- Do you like taking pictures that much?
- Well... actually, I like what you said back then more than that.
- what..?
- ....... Lights, camera, action,
Shoot
.
.
.
_ New York Cheesecake
***
The low rumbling sound of a ship's horn spread through the air.
In 1926, the Memorial arrived in New York Harbor and carried the ships that had crossed the ocean.
As if many people had been waiting, I stepped into the new world called America.
Started to step.
In the 1920s, New York was enjoying its greatest economic boom.
It was truly a romantic city filled with joy and pleasure.
And among the people who quickly find their way, I stand there dumbly
An Oriental man. His eyes, filled with tension and excitement, twinkled with a mixture of fantasy and wariness about the Western world.
The name of the person whose short hair is particularly impressive is Kim Nam-joon.
He is the second son of the wealthy Kim family in Gyeongseong, and he is destined for success.
I turned my back on my brother who was spending a lot of money to learn Japanese, and went to school alone to learn English, which is called crooked language.
Now that he was of age, he ran away to study abroad in the United States, as if he was running away from his parents' nagging that he would like a good Japanese woman as his spouse.
Fortunately, he had a talent for English, which he learned late in life, so studying abroad was possible, but since it was a hasty decision for him, he ended up arriving in New York without realizing it.
Namjoon's eyebrows twitched slightly as he saw someone suddenly run up to him, breathing heavily, and extending a hand as if he had just stood there blankly for a while.
- ...who are you? (Who are you?)
- Oh, you're from Chosen, right? Nice to meet you.
My name is Peter.
(Oh, you're from Joseon, right? Nice to meet you, I'm Peter.)
- Ah, nice to meet you. My name is Namjoon Kim.
(Oh, nice to meet you. My name is Kim Namjoon.)
- Nice to meet you, Jun? I got a call from James in advance.
Come here. I'll tell you where to stay.
- ..? Oh, yes. Yes, yes...
Namjoon, slightly embarrassed by the man leading him in broken Korean, followed him, and the man, who introduced himself as Peter, began to explain himself.
- Many of my friends have been to Joseon. They all enjoyed it.
So, I like Chosen too. (So, I like Joseon too)
- Oh, this is the place where Jun will stay. Our house is on the second floor and there is a bakery on the first floor.
(Oh, this is where Jun will be staying now. Our house is on the second floor,
There is a bakery on the first floor)
- Bakery, you know?
- I know. There is also a bakery in Gyeongsung
(I know. There is a bakery in Gyeongseong too.)
- Okay! Then unpack and get some rest. Good night!
Namjoon blankly watched Peter's back as he smiled and patted his shoulder before leaving. He then picked up his bag and went upstairs.
Actually, he didn't come here with any particular purpose, but since it's already spilt milk, he felt like he had to do something about it.
The United States was currently enjoying its greatest prosperity and was in the spotlight all over the world, so his main thought was that he would somehow be able to make a living.
As he climbed up to the second floor and took a moment to look around, his gaze stopped for a moment at a small shop across the street.
A small shop, about three or four pyeong in size, tucked away in a corner on the first floor. It lacked a proper sign, so it was unclear what it was, but it was definitely... Asian.
His face gradually relaxed as he found a familiar face.
Looking down from the second floor, he saw a woman with a petite build moving diligently. He was watching her quickly moving boxes when he went down to the first floor to offer some help.
- I... can I help you...? ..Are you by any chance Korean..??
- .....?
-Me..?
- Ah! You're Korean! Nice to meet you. I'll be staying across the street. Can I help you out?
- .......?
He suddenly appeared, made a statement, and then offered to help out of the blue.
She looked at him with meaningful eyes and said a word.
- It's a lot heavier than I thought. It's expensive.
- I think it would be better to just go your own way without worrying about it.
- I appreciate the intention, but... it's okay.
- Ah... ah, yes.
His eyes quickly rolled as he placed the box he had picked up in a daze back on the floor.
Meanwhile, she quickly moved the boxes into the store and glanced at him who was still standing in front of her.
- If you have time, could you help me with this?
- Yes? Yes, yes..! It's possible! ..but what...
- Hahaha, first, come into the store. It's small, but
Namjoon, who had entered the store again in a daze, looked around the store as if it was new.
Unlike the narrow interior, the side walls were all made of glass, giving it an open feel. In the corner of the store, a monochromatic tent was hung, which was strangely enough, and the late afternoon sunlight filtered through, creating a very romantic atmosphere.
