That Day Was the Same
"Brother. I want meat. Steak."
"Brother, I want tteokgalbi. Not the frozen kind — handmade ones, all golden-brown!"
"Noodles! Kalguksuuuuu!"
The triplets, identical as if they had been run off a photocopier, latched onto Na Wangrang's arms. He paid no mind to the little brothers dangling from him and went on writing out next week's meal plan.
"Monday breakfast is Vienna sausages. Lunch is the school meal, so skip that. Dinner is kimchi stew…"
"Meat! Kimchi stew means meat!"
"What are you talking about? Tuna! It's only good if you put tuna in it!"
"You people don't know flavor at all. Can't believe you don't know Spam is the truth."
The three little wolves yowled. Na Wangrang ignored them with the ease of long practice.
"Gangrang! Hwarang! Yurang! Stop pestering your brother and come fold the laundry! Once that's done, clean your room! Tomorrow's the weekend, but don't you dare sleep in!"
Yoo Kangseul rapped the triplets on the head with her ladle, one after another. Bumps rose under their hair. Tearful, they looked up at her.
"Tsk!"
Yoo Kangseul glared. Tails tucked, the triplets trudged off into their room.
"Honestly. They'll be in middle school any day now, and they're still babies. I don't know when they're ever going to grow up."
"They're growing just fine. Unlike me, they're shooting right up."
Na Wangrang gave the meal chart a brisk flick.
"Oh my. The food got a lot richer."
Yoo Kangseul blinked, quietly startled, at the A4 sheet packed edge to edge. Set beside last week's modest plan, it was another class of meal entirely.
"A fair bit of money came in. A little luxury like this ought to be all right."
"We'll eat our fill at home for the first time in ages. What's the occasion?"
She thumped his shoulder. With the tight money finally loosening, her face opened bright. The sight of his mother laughing so clearly lifted Na Wangrang's mood with it — until his eyes caught her hands, crowded with scars, and the smile that had been rising sank back down.
He closed his hands over hers.
"Mom."
"Hm?"
"Can't you quit the shop?"
"…Hm?"
The sudden question threw her. She stared at her son.
"What made you say a thing like that?"
She didn't get angry. She brought herself down to his eye level.
"The shop isn't hard on me. Nobody gives me trouble, and the landlord is a good man. Raising the four of you isn't any problem at all."
Na Wangrang bit his lip, lightly. Saying it wasn't hard was too obvious a lie.
The place Yoo Kangseul ran was a small snack shop — no franchise, just a woman in business for herself. Word of mouth kept trade brisk, but brisk was not the same as comfortable. She had no part-timer. Every morning she was up early to ready the shop, and she came home late at night. The cleaning was hers. Sorting the ingredients was hers. All of it, she handled alone.
Pile four children on top of that, and there was no way her body could hold. If Na Wangrang had not grown up early, overwork would have dropped her long ago, and then some.
"I just wanted you comfortable sooner. You've been through so much for us."
"I haven't been through anything. Thanks to my babies, Mom wasn't tired at all."
Yoo Kangseul stroked his hair.
"Mom's better off than most. For a single-parent house, almost nobody has it as good as we do. I've got my own shop, and until your father left he worked hard to help, so aside from these last few years it wasn't even hard. There was a little scare over money, but we've had enough to eat and get by."
Na Wangrang listened in silence to the gentle, steady voice.
"It isn't so bad that we can't make it through the days, not the way you think. Don't worry. Worrying like that only hurts Mom's heart."
"Mom…"
Before a smile as bright as the sun, he lost whatever he had meant to say.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't need to be sorry. It's only because our Wangrang is kind, and a good son."
She caught his cheeks and tugged.
"You just do what you have to do. You don't need to fuss over Mom so much. All right?"
"Yes…"
"And if something's going on, you tell me right away."
She flicked him on the forehead.
"Ow."
"Smooth that brow. You'll get wrinkles."
"Yes…"
Na Wangrang rubbed at his reddened forehead. Yoo Kangseul pressed the ladle into his hand.
"What's this for…?"
"Mom's hungry. Make us a simple snack. Enough for those little ones over there, too."
The triplets who had been peeking through the crack of the door slammed it shut.
Na Wangrang let out a short laugh and tied on an apron.
"Just wait. It won't take long."
"Don't make too much."
"Yes."
Watching her son's back as he spun the ladle, Yoo Kangseul let her face go sad.
Just like his father. He really can't hide a thing.
That grave look, the way he worried alone where no one was meant to see — he was the spitting image.
That day was the same.
He had taken up every grief the world had to offer, and still he had forced a smile into his eyes and hidden what he truly felt.
Yoo Kangseul pressed down hard on the feeling surging up in her. Her eldest son's back overlapped with that man's.
