"Ah, merciful moon..."
"Whoa."
Convenience store clerk Kim Hyung-un paused midway through shifting the nighttime stock and stared up at the sky.
"Pretty."
He had no hobby of admiring the night sky. He wasn't that sensitive, nor did he have any refined aesthetic sense, but right now was an exception.
"It's crazy blue."
How could the moon be that shade of blue? It had an oddly mystical aura, and he ended up gazing at it for a good while until a customer's voice calling him snapped him back to reality.
'Must be some scientific reason for the change.'
After ringing up the purchase, he searched on his phone, and sure enough...
"So the moon looks blue when there's a lot of dust in the air?"
That was the end of his interest. Dealing with the influx of customers was more important than gawking at the weird moon, and this shop in a bustling district already got plenty of business even at dawn. Being Friday night on top of that meant he was run off his feet.
"Take care."
After handing over to the day shift worker, he was heading home with light steps when he stopped.
"Ugh."
There was a flower bed, and of all things, bees were buzzing around it. At the piercing wingbeat sound near his ear, he slowly backed away.
'Let's go around.'
Ever since getting badly stung by ground bees as a kid on a family grave visit, bees were still something he avoided.
[Just slap some soybean paste on it, and it'll heal right up!]
His swollen leg, his grandma smearing soybean paste on the wound, the raging fever all night, and the half-conscious doctor's words he overheard in the ER.
[If you'd been even a little later, it could've turned septic and killed you.]
That trauma left Kim Hyung-un hating both bees and soybean paste. There was a time when just the sound of wings would send him into a panic or the smell alone would make him break into cold sweats, but even now, with time dulling it to mere aversion rather than full-blown phobia, it was the same.
"I wish winter would hurry up. Then all the bees would freeze and die."
Back home, after showering, he sat down at his computer like any other young guy, but wrinkled his nose.
'Is someone boiling soybean paste stew nearby?'
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"The moon's blue again today."
While sorting stock, Kim Hyung-un looked up at the sky. The blue moon was even deeper and more vivid than yesterday, more beautiful, but somehow eerie.
'Maybe it just feels that way 'cause my day's been crap.'
He didn't even want to think about today. From morning, the hallway reeked of soybean paste, and three out of every ten customers stank of it too.
'Did a soybean paste soup joint open up? Or did some star chef drop a recipe using it?'
Not just that—walking down the street, bee wings kept buzzing in his ears, startling him, but when he looked, nothing.
"Again?"
Finishing up stock and heading inside, he heard buzzing again.
"Huh?"
"Oh, no, it's nothing."
The customer in front of him looked like they hadn't heard a thing, so Kim Hyung-un quickly finished the transaction. As he wrapped up work, he debated going to the hospital.
'Where to?'
ENT?
Or...
'...Not psych.'
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"You're seeing the moon?"
"Yes."
Kim Hyung-un met with the psychiatrist and furrowed his brow.
"And you smell soybean paste?"
"Yes."
"And hear bees buzzing?"
"Yes."
Even in broad daylight, he saw the blue moon. Woke up to a splitting headache from the stench, and now bees buzzed from afar wherever he went.
'Am I crazy, or is something wrong with my brain?'
Maybe a brain tumor. A tumor messing with his eyes, ears, nose.
"Hmm."
He hated going to psych first but feared a big hospital confirming a tumor would end his world, so psych it was. The doctor diagnosed quickly.
"No big deal."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. No need to worry too much."
Yes! Good call coming here first! He couldn't follow the medical jargon, but stress was the culprit, and a shot plus meds would fix it. He grinned and bowed.
"Thanks, doc!"
"Get the shot, then head to the pharmacy downstairs for your prescription."
"Yes! Thank you!"
Leaving the exam room, Kim Hyung-un went to get his injection.
"Alright, time to slap on the soybean paste."
"Yes...?"
"The soybean paste."
"What the hell are you talking about!"
He whipped around in shock. The equally shocked nurse stared blankly at him, syringe in hand.
"P-Patient? What's wrong?"
"Oh, no, nothing."
Guess my head really is messed up. After the shot, he called the store owner and decided to take some time off.
"Really?"
-Yeah, perfect timing—a buddy of mine's on leave and can cover. Rest up.
"Sorry about this."
-No need. Get better quick and come back.
I hope so too. Confirming the blue moon outside the window, he popped the pills.
'Shot and meds—should be fine soon.'
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"..."
Still staring at the blue moon outside, Kim Hyung-un took his meds.
'The moon's bigger.'
His nose ached from the soybean paste stench. You get used to smells eventually, but this one just got worse, no adaptation.
'It's only been a day. No way it'd heal that fast.'
Maybe take a walk.
Outside, the smell intensified. Park, tree-lined street—nowhere helped.
'It's all fake, hallucinations from mental illness.'
So the constant bee buzz around him was fake too.
The wingbeats fanning his ear like a breeze—fake.
The crawling on his shoulder, the sting of venom on his face—all fake.
"Eek!"
Pain like a fist to the lips. He kept telling himself hallucination, but the pain was too real.
'N-Not fake?'
Phone camera on his lips—swollen, definitely stung.
