Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Three Lives (7)
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Mom never bent her back in the fields because Dad would wave her off whenever she tried to help with the farmwork. That didn't mean she lounged around the house, though. She was always scrubbing the rooms and floors, cleaning the kitchen, and washing down the yard faucet.
As Jin-hyuk entered after sweeping the front yard, he spotted Mom preparing heaps of glutinous rice straw and red pepper powder.
"Mom, making red pepper paste?"
"Yeah. Gotta get it ready. You've been making stir-fried meat and rice cakes for us."
Jin-hyuk nodded and checked the faucet area.
There was a jar that hadn't been cleaned yet.
'Gotta help Mom.'
Jin-hyuk headed straight to the old shed. He pulled a few straws from the neatly stacked bundles, shook off the dust, blew on them, and rinsed them in water. Then he rolled them into a ball—voilà, a traditional straw scrubber.
He scrubbed the outside of the jar with a swish-swish. For the inside, he made a fresh one.
'Ugh, my arms can't reach.'
It was the curse of limbs just a bit longer than a dog's.
The jar for the red pepper paste was too big. Even on tiptoes, his hands couldn't touch the bottom. He grunted and struggled, only to drop the straw ball inside as an added disaster.
'Haa... what a mess...'
Embarrassed, he swallowed a curse that didn't fit the era or his age.
He'd been eating well lately, but growth was still a distant dream. Daily runs made his knees tingle and his back ache, as if he were growing by the day. But he was still just a nine-year-old kid.
"Hup!"
It was just a little further—he could grab it if he stretched more.
So he pushed up on his toes.
At that moment—thud. He plunged in perfectly.
Right into the jar.
Panicking, his all-purpose spell burst out.
"Moooooom!"
"Oh no!"
Han Yu-young came running in horror at the pitiful echo from inside the jar. Her face was pale with shock. All she could see were her son's kicking legs—his face was out of sight.
Women are weak, but mothers are strong, they say. Her flinch of panic was brief; she grabbed his ankle and yanked him out without hesitation. In that moment, Han Yu-young was Thetis herself.
Pulled from the jar by his ankle, Jin-hyuk thought seriously.
'Is that why I'm as strong as Achilles?'
If your mom grabs your ankle, you get super strength...
The order was reversed, but the strength was real enough.
Truth be told, Mom wasn't particularly strong. Nine-year-old Jin-hyuk weighed a mere 22kg—a short, picky eater of a rascal was light even for his slender mom.
'Gotta eat well and grow big.'
It was a humiliating day, falling into the jar because of short limbs.
He would never forget it.
Jin-hyuk glared at the jar, vowing revenge.
Jin-hyuk fished with Dad whenever he could, held Mom's hand on strolls around the neighborhood, and never skipped his morning and evening workouts on schedule.
No exceptions for vacation. Neighbors gave him odd looks—like, what's that kid up to?—but his parents cheered him on.
"Huff—huff, haaah—."
How diligently had he run in his previous life?
He'd first felt the thrill of running on the day he escaped the attic after college admissions results, racing through the terminal in pouring rain, heart pounding. From then on, he ran whenever possible—during his brief college days, after enlisting in special forces.
'Back in my army days, I flew across those mountains.'
Mountain runs were the best.
Even after discharge, during his working life, he never stopped. Running until he collapsed helped him sleep and quiet the emptiness in his heart.
Heart bursting as he ran, then pull-ups, push-ups, sit-ups. Like special forces circuits. Sweating buckets, breath reeking of fatigue, he'd endured loneliness and pain.
'Now I just run for the joy of it.'
His short limbs made speed impossible, but who was he racing? General kept pace, spurring him on.
Herk-herk-herk.
The Shiba Inu mix General—growly at times but now quite attached—panted wearily. Falling behind, he signaled his owner. Words weren't needed; General was a genius dog.
'The dog tires first?'
Neighborhood-famous speedy General now struggled in endurance races with nine-year-old Son Jin-hyuk. Jin-hyuk's stamina had surpassed his.
Jin-hyuk caught his breath, rolled his shoulders. He massaged his knees, thighs, hips, and ankles. Stimulating growth plates, protecting ligaments.
Jin-hyuk grinned at General.
"Hey, General. Race you home. First one there gets a dried mackerel."
Herk-herk.
General, slumped in rest, drooled at "mackerel" and sprang up.
"Go!"
Thud-thud-thud!
Jin-hyuk's feet pounded the dirt path.
Herhk-herhk.
Odd. General was faster in sprints, yet his barks faded behind.
'Am I finally quicker?'
No.
Glancing back, Jin-hyuk cursed inwardly.
'That damn dog!'
General was cutting straight across the empty field to home.
Blatant foul.
He ran morning and evening, ate plenty with parents around—no starvation worries. He washed and brushed religiously to avoid colds.
'Used to go hungry and crash unwashed back then.'
And so winter arrived.
Kids grow in winter.
Come December, homes with kids erupt in Christmas tree frenzy. Even temple-going families did it—kids were the true vanguards of religious unity.
The Son household was no exception. Dad seemed the most excited, though.
