Russian Roulette (1)

Throughout the winter, I could hear the rustling of fallen leaves, and the bleak sound passing through my ear, like the wind, was warm. When I went out for a smoke in a thick coat so I wouldn’t feel cold, the weather was warmer than I thought, and I realized it was spring already. Also, it wasn’t just a passing season, it was like my homeland’s spring, the one I was used to.

Spring in Macau was like the humid summers back in my homeland. I didn’t take long to get used to it because, even if I didn’t have a good body, I could easily adapt anywhere as my lifestyle required to do so. Life was like a rolling leaf, it didn’t really stand out, and only consisted of falling from a big tree and just existing. Some said: Even if it’s your life, you’re just a supporting role for the main character in this world. You’re just bystander 1 or bystander 2.

The hero of the world wasn’t a person, but money.

The bank account, where the money came and went, followed the poor like a wheel they couldn’t escape from, and there was no reward for the sweating it cost. I would have blamed myself if I had spent even a penny of my huge debt, as there wasn’t anyone else I could blame. However, there was no law that allowed you to not pay back your debt just because it was unfair.

As soon as someone doesn’t repay their debt, an unknown body will be added to the sea of Macau, and their traces won’t be found anywhere in the world.

“Hey, boy.”1

The Portuguese manager snapped his thumb and index finger in front of my eyes.

“What did you think?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Boring guy. Do you have any plan for tomorrow?”

“I don’t. Why?”

The man who seemed to have thick Latin blood was called Betu2. The reason why we spoke different languages, yet understood each other, was because Betu used to have informal conversations with his ex-Korean lover.

I had never seen her before, but Betu must have been a bad lover because the best compliment he had been taught was “dickhead”. Seeing how she must have been heartbroken throughout the unrestrained relationship, it would be more like a cruel lover.

“There will be a VIP customer tomorrow, I need your help.”

“Is it someone on the list?”

“Myung-dan?”3

“Yes, list. If it’s someone on it.”4

“Yes, do you remember the big deal, when you got a holiday, the worst deal ever, that family, if you succeed you got 5 times more.”

“Got it.”

Betu’s Korean speaking was deficient, but his listening was excellent.

“Good boy.”

He had no intention to stop calling me ‘boy’ even after being corrected for years. Betu mocked me when I first stood at the baccarat table, saying, Where did you get this rookie? I learned about it after getting closer, that he thought I would be about 19 years old at most. Foreigners, especially Westerners, weren’t good at judging the age of Asians. On the other hand, it was the same for Asians. Just by his looks, Betu seemed to be in his early or mid-thirties, but he was actually four years younger than me.

Looking at the back of Betu, who started a phone call, I threw the cigarette that was almost finished on the ground.

Like a red light district, there were red signboards and filth on the ground with a musty smell contrasted with a large luxury resort in the distance. This must have been the feeling of the peasants looking at the castle where kings and aristocrats lived a long time ago. I didn’t even have a good body, so my thoughts were worthless.

I stopped thinking about taking out one more cigarette. There wasn’t anything more harmful than cigarettes on an empty stomach. When smoke filled deep into my lungs, my appetite would disappear, and it made me feel like a withered ancient tree.

The adjoining buildings were stifling because of the humidity. I could see a flowerpot among the clothes hanging on the veranda. It was too excessive to call the multi-unit building a villa, and while looking at it I could get a glimpse of the people living in it.

There were houses full of flower pots on the veranda, while there were also ones where plants dried up and damaged the view. Macau people were particularly interested in flowerpots. It could be because of the extreme humidity or it could be a kind of national habit.

From the bottom to the 7th and sideways to the 8th, they had nothing but laundry lines. I looked up at the veranda and frowned. Jahan, from next door, was breaking into my house from the veranda. Although there was only one step between the verandas, even monkeys sometimes fell from trees.

Tsk. I clicked my tongue while walking inside the building.

On the elevator, I felt the urge to puke, not knowing if I would really vomit or not. I frowned once more. My eyes were fixed on the lighted button that marked the seventh floor and I got off even before the elevator door was fully opened.

Viewed from the corridor, the villa was more detailed, colorful and bigger than what it looked on the outside. Those who enjoyed shopping wouldn’t know the existence of this place, as there was no way tourists would come to visit this dirty back alley.

Every night, Jahan enjoyed watching the laser show in this hallway. Reaching out to an unreachable green laser and flicking it like a conductor, hundreds of lasers moved from side to side according to the hand gestures. The show was renewed every three months, but Jahan memorized it in a week.

The flaw was that for being a smart guy, his sense of danger fell significantly behind. An example was this day, he decided to become a monkey who crosses the veranda.

“Welcome!”

The smiling Jahan welcomed me with the door wide open. In other people’s eyes, it would be better to start thinking about talking to the landlord to move out.

“If you jump over and fall, who will pay for your funeral?”

“Again with that. If I fall, who’s going to cry and call the heavens?”

“Shut up.”

I threw the cigarette case I was holding onto the table.

The table didn’t have one of it’s legs, so it was crooked. The cigarette case, which was sliding down the slope, frictioned and stopped. Nervous at when it would fall, Jahan soon after started to look at me.

The guy pulled down his sweatpants after loosening the strap on the waist. A half-erected penis appeared along with a rough intrigue to see if he didn’t even wear underwear. There was nothing to be embarrassed about even though it was a sudden situation. This was why Jahan crossed the veranda.

“Touch it, quick.”