Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Three Lives (3)
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After returning to the past, Jin-hyuk heard murmurs from the beings behind the black curtain every night in his dreams. Someone from behind the curtain had spoken to him. He couldn't recall when or where, but one line was crystal clear in this moment.
Those were his words.
Was it a reward for a life that had been sad and lonely without any fateful encounters? The thought crossed his mind, but dwelling on questions wouldn't solve anything. More importantly, there was a pressing issue right now.
'Three... from death.'
With a harsh scrape, Jin-hyuk shoved his chair back and bolted to the back of the classroom. He checked the calendar, comparing dates with his tiny, fern-like hands as he sifted through his memories. Childhood memories were always distant, but now they were no longer hazy.
'It's today, isn't it?'
It really was today. In his previous life, the day his parents died. That's why, around the end of next summer vacation, he'd been dragged by his maternal aunt—his mom's half-sister—to transfer to a school in the township. Without even saying goodbye to his friends at this small rural school.
'I have to save Mom and Dad first!'
He still didn't know who the third life was. But one thing was certain.
Two of the three were his parents. His parents were supposed to die today. No—they had died today. But not on this day. Not anymore. What could a kid who now knew the truth do about it?
Jin-hyuk's mind spun as swiftly as it had in his previous life.
The fragmented soul of Jin-hyuk settled wholly into his nine-year-old body.
And the biggest influence on Jin-hyuk's life had been his parents.
Mounds of beans piled up in the yard.
Jin-hyuk's parents, Son Gwang-yeon and Han Yu-young, were threshing beans in the yard. It was one of the routine farm tasks at the end of October. They ran the dry beanstalks through the thresher and used a winnowing fan to blow away the pods and dust.
"It's amazing how someone who only studied in Seoul knows farming so well. You surprise me every time."
Han Yu-young smiled as she stirred the beans by hand. The blue tarp spread on the dirt ground was worn, with threads fraying here and there, but her heart was full of joy. Why wouldn't it be? Just a month ago, the middleman had offered to buy the entire field at double last year's price.
Yet her husband, Son Gwang-yeon, turned it down and decided to sell directly at the township market. He'd found out they could get triple the price from the wholesalers there. How could Han Yu-young not be in a good mood?
"Haha, I wouldn't say I know it all. I just decide based on the market each time."
Son Gwang-yeon stayed informed about the world and knew how to grow his money, turning their modest possessions—wrapped in a cloth bundle—into a fortune over ten years.
Their household had prospered, but whenever money came in, Son Gwang-yeon bought more land.
This area had undergone large-scale reclamation projects, filling the sea with land. The salt made rice farming impossible for over a decade—no bountiful harvests, not even average yields. The only crops that grew were peanuts or sweet potatoes, and even those were so poor that not starving was a blessing.
Even farmers who said land was everything ignored the dry, barren sandy soil and hills. Thanks to that, the village saying went: "You can't cross Du-nae-ri without stepping on Son Gwang-yeon's land."
"Next year, we should buy a rice transplanter. Combines are expensive, so we'll rent one for now."
"Yeah, sounds good."
He'd handle it well on his own.
Yet her husband always consulted her, even when he knew best.
Han Yu-young's heart still fluttered whenever she looked at Son Gwang-yeon.
And he felt the same.
Son Gwang-yeon had come to the countryside for college rural service and fallen for Han Yu-young at first sight.
In this rural place with only a slow bus rumbling down unpaved roads twice a day, he visited every weekend to court her. The handsome, polite guy from Seoul wasn't unwelcome, and at twenty, she gave birth to Jin-hyuk.
It was a happy marriage.
A simple wedding with just a glass of water as the matchmaker's offering, borrowed hanbok, and photos at the township studio—that was their entire photoshoot. But so what?
"Oppa, when are you going to stop using formal speech with me?"
"Haha, who knows. When are you going to stop calling me oppa?"
Jagiya. A term no one in the countryside used. Probably only Han Yu-young in all of Du-nae-ri—or maybe the whole township—heard it.
A man who cherished her, respected her, called her sweetly. Who wouldn't let her lift a finger for farm work, as if the world would end. From a woman's perspective, it was pure bliss.
"Oppa, hasn't Jin-hyuk been acting strange since the day before yesterday?"
"Yeah. Our little rascal's gotten too mature."
Even their nighttime romance had to be cautious. Thinking their nine-year-old was asleep, Son Gwang-yeon had reached for his wife's breast—only to pull back in shock at Jin-hyuk's fake cough.
That frustrating memory quickened Son Gwang-yeon's pulse.
"Um..."
"Ahem!"
Son Gwang-yeon tentatively took Han Yu-young's hand, trailing off. The young wife knew exactly what he meant and swallowed a cough of her own. Her hands, busily stirring beans, grew restless like a spider missing its prey.
"Oppa, Jin-hyuk will be home from school soon."
But she didn't pull away, so she clearly didn't mind.
"If we do it quick before he gets back... Haha."
No other houses nearby, no visitors. Still, Son Gwang-yeon glanced around before pulling his wife's wrist toward the gate. Like a pair of house thieves, Han Yu-young scanned the area too as she sneaked into her own home.