"Jin-hyuk, wanna go cut a tree with Dad?"
"A tree?"
"For a Christmas tree."
A guy who never went to church... whatever.
Just wanting to get in the spirit. For his young son and wife.
Most families back then did one-and-done tree chopping. Jin-hyuk thought it wasn't great—sacrificing a tree for fleeting fun.
"Dad, can't we dig one up and replant it? Cutting kills it."
Dad looked blank for a moment.
That's my boy—such a good heart.
"But can we dig it up?"
Frozen ground, heavy tree. Son Gwang-yeon had no experience. He hired help for farming now, after ten years. Shoveling? Just for worms with his son, mud snails with neighbors, arrowroots in the hills.
To Dad, frowning and pursing lips hiding his philtrum, Jin-hyuk said,
"Can't we buy the fir in Choi Mi-kyeong's yard?"
"That could work. I'll ask."
"I'll come too."
Jin-hyuk grabbed a bunch of dried mackerel from the shed.
Dad patted his head proudly, seeing his son's kind intent.
'We've owed the Choi family big time.'
Until the end of summer vacation at ten, Choi Mi-kyeong's parents had cared for him. Nearly nine months bunking with General until his fake foster parents showed up.
Even as an adult in Seoul, he'd visit to say hi. Even after Mi-kyeong married a banker, they'd meet for meals.
The Choi family felt like his own.
The father-son duo walked the rice paddy ridge to the Choi house.
The Chois were the next-richest after the Sons—already boasting the neighborhood's only two-story brick house.
"Aigoo, I ain't dug up a tree myself. But Jin-hyuk's family is different, ain't they?"
Choi Jang-hwan, Mi-kyeong's dad, was that kind of guy.
Nine years ago, he'd reached out first to help outsider Son Gwang-yeon settle, rolling up sleeves to build his house.
Even eyeing the dried mackerel Jin-hyuk offered, he quipped,
"What're you bringin' this for between us? We got plenty at home."
"Haha, Jin-hyuk insisted. Not askin' for the tree for free—take it as a snack, brother."
"Money for one lil' tree? Don't say such nonsense!"
Pretending anger, Choi Jang-hwan grinned happily.
At first, he'd worried about the skinny Son Gwang-yeon and pot-bellied Han Yu-young. Could they make it? City boy farming?
But they farmed well, had a handsome son, great personality—neighbors helped their fields first. Now the richest farmer around.
"Seein' you thrive makes me happier'n my own success. Hup!"
"All thanks to you, haha. Hup!"
Exchanging warm blessings, they slammed picks into the frozen soil.
Their skilled swings shattered the hard earth effortlessly. After digging deep, Choi Jang-hwan straightened, wiping his brow.
"Our Mi-kyeong yaps 'bout Jin-hyuk nonstop—like we got an extra son. Heh—breathless already. Strong stuff."
"Yeah? Hot out. Haha."
Right on cue, young Choi Mi-kyeong brought frothy rice punch. Her twin pigtails swung like car wipers—adorable.
After handing drinks to the dads, she approached Jin-hyuk.
Looked serious. Rubbing the ground with her purple grandma shoes, twisting shyly.
"Jin-hyuk, whatcha doin' on winter break?"
What else?
Rural kids: snowmen, sledding. Even aged up, Jin-hyuk's heart raced at paddy sledding. Heard cold winters meant good crops. Hoped for thick ice—fun for him, big bucks for Dad next year.
Ignoring his interests, Mi-kyeong rambled on.
"I'm goin' to Jeju with Mom and Dad? Sounds fun, right?"
Sounds great.
Jeju was for city newlyweds.
Jin-hyuk had traveled abroad plenty, but never Jeju.
'Twice for work, maybe.'
Wanna go with Mom and Dad too.
Childlike envy, but he swallowed it. Then Mi-kyeong got to the point.
"You'll help with break homework again, right?"
Did it before, huh.
Why don't I remember?
"You read so slow and barely talk."
True—age gap meant little chat with kids. He'd just watch them play. Teacher called him mature for it.
"Oh, sorry. What homework?"
"Diary."
This kid?
Involuntary. Yang energy gathered in Jin-hyuk's palm lao gong point. He urgently pressed his left thumb to his right inner zhong zhu point. His arm had started shaking on its own.
'Almost struck...'
She's like family! He reined in his surge with iron will. Otherwise, she'd cry, peace shattered.
Fuuuh—eyes closed, long exhale.
The Chois were benefactors and good neighbors. Choi Jang-hwan helped clumsy Dad; Mi-kyeong's mom treated lonely Han Yu-young like a sister.
Even for General—nine times out of ten, he'd be curled in their mutt's bowl.
'Decided.'
Not just three families around—good neighbors huge for the future.
After long-eyed torment, Jin-hyuk opened his mouth resolute.
"...I'll do it."
Furious at compromising with injustice, but no tears. Manly.
Very solemn. Childish voice clashed with his grim face—guilt over promising cheats.
Still, Mi-kyeong's beaming smile eased it a bit.
'My mighty peace...'
Overflowing.