Blossoms, Goals, and a Mother's Go-Stop Mastery
When have I ever not worked hard?! Our family had come to Gangwon-do to see the flowers. But honestly, what did flowers matter to us? Even Mom and Min-ji couldn't care less about them. We'd long since shed any sentimentality back in the IMF crisis days. If I had to sum up our family's take on the flower-viewing trip... the air was nice enough for a walk.
Unlike us, Yu-bin and her mom were loving it. Thanks to them, we ended up taking a ton of photos. There were plenty of scenic spots perfect for it. Yu-bin's dad snapped away with his professional camera, and I helped out by learning how to use it from him.
As we wandered, snapping pics along the way, Min-ji suddenly yanked my hand. She'd spotted a donkey in the distance. Once her eyes locked on, nothing else existed—not Mom, not Dad. That personality was straight from Mom; she was a real animal lover too.
Min-ji stared at the little beast with sparkling eyes.
"Donkey!"
"Whoa, you can tell it apart from a horse already?"
Min-ji was sharp as a tack. She'd only ever seen donkeys in books, but she nailed it right away.
I bought some feed from a nearby vendor and handed it to her. When the donkey's breath tickled her hand, she let out a shriek.
"Eeeeek~! It tickles!"
Min-ji petted its nostrils. Was it Dad's genes? She touched it without a hint of fear. Even Yu-bin wouldn't dare feed it a radish, scared it might bite.
We kept strolling the path, and soon I noticed our families pulling ahead. It was obvious—the two households had conspired to shove me and Yu-bin together.
What did they expect from a 10-year-old like me...?
Now it was just the two of us. Yu-bin bragged that she'd be on TV every Monday and Tuesday.
I'd already searched her up on my smartphone, so I had a rough idea. This was when her acting and looks started getting attention. She began landing ad gigs and winning hearts.
"Gotta catch the live broadcast, huh?"
"Live broadcast?"
"Yeah, means watching the drama right when it airs~"
"Oh! Then you have to catch all my episodes live. Got it!?"
Her excited face was too cute to resist, so I nodded. I'd even watched that fluffy Perrie cartoon for her—what wouldn't I do? If time was short, I could always preview it on my phone.
We enjoyed the walk, then grabbed galbi for dinner. The next day, the K1 League's final match of the season kicked off. Both families headed to the stadium to cheer for Dad.
The stands were packed with fans roaring their support. Plenty shouted Dad's name—Kim Hyun-seok! Mom's eyes welled up at the sight. Every game, without fail, her eyes would redden.
I watched with Min-ji and Yu-bin, munching chicken. Mom had rushed right up to the front, screaming her lungs out.
"Run, Kim Hyun-seok!!!"
She was yelling in a frenzy, even shrieking—it was clear she was having the time of her life.
I tore into my chicken, eyes on the pitch. Dad, trained my way, moved like a different man. His strengths had always been stamina and those monstrous legs for physical battles, plus mid-range shots like cannon fire. Add confidence to his finishing, and he overwhelmed most Korean players.
But beyond that? Nothing special. Now, with added bounce, his dribbling and movement shone. Even his spatial awareness, honed in morning soccer, kept pace. Not a one-man show, but he'd skyrocketed the team's win rate.
Dad took a clean pass, then charged with his signature explosive power. He received the ball again. His trademark follow-up: slammed home like a missile.
Thwack!
"Eeeeeek!!! Kim Hyun-seok~!"
"Wooooaaah!!!"
Sweat-drenched, Dad threw his arms skyward with a grin like he'd conquered the world. That ambitious smile burned into the crowd's memory.
He pointed both hands at Mom, then bellowed loud enough for us to hear.
"Seon-hwaaaa!!!"
Pure Dad ceremony. He re-signed on the spot, snagged MVP, and his story spread among Seoul EFC fans. The IMF collapse, raising two kids in a tiny room, the day he nearly quit his dream—it all captivated not just fans, but everyone.
A compelling tale makes a star... I watched from afar as Dad gave a pure interview about how soccer was just plain fun.
No training till January, so plenty of free time till the March season start. Basically unemployed. But skipping practice? Not my dad. He whipped himself with near-obsessive drive.
During break, he ordered a computer. Mom didn't bat an eye at the cost—lag from the old one was the excuse.
Mom, lounging on my bed watching TV, poked at me while I studied English.
