The Kind Yohan (1)
A woman stood at the threshold between middle age and old age. Cosmetic procedures had left her skin taut and free of wrinkles, but there was nothing to be done about the white hairs creeping in. She sat in a rocking chair, at rest.
A holographic window projected a sweeping grassland vista that opened her heart wide. She sipped ujeon tea made from freshly picked green leaves, and the bright fragrance of grass spread through her.
This is the life.
Financially comfortable, overflowing with free time. This was her reward for volunteering for a government project in her youth and grinding herself into the dirt for more than a decade.
Her parents' generation had insisted that an unmarried woman would be miserable in her later years and had hounded her to marry quickly — yet she had dozens of children born of the heart.
The children who dropped by whenever she least expected them were one of the things that made her life rich.
They all grew up so well.
Recalling the ones who had come to visit as adults, the woman let her mind drift further back, all the way to the distant past. She thought of the children she had cared for when she was still a novice nanny.
Having learned childcare only from books, the green nanny had made plenty of mistakes raising them. Fortunately the children had good natures and never went completely off the rails — though a few of them had turned out a little strange as they grew.
Yohan. I wonder how that sweet boy is doing.
Among the kind ones, he had been exceptionally kind. So kind that even children mid-quarrel would rein themselves in the moment he appeared.
The way he beamed every time he saw her had made her happier than she could say. Thanks to Yohan, a novice nanny had grown into a seasoned one.
I wish he'd visit just once. Has the boy forgotten his mother now that he's all grown up?
Right on cue, the doorbell rang. The nanny thought of the old saying — speak of the tiger and it appears. Her quiet, aging heart gave a little flutter.
On the video feed stood a tall, handsome man, three women pretty enough to be celebrities, and a small child. The black-haired woman with crimson eyes was holding something shaped like an ornate egg.
Which one is my boy?
The nanny found the traces of childhood in the grown man's face. She shoved her feet into slippers and hurried to open the door.
The door swung open, and Yohan started to call out a cheerful greeting — then tilted his head.
"Mother…?"
The nanny in his memory had been plump and generous. The middle-aged woman who opened the door had a figure fit for a yoga or Pilates instructor.
"Do you happen to know a Mrs. Lee — a nanny?"
"I am the nanny, you little brat."
"What?"
Yohan looked her up and down again.
"Did you get surgery?"
The nanny was appalled. Of all the children she had raised, to produce one this rude.
For a woman who prided herself on having raised even her first charges into fine young people, it was pure humiliation.
"What's your name, then?"
"Yohan. Don't you remember me?"
The nanny was appalled all over again. How had that sweet child grown up into this?
Was there a problem with my teaching?
No. There was nothing wrong with her methods. If you farm and harvest nothing but oddities, the farmer is at fault — but if only one plant comes out strange, the seed is the problem.
The seed called Yohan had been quality stock. The harsh world must have been the culprit.
"Of course I remember…"
"Really?"
"You were the kindest one of all."
The nanny barely swallowed the words unlike now. First impressions had simply been bad. For all she knew, he might still be as well-mannered as he had been as a child.
"I was, wasn't I. I still remember what you used to tell me. 'If Yohan doesn't go to heaven, who will?'"
Just as the nanny had said, Yohan had arrived in a heaven of sorts — Sophia's divine realm.
Everything outside the garden was as barren as hell, and he had to fight battles for a living, but the mere existence of a goddess with those massive breasts made it paradise.
"R-right. Anyway, come in. Are those your family behind you?"
Having confirmed her guest was her own child, the nanny gestured at the people behind Yohan.
"Family, and also my boss."
"Ah. You brought your supervisor along."
The nanny barely held back the question of why on earth he had brought his boss. It wasn't a conversation to have across a front door.
Beep. Initiating guest reception sequence.
The household android she had purchased for entertaining guests brought out refreshments — expensive ujeon tea paired with traditional sweets that went perfectly with it.
For Yohan, visiting after so long, I can spare this much.
The nanny firmly banished any thought of how precious the tea was.
"Thank you."
Yohan's greeting lifted her spirits. At least he hadn't completely forgotten his manners.
"Mad Demon, can I drink this?"
"You ask the host's permission first, then you drink."
"Ohhh!"
"Evni, you've been touching everything, so wipe your hands with a wet tissue first."
"Mm…"
Yohan taught the children table manners. Watching with warm satisfaction, the nanny turned her attention to the large-chested woman and the black-haired, red-eyed one.
"So, which of you three is Yohan's wife?"
