A World Still Worth Living In (1)
I had been in an orphanage from the moment I was born.
Or, to be precise, I didn’t actually know when it started. All I remembered was bouncing from one orphanage to another for as long as my memory reached back.
It was possible I had been somewhere else before the age of three—when most people lose their earliest memories—but there was no way for me to find out now.
After a massive fire completely consumed the first orphanage that had taken me in, every record about me except for the three letters of my name, Lee Hyunwoo, had vanished.
Thanks to an anonymous tip, the evacuation and rescue had gone quickly enough that no one was seriously injured or killed.
Still, the memory of that day was burned so deeply into me that it still appeared in my dreams sometimes when I slept at night. The firefighter who saved me had told me I’d been unconscious right in the middle of the blaze and that it had been a very close call.
Once the orphanage I had come to think of as home burned down, the children left with nowhere to go were scattered across nearby facilities.
Naturally, I was one of them.
I must have heard the words “You’re lucky to be alive” and “This is a miracle” dozens of times during that process. I agreed with them, so from that day on I lived every single day giving thanks for that miracle.
Escaping that terrible orphanage really had been a miracle, after all.
“Love yourself, and love others.”
The shame and pain I learned from the person who taught us those words had left scars on the hearts of every child there—scars that would never fade.
At first, one of the older kids insisted we should tell someone what had been done to us, but an even older child stopped him.
I still remembered clearly what the oldest boy—the one who had suffered the most—had said.
The expression on the face of the oldest boy—the one who had suffered the most—left us all speechless.
As more time passed, we came to understand what he meant. Maybe because he had always been a model student with a good image, he was the one who got adopted and left for another home.
When he was discharged, he never looked back.
It would be a lie to say I wasn’t sad that the person who had been our center was gone. But partings weren’t exactly new to us, so we—I—simply kept living quietly. Because it seemed like that was how things worked out well, just like they had for the brother who had gone ahead of us.
The second orphanage had part of its building destroyed by a lightning strike of unknown origin and was undergoing reconstruction. During that time the director was reported by someone else, and once again I lost my home. When I was sent to the third orphanage, I stayed silent as if nothing had happened.
Looking back on the past now, I sometimes thought the real problem might have been me. My life really had been noisy.
Even during my school years, when the fact that I was an orphan had already spread as a rumor, things never flowed as quietly as I wanted.
‘Though most of that was because of the friend who was always by my side.’
The past was the past. It was already over. What mattered now wasn’t reminiscing about old times but organizing the things in my room.
Because it was finally time for me to leave this orphanage.
Seongmo Jaeae Dream Hill.
My third home.
It didn’t feel like that much time had passed since I arrived, yet here I was, already at the age to be discharged. The feeling was strangely new.
I was carefully packing my few belongings into a box when—
Knock, knock—
“Hyunwoo, are you in there?”
A gentle voice came from beyond the door along with the knock. It was the director of the orphanage—the nun in charge. I quickly stood up and opened the door.
“Ah, Mother Maria. What brings you here?”
“What brings me? I came to see if our Hyunwoo is getting ready to head out into the world properly.”
Mother Maria still looked a little hurt that I called her “Mother Maria.” To me, she was like a mother—no, she was my mother in every way that mattered.
Because she had embraced me with love and kept me from going astray, I never lost my way even during the stormy years of adolescence. Knowing that she treated me with genuine care, I had tried my best too.
She looked around the room, now stripped of all personal items, and smiled bitterly.
“I wanted to help, but you’ve already packed everything.”
“Come on, how could I ask you to do that? I know how busy you are, and honestly there wasn’t much to pack anyway.”
“Are you really sure you don’t want to stay longer? It feels like you’re rushing out, and to be honest, I’m worried.”
In the past, the moment you turned eighteen you had to leave the orphanage with only a small subsidy, no exceptions. But the law had recently been revised, allowing residents to stay until twenty-four if they wished.
Part of me wanted to stay here with Mother Maria, but I knew I couldn’t.
“I have to clear out quickly. You know how many kids are waiting for this room.”
I let out a small chuckle. The second-floor self-reliance wing was given out by age, and unlike the shared dorms, this was a single room—so yes, plenty of kids had their eyes on it.
There were only so many rooms, so unless someone left, no spots opened up. That was true too.
Thanks to an anonymous sponsor, I had managed to cover my university tuition and even found a small studio apartment nearby.
For some reason, although many people had expressed interest in adopting me, I had never actually been adopted. Still, for an orphan, I had been quite lucky. For someone like me to stay here simply because of my own selfishness would be too cruel to the other children.
The sooner I left, the sooner another child could use this room.
Mother Maria looked into my eyes for a moment. The bitterness on her face faded, replaced by pride.
“Yes… you’ve always been that kind of child, Hyunwoo. You’ll do well out there too. Do you remember what I’ve told you many times?”
“That the world isn’t beautiful?”
“That’s right. Keep remembering it. Anyone who approaches you too eagerly offering help should be viewed with caution at first. More than anything, believe in yourself. You’re a far more remarkable child than you think.”
“Is it okay for someone who believes in the Lord to say things like that?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? I believe in the goodness of people, but I also know there are unavoidable dark sides. I know that giving you comforting words instead of realistic ones wouldn’t help you. In the end, this is a world where people live, after all.”
Mother Maria covered my hand with her wrinkled one. The marks life had left on her were clearly visible.
Through the half-open window came the sound of children singing hymns. The familiar melody praising the beauty and love of the world filled the room.
In the middle of that, Mother Maria smiled kindly and spoke.
“And the Lord won’t hate me just because I said something like this. He’ll probably love me even more for guiding His little lamb well.”
“...You should probably guide that person causing a ruckus at the front gate these days too. I hear they keep coming back?”
“That person will taste the police’s authority, not the Lord’s rod. So don’t worry.”
I silently looked at Mother Maria’s hand resting on mine. It was a hand that carried truly warm warmth.
Young children growing up in orphanages first call the staff and nuns “Mom” and follow them around. But that lasts only a short while. Once they grow up and realize their position, they stop calling them Mom.
Because just when affection starts to form, the assigned staff changes, and they eventually realize these people are not family but strangers.
Love yourself, and love others.
I had come to understand the true meaning of those words not from the first orphanage, but from the Mother Maria standing before me.
“I’ll come visit often… Mom.”
I added the word shyly, a little late. Mother Maria’s eyes widened, then she smiled softly and answered.
“Yes, son.”
“Ahem, hm!”
I had said it in the heat of the moment, but the embarrassment was far worse than I imagined and I couldn’t stop the awkward cough. As if to rescue me, Mother Maria continued.
“If you’re done preparing, let’s go down together. The children are waiting downstairs. Zeta is keeping them entertained for now, but if we’re any later she might hold it against you. As you know, those kids are full of energy.”
“Zeta’s already here?”
Zeta Beatrix. At the mention that my fifteen-year childhood friend was waiting, I picked up the box and started heading downstairs with Mother Maria.
It was time to take my first step out into the world.