Courage
Slurp.
I shoveled the last of the noodles into my mouth. The ramen had already gone soft and swollen. When I lifted them with my chopsticks, the strands snapped apart with a dull little break.
Just like my life — left alone for so long it had lost even its original shape.
I swallowed what I had been chewing and scooped up the grains of rice scattered through the broth. After draining the last of the soup, I tossed the empty container into the trash and stood up from my seat.
The automatic doors slid open.
Ding-a-ling.
"Have a good night."
The moment I stepped outside, small footsteps came pattering after me from behind.
"Mommy!"
A little girl who looked about five came running out at my back. She wore a yellow dress with a pink cardigan over it. Her hair was tied in twin pigtails, and the little hair ties bounced with every step.
I stepped aside without thinking. As she passed, she tipped her head up at me for a brief second.
"Thank you!"
Her voice was clear and bright. Then she bolted toward a woman standing on the opposite sidewalk, a shopping basket in one hand and a phone pressed to her ear. The woman looked up.
"Seoyeon, stay right there!"
But the child didn't listen. Smiling at her mother, she ran straight for the crosswalk.
I watched for a moment, then started walking. I stopped at the edge of the crosswalk and waited for the light. It was still red.
And yet the girl darted past me and straight out into the road — red light and all.
Her mother will handle it.
There were plenty of people around. It wasn't my business. It never was. Someone else would step in. I didn't have to. And if I stuck my nose in, people might look at me like I was some kind of weirdo.
Thinking that way was easier.
Then —
BEEEEEEEP—!
A horn split the air like something tearing. From the far end of the road, a blue cargo truck came barreling toward us. Its speed was wrong. The light was already red, and still it wasn't slowing. The body of the truck swayed left and right. Through the open driver's window, the man behind the wheel was waving his arm and screaming.
"The brakes are gone! Get out of the way!"
People murmured and shifted. Some backed away. Some pulled out their phones. I looked from the truck back to the child.
She had heard her mother's voice and stopped dead — right in the middle of the road. She never even saw the truck coming. She was looking only at her mother.
"Grab the kid!"
"There's a car!"
"Honey, move!"
Voices erupted from every direction. But no one moved. I didn't move either.
My heart began to hammer like it had lost its mind. The distance between the truck and the girl was closing fast.
Fifty meters.
Forty.
Thirty.
Someone will run.
I looked around. There was a solidly built man. There were young students. There were people standing closer to the child than I was. Every one of them stood frozen.
The girl's mother tried to leap into the road and fell. Her shopping basket spilled across the pavement. Apples rolled out onto the asphalt.
"Someone please help her!"
The moment I heard that scream, an old memory rose up.
Me, getting beaten behind the high school gymnasium. Kids walking past in the hallway had definitely seen me. Teachers had seen the bruises on my face. But no one stepped in. Someone else will help. This isn't my problem. That was what they must have thought.
And I was doing the exact same thing now — staring at a child and waiting for someone else to move.
My whole life had been like that. When my father disappeared. When my mother fell apart. When I was bullied at school. I never did a thing. I never told my mother I was struggling. I never begged a teacher to save me. I never shouted at the ones who tormented me to stop. I never told the girl I liked how I felt. At work. In the world. Always enduring. Always avoiding. Always hiding.
In my entire life, I had never once found the courage.
The truck drew closer. Twenty meters. I could see the child's face now. She still didn't understand what was happening — she was just reaching a hand toward her mother.
The instant I saw that face, something deep in my chest twisted strangely. I had never met this child before. And yet she didn't feel like a stranger. It was like looking at someone I had known for a very long time. Like discovering, far too late, something I absolutely had to protect.
I took a step.
What am I supposed to do if I go out there?
A voice spoke inside my head.
Even if you throw your body at it, you'll be too late.
You could die for nothing.
Someone closer will save her.
It was a familiar voice — the one that had held my ankles my entire life. I had lived by that voice. And in the end, nothing was left.
Forty-nine years old. No friends. No family. No memory of loving anyone. No memory of being loved. What difference would living any longer make?
I took another step. My hands were shaking. I was terrified. Terrified of being hit by the truck. Terrified of dying. But if I didn't move now, I would spend whatever life I had left drowning in regret all over again.
The child's mother wailed.
"Someone please save my baby!"
Something inside me snapped.
I ran for the child.
"Out of the way!"
Someone stared at me in shock. Cold air slapped my face.
BEEEEEEEP—!
The horn shredded my ears. Ten meters to the girl. The truck was a little farther than that. I ran — or rather, I thrashed and fought to run. A hundred-and-eight-kilogram body refused to obey my will. My knees buckled on the very first step. My thick thighs slapped together. My belly heaved. I hadn't even managed a few strides before my breath locked up. My heart felt like it would burst out of my throat.
Too late.
