Painful Reality 3
“It's easier to blame the victims.”
“Pardon?”
“When family members break down, society loses its momentum. That's why laws are needed to seal off situations like this. Now that industrialization is advancing further, women's education will accelerate too, and things that used to slide under customary law will shift to criminal law. The government needs a way to cover its ass.”
“Covering ass instead of solving it?”
“This country grew way too fast. Civic awareness, economic base, education levels—all imbalanced. Back under military rule, everyone shut up and endured, but now with all this civilian government talk, incidents are blowing up everywhere. The regime quietly passed the buck to hush them. Wrap this up neatly, and they can probably skate by for another century.”
“There are ways to fix it, but they go with half-assed measures...”
“It's not our job. Worrying this much is plenty, isn't it?”
“...”
“It's all over your face. That's why I use you—guys whose fronts and backs match up are so convenient. Don't get so heated. My nationality is Korean, like you think. But I'm not one of those idiots who assume having Korean citizenship makes this their motherland unconditionally.”
Ignoring the man who clenched his fists to swallow his rage, the other smirked faintly as he gazed out at the city beyond the high-rise building.
“This country gives me so damn much. I'm dying to know what other little gifts it'll hand over.”
“This is a little gift?”
Turning with a leisurely smile at the fury in the man's voice, he said, “Haven't you already received my big gift?”
“What...”
“I cleaned up those nationalists for you, and you still don't know? What a fun country. Haha.”
Shocked by the man's words, his interlocutor sank into his seat without realizing it. Even knowing this, the man said nothing, just sneered coldly at the ecstatic city nightscape.
Come to think of it, it's a weird country that clearly knows the path to improvement but always veers off and gets lost somewhere stupid.
The walk home was noisier than usual. With the usually quiet Jong-hyuk chattier, the three of us guys plunged into the alley like we were out to prove that three men together could shatter a plate. Joo-shin trailed behind with his friends, seemingly uninterested in our chatter—unlike usual. Since my dismissal time had sped up, he didn't need to wait at school anymore, so this was his first time heading home with friends in ages.
Adjusting my pace to match theirs—not too fast—I listened to their lively banter behind me as we slowly made our way home. Today, instead of the library, we'd agreed to gather at Jong-hyuk's, grab lunch there, hang out, and head home before dinner. Unless something came up, it was our Saturday ritual.
“Oh yeah, Mom's not home today.”
“Yeah? Where'd she go?”
“To an alumni meetup after forever.”
“Lunch is ramen then?”
“Nah, she made bulgogi for lunch and left it. Just heat it up.”
I caught Joo-shin running up after parting from my friends and grabbed his backpack with one hand. Suppressing his rebellion against having it taken, I said, “You know how to heat it up, right?”
“Why worry when you've got me?”
Ignoring Jong-hyuk and Kyung-soo's teasing jabs—“enemy of men,” “public enemy”—I slung Joo-shin's bag over one shoulder and said, “I'll drop the bags at home and head up. You wash up too, Joo-shin.”
“You're overdoing it—look at Joo-shin's sulky face.”
“Still gotta wash after school. Catch a cold otherwise.”
It had become habit since the global virus outbreak, but in this era, it might seem overly hygienic. I don't care if I do, but Joo-shin's still a kid, so better safe. Worried he'd catch something from me, I'd made it routine to wash up simply after coming in from outside.
Maybe seeing me wash him and handle meals made Jong-hyuk's mother trust that he wouldn't starve with me around—unlike before regression, she went out more often, leaving the house empty.
I hadn't expected her occasional absences to lead here... Her glamorous outfit was unusual, and suddenly my head spun—a dizzying flash like static from an old speaker, scolding voices laced with noise flooding in.
Stunned by Jong-hyuk's mother's unusually flashy return—and her rushing to her room without even greeting Jong-hyuk—we froze. Always poised, cultured without show, her only “flaw” was generous portions when cooking. If pressed, overflowing love for Jong-hyuk.
Thankfully, his father kept balance, preventing mama's boy syndrome. Without that indifference buffer, Jong-hyuk would've been helpless without her.
Seeing her son and friends home, yet entering shocked and silent—Jong-hyuk couldn't hide his worry.
“Something wrong?”
“Where were you today?”
“Alumni gathering.”
“Not a reunion, a gathering?”
“Heard it's a small group of close college friends. She's gone a few times, but never back this early.”
“First time seeing that face at you, Jong-hyuk.”
“Creepy a bit. Just me?”
“Nah, Joo-shin's hiccupping from shock.”
