RE-ONION

Sol and Eun: Travelers in the Library

Sol is a diligent man. He wakes up exactly at 8 o’clock to the sound of his alarm, takes a light shower, and puts on clothes that look roughly neat before leaving for work. By 10 a.m., he must be standing at the company’s front gate, stamping his attendance card. But that day was simply a day when he didn’t want to. Was it because the deadline of a long project had just passed? No. Had he broken up with his lover? No. Had he had a quarrel with a colleague? No. Without any reason, he just didn’t want to be diligent today. Rather, because there was no reason, he didn’t want to be diligent. Everything was boring. Perhaps Sol was tired of a life where he could no longer distinguish tomorrow from today or yesterday. “It feels like just blinking my eyelids every day,” he thought—that’s how he described his life. Sol turned off the alarms on his phone and went out for a walk. Even if today’s work gets delayed, as long as I move my fingers a little faster tomorrow, it won’t be a problem. Even that kind of calculation about himself, Sol disliked. He picked up his phone and called Eun. An old friend, but someone different in temperament—someone who spends his days on the phone, someone who scrapes by with only part-time jobs. Sol knew if he called, Eun would come out right away. From the other end, a familiar voice answered. Sol finished his purpose with a single word: “Let’s hang out.” There was no need to ask for a reason. About an hour later, Sol and Eun were walking through a park. They shared their recent stories, the things happening in their lives, without much filtering. At times curses slipped in, at times big laughter broke out. Before he knew it, Sol had completely forgotten about his work. It didn’t feel stiff or boring. Comfort and satisfaction ran through his body. He thought, any conversation is enjoyable now. Conversations free from responsibility, duty, or rehearsed words.

As they strolled out of the park, they found themselves walking along a main road. In the distance stood a massive steel structure, like a shack. Unlike the square-shaped apartments and buildings they usually saw, it wasn’t exactly beautiful, but Sol thought it had a strangely comforting image. “What’s that place?” “Not sure.” That was enough of a conversation. The two of them walked toward the odd building. The shape of the structure was peculiar: like a long tent, but inside that tent were others—another tent of steel, another of glass, another of concrete—layered one within another. At the center of this gathering of tents was a giant hole, swallowing up the road they were walking on, Sol thought. As they drew closer, Sol realized there was another tent-like building standing in front of the one with the gaping hole. Slightly off to the side of the road, its wall facing the street all the way up to the ceiling was glass, like a greenhouse. That glass wall had folding doors lined up along it, thrown open toward the street. Light desks and folding chairs spilled outward as if bursting from its sides, and on them were people doing all sorts of things—flower arranging, cooking, painting, pottery. Like the fillings of a split gimbap, Sol thought. The whirring of a potter’s wheel, the rasp of saws, countless sounds spilled out into the street. Sol gave Eun a glance, then walked up to a person smoothing clay with graceful hands. Sensing company, the person brushed off clay from his hands and looked at Sol. Caught by the sudden gaze, Sol hesitated. Finally, he managed to get out a greeting: “Hello.” “Hello,” the other replied. “Are you here to try pottery?” The walk had no destination, but Sol thought pottery didn’t sound bad. When he glanced at Eun, Eun just said, “As long as we’re back by dinner.” The potter introduced himself as Mr. Seo. He added that the morning sessions were already full, so it would be better if they returned in the afternoon. “Go watch a movie or something in the meantime.” A movie? Was there even a theater around here? Sol tried to recall, but realized he had never really explored his own neighborhood. He gave a vague nod. Seo pointed to a massive concrete tent-like structure within the larger steel tent. “There’s a section there, Workshop Library, Row F. You’ll find books on ceramics there—it may be useful.” Sol nodded. “I never knew there was a workshop around here.” Eun quietly nodded as well. Neither of them had much reason to walk around this neighborhood.

