Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Standing Up for Mom
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"Sorry, kids. My hand slipped..."
"What the hell? That's hilarious. Why are you talking down to us?"
"Yeah, right. When did you ever see us to talk like that? Do you even know us, lady?"
"Selling tteokbokki at the market and acting all high and mighty like some boomer?"
"...I'm sorry, kids."
"Not 'I'm sorry,' say 'I'm truly sorry.'"
Song Yeo-reum spoke like she was teaching a slow child, and Mom didn't respond.
Song Yeo-reum and her crew snickered again as Mom pretended not to hear and wiped up the spilled broth from the floor with a rag.
"Hey, hey. Take a picture, take a picture."
They blatantly shoved their phone cameras in her face.
Even as these kids—half her age—humiliated her, pretending not to hear was the best Mom could do.
"Hey, so when are we getting those wet wipes?"
"Shouldn't you clean our shoes too?"
Come on, seriously though.
Isn't messing with parents crossing the line?
"...Kids, I've been trying to hold back as much as possible, but... earlier, you stuck your leg out in the path as I was walking by. I dodged, but you extended your leg, and my shin hit your foot... That's why I fell."
"Whoa, she says she held back. Like anyone thinks a market lady was going easy on us."
"Who asked you to hold back? Don't."
"Hey, Song Yeo-reum."
I cut in.
"Did you trip my mom?"
I tried to ask as calmly as possible, but my voice trembled. Song Yeo-reum smirked at me.
"So what if I did?"
"......"
"What then? Gonna call the cops?"
"......"
"You can't. This dump doesn't even have CCTV."
Go ahead and try, Song Yeo-reum taunted, leaning in with a grin.
"......"
If I were 29, I'd have actually called the cops.
Reported them for property damage and business interference, summoned their parents—the ones responsible for supervising them—extracted compensation for the broken dishes and more, and ripped into them about properly raising their kids.
I'd have made them feel what it's like to see their parents humiliated because of them.
Think getting dragged to the station is a badge of honor? Not scared of your parents showing up?
'We'll see about that.'
Surprisingly few neighborhood punks stay calm when they realize they're the criminals.
Most hide behind the parents they usually trash-talk, unable to even say their own names properly.
That's exactly what I'd have done.
If I were 29.
'But I'm 18 right now.'
If I grabbed my phone and tried reporting them now, Mom wouldn't back me up—she'd say, "Don't report something this trivial," and the cops would dismiss me as just a kid.
'Not like I haven't been through it. It happened on exam day too.'
To my puffy-faced self who'd come to report that morning's old man: "You seem upset about messing up your test, kid. Calm down and go home to rest."
...Wait a second.
Dismissed because I'm a student?
"Argh, how do I tag the location? I wanna post it on our school page."
One of Song Yeo-reum's lackeys—wearing a gaudy hood that looked ridiculously outdated to me—giggled away. Her white smartphone, cased in a pink bunny-eared cover, was blatantly aimed at me and Mom.
That pricey phone, clearly brand new, got a can of cola—rolling on the floor—cracked open and poured right over it.
"Eek!"
The startled lackey dropped her phone and jumped up.
"Fuck! What the hell!"
"Hey! Are you crazy?!"
"Fuck, fuck, fuck..."
The pale-faced girl fumbled to remove the case and turn it on, but it was already dead.
Figures it'd break that fast. Smartphones from ten years ago didn't have water resistance, huh.
Anyway.
'Her vocabulary's so limited she can only say "fuck" to express shock. Pathetic.'
Do people get eerily calm when they're pissed enough?
As I casually thought that, Song Yeo-reum shot to her feet.
Her pricey shoes—the ones she'd been bragging about—were ruined by the cola and tteokbokki sauce dripping from the table.
No way they looked new anymore.
"Hey, Kang Da-hye..."
Song Yeo-reum's voice trembled as she said my name. Just like mine had earlier.
"These cost over a million won. You gonna pay for them?"
I replied coolly to the dumbfounded Song Yeo-reum.
"Why should I pay for that?"
"...What?"
"Got proof? Your shoes. Her phone. Proof I damaged them? No CCTV here, like you said."
"Wha..."
"I'm not paying. If you're mad, call the cops yourself."
