Chapter 386: Overwhelmed (15)

Translator: Santos

 

The scene shifted from the rundown bus where the crazed “Pierrot” had rampaged to a bustling street in New York City. It was broad daylight, and this was a glimpse into Henry Gordon’s past. Woo-jin, embodying Henry, was walking slowly down the sidewalk, his steps heavy.

He walked with a sluggish, defeated gait, in stark contrast to the manic energy he’d exuded on the bus. There was nothing left of that frenzied, chaotic persona. Inside and out, he was drained. As Henry Gordon—or rather, as Woo-jin felt in this moment—he was like a soaked rag, his body heavy, his mind thick with fog. It felt as though every ounce of energy had been sapped from him.

“...Sigh…”

Woo-jin let out a quiet sigh as he moved through the throng of people. Occasionally, some passersby glanced at him with a mix of curiosity and disdain, dressed as they were in neat suits and polished attire. Woo-jin noticed the stares but paid them no mind.

He stopped outside a store and looked at his reflection in the glass: a worn-out hoodie with fraying jeans, shoes with soles practically worn down to nothing, unkempt long hair, a hunched back, and narrow shoulders. He looked gaunt and frail.

Just then, the door to the store opened, and a stocky man with a thick mustache, presumably the store owner, came out. As soon as he laid eyes on Woo-jin, his face shifted into one of suspicion, brows furrowing deeply.

“What are you doing here?”

Caught off guard, Woo-jin’s hunched shoulders curled inward even further.

“Oh, uh, I just…”

“Don’t bother. Just keep moving.”

“You don’t understand, I—”

“Get lost!”

The man’s bark caused a few people around them to turn and look. Woo-jin, after hesitating for a moment, finally dragged his feet away. A glance over his shoulder showed that the man was still glaring daggers at him.

Though it left a bitter taste in his mouth, Woo-jin ignored the incident and kept walking. It wasn’t unusual for him.

> “It’s fine. If I just push the thoughts away…”

A wave of numbness washed over Woo-jin. The people, the world, everything around him felt hollow. Even that man who had just berated him felt insubstantial.

It was all meaningless.

The steps of Henry Gordon, or rather Woo-jin, dragged along the pavement, but each step felt like it held no direction, no purpose. It wasn’t warm or cold, comic or tragic. Everything just felt empty.

Eventually, Woo-jin turned into an alleyway.

A small pizza shop came into view, the place where he was working as a deliveryman. His hunched frame stopped in front of the door, and he let out a sigh before opening it.

> “Hey!”

A loud voice immediately rang out from inside the kitchen. A large man wearing a flour-streaked apron scowled at Woo-jin as soon as he entered. It was the pizza shop owner.

“I just got a call from a customer! Said you were seven minutes late! Are you out of your mind?!”

“S-Sorry, sir!”

Woo-jin stammered an apology, but the owner, visibly enraged, stomped over to him, practically breathing down his neck.

“And the payment?”

“I… didn’t get it…”

“For god’s sake.”

“It’s just that… the customer gave me the wrong address, so…”

“What? So it’s the customer’s fault now? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, I’m really sorry.”

The pizza shop owner stared him down, his jaw clenched.

> “I must be insane for hiring a beggar like you. Get out.”

“What?”

“I said get out.”

“You can’t just—”

“Get lost!”

The sharpness of the shop owner’s contemptuous yell stung. Woo-jin, despite his bent shoulders and small frame, tried his best to plead with the man, his words coming out desperate and choked.

“I-I’m so sorry! I swear, I won’t let it happen again! I’ll work harder—”

“You can leave on your own, or I’ll make sure you’re carried out with a few broken bones.”

“… …”

The hope he’d held onto crumbled in an instant. This job was how Woo-jin scraped by each day. Feeling his spirit crushed, he spoke softly once more.

“Well… then at least pay me for what I’ve worked so far—”

> *Thwack!*

The owner threw a few bills and coins on the ground. The amount was pitiful.

“Consider it deducted for all the times you screwed up! Now scram!”

Woo-jin looked down at the money scattered on the ground, his hand slowly reaching for it. Pride told him to leave it there. His dignity felt bruised. But reality reminded him that neither pride nor dignity could buy him a meal. As he collected the bills, an overwhelming sense of emptiness filled him.

> “Right. This is just how it is.”

He endured it. Woo-jin swallowed the unspoken resentment and accepted the humiliating treatment, just as he always had. He walked out of the pizza shop, hearing the owner spit on the ground behind him. He pretended not to notice.

Woo-jin kept walking.

After a few steps, he passed a store with several televisions on display, each screen showing the same broadcast. A woman in a sharp suit was speaking.

