another pair of eyes looking at him from within the mirror.
Maybe I’m already insane.

Notes