It was 10.46 pm. Not too late, but not early either. Usually people hadn’t slept yet, but I was not in the middle of the Seoul which never sleeps. Where I was now, was at a riverside at the edge of the city people prefer called a village. There weren’t so many people here at this time. Thus, I was almost alone - sitting in front of my bike, trying to fix it. Its chain broke. I was usually good at fixing my bike when the chain loosened, but since it was broken, there was almost nothing I could do, so the only way I could get home was by walking. But it needed at least an hour to get home by walking, and using bike, I could save time up to a half hour. Oh, and, energy too. I wonder if there would be someone passing by that would gladly help, but I’d been sitting here for 15 minutes, and there hadn’t been a sign of people passing by. My dad would’ve been worried.

 

From where I was sitting, I could see the city lights across the river – the Seoul. Tall buildings. Skyscrapers. I could almost hear cars honking, music playing loudly, people chattering, but they were only in my head. I could imagine big monitors displaying things. Advertisements, campaigns, music videos, beautiful actresses or idols – all that people talked about. All that they pictured in magazines, newspaper, or internet. All that wasn’t here.

 

I looked at my watch once again, and it had passed 20 minutes. If I waited any longer for my bike, it would be just as long as walking home anyway. So I stood up, ready to walk my bike home, when a light suddenly blinded me and I heard a sound of vehicle. A car. It stopped when it was about two meters away from me, and then the light turned off, and someone stepped out.

 

“You need help?” He asked.

 

“Uh.” I looked up, and blinked. It needed time for my eyes to adjust because of his car’s lamp earlier, but after some seconds I could see a man standing in front of me. He seemed to be about my age, 27 or older, but I couldn’t see clearly because he wore a mask. And glasses. He was wearing a black jacket over a white t shirt, and shorts. Not too shorts. Just under the knees. I wonder why he wore mask when he was using a car. It wasn’t like he would get polluted in any way, being in the car.

 

“Is it broken?” He asked again, examining my bike.

 

“I guess. The chain. I could’ve fixed it if the chain loosened, but it was broken.”

 

“I see. You haven’t called anyone to help?”

 

“My phone died.”

 

“Oh..” He said, then, seeming to think for a couple of second, “Do you want to borrow my phone? Or do you want to charge your phone in my car? I mean, I would charge it for you. I have my power bank but it’s off so...”

 

I was thinking… His voice sound so friendly. And good to hear. I could imagine him singing with that voice. He could be a great singer.

 

“Oh and I am not a bad person, if you might think about it.” He chuckled, but I was surprised because I hadn’t thought about that.

 

I smiled. “May I? I hope it won’t be too troublesome if I borrow your phone.”

 

“No, of course not.” He said, then gave his phone to me. It surprised me that he just let me borrow his phone despite him not knowing me. “Here.”

 

“Thank you.” I said.

 

I dialed my father’s number, and I told him where I was and that my bike broke. His voice sounded so worried so I told him I was okay, someone was helping me. He said he would come getting me and I said I would wait.

 

I returned the phone to the man, who was already sitting a meter beside me, and was now looking across the river.

 

“Thank you for the phone. My dad will come to pick me.” I said. He smiled, and I thought he was saying okay through the smile, but then I realized the wrinkle just around his eyes that told me he was probably more than 30. I hadn’t seen it because it was behind the glasses.

 

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” He asked while looking away. “There, it was so crowded. So many people, so many noises, so many demands. It is as if people never sleep. People wake up thinking about works, and sleep thinking about works too.”

 

It took a while before I realized he was talking about Seoul, the city.

 

“Hm,” I mumbled, “Probably. Are you from there?”

 

He nooded.

 

I bit my lower lip. I didn’t know what to talk about after that, and he seemed to be in deep of thinking by himself that I thought I wouldn’t bother. He was probably from the city, seemingly tired from work, and went here just to get some fresh air. I had seen some people like him before, but I had never seen him.

