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There was an old statue in one of the empty corners of a museum near Yoo Jonghyuk’s school. It was not as popular as the others, people look at it once and move on to more interesting statues.
Demon King of Salvation, the statue was called. It is a sculpture of a man sitting on a train while holding a book. The bangs were cleverly crafted as to shadow his eyes and the aging stone was starting to chipped away at his fingers. As if he was slowly disappearing.
Yoo Joonghyuk found it one day when he was accompanying his little sister. Ever since then, he visits the statue everyday even if he was sick. Every visit felt like coming back to a warm home or being embraced in a hug. It’s like safety and protection and everything he ever wanted.
He doesn’t know why it enraptured him so much, this seemingly ordinary statue of a man reading a book. Maybe it’s the way his fingers looks like he’s tightly clutching the book, body slightly hunched to lean closer to the ink stuck to the pages.
One day, as usual, he sits at a nearby bench near the statue. A quite peace surrounding him when he began to wonder.
‘What was so interesting in the book for you to be so obsessed, Demon King of Salvation?’
He felt a little silly after that. This is a statue after all, not a real person. It can’t talk back to him.
“It does feel real, doesn’t it.” A woman’s voice startled him out of his musings. He didn’t realise he had asked the question out loud.
‘I didn’t hear her footsteps…Also, when did she sat down beside him?’
The woman, black hair barely past her shoulder and a distinctive mole right below her right eye, smiled at him. Her looks could be pass as a teenager, but the knowledge in her eyes and the confidence she held in her posture says otherwise.
“Ah, why would you think that?” He asked after her earlier statement.
The woman made an act of pondering. Eyes slightly narrowed and brows furrowed. After a minute of silence, she softly admits.
“Hmm, I don’t know.” Her eyes slowly gazing back to the statue.
“Maybe it reminds me of a silly friend of mine...” she quietly whispered. “He was a reader, you know. Always had a knack for stories.” Her eyes softened, perhaps reliving a certain memory.
“Lame, edgy ones were his favourite.” At this she turned her head towards him, a playful smile tugging at her red lips like a private joke only she could understand.
Strangely, he felt a little insulted.
“Uh…then if you don’t mind me asking, did he…?” He trailed off. Not wanting to be rude to someone he had just met.
She snapped her head towards him, wide eyes with disbelief. He fidgeted slightly when the woman began to tremble while staring at him. He isn’t very good at comforting crying people…
Suddenly, she laughed loudly. Like, actually clutching her stomach and guffawing like a madman (or madwoman, whatever, both still crazy.). Between her bouts of laughter, she spouts nonsense such as ‘Too OOC!’ and ‘This version is funnier than the obedient 1863rd!’.
Yoo Joonghyuk is a little concerned for himself. He scoots himself further away from her.
“Ah, sorry, sorry! Hahaha! Yah! I’m not insane, ok?? Don’t look at me like that!” He doubts her credibility about her own mental state so therefore the judgemental stare is not going away.
“Fine.” She huffed. “And to answer your last question, he didn’t die.” She looks way to confident for her next ridiculous statement.
“He’s just scattered into different worlds and it’s my job to bring him back!” She pointed at herself proudly. Fangs slightly showing as she smiled.
O-kay…
“I’m kidding!” She chuckled. Again, Yoo Joonghyuk wonders if there’s a few loose screws in her brain.
“Haa, sorry, sorry. Your expression is so funny.” The woman finally says after her laughter died down.”
“I do not volunteer to be your mere entertainment.” He huffed.
She smiled at that statement. And it’s a little strange of a smile, like something fond and bitter and sad. The corners of her mouth twitching to twist the smile into something wobbly and awkward.
“You aren’t.” she softly says. Maybe it’s a weird thing to feel, but her words comforted him in ways he couldn’t understand. The soft admission felt like soothing balm smeared onto old aching bruises that he didn’t know exists. It does not relief him of any pain, but it still made it a thousand times better than before.
Feeling a little embarrassed, he coughs.
“Ah, I never told you my name, didn’t I?” The woman bashed fully scratches her hair. “My name is Han Sooyoung. It’s nice to see kids these days appreciate a ‘boring’ statue.” Han Sooyoung rolls her eyes at the word boring.
He agrees. Demon King Of Salvation is never boring. Ever.
“Then, my name is-” Before Yoo Joonghyuk could continue, someone coughs behind them.
“My lady, it’s time.” A middle-aged man wearing a fedora standing a few feet behind them (what is up with everybody sneaking up on him today…) called out to her.
“Ah, my time is up. It’s been fun talking to you, kiddo.” Han Sooyoung got up from her sitting position and brushes of imaginary dusts from her blouse. She peered under her bangs at him.
“Goodbye, Yoo Joonghyuk. I hope you will continue to watch him.” She smirked. “He will never admit it, but he gets a little bit lonely sometimes.” After that cryptic statement, she ran off to the fedora man.
He watched, bewildered, at her disappearing back before realising that he hasn’t told his name to her yet.
Is it just him, or was there a faint laugh coming from the statue?