Chapter 2
Chapter 2
I doubted my ears for a moment. I looked back and forth between the doctor and the woman with a blank expression.
"Who? That noona... no, no... that person is my Mom?"
I was now twenty-two. No matter how I looked at her, that woman seemed to be in her early thirties, at most her mid-thirties.
"Um... you're joking, right?"
"Huh? What do you mean by that..."
At my words, the doctor made a face asking what I meant, and I couldn't help but look dumbfounded.
"I'm twenty-two, you know? But that person, she clearly looks to be in her early thirties, no, even if I'm generous, she looks mid-thirties?"
The doctor, perhaps flustered by my reaction, cleared his throat and avoided my gaze. But then it happened. Amidst that serious and mournful atmosphere, a very incongruous reaction was detected.
"Oh my, this child... why are you acting like this in front of everyone?"
She covered her flushed cheeks with her palms and mumbled shyly, yet with a very pleased voice.
"For Mom to be told she looks like she's in her early thirties despite her age... Hoho, it must be a bit embarrassing for the doctor-nim to hear, right?"
(Hey... she's smiling...)
(She's smiling?)
But everyone saw it. Her lips twitching and curling up uncontrollably...
"Son, why are you making Mom sad~? I'm forty-three this year. I'm a Horse-year baby, born in '78~?"
She twisted her body like a girl, dropping a nuclear-bomb-level number that seemed to warp the space-time of the hospital room.
"......Forty, what? Three?"
Instinctively, I narrowed my eyes and 'scanned' her face.
Wrinkles around her eyes? None. Zero.
Nasolabial folds? What are those? Are they edible?
Neck wrinkles? Even an iron would leave more wrinkles than that.
According to my experience, having met countless 'Auntie' and 'Mom' while working as a delivery agent, a 43-year-old Korean woman looking like that wasn't just a matter of good self-care; it was a vampire level of completely devouring the concept of time itself.
"Lies.... That's impossible..."
Unconsciously, my true feelings blurted out. And at that moment. Her lips, which had been twitching as she forcibly suppressed her bursting laughter, were finally unsealed.
"Oh my, oh my! Look at this child! Hohoho~ Oh dear, I don't know, I don't know~!"
Smack-!!
Overwhelmed with uncontrollable joy, she smacked the doctor's back, performing a tap dance of delight.
"Ahem, ahem! Protector-nim, please calm down...."
The doctor-nim, perhaps feeling the sting of the red handprint on his back, awkwardly stumbled backward. It seemed he instinctively realized his HP was far too low to handle the crazy tension in this area.
"The patient's condition is... well, there are no physical external injuries, so let's have him rest until the detailed examination results come out. Well then, I have rounds to make!"
Watching the white-gowned figure flee the hospital room, I futilely reached out my hand.
[Hey, don't leave me! Don't leave me alone with this unidentified lifeform(?)!]
But mercilessly, the door closed firmly, and only I and the unidentified 'youthful beauty (self-proclaimed Mom)' were left in the hospital room. As if she hadn't just been tap-dancing, she instantly switched her expression to 'elegant Cheongdam-dong Lady mode' and sat gracefully on the chair.
TN: Cheongdam-dong is Seoul's most exclusive district, synonymous with wealth and high-class refinement. A 'Cheongdam-dong Lady' is a specific archetype — think Beverly Hills housewife energy.
"My son... your head must hurt a lot. You can't even recognize Mom."
The moment she stroked the back of my hand, I instinctively pulled it away. A warm, soft touch. The scent of roses. A luxurious hospital room. And an Mom who looked to be in her twenties. Everything was so perfect that it felt completely unreal.
(...Wait. Calm down, Minho.)
I swallowed dryly and organized the situation in my head.
I was hit by a truck. I almost died.
When I opened my eyes, my body was perfectly fine.
A beautiful woman I've never seen before claims to be my Mom.
What is the most rational inference here?
1. This is a dream.
2. Someone is playing a hidden camera prank on me to mess with me.
3. This is an Iseka-y, no, an Isekai...
Among these three, the best way to determine if it wasn't a dream was pain. When I pinched my cheek hard enough to hurt, a curse word naturally burst from my mouth.
"Ow! Fuck! It hurts!!!! Judging by the pain, it's not a dream, is it?"
"What's wrong with you?"
"Ah... I'm sorry. I thought this might be a dream..."
"Honestly..."
Judging by the stinging pain in my cheek, this was definitely not a dream. At that moment, the touch of her, no, the ajumma, no, the person who claimed to be my Mom, was incredibly warm.
