Chapter 83
Chapter 83
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: Even Farther Away (5)
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"Joo-hee?"
"Yeah, it's Joo-hee."
There, right in front of her eyes, stood her young daughter, perfectly at ease.
Seeing that face twisted her heart with a pang of sorrow.
But she couldn't figure out why.
Her daughter Joo-hee, dressed in her school uniform.
It seemed like a weekday today.
An Soon-yeon had to go to work, and Lee Joo-hee had to go to school.
That was their endless daily routine.
"Joo-hee, how about staying home with Mom today?"
"...Suddenly?"
"Yeah, I just don't feel like going to work today."
"Really? Is that okay?"
"Mom's the boss, after all. Whether we open or not is up to the boss."
"Tch, you should've done this ages ago!"
Her daughter's playful grin.
That "ages ago" dug right into her chest.
But An Soon-yeon just smiled along with a casual "Yeah, you're right."
Thus began an unprecedented day of rebellion.
She spent the whole day with her daughter.
A day that felt unusually short.
The hours spent tending to the bubbling pots of soft tofu stew on the stove, dodging splatters of broth—they always dragged on endlessly.
But time with Lee Joo-hee flew by.
She cleaned her daughter's ears with an ear pick.
They sat side by side listening to the radio.
She asked what poetry collections her daughter liked.
She listened to what happened at school yesterday.
They filled the day with little things like that.
It was the most meaningful day of all.
Just as her daughter had said, she should have done this much sooner.
A day doesn't last forever.
Deep down, An Soon-yeon knew it.
Once this day ended, it would all be over—and there wasn't much time left.
"Mom! I'm hungry."
"Oh? Time for dinner, then."
"Make soft tofu stew."
"...You like it that much?"
"Yeah, out of everything you make, that's my favorite."
"We eat it all the time."
"That's why I like it even more."
No mother in the world could refuse a daughter giggling and asking for it.
In the end, the usual routine.
She made soft tofu stew again.
Her knife skills were sharp as ever, but she chopped the green onions and minced the garlic a bit more slowly.
She wanted to savor watching her daughter beside her, eyes fixed on the cooking.
She even added potatoes to the soft tofu stew, though she never did before.
They took longer to cook.
But soft tofu stew finishes eventually.
She couldn't burn it to a crisp just because her daughter wanted it.
She turned off the flame and set it on the table.
"Let's eat, Joo-hee."
"Okay! Itadakimasu!"
Her daughter scooped the steaming soft tofu into a side dish plate and blew on it furiously.
Such an impatient personality.
She shoveled a big spoonful toward her mouth, but jerked back the moment it touched her lips.
"Hot!"
"It was just boiling a second ago—of course it's hot. Be careful."
"I know, I know."
They really do take after their mothers.
Her own daughter acted just like Yoon-seul.
Even her granddaughter flinched like that when she tried shoving hot food into her mouth too soon.
....
Wait, Yoon-seul? Who was that again?
Her memories felt jumbled.
"Mom, what got into you today, closing shop? You used to open even in rain or wind."
"Just felt like it today."
"Just felt like it? That doesn't sound like you. You're not the moody type like me."
"Who do you think you got that from? Mom can be moody sometimes too."
"Fair enough."
What wind blew her to close the shop today?
She needed to make money.
To raise her daughter without lacking anything.
She didn't have the luxury for this.
Why had she closed up?
The answer to that question was crystal clear.
There was one thing she desperately wanted to say.
And time was rUnnieng out.
The rice in her daughter's bowl was dwindling away.
Who did she take after, being so hasty?
Either way, An Soon-yeon knew once that bowl emptied, the illusion would end for good.
This was a dream world conjured up as a reward for a lifetime of making soft tofu stew.
Once the bowl was empty, the dream would vanish.
So if she wanted to say it, it had to be now.
The words she'd kept bottled up forever—words she had no right to say.
Words from a mother who hadn't been much of one.
A question she absolutely had to ask.
"Joo-hee."
"Yeah?"
"What do you want to be in your next life?"
"There's no such thing as a next life."
"You never know."
"I know. There isn't."
"Mom doesn't. So think about it. What would you be in your next life?"
"I'd write poetry. Next life or this one, same thing."
"...Really? Same as now, huh."
Hearing that put her at ease.
"Mom wants to live a little differently."
"Why? Are you unhappy now?"
"No."
"Then why?"
"I should have spent more time with you."
"...What? Out of nowhere."
"I should've taken you more places. Eaten more meals together. Asked how many friends you have. How school's going. What poems you like. Why you like them. If you have a boyfriend or not. When that mole under your ear appeared. How many poems you've sent to the seven o'clock radio. I should've learned more about you. Put work aside more."
"..."
Her daughter smiled.
Silently.
"So, Mom's going to change. Just grant me this one request. Be born again once more, as my daughter. Joo-hee."
Her daughter smiled.
Silently.
"I'll make even tastier things. Stay by your side longer."
Silently.
"If you do something bad, I'll scold you, tell you not to. I'll cheer on your dreams from right beside you."
Her daughter smiled.
Without a word.
"Just be my daughter one more time. In your next life."
Was the answer to that plea yes?
Or no?
Just as her silent daughter opened her mouth to murmur something, time was up.
