Chapter 191
Chapter 191
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 191
Chapter Title: Episode 62. Debate Topic: Praise (2)
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"Good job."
"Right? I totally nailed it!"
Gaeul bounced around, hugging the chick.
Yeah.
He had praised her, sure.
But was that it?
Something felt off about the timing, like the praise had wrapped up awkwardly. He pondered the next compliment. Actually trying to give one made him realize it wasn't easy.
"What do you mean good job? You just got ridiculously lucky."
"What! Being lucky is being good!"
"Is that you being good?"
"Better than you, Unni! Luck is skill, you know? Who picked Seoul? If you'd gone for Tokyo, I'd have lost!"
"Oh, listen to this pro-Japan traitor."
"Hmph... Hehe!"
"You picked China, so you're an Erpan spy! Ah...!"
Pweeek! Yeoreum finally snapped and pinned Gaeul down, twisting her leg. The furious chick charged to defend its owner, but once Gaeul submitted, it was the little guy's turn. Pweep...! Its tiny leg got wrenched back.
"Hngh... You okay...?"
"Pwee..."
The battered yellow soldiers comforted each other.
"Try mouthing off again. Squish."
Meanwhile, Yoo Ji-tae thought to himself. Buying a good building—that could be praise-worthy.
"Gaeul."
"Yes?"
"You've got a real eye for land."
"Huh? Ehehe, you think so?"
"...Why?"
"That sounds so weird...! Yeah, should I just go into real estate then?"
"Sure, dungeon pops up in your real estate~."
"Whoa, that'd be a jackpot!"
"......"
"Huh? Why? Now the house has a basement, so double the space..."
Anyway, Gaeul seemed thrilled. Yoo Ji-tae slipped back into the study and jotted down the praise for Gaeul and its aftermath in his notebook.
The board games continued after that. Bom grabbed Winter's hand and went out to buy drinks and snacks. The play session kicked off in earnest. Rather than joining in, Yoo Ji-tae observed the kids, timing his next praises.
In his opinion, the weirdest board game was Jenga. As dragons, the girls' focus made their precision inhuman.
The neat wooden blocks twisted into something acrobatic after 30 turns.
Bom's turn now.
The bizarre, wobbly tower.
As Bom reached for a block, Yeoreum sneaked up beside her. From where Yoo Ji-tae sat behind Yeoreum, he could only see the back of her head, but Gaeul and Winter burst out laughing.
"Uhihihi!"
"...Hehe."
She must have made a hilarious face.
Bom glanced at Yeoreum, then turned away.
What was with that? Even Bom seemed amused, her breathing irregular. That's how it gets when you hold back laughter.
Trembling hand.
Hesitating as she gripped the block.
Then Bom whipped around to Yeoreum.
"Yeoreum."
"What? Just go already."
"That's cheating."
"What'd I do? Hurry up, you broccoli! Time's running out!"
"You, you really..."
As Bom reached out, Yeoreum shoved her face in again. A snort escaped her pouty expression. Soon, the Jenga tower shook and collapsed.
What kind of face was that?
The defeated Bom flopped down and got thwacked on the back. Two sets of hands. One elbow. Thud. As Bom looked up in surprise, Gaeul, Winter, and the chick subtly nodded toward Yeoreum.
"......"
Anyway, the loser had to set up the next game. Bom impassively gathered and stacked the blocks while Yeoreum giggled beside her.
That was when Yoo Ji-tae figured out why the kids got so into the games. Yeoreum seemed to be drawing out everyone's competitive spirit.
"Yeoreum."
"Yeah?"
"You're having a blast, huh?"
"What..."
She brushed it off casually.
"But why are you sitting over there?"
"Why."
"Go join them."
Yeoreum pointed at the spot next to Bom.
He didn't budge.
"You're surprisingly good at being nice. Good job."
"What're you on about? You're crazy."
"Why?"
"What is this? You've been acting like a total boomer."
"......"
While the kids started the next game, Yoo Ji-tae wrote about praising Yeoreum in his notebook.
Playtime over, it was cleanup time. The biggest losers, Bom and Winter, tidied up the scattered snacks and drink bottles. He could have made the guardians do it, but this seemed to be their little wager. Yoo Ji-tae watched quietly, then spoke to Winter as she diligently gathered trash.
"You're good at cleaning up."
"......?"
Winter looked up at him, tilting her head.
"You could make someone else do it, but you're doing it yourself."
"...Yes."
"Good girl."
Winter smiled and nodded.
Then she cleaned even more enthusiastically. Winter seemed to take the praise well.
He scribbled notes about Winter and praise in the journal.
Last was Bom.
But nothing stood out to praise. She'd played averagely throughout, enjoyed it moderately. Nothing eye-catching.
So Yoo Ji-tae pondered what to praise her for but ended up saying nothing before the gathering broke up.
Evening.
For the first time in a while, Yoo Ji-tae decided to cook himself.
He'd bought four medium mackerels from the nearby mart.
Mackerel grill for dinner.
His cooking skills were crude, limited to field rations from long deployments—nothing impressive. He usually preferred takeout. But today, he felt a whim.
Remove the heads. Gills and guts clinging to them. Fins, all meticulously cleaned.
Wipe dry, then remove the long spine, thinly slicing out the ribcage protecting the innards. Eight times over.
Soak roughly in soju. That cut the fishy smell, probably.
His old soldier buddies had fancier marinating tricks, but he didn't know them.
He found frying mix instead of flour—probably Bom's. Dusted the fish with it. Salt, pepper. Sautéed minced garlic and green onion in oil first for flavor.
Sizzle...
The mackerel grilled, soaking up the scented oil on the pan.
Mindlessly grilling fish, a quiet question arose.
