Plan B
My feelings toward my mother were a complicated mess.
They were simply a little better than those toward my father, but I had always assumed the affection she showed me was fake anyway.
What if it had actually been real?
Of course, when I was her proud son, she would have loved me with all her heart.
But once I became a woman and my father and grandmother disappointed her, I might have been hated along with them.
Still, since she gave birth to me from her aching belly, maybe she really did pick up the knife at the end.
No, I hoped she had.
Even so, I was still naively hoping I had family left after that pain.
I wanted to say I was sorry for resenting her.
But maybe that was exactly what Gomo had warned about.
In the end, nothing would change: I would have to ask my mother directly why she had done it.
All I could do was pray that my guess would be right.
But was it okay to even hope for that?
What if that faith turned out to be a betrayal?
What if my mother had only stabbed my father for her own personal purpose?
What then?
“I hope Gomo is right. I have no idea how to confirm it. My mother is in prison, and I don’t even know how to bring up the subject…”
So I asked the wise viewers for their opinions.
Gomo had told them how to message her, and the collective wisdom had already given me a good phrase.
Even though each person’s field was different, when you gathered opinions like this, good ideas could still surface.
Surprisingly, the answer came quickly.
Of course, the answer had already been decided from the start.
Anyway, to even talk to my mother about anything, I first had to find my mother in the prison.
And it wasn’t something I could just see whenever I wanted to look; I had to follow the visit procedures.
Still, thanks to the viewers telling me the method, I didn’t have to waste time searching.
Just as they said, I would have to go myself no matter what.
Just as my mother was my mother, if she really had stabbed my father to protect me,
she might be regretting it right now.
She had done it for me, her own child, but I hadn’t even gone to visit her.
If she never came before release, our relationship might end there.
Of course, I might be expecting too much.
After all, my mother had her own separate reasons.
Even so, I had to go visit her.
I didn’t want to break this thread of family.
…Anyone who heard it would call it a stupid thought.
After all, my mother had closed her mouth and been taken away.
She hadn’t told me anything extra.
But what if I had looked up her trial schedule and sat in the public gallery?
In that case I might have heard the motive behind pulling out the knife.
The police and prosecutor could always say they hadn’t told me, but
I was legally family to my mother.
If I asked, they would have told me the schedule and place.
I was the one who hadn’t asked.
So this tangled knot was something I had to untie myself.
It was more realistic for me to move than for my mother in prison.
“Thank you, everyone. I feel a little clearer now. I’ll try to schedule a visit soon. Ah, I have to go register too. The early shift people are probably heading to bed soon, so I can rotate the matches.”
After that cleanup, I didn’t feel any anxiety or sadness at all.
If my mother had really pulled the knife for me, we could become family again.
Even if not, if her reasons had been purely selfish,
then we would just go our separate ways as we were now.
I would become a pro gamer, move out, and my mother would live here on her own when she got out.
Each of us would walk our own path.
I was already calm.
But the viewers were still showing concern for me.
If they saw my face, they would know I didn’t need it.
Ah, anyway, my face wasn’t on the camera.
Of course I had no intention of making people uncomfortable by showing my face.
Instead, I should speak in a brighter voice and let them know I was fine.
“I’m really okay. After all, even if things go wrong, it’s better than before. Originally I thought I’d die if money ran out before my mother got out, but thanks to you all, things turned out this way. Worst case, I break even. I’ll become a pro gamer and move out, and my mother will live on her own here after she gets out. We’ll each take our own path.”
It was exactly as the viewers said.
They had said the right to my father’s inheritance belonged only to me.
So the house would be inherited by me.
But that made me uncomfortable.
After all, people should live within their means.
Even if I became a pro gamer and won trophies later, I still wasn’t a veteran yet.
How much income could a brand-new pro gamer earn?
If I made even two million won a month, that would be lucky.
Would that be enough to pay rent, utilities, and management fees in this apartment?
On the other hand, my mother was physically fit enough to work in society.
If she wanted to, she could make a living after release in any way she could.
Well, if she was struggling, she could sell the house and each live their own way.
Anyway, that was talk for when things went wrong.
Like a top laner whose lane is broken thinking of Plan B.
Even that wasn’t the worst option, which was dying and losing.
That way I would have been enough.
“Since it hasn’t happened yet. Well, enough of that talk. Let’s do some Goma climbing. Ah, I should change my name too. Until I go to Goma, I’m not sleeping.”
Now my off-topic talk was over.
I had to respond to the viewers who had come to watch my game.
I queued for the match and watched the viewers’ chat for any interesting stories.
It was also the time of day with the fewest people.
At least a five-minute wait for the match.
I would use that time to communicate things I couldn’t do in-game.
While I was at it, I would also look up the visit method the viewers had suggested.
After all, as soon as the match started, the League of Champions client would pop up at the top and force me to accept or reject.
After a long wait, I wouldn’t miss the game.
But when a viewer said something completely out of the blue, my gaze suddenly shot toward that direction.
I didn’t know what “melting the ice” meant, but
suddenly talking about the next-door unni made me wonder if she had said something while I wasn’t paying attention?
Did it leak into the mic…?
“Next-door unni? She went to work earlier. What are you talking about. Ah, did you hear unni’s voice…?”
First I reminded myself that next-door unni had gone to work earlier, and I turned around.
Just in case there was something I hadn’t heard and I felt sorry.
But after turning around,
for some reason I didn’t see next-door unni’s figure.
I lowered my head thinking she might have hidden under the bed, but nothing.
I moved the chair toward the door thinking she might have stepped out for a moment, but nothing.
Or maybe she had gone to work while I was focused on the broadcast?
It was a little unsatisfying that she had quietly disappeared, but
well, I had greeted her earlier.
After all, next-door unni wasn’t shy about treating me kindly.
So I could understand that much.