Chapter 148
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 148
The breaths that slipped from their joined lips tangled together.
Eun-ah’s eyes fluttered open as she felt his warm breath seep into her.
“Ah…”
The path her tears had traced across her cheek was now searing hot, as if it had been branded by fire.
Memories began to overlap in her mind. It wasn’t a sudden, overwhelming flood.
Instead, the pieces of her memory wove themselves together as if they were seeping into her, so naturally that she wondered how she could have ever forgotten.
The memory of her mother’s funeral surfaced.
She remembered the dark, empty eyes that had been fixed on her. The overlapping whispers, the frigid floor, the dizzying scent of incense.
Then, she remembered the ‘me’ who had wandered this house all alone. The ‘me’ who had cried, enveloped in a bone-deep chill.
The ‘me’ who read fairy tales appeared, followed by the ‘me’ who had yearned to be the princess in the story.
And finally, the ‘me’ whose heart had pounded upon at last meeting Honeybee.
She remembered a side of Honeybee she had never known. The Honeybee who had saved another ‘her,’ sometimes appearing like a child, other times like a magnificent knight, was now beginning to take his place in a corner of her memory.
With trembling eyes, Eun-ah looked up at Dokyun’s deeply furrowed brow.
“H-Honeybee…”
Dokyun flinched. The change in how she addressed him told him that it was Eun-ah who was calling his name.
“…Eun-ah.”
His voice was a frayed mess, on the verge of collapsing. In response, Eun-ah reached out, wrapped her arms around his head, and pulled him into her embrace.
She didn’t know what to say. She could only let out her sobs, her shoulders heaving.
She cried for the ‘me’—for Eun-ji—who had suffered in her place. She cried out of pity for that small piece of herself who had only just discovered happiness, and out of gratitude, and out of pride.
That was why she wept.
Dokyun’s arms wrapped around her waist. Eun-ah felt the front of her shirt growing damp. The cold air that had surrounded them retreated, pushed back by the warmth that passed between them.
After crying for a long time, her sobs finally subsiding to whimpers, she managed to speak in a trembling voice.
“Th-thank you…”
For not letting go of me.
“And… I-I’m sorry…”
For causing you so much pain.
“A-and…”
Her throat tightened, cutting off her words. She tried to say more, but the tears welling up to her chin dissolved the language she had so carefully formed into muffled sobs.
Weeping, Eun-ah hugged him even tighter.
Dokyun, his own heart seized by a constricting sorrow, sobbed silently before managing to form a single question.
“…I did a good job, right?”
In the end, he cried.
He had wanted to send her off with a smile. He had wanted to see her go with a happy face, but he was crying.
He had tried to let her go without any lingering attachments, without any regrets, but when the moment finally came, his mind was filled with nothing but his past self, who hadn't done enough for her.
A belated realization dawned on him.
The sorrow of parting wasn’t something you could endure just by preparing for it.
“Huu…”
A ragged breath escaped from between his trembling teeth.
His head rang, overwhelmed by the emotions shaking him to his core.
Eun-ah’s answer came only after they had both cried themselves into another complete mess.
“Yes…”
It was a small sound. A faint voice that was nearly carried away by the wind.
“You did so, so well. I… I was happy…”
Dokyun closed his eyes, feeling her hand gently stroking the back of his head.
“E-Eun-ji… ‘I’… was so happy being with you, Honeybee…”
After comforting the weeping Dokyun, Eun-ah gently pulled away. She met his gaze and, with every ounce of effort she could muster, summoned a bright smile.
“Because it was you, Honeybee. That’s why I was so happy.”
With those words, Eun-ah pressed her forehead against his.
The child inside her heart, the child who had cried from a piercing loneliness, was finally no longer alone.
* * *
A winding mountain road.
It was a deserted, remote mountain valley where they had seen only four or five other cars during the entire drive.
After driving for some time, Dokyun arrived at their destination.
Through the car window, he could see a vast memorial park that covered an entire mountain peak.
Graves and their headstones stood in neat, orderly rows.
This was where Eun-ah’s mother, Seo Han-gyeong, was buried.
“We’re here.”
“Y-yes…”
Dokyun turned his head to look at Eun-ah.
Her expression was tense, her mind clearly wrestling with complex emotions.
Seeing her like that, Dokyun felt a sharp pang in his heart.
They had come here today because of Eun-ah’s request.
Even after her delusion had shattered, Eun-ah had never mentioned her mother. It was only after she had fully processed all of Eun-ji’s memories that she said she wanted to visit her mother’s grave.
The request had left Dokyun conflicted, even though he wanted to respect her wishes.
In his mind, Seo Han-gyeong was someone he could not view favorably, no matter how hard he tried. She was the source of Eun-ah’s pain and sorrow.
The person who had made her split herself apart and hide within a delusion.
Wouldn’t seeing traces of such a person only hurt Eun-ah more? He had agonized over that thought.
—P-please…
But as she held his hand tightly and made her plea, Dokyun found he couldn’t refuse.
He took Eun-ah’s constantly fidgeting hand in his and held it firmly.
“Will you be okay?”
Eun-ah looked down at his hand covering hers, then took a deep breath and composed her expression before answering.
“Yes…!”
Her face was brimming with resolve.
At that, Dokyun forced a smile and opened the car door.
The place was peaceful, the warm sunlight and the silence of the mountain creating a tranquil atmosphere.
A step away from the clamor of the city, they walked hand-in-hand down a path that made one feel pleasantly drowsy. After about ten minutes, they arrived at the headstone.
Dokyun read the three characters carved into the stone—Seo Han-gyeong—and the smaller dates of birth and death beside them. Then he looked at the grave itself.
Though he had never met her, she was a person who held a great deal of meaning for him.
