A Small Goal
When I was little, I thought the world was a simple place.
That winners and losers were clearly decided. That if you held on with grit and passion and just kept trying, there was nothing you couldn't do.
That effort always brought its reward — and that I was the protagonist of that kind of world.
That wish I'd held with a heart that must have been nothing but pure… was it all just a delusion?
But by now, even that feeling is something I can only mock myself for. Just a foolish thing, nothing more. The kind of baseless fantasy every kid has, without a scrap of evidence to stand on. For the worn-down person I am now… there was nothing else left to do but call it that.
Back then — though it feels strange to say it myself — I think I shone. The kind of kid you could find anywhere: laughing easily, talking loudly, able to say out loud that he liked the things he liked. That was who I was as a child.
And the dream that childhood version of me chose was basketball.
There wasn't any deep reason. It just looked cool. That was all. The same way a kid watches a rocket launch and dreams of becoming an astronaut, or sees a magnificent building and wants to be an architect. I figure most people have one or two childhood dreams like that — vague wishes of I want to be like that someday.
In my case, the dream just lasted a little longer than most.
In elementary school, during the class where everyone shared their future hopes, I shot my hand straight up without a second's hesitation and declared, "I want to be a basketball player like Michael Jordan!"
I preferred the athletic field to the playground. I'd laugh and shout with my friends and play basketball until an orange curtain draped itself across the sky. It was pure joy.
…At least until middle school.
"Ball games with the kids again?"
My father never acknowledged that dream of mine, not even a little.
"Fine when you were in elementary school — you were just a little kid. But you're a middle schooler now. Shouldn't you be able to tell what's what? You're wearing a school uniform. Time to grow up. Quit it, Han Yu-seong. That worthless ball-playing nonsense."
Coming home caked in sweat and sand dust, only to meet that look of contempt and a mouthful of bitter words — that became my everyday routine.
It wasn't so much anger I felt as sadness. Sadness that my own family wouldn't recognize my dream. Sadness that the goal I'd been chasing all this time was being dismissed as something worthless.
I had to prove it. That I — that my dream — wasn't wrong. I had to produce results. Because I needed my father to acknowledge me.
I won't look back.
The more that thought took hold, the more obsessively I threw myself into basketball. But holding on to the simple joy of it became harder and harder. The moment even a trace of obligation mixed into that happiness like an impurity, it all soured so easily.
Even standing on a basketball court that used to fill me with nothing but delight just from running around on it—
…This isn't it.
I could no longer feel the things that had once come so naturally — the fun, the thrill, any of those bright emotions. I'd run the court, steal the ball, sink the shot, win the game… and still, before any joy of victory could rise, another thought always came first.
This is the bare minimum. This isn't enough. Father won't even glance my way for something this small.
"Hey… you've kind of changed, haven't you?"
"Shut up. If you've got time to talk, go practice more."
Back then, everything just felt hateful. I think I was just wound too tight. I couldn't think about anything except working hard, getting results, and earning my father's recognition.
And after that happened… even more so.
The summer of my third year of middle school — that season of stifling heat and the endless drone of cicadas.
An opportunity came.
…Without my even imagining what kind of outcome that opportunity would bring.
I'd poured myself into practice with a vicious, desperate edge, and by then I'd become the kind of player people on the team called the ace. Naturally the team kept winning, and at last we fought our way to the finals of the middle school basketball tournament.
The night before the championship game, I shouted it at my father for him to hear. That I was going to win this tournament fair and square. That when I came home carrying the first-place trophy, he had to acknowledge my dream of playing basketball.
But reality—
"This is — this is terrible!"
—was a wall far colder, far heavier, far higher than anything I had imagined.
"What just happened?! Han Yu-seong, who had been dominating the game with an overwhelming performance, has suddenly collapsed! Is it an injury?! An injury?! He doesn't look good at all!"
I had been running with my eyes fixed only forward. Why hadn't I understood that if you just keep running blindly like that, eventually you fall?