- ...What are you doing here..
- It's a photo studio. It's small, but they still have quite a few regular customers.
- Oh, can you come over here and help me with this?
- I'm short, so I can't reach all the way to the top of that shelf.
- Ah, yes, yes..! What, what...
- Please arrange the lenses in the box one by one on the shelf.
I'll do the bottom, so please just do the top.
- yes..!
"What is this, such a solemn reply?" she laughed out loud at his military-like response and handed him a box containing lenses.
How can someone this naive survive in this blind, nose-bleeding New York? Look at this, stepping into an unfamiliar place without hesitation.
Amidst the busy movements of his hands, Namjoon's lips were extremely serious as he carefully touched the expensive lenses, not caring what she was thinking, so as not to leave any fingerprints.
***
- I think I've... done it all...
- Oh, I finished it too. Thank you. Thanks to you, I finished it quickly.
- Would you like to go to the bakery over there and get something to eat? I'll buy it to show my appreciation for your help.
- Ah... You don't have to do that... This is just something I...
- I thought it would be uncomfortable. And... I thought you'd help me next time too? Hahaha. Come without any pressure.
- This isn't Joseon, it's America, and New York at that. It's okay.
Namjoon followed her, scratching his head in embarrassment as she smiled brightly and led him without hesitation.
The first floor bakery that Peter mentioned earlier.
The two people sitting next to each other by the window finally looked at each other and started talking.
Started.
Namjoon, a little nervous, explained his name and the reason he came to New York in an excited voice. Even his appearance seemed to be amused, and she burst into a refreshing laugh. Her name was Dain. Her English name was Diane. So, just call her whatever you like.
She came to the United States with her father when she was five years old, and said that she opened her current photo studio herself using her father's camera. She also said that she is satisfied with making photography her career.
- I have a picture I really want to take. .. Even though it may be a little lacking now, there will definitely come a day when I can take it, right?
- Considering that you run a photo studio by yourself, you should be able to take pictures like that in no time.
- If you happen to take a picture, please show it to me.
- Okay, I will.
Namjoon, whose ears turned slightly red as he saw her smiling at him once again, was about to clear his throat by coughing, when she got up from her seat and brought the bread he had ordered.
No, it's closer to a cake than a bread.
- Have you tried this?
- ...Oh, no, I haven't tried it... This is my first time... seeing it.
- Hey, come on, try it now. No matter how much I miss Korean food, I couldn't give up on not being able to eat it in America.
- It's cheesecake. Oh, cheese is made by curdling milk. ..uh, milk is like that,
- I know that. Cheese and milk. I've had them before... but this is the first time I've seen them like this...
- Try it quickly. This is my favorite dessert.
- Oh, is that so..? ....Then,
A triangular piece of cheesecake was cut off with a fork and placed in his mouth. Dain closed her eyes and watched with interest his face, which seemed to be a peculiar way of savoring the cheesecake.
- How is it? The taste,
- ..Uh.... It's very soft.. Sweet and savory.. but strangely sour and bitter taste. Hmm...
Namjoon and Dain's eyes met as they slowly opened their eyes as if they had swallowed a piece of cake.
- .....The taste seems to resemble you...
It was probably the first taste I will never forget in my life.
***
From that day on, Namjoon and Dain often met at the bakery. Her photo studio was clearly visible from his house, and on days when he was out looking for work, she'd often be sitting in the bakery, eating cheesecake.
The repetitive routine made them comfortable. Despite repeated job rejections, he tried again, and Namjoon could proudly say that at the heart of it all was Dain's comfort and advice.
But that didn't mean he wasn't exhausted. He still lacked a clear goal, and the constant rejection and negative comments often pushed him to his limits.
- .....Do you like taking pictures that much? Don't you get tired of doing it every day?
- Well... actually, I like what you said then more than that.
- The more you keep talking, the more powerful it becomes.
- ...what..
- .......... Light, camera, action,
Shoot
- ah....
The eyes were lightly closed, as if imagining a good memory, no, a dreamlike scene, and the corners of the lips were gently turned up. As Namjoon watched the expressions, which suddenly became serious, he felt as if a flash had gone off before his eyes.
The light was so intense and bright. The feeling of my mind being completely cleared and filled with only her was so overwhelming that it was almost impossible to describe.
He felt like he couldn't live without her anymore. Ever since that day a few months ago, it had become a habit, like eating cheesecake. It hadn't been long, but he'd already been completely absorbed by her.
