The Aquarium and the Bankbook
It had been days since Seoyun fell head over heels for whales.
Whale picture books, to be exact.
Whales the moment she woke up in the morning. Whales at every meal. Whales again before bed.
Just yesterday, in the middle of her bath, she'd flung both arms wide inside the tub and insisted that she herself was a whale.
"Fwooooosh—"
Then this morning, the moment Seoyun sat down at the table, she puffed her cheeks out full and round.
"Whales spray water like this!"
"That's not water spraying out of their noses."
When Seoha corrected her without thinking, Seoyun's head whipped around.
"They DO spray."
"Whales are just breathing."
"Spray. Water."
"...Fine."
What was the point of arguing with a three-year-old? Seoha gave up and spread jam on her toast.
Dad, sitting across from them, rubbed his mouth with a hand as if trying to hold back a laugh, while Mom made no such effort and laughed outright.
"Seoha, why do you have to correct your little sister over every little thing?"
"She shouldn't learn it wrong."
"But Seoyun is only three."
...She has a point.
Still, guiding her younger sibling down the path of truth was a big sister's rightful duty. Give it a few more years, and Seoyun would surely come to appreciate the depth of Seoha's wisdom... or so Seoha believed.
Seoyun couldn't have cared less.
Grunting with effort, she hauled up the picture book she'd propped beside her chair and flipped it open. An entire page spread filled with a great blue whale.
"Daddy."
"Yes?"
"Whale."
"That's right, it's a whale."
Seoyun slapped the book shut. Then, like someone who had just arrived at a momentous decision, she declared:
"Wanna see a real whale."
Jang Youngmin set down his coffee cup.
"A real whale?"
"Yeah."
"Where?"
"The ocean. Whales live in the ocean."
There wasn't a flicker of hesitation in her answer. To a three-year-old, how big the ocean was, or which ocean whales actually lived in, was hardly the point.
Seoyun was already trying to climb down from her chair, apparently ready to depart on the spot. Mom caught her around the waist just in time.
"You have to eat breakfast first."
"Gotta go see the whale!"
"The whale will wait for you until you finish your breakfast."
Seoyun finally calmed down and settled back into her seat. Seoha jabbed at her eggs with her fork.
A real whale, huh.
She'd never given it much thought when it was just picture books, but hearing Seoyun say it out loud had made her a little curious herself.
...Have I been brainwashed?
Maybe spending this much time around Seoyun's whale talk was starting to rub off.
"Couldn't we see one at the aquarium?"
At Seoha's words, Seoyun's head snapped up.
"Aquarium?"
"Yeah."
"They have whale there?"
Seeing the look in her eyes, Seoha had the sinking feeling she'd said the wrong thing. It was the expression of a child one wrong answer away from bursting into tears.
Dad looked over at her with a smile.
"Hmm, if we look hard enough, we might find dolphins at least."
"Today?"
Seoyun asked, her eyes shining. Dad glanced toward Mom, who lifted her gaze as though running through the schedule in her head, then gave a light shrug.
"I'm free. It's a little unfortunate Sungwoo won't be here, but... still, if Seoyun wants to see it that badly."
Their two sets of eyes drifted naturally to Seoha, who ate a piece of her egg with a face that said, why are you even asking?
"I'll come too."
Well—it wasn't as if there was any reason not to.
"Whale!"
Seoyun threw both hands up in the air.
The first one to bolt the moment they arrived at the aquarium was, naturally, Seoyun.
Or rather, she tried to bolt, and Mom caught her.
"Jang Seoyun."
"Whale!"
"No running."
"The whale's waiting!"
"The whale isn't going anywhere."
Only after Mom spoke with firm finality did Seoyun cut her speed in half. Seoha took Dad's hand and followed behind.
Being the weekend, the place was fairly crowded—mostly families with young children, so loud voices and laughter echoed from every corner.
Once they passed the entrance and moved deeper in, the lighting gradually dimmed. In its place, a soft blue glow spilled from tanks lining the walls.
A school of small fish wheeled all at once in a single direction. Their silver scales caught the light and shimmered into countless glittering points.
"Whoaaa."
Seoyun, who had been hurrying along in search of her whale, came to a dead stop right at the first tank.
"Unni, look!"
"I'm looking."
"So many fishies!"
"There sure are."
Where was the child who'd been rushing off, insisting the whale was waiting for her? Now Seoyun swayed her whole body along every time the school of fish moved. Then she pressed her palm flat against the tank wall and leaned her face in as close as it would go.
"Seoyun, sweetie, don't put your face on the glass."
Without a word, Dad scooped Seoyun up into his arms.
"Watch from here."
"Daddy, that one's looking at me."
"Is it now?"
"Yeah. It's following me."
A single little tropical fish happened to be drifting near the glass.
"I guess it likes you, Seoyun."
"Yeah."
Apparently satisfied enough by Dad's answer, Seoyun beamed a wide, happy grin. Seoha stood beside them and quietly gazed up into the tank.
"Seoha."
Yoon Hyejin called out to her.
"Yes?"