"Three of us?"
Sophia's face did something strange. The nanny wondered if she had misspoken and reviewed what she had just said, but found nothing odd about it.
The big-chested foreigner, the mixed-looking woman, and the ditzy-looking young lady. That's three, right?
"Is there some problem…"
"Let me introduce everyone."
Before the situation could spiral further, Yohan stepped in.
"This is Sophia, my boss — I mentioned her earlier. And this is Cheonsol, my wife. Lan-lan-i, Evni, and Lulu are my daughters."
"I see. Hm? Lulu?"
"This one."
Yohan held out Lulu. Confronted with a wiggling egg, the nanny gave up on understanding.
Must be some toy that's trendy with young people these days.
"What a pretty child."
"Isn't she?"
The nanny agreed vaguely and lifted her cup. Warm tea sliding down her throat settled her confusion a little.
"Anyway — that little Yohan, grown up, starting a family, and coming to visit. I can't tell you how happy I am. Your wife is beautiful, the children are lovely. You've grown up wonderfully."
As she spoke, the nanny looked at Lan-lan-i. How old was she, exactly? Mixed with foreign blood — maybe that made her grow faster.
An old person's characteristic curiosity reared its head.
"Lan-lan-i, was it?"
"Yep!"
"Does this child not use formal speech?"
"She lived abroad before coming here. She learned Korean well enough, but formal speech is hard for her."
"Ah, I see."
The nanny accepted it with an open heart. If she had lived abroad, it couldn't be helped.
"How old are you?"
"I'm a grown-up!"
Lan-lan-i refused to give her exact age, afraid of being treated like a little kid.
When the nanny looked nonplussed, Yohan scrambled to cover.
"Foreign-raised."
"Right, right."
The nanny drained her tea to calm her swirling thoughts. Only after emptying the cup twice did she settle.
Forget the children. Look at Yohan's wife.
The young woman called Cheonsol was refined, her every gesture full of dignity. Unlike the nanny, who drank tea as a casual hobby, she seemed to have a deep understanding of the tea ceremony.
The boy married well. Must be because he was such a kind child.
Watching Cheonsol's graceful bearing, the nanny found her attention stolen by Sophia beside her.
Her chest was so enormous it was nearly impossible not to stare.
Foreigners really are different.
She had said she was Yohan's workplace supervisor. The nanny found herself wondering how the boy was doing at his job.
"Sophia, was it? May I speak casually with you?"
"Of course."
"Does Yohan do good work?"
He was close enough to bring his boss along, so he couldn't be terrible at his job. She asked with half-certainty already in place.
"Absolutely! Thanks to Yohan, we've achieved far more than expected. We were on a trip to celebrate his reward today, and stopped by."
"I see."
Warmth filled the nanny's chest. No one feels bad hearing praise for a child raised from the heart.
"Cheonsol, was it?"
"Please, speak freely."
"How is your husband?"
"Mad Demon is…"
Cheonsol launched into praise of Yohan. The nanny was briefly thrown by the nickname "Mad Demon," but decided it must be a pet name and let it pass.
"Goodness. I've been talking about myself this whole time. Aren't you curious about Yohan's childhood?"
"That's exactly why we came!"
"This lady is most curious indeed about Mad Demon's younger days."
The nanny cast her mind back to Yohan's childhood. One incident still stood out clearly.
"Yohan was a deeply affectionate boy, overflowing with a sense of justice. He played the big-brother role among the other children, so he had no shortage of responsibility either."
"…"
Sophia and Cheonsol found the nanny's words hard to believe, but listened in silence.
"One day, something I treasured went missing. I scolded the children, thinking one of them had stolen it — and then Yohan found it in the storage shed and brought it to me. I had put it away myself and simply forgotten. I was so embarrassed. Do you know what he said to comfort me?"
"I found it, so it's mine now?"
"That is not comfort."
The nanny shot Sophia a sidelong look. It seemed this boss of his had a lot to do with how strangely Yohan had turned out.
"He said, 'I'm just glad Nanny's precious thing didn't disappear.' How moving that was."
Overcome with emotion, the nanny dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. Cheonsol seized the moment to whisper.
"Was that the truth?"
"That thing was a machine that made food if you put powder in it. I wanted a late-night snack, so I borrowed it for a bit — and got caught. So I hid it in the shed and then 'found' it and brought it back."
"…"
Armed with the truth, Cheonsol closed her mouth. It seemed like something the happily reminiscing nanny should never hear.
"Best keep it secret."
"That was the plan."