You've done something you can't tell your mother.
She wanted to beg. What did you do? Why go looking for hardship? You're a high schooler — then study like one.
But she held it in.
She had no choice but to hold it in.
When she had seen that man off at the end, she had known, and she had not asked. It was the least respect she could give him, and it was the wretchedness of having to bargain with what was real.
Yoo Kangseul knew her own measure. She knew the world that man had lived in, and she knew the bind her child was in now. Because she understood that world, she did not force her way into it. Because she could see her child's trouble, she did not hurry him.
If the worry had lain across his future, his studies, the ordinary chain of cause and consequence, she would have stepped in without hesitation. But she understood, as a mother. This was not the moment to touch it. This was a time her child had to win through on his own.
Whatever you choose, Mom is always on your side.
Her son hummed as he cooked. Yoo Kangseul cheered him on in silence.
The next morning, Na Wangrang finished getting ready for work at Dan Chuyeon's mansion.
The moment he stepped out onto the street, he found Peril waiting in front of a car.
"Your Majesty, I am here to escort you."
"…Thank you."
Afraid someone might see, Na Wangrang scrambled in. A driver whose face he didn't know turned the engine over. A question mark popped into the air above his head.
"I am a vassal of the King."
The man offered a slight bow.
"Hello."
A nod. He seemed the quiet type.
Peril tapped the navigation screen.
"Are we bound for your friend's residence?"
"Yes. I have to go work."
"Understood."
The engine hummed.
"But, Your Majesty, may I ask how long you intend to continue this work?"
"Hard to say. There isn't a set term. I'll probably keep at it until Chuyeon's parents tell me to stop. Or until I quit."
"Is that so?"
Peril swallowed.
"Then, Your Majesty…"
"I'm not thinking of quitting. You want me to walk away after a few days?"
"But the clan is gathering to Your Majesty's side. Sooner or later the work must end. If by chance it is money you require…"
"Enough."
Cold sweat sprang down Peril's back. In the rearview mirror, Na Wangrang's gaze had gone cold.
"I know what you want to say. Going that far already seems premature. There'll be a proper time, won't there?"
"…You are right, Your Majesty."
"The Elder hasn't said anything?"
"No. For the present he is only rallying the clan. There has been no particular word."
"Then we're fine."
Na Wangrang propped his chin on his hand and turned his eyes to the window.
"If anything looks suspicious, or even the smallest problem comes up, report it at once. I don't want to be hit while I'm still in the dark."
"I will keep it in mind."
Once the King's anger ebbed, Peril pressed a hand to his chest in relief. Then something happened that set that same chest hammering all over again.
"Your Majesty, may I offer a word?"
It was the driver who had spoken — not in Korean, but in the language of the werewolves.
"Your Majesty, I shall interpret—"
"It's all right. I can understand it."
Na Wangrang called up the werewolf tongue his father had taught him as a child.
"You don't speak Korean?"
"I can follow it to a degree, but I am still studying how to speak it."
"Wasn't your post here?"
"It was Japan. I lived there for more than twenty years."
"Japan? Then how did you end up in Korea…"
Na Wangrang was baffled. From what he had heard, word of him should not have reached the outside yet.
"There was a collaborator who knew the King's identity. He is the one who told me of you."
"A collaborator?"
The word sat wrong. Not another werewolf, then?
Someone knew me besides the trio?
And in Japan?
A chill prickled over him.
"Who is this collaborator?"
"You will meet him soon."
Who could it be, this mysterious collaborator? And what was this driver, exactly? The unease sat badly with Na Wangrang, but he did not press any further.
"But I still haven't heard it. Wasn't there something you wanted to say?"
"Yes."
The driver tightened his grip on the wheel.
"Your Majesty, I do not know whether you have heard, but there is a faction of malcontents who refuse to follow the King."
He knew. Elder Wildflower had told him.
"And what of them?"
"Elder Wildflower says—"
He had not expected that.
Five days. That fast?
Then keeping a lid on the information is pointless.
He had meant to smooth himself out a little more first…
"You will need to set the people around you in order."
"…Hah."
His head throbbed. The day was already far too long.
The car came to a stop. They had arrived at work.
"I will escort you this evening."
Peril, sweating freely, saw him off. Na Wangrang went into the house without looking back.
Dan Chuyeon, who was always there to greet him, was nowhere in sight today. A racket spilled out of the living room. Thinking a guest must have come, Na Wangrang smothered his presence and craned his head for a look.
And there—
"Good day, Mr. Na Wangrang."
A strange figure in a mask stood waiting, a wolf's head yanked down over their own.
???
Na Wangrang's last scrap of composure fled the scene.