Chapter 88
Chapter 88
Glancing at the camcorder, the PD spoke again.
“Don’t overthink it. Just try saying the things you’ve always wanted to say to your mom.”
The PD was suggesting that Han-gyeol film a video letter, just like Hee-yeon had. Ha, are they seriously doing this to a kid right now? Bom trembled with indignation.
It seemed they had come here with a specific scene already mapped out in their heads. It was a common format, one that even Bom—who didn't enjoy those kinds of programs—was familiar with.
‘I can see it now.’
The broadcast sequence unfolded in her mind.
Before Lee Hee-yeon took the stage for her competition song, her backstory would play. It would be framed as a dramatic reunion with her long-lost son.
The video letter to her son would flash on the screen, followed by shots of the school grounds and Han-gyeol shedding tears.
Then, the screen would cut back to the stage as Lee Hee-yeon sang, and the judges would likely ask something like, “Who were you thinking of while you sang?”
Nine times out of ten, she would answer that she was thinking of her son, and the show would broadcast the emotional reactions of the celebrity panels to draw empathy from the viewers.
After that, the stage would open up behind a teary-eyed Lee Hee-yeon, and Han-gyeol would make his entrance...
It would be a relief if it ended there, but if it became a hot topic on the internet, things could get even worse.
“Now, student? Just like your mom did earlier, speak with plenty of emotion. Can you lift your head up? Don't hide that handsome face.”
Now that she knew Han-gyeol wanted to meet his mother, Bom couldn't stop him. However, she hated the idea of Han-gyeol being sacrificed as mere entertainment fodder for the media.
“Wait a moment.”
Bom stepped forward. Only then did Han-gyeol take his hands away from his face and look up. Their eyes met for a brief second.
‘You were crying, Han-gyeol.’
The areas around his damp eyes were red. A lump formed in Bom’s throat, and a surge of heat rose from deep within her. She spoke with a stern expression.
“I’m speaking as his homeroom teacher and as an adult who cares for Han-gyeol.”
“What now? Teacher Bom, you’re always such a buzzkill! It was just getting touching!”
She ignored the clueless Department Head’s comment.
“He must be in a state of shock, yet you’re asking him to send a video letter right this second? Isn't that incredibly inconsiderate? Seon Han-gyeol needs time to think. You should give him at least a day. He also needs time to go home and consult with his current guardian.”
The PD and the writer’s expressions soured. This time, they didn't even bother to hide it, exchanging looks with each other. Their attitudes were thick with annoyance.
“Well, this is...”
The writer managed a strained, awkward smile.
“That would be nice, but we have to head back up to Seoul now.”
“Then send an invitation from the station later or something.”
At Bom’s firm stance, the PD made a thinking gesture before offering a suggestion to Han-gyeol.
“Hmm, student. Then why don't you just come with us? You should be there to cheer for your mom’s performance. You can film the video letter at the station.”
“You mean... I should meet my mom directly at the stage?”
In that short time, Han-gyeol’s emotions had settled significantly, and he had returned to his usual self. He tilted his head to look at Bom. The hollows under his eyes made his exhaustion painfully apparent.
‘No. Don’t go, Han-gyeol.’
Bom pressed her lips together so hard her chin wrinkled, screaming the words internally. She didn't want to leave Han-gyeol to these people who ignored the fact that he was a minor and kept pushing him for the sake of their broadcast.
“Excuse me, I said Han-gyeol needs time to think. That’s enough. Please leave.”
“What do you want to do, student?”
“I...”
Everyone in the conference room was focused on Han-gyeol. In the momentary silence, the Department Head swallowed hard.
“I want to see it. My mom’s stage.”
“That’s it! Good choice.”
Bom went numb. She hadn't expected Han-gyeol to agree to appear so easily.
“Um, but...”
Trailing off, Han-gyeol stood up, his chair screeching against the floor.
“I have to go home now. I have an important promise to keep with my uncle.”
⋆★⋆
Stopping at a red light at the intersection, Bom turned her head. Han-gyeol, sitting in the passenger seat, was staring out the window with his elbow propped on the frame and his chin resting in his hand.
“Um, Han-gyeol...”
Han-gyeol turned toward Bom. His face was expressionless, as if he were deep in thought. He likely hadn't recovered from the shock yet. Bom spoke as gently as possible.
“You’re going to tell your uncle later, right?”
“Ah. About meeting those people tomorrow?”
Earlier in the school conference room, Han-gyeol had stood up, saying he had to make takoyaki with his uncle, and made an appointment to film the video letter at the Rodeo in town tomorrow.
