5. The People with Nowhere to Return (2) The Haven

Beside the door, a gold plaque was engraved with "Professor John Knox." Following him, a small office of about ten square meters emerged, lit by oil lamps in each corner. A vintage marble desk facing the door, set before thick curtains, held a stack of papers and a ballpoint pen.

"Please, have a seat."

The man pointed to a red velvet sofa in front of the desk, which contrasted with the green wainscoting walls, making the space seem more elegant.

"Right. It originally had a khaki faux leather cover, but I added this one. Thought it might brighten up the mood."

My obvious glance at the sofa had prompted his explanation.

"It's lovely."

I muttered shyly and took a seat. He fetched a can of cola from beneath the desk and placed it on the side table next to me.

"I'm sorry, I don't drink cola... Oh, my name is Hee-jae. You're Professor John Knox, right?"

I half-rose, bending at the waist, a greeting gesture familiar to me. The man, now sitting opposite me, adjusted his mustache and smiled profoundly.

"Wes always greeted like that, bowing deeply... Ah, but I'm not John Knox. Just call me Thompson. I used to clean here. Now, I live here."

"I apologize. I assumed from the plaque outside."

I bowed again. A stack of white blankets neatly folded in one corner suggested he indeed lived there.

"No need to apologize. Anyone would have thought the same. But, how come you're looking for Wes? He's been gone from the school for quite some time..."

His demeanor carried an unmistakable hint of skepticism. I nervously held the cola can beside me.

"Ah, we've lost touch. How long has Wes been gone?"

"Let's see. About three years, maybe?"

Three years sounded as long as thirty.

"Do you know where Wes went after he left?"

"Strange. The Wes I knew was single... Even if he had married, it would have been after graduation. Where he is now, I should be asking you that?"

I was at a crossroads: whether to stick to the truth or concoct another believable story.

"Wes and I decided to keep our marriage a secret while he was in the U.S. We planned to have the wedding once we returned to Korea. But he didn't come back after his graduation, so I came looking for him."

It was a hastily made-up lie, but it seemed plausible enough.

"Return to Korea? Wes was born and raised in the U.S., adopted by American parents. He never left Chicago. What do you mean he returned to Korea?"

Unable to fabricate any more lies, I hoped honesty wasn't too late.

"If you know anything about Wes, please tell me. He's looking for me, but I don't know where he is."

I put down the cola can.

"Wes is looking for you, but you don't know where he is? I'm not sure if your story adds up, but I'll try to understand. A janitor living in a professor's office isn't exactly straightforward either."

Thompson stood up, went to a cabinet beside the desk, and brought something to place on my lap. It was a black model, the size of a thick book, resembling a miniature of a large structure. Light for its size, I lifted it to see the details. It was a structure with rectangular modules connected by small tubes. On the front module, <The Haven> was engraved.

"What is this?"

"Wes gave it to me. Said it was made from moon dust. When he was leaving after graduation, he gave away all his belongings. When I asked why, he mentioned a friend does it when courage is needed. So, I guessed he was about to embark on something that required a great deal of courage."

An involuntary chuckle escaped me. Whenever I got rid of items, Wes would say, 'Could that be an obsession?' Thompson continued,

"He told me to take anything I needed, so I chose this model. But he hesitated. Later, I found out Professor Knox had his eye on it. Eventually, Wes gave it to me, and Knox, knowing I had it, scoffed at the idea of such a historical artifact ending up with a janitor... Nevertheless, it would have ended up with me regardless. Knox died shortly after the darkness came, on a vacation to Fiji, fortunately from old age... If he knew I'm living here now, what would he say? That his office ended up in the hands of a janitor? Or thank me for keeping a historical artifact in his office?"

Thompson laughed heartily, looking back at the empty chair attached to the desk. I hoped he'd continue Wes's story.

"If this model is made of moon dust, does that mean Wes's research was related to the moon?"

"I'm not sure, but since everyone here studies space, it might be. Was he planning to build something on the moon? Whatever it was, what's the use now? The field of space studies has become the most useless... After the world turned out this way, the first to leave the school were the aerospace engineering students and professors. The sky disappeared, and hope vanished instantly. Indeed, it was a matter of order; after that day, everyone who could cling to any hope at the university left."

"That day?"

Thompson's expression hardened.

"Where have you been? That day! The day of the riots! Our library and dormitories were completely burned down."

"Oh, I know."

I nodded quickly.

"Yes. After that day, everyone returned to where they came from, disappearing like winter squirrels. Those of us without a place to return had to choose between protecting something or stealing. I chose to protect. To protect this building and preserve our memories... Which side are you on?"

He glanced at the papers on the desk, then back at me. I couldn't answer. I hadn't made any choice yet. Korea was darker than here but not as cold, and people were still going about their business. Yet, as Thompson said, it might just be a matter of order.

"Ah, I see. You have a place to hide but came out briefly to find Wes. Well, that's fortunate."

My silence was interpreted that way.

"Yes, something like that. But..."

I was about to ask more about Wes when sirens began to sound outside, higher-pitched than those in Korea.

"Again, it starts. It's been quiet all morning."

Thompson stood up and adjusted the thick curtains, similar to what I'd do at home.

"Do you know where that siren is coming from?"

I half-covered my ear, hoping he might know the answer.

"I don't know. I've asked around, but no one seems to know. Whenever the siren sounds, people outside start developing rashes and dying, so it's nicknamed the death knell. But you, you're odd. You're listening as if you've never heard such stories before."

It was true; I was hearing about the rashes and death for the first time. I instinctively knew the siren signaled danger, but I hadn't heard of these symptoms in Korea.

"I'm interested in Wes's story. Did he give you this model and then leave?"

I quickly changed the subject. It was my main curiosity and the reason I came here.

"Wes came to me one night. My quarters were in the basement of this building, and he made the effort to come down to say goodbye. He thanked me for everything, bowing deeply. Such a kind friend. I think I barely managed a response in my half-sleep, regretting the next day that I hadn't hugged him."

"Did he say anything else? About where he was going to work, what research he would do next, or which city he was headed to?"

"I'm not quite sure. I think I asked where he was going, but I can't remember his response, which probably means he didn't give me a direct answer..."

He rolled his eyes upwards, trying to recall that day. All I could do was wait silently. Any detail about Wes was welcome.

"Ah, yes! He said he was going to 'finish the darkness.' It's strange to think about now. The darkness hadn't even started when he left."