Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: There's No Such Thing as a Beastly Woman
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......
Mom really was a scary woman.
Not only did she openly declare her obsessive, borderline psychotic love for a minor right in front of the whole family, but even after he kicked her off and bolted to the army, she tracked him down to his actual unit, grabbed his pant leg, clung to it, and bawled her eyes out.
Hard to say if this was Mom's issue or if Dad was just some enigmatic alpha with unexpected charm.
"Oh, right. You'll be hearing some good news soon, sweetie."
"??"
"Mom's been tossing out the condoms since yesterday."
"Wait, what do you even... Oh."
I was about to snap at her for saying something like that to her daughter when I suddenly remembered how I'd been bugging Mom lately about making me a little sibling.
She's finally doing it!
They'd been playing it safe with rubber barriers all this time, and now the factory's finally firing up!
"I want a little sister who looks like you, Mom."
"What about a little brother who takes after Dad?"
"Eww, he'd better not talk back to his big sis, or I'll set him straight! Ahem!"
"You're ruthless."
Any little brother born late is doomed to toughen up, wise up, and grow some manners anyway.
If he's jealous, he should've been born before me!
"Anyway, should we head inside now? Mom's probably cooled off by this point."
"Yeah, maybe. Oh, right, sweetie. Is there really nothing you want for your actual birthday?"
"A sibling."
"Even the soonest you'd see one is next year."
True that~
Plus, while Mom's pregnant, Dad and I will have to take extra good care of her, no overdoing it...
"There's seriously nothing I want."
Hard to believe this is coming from an eight-year-old, but right now, there really isn't.
I mean, unless it's the killer crypto that'll pop off in a few years, but I'm not some gaming addict who'd thunderstrike the house for it. Lately, I've been hanging out more with Jeongu and Yuri in Dodong anyway.
"And more than anything, on my birthday, it's you and Dad who deserve the celebration."
"Huh? Why? It's your day."
In a way, yeah. It's a milestone marking another year survived unscathed... but doesn't that also make it a day for parents to celebrate their daughter still kicking, healthy as ever after all that labor pain?
Dad tilted his head curiously at my words as we got up from the bench and headed home.
I flashed him a big grin and laid out my thoughts plain and simple.
"It's the anniversary of having such a pretty girl by your side, healthy all year long. Of course Mom and Dad, who worked so hard raising and caring for me, should be the ones celebrated!"
"Whoa......"
Caught off guard by my answer, Dad let out a short gasp of admiration, then ruffled my hair with a bittersweet smile—half proud, half something else.
His hand was a bit rough but big, sturdy, and warm as it gently stroked my head.
Normally it'd feel comforting and nice, but...
How to put it? There was this inexplicable bittersweetness to it.
"Sometimes... you feel more grown-up than your mom and dad."
"Huh? Me?"
"Yeah. You've got some deep thoughts. At your age, we were bawling our heads off, demanding this toy or that snack, begging for meat dishes."
Hmm, isn't that normal for eight-year-olds? Picky eaters who love meat over veggies, sweets and greasy stuff over anything earthy, bitter, or complex.
Me? Mom's cooking's so good I eat anything, but sure.
Plus, kids that age prioritize their feelings over reading the room.
But me too... yeah, I still pitch a fit when I'm happy or mad, even if I glance at others first.
Beats me~
"Isn't being grown-up a good thing?"
Yeah, being mature means less worry for my parents, more trust, right?
"Sure, it's good, but personally, I'd rather my little girl stayed a kid a bit longer."
"??"
"Grow up too fast, and it'll feel like you never needed anything from us before you're gone. Your mom won't show it, but deep down, she wants to pile up memories with you."
"...... Hmm."
Is that so?
Come to think of it... she never says it, but every time we head out to play, Mom wears that same odd smile Dad does.
Memories, huh...
I could kinda get it in my head, but not feel it in my heart.
My previous family was so distant... I always preferred playing outside alone. Dad's words hit a bit hard to grasp.
Maybe that's why—since I couldn't reply right away and just shut my mouth, Dad burst out laughing.
"You're still young, so it's hard to get what Dad means, huh? Well... you'll figure it all out when you grow up."
"...... Yeah."
From a daughter's view, thrilled by my parents' love and wanting to give back just as much, it stung a little that I couldn't grasp his words. I nodded with a faint, wry smile of my own.
Regret. Frustration. Love. Expectations.
A tangled mess of stuffy, ticklish, restless feelings gnawing at my chest.
In the midst of all that...
It would take more time before I truly understood Dad's wish on the way home.
A few days later... early morning, still before Mom and Dad woke up.
A little girl stood on a chair by the gas stove, stirring the bubbling pot with a ladle.
The sink held a greasy frying pan and spatula tossed aside.
I'd done some solo living before, so basic seaweed soup was no sweat. But too basic wouldn't cut it for a special day like this, right?
Slurp.
"Mmm~ Needs something... Oh, a bit of tuna sauce!"
I scooped a spoonful, tasted the blandness, dumped in two spoons of tuna sauce straight, and stirred briskly with my small hands.
Oysters Grandpa helped me shuck last night after I snuck some out, boiled to perfection in the soup.
Soak seaweed and oysters, stir-fry 'em in sesame oil, dump into the pot with water, boil hard... done, right? But...
I added soy sauce for soup, tuna sauce, a dash of MSG—layering flavors bit by bit.
These little touches, simmered long, make the seaweed soup sing.
Yeah. Turn the heat low now and do the dishes.
Gotta set the table before Mom and Dad wake up.
Flame down, lid half-on, I head to the sink, grab the scrubber with small hands, lather up, and scrub the pan and spatula squeaky clean.
Any grease left means Mom has to wash again—no way!
Dishes done, I pull fermented cabbage kimchi and radish kimchi from the fridge, plate the microwaved mackerel—now picking out bones with chopsticks, separating flesh neatly.
Fish is fun to pick at, but all filleted is easier for everyone.
Kimchi, radish... fish on the table. Back to the pot for a taste test... yep! Perfect!
A touch salty... deep, briny ocean flavor, just right.
Sesame oil gives it this nutty richness—might polish off the whole pot if I'm not careful.
Three soup bowls out, even scoops of seaweed and oysters... oh, extra oysters for Dad—he needs the stamina every night!
Rice from the cooker into bowls.
Finally, spoons and chopsticks from the holder on each spot, water glasses... done!!
A simple, humble breakfast spread. But isn't that what mornings are?
Way better than greasy meats or fried stuff bloating you first thing—warm, heartfelt basics win~
"Mmm... what's that smell? Oh? Yuna?"
"Whoa~ why does it smell so good? Man, mouth's watering."
"Ah! Mom! Dad!"
Glance at the clock: 6:30.
They get up early too.
I'd been up since 4 prepping, a bit beat, but seeing them gawk in shock and melt over my handiwork? All fatigue vanishes.
"D-Did our little girl make all this? But it's your birthday—why...?"
"Smell that. Any guy who marries Yuna later is one lucky dude."
"Eww."
Marry a guy? That's a bit...
I've adapted to girl life okay, but dating a dude, holding hands, kissing, then grabbing more than hands and... thrusting? Nope.
Better single forever or rubbing up with a girl!
"Forget marriage—sit and eat before it gets cold!"
"Right, right. Honey, our girl's served breakfast—don't cry, come sit."
"Yeah...... Thanks, sweetie. I'll savor it."
A modest birthday meal, but infused with someone's care and warmth.
If you can sit across from loved ones, chatting and laughing... isn't that birthday enough?
I still didn't get Dad's words from days ago or that smile they shared... but this feels like a happy family memory, right?