I knew my knee had been aching. Of course I did — it was my own body. But… just a little further. If I just stretched my hand a little further, I could have grabbed it. I had been sprinting desperately toward my dream. This was the chance to finally be rewarded for all the blood and sweat I'd poured in. I couldn't let that chance slip away.
Glory shimmering like a mirage at a distance where it seemed my fingers might just brush it — that was a liquor potent enough to drive a person mad.
"His knee is gone. Basketball is… well…"
But to me, collapsed in failure, reality said only this: You're finished.
That bastard called reality was laughing at me with a blank face.
With their starter out mid-game to injury, the team lost its center and couldn't find its rhythm. They gave up the lead and were eliminated from the tournament.
The knee can be fixed somehow. This is all I have. It can't end like this. I won't accept it. It can't be over yet. …That's what I thought. Because mine had been a life that started with basketball and ran desperately toward nothing else. If I lost even this… there would be nothing left of me at all.
But reality was not kind enough to hand a second chance to a loser who had already failed once.
"Heh. Serves you right. Always rubbed me the wrong way."
"Yeah — always trying to do everything himself. Why'd you hide the injury and blow the whole thing?"
"That's just the kind of guy he is. Wanted all the glory for himself. Thanks to him, we're done… bastard."
What came back to me were the freezing stares of the guys who had been… who used to be my teammates.
And then—
"I told you. Just study."
—nothing but my father's cold expression. The same blank face as always, saying he'd known it would turn out this way, expectations already discarded… no. He'd never held any expectations to begin with.
You've got talent, Han Yu-seong. Keep working and even a national championship isn't a dream!
Yu-seong, pass it here!
Forget it. You think that guy's gonna do it?
The words churned and crashed inside my head. And at the same time, I understood.
It was over.
It was all over.
The protagonist of my life wasn't me… and never could have been.
So then… what was left for me now?
(I… that Yu-seong…)
Somewhere in my mind, something went snap — the feeling of a thread being cut.
"Don't make me laugh!!"
The silver trophy I'd hurled away hit the floor with a tremendous crash and shattered into pieces that scattered across the ground.
"What the hell do you even know about me, Dad?!!"
A shard must have driven into my foot; blood welled up around my feet and pooled on the floor. But I felt no pain. More accurately — I couldn't feel it. Because more than any of that, I had no idea what to do with the emotion thrashing wildly inside my chest… so I just howled, screaming like some kind of animal.
People say a life is measured by what you've accomplished.
Then what am I?
I couldn't achieve my dream. Even being recognized was impossible. A life of failure, of lost connections, with nothing left at all.
In something like that — where exactly was I supposed to find salvation?
There was no one left who could answer me.
"…I haven't talked with my father since."
Following my mother's suggestion that some distance would be best, I left for this place far from home… no. I ran away. And after that, everything was literally dark. Telling myself a life of nothing but loss had no meaning, I gave up and drifted however I pleased.
"You know what? I wanted to be the protagonist."
I believed it. That reality was a decent guy. That if you believed in yourself and never gave up, there was no dream you couldn't reach. Looking only at the bright side, turning away from everything dark.
"But it wasn't. It just wasn't."
I was only a kid who'd wished it were so — thinking whatever was convenient. Reality is cold. Beneath the handful of victors called protagonists, there are countless losers called extras. If you work hard, your dreams will come true. You can succeed. Those sweet words are only permitted to the protagonists. Standing in front of that general rule, I thought I alone would be different — that the protagonist of my life was me.
I realized my place too late. That it had been arrogance. I should have understood much sooner.
My friends left. I wasn't acknowledged at home. I never achieved my dream. This hollow life stained with failure laughed at me, telling me I was no protagonist.
"…I'm not a good guy, you know. Not the way you think."
A guy who only knows how to talk like he's above it all. Who does he think he is, offering to help someone? You loser. Those stained words kept circling through my head until I felt like I might retch them up any second.
"I — I…"
Before I could get the word hate out, Seol-hwa — who had been listening to me in silence — spoke up. "Hey," she said, as if she refused to let me finish.
