Valentine's Day Chocolate
I never told my daughter when my birthday was.
I didn't believe I had any right to be celebrated.
Her birthday was a sacred event I would never, under any circumstances, allow myself to miss. Mine, on the other hand, was a day that deserved to be forgotten.
And yet, from the year she started middle school, she began to mark it.
I had never told her. She did it anyway.
Pop! Bang!
The moment I stepped through the door, a party popper burst, and a little angel in a cone hat came running to greet me. I have never forgotten that sight.
"Dad! Happy birthday!"
The words please don't do this for my birthday rose all the way to the edge of my lips. I never let them out.
My angel, my unbearably precious girl, had prepared a birthday party just for me. I was too happy to ruin it.
"Why are you crying, Dad?"
"Haha... I'm a grown man... I'm sorry. The tears just came out of nowhere."
"Don't cry, Dad."
She squeezed me tight.
The angel in my arms was impossibly soft, impossibly warm.
"Why did you hide your birthday? You never miss mine."
"...That's......"
"It's okay, Dad. You don't have to say it. I already know."
Even now, the memory of that moment brings the tears welling up all over again.
That my adorable little princess had grown up enough to celebrate a day for a father as wretched as me—I was so grateful I could hardly stand it.
"Dad. Thank you for being born. Because of that, I got to meet you."
"Min-ah... Min-ah......"
The tears I had been holding back burst out of me with nothing to stop them.
I was too happy.
And because of that, I was too ashamed.
I had always believed I needed to be her sturdy pillar. That was why I never, ever let her see me struggling.
"You're crying because you're happy, right? That's it, isn't it?"
But watching my daughter grow up so well—watching her take care of me like this—felt like salvation.
I couldn't contain the feeling that swelled up in my chest. I couldn't stop the sound of my own crying.
"Dad's... this happy... I'm so glad......"
And so my first birthday party, the one my daughter threw for me, ended in a sea of tears.
From that day on, the list of occasions she marked for me only grew.
Except for one.
On Valentine's Day, she never gave me a thing.
Not that I expected her to. It isn't a day a father and daughter are meant to observe in any special way. I never marked White Day for her either. Those, I believed, were days for lovers.
The year Min-ah turned twenty.
February 4th of that year.
I will never forget that day.
Min-ah had applied to Hankuk University. She wanted to go to the same school as her dad. She wasn't quite at the level for one of its most competitive departments, so she applied to the relatively less sought-after Korean Language and Literature Department instead.
She didn't get in.
Min-ah cried and cried. I don't think I had ever heard her weep that bitterly except at the divorce. She was a quiet, deep-hearted child. She had never once given me cause to worry. That was why I was so lost. No matter how I tried to soothe her, she would not stop.
"Dad's sorry. I didn't support my brilliant girl the way I should have... I'm sorry... Dad's so sorry."
"No! It's not your fault! It's because I wasn't good enough!! Because I didn't try hard enough!!"
I had no idea what to do. Leave her be? Or keep trying to comfort her?
"I worked so hard so I could be your fellow alumnus!! I thought I could do it without asking you for a thing!! And then!!"
It was the most thorough self-reproach. And yet all I felt was pride.
She had fallen short of Hankuk University—the top national university in the country—but she had already been accepted to OO University, the second-ranked school overall and the finest private university in Korea.
I had spent almost nothing on her education. It wasn't that I didn't have the money. I could have poured a great deal into it.
"I'm really fine. Online lectures are enough, okay? I don't need expensive tutors. I don't want anyone else in this house."
She had refused high-priced private tutoring. The grades she earned had been built entirely on internet lectures and workbooks.
Friends of mine with children of their own told me the polarization only kept getting worse. That this was an era in which ordinary schoolwork, ordinary studying, would never get you into a good university. In Daechi-dong, the capital of private education, I had heard that tutoring fees of over two million won per subject were not considered excessive at all.
And my daughter had done it with nothing but online lectures. I still don't know how.
"Waaaaah!! I'm sorry, Dad!! My skills weren't enough and I disappointed you!! I'm sorry!! I'm so, so sorry!!"
I had even heard that children who received those two-million-won lessons still found it quite difficult to get into the top private university. How did I know? Because my closest friend's son had applied to OO University the year before and been rejected.
This was nothing to wail over. It was something that deserved praise.
"Dad is not disappointed. Not even a little. I'm proud of you. Getting into OO University alone is already remarkable."
"That's not true!! I was supposed to be your fellow alumnus!! That was my goal!!"
Riiing.
A phone went off at that exact moment.
"Hic... Hel... lo......"
