Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Three Lives (8)
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On the night of December 24th, snow poured down in thick flakes.
Jin-hyuk sat on the porch wrapped in a thick blanket with his mom.
Behind him, colorful string lights hung on a pine tree planted in a jar. They didn't have a flowerpot, so they'd used a jar instead, but just looking at it stirred his competitive spirit. Jin-hyuk ignored the Christmas tree. Inner peace mattered more than eye candy.
The world stretching out before him was a dark, cloudy night, yet it felt pure white and cozy all the same.
"When's Dad coming home?"
He pressed the light button on the blue electronic clock—both the face and the hands were blue.
Beep-.
09:21:05
There wasn't a single streetlamp in the neighborhood.
Dad wasn't the type to stay out this late, but with the year-end approaching, he'd gone to the new corner store for a neighborhood party. All the village adults were there, apparently. Homes with kids either brought them along or left a guardian like Jin-hyuk's mom behind.
Every parent loved their kids, but this couple's affection was something special, so Mom had stayed to look after Jin-hyuk. The thought of losing parents like these and growing up too soon brought a sting to his nose, winter chill or not. He tried not to think about it, but the memories surfaced unbidden.
It was like a scar etched into his heart—one that would follow him as long as he lived and breathed.
"Jin-hyuk, you must be sleepy. Why don't you head to bed?"
"No, I'm fine."
"They were playing cartoons earlier. You sure you don't want to watch?"
It was probably because it was Christmas Eve.
Late as it was, a Disney cartoon called A Christmas Carol was on, featuring the miserly Scrooge. Wasn't that for kids? Jin-hyuk had grown past Donald Duck by then.
The old black-and-white TV was a novelty after so long, but cartoons weren't his thing anyway. He wondered when Larva would come on—he'd loved that since his thirties. Poor Yellow. Good guys always got the short end.
"I'll go to bed once Dad gets back."
"Hmm... that's a problem..."
And it was a problem.
Dad was out there like a sitting duck by the water, and it worried him.
That's why people who love each other lived together.
Because they worried.
[You blue brats-!]
A Christmas Carol must have ended, and now the Smurfs were on with those pesky Gargamel lines coming from the main room. Christmas felt special even without fancy turkey or piles of gifts. Being with Mom made it more so. It'd be perfect if Dad were here too.
He leaned his head against Mom's lap. Her hand gently stroked his arm. He must have dozed off for a moment.
"Jin-hyuk."
"Yeah?"
"If you're sleepy, go inside and sleep, my baby."
"I'm not sleepy."
How long would she keep calling him "baby"?
It felt nice but kinda embarrassing. What would she think if she knew there was a middle-aged guy inside?
With all this snow and Dad not back yet, he felt uneasy. In his past life, he'd dozed off at home with itchy eyes from a cold, and the nightmare had started the next day.
"Jin-hyuk, why does Gargamel call the Smurfs 'blue brats'?"
Wasn't that the kind of question kids asked parents? Mom had such a girlish side. Her spirit was so pure.
Still, if Mom asked, he'd answer.
"Yeah, they look gray on TV."
"Right? Right?"
Repeating herself like that was so childlike.
"But the drawing paper at the stationery store is colored blue. Must be 'cause it's black-and-white TV."
"Oh, I see. Should we ask Dad for a color TV? So our Jin-hyuk can see the blue Smurfs?"
"..."
He didn't even watch cartoons.
The Meccano V bag he carried was embarrassing enough.
Wasn't Mom cold? Why stay out here?
Her gentle voice felt like a dream. Snowflakes rustled like footsteps as they fell endlessly. A sudden drowsiness pulled his eyes shut.
"Jin-hyuk should head inside and sleep."
But why did Mom keep trying to send him in? Snow poured down, but it wasn't cold. With her there, it felt warm.
As shallow sleep took hold, memories of days past floated up like dreams.
'What did I do for Christmas back in the day?'
Home Alone, Love Actually, Die Hard...