'This one's real, not hallucination.'
How could this burning, throbbing pain be fake! Gritting through it, Kim Hyung-un headed to the pharmacy.
"Got any ointment for bee stings?"
"Oh, yes, right here."
The pharmacist handed him a tub of soybean paste.
"Rub soybean paste on bee stings, heals right up."
"..."
Same as the nurse. He squeezed his eyes shut.
'This is hallucination too.'
Opened them—thank god, ointment now.
"But where'd you get stung?"
"Lips."
"Looks fine."
"...Does it?"
Still hurts.
On the way home, he grabbed some soju from the convenience store.
'Might as well drink and crash.'
With the soybean paste stink and buzzing, no way he'd sleep sober.
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'I'm not crazy.'
Shuddering under the covers from the swarm going berserk outside, Kim Hyung-un trembled. He forced himself to recognize it as hallucination and act normal, but each time, bees stung wildly, writhing pain making him thrash.
"I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy."
Regular clothes wouldn't block them, so he dug out his old army uniform from the closet depths. Red name tag and sergeant stripes still pristine—no reserve training yet.
"Why would I be crazy, huh? This is just temporary mental fog. Not crazy at all."
Yeah, meds'll fix me right up. Gotta eat first. Watered-down rice, simple.
"...This is fake too."
Bees floated in the rice-water slop, flapping on bloated grains. He shoved it in anyway.
"Fake, fake."
Crunch-!
"It's fake, I said."
Crunch-! Crunch-!
"And if it's real, so what."
One bowl rice, ten bees.
Meds down, into bed.
"Sleep it off, wake up fine."
Soybean paste stink hit, but this time... felt kinda good?
＊＊＊
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"Bees go buzz buzz."
His tiny studio crammed with swarms. Wingbeats vibrated the air like an earthquake.
"Soybean paste goes stink stink."
Inhale, and lung-searing reek made him gag. Couldn't breathe through nose anymore—mouth only.
"I'm hee hee."
Inside, Kim Hyung-un forced a laugh, singing in a quavering sob of a voice. Barely resisting the urge to dive under blankets, he opened the fridge.
'Meds, meds'll make it better.'
Side dish tub out. Tasty fried tofu riddled with bees, zucchini stir-fry packed with bee heads.
"Make soy egg fried rice."
Hot pan, crack egg—bee in the yolk flapping alive.
"Fuck."
Mental illness. Illness, all hallucinations. Swallowed handful of pills, collapsed into bed.
'Please, tomorrow...'
Let everything be normal.
＊＊＊
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Kim Hyung-un, sleepless since yesterday, felt like he'd lose it. Room packed solid with bees, wing roar drowning his breath, soybean paste stabbing straight to brain.
"Haa, haa."
But worst, keeping him awake: the blue moon. Lying in bed, staring at ceiling, not even glancing at window.
Yet he saw it. Impossible physically, but no other way.
Blue moon heard. In front of eyes—no, maybe in his head.
The Blue Moon Speaks
You, one-eyed wretch, son of Kim Hyung-sik, child of Park Hee-seon, grandson of Kim Tae-bu, great-grandson of Lee Mal-sook.
I am your savior, practitioner of mercy, patron of the cute ones, vandal of the great ones, the one who grants eyes. See the world through the gaze of the two-eyed.
Intense pain hit. Beyond open eyes, soul gliding across ceiling, swept through flotsam in vastness.
"Ah, aaa!"
Dust. Dust drifting cosmic river, settling as speck on world's grain, living wretchedly.
"Aaaaah!"
Smelled world's grandeur.
How pathetic he was.
Human knowledge, petty puddle.
Science, mere phenomenon.
Dimensions, shallow notion.
Perception, laughable tale.
And...
"Aaaack!"
How dangerous, horrific the world.
"Haa, haa."
Snapping back, Kim Hyung-un bolted from bed, snatched kitchen knife, aimed at heart.
"Gotta die, gotta die!"
Before they noticed.
Before it cared.
Before chance encounter.
"Die now!"
But he couldn't pierce.
'What about Mom if I die? Dad? Little bro?'
I escape in death, but family can't.
"No!"
Bolted outside. To parents' house, crowds saw him, fled in panic.
"Knife!"
"Run!"
Ah, gotta save family.
Passersby triggered unbearable pity—he swung unavoidable.
"Save me!"
"Aaack!"
Tears at screams. Relief too—at saving them.
"Freeze!"
"Hands up! Drop the knife, punk!"
Busy district, cops fast. Regret at their arrival.
'Need to save more.'
Cops human too. Save them. Charged—but bullets shredded.
'Rubber rounds? Straight to live ammo?'
Ah, yeah, lotsa knife psychos lately. Law changed to live fire?
'I'm not trash like that.'
Haven't saved Mom yet.
Dad, works nonstop daily—no save.
Poor bro, just discharged—no save. Damn.
"Suspect neutralized! Send ambulances! Over ten victims—multiple!"
Saved a few at least. Feeling cooling body, he looked skyward.
"Oh, ooo...."
Reached for blue moon gazing down.
"Ah, merciful moon."
Thanks for this chance.
'And if possible...'
Extend same mercy to my family.