What Was Needed
What was needed.
"E-excuse me…"
"I already told you, you don't have to be so formal."
Even as she stepped through the front door, Seolhwa moved as stiffly as a wooden doll — a sight I was gradually growing used to.
When I beckoned her over, she shuffled toward me with hesitant little steps.
"Were you nervous?"
"…I think so."
Seolhwa was already an introvert by nature. Maybe she was attaching far too much meaning to the simple act of coming over to someone else's house.
She had been like this the entire way here. I had told her more than once that she didn't need to be so tense, but perhaps that was asking too much.
"Last time you just passed out and slept the whole way through, didn't you?"
Something about her drooping posture stirred a mischievous impulse in me, and I needled her just a little.
The result was an instantly flustered Seolhwa, stammering, "Th-that was an accident — force majeure, really…!"
I simply watched her with open amusement until she finally caught on that I was teasing her. Her voice turned a touch sulky.
"…You're mean."
"Is that the kind of person you are, Yuseong-ssi? The playful type…"
"Dunno. I've never really thought of myself that way."
What I almost said was something like, Well, you're just so easy to tease that I can't help myself — but even Seolhwa might have pouted or gotten genuinely upset at that, so I held my tongue.
I played it cool and tried to usher her toward the living room, but—
"Um, so…"
"…You don't even have to say it." I pressed my fingers to my brow without a word.
If she was struggling to find a place to put her feet, I could already imagine why.
I had never been on speaking terms with housework of any kind, cleaning included. The living room was so thoroughly buried under clutter that calling it a dump would have been the kinder description.
It looked like a snowdrift of chaos had settled over everything. Even Seolhwa couldn't find anything to say — she just stared. Left with nothing, I scratched the back of my head.
"I should clean at some point… yeah."
Too much hassle. I'll just do it all at once next time.
That half-baked mindset, putting it off again and again, was how things had gotten this bad. Every so often I'd steel myself with a firm resolve to clean — and that would be the end of it.
Faced with a spectacle so overwhelming I couldn't even tell where to start, any motivation I had would evaporate on the spot…
I could only regret, privately, that I hadn't taken my mother's occasional advice more seriously: "If you just do a little bit often, it's fine~"
I was standing there sighing at the hopelessness of it all when Seolhwa rolled up her sleeves and started snatching books and magazines off the floor with surprising speed.
"…What are you doing?" I asked. She tilted her head at me instead.
"Weren't we going to clean?"
"Forget it. I'll handle it. You go rest in the room — you're not even feeling well."
I tried to stop her, but Seolhwa shook her head firmly.
"This much is fine. More than anything, I'm in your deb— I mean, that is, well… anyway! We-we're living together, aren't we? I'd feel more uncomfortable just sitting around by myself."
The way she hastily corrected herself mid-word was almost endearing. She clearly wasn't going to back down, so I had no choice but to nod.
And so the cleaning began—
"It's easier if you clear out the bulky things first. Sorting by type helps too. Do you have any empty boxes I could use?"
"Clothes need to be folded properly — it cuts down the volume and keeps them from wrinkling, so they're easier to put away. Separate the ones you wear often from the ones you don't."
"There's usually more dust on the ceiling and in the corners of furniture than on the walls."
…Thanks to Seolhwa's unexpectedly formidable cleaning prowess, everything proceeded with startling efficiency.
Like a well-oiled machine, really.
The house that had been little better than a pigsty was visibly transforming before my eyes. I nearly let out a gasp of admiration without meaning to.
And so the two-hour epic finally came to an end.
"Whew… thanks to your help, we finished quickly."
How on earth had past-me managed to trash a place this thoroughly?
…The house looked so spotless I couldn't even find the words.
…Was my place always this big?
The thought slipped out unbidden.
If I'd been alone, I would have puttered around for a few minutes — maybe a few dozen — before giving up entirely. I was sure of that. Not that it was anything to brag about.
"…You've got a real knack for this, huh."
I tossed out the observation while looking at the floor, which seemed to be radiating a sparkling effect from the mere fact of Seolhwa's help.
It was late, so we couldn't use anything noisy like a vacuum or a washing machine.
Even so, clothes were in the wardrobe, books on the shelves, odds and ends neatly stowed in drawers.
Turning a house that had been the very epicenter of chaos — where the things that should have been ordinary simply weren't — into something this clean… with my limited vocabulary, that was about the best I could manage.
Looking at the floors and windows, cleaned with nothing but a broom and a rag, I couldn't even begin to imagine where I'd start making a mess again.
