The Grandmother's Collapse
Yeo-won set her phone down and let her forehead thunk against the desk. A sigh thick with irritation filled the room.
"There's always a reason people avoid certain things..."
This was the sixth round of revisions. Every single one was the kind of finicky, labor-intensive tweak that ate up hours.
Honestly, after the fourth request she'd been tempted to flip the whole project, but the balance in her bank account had flashed through her mind and she'd swallowed the urge.
For a freelancer, every job mattered. Especially during a dry spell like this one.
Company K was infamous for its endless claims and modifications, but as a large corporation, their rates were the highest in the industry.
Yeo-won steeled herself and downed the coffee that had gone cold on her desk in one gulp.
The bitterness made her frown deepen.
She poured herself another full cup from the pot she'd brewed earlier. Even if it didn't clear her head, the ritual had become so ingrained that she couldn't work without it.
Dark circles hung beneath her eyes after several nights of broken sleep. She'd always suffered from insomnia, but it had grown far worse lately.
Medication let her rest, yet the crushing headaches that followed the next day were so severe she avoided it whenever possible.
As she sat at her desk marking deadlines on the calendar, Yeo-won glanced at the date and murmured under her breath.
"...I suppose I should go down there."
It had already been eight years since she'd left Inwol.
The year she turned twenty, Yeo-won had come up to Seoul from that remote village. The moment she was accepted to university, she'd found a tiny goshiwon. When she arrived at the rundown place with its thirty-five hundred thousand won monthly rent and no deposit, she hadn't even unpacked before collapsing into sleep for three straight days.
Back in the house in Inwol, she'd never been able to let her guard down for a single moment. The atmosphere had always felt like walking on thin ice, suffocating her. That was when the insomnia had first taken root.
To Yeo-won, that cramped six-square-meter goshiwon had been the first truly hers space she'd ever known. The unfamiliar comfort had even made her wonder if she could simply stay in bed forever.
Only after forcing herself up despite a pounding headache had her grandfather's words come back to her. She'd wondered why he'd said such a thing, but the hectic pace of city life soon buried the thought.
At any rate, money had been the problem.
Unlike her friends who had family to lean on, Yeo-won had nothing. There was a grandmother, but she could hardly rely on her.
Well, it's not as if I ever expected anything from her.
After her grandfather passed, the distance between her and Grandmother had grown even more arid. Grandmother treated Yeo-won like a ghost, speaking only the bare minimum and never sharing meals.
When Yeo-won returned from school, a solitary meal would be waiting on the table. The phrase "raising her out of sheer obligation" fit perfectly.
Even when she'd announced she was leaving for Seoul, Grandmother's expression hadn't changed. She'd simply said, "Do as you like," and that was the end of it.
The voice Yeo-won heard after so long was still utterly flat.
Even so, she didn't resent or hate her grandmother.
She never starved me or abused me. For that alone, I should be grateful.
Determined to earn money, Yeo-won had joined what was considered the best company in the industry right after graduation. She'd worked diligently, producing results worthy of recognition despite the brutal hours and harsh words from her superiors. But in her third year, she'd made the decision to quit.
The endless overtime and her boss's cutting remarks hadn't bothered her. What she couldn't endure were the things only she could see.
In the hallways. In the restrooms. Even in the cafeteria.
The company was so overrun with them that every place her eyes touched seemed infested.
Yeo-won had prided herself on having grown somewhat immune, until the day she saw a woman clinging to the back of a new employee and promptly fainted.
That woman... she was covered in blood. Her bones were twisted at unnatural angles, as if she'd been in a terrible car accident...
Yeo-won shook her head. Just remembering it made her stomach churn.
She hadn't asked what happened. She hadn't wanted to know.
But she couldn't face that sight every day, so she'd ultimately chosen to resign.
Afterward, she'd turned to freelancing. The pay wasn't generous, but being able to see fewer of those things had made her life far more bearable.
Yeo-won, seated once more, rolled her stiff neck and opened her email. At that moment, her phone began vibrating again beside her.
Assuming it was the client, she glanced at the screen with little interest, only to frown at the familiar number.
The words "Hometown" glowed clearly on the display.
Yet Grandmother had never once called her first.
Yeo-won pressed down the unease rising in her chest and answered.
"Hello?"
Seconds after picking up, Yeo-won shot up from her chair. She pulled out the large bag stored in her closet, stuffed it with whatever her hands grabbed first, and rushed out of the apartment.
All the way to the bus stop, her face was twisted with anxiety and restlessness. Once aboard the bus, she chewed her nails while checking the terminal schedule.
The call had been about Grandmother collapsing.
*
"Aigoo. I really thought my heart was going to stop."
Fortunately, by the time Yeo-won was on her way down to Inwol, Grandmother had regained consciousness.
Yun Grandmother, who had been watching over her, rose as soon as Yeo-won arrived, saying she would head home now.
Yeo-won followed her out to the gate to see her off.
Yun Grandmother, who lived next door, kept patting her chest and repeating the same story.
