Rapport
I had no choice but to follow Eunju. The landscaping inside the complex was nice enough that we found a bench right away.
The two of us sat side by side. Eunju slipped her AirPods into their case and asked,
“Do you usually not check your messages much?”
“Not many people contact me in the first place. So I barely look at my phone.”
“That’s funny, because just a minute ago you were texting someone nonstop.”
“…”
She’d seen me texting Teacher Eunju. My face had been split ear to ear in full texting bliss, so it was no wonder she didn’t buy it.
“It wasn’t like that. I was just talking career stuff with my homeroom teacher for a second.”
“Who’s your homeroom teacher, senior?”
“Huh? That would be… Chulgu.”
I never expected that question. The only third-year homeroom teacher name I knew slipped out, and Eunju burst out laughing.
“Pfft… sorry. Too funny to be a coincidence…”
“I didn’t know either until I found out the guy’s nickname is Chulgu. Thanks to that I became the class joke the second I transferred.”
Boys and girls were in separate classes, so I prayed she didn’t know any seniors from that class. Heaven was still on my side for once—Eunju didn’t press it.
“So that’s how you know my sister? Because she’s right next door?”
“Hyeonji? She’s next door, yeah, but I barely ever see her face. She vanishes before lunch even starts.”
“But you still talk when you run into each other at school, right?”
“Honestly? We’ve talked more outside school than in.”
Because we’d never actually met inside school. Eunju’s eyes darkened a little with worry.
“What’s with that look again? I already told you I didn’t say anything about you to Hyeonji. Even if she knows something, I don’t know a single thing about you.”
“Not a single thing… isn’t quite true, is it? We’ve known each other for a while now, and honestly I think we’re pretty close among the seniors.”
“Close? Come on, what part of us is close?”
Dangerous talk. Sure, while cosplaying as a high-school boy I’d made a few “acquaintances,” but calling my daughter’s classmate a “friend” was out of the question.
“Is that so? If senior says so, then I guess that’s how it is.”
“…”
Eunju was polite, but she couldn’t hide her feelings completely. The same raw displeasure she’d shown the day she saved my name as [Cheonji High School, Class 2-2, Park Eunju] was written all over her face again.
Ugh… I’d used an apology as an excuse and only managed to ruin her mood. Trying to salvage something, I blurted out more nonsense.
“No, what I mean is… I want to get closer than we are now. So until I can brag that we’re ‘close’ no matter where I go, I want to get to know you carefully.”
“Why would you need to brag about that… What exactly do you want to know about me?”
“Huh? Well…”
Nothing. I’d just said it to cheer her up—why was she latching onto every word?
But if I clammed up again I’d just be the jerk who toyed with people using empty words, so I spun the gears. Luckily the talk with Hyeonji gave me something.
“You were walking while listening to music? What are you into these days?”
“Me? I just take recommendations from people around me and ride the algorithm.”
“Still, you’ve got a favorite artist at least, right? I only listen to old stuff so I have no idea who’s popular now.”
“If I say it you’ll laugh at me…”
“Everyone’s got different tastes—why would I laugh? There are people like me who listen to RHCP.”
“Ah… I listen to them a lot too.”
“Huh? You’re lying.”
“You just said everyone has their own taste. Lately I’ve been into classic rock a bit, listening to this and that.”
“…”
Surprising. She was a classicist like Hyeonji. And her taste was pretty close to mine.
“Weird. Girls usually don’t like that noisy stuff.”
“Isn’t it the same as loving spicy tteokbokki? Sometimes you want to shred your eardrums just to feel better, right? So why did senior suddenly get into rock?”
Because I was originally from that era. Even back then my taste was on the minor side, but I’d listened as a kind of hipster thing and it stuck.
“When my dad died he left a ton of old LPs. When I was little we had a turntable… an LP player at home, so I listened a lot. Guess my taste just hardened that way.”
Mostly true. When I was born Dad was still pretty young, and the LPs he’d collected as a hobby filled the whole storage room.