He'd blocked that acquaintance Yi Yun-seong who'd bragged about his girlfriend's sexy Santa cosplay. The guy trusted Jin-hyuk's discretion—had kept quiet even about his Benz—but must've been thrilled to show off. Her name was Ji-hyun, right? Hormonal slaves.
Still, real man Jin-hyuk had given a fat wedding gift at Yun-seong's ceremony.
He muttered a quiet curse their way.
'Get married again this time too.'
I'm staying with my mom.
Grrr... Woof-.
A low growl trailed off.
It was General.
Jin-hyuk's eyes snapped open.
'Did I hear that wrong?'
His brief alertness faded back to haze.
He lay his head fully on Mom's leg.
'Gotta wait for Dad...'
Half-dream, half-reality seeped through his half-closed lids.
A dark silhouette flickered beyond the gate, whispers tickling his ears.
'Asleep?'
'Asleep.'
Mom's body seemed to shake slightly.
Crunch.
Footsteps in the snow.
Cru-unch-.
Okay, definitely heard that.
Then rustling.
"Heave-ho! Our boy. Fell asleep waiting for Dad, huh."
Dad's voice, but his eyes wouldn't open.
At least he was back—relief washed over him.
Dad carried him to the main room.
With all the snow and it being Christmas, the family should huddle together warmly.
"Whew, that kid. Tough playing Santa. Haha."
"Shh. He'll hear you."
What was that?
He'd seen the newspaper-wrapped stuff Dad brought in.
All the neighborhood kids would get Christmas presents wrapped in newspaper.
Candy from the store, probably.
His mind was awake, but his body wouldn't respond. They said the mind ruled the body? Nothing ruled a sleepy kid's body more than drowsiness.
Jin-hyuk lay between Mom and Dad, welcoming a warm Christmas.
Mom patting his butt, Dad smoothing his hair—how could their touches feel so tender?
'Happy.'
He truly felt like a child again.
In his sleep, he grabbed Mom's hand tight and pulled it to his chest.
Jin-hyuk had been quite small as a kid.
Partly from not eating well, but he figured curling up all the time played a role too.
Huff-huff-.
"Hey, General! Exercise hard, and you'll grow big too."
Heh-heh-hek-.
General seemed convinced.
Cold days or icy roads, he ran with General every day.
Never skipped stretching or massages.
Maybe that's why.
By the time school started, none of his clothes fit.
He grew so fast day by day that during break, Mom had patched and lengthened them. Despite her skill, even she couldn't stretch them further.
"Our kid shot up—love it!" Dad took the bus to the town market for new clothes. They had an 88cc motorcycle, but Mom forbade it with the ice and wind. Jin-hyuk backed her up.
Waiting for Dad's morning and afternoon bus trips, Jin-hyuk played at the bus stop by Mi-kyeong's house with General.
"Jin-hyuk, it's cold. Come inside."
I'm good, lady.
That kid Choi Mi-kyeong was just fishing for winter break homework help.
He was ghostwriting her diary with made-up stories—left-handed, no less. Plenty of suffering already. Stomping his feet to stay warm, he ignored her.
"Your feet must be freezing."
Nope, exercising.
Why the dialect slipping out?
Local adaptation complete?
Mi-kyeong pouted and went inside without a word.
The afternoon bus finally arrived.
"Jin-hyuk! Dad's back."
Dad always brought tangerines, hotteok pancakes, and chrysanthemum bread from town in winter.
Mom and Jin-hyuk's favorites.
General loved them too. Not eating the peels proved he was one smart dog.
Mom dried the peels by the warm kitchen hearth and made tea.
Sweetened, one cup a day—no colds that winter.
It was a snowy day with biting winds.
"Honey! Honey!"
Dad rarely called Mom so desperately.
Meant he'd seen something gross or scary.
Like finding a snake. Mom would fend it off with a hoe or pitchfork, Dad cowering behind her, jabbing wildly.
They seemed like a swapped-gender duo.
'Heh, cute couple.'
But snakes in midwinter? No way.
Mom peeked through the slightly open door, feeling under the weather. Jin-hyuk asked for her.
"Dad, what is it?"
"Jin-hyuk, over by the greenhouse-!"
