A Late Apology
"Jeonghyeon, what's so funny?"
"Yeonjae is just too cute~. Oh, should I introduce Yeonjae? We didn't get any footage last time, did we?"
Actor Lee Jeonghyeon was trying to introduce me as a friend who'd helped with this shoot, and I couldn't decide whether to act like myself or keep playing Kim Suhan.
Figuring I should at least greet him, I dipped my head — but I was still tucked into Lee Jeonghyeon's arms, so the pose came out half-cocked and awkward.
When I didn't squirm out of his embrace, he glanced down at me with a grin and pulled me in even tighter.
"Nope, can't do it. You're too cute. I'm keeping you all to myself."
And so Lee Jeonghyeon carried me around the set, still wrapped in his arms.
I'd never been held like this by a grown man before, and the sheer size and warmth of him pressing against my back was awkward to the point of embarrassment. An-gae had told me none of my misfortune factors would transfer to anyone today, but there was no way I could feel comfortable being this close to another person.
...It is pretty soft in here, though.
The funny thing was, I was adapting. Again. Maybe humans really are creatures of habit after all.
Every time I unconsciously let my body relax, a low chuckle rumbled down from above me, which was a little mortifying.
As big as Lee Jeonghyeon was, there was no way I fit neatly in his arms. I ended up walking in a half-tangled stumble, and the staff watching us cackled and said I looked like a mother duck carrying her duckling.
With that, filming wrapped on the last of my scenes.
Miraculously, we finished without a single NG, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"Yeonjae! All your shots are done, right?"
"Yes."
"I've still got a bit left. Could you wait a little longer for me? There's something I want to give you."
What could Lee Jeonghyeon possibly have to give me?
I was puzzled, but I nodded obediently anyway, and he couldn't resist the chance to start poking at my cheeks before his manager dragged him off.
Teacher Sihyun, who'd been watching the whole thing with a smile, pointed to a chair in the corner and told me to have a seat there.
"Lee Jeonghyeon really seems to adore you, Yeonjae."
"...He does, doesn't he."
I wasn't entirely convinced, but I had nothing to say against it, so I agreed.
Why did he like me so much? If it were just a fondness for children, that would make sense — except I'm not exactly small enough to count as one.
At first I wondered if it was because of my Kim Suhan impression, but he actually seemed fonder of me when I was sitting still, doing nothing at all.
The more he looked at me with those I'm-going-insane-from-how-cute-you-are eyes, the more bewildered I became.
Well, he must have unusual taste, I guess.
It wasn't like there was anything I could do about it anyway.
I shuddered imagining myself actually saying something unhinged like, Sir, why do you like me so much? Could you stop finding me adorable now?
I just wanted to hurry up and get back to the orphanage.
"Wow... Lee Jeonghyeon really is an incredible actor. Isn't he, Yeonjae?"
"Yes, he's amazing."
Before us, Lee Jeonghyeon was clutching his sister's photograph, weeping in grief.
He crawled desperately along the floor, tears and snot streaming down his face — and yet somehow it never looked ugly. That was the remarkable part.
Even with the camera pushed right up against his face, he looked like a man thinking of nothing in the world except that his sister was dead.
Is this really the same guy who was messing with me five minutes ago?
I remembered how he'd kept kneading my cheeks and chattering on — "You're exactly like a chapssaltteok, Yeonjae. Want to do a rice cake café tour together sometime? I know a place in Garosu-gil that's seriously good — the owner always gives me extra when I show up."
That boyish, excited face was gone without a trace, replaced by a man who had lost his entire family and was drowning in despair.
My brain knew it was a marvel, being able to summon tears like that at will — but strangely, my body started to sink.
"Jihye! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, *sob*—"
The wailing of a man who'd lost his mind filled the entire set.
The crew who'd been snickering moments before were swallowed up by the gloom, and the air went heavy in an instant.
I watched him quietly, and my eyes landed on the woman in the photograph he was clutching — smiling brightly, caught mid-laugh.
"Ah, Jiwon... pull yourself together."
"It's my fault, Jihye. It's all my fault."
The actor playing Jiwon's friend tried to hold him back, but the tears kept spilling from eyes that had gone beyond reason.
Jiheon... my baby... Mommy's so sorry... so sorry...
A voice I should never have remembered at a time like that overlapped with the sound.
I jerked my head up in alarm, and the set swam back into focus — filming still ongoing.
The ornately decorated chrysanthemums kept pulling useless thoughts out of me.
"Oh my, what is that acting... How can anyone immerse themselves like that?"
"Yes, he's truly something else."
I did my best not to show the sinking feeling that kept dragging at me.
Teacher Sihyun, who'd been chatting with me on and off, studied me for a moment and then asked if I wanted to step outside for a quick walk.
I nodded immediately.
The moment we left the funeral hall, air that went past cool and straight into cold hit my face.
It took several long, deep breaths through my nose before my head cleared even a little.
My head hurts.
The throbbing ache actually eased in the cold wind, leaving me strangely refreshed. My body shivered and shook, but watching the fog clear from my brain, I felt like I might survive after all.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm fine."
There was no reason not to be.
To keep the stray thoughts at bay, I shook my head hard.
The walking path behind the funeral hall was deserted, not a soul in sight.
It was far too cold a day for a stroll.
But neither I nor Teacher Sihyun said a word about going back inside.
We'd been walking in silence for about five minutes when she called my name softly.
"Yeonjae."
"Yes?"