“I’m kind of jealous. It’s rare to share hobbies with your parents.”
“It wasn’t like I wanted to share them—more like that was the only inheritance he left. Do you have any hobbies you share with yours?”
“Well…”
Eunju, like me, had lost both of her birth parents. She had a stepdad who doted on her like a real father, but I still felt bad for poking a sore spot.
“Sorry. That was a pointless question, wasn’t it?”
“No? Senior just answered the question. Our situations were just different.”
“…”
Still, the mood had wilted a little. I wanted to go home desperately, but ending the conversation here felt wrong.
“Want to talk about something else?”
“Shall we? How was the grave visit yesterday?”
“Not bad. I took that niece I mentioned and had her pour a cup of soju.”
“Poor thing. She still doesn’t really feel that her parents are gone, right? I was the same.”
“Y-yeah, something like that.”
She would never feel it. Because Harin still believed both her parents were alive.
But Eunju, as someone who’d lived it, fully understood Harin’s position.
“There was something weird, though.”
I told her about the mysterious chrysanthemums. Eunju perked up her ears, curiosity piqued.
“Who do you think it was?”
“I have zero idea. The neighborhood people said it was a woman. Maybe my brother’s mistress.”
“M-mistress? Isn’t that a bit extreme?”
“But other than that, there’s no reason those two would have split.”
“Why not? Personality differences, or…”
“If they’d gotten together looking at each other’s conditions, sure.”
“…?”
I’d jumped straight to the conclusion without the lead-up, so she didn’t follow. I decided to fill in the blanks.
“I went to a wedding today, remember? Personally I got the feeling those two only married for each other’s conditions.”
“That’s possible. Adults look at things differently from us.”
“Are you talking about your own case?”
“Dad maybe not, but Mom… I think she might have.”
“…”
Eunju was almost too honest about her family history. A first marriage was one thing, but her late mother’s remarriage had almost certainly involved conditions—a cold, clear analysis.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. But my brother and Yu Jiyeon…”
“Her name was Yu Jiyeon?”
“…”
How many secrets was I planning to spill? Eunju would never meet Yu Jiyeon, sure, but wasn’t my mouth a little too loose?
“A-anyway, those two never looked at conditions. They knew how hard it is for high-school parents and still threw everything away and ran. If people like that split, it has to be that problem, right?”
“There might still be things we don’t know. Neither senior nor I have become that kind of adult yet.”
“…”
True. I’d only aged in years; mentally I was right at their level. Especially when it came to romance.
“But what exactly are ‘conditions’?”
“Specs, right?”
“Is it only things that can be quantified? Looks, or tastes you just can’t accept, or personality flaws. Aren’t those conditions too in the end?”
“…”
As expected of the logic-speaking ace—she hit the bullseye. Let’s assume for a second.
Someone perfect in every way but earning twenty million a year. Someone perfect in every way but who never flushes after taking a dump.
Suppose both get rejected for that one reason. Is the latter really more morally superior than the former?
“I think you’re right. Eunju, have you ever had that? Someone you really liked but a few things bothered you so you turned them down?”
“Not yet. What about senior?”
“No idea. I’ve never dated.”
“You’re… lying, right? There’s no way it’s never happened.”
“It’s true. Minjeong was the closest, but back then my attitude was crystal clear.”
“…”
Eunju looked a little stunned, like she’d just met a unicorn in real life. If I told her it was thirty-four years instead of nineteen she’d probably faint.
“Was Yu Jiyeon… perfect in senior’s eyes? Not a single flaw?”
“Well… looking back there were quite a few, but at the time I couldn’t see them.”
“So you were blind. Then the answer’s clear, right? When you really like someone the flaws disappear. So you end up ignoring conditions.”
“And once the rose-colored glasses come off you see them. In the end we’re all assigning conditions. It’s just that the heart runs ahead.”
Maybe both Sehee and Teacher Eunju were right. With Sehee, whom I’d just met, there hadn’t been enough heart to overcome conditions.