"Y-yes...?"
"Really?! Wow!! Thank you!! Thank you so much!!"
Snap.
Min-ah closed her little study flip phone and threw herself into my arms, still crying.
"Dad!! I did it!!!!"
"D-did what?"
"Hankuk University!! They accepted me in the additional round!!"
Fireworks went off behind my forehead. A joy so enormous it felt like it might tear me open came crashing through me all at once.
My daughter... had gotten into Hankuk University.
I hadn't even dared to hope for it. It was the Korean Language and Literature Department, yes—but with a name like Hankuk University behind her, finding work afterward would hardly be difficult. I had told her OO University was more than fine. But this... this was even better. So much better.
"You did it, my girl!!"
I hoisted her into the air. By then she was already five foot nine. She was still light as down. Adrenaline had something to do with it, no doubt—but she really was that light. It was strange. It wasn't as though she barely ate.
"Hhk... hh-hhhk!!! Dad!! Daaad!!"
Lifted off the ground, Min-ah's tears sprayed out like a mist and, for the briefest instant, caught the light in a rainbow before they vanished.
"You worked so hard!! My girl!! You really, truly worked so hard!! I'm so proud of you!! You're the pride of my whole life!!"
"Thank you... thank you, Dad...!! Hearing you say that... I'm so happy......"
When I set her down, she came straight back into my arms.
"Even if you let go, Dad will always be Min-ah's."
"Dad... I love you."
"Dad loves his girl too."
"Dad......"
Min-ah looked up at me. I had never seen anything so beautiful as those eyes, brimming with tears.
Her pink lips twitched. She looked as though she were about to say something.
"...No. Not yet."
"Does my girl have something she wants to say?"
"No. No. Dad!! Come to think of it, I want the curry you make!! With a soft-boiled egg on top!"
The gravity vanished from her face, replaced in an instant by that familiar, mischievous look.
Why was that?
Why had I tensed up, even for a second?
"Dad's curry! The most delicious curry in the whole world!!"
It was my late mother's recipe. The curry I had loved more than anything she ever made. I cooked it exactly the way she had. And a daughter who didn't share a single drop of my blood loved it too.
I was so grateful.
She was such a lovable girl. My daughter.
Ten days later, February 14th arrived.
"Dad! This!"
She held out a small box wrapped entirely in vivid crimson.
"What's this?"
"Hehe. Open it."
The matte scarlet was almost violently intense. As if spellbound, I tore the wrapping open.
Rip.
Inside was a box of the same color.
"What on earth did my daughter give me?"
"Hurry. Hurry up and open it."
Min-ah's smiling eyes were so beautiful. That crescent-moon curve is a rare thing. My daughter was a girl who could smile like that.
Crack.
"Wow... chocolate?"
"It's Valentine's Day. I made them for the dad I love!"
They were a little lumpy, unmistakably homemade. But the care that had gone into them was written on every uneven surface.
"Try one! Dad! Come on!"
I picked one up. It was heavier than it looked, as though something had been packed inside. I put it in my mouth.
Crunch.
A pleasant burst, and then a liquid came flooding over my tongue.
The taste was... liquor.
The first note was a faint saltiness, and then a rush of heavy oak and high-proof alcohol bloomed across my palate.
Whiskey.
The salt deepened the chocolate's sweetness even as the whiskey's sharp, nasal burn wove through it all—a harmony so perfect it bordered on the fantastic.
"Well? Well?"
She was waiting for my verdict, her whole face expectant.
"It's delicious! The best chocolate I've ever had!"
Watching me so happy, Min-ah's smile spread until it filled her face.
"I made them with whiskey because you're an adult... honestly, I wasn't sure how I felt about it, but seeing you this happy, I think I like them now."
Min-ah picked up a chocolate.
"Think of it as a toast. From me, now that I'm an adult, raised to you."
Her long fingers, still holding the chocolate, slid all the way into my mouth, back to my throat. I couldn't even chew. I had no choice but to swallow it whole.
Morning.
The morning Eun-hyeok left for the hospital.
The instant her father was out the door, Min-ah moved with quick, sure purpose. She had already been preparing to make chocolate in the kitchen.
"Hmm~ hm-hm~ hmm~."
Humming a little tune, she worked the chocolate with practiced hands. Then she went to Eun-hyeok's liquor cabinet and selected a bottle of whiskey.
"A liquor this strong... should be fine, right?"
Min-ah began mixing the whiskey with an unidentifiable liquid from a bottle she had brought with her. And then, with great care, she started injecting that mixture into the filling of each chocolate.