Sol and Eun walked straight along the main road toward the Workshop Library. Through the glass front, they could see rows of wooden bookshelves lined up neatly in a straight line. “Row F, Row F…” Sol muttered as he pushed the shelves aside one after another, searching. “Here it is,” Eun waved from across. Sol saw him through the shelves. Next to him stood a shelf clearly filled with books on pottery. Behind Eun was a small exhibition space, and beyond it a bicycle passed by. Sol, without realizing it, found himself staring at the bicycle—until he noticed a small café across the road from the Workshop Library. Let’s check it out later, he thought. Meanwhile, Eun had already discovered a staircase tucked in the corner of the library and was climbing it. Sol followed behind. As they climbed, the upstairs was noisier than expected. The sound of fighting, of things breaking. But it didn’t feel like reality—it echoed more like a movie. Passing through the dim stairway, a burst of bright light enveloped them. So there really is a theater here. At last, Sol understood what Mr. Seo had meant earlier. Naturally, the two bought popcorn and soda from an unmanned vending machine and took seats in the back row of the central area. On the screen was an animated film that seemed vaguely familiar, something they might have seen in childhood. This library, strange in its very form, had a theater that was equally unusual. The screen and the seats weren’t in the same room. Instead, the screen stood a wall or two away, and behind it they could see people walking past—carrying books, sitting down, standing up. Perhaps that space too was a library. The structure was strange indeed, but Sol found himself growing fond of it. From the moment the protagonist collapsed, to the moment he rose with his comrades and defeated the v illains. From the time Eun drained his own soda to the moment he finished off the rest of Sol’s. They watched the film together, time slipping by.

“Starting to feel hungry?” Eun asked. Sol nodded. That café across the road probably has something to eat. As they stood up and went down the stairs, Mr. Seo was coming up. The three greeted each other again. “Are you enjoying yourselves? This is your first time here, right?” They both nodded. “Have you tried going up there?” Seo pointed to a stairway behind the theater screen. Leading the way, he climbed it himself. Sol and Eun followed behind. At the top was yet another bizarre space. Stairs and iron pillars tilted at odd angles, forming a strange interior. “This too is a library,” Seo said. “They call it the Eccentric Library,” thought Sol. A fitting name. Eun strode ahead without hesitation, picking up a book right away. “Hey, remember this?” It was an educational comic from their childhood—one they had glimpsed only in bits, never reading the full story since the volumes were always scattered among other kids. Neither of them could even recall the ending. “I’m going to borrow this,” Eun said. Sol gave a small reply, then looked around. The Eccentric Library had huge windows at both its front and back, open to the main road. Beneath, the passage through which they had entered ran along the base. Seo pointed at a café standing next to that central passage. “The pretzels there are good.” While Eun browsed through the comic books, Sol talked with Seo—about the building, the workshop, pottery, about books they each liked. As Eun read, the other two exchanged countless topics and opinions. Naturally, they ended up sitting on the stair-steps that doubled as bookshelves, talking, while Eun sat just beyond, immersed in his comic. Before long, Seo checked his watch. “It’s about time to prepare. I’ll head down first.” Sol nodded. “See you at three.” Seo descended the stairs. Sol waved him off.

Sol went over to Eun, who was still absorbed in reading, and sat next to him. He picked up one of the books Eun had already finished. “I used to think the protagonist was the normal one,” Sol said. The two recalled their childhood innocence, revisiting the perspectives of those days—when the world was something to be gradually learned. After some time reading comics, their stomachs began to rumble again, so they headed back downstairs. “Wait, there’s a book I want to find,” said Eun. Sol remembered the book Eun had recommended earlier—the one supposedly in the library that held the movie screen. Together they turned left and entered another section. Here, metal shelves filled the space in dense layers, blocking much of the room. This was the Maze Library. Between the shelves, figures appeared and disappeared—groups searching for books, people reading while standing, librarians putting things in order. Once, Sol thought he glimpsed Seo’s silhouette, but he couldn’t be sure. Wandering the labyrinth, Sol almost forgot why they had come, until he suddenly spotted the book he had been searching for. “Found it? Let’s go,” Eun said, leading the way. He turned the corner of a shelf and disappeared from view. Sol, catching glimpses of him through the gaps between shelves, followed after. They came out to the front of the building again, heading toward the central passage. A faint, savory smell of` salt and butter drifted toward them. Off to one side of the passage stretched two short lines: one for pretzels and coffee, the other for people holding stacks of books.` Sol handed the book to Eun and stood in the line for pretzels. Eun took Sol’s book and queued at the borrowing desk. After a short wait, each of them emerged from their lines—Sol with pretzels in hand, Eun with borrowed books—and together they entered the café. Inside, concrete and steel were left bare, but the space was warm with life: an elderly couple in quiet conversation, a child darting between tables, young lovers reading and drinking. In the walls of concrete, rectangular holes of various sizes had been carved out. Inside them were scattered the signatures of writers, their books, and their portraits. “Isn’t that author from our old textbooks?” Eun pointed. The face was unfamiliar to Sol, but the name beneath it stirred memory. He pulled out the book beneath the portrait and let the pages slide through his fingers. A long time ago, I read this… As he read the opening line of a short story inside, the next sentence leapt into his mind unbidden. Together, Sol and Eun reminisced—about the language teacher who had tormented them, the English teacher with the drowsy voice, the cram school they had attended together. For the first time in a long while, Sol thought back to those years. First loves, first rebellions, first mistakes, first encounters. Back then, time had felt so long. Strangely, even though those days too had been repetitive, each one etched itself into memory with joy. Why, then, did today’s repetitions feel so different?

