Kindergartener Seoha
The next morning.
The moment she opened her eyes, yesterday came flooding back.
Did Grandfather figure it out?
Seoha blinked up at the ceiling.
He might have called someone from the Strategy Planning Office to ask. He might have dropped a few words to his chief secretary.
Or maybe he'd simply decided his six-year-old granddaughter was parroting something she'd overheard somewhere, and let it slide.
That was the most likely scenario, but...
There was no way for Seoha to know which it was.
Not that she could exactly call her grandfather first thing in the morning to check.
Hey, did you get around to reviewing that semiconductor equipment investment I mentioned?
Just imagining it was horrifying.
"Seoha, you up?"
The door opened.
Yoon Hyejin peeked her head into the room.
"You have kindergarten today."
"......Yes, Mom."
Even if she knew Haewon Group might be shaken to its core in a few years, kindergarten was kindergarten.
Even if the world ends tomorrow, I will plant an apple tree today — that... who was that again? Whatever. Like that guy.
Seoha pushed back the covers and climbed down from the bed.
Small feet touched the floor.
Well, this was what a five-year-old's day looked like, after all.
A small commotion was unfolding at the breakfast table.
"Mom. Seoyun took mine again."
Sungwoo said.
In the hand of three-year-old Seoyun was a single strawberry.
A strawberry that had been sitting on Sungwoo's plate.
"Seoyun. That's not okay."
Hyejin held out her hand.
"That's your brother's."
Seoyun stared at Hyejin for a moment.
Then she popped the strawberry into her mouth.
Munch munch.
Her face said nothing had happened at all.
"She's doing it on purpose, right?"
Sungwoo wore an expression of pure disbelief.
Seoha snorted into her milk.
Not that their mental ages seem all that far apart.
At that very moment.
Her eyes met Seoyun's.
Seoyun's gaze slid stealthily downward.
To Seoha's plate.
And the strawberries still sitting on it.
Oh no you don't.
Seoyun's hand moved.
"No."
Seoha pulled her plate away first.
"That's mine."
"Unnie."
"No."
"Strawberwy—"
"You already had yours."
Technically, she'd had them until a moment ago.
Seoyun had simply eaten every last one.
Seoyun reached out again, pretending not to hear.
Seoha dodged her hand and moved the plate to the far side.
Seoyun's whole body followed.
"Unnie."
"No."
"Just one."
"No."
"Juuust one..."
Seoha narrowed her eyes.
"Jang Seoyun."
She was only three, but as the baby of the family, Seoyun had grown up with every single relative fussing over her and letting her have her way.
This is the kind of thing you nip in the bud from babyhood.
Though she had zero parenting experience of her own, as a devoted former viewer of that child-rearing intervention show, Seoha spoke firmly.
"...Fine. One. Just one."
"Yes!"
Seeing Seoyun's face crumple into a pout had weakened her resolve against her will, and she'd had no choice but to hand one over.
Seoyun beamed as she accepted the strawberry.
Hyejin watched the whole scene and smiled.
"Our Seoha takes such good care of her little sister."
Seoha didn't answer, just put the last strawberry in her mouth.
It was hardly a peaceful morning, but still.
Not a bad one.
"Seoha's here!"
The moment she arrived at kindergarten, one of her classmates came running up clutching a piece of paper.
"Jang Seoha, look at this!"
A house drawn in colored pencils.
A square house with a triangle roof.
And beside it, four people holding hands.
"This is my house."
"Nice."
"This is Daddy, this is Mommy. And this is me."
The child pointed at each figure in turn.
"Then who's this?"
Seoha pointed at the person at the very end.
A figure noticeably smaller than the rest.
"That's my little brother."
"He's small."
"He's still a baby."
The child answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Clap clap.
The teacher clapped her hands just then.
"Alright, let's have Seoha draw a picture too. Today we're going to draw our families."
At the teacher's words, the children all trooped back to their seats.
Seoha sat down obediently at hers.
A single sheet of drawing paper was placed in front of her.
Family, huh...
After a moment's deliberation, she decided to draw only the family she actually lived with.
Seoha picked up a skin-toned crayon.
Her current fingers were short, and her pressure control was clumsy.
The lines didn't come out as straight as she'd pictured them, either.
Still, thanks to a naturally decent hand, the family took shape convincingly enough.
She drew Daddy the largest of the five.
She gave Mommy long hair, and drew Jang Sungwoo a little bigger than herself.
Seoyun she drew the smallest — but she put real effort into making her look cute.
Seoha's hand stopped as she looked down at the finished picture.
The page was full.
And Seoha found that she rather liked that.
"Seoha's it!"
"Why me again?"
"'Cause you got tagged last!"
When outdoor playtime came, the children scattered to every corner of the playground.
Seoha surveyed her surroundings slowly.
Being it in tag didn't mean you had to run around mindlessly.
Children's movements followed patterns of their own.
Let me show you how adults play tag, you little whippersnappers.
Pwah— A grin spread across her face without her meaning it, her competitive spirit catching fire.
There was no reason to keep chasing the fastest kid.
