Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: The Ownerless Glare (1)
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Yoon-seule hops in place, waving both hands above her head.
Her mouth is hanging from ear to ear.
"Oppa, mirror! Need mirror!"
"Wait just a sec."
We don't keep a separate mirror at home, so I pull up the front camera on my smartphone.
She gazes contentedly at her face on the screen, tilting her head at an angle.
What she's focusing on is the back of her head.
The ponytail is complete!
"Horse tail!"
Yoon-seule-ism: hair tied back = horse tail.
I tied her hair with a string for the first time in a while.
I'd never done it before, but it seems like I've gathered the strands into a nice, balanced style.
No flyaways—perfectly neat.
"Oppa did it!"
"This way your hair won't fly everywhere, right?"
"Yeah! Whee~."
Wheeli-li-li— she makes the sound with her mouth and shakes her head side to side. With the string holding it, only the ponytail swings loosely without messing up.
Now she can go bike riding with peace of mind.
The reason for tying her hair is simple.
On windy days, it had been a hassle—her hair would whip around wildly.
It was especially bad when she was on the bike.
"Ugh... Oppa, Yoon-seul's hair flying..."
"Poking your eyes?"
"Nooo... keeps getting in my mouth."
We'd had that conversation once while biking home. But I couldn't fix the flying hair issue right then.
Did we even have hair ties at home?
So yesterday, on my way to work, I stopped by the stationery store on the brink of extinction and bought a few.
And today, a holiday, I'm tying Yoon-seule's hair so we can head out.
We're going to ride bikes and sightsee the neighborhood.
We'll be biking around for a good while, and if I didn't tie it back, a whole clump of hair would end up in Yoon-seule's mouth.
"Alright, shall we head out? Neighborhood tour time."
"Yoon-seul's all ready."
"Let's roll."
"Ah! Wait a bit."
She tugs at my pant leg.
Looks like she wants to show me something.
I crouch down to meet Yoon-seule's eyes.
She suddenly beams and spins around.
Then she rubs her "horse tail" vigorously against my thigh.
Swish-swish— swish-swish—
"...? What're you doing?"
"Oppa cleaning."
"You're cleaning Oppa?"
"Yeah! Dusting it off. Swish-swish."
Not sure if it's because she's excited about the bike ride or if she just loves the ponytail that much.
She's putting on some playful affection.
This is why you raise a little sister.
Ah, little sister.
As soon as we step outside, the air feels totally different from yesterday.
It's mostly in my head, though.
"Hmm, already May, huh."
"May already."
It's May 1st before we know it.
Which means Yoon-seule's birthday is just four days away.
The street trees are bursting with fresh green.
Summer's right around the corner, I think.
That's the main reason I dragged the bike out on a holiday.
Summer makes it awkward to be active outside, you know.
Korean summers.
The kind where humidity melts into sweat and water droplets, leaving your bare skin and short-sleeved shirt sticky.
Not a pleasant sensation at all.
"Any place Yoon-seul wants to go?"
"Nope."
"Then Oppa can just cruise around wherever?"
"Yeah."
I haven't really taken Yoon-seule biking around the neighborhood much.
At most, trips to the mart or heading to work.
Figured I'd casually show her the sights by bike.
Clunk, zing-zing-zing—
I seat her on the back and start pedaling.
The oiled chain meshes with the gears, letting out a thin friction sound.
"Zing-zing..."
She presses her soft cheek against my back and mimics the noise with her mouth.
She's thrilled.
Yoon-seule usually imitates mechanical sounds like that when she's in a great mood.
Zing-zing.
Zing-zing.
Zing-zing- Zing—
I pedal loosely, letting my mind go half-free.
Just to enjoy the aimless ride.
After that sound repeats from her mouth for a bit.
She pokes at my hoodie side, prodding.
"What's up, Yoon-seul?"
"Here."
Looks like she spotted something she wants to see—time to stop. I pull the bike over.
"When did we get all the way out here?"
"Oppa brought us."
"True enough."
It's J High School. The school Kwon Su-young Unniee and Song Ji-ah attend.
Pretty far from home. Takes about twenty minutes by bike.
On the sports field, two classes are in the middle of PE.
There are two people who look like PE teachers, and the groups are split off to either side.
The teacher gives some explanation, and they all scatter.
Most of them are refugees fleeing to the shade.
I almost ended up a student here myself.
Yoon-seule stares silently at the school field for a long while before speaking up.
"Oppa."
"Yeah?"
"What school did Oppa go to?"
"The school Oppa went to?"
"Here?"
I didn't go to high school, and middle school is a bit farther from here.
She's just purely curious.
Yoon-seule has no idea I'm just a middle school grad.
"Nah, Oppa already forgot which school it was."
"Forgot?"
"Yeah."
She ponders my answer for a moment, then smooshes her face right into my back.
And in a muffled slur, she adds one line.
"Yoon-seul forgot kindergarten too."
"Same as Oppa, huh?"
"Yeah, exactly the same."
And just like that, the siblings bond over their forgetfulness.
We quietly take in the school scenery for a bit, then Yoon-seul says it's time to go.
Couldn't see super clearly from behind me, but she seemed to be watching the kids laughing and chatting with their friends.
Gotta send her to school when she's a little older.