- ...If I get rejected for a job five more times, will you be able to get me a job at a photo studio?
- Hmm..? I don't have that much money. I can barely make ends meet..?
- I won't take any money for the first few months because I need to learn the job. It's just... after all, it's easier to work with two people than with one.
- And... the number of guests can also increase.
- Hmm... I'll think about it. But, heh... I think it might be good.
..I don't know.
- ...I'll do that if I get rejected for a job 10 times. Surely, I'll get one of those.
- ..... I think I need to start looking for a job diligently from now on.
To fill all those times.
- Hahahahaha! You should think about getting a job, what if you think about getting rejected first? Hahahahaha
- Hahaha, is that so? Because I really want the job I'll get after being rejected, haha
The time we spent smiling and facing each other passed by sweetly. Even the occasional special days felt like they were all created just for us.
Now, Namjoon visited her photo studio as often as he visited the bakery downstairs. Though clumsy, he carefully brushed the dust off her lens, and when she was in the darkroom developing her photos, he would often sweep the floor and wipe down her chairs.
And then one day, for the first time, he sat on a chair inside a tent that had been set up to take pictures.
A spot with a clear view of the streets of New York. People walking along the open road could be seen, and the vivid sense of being in a foreign land was palpable.
- Doesn't that place make you think a lot?
- Yes..? Oh, when did you come out?
- A little while ago. Namjoon's expression looked a bit serious, so I didn't say anything.
- ........
- If it's your first time sitting here... I think everyone would be like that.
- ...I feel awkward and nervous for no reason.
I wasn't saying this to try to agree with her words, I really did.
A leather chair with a slightly rough surface and a wide cloth spread out under your feet. An incongruous camera standing right in front of you and a panoramic view of the New York streets through the window right next to you.
I was hesitant to turn around, worried that someone might be watching, but the scene came to mind and made me turn my head again.
That place was made specifically that way.
- ...Is that why? The expressions of the people sitting there taking pictures all looked stiff.
- ah...
- It would be nice if you could at least smile. Stretch the corners of your mouth, like this_
She smiled, the corners of her mouth twitching, and gazed at him, her eyes furrowed. Her voice, muttering something about how she'd buy it in a heartbeat if she could magically raise her lips just by speaking, lingered in his ear. Light flickered before his eyes again.
- cheese,
- yes?
- Cheese... how about it...?
- A word that brings a smile to your face just by saying it.
-ㅋㅋㅋ Namjoon, don't you like cheese too much? Not everyone would laugh when they talk about cheese.
- No, that's not it. That's not it. If you pronounce cheese slowly,
- like this.....
- .......
- A smile appears on your lips.
The sunset reflected from the window was captured in his deeply sunken glasses.
At that time, Dain looked at his face without answering.
The corners of her lips, which slowly rose as if possessed, were erased along with the regret reflected in her eyes.
***
From that day on, Namjoon's visits to Dain became significantly less frequent. A telegram arrived from Joseon every other day, telling him to stop being a guest and return home, as he had been in America for quite some time. And now, his money was running low.
Anyway, I guess I have to go back. The ship heading to Joseon is on the 15th of this month.
If I leave now, I won't see her again for at least half a year... ...I don't think I can just leave without saying anything. I have to keep the promise we made between us.
It was an irresponsible thought, but I vaguely thought about just throwing it all away.
In history, whether it was shining shoes or selling newspapers on the street,
If I save up money, I might be able to be with her.
No, I'm more pathetic because I only think about it in my head but can't actually put it into practice.
Am I still living under my parents' roof?
If only I could meet her and open up to her, I could somehow find an answer. I would promise to return, even if it was only after six months. But her photo studio remained closed, and I couldn't see her in the bakery window where I often glanced, or on the street where I often went for a walk. However, the only way to confirm that she hadn't left was to see her silhouette, seemingly busy, under the intermittent lights of the photo studio that turned on and off late one night.
But I couldn't even think of doing anything because she would just grab something and disappear again...
I wanted to see her.
It's been so long since we met that I can't even count the number of times I've felt this way, but my heart was telling me so.
I loved every single moment we spent together. I loved the changing shadows of the sunset, each passing hour. I loved the bitter aftertaste of the cheesecake I now habitually ate. When I pieced together the fragmented memories from this place, it was ultimately her. If we were going to part ways like this, what was I supposed to do?
He couldn't break up like this. It wasn't acceptable. Since that day, Namjoon had been concentrating his energy on grabbing her collar whenever he could, and only after two or three failed attempts was he finally able to face her.