"Me? I used to hate the rain. When it rained, everyone else had parents or friends come meet them so they could walk together. But I never had that. I always had to walk through the rain alone. It was lonely and scary, and if I cried because the thunder frightened me, all I got was scolded for being a nuisance… All I could do was tell myself over and over that being alone was fine.
But after I met you, Yu-seong, that changed. I started to like the rain that brought me to you. Even the thunder that used to scare me… isn't scary when you're beside me. I started wanting to go to school, even the school I never wanted to set foot in. And so many other things… I became able to feel grateful just for being alive."
Seol-hwa pulled me into a tight embrace. As if she were trying to still the trembling in my body… as if she were telling me not to hurt so much. The feeling that rose in me then was surely, surely… just my imagination.
"You and I are different. Even if it weren't me to begin with—"
—there are plenty of people who could take my place.
That was the rebuttal I tried to make.
"If it isn't… if it isn't you, Yu-seong, I don't want it."
But Seol-hwa cut me off mid-sentence, and I truly couldn't say another word.
"I don't know if I have any right to say this, but… I think I understand. I was desperate too — desperate to be acknowledged by my father, by my family…"
"…You're wrong."
I cut her off and shook my head.
"I'm just reaping what I sowed. It's not something I get to show off about in front of someone who's been through real suffering like you."
It wasn't at the level of "I think I understand." It shouldn't be compared. She had lived through something far more brutal than anything like me. She was that kind of person. The type might look similar, but the depth was completely different. Comparing her pain to a story that was nothing but my own comeuppance was an insult from the start.
As I hung my head low, Seol-hwa's finger poked my forehead and tilted my face back up.
"If you keep saying things like that, I'm going to get mad too."
As I could only blink, Seol-hwa smiled softly.
"Hard is hard. It's all the same. It isn't different. You told me that yourself, didn't you? That being sad is natural. That being scared is natural. That if I felt like I was going to break, I should lean on you… I'm giving those exact words right back to you."
Having said that, Seol-hwa met my eyes.
This was the girl who normally, at even the slightest eye contact, would fluster and turn her head or look down. And yet here she was, holding my gaze without looking away — for the first time, at this close a distance, looking steadily into eyes that had always been veiled in a shadow of melancholy.
So this is how straight and true her eyes are… They were the kind of eyes that made you think that. Seol-hwa's eyes, looking only at me, clear and unwavering.
Seeing them, I understood. I could finally think it.
"…Thank you."
Being seen… it feels this good.
I don't know what kind of expression I was wearing. But Seol-hwa studied my face for a moment, then said gently, "Don't mention it," and smiled.
"All I do is take help… I'm such an idiot."
Maybe I'd wanted to comfort myself by helping this girl who'd lived a more painful life than mine. Maybe then I could have told myself my life hadn't been a complete waste. When I first held out my hand to Seol-hwa, I probably couldn't have sworn that thought wasn't there.
But somewhere along the way, I had been drawn in. By the stubborn way she refused to give up. By the gentle smile she could still offer others even while she was hurting.
I gave a bitter little laugh at myself for only ever receiving. And Seol-hwa answered, "What are you talking about, Yu-seong?"
"Everything I have, I received from you. Honestly, you probably don't even know. How much you saved me. How happy I was — how overjoyed — when you said we should be friends."
Seol-hwa took a small breath, then said carefully, "…Me too," and pressed her forehead gently against mine.
"I lean on you so much. I receive so much. So you do the same, Yu-seong. Otherwise I end up only taking, and that makes me uncomfortable too."
Those were the words I had always wished for. And at the same time—
(I… like that Yu-seong… that's why.)
—they were the words I feared the most.
"You won't leave, will you?"
I tightened my arms around Seol-hwa's body. As if pleading that this warmth, at least, please don't go.
"The place I belong — before and from now on — is here. That is… if that's all right with you, Yu-seong."
Hearing that, I answered quietly, "…Stay here." And she said, "Okay. I will."
We smiled at each other in silence, and after a while of just being there without words, Seol-hwa spoke.
