Chapter 107
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 107
Chapter Title: Past (6), Psychological Therapy (3)
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00107 [-- #Past --]
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#Past (6), Psychological Therapy (3)
For the woman who came to see the boy, the psychological counseling was more than just an excuse.
‘I hope this child isn’t in pain.’
That was the genuine sentiment flowing beneath Song Sua’s mask. She always blamed herself. Wasn’t she being too selfish? Confirming Winter’s pain was ultimately just a way to comfort herself. Any consideration for the boy was secondary. It was a feeble excuse.
But she had already started. Bonds had formed from their meetings. Stopping now would only hurt the boy.
She wasn’t entirely sure, of course. What did Winter think of her? You never really knew people, but the boy’s depths were extraordinary. Even the real counselor providing advice would tilt his head in confusion.
The results of the various psychological tests the woman guided and the boy completed were evaluated by the counselor like this.
“It’s blatantly unusual.”
He shook his head.
“No, don’t be alarmed. Unusual doesn’t mean problematic. They’re different concepts. Statistically, if it deviates more than two standard deviations from the social average, it’s unusual. It just means it’s not typical. So, the ‘unusual’ here could be a mental illness, a trauma that doesn’t show on the surface, or exceptional qualities.”
That’s why the woman asked back then.
“What do you think it is, Doctor?”
“...Honestly, I don’t know. It analyzes as a suppressed model in family or sexual domains, but overall, it’s incredibly unique. If it weren’t for the brainwave analysis, I wouldn’t trust these results. I’d assume the kid wasn’t being honest.”
Seeing the woman’s darkened expression, the expert added his opinion.
“I know why you’re worried, President. The past is the past, and the common belief is that adolescent trauma lasts a lifetime. But that’s not true. Acquired mental illnesses aren’t irreversible damage. With proper counseling and treatment, there’s about 75% resilience. Unless it’s an extreme case.”
“Well. How many cases could be more extreme than this child’s past? Even optimistically, doesn’t that mean 25% of the trauma remains?”
“Oh dear. You’ve misunderstood. President, the human mind isn’t rigid arithmetic. And hardly any modern person is free of mental illness. Everyone has inner wounds, and those build a pillar of their personality. It’s just that this kid named Winter is so peculiar, it’s hard to conclude casually.”
“So, in the end, nothing’s certain.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you. But let me say one thing: this kid holds back from resenting his parents. He seems to have a lot of pent-up emotions, though. Next time you see him, try probing gently. His attitude during counseling suggests it’d be fine.”
The psychological counselor received video footage of every meeting between the woman and the boy. For her, it was an unavoidable measure to maintain her mask, but it weighed on her heart. It wasn’t exactly honorable toward the boy. Even if done with good intentions. But she had no alternative.
‘Every day is so anxious.’
And then today came.
After growing familiar enough to drop formalities, the woman would ask the boy for a simple test each visit. One at a time. So Winter was now filling in an incomplete sentence. It was the second time for the same test, so he could’ve shown reluctance, but he wrote steadily without pause.
They were problems without right answers. Whatever came to mind filled in was the respondent’s true state of mind. The one rule: don’t take too long. It was a rule Winter had grown used to.
Scratch, scratch. The fountain pen’s steady sound brought a sense of calm. The pen’s movement mirrored the boy’s temperament.
The woman felt like she was listening to music.
「My parents and I 」
The melody hit a snag and paused briefly. The short silence felt endless. Tapping his lips with the pen tip in thought, Winter wrote without changing expression.
「My parents and I parted ways. 」
Compared to the long, diligent answers elsewhere, this one was strikingly short. It had been the same last time. In family-related sections, the boy tended to restrain himself.
What meaning lay in that restraint?
After overcoming a few hurdles, Winter filled out the rest smoothly and handed the completed sheet to the woman. She received it and stored it in her personal files. The paper crumbled into light.
Winter spoke.
“Go ahead.”
“Huh? What?”
“You’ve looked uncomfortable since earlier. Don’t you have something to say?”
The woman scolded herself inwardly. First, she hadn’t hidden it well enough. Second, she’d stuttered in surprise. After hearing about her mask, the advising counselor had given precautions. One was not to panic or tense up.
Better late than never. Quickly composing herself, the woman offered the boy a shy smile.
“Sorry. I must’ve made you uneasy. You’re right. I have something to ask. I hesitated because it might upset you.”
“Well... isn’t intent what matters? I don’t know what it is, but you wouldn’t ask with bad intentions... You can ask. I won’t misunderstand. But if it’s hard to answer, you don’t have to.”
“Of course. Thanks for saying that. So, um, it’s a question from looking at your test results so far...”
She asked carefully. It was a sensitive trigger.
“Winter, did something really bad happen with your parents back then? I mean, the kind of bad that’s hard to imagine.”
“Yes.”