That was the day before he left America, and it was a night when the moon, which was nearing full, was hidden behind clouds.
- Hey... Dain...!
- .....
- Namjoon...?
- You're not sleeping at this hour... What are you doing...?
- ...I've been waiting. I have something to tell you.
- ...?
- ..........
- Should we... walk?
His heart raced as he walked alongside her. It felt like he was sprinting down this road. The woman he'd longed for so long to see was the same as before, a faint smile on her lips, silent. The fleeting moments were sweet, yet equally bitter. Things were going smoothly, yet somehow, there was a suffocating feeling. He felt bitter, wondering if she'd been so eager to see him that she'd been suffocating him.
- ....Tomorrow is the full moon.
- That's right.
- ...Ms. Dain,...have you ever made a wish on a full moon?
- ..a wish on a full moon...
- I don't really feel like it.
- ...why....
- The moon rises and sets. I'm afraid that the empty wish I made on the full moon, when the moon is at its biggest, will one day shrink to a crescent moon, and then disappear.
- Even if you pray earnestly, you forget it as time passes.
- ........
- I like making wishes on the full moon.
- Just like the saying that the reason a wish comes true when a meteor falls is not because of the falling meteor, but because a wish made earnestly in that moment will definitely come true.
- ......It's not the moon that changes, it's us that move.
- I made this wish on the full moon, when the moon is at its most visible. Even if we change, my wish will remain the same. So, as long as I don't forget, it will come true. Absolutely.
- ......
- Haha.. It's kind of philosophical. ... I think Namjoon is right.
Even though we were walking side by side, she would turn her head and smile at me.
I wish this moment could last forever. May this memory linger like a fragrance, like a lingering feeling, enveloping me.
Please, stay by my side forever.
.
.
.
***
The next day_
As if out of habit, he got up from bed and checked the photo studio outside the window. As expected, there was no one there. The aquamarine sky gradually turned azure, and the hazy dawn fog gradually cleared before Namjoon finally got up and began to slowly pack his bags. He didn't even know if the lingering, uneasy feeling was a mild regret or a heavy attachment.
Namjoon, with his last remaining fountain pen and even his outerwear draped over his arm, exchanged a brief greeting with Peter at the first-floor bakery and headed toward the port. The ship departed at 9 p.m. There was still plenty of time left, but he strolled along the street again, as if it were his usual routine.
Only after realizing that everything he held in his hand was a gift meant for Dain did he return to the street where he had been staying. He briefly considered just sitting in the photo studio and waiting. I hadn't even told her I was leaving today. If we were to part ways like this, if we were to be torn apart like this, the words I hadn't been able to say would burst out at any moment, spilling out and rippling through my toes.
It was 8 p.m. One by one, streetlights began to come on, and the distant harbor was filled with the bustle of ships arriving. In the three hours or so he waited on that street, he realized one thing: she probably wouldn't be here today. And to her, he was just a good friend—that's all.
It was definitely sweet at first. How did it end up like this? I was foolish enough to fall for it helplessly, but it was too much to criticize, because every moment was a shining memory. This is how I will ultimately remember New York. And I will live my whole life with this memory.
When I return to Joseon, I should make and sell cheesecakes.
Time flew by relentlessly, and vain thoughts raced past. It was truly time to go. Carrying half the luggage I'd brought with me, I set off toward the harbor, visible in the distance.
Streetlights lined the streets, and as evening approached, the streets became quieter, while buildings lit up in every house. As they approached the port, the streets became even more deserted, and the surroundings became more chaotic. The hand holding his luggage tightened for no reason. Namjoon, who had slipped one hand out of his pocket, turned his head to see if something was wrong, when a sudden gunshot pierced his ear, stopping him in his tracks.
His gaze, instinctively searching for the source of the sound, swung back and forth, dizzy. Then, beneath the bright full moon, a figure soared like a phantom, leaving him paralyzed, as if struck in the back of the head.
As I was running to the other side, my legs still as if they were rooted to the ground, the sound of the ship's horn vibrated loudly as if it were a lie. And at the same time, I heard another gunshot.
There were no people outside anymore. There were no houses with lights on and making a lot of noise.
Why? Why?
My head was racing to get on that boat, but my feet were running towards where the gunshots had come from.
The scarf I'd bought for her crumpled and fluttered in my hand, and the dangling hat finally fell off and sprawled on the street. There was no definitive proof that the silhouette that had suddenly soared was her, but it just happened. Just as I couldn't take my eyes off her the first time I saw her, even now, it was she who gripped and shook all my senses and beliefs.
