The Priest’s Indifference
"Father, no matter how much I think about it, that priest seems like he's only trying to use us. It's as if he's working us to the bone without offering the slightest compensation..."
Hwan smiled. Did the man truly dislike him that much? Still, Hwan wanted to believe in him. At least this was the only person who had ever extended a hand without demanding anything in return. Thanks to him, Hwan—who had lost all sense of direction and wandered in confusion—had finally found something resembling a path. Yes, he wanted to believe. Or rather, even if belief was beyond him, with his mother's whereabouts still unknown, the priest's help remained desperately necessary.
The red light turned green. Hwan pressed the accelerator to the floor, and the car surged forward with a throaty roar. The destination was not far.
"I'll grant your wish. Anything at all."
"Hmm... I don't really have any."
"Anything is fine. Tell me what you want. Don't you want to be healthy? Or to have lots of money?"
"I don't know."
The indifferent replies continued, and with each one the shadow that had offered the wish grew more agitated.
"Really? You truly have nothing you desire?"
"Hmm... Then play with me."
"Th-that's your wish?"
As the shadow faltered, the child lying on the bed before it gave a small shrug. Her expression was impossibly apathetic. Though she was still young, her face looked as though she had already lived an entire lifetime. The shadow's features twisted with frustration before it settled into the chair beside the bed.
The child soon picked up the tablet lying nearby and resumed watching YouTube. The video showed a camping scene. Even so, her face showed no trace of pleasure.
"Then shall I make your family happy again, like they used to be?"
The child, who had been staring at the screen, paused. She turned her head and met the gaze of the shadow, which was smiling in a strange, unnatural way. It was pitch black, with only two eyes visible—eyes that could not possibly belong to a human. Those eyes were laughing grotesquely. The child stared for a long moment, then shook her head once more. The shadow frowned.
"Nothing will change. They'll just fight again anyway."
"Hmm... All right then! How about new parents? I can do that too, you know."
"I don't want that either."
The child's voice remained flat. The shadow wore an expression that said she was stubbornly difficult. A portion of the darkness that might have been a hand emerged, scratching at what might have been a cheek. Then it simply watched her again in heavy silence. The child's eyes never left the tablet screen.
She could not have been ten years old, yet her face was far too indifferent. It held a melancholy rarely seen in children her age. Not the smallest spark of joy could be found in it. There was no innocence left at all.
The shadow suddenly realized the girl had not smiled even once since it had arrived. It pondered what to do. It had faced countless people before. So many, drunk on greed, had begged for excessive wishes and eventually sold their souls. The souls of greedy children were exquisitely sweet. The last one, especially—how delicious that soul had been, plump and rich, the finest delicacy the shadow had ever tasted.
But this child... was different. She seemed to exist on an entirely separate plane from the others it had met, and the realization left it at a loss. For a moment it wondered if it had chosen the wrong target. Yet pride would not allow it to retreat. It had never once failed to tempt a child, and that pride refused to let it change course now.
"You truly... have nothing you desire? Really? How is that possible?"
"I really don't."
The emotionless replies continued, as lifeless as a doll's. Then—
The door to the private room slid open. A doctor in a white coat entered with a woman who could only be the child's mother.
"Suji, Mom's here."
The gentle voice called to her. Suji glanced briefly at the doctor and her mother, Heein, over the edge of the tablet, then returned her gaze to the screen without a word. At the indifferent reaction, Heein smiled awkwardly and glanced at the doctor. He seemed accustomed to it and showed no reaction, simply approaching as usual to examine Suji's condition. Fortunately there were no immediate concerns, though how long that would last was anyone's guess. Suji suffered from an incurable disease. For a child not yet ten, it was unbearably cruel. Yet Suji herself remained strangely calm.
The doctor continued with explanations laced with medical terminology that Suji could not understand. Heein, however, understood every word, and her face grew increasingly bitter and dark. When the doctor finally left, only mother and daughter remained in the room.
A heavy silence settled between them. Heein approached her daughter with a complicated expression.
"How are you feeling? Any discomfort? If you need anything, just tell me."
"I'm fine..."
The indifferent answer pierced Heein like a blade. She sighed and gently stroked her daughter's disheveled hair. Suji offered no response. She seemed not only apathetic but perhaps even angry. Heein glanced at the tablet. Once again it was a camping video. She knew Suji had been watching them obsessively lately; the YouTube algorithm had begun recommending nothing else. And she knew exactly why her daughter had become fixated on them.
Before the illness, the family had gone camping together. Back then Suji had smiled with pure, unreserved happiness like any other child. She had been...
Heein hesitated, then spoke.
"If... if you get better, shall we go camping together?"
Suji stopped moving. After a long pause she turned the tablet off entirely. Still no answer came. She simply lay with her back to her mother. A heavy sigh escaped Heein.
Then—
"What about Dad?" Suji asked.
Heein's face froze. She could not answer. Suji, as if she had expected nothing less, buried her face deeper into the pillow. She hated it all. She resented everything—her mother, her father, even this body that kept her from seeing her friends. She reached for the tablet again but found even that had lost its appeal. She hated this, hated that. She simply hated everything.
Heein watched her daughter for nearly ten minutes before speaking again.
"Mom has to get back to work... If you need anything, tell me, all right? I'll bring it next time."
Suji said nothing. Heein nodded helplessly and left with a final, "Get some rest."
Alone once more, Suji turned the tablet back on. In the now utterly silent private room, her shadow stretched long across the floor. From within it, another shadow slowly emerged. It slipped free of Suji's shadow, passed through the window, scaled the hospital wall to the rooftop, and looked down.
A luxury car was gliding away into the distance. Heein's car.
The shadow watched it for a long time, then threw itself from the roof. A dark mass plummeted toward the ground with a soft whoosh.
Inside the hospital, several people looking out the windows flinched in shock. Some screamed as the dark shape fell past; others frantically opened the windows and peered down. But there was nothing on the ground below. Something dark had definitely fallen, yet nothing could be seen.
"Why didn't you come today? You said you would."
The cold voice cut through the line the moment Heein's car came to a stop in the apartment parking lot. The vehicle's warmth still lingered inside. After a brief hesitation, she had called her husband, Hyuksoo. He answered quickly, but his tone was sharply aggressive. Naturally, hers became the same.
"Last time and now again—you promised you'd come. Do you have any idea how long Suji waited? You're still her father, aren't you?"
There was a pause on the other end. In the background, a woman's voice seemed to murmur something. Heein's expression grew even colder.
"Ah... I was busy."
The reply was utterly indifferent. How could anyone be so cold? Even if they were headed for divorce, this was too heartless.