 

Suddenly he sighed, and said, “It’s suffocating sometimes.”

 

I looked at him, not knowing what to say. Then I asked, “What is your name?”

 

It was a simple question people would ask to someone you just met, but to my surprise, he seemed taken aback. Not that he jumped out of surprise or anything, but his eyebrows rose and his eyes were full of wonder, I wondered. It was as if he couldn’t believe I just asked his name.

 

“So you don’t know me.” He said, and this time it was my turn to raise my eyebrows. He took of his mask and glasses, as if showing me his face so that I would know.

 

I didn’t.

 

“Oh, sorry!” I bit my lip. My mistake. “I don’t quite remember names. I guess it is something I’m really bad at.” I said.

 

It was true, though. I didn’t quite remember names. But I was sure I remembered impressions. First encounters. First awkward glances. First talks with stutter or without stutter. First saying names though later I might forget. Usually, I remembered the turning point when the word acquaintance became friend. How I could get along well with people I barely know, and why I would stay and not scared of someone in the first place. Most of the times I remembered their stories or how people broke my wall and let me tell them my stories, but not names. So I tried to remember his story that was probably in me, or our encounter before this or any impressions, but I couldn’t find any. Have we actually met before? Did I forget him? Or was he someone important? Someone famous? Should I have known his name?

 

After seconds of thinking and I found no answer, I decided to ask him, cautiously. “Have we... ever… met before?”

 

“Oh, no, no.” He said, chuckling, and I sighed out of relief. “But I believe most people know me, though.”

 

So he is someone important.

 

“Sorry.” I said.

 

“No, it’s okay, though. It’s somehow relieving.” He said, and then he sighed too. I must’ve done something terribly wrong, I thought. But just like what he said, his sigh sounded as if he was relieved, rather than annoyed or disappointed. Then he chuckled again, and I thought it was so real, and he said, “It’s kind of good, I guess?”

 

“Me not knowing your name?” I asked, bewildered. “How is that relieving when I should’ve known?”

 

“Oh, no, I mean, it is not that you should’ve known. It is not like everyone should’ve known either.” He said.

 

“My name is not important.” He said. Then, “What’s yours?”

 

“Sarang.” I said.

 

“Sarang as in, the word ‘love’?” He asked. “Like, saranghae, Sarang?”

 

“Yes, like saranghae, Sarang.”

 

“It’s beautiful.” He said, and I smiled.

 

“Your name – it must be just as beautiful.” I said.

 

He chuckled again, but said, “But of course. Of course.”

 

I kept quiet. Then something caught my eyes, something shining from his hands. It was a ring. Probably because it reflected the light from street light, so it shined. Only seconds. But as I noticed, I took a look at it.

 

There was a name written on it: Lee teuk.

 

I frowned.

 

“So your name is Lee Teuk?” I asked.

 

“What?”

 

I pointed his ring. “It’s written there. Your ring. It says Lee Teuk. Is your name Lee Teuk?”

 

He laughed.

 

“That’s cheating.” He said, and he looked at me with a big smile on his face, which confused me because this one didn’t seem so real. Not as real as his chuckle before. Not as real as his sigh before.

 

“But it is not my name.”

 

“Oh,” was the only thing that came out from my mouth, as I honestly didn’t know how to respond. It was either a laugh or an ‘oh’, when I didn’t know what to say, but this wasn’t something I should’ve laughed about, I supposed.

 

“Like I said, my name is not important. People forget, anyway. Lee Teuk is probably a name that people remember. But mine, it’s not. I have lived almost half of my life being Lee Teuk. It might as well that when the time comes, I will forget my name too. And it’s scary. Have you ever seen people with Alzheimer, or dementia? Once, I visited a social place for elderly, most of which suffer from dementia. Some are sent to hospital for better treatment, but some others, those with mild symptoms aren’t. My late grandmother suffered from dementia, too. And it’s scary. I mean, not them, but what the disease has caused them. As the symptoms progress, they are becoming less and less of who they are. Have you ever thought of losing your memory?”

