A Story That Becomes a Nightmare for Someone -6-
Mikhail was a child born into an unplanned moment in time. Conceived by a famous dancer in the empire and the second son of a family that strictly upheld social status, he arrived at a point when no one wanted him. The man had no standing in his family, and the woman had a child just when she was deeply in love with her profession as a dancer.
Mikhail's mother began to struggle with her dancing career as her belly swelled. Pregnancy was like poison to a job that demanded graceful, beautiful lines. Wanting to preserve her honor as a dancer, she chose retirement, while Mikhail's father abandoned her and vanished.
A commoner dancer had no options. Even if she bore an unwanted fruit, the world wasn't kind enough to listen to a mere commoner's tale. Though their relationship had started from love, it ended in a bitter wound that left only hatred behind. Thus, what awaited Mikhail, who hadn't even seen the light of day, was nothing but resentment and loathing.
The woman hated the child in her womb. She believed this child had ruined her life—her lover had fled, her career as a dancer was gone, and her pathetic, shattered existence was all because of the baby inside her. So Mikhail's mother hated him even before he was born.
"Waa... waa..."
"Shut up for a sec."
"Waa... waa..."
"I said shut it! Stop bawling all the damn time and just shut up...!"
By the time Mikhail's ears could properly hear, the first words he understood were his mother's harsh curses. He learned vulgar commands to close his mouth—"shut up"—faster than he learned the word "mommy."
"Shup... up..."
"...Huh?"
"Shup up!"
"What did you just say?!"
Until he was two, Mikhail thought his name was "Shut Up." That's what his mom said every time he called for her when he was hungry. Still, he loved his mom. She always got angry and irritated, but she was the only one in the world on his side.
He waited for his mom when she came home drunk. He'd never stepped foot outside the locked room, but to him, she was his entire world, so Mikhail loved his mom. And he especially loved her when she came back drunk. On those nights, she'd hug him tight and whisper, "Mommy's sorry."
Four years passed like that. Mikhail's world began to expand a little. His mom started talking to him and holding his hand for walks.
Their walk was always the same route. They'd buy candy from a familiar shop and stand blankly staring at an empty alley where no one passed.
"Mommy, why do you always stare here?"
"..."
"Mommy?"
His mom would grip his candy-eating hand tight, sigh deeply, and turn back. It was the same routine every time, but Mikhail loved the moments he got to go outside with her. Truly.
His mom started working. No longer dancing for nobles, she became a waitress carrying food in an adventurer's tavern. She drank more often, and nights she didn't come home grew frequent. When she did return, she'd see him sleeping and let out a deep sigh. He could never forget her muttering, "I shouldn't hate him anymore..."
One day, a strange man came to the house. Introducing himself as his dad, he looked about five years older than his mom. Her face lit up when she saw him, and she told Mikhail to call the man "Daddy." He liked watching the man buy him toys and laugh with his mom. Of course, he wasn't the real dad.
Mikhail knew right away this man wasn't his father. Call it instinct. He just felt it.
Three years passed. By the time the number of "daddies" exceeded ten, his mom came home with a stiff expression.
"I'm home."
"Mommy!"
"..."
"Mommy?"
"...Oh, yeah?"
She'd come home lost in deep thought, but smiled brightly at the sight of him. She used to hate him a lot, but now she only disliked him a little. Mikhail grinned back at her smile.
"You worked hard!"
"Yeah."
She sat facing him without even wiping off her makeup. No alcohol smell—why was she being so nice? Full of questions, he asked.
"Did you drink a lot?"
"No. Not today."
"Wow...!"
She stroked his head and pulled him into a hug. Feeling her warm embrace, he stared at her with wide eyes.
Blink. Blink.
She whispered softly while petting him.
"Baby."
"Yes!"
"Does baby like Mommy?"
"Yes!"
"Good... Then, baby wants Mommy to be happy, right?"
"Yes! If Mommy's happy, I'm happy too."
"Yeah..."
For the first time, his mom bought him a doll. Sober, not drunk—a big bear doll. Not a toy from one of the "uncles," but a gift from his mom. He loved it.