She'd come by to share some sweet potatoes. When no one answered the doorbell, she'd opened the door. She'd only meant to leave the potatoes in the entryway, but then she'd seen Grandmother collapsed in the living room and grabbed the phone.
In Inwol, almost no one locked their doors. Most believed thieves wouldn't travel all the way to such a remote village, and the tight bonds between neighbors made it unnecessary.
As a child, Yeo-won had found the adults who barged in without knocking annoying, but in this moment she was grateful for that very custom.
"Ah, I was so startled I didn't even think of calling 119. There was some number written next to the phone, so I dialed it. It was such a relief that you answered, Yeo-won."
"Thank you so much."
"There, there. I'll bring some porridge tomorrow, so stay close by your grandmother today. You must have been startled too. Get some proper rest."
Yeo-won bowed deeply at the gate. Yun Grandmother waved her hand lightly and disappeared into the house next door.
Yeo-won remained outside until she could no longer see her, then went back in.
When she entered the main room, Grandmother was sitting propped against the wall, staring blankly out the window. Through the wide-open panes, a full moon hung in the sky. Despite the beautiful sight, Grandmother's eyes were hollow.
Even when Yeo-won approached, Grandmother didn't stir.
Accustomed to this, Yeo-won slowly studied her profile. Her cheeks were sunken, the skin beneath her eyes drooping and bruised. Her body was so thin it seemed there was nothing left but skin and bone.
"...If you weren't feeling well, you could have contacted me."
The words came out sharper than she'd intended. Grandmother's condition was truly alarming.
"..."
Grandmother offered no reply, continuing to stare outside.
"We'll go to the hospital tomorrow. I'll make the appointment."
It was less a question than a statement. Normally this would have earned a scolding or at least some reaction, but Grandmother simply kept gazing out the window.
It wasn't mere quiet. She wasn't deliberately ignoring her; it felt as though her soul had left her body, leaving only silence behind.
"Grandmother..."
Yeo-won considered speaking once more out of worry but swallowed the words.
Grandmother must have been badly frightened. This was the first time she'd collapsed like this; she probably needed time to collect herself.
"...Get some sleep. I'll be in the next room. Call me if you need anything."
After saying goodbye, Yeo-won left for the kitchen. Her throat was parched, so she opened the refrigerator, but there was no boiled water.
There was a water purifier, but Grandmother always insisted on drinking water that had been boiled from a mountain spring.
Yeo-won used to think it remarkable, watching her climb the mountain every morning.
Had her body grown so weak lately that she could no longer manage even that?
Yet she hadn't sent a single call.
As Yeo-won filled a glass from the purifier, a hollow laugh escaped her.
"Did you hate me that much..."
Still, they were the last blood relatives left in this world. No matter how much Grandmother despised her, Yeo-won could not bring herself to hate the woman who had raised her.
She'd hoped Grandmother might lean on her a little, but perhaps that had been too great a wish.
With that bitter smile fading, Yeo-won returned to her room.
She opened her laptop and resumed the work she'd left unfinished. Now that the tension had eased, her body felt exhausted, but she doubted sleep would come even if she lay down.
Through the gap in the open window came the call of a night owl. The sound grew louder, grating on her nerves, so she reached out to close it.
Just before shutting the window completely, she caught a glimmer of something sparkling within the darkness that had swallowed Mount Inwol.
"...?"
Was someone climbing the mountain at this hour?
She narrowed her eyes and looked again, but Mount Inwol was perfectly still, as if nothing had been there at all.
"Must have been my imagination."
Dismissing it, Yeo-won closed the window.
*
The next morning, Yeo-won straightened her hunched back after sleeping at her desk. Only two hours had passed since she'd dozed off.
She let out a long yawn and headed from the main hall toward the inner room.
Cracking the door open, she saw with relief that Grandmother was asleep. Moving on tiptoe, she slipped inside and closed the windows.
When she'd checked in the early dawn, Grandmother had still been awake. Though it was spring, the night breeze was cold, so Yeo-won had tried to close them. For the first time, Grandmother had reacted.
She'd only shaken her head slowly, but Yeo-won had felt secretly relieved. She'd worried that the lack of response meant a head injury, but it seemed that wasn't the case.
Before closing the windows, she turned up the boiler temperature a little more. Fortunately, Grandmother didn't wake even after the windows were fully shut.
Yeo-won pulled the slightly disheveled blanket up to her feet and was about to leave when Grandmother stirred.
"Old man..."
The hoarse, locked voice made Yeo-won freeze.
Her expression darkened in an instant, but her hands kept straightening the blanket.
She left the room on tiptoe just as she'd entered and quietly closed the door.
For a moment she leaned against it, then slid down to sit in the main hall.
When she looked up at the sky, the weather was hazy. Gray clouds gathered. The whole world looked dark and heavy, as if it might pour rain at any moment.
Yeo-won hated rainy days. When it rained, those things appeared more clearly.
She drew her knees together and buried her face between them.
"This time... it would be good if they took me with them..."
With the small murmur, a self-mocking smile curved Yeo-won's lips.
She already knew too well that those left behind suffered more than those who had departed.