"Four years ago."
The words came out of nowhere, and I stopped walking before I even realized it.
Teacher Sihyun stopped with me and kept her gaze fixed straight ahead as she spoke, steadfast and unflinching.
"That day — it wasn't your fault."
"..."
"You weren't even there. I was the one on the outing. I was the one walking down that street. If you were going to pick who did something wrong, it was the crane operator. You had nothing to do with it."
I said nothing.
Whether the silence made her uncomfortable or whether it was simply too hard to bear, Teacher Sihyun shifted her weight, folding and unfolding her left leg as she talked.
My eyes followed the movement and dropped naturally to her leg.
A leg that walked strong and steady now, without the slightest limp.
But the steel pins were still in there, buried inside.
"I should have told you this clearly back then, not now... I'm sorry it took me so long."
Her mouth had gone dry — I could hear her swallowing again and again.
For some reason, my own breath was growing ragged.
"Last time, when the Myeong-u Group director came — you remember what you said, don't you? That it might be better to have Sanghoon do it instead."
What had I said back then? Something about how with Choi Sanghoon, there was less risk of an accident breaking out.
Granted, An-gae had told me in advance what was going to happen the next day, but I'd brought it up because there was no need to shoulder unnecessary risk. And having Teacher Sihyun in the room made it all the more necessary.
"I thought a lot about what you said. Talked it over with the Director, too."
"..."
"I hurt you, and I never properly apologized."
Over her quiet, measured voice, a scream rang out — the same one I'd heard four years ago.
'Director! Please, please get him out of here, hurry! *Sob* — I'm too scared!'
Four years ago — only a few months after my adoption had been dissolved and I'd been sent back to the orphanage.
Back then, I had refused everyone's outstretched hands, the Director's included, and shut myself in a corner of the room, spending my days alone.
I didn't just avoid being with the other kids — I insisted I wouldn't even touch the same objects they used, and the teachers suffered endlessly for it.
The ones who helped me step back out into the world were the Director and Teacher Sihyun.
There was a time I'd screamed at them — face soaked in tears, don't stay near me, get away from me, quickly!
The Director had held firm, wrapping her arms around me as I thrashed, and Teacher Sihyun had gently, carefully, wiped the tears from my eyes with her hand.
Yeonjae, it's okay. Nothing's going to happen. Don't worry.
I could still hear that tender whisper as if it were yesterday.
And I could hear the moment it warped — the instant that gentle voice became a scream, consumed entirely by terror.
'Y-Yeonjae. Sihyun — Teacher Sihyun's been hurt.'
The call from the hospital came while the Director and I were tending the vegetable garden.
I grabbed the Director's hand as she spiraled into panic, and we ran to the hospital together.
The moment we reached the emergency room, I saw her — Teacher Sihyun, screaming in agony.
She'd been walking down the street when concrete building material had suddenly rained down from the sky.
It had fallen from the construction site right beside the road; the cause was the crane operator's careless handling.
By a sheer miracle, nothing had threatened her life — but her left leg alone had been crushed beyond recognition.
I will never forget the scream Teacher Sihyun let out while they performed the reduction — forcing the broken bone back into alignment — before the real surgery could even begin.
Even utterly spent, drained to the last shred of strength, she had glared at me with eyes that would not stop dropping tears.
She screamed at me to get out, get her out of the room — and only then did the Director seem to realize that she was still gripping my hand, that she should have let go long ago.
"You were so little back then, I assumed you wouldn't remember any of it."
"..."
"None of it had anything to do with you. I just... I wasn't in my right mind, that day."
Her eyes, fixed on me, were brimming with feeling.
It was a look I'd received my whole life, so it was familiar — but coming from the Director, it felt foreign.
At the time, I had pretended nothing was wrong and quietly walked out of the room.
I made it a few steps on trembling legs before I collapsed, and it was only when I felt the cold asphalt under my palms that I realized my entire body had broken out in gooseflesh.
The leg Teacher Sihyun had injured was the very leg I'd been clinging to before we left for the outing that day.
"It's late, but I really am sor—"
"Teacher."
"...Yes?"
When I cut her off so abruptly, I heard her swallow hard beside me.
I pretended not to hear it and kept going.
"You and the Director are starting to sound more and more alike, you know."
For a moment, Teacher Sihyun's stiff, guarded face simply crumbled.
She turned to look at me slowly, utterly dumbfounded — and only after spotting the mischievous smile clinging to my lips did she burst out laughing.
"You are really... I don't know if that counts as a compliment, but thank you."
"It's absolutely a compliment."
"Haha. I'll have to tell the Director when we get back."
Even as she laughed, a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face — as if she wasn't sure she should let the moment pass like this.
So I smiled, to reassure her, and added:
"Don't worry about it, Teacher. It's all in the past anyway."
I felt her gaze travel over my face.
Only after confirming that I looked at ease did Teacher Sihyun finally let a natural smile settle onto her own.
"Should we pick up some fried chicken on the way in? We can eat it with the kids."
"Sounds great."
My chest twinged, sharp and sudden, again and again.
Part of me wanted to suffocate right there on that stinging ache and be done with it.
'You didn't need to apologize, Teacher.'
She would never know. Not ever.
I didn't need to ask An-gae to know.
That accident happened because my misfortune factors had transferred to her. There was no other explanation.
So in the end, it was my fault.
Teacher Sihyun's leg, Jiheon's death.
All of it — every last bit of it — was my fault.