I held out my phone: In case yours got wrecked too, report it with this. As she didn't take it, I explained slowly.
Like teaching a slow child.
"You always call me a loser, a total nerd. But what looks nerdy to you looks diligent to adults."
Even cops who dismiss students would think differently with a comparison.
"If you report me, I'll deny it. I'll say you came to our shop and caused a scene. Me, in uniform helping Mom at this hour, versus you lot clearly skipping. Who do you think the cops will believe?"
No evidence means it's 100% credibility battle.
"Go ahead, report it. I'm dying to see."
I said with a smile.
Song Yeo-reum lost it first at my smirking taunt.
What followed was just as expected.
'Hey, I can't go to the station again.' Song Yeo-reum's quieter lackey held back her freakout. As the shop got noisy, nearby vendors swarmed in and practically chased Song Yeo-reum's crew out.
As the fuming Song Yeo-reum stormed out, I said,
"Pay up. 21,500 won."
21,500 won at current prices? Mom must've let them order a ton just to screw with her.
"What?"
"Out of kindness, I won't charge for the broken dishes?"
Oh, and.
"If sauce splashes and you're that horrified, those shoes were never in your league anyway. Lesson learned—don't buy them next time."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Kang Da-hye, even so, you can't do that to customers..."
"You reward good customers. Were they customers? They just broke dishes."
"Still, pouring cola? That makes you no better than them."
"No, Mom. The bully and the one fighting back aren't the same. What about pirates and Admiral Yi Sun-sin?"
"That's not what I—"
"Ugh, enough. Go inside. Rest."
I pushed Mom's back, forcing her into the back kitchen.
I righted the table, mopped the floor. When I finished and went in, Mom sat blankly in front of the fridge.
I deliberately made noise approaching. Mom wiped her eyes with her palm and stood.
She rubbed her wet hands on her apron, acting casual.
"Eat."
"Time to eat. You too, Mom? Eaten?"
"You eat. I'm fine."
"Nah, I came to eat with you. Mom, you know rosé tteokbokki?"
"Rosé what?"
"Wait. I'll make it."
After that, it was quiet.
I bustled off to the nearby market for ingredients, made the tteokbokki, and set it down. We sat across at the table, but Mom kept her head down, gloomy.
"...Tastes good."
"Right?"
Then silence again.
I pushed the quail eggs I'd loaded up onto Mom's side plate, changing the subject.
"Mom, later... when I get into a good college and make bank. Let's go overseas."
"Overseas? No."
"Yes. Far away. America? You been?"
"Of course not. Just eat."
"Business class. I'll make enough to treat you."
I boasted about all I'd do once I made it big. Mom finally gave a small smile.
"For real. I'll pamper you."
"I should pamper you. Just take care of yourself and live well."
"......"
"Sorry I can't give you what other kids get."
Drip.
A tear fell onto the back of Mom's hand gripping her chopsticks.
"My daughter, so smart. So many dreams and things you want to do. If you'd been born into a better family, you'd be so much happier now."
Sudden downer mood...
"...Yeah, lots I wanna do."
Fly on a plane.
Eat fish and chips at that blue-sign shop on the Sydney beach Seo Jae-kyeom went to winter break.
Place a super picky, complicated order at a fast-talking Manhattan café.
Succeed on my own terms—one of those things too.
"I'm smart like you say, Mom. Even without your help, I can do it alone."
In this second life, no giving up. Try everything I wanted.
"So cheer me on instead of apologizing. Pump me up."
"...Okay."
"Mom, this is seriously good, right? Sell it as a new menu item? Rosé tteokbokki."
"Nah, not that great."
"What?!"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Next day.
"Ah, didn't get money for workbooks."
Yesterday wasn't the mood to ask...
Anyway.
"Ask Ji-su if it's okay for the three of us—her, Do-yeon, and me—to eat together..."
Ji-su's sweet, so probably fine, but still ask.
I crossed the crosswalk thinking that. Heading up the hill to the school gate, a familiar back came into view.
"Oh, Ji-su."
Some nerve.
I raised my hand to wave happily, then froze.
Seo Jae-kyeom was walking with Ji-su.
He naturally carried her big bag. Their eyes met, and he smirked, saying something.
Ji-su burst out laughing.