WAMB Chapter 1.3

While Sewon was away in the restroom, a large group must have entered, because the line had noticeably shortened. Sewon approached the man’s side with brisk, light steps and stood next to him. As they lined up side by side, an awkwardness crept in belatedly.

The man merely gave Sewon, who had returned, a brief nod of acknowledgment, asking nothing. Glancing sidelong at the man, Sewon broke the silence first.

“Are you Korean?”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and regret followed immediately after.

‘Are you Korean?’

It hit him too late that this was one of the worst lines people hated hearing while traveling.

“Yes.”

The man turned his head to look at Sewon as he answered. His low, resonant voice was pleasant to the ear—a tone that matched his face perfectly.

“Did you come here alone?”

‘Shut up, Gong Sewon.’

Sewon regretted it again. He’d meant to break the awkwardness, but it sounded like he was prying. Thankfully, the man didn’t seem to mind much.

“Something like that. I’m here on a business trip and had some time to kill…”

The man slipped the book he’d been holding into his bag. It was a fleeting moment, but the familiar cover caught Sewon’s eye, and he recognized it instantly—Orhan Pamuk’s essay, Istanbul.

“I’m not usually… you know, the talkative or sociable type,” Sewon said. “But while traveling, I wanted to act differently. Try new things… That’s why I asked.”

‘It’s not like I’m digging for personal info or anything…’ he added in a small voice. After finishing his excuse-like explanation, Sewon lowered his head, avoiding the man’s gaze. The man, who had been watching him, spoke.

“That’s the same as me.”

“…You mean the not-talking-much part?”

Sewon, looking visibly deflated, lifted his face to ask.

“No, the latter.”

“Oh…”

Wanting to act differently while traveling.

Sewon had thought it was a childish resolution, something only he—a first-time solo traveler abroad—would make. It was surprising to hear someone else had the same thought.

Especially a man who didn’t seem like he’d ever uttered a wistful word in his life.

“I talk all day for work, so… I tend to get quiet otherwise. I won’t be an entertaining companion.”

“Oh…”

The man’s lips curved slightly upward as he spoke. It felt like he was seeking understanding while subtly drawing a line.

The people in line began moving forward. This time, though, no one shoved Sewon’s back or grumbled behind him.

“Didn’t the people behind us say anything?” Sewon asked the man, lowering his voice.

“They did say something… but I couldn’t understand it.”

Sewon couldn’t tell what conversation had passed between the man and the group behind them, but it was clear the man had come out on top in the silent standoff. It made sense—he towered over the others by a full head, his height imposing.

“Thanks for holding my spot.”

“Did you put out the urgent fire okay?”

“…Yes.”

Thank you again, Sewon added in a small voice.

“Good to know.”

A hint of playfulness colored the man’s tone. Oddly, despite not being talkative or overly warm, he managed to steer the conversation without making it feel awkward. The creaking awkwardness was Sewon’s alone.

“Um…”

“Yes?”

“You can speak casually if you’d like.”

“You’re calling me seonsaengnim and telling me to speak casually. Do I look that old?”

The man ran a hand over his face as he spoke, his tone teasing. Sewon, thinking he’d made a blunder, grew flustered.

“No! It’s not that. You just… feel mature. People my age are…”

“Not like me?”

His lips curved further into a smile.

“…Yeah.”

“You’re too honest.”  

The man let out a bright laugh this time. Between his parted lips, neat teeth flashed. His features were so perfectly sculpted they almost seemed inhuman. His first impression had been cold, but when he smiled with his eyes crinkling, it was the complete opposite. Meeting his gaze, Sewon felt his throat burn again.

After a long wait, they finally slipped off their shoes and stepped into Hagia Sophia. The soft texture of the carpet brushed against their soles.

As grand as its exterior promised, the mosque’s interior was vast. Tour groups from around the world sat in clusters, listening to their guides. Every so often, an excited “Wow!” echoed from someone’s awestruck face.

It’s said that Emperor Justinian, the conqueror of the Eastern Roman Empire, gazed at the completed beauty of Hagia Sophia during its consecration and exclaimed:

“Solomon, I have surpassed you!”