Come to think of it, maybe that makes sense…?
Even in that old shack of hers, for all its age and wear, I didn't remember ever getting the sense that it was dirty.
For someone who kept a place like that tidy, this must have been easy… In a whole different way, she was starting to look pretty incredible.
"Is that… so? I only ever learned from books and things like that…"
The person who had actually accomplished this feat somehow looked uncertain about it.
"It is. Even my mother couldn't pull this off."
She did drop by sometimes, scolding me the whole while as she cleaned my room before leaving.
But she had never been particularly skilled at housework herself… The two of us would thrash around at it together and still only manage temporary fixes, and before long everything would revert to its original state. That was the usual pattern.
"Come to think of it… do you live alone, Yuseong-ssi?"
"As you can see."
I answered Seolhwa's question with a light shrug. If someone else had been living here, I couldn't have brought her home in the first place.
"For someone living alone, the place seems awfully spacious."
"My mother's a busybody."
I'd told her that since I was living alone, a cramped studio would have been fine — but according to her, living alone was exactly why I needed a nice place.
She'd gone and stuck me in this roomy apartment on the grounds that it would be good for bringing friends over.
Of course, the only things that ever came to this unnecessarily large home were door-to-door salespeople and flyers — never friends — so I'd always considered it a blatant waste…
I never thought it'd come in handy like this, though.
Everything has its uses, I supposed. That was what I told myself.
Thanks to it, Seolhwa could be here. I figured I ought to count that as a win.
"Um…"
"What is it?"
I must have zoned out thinking about my mother.
Seolhwa's voice pulled me back. I shook my head a few times and answered.
"Would it be all right if I asked what kind of person she is? Your mother."
"A busybody."
I had rummaged through the fridge and the cupboards, but the barley tea had run out last time. All that came out were things like cola and sports drinks.
Still, better than plain water, I figured. I poured one of each into cups and brought them over.
Seolhwa picked up the cup with the sports drink and asked carefully, so I answered with a sigh that came out on its own.
"She's a good person, but from the receiving end it's complicated in all kinds of ways. Whether you call it overprotectiveness or just an unusually intense kind of parental love."
It felt wrong to say this as her son, but she was… not a little, but a lot, a thoroughly exhausting type of person in many respects.
"…Still. I'm envious."
Seolhwa answered my grumbling with a bitter little smile.
"Yeah, I guess you would be."
But for all my complaining, I couldn't deny that her exhausting nature had helped me more times than I could count.
It must have been the talk of mothers. The way she wilted looked so pitiful that I started blaming myself for not choosing my words better, fishing around for something comforting to say — but Seolhwa spoke first.
"Then what about your father…"
"…That's for another time. I don't really want to talk about it."
I cut her off mid-sentence and drained the cola from my mug in one go.
The carbonation stung my throat. Unfortunately, it did nothing to push back the unpleasantness of having that man cross my mind.
"…I asked something I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."
Anyone who wasn't a complete fool would pick up on at least that much from a reaction like mine.
Seolhwa bowed her head apologetically, and I waved a hand to tell her it wasn't necessary.
"Do you… not get along?"
"It's not that we don't get along, exactly… How do I put it. We're pointed in different directions. Him and me."
Oil and water, you could say.
My father — that man — had always been like a wall to me.
Something solid that blocked the path whenever I tried to move forward.
"…You're not going to ask anything else?"
When nothing more came, I asked. Seolhwa gave a faint smile.
"Would you prefer I didn't?"
"…Of course not."
She's a quick study, I thought, and dipped my head slightly in thanks.
"Thank you," I said. Seolhwa answered, "Don't mention it."
I was stretching to work the stiffness out of my body when a comically loud gurgle reached my ears. I turned my head sideways without a word.
"Th-that's…"
Sure enough, what filled my vision was Seolhwa burying her face in a nearby cushion, head bowed low, trembling faintly.
The sliver of cheek I could see was distinctly red. Was she embarrassed?
"Well, of course you'd be hungry. We haven't even had dinner."
"U-uuuh…"
It was already nearly midnight.
She had been bustling around cleaning on an empty stomach, so it stood to reason — though Seolhwa herself didn't seem to see it that way.
"Here. Catch."
Partly to change the mood, I pulled a bundle of papers from the newly organized bookshelf and tossed it to her.
"Eh — whoa…?!"
Startled by the sudden move, she flailed and somehow managed to catch it, then let out a breath of relief. I stared at her, dumbfounded.
"You could've just picked it up off the floor."
"You said 'catch,' so… I thought I wasn't supposed to drop it."