Cut off their escape route first, and that was that. The essence of tag wasn't running — it was the catching.
This was the judgment of an adult.
Her mind made up, Seoha circled around to the far side of the jungle gym.
And then.
"Gotcha."
"Huh?"
One down.
The next kid had hidden behind the slide.
Seoha didn't chase them straight on.
She looped around the other way and blocked the exit.
"Gotcha."
"Eeeh?"
Two down.
Seoha gave a small nod.
Not bad.
The problem was what came after.
"Hah... hah..."
She was out of breath.
The abysmal stamina of a child this young...
Grown-ups assume kids have boundless energy, but in reality they're more like batteries — quick to charge, tiny in capacity.
Seoha was feeling that truth down to her bones.
One of the kids dashed across her path.
"Seoha! Come over here!"
Seoha gritted her teeth and ran again.
Ten steps.
Twenty steps.
Just a little more.
And then, finally.
Thump.
She plopped down beside the slide.
...Do I need to start working out?
Seoha looked down at her own hands.
Small hands.
Chubby fingers.
Short arms.
Ah.
Jang Seoha: the textbook specimen of a perfectly (physically) average child.
There was apparently no keeping up with today's fast-developing youngsters.
"Seoha."
A classmate came over.
"Tired?"
"A little."
"Then let's rest and play after."
The child sat down beside her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Before long, another kid wandered over.
"I wanna rest too."
Then one more.
"Me too, me too!"
And so tag simply... ended.
Nobody cared who had won, or who had managed not to get caught until the last.
Heh. The innocence of childhood...
She'd let slip a wonderfully middle-school-syndrome-worthy thought...
...and never noticed the teacher, who'd been watching to make sure no one got hurt, capturing the sight of Seoha grinning oddly to herself somewhere in chunibyo-land on her camera film.
After lunch came naptime.
Seoha did not like naps.
Or rather, she considered them a waste of time.
When there was only so much of each day to spend, how could she justify surrendering nearly two hours of it to sleep?
That was what she'd genuinely believed when she first started kindergarten.
After all, Seoha was now well past pretending to be a mere infant — she was a dignified six-year-old, Jang Seoha, Esquire, a full five years of age in Korean reckoning.
Surely a nap was something she could control at will. Or so she'd thought.
No napping today.
Seoha lay down under her blanket.
Around her, the children were closing their eyes one by one — true to their age, dropping straight into sleep the moment their heads hit the mat.
The teacher drew the curtains and dimmed the lights.
Perfect.
All she had to do was make use of this time.
Let's review what I told Grandfather yesterday.
Semiconductors... if supply increases... then prices...
Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
Seoha forced her eyes wide open.
Not yet.
Her eyes closed for a second, then snapped back open.
Just a little longer...
And then.
"Seoha."
Someone was shaking her shoulder.
"Time to wake up."
Seoha opened her eyes.
The teacher was looking down at her.
Around them, the other children were already folding up their blankets.
"......"
The angle of the sunlight coming through the window had changed, too.
Seoha sat up in a daze.
...I slept.
And deeply, at that.
There was even a bit of drool at the corner of her mouth.
Seoha wiped it away with the back of her hand.
Mm. Well, growing children do need their sleep.
"Is it good?"
"Yes."
After pickup, she had a snack with Mom.
Today it was apple slices and a little castella cake.
Hyejin was flipping through an exhibition catalog at one end of the table — the hobby of a mother who'd majored in fine art.
Seoha sat politely across from her, drinking her milk.
Hyejin turned a few more pages, then asked.
"What did you do at kindergarten today?"
"We drew pictures."
"What kind of picture?"
"Our family."
Hyejin looked up from the catalog.
"Did you draw Mommy too?"
"Yes."
"Prettily?"
Seoha considered for a moment.
"About average."
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"
Hyejin laughed.
Seoha took a bite of her castella.
An unremarkable afternoon.
Sitting across from Mom over a snack.
Telling her about kindergarten.
Showing her the picture and talking about it.
Then.
A small hand rose up from under the table.
"......"
Seoha turned her head.
It was Seoyun.
Seoyun's gaze was locked precisely on the castella.
"No."
"Unnie—"
"You already ate yours."
"A wittle?"
"You ate it all."
"A wittle!"
Seoyun held up two fingers.
"A wittle."
"Did you just learn the word 'little' today? And that's two pieces, not a little."
"A wittle."
Seoha studied her for a moment.
She clearly understands every word we say, and yet...
Seoyun wasn't greedy by nature, but she had a strange fixation on whatever Seoha or Jang Sungwoo happened to be eating.
She rarely touched Mommy's or Daddy's food.
Is she craving attention?
Analyzing as a devoted former viewer of that child-rearing intervention show, it seemed Seoyun was probably jealous of the attention Mom and Dad paid to her older siblings.
Forming healthy affection bonds in early childhood is crucial. I should talk to Mom about it later.
And while Seoha was deliberating so gravely...
Swoosh— a piece of castella vanished, cradled away in Seoyun's tiny hand.
"Hey! Jang Seoyun!"
...Or maybe she's just plain greedy after all.