But the rich, intricate decorations and murals that had moved the emperor were plundered after defeats in war, buried beneath layers of plaster.

Sewon tilted his head back to take in the massive dome and the windows where sunlight shattered inward. Large circular plaques bearing the names of Allah, Muhammad, and other Islamic leaders stood guard along the walls of the main hall.

Memories of cramming with Jaehee for the “Turkish Culture and Art” exam flickered through his mind. Seeing with his own eyes what he’d only read in texts didn’t stir as much emotion as he’d expected.

And that felt wrong to him.

In a place woven with complex history and intersecting civilizations, he thought he should gain some profound insight. At the very least, he ought to marvel at the architectural ingenuity that had sustained the colossal dome for over a millennium. Watching the reverent expressions of passing tourists, Sewon turned to the man.

“…What do you think?”

The man’s gaze, which had been tracing the dome and walls, slowly descended. It settled on the ornate glass lanterns, crafted as if bands of clouds floated within them. He answered, still staring.

“It’s dazzling.”

A simple, unadorned response.

Sewon recalled a line from the essay the man had been holding—Orhan Pamuk’s Istanbul:

“We’ve grown accustomed to understanding the meaning of what we experience in life through others.”

Along with it came fragments of memories—tearing his hair out with Jaehee over the original text and its translation for a report.

Sewon had wanted to absorb the evaluations of others about Hagia Sophia—its uniqueness, its overwhelming majesty. He felt an obligation to do so.

That’s why the man’s plain reaction struck him as intriguing. It even brought a small revelation: ‘You can say it like that.’

“What do you think?” the man asked.

“It’s just… really big. Shiny.”

“Yeah. Must’ve cost a fortune.”

Sewon, gazing at the man’s profile, asked as if entranced, “Um… could I ask your name?”

“Well, that’s…”

The question seemed to catch the man off guard, and he hesitated.

“Oh, it’s fine if it’s inconvenient.”

Noticing the man’s reluctance, Sewon quickly waved his hands, adding, I shouldn’t have asked. A pang of self-reproach hit him.

“There’s a reason… Sorry.”

“…”

The man ended the exchange politely and lifted his gaze to survey the interior again. Sewon watched his profile, feeling like he was observing a scene from a movie. Sensing his stare, the man slowly turned toward him.

“Memories from a trip should stay at the destination.”

He smiled at Sewon, his eyes curving.

The words—implying no intent to continue this connection—didn’t feel harsh. Sewon was simply impressed by how someone could refuse so gently without bruising feelings. ‘Is this the tact of a mature adult?’ he wondered, stepping forward.

Leaving Hagia Sophia, Sewon and the man ended up visiting Sultan Ahmed Mosque together by chance. Their paths just naturally aligned.

The interior of Sultan Ahmed Mosque was adorned with blue tiles, earning it the nickname “Blue Mosque.” They entered with the crowd, but construction work dulled the experience, preventing them from fully appreciating its beauty.

Pushed out by the throng, a wave of hunger hit them as the tension eased. Checking his watch, the man mentioned he had plans that afternoon. Deciding to grab lunch before parting ways, they walked together down a street lined with restaurants.

“I’ll treat you.”

Worn out by the hawkers, they stopped at a fast-food joint. Standing before the menu board picking out burgers, Sewon turned to the man. It was a gesture of thanks for holding his spot earlier, but the man’s expression suggested he’d heard an amusing joke.

“I might be too ‘mature’ to let you buy me food.”

“The maturity I meant isn’t about looking old…”

“Thanks to you, I saved time waiting in line. Let me treat you.”

“It’s just a burger… I can—”

“Exactly. It’s just a burger.”

Before Sewon could protest, the man handed a sleek black card to the cashier. The employee, watching their back-and-forth with a bored look, swiftly processed the payment.

Insisting on at least fetching the food himself, Sewon returned with a confident stride, tray in hand. The man, who’d shed his coat and sat waiting, observed him closely.

“…What?”

“You didn’t spill it. Impressive.”