The fact that Seok Gwan-su, who had finally been reached, listened to Bom’s request and refused to allow filming inside the school was another reason they were able to postpone it.
[Well, the camera director and the rest of the crew are leaving Busan tomorrow anyway... It shouldn't be a problem to stay here for a night.]
Bom was currently driving Han-gyeol toward Jae-gyu’s house in Hin-suni. As soon as he had gotten in, Han-gyeol unbuttoned his school shirt and loosened his tie, remaining lost in thought. Was he thinking about his mother?
“Yeah. Talk it over with Uncle Jae-gyu today and think about it some more. If you feel like you can’t film it, just tell them that’s how it is. If it’s awkward for you to say, I can tell them for you.”
He was still young, so he might not realize the repercussions this could have. But thanks to her own mother, Bom had known the terrifying power of broadcasting since she was a child.
A single word spoken carelessly could drive a person into a corner, and a person caught briefly on camera could become a sensation and rise to stardom overnight.
Since Han-gyeol was objectively striking, she felt even more uneasy. He was usually overshadowed when he was with Jae-gyu, but his height—in the mid-180s—was by no means common. Combined with his proportions and frame, his physical presence alone commanded attention wherever he went.
Though his vibe was different from Jae-gyu’s, his neat and clean features had a unique, refreshing quality. Even in class photos, Han-gyeol looked like he belonged to a different art style; he was bound to be incredibly photogenic.
Perhaps she was worrying too much. But Bom couldn't shake the feeling of unease.
To be honest, even if Han-gyeol met Lee Hee-yeon, she hoped he would give up on the broadcast appearance. She didn't want him to get hurt anymore.
“Uncle will probably give me permission.”
Just as she was about to say more, the light changed. They arrived at Jae-gyu’s house in no time. Jae-gyu was waving his hand in front of the garage.
“Good work today.”
“Why did you come all the way out here?”
“You say that, but I know you like being met at the door. Come on, let’s go in. Han-gyeol, you go in and change, then come to the kitchen.”
Han-gyeol went inside first. Bom grabbed Jae-gyu’s arm with both hands as he tried to follow.
“Wait a second, Jae-gyu.”
She decided it would be best to tell him what had happened after their phone call earlier. He was bound to be at least a little shocked.
“Han-gyeol will tell you later, but... he’s filming a video letter tomorrow. He might even go up to Seoul with the broadcast people.”
“And Han-gyeol agreed to that himself?”
“...Yes.”
“Then that’s that.”
Why is he giving up so easily? Bom stomped her feet in frustration.
She wanted to do something for him, just as Jae-gyu had created a reliable atmosphere to turn the tide when her mother visited. But she felt a sense of helplessness at the fact that despite her efforts today, she had ultimately accomplished nothing.
“Talk to Han-gyeol properly later.”
She tried to persuade him again, her voice tinged with upset. Of course, for now, it was just a reunion on a broadcast, but Lee Hee-yeon had already expressed her desire to Jae-gyu to live with Han-gyeol in Seoul.
“That woman isn't a mother to Han-gyeol. She doesn't have the right.”
She was a selfish person who only thought of herself. To think she would shake up a child who had only recently managed to find his footing.
“She abandoned Han-gyeol. You kept contacting her, but she ignored you and held out! Han-gyeol is only meeting her because he doesn't know that.”
“If I tell him everything... how do you think Han-gyeol will feel?”
Bom turned Jae-gyu around as he tried to avoid her gaze and took his hands in hers.
“Han-gyeol is all grown up. He’s not a little kid. Have a heart-to-heart with him. Don't just act like everything is fine.”
“...Don't worry too much. Once Hee-yeon actually meets her own son, she won't act that thoughtlessly.”
She wasn't getting through to him. Eventually, the two of them went into the house in silence and headed for the kitchen. The dining table was already perfectly prepared.
On the wide ceramic table sat a takoyaki machine, a container of batter, and prepared ingredients. The udon noodles to go with it and a bowl of fruit punch looked quite impressive.
It wasn't exactly the right atmosphere to enjoy something like this... but thinking of the effort Jae-gyu had put in, Bom sat down at the table. Soon, Han-gyeol came down, having changed into a sweatshirt.
The three of them sat quietly around the takoyaki machine and began making the octopus balls.
“You have to grease it generously with butter like this so they don't stick. I messed up earlier and almost died trying to wash the pan.”
Han-gyeol calmly stirred the thin batter. Bom couldn't understand why Jae-gyu was insisting on making takoyaki in a situation like this.