Her bowl had emptied without her realizing.
The illusion was over.
In the end, An Soon-yeon never heard Joo-hee's reply.
**
"Huh? Why's Hammonee crying?"
Her granddaughter, now awake, peered into An Soon-yeon's face. That smooth, childish worry only made her heart ache more.
"Ahem! What crying? This is just soju splash."
She rubbed her cheek, making excuses.
"Hmm? That's not it."
"Have you ever seen Grandma lie?"
"Yoon-seul, come here. Woke up from your nap so soon?"
"Yeah! I was pwaying with Oppa."
The quick-witted older grandson scooped up Yoon-seul.
An Soon-yeon couldn't pinpoint why she was drowning in such intense emotions.
But her heart felt lighter.
It seemed her older grandson had gotten skilled enough to stir the heart with his cooking.
Song Ju-hyeon hugged Yoon-seul close, sniffing her hair.
Maybe from the soju, his eyes looked a bit glazed.
"Oppa, Oppa."
"Yeah?"
"Oppa forgot something."
"What did Oppa forget?"
"You didn't wash Yoon-seul's hair today."
"Oh."
"This morning, you rushed out saying you were busy and didn't wash it."
"You're right. Oppa forgot and sniffed Yoon-seul's hair anyway?"
"Yeah, Oppa did."
"But even unwashed, Yoon-seul's hair isn't dirty at all, so Oppa'll just keep sniffing."
Sniff sniff.
Sniff sniff.
"Hee hee... it tickles."
Watching her grandchildren tangle cutely together brought peace to An Soon-yeon's heart.
Then Song Ju-hyeon seemed to remember something he'd overlooked, twitching his eyebrow.
"Grandma, hold on a sec."
"Yeah?"
He set Yoon-seul down and headed to his suitcase.
Zip—
He rummaged deep inside, pulling out a rectangular book.
He brought it over to An Soon-yeon.
"What's this?"
"A poetry collection."
She knew it.
But the problem was the poet's name on it.
[Yoon-seul]
[Lee Joo-hee Poetry Collection]
Her daughter.
Mother of Song Ju-hyeon and Jang Yoon-seul.
It was her poetry book.
An Soon-yeon hadn't expected her grandson to bring this.
They'd never had a good relationship. Hardly family—more a source of pain and resentment.
Yet here he was with it.
"Oh... I found it by chance. Thought Grandma would like it. So I brought it."
Earlier, at Kang Pil-jung's used bookstore.
He'd spotted it and put it back.
Honestly, not something he particularly wanted to dwell on.
But he went out of his way to grab it and carry it all the way to Gangneung for a reason.
"Wanna check the table of contents?"
At his urging, she opened the poetry collection.
Titles lined up in the contents.
Familiar and unfamiliar words amid them.
One grabbed her eye.
[Mom]
"..."
She swallowed dryly and flipped pages frantically.
No other words from other poems registered.
Her daughter's poetry collection.
She'd never once thought to look inside.
Before her daughter died, it was all about the grandkids.
After, she feared getting swept up in emotions.
And so on.
She'd made excuses to avoid it.
But now that her grandson brought it, she couldn't turn away.
Because no one had more right to despise this book than Song Ju-hyeon.
Mom.
The poem titled with those two letters was just two lines.
Gave birth to a son
Even when he catches a cold, he still looks for Mom
Looks for Mom.
Those two phrases hooked into her heart like a fishhook.
"Kid... geez."
It reeled her in.
"Why does this keep..."
Something kept spilling down her face.
The world's edges blurred softly.
"Getting old... makes you so sappy."
It fell.
Drop drop.
"Damn it."
She couldn't grasp her daughter's inner world from two lines.
But those two phrases.
"Daughter looks for Mom"—that was her daughter's own words.
Written in her own sentence, in her own collection, her own work.
That's why it hit so hard.
So I was that kind of mom—at least worth turning back to once, worth thinking of when sick.
That's what she came to accept in her heart.
"Grandma!"
Her granddaughter spotted it.
No more hiding now.
An Soon-yeon, decades her senior, caught crying by her granddaughter.
Pathetic.
Short, skinny arms wrapped around the slumped An Soon-yeon's head.
Her granddaughter's arms.
"Don't cwy, Hammonee."
"Not crying. What would I be crying about?"
"Yoon-seul not fooled. Hammonee cwyin'."
That tiny, fragile hand stroked An Soon-yeon's dry, coarse hair.
"Yoon-seul get stwonger and pwotect Hammonee. So don't cwy. Can't pwotect yet 'cause Yoon-seul still baby. But when Yoon-seul big as Oppa, pwotect Oppa and Hammonee both. So hold on till then!"
Her fingers were like tender sprouts, yet she spouted such words—An Soon-yeon couldn't help but smile.
She seemed braver than before.
Living with her older brother had made her more mature than her peers.
Song Ju-hyeon glanced around awkwardly before enveloping them both in a hug. As the biggest, his embrace felt spacious.
And as if reading even others' feelings perfectly.
He spoke with a deep smile.
"Looks like Grandma's daughter really loved her. When I get a cold, I only want the one person I can rely on. So sneaky."
"...Yeah, tell me about it."
She couldn't be more grateful that her grandson had brought that poetry book all the way here.