And Teacher Eunju had assumed love from the start, so she never needed to look at conditions. The world never splits cleanly into black and white.
“Sorry. I only talked about boring stuff, didn’t I?”
“No. It was really useful. I don’t think anyone but senior would have this kind of conversation with me.”
“Yeah, I am a bit old-fashioned.”
“That wasn’t really what I meant…”
Eunju smiled awkwardly and let the sentence trail off. But no matter how much Saiyan Syndrome I had, I couldn’t hide the musty vibe unique to a man in his thirties. Eunju would know that better than anyone.
The conversation was winding down. I should have said goodbye around now, but I still hadn’t gotten the answer Hyeonji couldn’t give me.
“Eunju? Can I ask just one thing?”
“If it’s something I can answer?”
“It’s something you can definitely answer. Is there anywhere you want to go?”
“W-why suddenly that?”
Eunju’s eyes went round and she looked flustered. But it wasn’t that hard a question, was it?
“I’m just curious where girls your age want to go. You know—the place you’ve always wanted to visit but something always comes up and the chance never arrives.”
Hyeonji had said if I wanted to get close to Harin I should take her somewhere she liked. But as a fake dad and a man in his thirties I had zero idea where that was.
But Eunju might know.
“Hmm… doesn’t it depend on the person? A place that’s ordinary to someone might be the dream destination for someone else.”
“Just be honest and tell me yours. I might get a hint.”
“If I had to pick… an amusement park? Surprisingly I haven’t been in forever. We should have gone once on a school field trip, but somehow only my class always got skipped.”
“Really? When was the last time?”
“Elementary school? Probably with family…”
Eunju’s voice dropped there. She smiled bitterly, as if an old memory had surfaced.
“Looking back, the last time was with Dad, wasn’t it?”
“…”
She meant the birth father who’d left her with nothing but endless disappointment. A memory frozen in the happiest days, before the family fell apart.
“That’s plenty of reference.”
“You’re not going to tell me why?”
“Uh… that’s a bit much. You’ll figure it out naturally someday, won’t you?”
“…”
Even if it wasn’t an amusement park, if I took Harin anywhere the news would spread at school. It would reach Eunju’s ears eventually, so it wasn’t a complete lie.
Eunju wore a deeply curious expression. But she soon seemed to give up and stood.
“Then… I’ll wait.”
“…?”
Wait for when, exactly?
After finishing the grueling day I came home. A breathless Sunday that started with Sehee, then Teacher Eunju, then Hyeonji, and finally Eunju.
No matter who I met or in what order, the end of the day should have been spent with my beloved daughter. Yet today again Harin’s door was shut tight as a fortress, no answer coming.
Haa… I’d have to give it more time. I turned weakly toward the living room—and locked eyes with Harin, who was curled up on the sofa.
“…?”
Who was this? When had Harin come out here?
“You’re back?”
“Uh… yeah. Just got back.”
Was I the only one who found this situation extremely off? But it was true.
Exchanging greetings in this position was a first since Harin and I started living together.
“Y-you’re out of your room.”
“Yeah.”
“Did a window break or something? Draft coming in so you evacuated?”
“It’s not that.”
“Toilet clogged then? Waiting for me to unclog it?”
“It’s not that.”
“…”
Then what!? Meeting my daughter in the living room for once felt great, but when someone does something they never do, fear comes first.
“Did you… have fun today?”
Harin asked first. Like a stray kitten on the street begging to be made the subject of the sentence.
“Fun… not even a little? More like we split super early. The other person really didn’t like me.”
“…?”
Harin’s expression changed. The darkness packed with extreme gloom lifted, and light full of hope slowly filtered in.
“Why… did that happen? Was it because of me…”
“No! It ended before your name even came up. The reason I’m this late is… the guy who set us up said we should grab a drink to cheer me up.”
Hoo—
I pursed my lips and blew out a breath to prove it. Harin must have found the alcohol smell disgusting; she flinched back in surprise.
“W-what are you doing!?”
Her ears turned bright red and she fidgeted—apparently the smell alone was enough to get her drunk. Sorry about that.