The child's face grew larger and larger. The truck closed in just as fast.
Please.
My feet tangled. My body pitched forward. I nearly fell, barely catching my balance.
Just a little more.
My lungs were on fire. The edges of my vision went dark. My knees screamed. On any other day I would have stopped already. I would have used the pain as an excuse. I would have told myself this wasn't something I could do and given up.
But this time I didn't stop. For the first time in my life, I ran forward even though I was afraid.
"Kid!"
Her head turned toward me. Huge eyes. A face white with fear. Trembling lips. I wrung out every last scrap of strength I had.
One step.
Two.
Three.
And I threw myself forward.
I caught her — a small body folding into my arms. She was so much lighter than I expected. Warm. I pulled her tight against my chest and twisted, tucking her head into me, turning my back toward the truck.
In that brief instant, the world slowed to a crawl. People's screams stretched out long and thin. The sound of tires scraping asphalt. The stench of burning rubber. The driver's contorted face. The child's thin little sob. Everything was sharp and clear.
I'm scared.
My whole body shook. I had thought about dying so many times. There had been nights I wished I could just fall asleep and never wake up. But now that death was right in front of me, I wanted to live. Even this empty life — I wanted just a little more of it. I wanted to fall in love at least once. I wanted to travel. I wanted to put on nice clothes and walk down a street. I wanted to live long enough that I wouldn't regret everything I never did for my mother. I wanted an ordinary family. I wanted to be a father. I wanted someone to love me.
Why did I always understand everything too late?
I clenched my teeth and held the child tighter. At the very least, I didn't want to leave this one alone the way I had been left alone.
Just once.
The truck's shadow fell over us.
I wanted to be someone who protected someone else.
CRASH—!
"Aaaaaaah—!"
The world flipped. An impact that started in my back tore straight through my body. I heard bones break. All the air left my lungs at once. Still holding the child, my body lifted into the air. I saw the sky. Ash-gray clouds. The convenience store sign. People screaming. Everything spun.
Then I hit the road.
THUD—!
Another shock ran through me. After that, I felt nothing. Not even pain. My body no longer seemed to belong to me. There was only a low humming in my ears.
I tried to open my eyes. My lids were impossibly heavy. When I finally forced a crack, the world was stained red. Blood. It had run down from my forehead into my eyes.
"Call 911!"
"Hurry, someone report it!"
"Check the child first!"
"That man shielded her with his body!"
Someone lifted my arm. Someone else carefully pulled the child from my embrace. Instinctively I tried to tighten my grip. I couldn't let her go. But I couldn't move a single finger.
The kid…
I tried to speak, but only a bloody breath spilled from my mouth. In the distance I saw a flash of yellow. Someone had picked the child up. She was crying. There was a small cut on her forehead, but her arms and legs were moving. A moment later her mother came running and gathered her up.
"Seoyeon! Seoyeon, look at Mommy! Are you okay?"
"Mommy…"
"Hey! Someone call an ambulance over here!"
The child was in her mother's arms. She was alive. She was standing on her own two feet. Maybe because I had held her, she hadn't taken the full force of the impact.
I watched them for a long time. The corner of my mouth lifted a little.
Thank God.
I was so, so glad.
I had never accomplished anything in my whole life. I couldn't stop my father from vanishing. I never noticed my mother falling apart. I never fought back when I was bullied at school. I couldn't even protect my own life. But at the end — I saved one person. A little child, no less.
Mom…
Suddenly I thought of my mother. Would she be sad when she learned I was dead? Or would she smile and say, What took you so long? Would my father be there too? Or was he still somewhere out at sea, unable to come home?
I thought I felt tears. I couldn't tell if it was blood or water. The sounds around me grew farther and farther away. People's faces blurred. The child's mother was bowing toward me, weeping. She seemed to be saying something, but I couldn't hear it.
I closed my eyes slowly.
If I could live again…
An absurd thought rose up.
If I could just live one more time…
I wanted to live differently. I wanted to stand up to the bullying. I wanted to tell my mother honestly that I was struggling. I wanted to confess to the person I loved. I wanted to build a real body. I wanted to walk down the street without ducking people's eyes. I wanted to get married. I wanted to have a child. I wanted to be someone someone else needed. Not a life that ended quietly alone in an empty room — a life where someone would grieve when I was gone.
But it was too late. It always was. I always regretted everything far too late.
My consciousness sank into the dark. I thought I heard the child's crying one last time. And then — very faintly — a woman's voice I had never heard before.
"This time…"
Warm, and sad.
"Please be happy."
Who…?
I wanted to ask, but no sound came out. In the darkness the woman whispered again.
"I'll be watching over you."
With those words, every sensation vanished. Complete darkness. No sound. No light. No pain.
And that was how I died.
On the day a man who had spent his whole life running finally found his courage for the first time.