Why is this damned premonition so unerring? He found himself on the same street where he'd been wandering like a ghost just an hour before, facing a completely incongruous situation.
In a corner of the street, Dain collapsed as if on a lie, and a rifle beside her. And the sound of her breathing, tense and precarious, as if it would end at any moment. A suppressed groan.
He denied that all of this was absurd, yet he carried her to the photo studio, and the sight of her panting and sweating hot blood on his fingertips was something he had never imagined.
And then, a second jolt pierced his head.
- .........
- .....
Namjoon rushed into the photo studio, locked the door, and even drew the curtains. He then ran to Dain, who was leaning against the wall and breathing heavily.
Her bangs were damp with sweat, her lips pale as she stood up. She was holding back a moan with all her might, and her blood was already staining the studio floor.
He shouted at her. No, he seemed to be crying.
- Why... why do you carry a gun and live so dangerously..! Why!!
- ...I just live by taking pictures I like.. Why....
- ...Namjoon.. Namjoon, sir.... Go quickly. Hurry up
- You were with me... Ha, ..You can't get caught..
- Don't say anything. ...Damn it, why won't the bleeding stop..!!!
The flowing scarf he'd bought for her was stained with blood. The light seeping through the cracks in the curtains, the murmur of voices and footsteps, and even the cold hand of her restraining his hand, which was pressing against his abdomen, where blood was gushing out, were all he didn't like. He simply felt resentment.
- ....Nam..Jun-ssi,..you have to leave..to Joseon.
- Go ahead. ..... Leave me here...
- Stop talking nonsense. ...Someday... there was a picture I really wanted to take.
You really have to take a picture of that, okay?
- .......he...
The corners of her mouth, which were briefly stained with blood, slowly rose. Just like the moment I raised the corners of my mouth when I looked at her.
- ....This was... the photo... I wanted to take.
- sorry.....
- Yes. I'm sorry. If you're sorry, please... please live.
- ...romantic, ...the last of New York, this....so...
- ..sorry.........
Her body, trembling with pain, suddenly stopped. As if nothing had happened in the first place. There was no longer any movement in the hand that had been holding her. ...She was still so warm. It felt as if she would rise and move at any moment. As time flowed silently, as if everything had stopped, the last long growl of her stomach rang. Very long. As if nothing would ever return.
I still haven't grasped the last photo she said she would take, and I've never forgotten the moment she breathed her last in my arms. Everything felt like an illusion. Me, breathing alone in the darkened photo studio. And her, sleeping like a painting in my arms. The light breaking beneath the curtains. Shattered. Broken.
***
The store, where the owner never showed up, quickly sold out. Namjoon, who had been slowly writing on the counter, where her devotion had been imprinted, suddenly found himself organizing a drawer. And there, he found a note, likely written by her.
[ shoot, please don't run away when it gets to that point. ]
And rusty bullets, and scratched lenses.
Ah... He sighed deeply, like the wind. He remembered that moment, the dizziness and blurring of vision, as if all the blood had drained from his body, would be the only time he'd ever experienced that. English words originally had multiple meanings. So, it was his fault for not being able to grasp the other meanings contained in the word "shoot." How could he have known that she, whose job was photography, would have pulled the trigger with the same hand that pressed the shutter?
He picked up his camera right then and there. Sadly, it was the only thing her death had changed, and it would be seen again someday. He had taken up her work, and he had decided to walk with her. That was his love, and it was his last best.
A year later, Namjoon returned to Joseon. The son of Gyeongseong's wealthiest man, he made a living by taking pictures. He spent his life being ridiculed for devoting himself solely to such menial tasks. Instead of pulling the trigger he couldn't, he took a photograph with the same meaning. A moment that would endure forever, transcending time and history.
I just kept it quiet.
That was his life, and the traces she would leave behind.
Diane, the wish I made that day wasn't something so light.
Even though your wish on the full moon was so earnest, one day
I said I didn't want to go because I thought it would shrink like the setting moon.
My empty wish that day was for a full moon filled with light to always rise by your side.
Now you can forever remember the last full moon we met. It was a particularly frustrating night, writing letters by the faint moonlight.
Diane.
May the path I walk be one that matches yours.
ps. I'm leaving behind the cheesecake I enjoyed so much. I'm sure this memory was a good one for both you and me.
_1927, New York
End_