…She really did have an oddly literal streak, this one.
"Anyway, what is this…?"
"Delivery menus."
I answered flatly as Seolhwa peered at the flyers she'd caught, looking puzzled.
"We're too tired from cleaning to cook anything, I don't have the skills for it anyway, and there's no ingredients."
"I-I don't have any money…"
"I'm paying. Think of it as a reward for all that cleaning."
"Th-that's just something I should have done…! I'm already imposing by staying here — if I let you feed me on top of that…"
"Being in someone's debt once or twice — what's the difference?"
I was getting used to brushing off Seolhwa's negativity. I answered without much thought and flopped onto the sofa.
Had this couch always been so comfortable? I couldn't help thinking I should have cleaned sooner.
"Besides, when I order for one there's always leftovers. Don't stress about it so much."
Delivery food these days was a racket — portions too big for one person paired with prices that made you wince.
Even after I said that, Seolhwa still looked thoroughly hesitant.
But a second rumble from her stomach finally breached those sturdy walls of negativity. Cheeks burning again, she ducked her head and began studying the flyers in silence.
"But… it's pretty late. Will they still deliver?"
"The ones I gave you all run late-night service, so we're fine."
These days a delivery app made ordering easy enough, but most of those places either tasted mediocre or charged absurd prices just for having a brand name.
If you looked around the neighborhood, there were still quietly good spots that were cheaper and tastier than the rest — the kind of hidden gems that hadn't registered with the apps, or simply chose not to.
And phone orders had unexpected perks that dry internet checkouts didn't: sometimes they'd throw in something extra as a courtesy. In this one area, at least, I stuck to the analog approach.
"I'll have this one."
After a long stretch of staring intently at the flyers, Seolhwa pointed to a combination pizza where you could pick two flavors and toppings.
"Huh. Surprising. I figured you'd pick the cheapest thing out of guilt."
"…I was going to, but then I got the feeling you'd scold me and say I didn't need to worry about it…"
"Oh, look at you learning."
"Was that actually it?!"
"Normally plenty of people would go for the expensive option precisely because someone else is paying."
When I said that, Seolhwa ducked her head. "Still, there's such a thing as decency…"
I sighed and gave her forehead a light poke with my finger. "You don't have to sweat every little thing like that."
She rubbed her forehead. "I… suppose so…?"
"That's right," I said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"First time having delivery food?"
"…Do you have psychic powers or something?" Seolhwa's eyes went round, as if to ask how I'd known.
…Well. Given the way she'd been treated at home.
It simply hadn't occurred to me that she would ever have had the chance to try something like delivery food.
"Look forward to it. Waiting is part of the charm."
I threw in a light joke to steer the conversation elsewhere, and Seolhwa offered a faint smile. "I'll do my best to look forward to it."
Twenty minutes, thirty… Waiting for a pizza that might or might not arrive before the day was out, I started yawning — and Seolhwa seemed to be in the same boat.
"Getting sleepy after all?"
When I turned toward her, her eyes were already half-closed.
I told her she could sleep if she wanted, but she shook her head, insisting she was in the middle of looking forward to it and would tough it out.
"Come to think of it, do you order this kind of thing often, Yuseong-ssi?"
"I've got zero talent for cooking."
I wasn't completely inedible at it, but with skills like mine I never felt any urge to take the initiative and make something.
At least my mother sent enough living expenses that I could eat properly — she was always telling me to take care of myself that way. In that regard, I had to be honestly grateful.
"Still, no matter how many times I look at it, I can't get used to this."
We hadn't even used a vacuum, and it still looked like this.
I let the observation slip with fresh admiration at the clean house I was nowhere near adjusting to. Seolhwa lowered her head, her expression darkening.
"Even so, at home I…" She was starting to bow her head again when I said, simply, "You did well." Seolhwa jerked upright in surprise.
"…What?"
"I said you did well."
I cut her off before she could finish and rested my hand on her head, ruffling her hair lightly.
Seolhwa just blinked up at me, looking completely lost.
"Is this… something I'm allowed to be praised for?"
That uncertain look earlier — this must have been why.
In a household that never acknowledged her no matter how hard she tried, hanging her head with that expression had probably become routine.
The thought of it was so sad that a heavy feeling settled over me.
"And why wouldn't it be?" Maybe that was why my tone came out a little sharper.
"This isn't nothing to me. If I'd been doing it alone, I wouldn't have managed even a quarter of this before giving up."
"But…"
"This is the treatment you deserve. Get used to it."
