Cursed Bunny

by Bora Chung

  Then suddenly, people were crowding around him again. Maintaining their distance like before, they appeared in ones and twos, staring at him.

  This time, the people were quietly conversing amongst themselves. He had a hard time reading their expressions, and their sheer number continued to overwhelm him, making him uncertain of what to do.

  A voice was heard over the low rumblings of the crowd.

  “All right, it’s all right! Get out of the way, will you? Ah, here we go, there he is.”

  The loud voice had come from a bald, middle-aged man. Led by a young man through the crowd, he kept blustering and shouting as he approached. The bald man, when he approached the edge of the crowd nearest to the youth from the cave, whispered something to the young companion, who turned and disappeared back in the crowd. The older man, however, kept shouting things like “It’s all right!” or “Ah, here we go!” as he came up to the youth.

  When he extended his hand, the youth took a step back in surprise. But the bald man, smiling gamely, took another step and slipped his hand onto the chain dangling from the youth’s manacles. He gently pulled.

  “All right, then, here we go. Nothing more to see. Go about your business everyone, we’re all good to go.”

  It had been so long since he had heard the sound of another person’s voice that it wasn’t heartening, it was merely strange. He couldn’t understand half the words the bald man was saying. But just as he had cowered instinctively in the cave when stretching out his arms and legs and the chains had pulled them back, he cowered now when the man pulled lightly at his chain.

  With a friendly smile on his face, the man held onto the chain as he approached the youth and placed his hand on his shoulder. The white and plump hand disappeared into the tangles of the youth’s hair, which had grown as wild as a bush. As if already familiar with his body, the hand crept to the scar on his neck bone where It had ripped into and sucked, and the man pressed down hard.

  The youth froze. The fear when It had pierced his vertebrae, the absolute terror that he may die, and the pain—it all came flooding back.

  “All right, all right. Look, nothing more to see here. Everybody go about your day now. Hey, step aside will you …” The bald man kept speaking in his loud voice as he led the youth by the chain, his hand still on the youth's neck. Unable to suppress or swallow the scream that burst from him, the youth was dragged away by the man.

  VI

  The man gave him water, food, and clothing.

  Having known only raw meat and greens as sustenance, the smell of cooked food was strange to him. But once he put it in his mouth, he couldn’t stop until he had devoured it all. He had filled his stomach and nodded off when the sound of clanging woke him up with a start. As he saw the bald man approaching his wrists with a large tool, he screamed and struggled against the hands of the other men who held him down, helpless.

  The bald man cut off the manacle on the youth’s left wrist and the shackles on his ankles. The right-hand manacle he left for some reason. But because he had taken the chain off the ring, it didn’t dangle awkwardly like before.

  The youth looked down at his wrists and ankles. The feeling of heavy steel was repugnant, but he was used to it, along with the callouses over the scraped, even scarred flesh where the metal had touched. The sudden lightness in his arms and legs was peculiar to him.

  “Rest a bit, yeah? You’ve got to start earning your keep from tomorrow.”

  For some reason, the bald man seemed gleeful as he spoke his words with a wide grin. All incomprehensible to the youth. The man, sensing that the youth couldn’t understand him, smiled even wider as he shut the door to the little hut he had put the youth in.

  The youth sat for a while in the peace and calm. At first, he was afraid, but because nothing bad was happening, he gradually began to relax.

  On the dirt floor of the hut was a straw mat. Having only ever felt black rock against his bare body for as long as he could remember, that thin straw mat was as soft as cotton fluff to him. The hut was dim but nothing like the absolute darkness of the cave. The air was warm and soft, lightly fragrant with fresh grass and earth. Between the straw of the thatched roof, the stars sparkled above.

  He thought of how he’d smashed his steel chains against the walls of the cave just to see a single spark. Had some giant trapped inside the cave of the night sky struck their chains against some unimaginably large wall to create the stars? Had they done it as a cry for help? Or to endure, somehow, the emptiness and darkness? He had no way of knowing. Whatever the reason they were banging their chains against the walls, the trapped giant, like the insect that had crawled by him, could only toss him a disinterested glance.

  That was his last thought before drifting off to sleep.

  VII

  The bald man woke him up early in the morning. The man’s many underlings had the youth’s body and hair washed and his tangled locks cut off. Whenever the youth struggled in fear, the bald man pressed down with his fat, white hand on the scar on the nape of the youth’s neck. It was strange how well he knew how to make the youth obey.

  After the washing and the haircutting, the bald man’s followers slathered the youth’s body in oils and put him in ornate trousers. He wasn’t given anything to wear above his waist, so the scars on his arms and upper body were laid bare. The oils made the triangular scars on his body shine like threatening tattoos.

  After this preparation was over, the bald man fastened a chain to the cuff on the youth’s right hand. The old chain had been rusted red and was heavy and awkward, but this new chain, while just as thick, was much lighter, its black sheen gleaming in the sun.

  The black color made him think of It, blocking the entrance to the cave, its stiff feathers. But because the bald man was now gently tugging at the chain, he came back to his senses and obediently began to walk as he was ordered.