The boy’s immediate reply nearly rattled her again. Fortunately for her, Winter’s words weren’t over.
“Was that a tough question...? I thought you’d naturally guess. The intent was obvious from the test items... Ah, not that I lied. Being honest and understanding the intent are different things.”
Then Winter turned the question back on her.
“Are you curious what exactly happened?”
“No, no. You don’t have to tell me. It’d help if you did, but... I’m not asking what happened. I’m wondering why you suppress the emotions from it... You know how bottled-up feelings can become a sickness. Just confiding in someone helps a lot.”
I hope you don’t get sick. Hearing that, Winter nodded. Then he hesitated. Should he dodge the answer?
A sigh accompanied his negative conclusion. It wasn’t a big deal anyway.
“So I wouldn’t resent them.”
“Huh?”
“My parents were really bad people. I think they wronged me a lot. But I’m trying not to resent just them. It feels like misplaced anger...”
Misplaced anger? Not resent them? Wasn’t this something to rage, curse, and cry over? Confused, the woman waited for his next words.
The pause wasn’t long.
“After coming here, I’ve had a lot of time to think alone.”
The last moment Winter remembered from his life was the stark, cold surgery room. The scene’s end was unclear. He fell asleep at some point, and when he woke, it was his world alone. No more burdens weighing him down. The bittersweet liberation he felt then still lingered vividly. In the void sparkling with ten million stars, he’d cried for a long time. No need to hold back. No one here would ache at his tears.
After that, he did nothing, just let time pass. Or rather, flowed with it.
“At first, the more I thought, the more the hatred grew. I hated Dad, hated Mom. I blamed them for me being here, since they didn’t love me. But nurturing all that hate... it felt wrong, like it wasn’t enough.”
The listening woman’s pulse quickened. Not enough people to hate? If the swollen hatred turned elsewhere, who would be the target?
But her worry was unfounded. Winter’s following words were unexpected.
“Even I could see Dad was immature. Lacked responsibility, self-control. He prioritized his feelings, so empathy for others was rare. Mom wasn’t much better... But were they like that from birth? No fate decrees, ‘You’ll grow up to be rotten parents,’ right?”
Still not grasping his point, the woman ambiguously agreed.
“Yeah... right.”
“There’s such a thing as innate nature. But people learn to become human, mature through life... So I thought, ultimately, it’s this world that gave me such parents. If my grandparents had loved a bit deeper, their friends been a bit better, their teachers given better guidance, things wouldn’t be like this...”
“So, what you said was lacking... you’d have to hate everyone in the world?”
“Yes, exactly. That’s how I saw it then. The real root was elsewhere, but hating just my parents felt like giving up halfway... Pretty childish, huh?”
Asking that, Winter smiled brightly. The woman struggled to read the boy’s smile. Real or fake? With elusive emotions, Winter continued the story.
“Hating my parents made me hate people, hating people made me hate the whole world. ‘I wish this world would vanish.’ I imagined that every day.”
“Winter, not anymore?”
“No. That won’t do.”
“Why?”
“Because the people I love have to live in that world.”
Winter clasped his hands on his knees, looking down quietly.
“There are two people I desperately want to be happy. Coming here made me realize anew: people live among other people. Unhappy people probably can’t make others happy. So, I should hope people become happier. Not endless hate.”
The boy’s final addition.
“But it’s really hard.”
The woman felt profound sorrow.
============================ Author's Note ============================
#Q&A
Q. Agraoppa-nim: @How will the Harris incident be revealed?? If it keeps replaying dramatically across the US like with Santa Maria, cast like Jeffrey the turnip will become national stars! lol
A. As the brigade commander said, it’s full of dramatic elements. Time for Jeffrey to get something...
Q. That House Cuttlefish: @When it finishes, roughly what year and quarter?? I’d love for the serialization to last my whole life.
A. That long and quality wouldn’t hold. I don’t have that skill...
Q. Lifesaver-nim: @Binge-read complete. Paid and finished in two days. Recommended to a friend while reading, but he refused, saying too much innocence would send him to the afterlife on a second read. Pitiful he can’t grasp innocence. p.s. Amon whispers via starlight: Dump coupons on the author. So here’s 27 chapters.
A. Innocence overdose to the afterlife? Doesn’t that friend do free innocence giveaways?... Author needs it...
Q. Jzelia-nim: Highest completion quality among Joara novels. And the thrill in various senses is no joke. Rewatched The Little Prince, searched terms mid-read. Joara teaser-only? How to donate, royalties, coupons? Nah. Just post an account in notes, I’ll deposit chicken money monthly.
A. Gratitude for the sentiment alone on donations. Incomplete novels can fall out of taste anytime.
Q. 14C2A58H2-nim: @Paper book... Limited edition? Like Tunguska-nim’s one picto of innocence and antimatter in vacuum plasma tube, or author-signed where innocence overflows just looking.
A. Thinking of doing a signed edition event.