Rural kids' birthdays were usually late summer or fall. That meant parents made them during the off-season, when farm work eased and nights were long, bodies less weary.
But not for this couple, whose sparks flew with a single glance. Especially with their smart, precocious son, nights were for sleep only—leaving daytime as their only chance.
Anyway, such were the circumstances.
The village head and youth leader gawked at the beans piled in Jin-hyuk's yard, clicking their tongues.
"Well, damn—this house hit the jackpot again this year."
"No kidding. Buying up the whole village's land with crops this solid."
Old farmers valued crops over cash, saying they "bought money with crops" instead of selling. But inwardly, they mocked Son Gwang-yeon.
'Why buy worthless sandy fields and hills if you're farming?'
'That 'Seoul boy' rep ain't wrong.'
After enduring the midday heat, Son Gwang-yeon kissed Han Yu-young's forehead as she smoothed her hair and hurriedly opened the sliding door. He'd heard footsteps outside.
"Hey, brothers. How's it going?"
Village head Jo Il-heon and youth leader Park Dae-soon shrank at Son Gwang-yeon's Seoul accent—no one could ignore it. They liked the man, but his city speech was hard to get used to.
"H-hey. Uh, y'know... Jin-hyuk's dad, wanna come clamming with us tonight?"
"Clamming?"
He'd heard of it.
On full or new moon tides, the West Sea coast exposed mudflats and rocks fully. Locals grabbed torches or flashlights to harvest seafood.
Octopus, blue crabs, gizzard shad, sea bass, top shells, big whelks called belly-button snails. With luck, decent-sized eels too. In protein-scarce rural areas, it was prime food—and good hauls sold well at market for extra cash.
"Never done it before. Think I'd be okay?"
"Just light a fire, dig the holes, and pull 'em out. You're from the village same as us—can't have us going alone, right?"
They inwardly saw him as a city bumpkin, but he farmed well and was nice—no reason to exclude him. They wanted him along, but farm work kept him busy, so this was their excuse.
Son Gwang-yeon, ever perceptive, read their intent.
"In that case, count me in. Haha."
His warm smile sent the neighbors off happily, promising to meet after dinner. As Jo Il-heon eyed the bean pile, he added:
"Man, those beans really turned out great."
General wagged his tail silently at the village uncles.
The moment Son Jin-hyuk got home, he did his homework and grabbed a sack in the yard to help his dad bag beans.
"Jin-hyuk, honey, Mom's got it. Go play with General."
On any other day, he'd play with General, but today he had to stay near his parents. To see what happened. General had been growling at him since yesterday, making play tricky anyway.
"It'll go faster with one more pair of hands. You rest, Mom."
His son had changed too much.
Growing up with polite parents, he didn't speak casually like other rural kids—that was fine. But the maturity in his speech felt like talking to an adult.
'Kids grow up fast sometimes. Is it now?'
No way.
Even Jin-hyuk's mom, Han Yu-young, couldn't figure it out. She'd never raised a child before. Born to a well-off rural family, she'd never done rough work. Other kids got sick often, melting their parents' hearts, but her smart boy grew healthy and strong without major illness. She was just grateful.
'It's today.'
As Jin-hyuk helped, he racked his brain for dangers. His previous life had no hazards here—why did his parents die suddenly?
No war, no tigers or bears. Even this remote reclaimed village had buses, trucks, tractors—a lived-in world.
The mystery solved itself after dinner.
"Jin-hyuk, honey, Mom and Dad are going clamming, so you go to bed first, okay?"
"Mom, clamming? At night?"
"Yeah. We'll catch lots and buy you new notebooks."
His mom smiled like an angel, stroking his cheek.
Jin-hyuk's heart sank with a thud.
'That's it!'
Shaking off drowsiness, he snapped alert.
The West Sea was shallow. Paradoxically, that's why so many died—ignoring tides that rushed far out on spring tides, only to return fiercely.
Coastal rocks bore names like "Grandma Rock" or "Grandpa Rock" for a reason. Skirting the winding shore was long and hard; crossing at low tide seemed smart, but high tide caught many elders. Thus the tragic names.
'They went too far clamming and got swept by the tide.'
New moon meant no moonlight. Sky dark, mudflats blacker. You had to head inland before high tide, but disoriented folks went deeper. Rookies mostly.
'No streetlights or houses by the shore yet.'
The undeveloped era.
Jin-hyuk's chest pounded.
Like a switch flipping on a light, his sealed memories flooded back. Until now, they'd been shrouded in black cloth.
'Only now it comes back.'
He felt ashamed it took until their death anniversary to remember the date, guilty that the how only hit now. Brain plasticity, memory volatility, seals—lame excuses.
Right. In his old life, Mom and Dad went clamming and never returned. Next morning, their bedding lay untouched; Jin-hyuk became an orphan.
"Mom! I wanna go too!"
"Huh? It's dark and scary. And you have school tomorrow."
"Not scared at all. I'll just wait outside."
His newly mature son suddenly acting spoiled melted her soft heart.
"Haha, alright. Then sit nice and wait? No wandering off alone?"
Dad was the best.
Unlike other dads, he always listened.
'But how do I stop this?'
Too sudden. If he'd known ahead, he'd have planned.
No time.
Ah, that could work!
Jin-hyuk dashed to the shed.