12

not saying is the flower

(some things are better left unsaid)



 

Iwanu ga Hana
言わぬが花

(Silence is golden)

Since one can never really "take back" what one says, there's a golden chance of thinking through before opening one's mouth. Much harm and nonsense can result from ill-chosen words. Thus the philosophical observation that "not saying is the flower".

Since Baek So-Hyun was little, silence has always been the golden rule of her life.

She pulled her younger cousins to sleep so she can get more sweets from her uncle. She would wash the dishes after dinner without being asked (even when she's not on cleaning duty that day), letting her cousins throw pillows in the living room with a stomach full with that night's dinner. She won't complain for a birthday gift from her parents that never quite the same to what she has written down in the secret Santa's list (she's sure that's a vast difference between a ukulele and a tambourine) and didn't mind every few years of her birthday date being forgotten. Mother and father are too busy and all that jazz. Haven't even counted the brothers into the picture. They are demanding as they are loud, and she wonders when she will ever build up the guts to have a son for herself (is that how it's going to be like?)

The golden rule of silence and obedience that she always upheld so high above her head, So-Hyun likes to think of them as an insurance. For all the obedience and being a good daughter can make everyone cut her some slack if she were to make a mistake (deliberately or not). She can't be too careful. One is prone to making mistakes in their life, and she's saving all the slacks she can get.

Nevertheless, that doesn't stop her parents from forsaking her out of the house the moment a dream to become a musician came out of her lips. If you don't want to go to college, you have to get out of the house, get out of their life for the so-called profession she adamantly tried to convince them for the umpteenth time.

It turns out the silence, the obedience, are not enough savings for forgiveness for her decision and what she has chosen.

2 years ago.

roommate needed

Separated room

One kitchen

If interested, contact xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The yellow notice pasted on the bulletin board at the pedestal caught her eye. The notice caught her attention straight away. This is exactly what she's looking for, if she's not running short on bucks and this close to becoming homeless (not a really far fetched future). The rumble in her stomach is loud, and she feels like going to pass out at the sticky floor of a crummy bus stop in New York.

A chuckle entering her left ear.

She turned to find a blonde, skinny woman with a cane within her grasping area. "I notice you've been standing around the poster for quite a time." Her smile reminds So-Hyun of that one statue in the public park: solemn and subservient. No one really knows what's behind, as long as she sounds welcoming to her. This woman, she noticed, has been watching her for some time.

Of course she gets the white mist covering her retinas. The cane is telling enough. That doesn't change the fact that this woman has been watching her for some time. Perhaps nobody is to blame since she keeps dawdling in front of that notice, fidgeting right in her face.

"I'm sorry." She's about to leave before the woman calls again.

"I'm the one who posted that." Her intro falls nicely. "You seem to be interested."

A rush of embarrassment crept. "I… can't afford one right now."

"No problem. I won't be allowed to live in my own apartment if I can't find a roommate." A tinge of irony in her tone, and she's already on her own feet, her eyes unfocused and she extends a hand forward, a wobbly attempt at a handshake. "My name is Moon Byulyi."

After a moment of hesitation, the street musician shook that hand.

"Seori."

—

In a warm, shiny sunlight basking through the blinds of her own room, Seori retches a huge yawn and stretches her aching body: the result of three late-nights of busking. The Seori in the mirror stares back at her, showing the sunken bags under her eyes that she paid no mind to. She strips off the hoodie and exits her room with her sleep shirt.

Apartment's empty. Byulyi's out.

The older woman told her yesterday that she won't be able to prepare dinner. The woman lands her eyes on the toaster at the kitchen aisle before shaking her head, slithering to the refrigerator for a quick fix.

Pieces of colorful Cheerios pouring into the bowl, followed by a generous serving of full-cream milk, just how she likes it. Half-putting her phone away, she contemplates an email that she hasn't replied to, taking the phone again and tinkering while putting a spoonful of Cheerios into .

"Pick another card."

The professor is into this 'quirky' thing called Tarot. Apparently this practice is 'quirky' to Byulyi, for reasons she doesn't want to ponder on.

"What's the picture?"

Seori shrugged, rubbing the card with her thumb. "A man impaled with so many swords on his back…"

The sudden jolt and a gasp surprised Seori as well, causing her to panic for no reason. "What? What is it?!"

Byulyi asks how many swords are there.

"I