How could she not? The novel she had stolen from Eun-ah and released to the world was what had made him who he was today.
That novel was what had allowed him to meet Eun-ah.
To Dokyun, Seo Han-gyeong was his childhood idol.
His first loss from that era.
And, on top of that, the wound of the person he loved.
Looking at the neatly trimmed and maintained grave, Dokyun felt a strange emotion welling up inside him.
It was a complex feeling that couldn't be defined in a single word. As he felt it, he took a step back and bowed twice to the headstone.
It was the minimum courtesy for the dead.
After finishing his bows, Dokyun straightened up and watched Eun-ah, who was stroking the headstone with a wavering expression.
He didn’t open his mouth.
He simply stood by her side, giving her the space to compose her heart.
He understood with his head what Seo Han-gyeong meant to Eun-ah, but he knew he could never fully comprehend the emotions themselves.
No matter how much he empathized with her feelings, he could never understand the pain better than the one who had actually suffered it.
Eun-ah placed a bouquet of fresh flowers before the headstone and continued to stroke it for a long time.
Her lips finally parted as she stroked the stone, her expression contorting.
“I-I’m sorry…”
She wasn’t speaking to Dokyun.
She was speaking to the headstone, to Seo Han-gyeong.
“I-I tried to understand. I really did, because… because you’re my mother…”
Her voice grew thick with tears. A glimmer of moisture shone in her narrowed eyes.
“B-but I can’t forgive you…”
What poured out was resentment.
“I hate you so much… Mother.”
Her hand, which had been stroking the headstone, clenched into a tight fist.
I can’t forgive you for abandoning me, for ultimately leaving me so lonely.
“I… probably won’t come back… B-because you’re too painful for me. A-and I don’t want to be in pain anymore…”
Because for all the times I cried because of you, I want to smile now.
“S-so… just… for today, I’ll cry for you…”
With those words, tears streamed down her face.
I will think of you one last time, just for today. She wept as if to pour out all the sorrow she had accumulated over the years.
I won’t think of you anymore.
I will leave all this blackened longing here.
I will empty it all out and fill that space with other things.
The flowing tears, the sobs that escape without my knowing—they will all end today.
These are things to be left here, in your place.
Since that is what they are, I will not try to swallow them back.
And so, I will pour out all this surging sorrow right here.
Dokyun moved to Eun-ah’s side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
Pat. Pat. He gently patted her shoulder, offering his presence so she could cry her heart out.
He held her quietly, allowing her to finally shake off the lingering attachments she had never been able to let go of.
* * *
A long time had passed since the day Eun-ji had integrated and they had visited Seo Han-gyeong’s grave.
The world was preparing to welcome summer.
The world, once painted in vibrant colors, had shed its hues, and lush greenery began to fill its place.
The sun started to rise higher in the sky, and accordingly, the gentle warmth that had once thawed their bodies had now become a sweltering heat.
As that much time flowed by, there were, of course, changes that came with it.
The biggest change was that Seo Han-gyeong’s studio, which had remained a locked room for so long, was now empty.
All traces of her had been cleared out of the workspace.
The now-empty studio, after some debate on how to use it, was ultimately left as it was.
They had come to the conclusion that they would think about it again later.
As for Eun-ji, time proved to be the best medicine, and the sorrow of that day had now faded into a hazy memory.
The day of their final farewell, the memory of crying and crying, had now settled into a corner of her heart as a poignant recollection.
Now, when she thought of it, a smile came to her lips instead of tears.
It wasn't that the sadness was completely gone, but she could smile because Eun-ji hadn't completely disappeared.
She couldn't meet her like before.
But traces of Eun-ji clearly remained.
They were embedded in Eun-ah’s actions.
…Like right now, for instance.
“H-Honeybee… I’m thiiirsty…”
Dokyun looked at Eun-ah, who was sprawled out on the sofa asking for water.
She had been taking a break from writing her manuscript, her head resting on Dokyun’s lap with a drowsy expression on her face.
“Can you wait just a moment?”
“Mmm-hmm…”
When Dokyun placed a hand on her head, Eun-ah lifted her head with a sleepy look, following the motion of his hand.
As he headed to the kitchen to fill a glass with water, Dokyun let out a soft chuckle at the sight of Eun-ah draped over the sofa like a sloth.
He couldn't meet that stubborn little kid anymore, but he could still feel her traces, and moments like this always made him smile.
Dokyun returned to the sofa and offered the glass to Eun-ah.
“Here you go.”
“Ahhh~”
Eun-ah opened her mouth, remaining in the exact same reclined position.
A slightly troubled expression flickered across Dokyun’s face as he laughed.
“You’ll choke if you drink lying down. You have to sit up.”
“Nnngh…”
Eun-ah sat up with a groan and opened her mouth again.
Dokyun brought the glass to her lips, and she gulped it down before letting out a satisfied, “Khaaah.”
The atmosphere was peaceful.
Eun-ah was gradually getting used to her work at the department store and had more free time, and The Girl Who Catches Bugs was entering its final chapters.
All the hardships they had endured were finally bearing fruit.
Dokyun looked at Eun-ah, who had once again laid her head on his lap. He decided it was time to bring up something he had been unable to say, a decision he had made after a long period of deliberation.
“Eun-ah.”
“Yeees…”
“Do you think I can go back to work now?”
“Huh?”
“I’ve been wanting to go back to my job for a while now.”
Yes, back to work.
Eun-ah’s condition had improved beyond words.
She now had time to handle things on her own, which meant he had more free time as well. It was truly time for him to return to his job.
As he said this, Eun-ah, who had been blinking slowly, took a moment to process the meaning of his words before shooting up in surprise.
“W-what…?”
An expression of deep bewilderment was written all over her face.