“…”
Then silence again. A small gap had opened, so I thought it over.
Why had Harin been waiting for me in the living room?
The answer was already in her first question. Harin had been wondering whether she was really getting a “new mom.”
Because she didn’t want that. Maybe someday she’d allow it, but not right now.
“Harin? I only went because that guy forced me to meet her. Honestly I have zero interest in meeting women right now.”
“…”
Harin didn’t answer. She’d probably said something before, so she was just quietly listening for now.
“I’m not lying. I’ve only been in Seoul four months and just learning the job is overwhelming. So you don’t have to worry.”
“…”
Harin still said nothing. But it didn’t mean she didn’t want to talk.
Pucker… pucker…
Her lips were moving, however faintly. She had a mountain of things she wanted to say to me, but our unnatural father-daughter relationship seemed to block even a single word.
Then there was only one way to loosen the atmosphere.
“Want some iced tea?”
“No! I don’t think I need any.”
“…”
I’d planned to bring her a glass of iced tea and ease into conversation, but she reacted instantly. Anyone watching would think she hated peach iced tea.
“Just… I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry to Dad for?”
“I said it was fine and then… I’m sorry for that. Somehow… I don’t even know myself.”
“…”
Zing… She was finally being honest. How hard must it have been to hold those words back?
Slide… Wanting to build a more intimate rapport, I carefully sat beside her. Then little by little… Harin scooted her butt and moved as far as she could to the end of the sofa.
Had I been too hasty? With no choice I also inched my butt along until I was at the opposite end.
So father and daughter sat on the same sofa, yet ended up in positions farther apart than strangers—at opposite poles.
“Harin? When’s your field trip?”
But I wasn’t giving up here. I spoke up somehow to open the floodgates of conversation.
“I think it’s in the fall.”
“Yeah? Nowhere in spring?”
“School trip?”
“Where do school trips go these days? Still Jeju Island?”
“I don’t really know about this school.”
“Yeah? Where did your old school usually go?”
“Museums or ecological parks. Or folk villages, stuff like that.”
“Why don’t they take you somewhere fun like an amusement park? So rigid front and back. When was the last time you went to an amusement park?”
“Elementary school?”
That was it. Harin, like Eunju, had terrible travel luck and it had been ages since she’d been to an amusement park.
The next destination was decided with ease. And even better news: after all that effort, Harin’s words were flowing again.
“Thank you…”
“That again? I’m your guardian and I can’t even do the basics properly—what’s there to thank?”
“Just everything. Buying me pork cutlet yesterday, buying me clothes, and helping with the election prep…”
“Aren’t you being a little too hard on people? I’m your caregiver—basic food, clothing, and shelter are the bare minimum, right? And election prep, that was… wait!? What did I help with?”
But. One. Thing. Among what Harin said was something I simply could not accept. When had I ever helped with her election prep?
“Last time… when I said I’d help with the election, you stayed up all night writing the pledges for me, right? I don’t think I ever thanked you for that.”
“Th-that’s what you mean? It was nothing, don’t worry about it. Well then, shall we sleep soon? School tomorrow and it’s pretty late, isn’t it? Yaaawn…”
“…?”
Harin tilted her head, finding my sudden rush to end the conversation strange. But she seemed to have said everything she wanted; she looked satisfied enough and went back to her room.
But I wasn’t. I spun my fish-brained low-quality head as hard as I could and rewound a few days.
That night I’d stayed up writing pledges and fallen asleep. In the morning toast and milk that Harin had prepared were waiting.
Back then I thought she’d made breakfast for her dad who worked late. But what if that wasn’t it?
What if Harin had checked the entire contents of the laptop, and prepared breakfast because she was grateful I’d written the election pledges for her?
Then I was completely fucked. Those pledges were for Eunju, not Thuy.
And if Harin had handed that content straight to Thuy, their pledges would end up overlapping again, wouldn’t they?
No good. I had to go back to school tomorrow.
No—I absolutely had to go.