Dad pointed at the persimmon trees.
Greenhouse?
"I went to pull some green onions-."
And?
"The door... it was open-."
Door open?
"-They got in!"
Dad usually spoke smoothly like flowing water. Now he was worse than General at communicating. Couldn't call him worse than the dog, though.
Jin-hyuk finally asked, fed up.
"What?"
"Sp-sparrows! Five of 'em!"
Dad spread his hands like a kid bragging about size.
Five sparrows.
Jin-hyuk nearly buckled putting on his sneakers from the porch.
What to do with this overreacting dad over sparrows?
"Looks like they slipped in through the gap 'cause it's cold and windy."
Hey, boss. Not the time for analysis.
You called "honey" twice for a reason.
"Guess the sparrows wanted warmth too. Why? Did they tear the plastic?"
Terrorists in the greenhouse? Time for justice's broomstick.
Dad's face went innocent at the question—but only briefly.
Jin-hyuk read clear battle intent in his eyes.
Blazing like a hero facing the demon king who killed his comrades.
"I wanna eat 'em."
"..."
A feather-light sigh escaped as his energy deflated.
Jin-hyuk stylishly grabbed the broom from the yard corner and headed to the greenhouse.
He pictured himself like Aragon charging Mordor for the final battle. Anyone know Aragon? Fine, Zhao Yun at Changban then.
'Poor things.'
But Dad wanted to eat, so he'd try.
Dad followed with a shovel.
"You'll rip the plastic if you're not careful. Just grab a basket."
"Oh? Yeah, good idea?"
Jin-hyuk watched Dad scramble back home in a daze. How'd this naive guy become a landowner? Total mystery.
Whoosh-!
"Sorry- eek!"
Swoosh-!
"Forgive- hek!"
He'd studied kendo but never used it in real fights.
Each broom swing dropped a sparrow.
Tiny and quick, they should've been cornered—but he nailed them flying free.
"Ooh, my boy."
Nothing he couldn't do.
Gwang-yeon clapped like a seal.
He'd killed fish before, but birds felt more advanced. Guilt hit harder. But Dad wanted it—no choice. He justified the killing.
Needed cleaning. Mom wasn't well, Dad fainted at blood.
'Guess I'm on cleanup.'
Jin-hyuk singed the feathers over leftover charcoal, gutted them clean, rinsed. Now grill on skewers. Guts too—for his bro General.
"Jin-hyuk, ready yet? Looks burnt."
Dad, who'd trailed him, squatted by the hearth, drooling for protein. They had plenty to eat—why this? Friends said kids with hand-foot-mouth drooled. Dad got it too?
"Gotta cook through. Crust is inevitable."
Dad's eyes shone with envy watching his son.
Started with mudfish fishing—this improper gaze. 'Cause his soul age gave him the edge?
Crackle-crackle.
A pinch of sea salt on charcoal popped merrily.
Hot handle—switched hands a few times, twisted a wing.
Broke crisp like a snack, not crumbling.
"Good to eat."
Scraped burnt bits, lopped heads.
Heads could've been done earlier, but grilled with for General.
Smart dog knew no kitchen—Jin-hyuk tossed head and guts to wagging General at the door.
Dad held Mom's hand like a bride, gingerly crossing the raised kitchen threshold.
Hearth area low, stove high—a step. Two adults perched, each grabbing a sparrow skewer.
Crunch-smack—watching parents enjoy, Jin-hyuk felt the thrill of the kill. This is why we do it. Maybe catch a chicken next summer.
"Thanks to you, we finished the sparrows. Eat some, Jin-hyuk."
Mom offered a meaty leg.
Sparrows had barely any meat.
Why eat these tiny pitiful things—crunch.
'Ooh, tasty?'
Salty, nutty, chewy, crisp—almost too much salt.
After the sparrow feast.
Cleaning done, Jin-hyuk cracked the greenhouse door for a tiny gap. Wild things sneak through even slits.
That evening, Dad—shocked by the taste—opened it wider.
College soju sparrows weren't real ones, but these were delicious.
Next day, no sparrows—but all the green onions frozen dead.