Which mom in the world interrupts her son studying?
I paused my phone's English convo audio.
"Son~ Mom's bored."
"Go hang with friends."
"Don't have any?"
True enough... Did Mom's "friends" even see her that way? Objectively, enemies or objects of hate.
She smiled through the chat, but couldn't hide the loneliness behind it. Why did she hurt over having no one...?
"Go on a date with Dad then."
"Your dad's off meeting his morning soccer buddies."
Heartless. Leaving his friendless, total-loser wife behind.
"Go-Stop?"
"You know how?"
I smirked and fetched the piggy bank, plunking it down boldly.
"Wanna bet allowance?"
"Ho ho. Guess this is my chance to cure my son of his gambling habit...?"
I'd never seen Mom play Go-Stop. She smiled faintly.
She was shocked by my skill... but then I drew a trash 192-point shit hand and paused.
No mistakes on my end. Too late, I realized: from the start, she'd eaten light instead of double dung, drying up my cards. I'd misunderstood her grabbing that empty trash hand.
Had she mapped every possible flight from her opening draw...?
Still, plenty didn't add up. Her snagging lights in one second flat replayed in my mind.
"My boy's overthinking now? Cough up nine thousand nine hundred won."
"....."
Her heart raced at gambling, yet she jumped in without hesitation when I suggested it. Like I never planned to lose at schoolyard games...
Something felt off. Like I'd been hooked.
I glared as she shuffled. No cheating, seemed legit... After a few rounds, I called first.
From the jump, she flashed three bonus cards. I'd shuffled—no excuses.
"....."
"Shake on bonus is quadruple, right?"
Yeah, I'd said that upfront.
She laid bonuses one by one, padding her hand. I relaxed—no matches. Then she showed double South Gate (rain double pi) and rain light.
Thud... Felt like a fist to the solar plexus.
Trembling, I eyed the rain empties on the floor. She openly bombed, stealing my double pi. Eightfold from turn one... Fucked.
Expressionless eyes flipped trash: one pi and ribbon bird. Single pi bullshit, single 140 pi... Her gaze pierced like daggers.
"...Ch-cheater!"
"Want me to flip the table?"
"....."
"Fine, come give me a big smooch instead~"
I had pride. Pig might fall, but not kneel for a hundred won kiss.
I ate maple, flipped. Dung out—her eyes sharpened. Next turn, she scooped two pi and buried eight-light with ribbon bird, yelling go!
"Son, that flimsy pride'll get your pig stripped bare?"
"....."
Silent, I tossed a card. Back pile untouched, yet she dumped three more dung. Impossible. Three matches in ten cards? She'd unfolded pure shit...
No words, since I shuffled. Then her flip: double chrysanthemum pi.
"Bonus shake, double bomb. Sixteenfold. Too high."
Mocking tone... That wrinkle-free glow, like grown-up Min-ji, terrified me.
Pi wipeout mindset—I dropped chrysanthemum.
"Urk... Son's got balls?"
"....."
Flip: chrysanthemum. She ignored my shaky hand, ate pine light straight.
"Thirty-twofold. Three high."
"....."
"Lights wipe and pi wipe now. 128 total, got it?"
She dropped my chrysanthemum pi onto empties.
"Empty wipe adds 256—four high. 512 total."
"N-no way."
"Crawl into my arms, kiss till lipstick marks your cheek, and maybe I call it even?"
512fold, now extra terms... Bullshit. Lose money, sure—but no balls-shriveling humiliation.
But my hand was stacked. Minimum six high... Floor junk plus red ribbon: nine lights, up to five high.
Red ribbon's just three points, but at 512? 153,600 won gone. Five lights? Eleven more points minus four-light four: 563,200.
I eyed my three lights (sakura) and nine ribbon. My lead...
Four lights, eat my three for red ribbon five-light, call six high, drop nine ribbon... Half a year's old dump-truck pay, one shot.
Per-point game...
"B-bit the bullet..."
"Bullet? What's that?"
Her voice snapped me back.
"Son? Thoughts? Even now, that's two pigs owed."
"....."
That confident gaze looking down. No fluster at this score. Like it was expected.
From that flawless face. Like it mocked, What can a punk like you do here?
She toyed with red lips, beaming. Slowly spread arms, beckoning.
I shut my eyes, dropped my cards. The young mother's embrace was truly warm.