"Tae-yang said once that people form bonds because they're connected… I think I understand what that means now."
"…Tae-yang. Seong Tae-yang? You were with him during the day, right?"
"It just kind of happened. He said friends are friends because they give and receive something from each other… That's how he put it."
"…I don't really get it," I muttered. And Seol-hwa answered, "Maybe it's enough to come to understand it as we go?"
"Failing means you tried that hard, doesn't it? Being sad about it can't be helped, but writing off all the time you spent fighting as completely meaningless… wouldn't that be a waste? Even if you didn't gain anything, it couldn't have been without meaning."
"Meaning… huh."
As I quietly repeated the word, Seol-hwa continued, smiling, "…To me."
"Yu-seong, you're more than enough of a wonderful protagonist. Whatever you do, as long as even someone like me is okay — I'll cheer for you. When you've worked hard, I want to tell you that you did well. I don't think I'm in any position to claim I can empathize or understand what you've been through… but the way you gave me a reason to keep living, I want to give that back to you.
So please… try not to hate yourself so much."
Hearing those words, I pulled Seol-hwa into my arms again with everything I had. Only this time carefully, so I wouldn't hurt her. So that the preciousness in my arms… wouldn't be wounded.
I couldn't hold back. My head was full of nothing but the wish to feel the warmth in my arms just a little more. And newly, somehow, from Seol-hwa's embrace came a scent that seemed to quiet the thing called a heart.
"I thought you and I… were different."
I had thought she was a protagonist precisely because she was this kind of person. Yun Seol-hwa was someone who shone — someone who had kept standing against a reality that offered her no help from anyone. And compared to her, a guy named Han Yu-seong was nothing but an extra who didn't even qualify as a supporting character — someone who'd lost to reality and simply run away.
I had believed my life was worthless and meaningless. Even calling Seol-hwa my friend, I couldn't say it with confidence in front of other people. I thought I didn't belong beside her. That our places were different. That unlike me, with my feet stuck in the ground, she was someone who would someday fly far, far away. So I made excuse after excuse and hesitated to move forward.
Because I was terrified that, just like before, I would be the only one who ended up hurt.
And yet that person was saying this to someone like me. That the protagonist of my life was me — no one other than me. So please let her stay by my side. Affirming with everything she had the life I had denied with everything I had.
(Even if you didn't gain anything, it couldn't have been without meaning.)
What does it mean to be like myself?
I had been searching and searching for the meaning of this thing called life. It had been a life of nothing but failing, being discarded, and running away… but I had found it.
A person who put others before herself, who could still smile foolishly even while doing the most absurd things, who had lived through so much pain. Yun Seol-hwa — who could live that kind of life and still say she'd support me when things got hard, who could call someone as worthless as me precious and smile.
I still don't really know what it means to be like myself.
But.
"You'll… stay beside me, right?"
If this person was here, I felt I could live in a way that was like myself. So even as I vowed that this time, even if she tried to leave, I wouldn't let go — I spoke in a voice that still couldn't shake the unease. And Seol-hwa smiled and said, "Of course."
"…Even if you say no, I won't let go. Just so you know."
Maybe it was from saying one cheesy line after another. Watching a faint flush begin to color Seol-hwa's cheeks, I found myself laughing without meaning to, and answered, "Please do exactly that."
"Our positions got completely reversed."
"…Did they?"
People say you can't live without a purpose. But for someone like me, who had been living with nothing of the sort, a goal had now appeared — small, but certain.
(To Seol-hwa, Yu-seong is someone precious. I hope he won't turn his eyes away from that fact.)
I want to treasure her. This person right in front of me — Yun Seol-hwa — who affirms the me I had denied. Not by pushing her forward from behind. Not as some kind of repayment. I want to walk beside her… together.
And somewhere along the way, a version of me who wished for that had come into being.
"Thank you."
Simple words, but I put a sure and certain feeling into them as I spoke.
And Seol-hwa answered with the brightest smile I had ever seen from her.
"I should be the one saying that."