I want to see her having fun with friends.
I pedal again, nice and easy.
Leaning against me, I feel her quietly mumbling against my skin.
- Being with Oppa is good enough.
I pretend not to hear and mumble back softly.
"Me too, being with you is good enough."
The wind mashes our voices together.
School, whatever.
Kindergarten, whatever.
It's not that important in life.
At least, that's how it's been after twenty-five years of living.
But relationships are different.
It's good to have at least one person—family or friend—you can open your heart to.
I park the bike at a park to take a break.
I help her down from the back seat, and Yoon-seule darts straight to a bench and plops down.
As always, she waves her hands up and down. "Oppa! Come here!"
Then, like something just occurred to her, her eyes sparkle, and she starts wiping down the bench seat with her ponytail.
"Oppa! Dusting!"
"Whoa now... Yoon-seul-ah, that'll get your hair all dirty."
"I'll wash it later. It's fine."
"Hmm...? Yeah, fair point."
We've been biking around plenty anyway.
Shower's the routine once we're home.
As I approach the bench, she pats the spot she cleaned with both hands.
"Yoon-seul cleaned it."
"Can sit there?"
"Yeah!"
"Want Oppa to clean a spot for Yoon-seul to sit?"
"Please do."
Her whole "just wash it" vibe has me feeling playful too. The kid energy is contagious.
I wipe down the bench with my hair.
My hair's relatively short, so I have to practically shove my head into the seat to make it work.
Swish-swish!
It's a weekday, so not many people around.
Lucky me. No one spots me this time.
"Yoon-seul, your seat's ready."
"Yeah!"
I struggle a bit but manage to perch on the bench.
That's when it happens.
Bzzz—
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
"What the...?"
There's a banner notification from the Tycoon app.
I swipe it aside and tap in.
[Dal-nim: lol]
I nearly let a curse slip out.
I calmly brush the dirt off my hair.
Plop—
Yoon-seule, sitting on the bench beside me, flops over limply.
She lays down with her knees as a pillow.
"Tired?"
"Nope."
"Just chilling for a bit?"
"Yeah."
My sister goes quiet.
She says it's just for a bit, but odds are she'll fall asleep. Last time those newlywed customers came to the shop, she said she'd just lie down on a chair for a sec and ended up conked out.
I stroke her head as she lies there.
Picking off the bits of dirt stuck here and there.
Sitting like this, that day from seven years ago comes back to me.
That's where I met that drunk uncle.
'Hey, kid over there. What're you doing out here at this hour?'
From the bench directly across, a man with a flushed face like he was wasted called out to me.
At first, I figured I'd ignore him.
No good ever comes from tangling with a drunk.
But there were a few things that caught my attention.
For someone plastered, he was dressed neatly in a dark gray suit.
Sure, it was wrinkled in spots, but even at a glance, it looked pricey.
His hair was slicked back neatly with wax.
His speech wasn't slurred, and he wasn't picking a fight.
Curiosity piqued.
I decided to chat with him to kill time.
'Uncle, what're you doing here?'
'Just sitting.'
'That's me too. Just sitting.'
'You a student? It's not even eleven yet.'
It was that ambiguous time of day.
Not really the hour for a high schooler—or some suit-wearing office worker—to be idly parked on a park bench.
'You an office worker or what, Uncle? It's only eleven.'
'Pfft, yeah, tell me about it. Not anymore, starting today.'
'Layoffs...?'
'Nah, that would've been better. Anyway, I answered. Not an office worker. You look like a high schooler—what're you doing here?'
'Not a high schooler either.'
'Oh yeah? Guess we're both just killing time with nowhere to be.'
'Something like that.'
That was my first encounter with Kang Pil-jung, the guy who runs the used bookstore.
We kept about three meters between us as we talked.
From the bench directly opposite on the park path.
He borrowed some liquid courage to vent.
Up until that morning, he'd been a deputy manager at hotshot K Corporation.
I decided to take him at his word.
But unbeknownst to him, his wife had been diagnosed with thyroid cancer.
He'd been swamped with work, pulling constant overtime and neglecting the family for ages.
And then, during one of those times he wasn't coming home, she broke the news to him over the phone.
'All that "busy" crap is just an excuse. If I'd just checked on her once when I was right there beside her.
Looked like a lump on her neck. If I'd said something, maybe they'd have caught it sooner.'
Middle-aged guy.
Holding back tears, spilling all that to me.
Part of me wondered why he'd open up like that to a total stranger here.
But maybe there are things you can only confess to someone you've just met.
Surgery had mostly cured her, but he hated himself for it, he said.
People get numb to their own symptoms sometimes.
That's why you need family keeping an eye out.
'Then why're you sitting here like this, Uncle?'
'On my way out after quitting the company. Can't calm down. Figured I'd have one drink, that's all.'
'Not what I meant.'
'What then.'
'You shouldn't be sitting here. Go be by your wife's side. Right now.'
'Quit my job and go see her in broad daylight, looking like some sorry drunk?
She told me she'd be fine anyway, to focus on work and not worry about her. Couldn't do it, so I quit.'
'Then go get chewed out.'
'By my wife?'
'Yeah. Go get chewed out. Tell her you're sorry for deciding on your own to quit and care for her now, even if it's late.'