Chapter 110: Even the Absolute Being Is a First-Time Dad
Absolute One Is Also New to Fatherhood Episode 110
"Before we could even name her, Hana's mother left our side."
Perhaps it was because their stories felt vaguely similar.
Kang-jun began listening even more attentively to Hana's father.
"She's the only family I have left in this world, so I named her 'Hana' (One)."
He continued speaking in a measured tone, struggling to maintain composure.
"She was diagnosed with childhood leukemia before she could even take her first steps. I quit my job to focus on saving her."
His gaze drifted to where Hana was playing happily in the distance.
"Not only did we exhaust all our savings for her treatment, but we even lost our home to foreclosure."
"I see."
"The medical bills piled up into mountains of debt, but I didn't care as long as she recovered completely."
He looked at Kang-jun.
"You understand better than anyone that nothing in this world matters more than your child."
Kang-jun nodded.
Nothing in this universe...
Could ever come before his own child.
"Mr. Seol's father."
He asked:
"What do you think is the minimum requirement for survival when stranded on a deserted island?"
Kang-jun could only think of basics like 'drinking water' or 'food,' but...
"The existence of other islands."
The man continued calmly.
"You need the hope of escaping this place—that hope becomes the driving force to keep moving."
Kang-jun murmured:
"Hope..."
Hana's father nodded.
"Yes, I used to have that 'hope.'"
He'd foolishly believed money could always be earned again.
That mountains of debt could eventually be repaid...
That any shelter from the storm would suffice.
"As long as my child miraculously regained her health, I believed happiness would return if I just worked harder."
After a pause, he added with emphasis:
"At least... until I heard the doctor's diagnosis of terminal pancreatic cancer."
His eyes grew moist.
"That bastard had prepared in advance."
His voice trembled.
"They said I had no money left for treatment, no strength left to fight, and not even a sliver of hope."
His bony, wrinkled hand wiped away tears with practiced motions—how many tears had these hands wiped before?
"So now I work at construction sites every day, trying to leave Hana even a single penny more before my flame goes out, but..."
His voice shook.
"I resent God."
Kang-jun flinched at his words.
"They say God only gives us trials we can endure, but truthfully, I stopped being able to endure each passing day long ago."
His shoulders trembled slightly.
"Perhaps this life of mine..."
Hana's father forced a smile.
"...was meant to be punishment."
That evening.
The small room vibrated with the savory aroma of grilled fish—mackerel braised in soy sauce bought cheaply on the way home.
"Hana, time for dinner."
The forty-year-old man.
Ban Byeong-hun.
Abandoned by his parents.
"If you're a good boy, Mommy will come back for you someday."
His mother left him behind because she fell in love with someone else.
He was eight.
The precocious child told himself he understood—his mother had her own life to live.
He kept growing.
Then came his tenth birthday.
His perpetually drunk, lethargic father surprisingly suggested going out.
After a rare meal out and new clothes from head to toe:
"Now that we've eaten well and dressed nicely, let's visit people you've missed."
His father drove nonstop down the highway until dawn...
Peering at the night sea through the window, the boy naively wondered if they were going to see his mother.
After turning onto a coastal road near Donghae, his father stopped the car and took something out.
A road flare.
Lighting it, his father said:
"Take a deep breath and sleep."
Then he flung open the door and ran down the dark coastal road.
The boy was terrified his father might chase after him.
And equally terrified he might not.
Cast adrift in the world.
He repeated this vow endlessly:
I never wanted to be their family anyway.
I'll choose my own family and live happily.
No matter what, I'll never abandon my child.
And so...
In a world where everyone desperately sought to be special, he became special by dreaming of ordinariness.
Years piled up.
Before he knew it, his life felt ordinary enough.
A decent job, daily work stress.
Gossiping about bosses with coworkers...
Weekend outings or baseball games.
The life he'd wanted.
Looking back, he stood at the center of his dreamed-of life.
Sometimes gray childhood memories surfaced:
Was that corpse his father?
The doubt was brief.
He...
Had today to live.
Living diligently each day, he met someone, married.
Family.
With this family he created, he vowed to redefine that word.
"The mother has passed away."
His wife left when their child came.
She'd bought baby supplies.
Left without using them.
"It's okay, it's okay..."
Daddy will always be here.
I'll never leave.
So don't cry.
"Waaaaah!"
He lied to the tiny bundle.
Not knowing this would happen.