Why couldn't he praise Bom?
He'd been fumbling with awkward praises, but even after timing it, nothing came.
When and how to praise?
Only praise accomplishments?
Sizzle... As he pondered this unfamiliar dilemma watching the cooking fish.
"...Oh."
Winter sidled up, peeking.
Too short to see well into the high pan, she stood on tiptoe.
"...What's that?"
"Grilled mackerel."
"...Smells good."
"Yeah? Glad you think so."
He flipped the mackerel absentmindedly.
The frying mix charred black. Relying on hazy memories, but it looked similar to back then.
Winter went "ooh" watching from the side. Looked tasty, judging by her reaction.
During the ongoing cooking, Winter's casual words hit his ear unexpectedly.
"...Cooking looks cool."
He paused mid-flip and looked down at her.
"What?"
"...Huh?"
"Say it again."
"...Ajusshi cooking."
"Yeah."
"...Is cool."
Winter then headed to the living room to call the others. Dinner time.
Left alone, he mulled it over.
Cooking is cool.
Was that praise? Seemed like it. "Cool" makes people happy.
But he hadn't done anything special. Not a fancy mackerel grill. No great effort.
Just like Bom playing.
Yoo Ji-tae had just cooked.
Yet this kid praised him?
"Whoa, looks tasty. You made this yourself?"
"Wow, thanks for the food."
Even as the kids ate the grilled mackerel with simple sides and soup, Yoo Ji-tae pondered Winter's praise.
He'd wrestled with this before.
If he had kids.
Praise only great achievements?
Or praise the act itself?
Praise the result of diligent cleaning?
Or praise just for having fun?
The former rewarded outcomes.
The latter felt like cheering existence itself.
He hadn't answered back then. But now, he needed to try.
And Bom usually knew this stuff.
"Huh? Praise?"
After dinner, Yoo Ji-tae called Bom to the terrace.
Dark settled sky. Under the terrace's single light, Bom echoed him.
"Why praise?"
"When's the right time to praise?"
"When?"
Yoo Ji-tae briefly explained achievements versus acts.
Bom stared blankly into his eyes, nodding.
"What do you think?"
She fiddled with her lower lip.
"Tricky... Praising only good performance feels like controlled rewards."
"Winter cleaned harder after."
"Good, but too outcome-focused. If Winter doesn't clean hard, no praise. Then it's praising cleaning the mess, not Winter..."
"Right."
"But praising the act sloppily? That feels off too."
"Why?"
"If praise anytime, what's the point?"
"No point?"
"Common stuff loses value. No one wants what anyone can have anytime."
Sometimes he thought, Bom nurtures flowers in pots, but her mind's a dry desert.
Both extreme approaches sucked.
"Hmm..."
Bom gazed afar blankly.
Her sullen blue eyes peered beyond the mountains.
Then her face brightened a bit as she turned to him.
"Ah, how about this?"
"What."
"Praise achievements first. Keeps the value. And..."
"And?"
"Set the bar super low."
"Like?"
"Earlier, Winter and I cleaned. Just us two, right?"
"Yeah."
"Voluntary, so praiseworthy."
"Hmm."
"Not getting it?"
"Explain more."
"Say Winter draws. Praising achievement means pretty picture, right?"
"Yes."
"But suppose she just wants a nice circle. First one's wobbly. Practice makes rounder. Finally, a pretty round one... Good job, but not big deal."
He nodded, imagining Winter drawing circles.
"But she wanted it. Achieved it. Not amazing, but praiseworthy?"
"Aha."
He nodded again. Even tiny achievements. If clear "achievement," praise it.
Don't dismiss small circles. If that's what she aimed for, it's praise-worthy.
That way, it's thoughtful toward the person, not just achievement, preserving value.
To Yoo Ji-tae, solid advice.
"Thanks. Learned something."
"Sure."
"You always teach me stuff."
The regressor realized: praise time.
"You're really smart."
He looked at the dark sky, missing Bom's face light up real-time. Wide-eyed, she thought, then spoke softly.
"Ah..."
"What."
"I... think I misspoke."
"Huh?"
"There are good ways to praise acts or existence too."
"Like what."
Pajama-clad Bom sidled up.
The regressor stepped back slightly. But she clung anyway.
One step back. Another. Still, pouty Bom advanced.
"What's this about."
Terrace wasn't big; more backing up pointless.
"Praise. Praise."
Bom closed in till noses nearly touched, brushing green hair behind her ear.
"Still don't get it?"
"......"
Chin-to-chin, she looked up. Face close, her big green eyes loomed larger. No other touch, but eye contact bloomed awkwardness like flowers.
"How do I look?"
How what. He fumbled for an answer.
Predictably, mischief sparkled. She knew he didn't know, approached anyway. Stutter here, and he'd be the butt of jokes.
Brain spun in the pinch.
Sudden thought: this distance with her.
This place with her.
This twilight hour.
What happened here then.
Too awkward to meet eyes, he uttered what he couldn't before, like fleeing.
"Pretty."
Bom's advance halted. Pressure gone, he turned. "Heading in first." He escaped being teased today.
Bom shut the terrace door and came in much later.
"Unni."
Yeoreum knocked on Bom's door.
No answer. But Bom was inside.
"Hello? Hey. Yoo Bom?"
Still nothing, so Yeoreum flung the door open.
Bom face-planted into her pillow.
"What're you doing? No answer even when I call."
"......Why."
"Lend me that book you bought last time. Just one."
"......Sure."
Surprisingly compliant. Yeoreum snatched the horror romance novel tensely.
But Bom stayed prone, unmoving till she left.
Not asleep.
Watching quietly, her pale feet wiggled up and down.
"What's with her...?"