 

I shook my head.

 

Lee Teuk smiled, but it was so slight I thought it was not. “I am not suffering from Alzheimer, but I have all these papers with my name written on it, as big as what I can read from at least 2 meters, glued on the wall of my room. I woke up in the morning and the first thing I do is looking at myself in the mirror, reciting my name – reminding myself of who I am. Of who I really am. I have lived so many days as Lee Teuk, and I’m scared that just like those people suffering from dementia, I will forget my name too. So I have decided that even though outside my house I live as Lee Teuk, in my house, I will still be me.”

 

I kept silent. That was a story. Not a long one, but it was still a story. It meant things for him, and because he told me, it meant something to me. I looked at him thinking what to say, then, despite knowing so little about him, I supposed I got a glimpse of what he was meaning. I said, “To me, that only proves that your name is important.”

 

“Yes, for me.”

 

I looked away. Life could be so unpredictable. With so many stories untold, we would only understand so little if we listen so little.

 

“Will you tell me some more stories? That way, I will remember you. I mean, I shall remember you, for I have known your stories. I said I at remembering names. But I can make sure I remember stories.”

 

Lee teuk laughed. He looked at me. “That’s not fair. Your name is too easy to remember. Sarang - everyone practically call your name every day. Saranghae. Saranghae. It is in so many songs. So many poems. It is basically what we live for.”

 

“It’s true. But only so few mean it when they call me Sarang.” I said. “You know? When my father call me, I know he always means it. It feels as if he gave me my name because he knew he would love me. But other people, they simply call me Sarang because that is my name. See?”

 

Lee teuk stared at me.

 

“Since my name is too easy to remember, there is no story you need to remember to be able to know me. I’d meet people and they would say, “Ah, you’re the one with the name love, Sarang, right?” They wouldn’t even remember when we met for the first time, when I told them my name. They wouldn’t think for a second, like “Wait I know you from a friend of mine,” or “We met somewhere, in this or that place, Sarang, right?” something like that. You won’t remember you know my name because my bike is broke and you happen to help me, here, but you remember my name because the name itself appear first in your memory, doesn’t it?”

 

“I guess I will still remember helping you here, and how you talk to your father so politely, and how you found the name Leeteuk from my ring, and how you ask me stories.”

 

I smiled. “So?”

 

He chuckled, and as if defeated, he told me stories about him being a singer, in which I smiled and thought, “So he is actually a singer”, he told me why he become a singer and how he rarely went outside because people would ask him for pictures, or signature, or anything that made him feel less like himself. He told me he was a leader, with more than 10 people in the group, those that I didn’t remember the names yet – I promised him I would look for it, and he laughed. He told me why he left the city for a while, and other things and other things, and he told me he trusted me to listen and not to tell his story to anyone. He told me I could look for more about him from the internet, but he told me he preferred if I didn’t because that would only make him feel less of himself and I laughed, and he told me his name. His name is Park Jung Soo.

 

“That means outstanding.” I said.

 

“How do you know?”

 

“My sister name is Eun Soo. Soo means outstanding, isn’t it? I know just as much.”

 

“That’s right.” He said.

 

I said, "You live up to your name right."

 

"I hope so."

 

Just then, I heard my father’s car’s sound and then the light came, and he stopped just beside Jung Soo’s car. He came to me running and asked if I had waited for a long time. I told him I didn’t, and beside, Jung Soo is helping me, so I wasn’t alone. He said thanks to Jung Soo a couple of times, in which Jung Soo replied by bowing and said it was okay.

 

We bade goodbye at last. I thanked him once again and said it was nice to meet you, and he said, it was nice to meet you too, Sarang, and that he hoped to see me again and I smiled.

 

I might not be good at remembering names. But I remembered stories. First ecounters, first saying names though later I might forget. I remembered meeting him because my bike was broken and he helped me, and how I asked him his name though later I might forget. But I supposed I would remember his name well.