The Existence of Family
“Our aircraft will soon be arriving at Incheon Airport. Thank you for flying with us today. We hope every one of you reaches your destination safely, and please keep your seatbelts fastened until the next announcement.”
The cabin announcement filled the air as the plane began its final preparations for landing at Incheon.
It had been a long flight.
Hanpan was lost in a deep, honeyed sleep when the buddy beside him jabbed him with an elbow.
“Hey, Hanpan, wake up… We’re here…”
“Mmmph… Yeah?”
Hanpan blinked his eyes open and peered out the window. The distinctive yellow-brown waters of the Yellow Sea stretched below, dotted with a scattering of islands. The aircraft dropped altitude swiftly. A dull thud shuddered through the cabin as the massive plane touched down on the runway; Hanpan’s body tipped forward for a moment before the jet rapidly bled off speed. Once safely landed, it taxied slowly toward its assigned gate.
Through the window, the hazy skyline of Incheon Airport came into view. Nearly a year had passed since he last saw it. He rolled his stiff shoulders and stretched his arms and legs, working out the kinks from the long hours in the air. It had been a sweet sleep.
“So what are you gonna do now, Hanpan?”
“Huh?”
“I dunno… Haven’t really thought about it yet. Figure I’ll head home and take my time deciding…”
“That so? Lucky you… Having the luxury to think things over. Hahaha.”
Watching his friend grin toothily at him, Hanpan offered a wry smile of his own and turned back to the window. The truth was, he had never seriously considered what came after discharge. All he knew was that he had plenty of time ahead of him, and that his not-so-short military service had already changed him in more ways than one.
The endless grind of army life had driven him to the gym with relentless consistency; his body was harder, more sculpted, and more striking than it had ever been. Vitality thrummed through every muscle. Energy overflowed. At twenty-two, it felt as though nothing in the world was impossible for him.
Returning straight to university had crossed his mind, but his major no longer matched his interests, so he was leaning toward putting school on hold and trying something else first. Another thought that surfaced was taking a temporary job at the company his mother ran—or the one his father operated.
The moment his thoughts drifted to his parents, a quiet sigh escaped him.
They had divorced right before he enlisted. Accepting that fact had been brutally hard. The desire to get away for a while had been one of the reasons he decided to join the military in the first place.
His parents had fought often and loudly once he entered high school, over every kind of issue. There was rarely a peaceful day under their roof. Near the end of middle school, his maternal grandfather had passed away. Park Miho inherited the family business. The new responsibilities had stressed her at first, but she soon poured everything she had into the company and threw herself into a whirlwind of work. That shift became the root of their deepest conflicts.
By the time Hanpan started high school, something fundamental inside Park Miho had changed. Kim Taesik found those changes deeply distasteful. Business disagreements only poured fuel on the fire; Hanpan had witnessed more than a few of their heated arguments.
His father, Taesik, had started out as a barista who opened a small café when Hanpan was young. The venture thrived, grew into a brand, and eventually became a nationally recognized coffee chain with stores everywhere. After retiring from that success, Taesik reinvented himself as a well-known local politician.
Hanpan’s maternal grandfather had been one of Korea’s earliest importers of foreign cars. He built a reputation dealing in luxury and rare vehicles, opening dealerships that became famous. When he died, Miho took over the business despite her many doubts, honoring her father’s final wishes. Her business instincts proved sharp. In fact, Taesik’s own rise from barista to franchise coffee mogul had owed a great deal to Miho’s commercial sense.
Once she inherited the dealership, she elevated it into an exclusive high-end operation that catered only to a select VIP clientele. Later she expanded into entertainment, building a respectable talent agency as well. As her companies grew rapidly, Taesik—who had wanted a quiet, supportive wife for his political career—grew increasingly resentful.
While the household became materially more comfortable, the constant friction at home left Hanpan stressed as well. Still, he and his older sisters sincerely rooted for their mother’s success and respected their father’s transformation into a politician. Separate from that respect, the discord between the two adults cast a long shadow over the children’s lives. Even so, all three siblings managed to enter good schools.
The fighting never stopped. After watching Hanpan enroll in university, Taesik finally demanded a divorce. His conservative nature simply could not accept Miho’s refusal to remain under his control. That was the breaking point.
When the divorce was finalized, Hanpan and his sisters chose to live with their mother. There were several reasons, but the decisive one was learning that their father already had another woman. Hanpan only discovered that Taesik had remarried while he was still serving overseas. The news had been a shock at first, yet he eventually accepted it with quiet composure.
His father had once been an excellent man—devoted to the family, willing to sacrifice everything to keep it intact. Taesik had been a kind and good father. Hanpan never denied that. If anything, he remained deeply grateful for it. Still, he had come to believe that everyone carried their own reasons for the choices they made.
During his service he had occasionally video-called his family to let them know he was doing fine. The remarriage announcement that came during one of those calls with his father had still hit hard.
While Hanpan was lost in these recollections, another cabin announcement sounded, informing passengers they could unfasten their seatbelts. People rose in a rush, reaching for their bags. Hanpan unbuckled, stood, and retrieved his luggage from the overhead bin. After a short wait, the line began to shuffle toward the exit. He moved with the flow of bodies.
After receiving the cabin crew’s farewell, he stepped out into the terminal. The familiar, slightly humid air of Korea wrapped around him—warm, nostalgic, and unmistakably home. He and his buddies formed a loose group and walked the corridor together. An unnameable excitement stirred in his chest.
“Man… how long has it been…” one of them murmured.
“Right? Korea really is the best… Hahaha.” Hanpan laughed brightly as they approached immigration.
He scanned his passport at the automated kiosk. The gate opened; he passed through immigration and headed to baggage claim, waiting for his suitcase. One by one the carousel spat out luggage. Soon he spotted his own. The others found theirs as well. For a moment the group simply looked at one another. Memories of their shared time abroad—hard, unforgettable months—rose between them. Mixed emotions crowded Hanpan’s chest.
“Alright… let’s call it here. We’ll get in touch soon and grab a drink. You all did great.”
One of them spoke; the rest nodded and exchanged quiet glances of farewell. They pulled one another into firm hugs, offering encouragement for the futures that now stretched ahead. After releasing the last embrace, Hanpan gripped his suitcase handle with practiced ease and headed toward the arrivals hall.
The automatic doors slid open onto a sea of people craning their necks for family or friends. Some waved handmade signs and cheered; others wept openly. Meeting family again carried that kind of weight. Hanpan scanned the crowd until a familiar face came into view. His lips curved upward.
Off to one side stood his father, Kim Taesik. The moment Taesik spotted him, a bright smile lit the older man’s face. Hanpan walked straight over—only for the woman standing beside his father to catch his eye. She was a stranger, yet strikingly attractive. Around the mid-160s in height, she wore low heels that gave her a demure, classical elegance.
“Ah… my son…”
Kim Taesik greeted him with open pride and a radiant smile. Hanpan set his suitcase down, straightened, and snapped a crisp salute.
“Sergeant Kim Hanpan, having received orders for discharge, hereby reports. Unity!”
Taesik pulled him into a tight embrace.
“You did well, son! I’m so proud of you. Hahaha!”
Genuine joy filled the older man’s voice at seeing his boy home safe after completing his service. After holding him a moment longer, Taesik released the hug and gestured toward the woman at his side.