The man spoke as if it were a grand achievement, though it was the most obvious thing. Sewon set the tray of burger sets on the table.

“Should I pour the fries?”

The man gave a slight nod. With a shhhk, Sewon dumped the fries into a shared pile for both of them.

Unwrapping his burger, the man lifted the bun and neatly placed a few fries atop the patty. Sewon, unwrapping his own, lit up with recognition.

“You eat your burger with fries too?”

“It’s easy and tastes good.”

The man tilted his head toward his burger. Watching him, Sewon smiled faintly. He then arranged his own fries in a crisscross pattern inside his bun.

The man—who looked like he’d be more at home slicing steak with a fork and knife—ate his burger with relish. It was just a burger, yet something about his ordinary act drew Sewon’s gaze.

A presence that naturally pulled eyes, even when still. Sewon knew one other person like that—Han Jaehee.

“My friend doesn’t like eating it this way,” Sewon said, masking a bitter edge as he took a big bite of his burger.

“Really? It’s not that unusual a preference.”

“Hmm… You’re the first person I’ve met—besides me—who eats it like this.”

“So polite. Is it because you’re calling me seonsaengnim?”

“…No, it’s just more comfortable for me.”

Sewon, suddenly embarrassed, took another large bite.

‘Am I that hungry…?’

He stared at his burger, already half-gone. A pang of regret hit him over its shrinking size—though whether it was about the food or parting with this brief companion, he couldn’t tell.

Swallowing the bite that had filled his cheeks, he noticed the man watching him intently. The man crumpled his wrapper.

“Your friend,” he said.

“Yes?”

Lifting his downcast gaze, the man looked at Sewon.

“Doesn’t know what’s good.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up.

“…Right?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it taste good like that? It doesn’t look great.”

Jaehee’s offhand comment had entirely stopped Sewon from eating burgers in front of him. The man couldn’t know this trivial history, but his words felt like validation—as if Sewon’s choice wasn’t wrong.

“Well, I’ll get going then. Thanks for the burger,” Sewon said, bowing slightly to the man.

Each time Sewon showed courtesy, the man couldn’t quite hide a faint smile.

“Sure. Enjoy your trip.”

With a brief farewell, the man headed toward the road to catch a taxi. Staying at the same hotel, they might cross paths again. But for now, they parted without leaving room for more.

Sewon turned and walked aimlessly until he stopped. His next stop was Yerebatan Sarayı¹, but the route was confusing. Opening a map app, he frowned in concentration.

‘The hotel’s behind me now…’

“Left, then?”

It seemed like left, but seeing tourists heading up the hill to the right made him second-guess.

Truth be told, Sewon was terrible with directions.

Spinning in place as he puzzled it out, the app’s compass spun with him. Then, someone tapped his shoulder twice. Instinctively clutching his bag, Sewon turned—and there stood the man he’d just left.

“Oh, I thought you’d gone…”

The man let out a haah, a deep breath as if he’d rushed over.

“Didn’t want the kid to get lost.”

His voice was so soft Sewon had to strain to hear, muttering something like, ‘Couldn’t leave if I tried.’

“Kid?”

“…”

“…You mean me?”

Sewon’s eyes widened as he asked, and the man replied calmly.

“See any other kids around?”

Just then, a baby in a stroller passing by wailed, “Waaah!”

“Guess not.”

Even with a real “kid” rolling by, the man maintained his deadpan tone, unfazed. His absurd seriousness made it hard to laugh outright.

“I’m… not that young, you know.”

“You look young to me, seonsaengnim.”

Worried the man might call him “kid” again—a term that tickled awkwardly—Sewon hurried to ask, “Didn’t you say you had plans this afternoon?”

“I had a scheduled call, but it got pushed back before I could get a taxi. Thought you’d be long gone by now… but you’re still here.”

“Yeah… Somehow.”

“Followed someone and got lost?”

The man raised an eyebrow, finishing Sewon’s sentence. It felt like he was teasing, “See? You’re a kid,” and Sewon felt the need to defend himself.

“I’m not lost. Just a bit confused about directions, so I was checking the map. Look.”