Eun picked up another copy of the same book Sol was holding. “Should we borrow it too?” “No, let’s just read here.” Eun pointed to a small space beyond a wall. For a room with a concrete ceiling, it was strangely bright on the other side. “What’s over there?” Sol asked. Eun shrugged once and walked around the wall. Sol followed. It was a small room, filled with large desks and chairs, lit from above by a glass ceiling like the one at the workshop. Through it, they could see other parts of the building—bits of the Eccentric Library, the distant Maze Library, even a bicycle slipping through the central passage. On the opposite side, they could see the towering walls enclosing the building, rising up into the high space above. A small sign read: This is a shared reading room. Please be quiet. The atmosphere made even their footsteps slow. Sol carefully placed his coffee on the desk. Eun was already seated, reading the book he had just brought. Sol sat beside him and opened his own. This really does feel like something that would be in a school textbook, Sol thought. If he finished this one, he wanted to try picking another from the shelf nearby. Out of habit, he picked up his phone to look up a word he didn’t know. The moment the screen lit up, his expression darkened. Dozens of red call icons glared back at him. He knew exactly what kind of calls they were. Eun glanced at Sol’s face, then turned back to his book. “It’s just one day,” Eun murmured. Sol let out a dry laugh. Exactly. Why are they making such a fuss over just a day? Why am I? The phone started ringing again. Eun rested his chin on his hand, watching him. Sol forced a wry smile, held up the ringing phone toward Eun as if to show him, and walked out. Eun exhaled a faint sigh. Passing through the entrance, Sol saw rows of wooden lockers and shelves. Beyond them, the faint bobbing of people’s heads—probably some kind of sitting area inside. Light streamed down from an opening in the steel ceiling above. His eyes followed the walls, stacked with countless books, up toward the massive roof. What a strange place, Sol thought. Ignoring the vibration of his phone for a moment, he lowered his gaze. Outside was a small square with round benches scattered about. A few people were sitting, deeply absorbed in their books. Their eyes seemed to lift the words straight from the page. Among them, it didn’t take long for Sol to notice Mr. Seo. He ended the call. Sol walked over and started a conversation. Seo had finished his class preparations early and come to read. Sol asked more about pottery—why Seo taught it, what made it so appealing. The conversation stretched on and on. When the topics finally ran out, Seo stood. “I should get going—the class is about to start. Will you be joining this time?” “I’ll fetch Eun first,” Sol replied. They parted ways.

When Sol went back to find Eun, he saw that the novel was closed midway, and Eun was now absorbed in the comic book he had borrowed earlier. “Are you going to the class?” Sol asked. “No, I think I’ll just spend the whole day here,” Eun replied. “The pottery class is about to begin, you know?” “Oh, that? I’d rather just stay here with my comics.” “Well, suit yourself.” Eun looked up. “Isn’t there some place to lie down?” Sol suddenly remembered the wooden lockers he had seen earlier. He told Eun about them, and together they left the café. At first glance, it had seemed to be only rows of lockers, but looking closer, Sol realized that hidden among them were wooden doors. Each opened into small individual rooms. Eun quickly found an empty one, slipped inside, and stretched out on a raised wooden platform. Through the gaps between the shelves, Sol could see the top of his friend’s head. “I’ll come by later,” Sol said. Eun gave a lazy nod. “Today I just want to read all day.” Sol nodded back, then turned and walked toward the workshop again. His heart suddenly felt lighter. Tomorrow… it feels like tomorrow might never come. To spend an entire day just lying around, just reading—Sol thought maybe after the workshop he would come back and do exactly that with Eun. Spend the whole day… He looked back on the day. A walk through the park, stumbling upon a strange building, watching a movie, passing through these eccentric libraries, and ending up here. That morning now felt strangely distant. The day had stretched long. I wonder if Eun feels the same? Sol was sure he did. Will this day ever really end? Why bother worrying about tomorrow? He thought: I’ll just lie down too, just read whatever book comes to hand. And so, Sol and Eun’s day stretched on, longer and longer.