  On foot, they eventually arrived in a large square in the middle of a village. At a gesture from the bald man, his followers drove pegs into the square and made a kind of fence. The bald man, chain in his hand, smiled as always while watching them work.

  The villagers started to arrive as the fence was being completed. The youth, like before, was staring at the overwhelming crowd in wonder. When they were fully surrounded by the crowd, the bald man detached the black chain from the youth’s cuff and gave him a light push.

  “Now, go fight.”

  The youth couldn’t understand him. He stood at the entrance, a gap in the wooden fence, and could only stare at the faces of the people gathered around and that of the bald man.

  The man grinned again. “You idiot. Go fight! Bite! Shoo!”

  And he shoved him hard into the empty space inside the fence.

  The people around the fence roared in delight. So strange and loud was this sound to the youth that he recoiled in fear.

  When he raised his head, he found himself face to face with a large, black dog that was foaming at the mouth and had murder in its eyes.

  Naturally, he had no idea this was a dog. It had been far too long since he had seen any kind of animal, wild or livestock. But its bloodshot eyes and the sharp fangs that glinted through the foam allowed him to instinctively understand what was happening.

  The youth looked behind him. The gap that the bald man had pushed him through was now blocked.

  Without taking his eyes off the dog’s bloody stare, he started to shuffle sideways, step by slow step.

  And another step.

  Just as he turned his head to seek another escape, the black dog made a soundless leap for the youth’s neck.

  As the dog’s teeth arced through the air toward him, the youth felt the shockwave of every bone and joint breaking within him. Even in the painful throes of being shattered into a thousand pieces, during that single leap he could still hear the sound of every individual break and crack, one after another.

  The dog’s teeth, which aimed for his throat, and its claws, eager to rip his flesh, sma
shed against something hard, and the dog rebounded off, thwarted in its attack. After rolling on the ground, the dog righted itself and continued to growl. As the youth stood up to meet the dog’s gaze again, he could detect within its bloodshot eyes a hint of hesitation.

  But the dog was sick. Following the dictates of the disease deep within its brain, the dog, still foaming at the mouth, howled as it charged at the youth again.

  He couldn’t remember what happened next. When he came to, the large black dog was nothing but a lump of leather and fur drenched in blood, tossed to the side on the dusty ground.

  The crowd roared. There were those who had hastily left or turned around and threw up. Those who hadn’t vomited or left were like the sick dog when it was alive, flashing their bloodshot eyes and making loud, incomprehensible noises and wildly clapping.

  The bald man came into the arena and bowed. More shouts and applause. As the youth stood there dazed, the man grabbed his arm and led him out. Only when the bald man’s followers approached the youth and began to towel him off did the youth realize he was covered in his own sweat and the dog’s blood.

  “Good job.” The bald man was all grins, deeply satisfied about something. “You did well. Just keep doing what you do. Maybe show a bit more restraint next time, yeah?”

  The man lifted his thick, white hand and slapped it playfully on the nape of the youth’s neck. The palm of his hand had pressed down precisely on the scar, but the contact had been quick and light, which made the youth feel less scared than before.

  From the people who had wiped away the sweat and blood, came offerings of water and dried meat. He gulped down the water in a frenzy and chewed the salty, tough flesh and thought about how different the man’s light and friendly touch just now had been from when he had pressed down hard on the scar the first time he led him away. He couldn’t understand how, but on some level, he knew that he had been given a compliment by another human being for the first time.

  VIII

  He was taken village to village and entered into fights. The youth did not understand what was going on, but he was a good fighter.

  His opponent would be another big dog or a captured wolf, sometimes a boar; once, he had to fight a bear. Whatever his opponent, the only things he could remember of the fights themselves were the fear and tension, the pain of his body shattering into pieces, and a piercing sound of breakage. Then, strangely enough, he would come to and the beast would be lying with its neck broken or stomach ripped open, its guts spilled all over the ground.

  “Restraint, my dear boy, restraint.” The bald man, his pale and plump face stretched by an ear-to-ear grin, would chant the words like they were a mantra. “It’s all very fine and well to rip open your opponent when it’s an animal, but if you do that to another man, the mess afterwards is such a fuss to clean up.” Then, the man would take a look at the youth’s uncomprehending, staring face, and toss him another bit of dried meat. “A rank idiot you are … There’s some way to teach you so you’d understand, all right.”

  One day, the man brought over another man who had the same shining bald head but was about twice the size in muscle alone.

  Shaven completely—hair, beard, and even eyebrows—the muscular man with the shining face whispered something to the bald man before entering the arena and standing before the youth.

  Unsure of what to do, the youth simply stared at the man. The beasts he fought would have blood in their gaze, raise their hackles, or be foaming at the mouth with their claws unsheathed. Their intention to attack was clear, and there was nothing else to do other than to get out of the way or defend yourself. But fighting a man was completely different. The completely shaven, muscled man was grinning like the bald man as he spread his arms wide in a friendly gesture and looked at the youth.

  “Come over here, kid. Let’s have some fun.”

