A sharp pain woke Hyukjae up. He winced and growled, taking a few seconds to register that his empty stomach was complaining. That there was a mattress under him. He blinked to get rid of the tiredness, sitting up straight and examining his surroundings.

A small bedroom, rather plain, only the bed, a wooden desk, a narrow wardrobe and a big box under the single window.

Hyukjae shook his head, vaguely recalling what had happened: leaving Seoul and his whole life behind, his fiancee, Jungsoo...

He stopped thinking. It hurt too much.

He stood up and the pain in his stomach made him stumble. Not questioning the fact that he was shirtless, he left the room, walking down a narrow hall. The light bulbs were so he guessed night had fallen. Murmurs could be heard as he got closer to the main room and he hesitated, his chest tightening.

He was alone in an unfamiliar place. But now, all he could do was walk forward.

Pulling a slide door open, he found himself to what should be the living-room. Another door at his left and then two pairs of eyes focused on him. Burning with their intensity. A few awkward seconds of silence and the lady smiled and stood up.

"Go fetch him a sweater" she said to the young man beside her.

He - her son Hyukjae assumed - hurried past him, uncomfortably glancing at the stranger. The woman urged the black-haired man to sit down on the kitchen table, turning her back to pull plates out of cupboards. Hyukjae remained in his place, his heart beating faster and faster. He thought about leaving, the door right ahead from him looking like it lead outside. But the woman placed several dishes on the wooden table with the speed only a seasoned house-wife could acquire over the years. A bowl of steaming soup, fish, potato salad and buns stuffed with god-knows-what delicious things...

Hyukjae felt his mouth watering and his stomach roared. The woman smiled warmly once again.

"Come, come. Don't be embarrassed."

Patting his shoulder as he did sit, she pushed a small plate with pickled vegetables towards him. Just then, the young man came back, wordlessly handing him a stretched dark blue sweatshirt. Hyukjae wore it with a murmur of thanks and then picked up his chopsticks. Gratefully taking the first bite.

His eyes widened. Perhaps it was because of his famished state (he had last eaten a sandwich at the office yesterday afternoon) but the tastes exploded on his tongue, so beautifully balanced. Perhaps it was because he hadn't been offered food so kindly by a woman for quite a long time.

The lady nodded - satisfied with seeing the thin man enjoying her dishes - and sat on a chair, pulling her son on one too.

For a while, the only sounds filling the room were Hyukjae's munching and swallowing and no one complained about it. It took the man about twenty minutes to finish everything. He breathed deeply, his full stomach feeling weird after the sudden intake of food. Carefully putting the wooden sticks on the empty bowl, perfectly aligning them with his side of the table, he finally looked up to the woman. Her smile was still there.

A true smile. Hyukjae could tell. After all, he had lived most of his life among fake ones. He knew how to tell them apart.

He stood up and bowed from the waist to her.

"Thank you for the meal."

"Aigoo! Sit down, sit down!" she said with that heavy accent of the south, standing up half-way to push him back on his seat.

"No need for thanks. Anyone would do that!"

"Not where I come from..." he murmured and a grip appeared around his heart again.

"Where are you from?" questioned the lady, leaving the cleaning of the table for later.

Of course, the answer was Seoul. Where his soul had been born, burned, buried, revived and then torn all over again.

"Ahh... The big city..."

She shook her head, understanding the young man's sad and quiet complaint.

"How did you end up so far?"

Hyukjae breathed slowly through his nose. He should remain calm. Recall as less events of the past day - week, month, year, decade - as it was possible. He replied he was in need of vacation, the city had almost choked him.

"Yes, yes!"

The lady patted the table and nodded again. Few young people these days understood the better quality of small villages, away from the anonimity of the city, the filth, the lies, the burden.

"You made the right decision."

Did he now...

"But tell me son, your name is what?"

The way of speaking is really so much different...

"Lee Hyukjae, ma'am."

The woman laughed, her wrinkles lighting up her face as it stretched with her expression.

"Aigoo! Call me mother! And this one..." he turned to her left "is my son. Tch, so rude..."

She smacked the back of the young man's head.

"Ouch! 'Ma! What was that for?!"

"Introduce yourself, you brat!"

" 'Ma!"

He rubbed his aching head and quivered as she raised her hand again.

"Aah ok, ok! Aish..." he muttered and turned to the stranger.

"I'm Lee Donghae..."

Reluctantly outstretching his arm for a hand-shake - in fear of his mother eminent hand - he held his stare on Hyukjae, measuring him and reaching to a conclusion in just the couple of seconds they interacted.

And now that formalities are exchanged...

"I'm grateful mrs.Lee but I don't have money to pay you."

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