“You said you’re going to Yerebatan Underground Cistern, right?”

“Yeah.”

Sewon nodded, and the man stepped beside him. They peered at the map together.

“…The hotel’s back there, so right should be it. Seeing everyone heading that way, looks like another line.”

“You’re really good with directions.”

Sewon inwardly marveled at how quickly the man figured it out.

“Let’s go.”

Without hesitation, the man started walking, and Sewon scurried to keep up.

Like every tourist spot in Istanbul, a long line stretched before the ticket booth at Yerebatan Sarayı, the so-called underground palace. A must-visit site, it was fortunately less crowded than Hagia Sophia.

“About thirty minutes, huh,” the man said.

“That’s not too bad…”

Sewon trailed off, eyeing the queue.

“Did you study the places you’re visiting today?”

The man’s gaze flicked to Sewon’s phone. The screen showed a still from an action movie filmed at Yerebatan Sarayı, nicknamed the underground palace.

No need to hide it—Sewon showed him. His notes app was filled with a detailed itinerary and travel tips meticulously gathered online.

“It’s just a simple plan and some info. Like… there are over three hundred columns here, and since construction was rushed, they were taken from various temples. So each column has a different architectural style… Stuff like that. I figured knowing this would help with sightseeing.”

“…”

“What?”

“Just… you’re smart?”

‘Smart…’

 

Sewon’s brow furrowed. Nearing graduation, he was treated like a “fossil” at school, yet here he was being called “kid” and “smart.” The man’s labels felt foreign. Unsure if he was being teased, Sewon’s lips nearly pursed in protest.

“I came to Istanbul as a kid with my mother,” the man said.

“Oh…”

“I almost fell trying to look at the upside-down Medusa head in the cistern. Other memories have faded, but that one sticks. I can’t ask her about it, so I came to check.”

“…”

The man, who’d hesitated even to share his name, offered Sewon a sliver of personal memory. He didn’t seem to mind Sewon’s lukewarm response.

“She was really into history, dragged me everywhere as a kid—domestic, international, you name it.”

“Wow… That’s cool.”

“She was. Cultured, too.”

He ended the sentence in the past tense, his voice dipping ever so slightly. Sewon wondered if the man’s mother, like his own, had passed—but he didn’t ask.

“Oh…”

“Since you’re traveling…”

Sensing the mood shift, the man started to ask Sewon something when a group of tourists brushed by. Pushed inward, their fingertips grazed each other.

“Sorry…”

“My apologies…”

No need to debate who spoke first—the apologies overlapped. The brief warmth from that fleeting touch felt like a burn.

Sewon looked up, and their eyes met in midair, closer than before.

At that moment, Sewon realized he was overly conscious of the man. Liking a friend—a male friend—was a secret he kept to himself. Normally, this level of contact between guys shouldn’t matter. It was barely a “touch,” more a brush.

Determined to act unfazed, he met the man’s gaze—but his words caught in his throat. The air felt denser, different.

As Sewon fumbled silently, the man’s phone buzzed. Excusing himself, he stepped away to answer.

“Yeah, yeah. No. A week.”

Sewon’s eyes drifted toward him, drawn like a magnet.

“Took vacation time. Right… The stuff I shared, the director… Yeah, see you then.”

Piecing together the snippets, it sounded work-related. Sewon tried not to eavesdrop.

Finishing the call with a gentle tone, the man returned.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.”

Sewon forced a smile. After glancing at his screen, the man tucked his phone into his coat pocket and picked up his earlier question.

“You’re here traveling?”

“…Yeah. Sort of.”

‘Travel.’

Rolling the word around in his mouth, Sewon echoed the man’s earlier phrasing.

“Sort of?”

“It’s less a trip… more like running away.”

His answer carried a mix of frustration and unease.

“Running from what?”

“Just… stuff. Thinking about dealing with it when I get back feels overwhelming.”

His mother’s death, his unrequited crush on a close friend, tangled family issues, and job interviews—recalling what he’d left behind in Korea felt like a stone pressing on his chest.