> “Control your anger. Outbursts of rage are a sign of illness. Seek help, because unrestrained anger can lead to many problems.”

The woman appeared to be some sort of psychologist, and her words struck him as though they were meant specifically for him, Henry Gordon. Filled with grief, Woo-jin mumbled to himself as he continued walking.

> “Yeah… if I had gotten angry, I wouldn’t have gotten that money.”

Just then, it started drizzling. People without umbrellas hurried for cover, but Woo-jin…

> “… …”

…simply pulled up the hood of his worn-out sweatshirt. He paused at a crosswalk as a bus pulled up, the face of a young child at one of the windows smiling brightly. Woo-jin tried to force a smile back, but the child’s mother quickly shielded her eyes, and Woo-jin’s expression faded.

Years of discrimination and scorn had dulled him.

Words like “endure,” “bear with it,” “ignore,” “let it go,” and “close your eyes” swirled in his mind.

Suppress the anger.

> “I… need to find a job.”

He had a younger sister with mental health issues waiting for him at home. There was no time to rest. The frustration built up within him.

The rain intensified.

> *Ssssh!*

Woo-jin picked up a newspaper from a nearby trash bin to shield his head from the rain. Just as he was about to cover himself, he noticed the headline on the front page.

> *“Mysterious Bank Robbers Found Unconscious Outside Police Station! Who is This Hidden Hero?”*

Recently, headlines about “hidden heroes” had become common. Woo-jin scoffed and tossed the paper back into the trash.

Hero. It sounded nice. But heroes only exist because villains do.

How many villains had Woo-jin encountered today alone? Yet he hadn’t been able to confront any of them. Why was that?

He reached his apartment, a cramped room with just enough space for a bed and a bathroom. His younger sister lay on the bed, fast asleep. He gently covered her with a blanket and went into the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror.

> “… …”

He tried to smile, but instead, anger bubbled up inside him. He was smiling, yet his heart felt like it was on fire. He had done nothing wrong. So why? Why only him? The kindness he showed to the world was simply a defense mechanism.

Woo-jin clenched his fist.

On the verge of punching the mirror, he stopped himself. Instead…

> *Thud!*

He threw a bar of soap against the wall. It was all too much.

---

A few days later.

Woo-jin’s perspective shifted again. Now he was at the entrance of a large shopping center, holding up an advertisement board and hopping up and down. He’d managed to find a new job.

But his appearance had changed.

Lightly dyed red hair, a face painted white, sharp red triangles around his eyes, and thickly painted lips stretched into a constant smile. He was dressed exactly like a clown.

As he juggled the advertisement board, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

> “Hey—Henry.”

Woo-jin, now as Henry Gordon in his clown costume, turned to see the pizza shop owner snickering at him.

> “Haha, yeah, it’s you, isn’t it? Hey, Henry, that hunch really suits you.”

> “… …”

> “Or maybe it’s because you’re so scrawny? Go on, dance for me! Clowns are supposed to make people happy, right?”

Contempt, mockery, discrimination, prejudice, scorn—it all churned in Woo-jin. Anger flared up, but what could he do? In the end, he simply stood there, speechless. The pizza shop owner chuckled for a few more minutes before sauntering off.

Lowering the advertisement board, Woo-jin watched him walk away.

> “… …”

His expression was inscrutable.

---

Later that night, under a stormy sky.

The pizza shop owner was alone in his shop, drinking beer as he watched TV. Thunder

 rumbled in the distance.

> *Boom!*

The door creaked open. The owner turned, startled, and there stood the rain-soaked figure of a clown—Henry Gordon, or Woo-jin.

> “Henry?! What the hell are you doing here?!”

Just as lightning flashed, a gunshot rang out.

> *Bang! Bang!*

Woo-jin stood there, a gun in hand. The pizza shop owner lay sprawled on the floor, blood slowly pooling around him.

> “… …Ah.”

Woo-jin felt a mixture of regret and relief as he straightened his once-bent shoulders.

A flash of lightning illuminated his face. The makeup around his eyes had started to smear in the rain, creating the image of a clown weeping red tears.

Woo-jin grinned.

> “Hahaha! Hahaha!”

It was genuine laughter.

Then, something caught his eye. Among the items scattered on the floor was a card stained with blood. He picked it up.

The card had an image of a clown or “Pierrot.”

> *“JOKER”*

---

Before he knew it, Woo-jin was back in reality, seated in the van. Snow was falling outside, the scene untouched from when he’d first entered the pocket dimension.

> “Whew—feeling a bit stiff.”

After living out Henry Gordon’s life and embodying the journey of a villain’s “birth,” Woo-jin couldn’t help but feel an eerie residue of the character clinging to him.