Not knowing he'd have to leave too.
"Childhood leukemia."
His child grew terribly ill.
He begged her to live.
Demanded she fight.
"We'll live happily together..."
Promised future happiness.
An impossible promise.
"Hana, you're all better now..."
"Really?"
"Let's go home, be happy..."
Said only happiness remained.
Lied to her again.
Regretted cheering her to fight illness.
"Terminal pancreatic cancer."
Resented himself for demanding she fight what he couldn't.
"Daddy, eat mackerew."
Hana placed thick white mackerel flesh on his spoon.
"Hana eat, Daddy no eat."
"I'm eating..."
"No picky eat!"
Chewing the fish like gravel, he couldn't control his grimace.
"Daddy, just today okay? No picky next..."
Wiping tears, he said:
"Done eating? Play time?"
"No wanna..."
"We promised every day."
Hana poked listlessly at rice with her fork.
"Hana scared of game. Wanna fun game like Seol and Seol's daddy idol makeup..."
He shook his head.
"Still must play."
Had to prepare her for death.
"Otay..."
Pushing the table aside, Byeong-hun lay down and asked softly:
"Start?"
"Mm..."
"Start."
Hana shook him awake.
"Daddy, Daddy, you died?"
Biting his lip instead of answering.
"Press phone picture, one, one, nine, say Daddy died."
She fumbled anxiously.
"Then beep beep sound, uncles come, say Daddy died, teacher take me..."
The child never grew accustomed to this game.
"Then..."
She began sniffling.
"Get bankbook..."
Small hands opened the dresser drawer.
"Tell teacher password Hana birthday..."
Again.
Game over.
Hana burst into tears.
"Daddy, wake up now..."
Shaking him.
"Hana scared, no more..."
Byeong-hun sat up abruptly, hugging his daughter.
"Good job, good job..."
Hana sobbed uncontrollably.
"Daddy, no more game, Hana too scared, no more please..."
Byeong-hun said stiffly:
"We have to."
His voice trembled.
"Must keep practicing..."
In the silent depths of night.
Someone...
Was rehearsing death.
Preparing for sorrow.
"Must keep going..."
Such was this night.
Same time.
"Seol, bedtime."
Kang-jun lay beside Seol, gently patting her small back.
"Seol no sleepy..."
Despite her words, sleep thickened her voice.
"Stalling."
Smiling unconsciously, Kang-jun suddenly recalled their afternoon conversation:
'I resent God.'
He couldn't begin to fathom the depth of suffering in that man's life.
Watching helplessly as his child nearly died—what had that felt like?
Relieved at her recovery, only to learn his own life was ending?
"They say God only gives bearable trials, but I stopped being able to bear each day long ago."
The raw words from bloodless lips echoed relentlessly.
"Seol."
Kang-jun called her.
"Stay healthy and don't get sick."
"Mm, Daddy too no sick."
"I hope you outlive me."
During his near-immortal life, countless loved ones had left.
Though repetition should breed familiarity with such universal truths...
Goodbyes never grew easier.
This was why he'd ultimately immersed himself in "dark magic."
It pained him to watch loved ones age, sicken, and depart.
"Understand?"
Imagining his child leaving first made his heart pound violently.
Even the thought felt like a vise squeezing his chest.
"No like..."
Seol suddenly sniffled.
"Want Daddy live longer than Seol..."
"Why?"
"Seol can't live one day without Daddy..."
She burst into tears.
"Okay, okay."
Kang-jun soothed her.
"Daddy will outlive Seol."
"Pwomise?"
"By one day."
Watching his daughter wipe tears, he recalled Hana and her father.
Though knowing he couldn't save everyone, he kept wanting to help them.
Since returning to Earth, his heart had grown disturbingly soft—a discomfort he felt instinctively.
Such petty chivalry and justice only endangered survival, a truth he knew too well.
He sensed his own change.
Feared it...
But couldn't stand aside.
"Seol."
"Mm?"
"About Hana."
Seol stared intently.
"If Hana's sad, you'd be sad too?"
"Mm, best fwiends."
"Then you'd want Hana happy?"
"Mm, Seol like Hana happy."
Kang-jun nodded.
"Got it. Now sleep."
After much squirming, Seol finally slept.
"This isn't about justice..."
Kang-jun picked up his phone.
"Just for Seol..."
He dialed.
-"Great Immortal..."
Kazan's voice answered.
"Need to meet briefly."
The night was deep.