“Did you get into some trouble? You don’t seem the type.”

“Not like that…”

“No impulsive crimes driven by revenge, right? If I’m wrong, I’ll apologize for calling you a kid.”

Or not, he added. Sewon laughed aloud. The man silently watched his crescent-shaped eyes crinkle with mirth.

“No. I bombed a final interview this week and a second-round one at another company…”

“Hmm.”

“I’m trying not to dwell on it. I’ll figure out a job somehow.”

Sewon forced nonchalance, hiding his fear and regret.

“That’s cool.”

“It’s just wandering… Is that cool?”

Jaehee had called him crazy, but this man said it was cool. The contrast was striking. Honestly, Sewon agreed more with Jaehee’s take. Feeling awkward, he clenched and unclenched his hands.

“They say humans wander as long as they strive.”

“Ooh…”

Sewon let out an involuntary gasp—not just at the quote, but at how the man delivered it so naturally, without a hint of pretension.

“Read it somewhere. Memorized it to sound cool.”

“I…”

As Sewon started to speak, the man turned. Sunlight cut through the crisp air, illuminating his face. Meeting his deep brown eyes, Sewon blurted out the first thing that came to mind, skipping proper titles.

“You’re cool, seonsaengnim.”

The man chuckled. Murmuring “Seonsaengnim…” he looked at Sewon and said, “Better than ‘ahjussi,’ I guess.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that… If it’s okay, I’ll call you hyung-nim instead.”

“Hyung-nim’s a bit much.”

“Okay… Then hyung?”

Hearing this, the man paused, as if lost in thought, then shook his head. Even hyung seemed too heavy for him.

• ───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Once storing enough water for Constantinople’s citizens to use for three months, Yerebatan Sarayı now held only ankle-deep water. Modern lighting and sculptures dotted the space, delighting tourists’ eyes.

But Sewon couldn’t focus. The narrow paths between columns meant his fingertips and shoulders inevitably brushed the man’s as they walked. Trying not to care only made him more aware.

Sewon postponed his planned Topkapı Palace visit to the next day. The man, whose meeting had been canceled, naturally joined him for dinner.

Despite claiming his quiet nature wouldn’t make him a fun companion, he made Sewon laugh several times with few words.

“This way.”

The man nodded toward the opposite direction Sewon was heading.

“Oh…”

Sewon smiled sheepishly. Emerging from the metro, they walked silently toward the hotel. The man’s long strides led, and Sewon hustled to keep pace.

Nearing the hotel, the man pulled a cigarette pack from his pocket. The smoking area out front already had a few people puffing away, while others stood with hands in their pockets, chatting.

Oddly, every man there had a white bandage wrapped around his head. One had blood seeping through, startling Sewon when he noticed.

Relief at reaching the hotel without getting lost—or maybe exhaustion—hit him all at once. Planning to shower and prep for tomorrow, he bid the man farewell. The man had certainly contributed to his fatigue.

“Thanks for today.”

“Oh, heading in?”

“Yeah. Enjoy… your smoke.”

Sewon nodded. “Enjoy your smoke” didn’t feel quite right, but he couldn’t think of a better goodbye. Bowing again, he turned away.

Crossing the lobby to the elevator, the doors opened just as he arrived. He pressed the button for the fifth floor and stared blankly as they began to close. Then, a thunk—a hand slipped between the doors.

“Hey.”

They slid open, revealing a familiar voice. Sewon’s mouth parted slightly in recognition.

“…Huh?”

The man’s face appeared in the gap.

Stepping inside, he looked at Sewon. Exhaling shortly, he ran a hand through his hair and said, “I know this is a weird question… but I felt like I had to ask.”

“…”

“Where are you going tomorrow?”

The question didn’t seem to demand an answer—it was more a quiet murmur. Their eyes locked in the confined space.

Sewon swallowed hard, his throat dry again. Feeling calm, he recited his plans.

“Topkapı Palace, then over to Süleymaniye Mosque.”

His gaze caught the man’s hand—the same one that had brushed his earlier.

In it was an unlit cigarette, its tip bent.