I gave Joo-shin sips of water and said, “High school alumni?”
“No, college.”
“What? Your mom went to university?”
“Yeah, didn't I say? Hwai Women's University...”
“News to me. Prestigious?”
“Worth bragging, and she is impressive.”
“She doesn't talk about herself. Heard from Dad.”
“Hwai Women's—top-tier for women's colleges, right?”
“More shocking thing.”
“What? Bigger than that?”
“Mom passed the media exam too...”
“What?”
“Shouldn't she work at a broadcaster?”
“Journalist?”
“Heard she married Dad right after passing.”
“Waste... Media exam's brutal, right?”
“Exactly.”
Our chat fizzled there; with drowsy Joo-shin, Kyung-soo and I headed home. Walking Kyung-soo to the alley's end, Jong-hyuk bit his lip on the way back and said, “Mom's too...”
“Huh? What's with your mom?”
“Dunno how to put it, but that insurance thing you mentioned...”
“We all got it done, right?”
“Yeah... But she said she has tons of insurance.”
“Yeah.”
“Duplicates for Dad and me, but zilch for herself. If you hadn't pushed, none at all.”
“What?”
Usually, the breadwinner got insurance due to tight budgets—but Jong-hyuk's family had duplicates for father and son only. Surprising.
“...Didn't she say she's insurance-savvy?”
“Kyung-soo's mom told me—you should know...”
“Why...?”
No way she's after the payout? But pre-regression, I only heard she was doing fine.
Seeing my shock confirmed he wasn't alone, he said seriously, “Mom... doesn't seem to get it.”
“What?”
“How vital she is to me and Dad...”
“Your maternal grandparents strict?”
“Yeah, heard it's an ancestral clan home. Lucky she's a daughter—outlaw by marriage, no rituals—but they still call her big house folk, wear hanbok daily.”
“Never visited?”
“She goes, never takes me. Nothing good to see.”
“...”
“You sensing something?”
“Not sure.”
“No big deal, right?”
“Not that... Hey, you. Can't handle without Mom hovering?”
“What? Hate that interference. Ease up on Joo-shin too—painful watching.”
“Me...?”
You haven't seen 21st-century skirt winds.
“You're intense. Joo-shin might run hating you.”
“Ugh...”
Overdoing it?
“Joo-shin's young. Anyway, we're high schoolers—time to self-manage...”
Jong-hyuk looked surprised, like the thought never crossed his mind—not negative.
“What? Mom?”
“Why not? Overflowing talent. No reason she can't.”
“Never thought...”
“Starting work could stimulate her—for your family. If you and Dad okay, hand it over now.”
“Well...”
In the twilight alley's dusk, we missed the slow-approaching footsteps and long shadows behind.
“Mind if I hear you and Jong-hyuk's opinion?”
“Dad.”
“Ah...”
It was Jong-hyuk's father, owner of the shadow.
Not alley-chat weather, we sat in his study sipping hot tea, rehashing my pitch to Jong-hyuk.
“Entrusting the foundation to my wife? Even as director?”
“If Jong-hyuk's mother agrees. If not, maybe just PR?”
“Why think that?”
“She seemed down today. Jong-hyuk's grown; maybe lacks chat fodder at gatherings? Running a foundation's busy but fulfilling—topics for friends, better mood. Win-win-win?”
Jong-hyuk's father gazed silently.
Can't say I saw her youth...
I met his eyes, hoping sincerity shone through. Study air stayed heavy; Jong-hyuk squirmed to escape.
Hiding more might backfire, so I revealed a bit: “Heard she graduated university, passed media exam. Devoted to raising Jong-hyuk at home—and he turned out great. Accomplishment. Waste not using that talent? You're busy as professor; she's capable, time-rich now. If she's willing.”
He glanced at Jong-hyuk, stood, said he'd talk to his wife—Jong-hyuk's mother.
I patted Jong-hyuk's back encouragingly and headed home.
“You really think Mom can do it?”
“Dude, she aced parenting—the hardest. That job? She'd nail it lounging with TV.”
“Maybe...”
“And it's our foundation from good deeds and lottery cash. Pushing who we want as director? Fine.”
“Technically your lottery win.”
“Same diff. Enjoy dinner. Tell her thanks for side dishes. Bye.”
*
Gazing at the study door as the extraordinary friend of his son left, Mun Jin-myeong reminisced.
Snapping from deepening recall, he downed study whiskey, slumped on sofa.
Too busy surviving to think...
Platanus leaf from young wife's dream talk:
I am a person...
“...”