"Whoaaa!"
"Birthday present."
"Really?!"
"Yeah."
Every time she saw him happy, she'd give a bitter smile. Back then, he didn't understand her smile or the deep worries in her heart.
At night, he'd hug the bear doll tight and fall asleep. It smelled like his mom's strong perfume, making him feel like she was holding him.
A day passed. Two days. A week. Then his mom took his hand for a walk—farther than usual. The carriage seemed headed somewhere they couldn't return from. She just stroked his head silently, smiling.
"Mommy. Where we going?"
"..."
"On a trip?"
"Yeah."
"Whoaaa! To the sea?"
"The sea... Yeah."
She stroked his head wordlessly as the carriage rolled on endlessly. The closer they got, the more excited he got, snorting with anticipation. His heart raced at the thought of seeing the sea from books.
"Mommy been to the sea?"
"No."
"Oh..."
Her face grew stiffer the nearer they got to the sea.
Screech.
The carriage stopped in an unfamiliar place. No blue fairy-tale sea in sight. Just a filthy bridge with sewage flowing under it, and across it, ramshackle houses ready to collapse. Clutching his bear doll tight, he looked up at his mom. He was scared.
The kids across the bridge peeking at him creepily, the rats scurrying by—they terrified him. And the ominous feeling he'd never see his mom again made him hug the bear tighter.
She knelt down, stroked his tear-streaked cheek, and smiled gently.
"Baby, Mommy has some business. Can you wait here just a bit?"
He shook his head. Snot running, nose sniffling, he clung to her, refusing to let go.
She gripped his hand tight.
"Mommy will definitely come back."
"..."
"Promise. For real."
"Promise?"
"Yeah."
"Come back in thirteen?"
"Yeah. Mommy'll bring your real daddy for our girl. Just wait a sec."
He stuck out his pinky.
"Promise...!"
She hooked her pinky with his and smiled.
"Promise."
He ran after her as she walked away—something he needed to ask one last time.
"Mooommmmyyy!"
His short legs tripped him up, blood trickling from his nose, but he brushed it off bravely. She hated crying, and she'd promised—she'd come back.
He grabbed her skirt without wiping the blood.
"Mommy."
She turned. She was crying. Tears for the first time in front of him.
He said to her.
"Why you crying? You said no presents if you cry."
"No. Mommy didn't cry. But why'd you come after Mommy? I said I'd be quick."
"'Cause...!"
He fidgeted with his fingers and said.
"What's my name?"
"..."
"You call me, but what if I don't know?"
She bit her lip and bowed her head.
"Come to think of it, I never named you..."
She paused, then spoke in a watery voice.
"Misa."
"...Huh?"
"Misa. That's your name."
"Misa!"
"Yeah. Misa."
Hearing his name, he smiled, released her skirt, and waved vigorously.
"Bye, Mommy!"
"..."
"Mommy! Bye!"
"..."
Mommy never came back.
He waited. Folding his fingers—"one day, two days, three days"—enduring the endless nightmare.
Under the bridge where they'd promised, ears perked, he waited endlessly, but she never came.
Strangers reached out to help, but he'd bite their hands hard and flee to hide, over and over.
A day passed. Two days. Three. As dark certainty filled his heart, he cried himself to sleep.
"Mommy'll be there when I wake up."
Rain poured that day. Cold. Dark. He hated the bear doll soaked in it. Body freezing, forehead burning, he slowly lifted his heavy eyelids.
"Mommy..."
"..."
"Mommy..."
"Not Mommy."
A kid stood before him holding a cardboard box. The grubby-faced boy poked his cheek and said,
"For real..."
"..."
"This is some fated encounter, right?"
"...Mommy?"
"Not Mommy, not Daddy either... Hmm."
The boy grinned.
"Guess that makes me big bro?"
Raindrops fell from his red hair, sliding down his smile to the ground.
"Nice to meet ya."
"..."
"I'm Lee Min-hyuk."
That was the first meeting between Mikhail and the red-haired boy.