"You stand over there too."
She turned around to find a camera in her mother's hands. Seoyun was already nestled in Dad's arms, making V-signs with both hands.
"Me too?"
"We came all the way here as a family—we need a picture."
Seoha hesitated a moment, then took her place beside Dad. As if she'd only been waiting, Seoyun wrapped an arm around Seoha's shoulder.
"Unni, smile!"
"I am smiling."
"No you're not."
"......"
Behind the camera, Mom laughed. In the end, Seoha smiled a little too.
Click— and the flash went off.
Not bad, this.
No—truthfully, it was quite a bit nicer than she'd expected. Apparently, carrying an adult's memory didn't make aquariums boring after all.
It was only after wandering around for a good while that Seoyun remembered her original mission.
They were standing in front of the enormous shark tank. As a shark glided overhead, Seoyun—who had been staring up at it open-mouthed—suddenly turned her head.
"Daddy."
"Yes?"
"Where's the whale?"
Dad was at a loss for words for a moment. Seoha fell silent too. The aquarium was, after all, far too small to hold a whale—and there hadn't been any dolphins today either.
In the end, Mom soothed Seoyun with a smile.
"They say there are no big whales here."
Seoyun's face froze.
"No whale?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because whales are just too big."
Seoyun looked up at the massive tank before her. It was enormous, certainly, compared to a three-year-old's body. Beyond the huge glass that stretched nearly to the ceiling, several sharks swam in slow circles. She gazed up at them for a long moment, then turned back to Mom.
"...But this place is big too."
Yoon Hyejin crouched down to meet Seoyun at eye level.
"A really big whale has to live in an ocean much, much bigger than this."
"How big?"
"Enormous. In a place that's big, big, BIG."
"Bigger than sharks?"
"Way, waaay bigger."
Seoyun pursed her lips and mulled it over for a moment. Seoha braced herself for tears, but to her surprise, the child seemed to accept it meekly enough.
As it happened, the wall beside them had a chart comparing the actual sizes of marine creatures. A single human stood drawn small in the middle, with a dolphin, then a shark, laid out beside it in a row. And at the very end stretched a single whale, so colossal it made all the rest look like a joke.
Seoyun planted herself in front of the chart and let her mouth fall open.
"It's HUGE."
"It is, isn't it."
"Bigger than Unni."
Seoha looked down at her little sister with exasperation.
"That goes without saying."
"Bigger than Daddy too."
"Also goes without saying."
"Bigger than Mommy?"
"Yes, bigger than Mommy too."
Seoyun gazed up at the whale illustration once more. She looked at it a little longer than before, then murmured in a small voice:
"I really wanna see one."
It wasn't whining—it was genuine, honest curiosity. Dad gently ruffled Seoyun's hair.
"Someday, when we get the chance, we'll go see one in the ocean."
Seoyun's face lit up at once.
"Really?"
"If we're lucky, we might get to see one."
"Tomorrow?"
"Not tomorrow."
Her lips jutting out into a pout again. But the disappointment didn't last long.
Because ten minutes later, Seoyun was crouched in front of the penguin tank, wearing the face of someone who had just discovered an entirely new world.
"Mommy! He fell down!"
When a penguin waddling across the ice slipped, Seoyun clutched her belly and burst out laughing. And when the fallen penguin picked itself right back up as if nothing had happened and toddled off, the laughter only grew louder.
A little ways off, Seoha watched her sister, then chuckled despite herself.
When Seoyun showed no sign of tearing herself away from the penguin exhibit, Yoon Hyejin and Jang Youngmin naturally stayed behind with her there. In the meantime, Seoha slowly browsed the small tanks lined up right alongside.
Each information placard was packed with detailed facts—the animal's name, habitat range, lifespan, diet. Even among the same species, every individual had its own name or ID number, she read, with separate records kept of how much it ate, how its weight changed, and what condition its health was in.
When one received treatment, the treatment itself was logged; if one ate poorly or behaved oddly compared to usual, that too was noted down for that individual alone.
Well, of course.
It only made sense. You couldn't manage a dozen animals as one lump just because they were the same species. One creature being sick didn't mean nothing was wrong just because another was healthy.
And from there, her thoughts drifted somewhere else entirely.
That reminds me.
Seoha narrowed her eyes slightly.
What's being managed under my name?
Wealth. She had never once doubted that she would come to possess property someday. She was the granddaughter of the chairman of Haewon Group, after all.
And even if Haewon Group collapsed outright, her father's personal assets alone looked to be considerable.
The thing was, she had no idea whether she currently had anything to her name or not. She was, after all, a child of barely five years old. Far too young for serious gifting or inheritance to begin.
Though maybe there's a bank account for allowance or piggy-bank savings?
In a chaebol family, even that would surely amount to quite a sum.
Should I ask?
Dad was standing a short distance away. Mom and Seoyun were still glued to the penguins, but Dad had somehow drifted close to Seoha's side—apparently he'd noticed her falling behind to read the placards and waited for her.
Perfect timing.
For a question like this, there was no one more reliable to ask than her father.