  The youth didn’t know what this meant. He hesitated. A glance at the muscled man’s smiling face, and then a glance at the bald man outside the fence who was watching them.

  The bald man kept grinning. “Attack, you idiot. Attack him.” He made punching gestures with his white, fat fists.

  The youth could understand that gesture, at least. This being the first time he was fighting a man, there was something about the situation that made him hold back at first, but in the end, he followed instructions and lunged at the bald, muscled man.

  The man stepped aside with an agility that belied his bulky appearance. The youth turned and lunged again. The older man deftly deflected him with his left palm. Momentum made the youth sprawl to the ground. The muscled man gripped the back of the youth’s neck.

  Freezing where he was, the moment the muscled man pressed down on the scars on the nape of his neck, he lost all ability to move.

  The muscled man grinned. He tossed the youth away like a doll.

  The youth slammed against the wooden fence. For a brief moment, his vision blacked out. As he came to and tried to get upright again, he realized his nose was bleeding.

  Standing now, he tried to get his wits back by shaking his head. By the time his eyes refocused, the muscled man was right in front of him. The youth had hardly a second to think before his opponent, in a gesture as if to stroke a child’s head, spread his palm and slammed it into the youth’s temple. The youth stumbled onto the ground again.

  Spitting out sand and blood, he stood up again. There had never been a fight that had progressed like this before. In anger, he charged at the man with his fists up.

  Like before, the man easily avoided him, even pressing down on the scar as the youth fell again of his own accord. The feeling that he was being mocked only further stoked his fury. But running at the man and making futile attempts at blows was only exhausting him.

  Face splattered with blood and sand, the youth swayed as he stood. He could barely breathe. The muscled man was still grinning as he looked on.

  “It’s more tiring to miss and hit the air than it is to get some good punches in,” he said. “Because it’s not just the body that’s exhausted, it’s the mind.”

  The youth didn’t understand him. All he could see was that the man was making fun of him. Enraged, he forgot all about how tired and out of breath he was. Forming fists with his hands, he attacked once more.

  The man again evaded the youth’s attacks. He waited for the youth to stumble again, then pressed his knee on the youth’s back and brought his fist up to the youth’s neck. The moment the youth felt the man’s fist, his third knuckle specifically, graze the nape of his neck, the youth heard from somewhere the first, faint sounds of breaking.

  Right before his fist could dig into the youth’s neck, the muscled man stopped his movement.

  The youth caught his breath and waited.

  The sound stopped. Nothing happened.

  Slowly, the man stood up. He extended a hand but the youth didn’t take it. The youth stood up on his own.

  Seeing this, the muscled man, yet again, grinned.

  The youth could hear the other two men talking as he drank his water and chewed his dried meat.

  “As long as he doesn’t realize that his opponent is attacking him …”

  “You’re saying if we could delay the realization somehow …”

  “But think of what might go wrong …”

  “How? I’m telling you, it never fails to work …”

  In the midst of their talk, the men would smile at the youth if they met his gaze, as if the two had made a prior agreement. The older bald man threw him another scrap of meat. The muscled man made a drinking gesture toward the youth. Seeing his perplexed expression, the muscled man laughed loudly.

  IX

  A few days later, the youth was sent out to fight once more. But before he stepped into the empty arena, the bald man handed him a liquid in a leather pouch. Opening it without thinking, the youth averted his face from the sudden, sharp smell.

  The only liquid he’d known was water. The stuff in the pouch was definitely not
water.

  He stared at the bald man. As always, he was grinning his grin, and this time he made drinking gestures, throwing his head back with his hand near his mouth.

  “Drink up. It’s good for you. You’ve got to make lots of money, right?”

  The youth hesitated. The man came closer and grabbed his neck. The moment the youth was helpless, the man poured the stinging liquid in his mouth. The youth coughed and heaved, but the man managed to get almost half of it down his throat.

  “Perfect. Now, go! Shoo!” Smirking, the pouch still in his hand, the man slapped the youth’s back and shoved him into the arena.

  This time, the youth’s opponent was a person. A young man with a fierce expression. His hair was shorn, there was a long scar on his forehead, and his eyes were long, angry slits.

  This ferocious young man bounded up to the youth. Thinking he was being attacked, the youth instinctively flinched. But just as his opponent came within striking distance, the man leaped away. His opponent, legs wide apart and swaying back and forth, would approach within an arm’s length and jump back, approach and jump back, over and over again.

  Watching his opponent do this made the youth feel dizzy. When the opponent, in the midst of this swaying and keeping distance, suddenly hit him in the cheekbones, the youth, who had not even tried to avoid him much less deflect the blow, fell sluggishly to the ground. The people standing around the fence booed him.

  He managed to get up. His opponent bounded up to him and kicked his stomach, hard. He managed to break his fall somewhat by stretching out his arms, but the liquid he had drunk suddenly surged from his stomach. When his opponent kicked him one more time, he fell forward and threw up the rest of it.

  The green liquid pooled on the ground and dirtied his mouth. For some reason, the crowd roared.

  Struggling, he got to his feet. This time, his opponent did not attack but merely waited for him—swaying back and forth like before, watching him.