She'd probably never heard praise before, so in a way her reaction was only natural.
I let out a long breath. "I can tell you as many times as you need." At that, Seolhwa — who had been floundering — finally brightened. "…Thank you."
She doesn't need to get full of herself, but it wouldn't hurt if she rated herself a little higher.
While I was thinking that, the doorbell rang, cutting through the heavy atmosphere.
"Wow…!"
Seolhwa was staring at the pizza boxes laid out on the table with her eyes sparkling, like a kid looking at a toy display.
I laughed without meaning to, and only then did she come back to herself — ducking her head again, face thoroughly cooked through.
"Well, first time seeing it. That kind of reaction makes sense."
Food like this was designed with photos and reviews in mind, so they put real effort into how it looked. A reaction like hers was only natural — especially for a first-timer.
I told her she didn't need to be so embarrassed, gently, and started unwrapping the rest of the packaging.
"Thank you for the food."
She even pressed her palms together so politely that I found myself mirroring the gesture without thinking.
"…It's delicious!"
"Well, yeah."
Watching Seolhwa chew her pizza while staring in fascination at the stretching cheese, I couldn't help thinking she looked a bit like a hamster nibbling on seeds. Probably just my imagination.
"…Uh, did I do something wrong?"
"Why would you think that? I was just thinking you eat in a really cute way."
I had been resting my chin in my hand, watching her with open fondness, when she apparently took it the wrong way and asked with a worried look. I waved her off and started on my own pizza.
"You eat so cleanly, too."
With this kind of greasy food, keeping your surroundings clean was usually the harder part.
Whether it was skill or excessive caution… she managed to eat without spilling a drop or getting anything on her face. I let out a small sound of admiration, and Seolhwa gave a weak smile.
"…Because I'd get scolded."
"Scolded? I thought your father didn't even pay attention to you." I asked, puzzled. Seolhwa shook her head.
"From my brothers…"
"Come to think of it, you mentioned having about two of them."
"Things like how I was lowering the family's standing, or how I couldn't even do something that basic… I got mocked so often that I probably started being overly careful about it."
"Your household really does leave a person speechless in every possible way."
I knocked back some cider to wash down the bitter taste of the conversation, but once again the carbonation was no help at all.
"I wanted to be acknowledged. By my brothers, and by my father."
"…I think I get it." When I said that, Seolhwa turned to look at me, surprised.
"Have you had that kind of experience too, Yuseong-ssi?"
"I don't know… It's all in the past."
To Seolhwa's carefully worded question, I just let out a breath.
I leaned back limply against the chair and stared up at the ceiling as I spoke.
…I hadn't wanted to dredge up old history at all.
All of it was full of things I didn't want to think about.
"Sorry. You told me things that were hard to say without holding anything back."
Trying to put it off with another "next time" left me with a strange pang of conscience, and the words wouldn't come out right.
Unable to look at her straight on, I offered an apology. Seolhwa answered, "I just wanted to. It's okay."
"Is recognition something people need?" I broke the brief silence that had fallen.
"…I don't really know. It was vague, like a dream — I just thought it would be nice if things were like that. Telling myself it was all I had…"
"All you had, huh."
"In the end, I never managed it, though."
When I glanced over, Seolhwa's face was clouded over.
Like a sky heavy with dark clouds, her expression looked ready to break into rain at any moment.
Having no choice but to cling to other people's recognition. That was a truly painful way to live.
How hollow a life was when you couldn't believe in yourself and could only beg for it from others… I knew that down to my bones.
"If you need it… if even someone like me is okay, I'll give you as much as you want."
At the very least, I didn't want her to feel that way.
"…What?"
"You cleaned really well, didn't you?"
"Th-that's just something I should—"
"Besides that. How polite you are. How you've kept facing all kinds of hardship head-on. How even so, you always think of other people first."
She simply hadn't received any of it until now.
"I can't say I know you all that well yet. But I do think you're more than worthy of praise. So if even just words are enough… I'll say it as many times as you need. Cheer up."
I scratched at a cheek that had gone warm from saying something so embarrassing.
At that, Seolhwa looked like she might cry at any second — and yet her expression carried a soft smile, as if the storm clouds had parted.
"…Thank you."
"Just say the word if you need it. Anytime." I rested my chin in my hand and watched her, quietly pleased.
"I hope you get to make that face more often."
"…I'll try."
When she said that, Seolhwa scratched at her flushed cheek, looking bashful — but for once, she didn't drop her head the way she always did.
Instead, awkward but bright… she showed me something that was unmistakably a real smile.