(Judging by the pain, it's not a dream...)
If so, the first inference, 'This is a dream,' was definitively deleted, leaving me with the suspicion that '2. This is a hidden camera prank.' However, I soon shook my head from side to side.
(Who would play a hidden camera prank on me unless they were crazy?)
If I were famous, maybe, but a hidden camera prank on me, a Dirt Spoon among Dirt Spoons, who's less than 'passing person 1'? No matter how I thought about it, that made no sense, so I boldly dismissed it, leaving only one possibility.
(Then this is Isekai? Nah... where would such a thing exist?)
Then was the truck that hit me from behind a Reincarnation Truck? I made a bitter smile and shook my head at the ridiculous thought.
"Um... noona, no, no... what should I call you? Anyway... my memories are a bit jumbled right now, so I need to confirm a few things."
I spoke in as dry and calm a voice as possible. Whether I was crazy, this woman was crazy, or the world was crazy. I needed a fact check.
"What is your name?"
"You said you had amnesia, but you really can't remember... Mom's name is Shin Hye-jeong! Shin, Hye, Jeong."
When she told me her name, I couldn't help but be flustered.
(Huh? The name is indeed my Mom's name...)
It was definitely the name of my wretched Mom that I remembered, but the problem was, the person was too different. The mother in my memories was a woman with a life-worn, wrinkled face and fierce eyes. But this woman in front of me?
Skin so taut you'd believe she was in her twenties, a body draped in luxury brands, and above all, this boundless affection and devotion directed at me. I temporarily set aside the confusion in my mind and decided to confirm the most important practical matter.
"Um... then what's our home address?"
"Address?"
"Yes. I think I need to know where the house I need to return to is."
At my question, she took out a Resident Registration Card from her handbag and handed it to me.
"Here, take it. It's your Resident Registration Card. Just in case, Mom brought it."
I took the plastic card with trembling hands.
[ Resident Registration Card ] Name : Minho Resident Registration Number : 980512 - 1XXXXXX
The name, the first part of the Resident Registration Number. They matched my memory exactly. Even the face... But the moment my gaze fell upon the address at the very bottom, I had to take another sharp breath.
[ Seoul Metropolitan City, GangX-gu, XguX-dong, X Apartment, Building 1XX... ]
"......XguX-dong?"
For a moment, I doubted my eyes. Apgujeong-dong. The symbol of wealth in Korea, and a melting pot of desires.
The address of our house that I remembered was 'the top of a hillside neighborhood in SeongX-gu, a 10-pyeong semi-basement where mold grew on the wallpaper whenever it rained.' Of course, that was also the address before we were evicted. But this Resident Registration Card was telling me that I lived in the heart of Korea's prime real estate.
"Um... Mother?"
"Yes?"
"Is our house... here, by any chance?"
I pressed my trembling index finger firmly on the address. Please tell me it's a different place with the same name, where a person with the same name lives.
But she replied with utmost composure.
"Of course, where else would it be? You moved there when you started elementary school and have lived there ever since. Why, you don't even remember your home?"
(Since elementary school... a native of XguX-dong for over 10 years?!)
A calculator started spinning at a frantic pace in my head. How much was the market price for apartments in that neighborhood? It would easily exceed 100 million won per pyeong.
The difference in market value between my 30,000 won bank balance and that apartment was roughly 100,000 times or more.
'This is....'
This wasn't merely a setting change on the level of 'my Mom became pretty.' This was a complete genre shift.
From <Human Theater: Tears of a Delivery Youth Overcoming Poverty> to <The Heirs: The Elegant Amnesia of a Third-Generation Chaebol>.
(If it's not a hidden camera prank and it's not Isekai... then could I have possessed the body of a Minho who lived in another world?)
If not, this situation couldn't be explained. With trembling hands, I politely, very politely, held out the Resident Registration Card with both hands and returned it to her. And I put on the gaze of the kindest, most well-behaved son in the world.
"Ah, I think I'm starting to remember now...."
"Really? You really remember?"
"Yes, vaguely."
With trembling hands, I politely, very politely, held out the Resident Registration Card with both hands and returned it to her. And I put on the gaze of the kindest, most well-behaved son in the world.
"Um... if you don't mind...."
"Yes? Tell me."
"It's just that my memory is a bit hazy, so...."
I gulped, swallowed, and asked solemnly.
"By any chance... may I call you... no, Mother?"