Mixed Feelings (4)
I thanked her for sharing her story. “See that guy over there playing with Min-woo? He’s actually pretty fun, so why don’t you go join them?”
“Okay.”
Min-ji nodded and walked over to Se-hwan, who was still entertaining Min-woo. She looked mature for her age, but the way she couldn’t resist playing showed she was still just a child after all.
Once Min-ji had left, Seol-hwa and San turned their attention back to the spirit. The children’s mother was staring blankly at her daughter’s back with a slightly dazed, confused expression.
“Kids have a way of remembering those little things with surprising accuracy. You know that, right?”
“…I have no excuse. Min-ji was right.”
“I wasn’t trying to scold you. I’m just… puzzled. Saying ‘I love you’ to your children isn’t that difficult, is it?”
She couldn’t answer. Seol-hwa, clearly frustrated by the woman’s silence, let a hint of disbelief color her voice.
“This might sound harsh, but even if it wasn’t sincere, you could have said it. Why… have you never once told them?”
“…I didn’t want to lie.”
“Pardon?”
At some point, a complicated emotion had settled over her face.
“I was taught that you should never do that. So I couldn’t.”
The childlike way she spoke about what she’d learned from adults left Seol-hwa momentarily flustered.
“W-well, that’s true, but… there’s also such a thing as a white lie…”
“…I think I get it.”
At San’s words, Seol-hwa’s eyes widened.
“Get what?”
“This person. You know how, if you live long enough, you run into people like this? The ones with some kind of problem in their personality or deep in their heart.”
“…You’re saying she’s one of them?”
“Personality disorder… I don’t know if we can call it that. I’m not a doctor, so how would I know? But one thing’s for sure—there’s definitely something missing.”
Seol-hwa didn’t want to accept it, but for a brief moment, she couldn’t help but agree with San. Especially that part about something being missing.
“More than the children’s story…” San said, looking at the children’s mother, “I think we need to hear yours. That might give us at least some clue about your lingering regret.”
“…If it’s necessary, I’ll tell you.”
“Could you share with us what kind of life you’ve lived?”
“Yes.”
She began her story in a calm, detached voice.
“I…”
My name is Lee Seon-hye.
From a very young age, she had an incredibly sharp eye for people. She was naturally gifted at reading expressions, at knowing exactly what others wanted and what kind of words they hoped to hear.
“Are you really… okay with this?”
“I’m fine. Just get me something even better next year!”
Even her own parents had relied on Seon-hye’s perceptiveness, using her gentle, well-timed lies to comfort them. One such instance was when she was little and saw how worried her parents were about affording her birthday present because of their tight finances. She volunteered not to receive one at all.
Of course she wasn’t okay. She was only six years old—the age when you want presents more than anything. There was no way she was fine with it. Yet Seon-hye hid her true feelings and put on a mask of a cheerful smile.
But adults weren’t fools either. They had learned their own social awareness over the years, and they soon realized Seon-hye was forcing herself to lie and pretend everything was fine.
On Children’s Day when she turned eight, her parents bought her a large teddy bear and said,
“Seon-hye, it’s sweet that you think of Mom and Dad, but you don’t have to lie and hide your own heart like that.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize… We know you did it because you’re a thoughtful daughter who cares about us. But lying is wrong, so from now on, can you always be honest with Mom and Dad?”
“Yes…”
“Promise?”
“Promise…”
They made the promise, hooking their pinkies together.
After that, Seon-hye showed her parents her honest self. By then their family situation had improved, so being completely truthful at home didn’t cause any problems.
At home, that is.
Obviously, the outside world was different. Everyone mixes a little falsehood into their interactions to get along with others. Even in the small society of an elementary school class, things were no different.
When Seon-hye was in the lower grades and still very young, always being honest wasn’t an issue. The problems started in fifth and sixth grade, when kids began thinking more deeply and maturing. It was the age when you had to hide some of your feelings, show an appealing side, a kind side, a side that fit in with the group.
Seon-hye, with her keen perception, had known this for a long time. But because of the promise she’d made with her parents, she continued to be completely honest.
“Hey, you can’t sneak over the school wall like that.”
The girl who always told the truth, who only spoke correctly. She knew it would be easier to overlook her friends’ misbehavior, but the child who had sworn not to lie always put the brakes on their mischief.
“I saw you eat an extra carton of milk. You shouldn’t steal someone else’s milk.”
To the teacher, she was a model student. To the other children, she was just an annoying, nagging kid.
As a result, no one stayed by Seon-hye’s side. Even the friends she had helped left because they didn’t want to be ostracized, and eventually it turned into outright bullying.
Sharp-eyed Seon-hye quickly noticed the shift in her surroundings and asked the teacher for help, but…
“Hmm, Seon-hye. Why don’t you try getting along better with your friends?”
All she got in return were empty platitudes.
That was when Seon-hye realized the truth. Being completely honest was only allowed at home with her parents. Just like when she was little, the right thing to do was read people’s expressions and act accordingly.
“Seon-hye, which tint color do you think looks prettier?”
“Which ones?”
“These two— shade 12 and 15 from YSL. I can’t decide which is better.”
So starting in middle school, Seon-hye quickly read her friends’ faces and responded in kind. Even when she didn’t mean a word of it.
“Both would look good on Ye-eun, but I think 15 suits you better?”
“Really? Yeah, I thought so too! I’ll get this one.”
She observed just enough to immediately figure out what the other person wanted to hear. In a society where people had to blend in, it was her greatest strength.
Naturally, many people began to gather around her. Seon-hye didn’t want to lose those relationships. She never wanted to be alone again like she had been in elementary school. So she didn’t hesitate to lie if it meant matching someone’s mood or giving them the answer they wanted.
Once again, the life behind the mask of lies was incredibly comfortable and stable.
She naturally got a boyfriend too. Her friends were all starting to date, and she needed something to talk about with them. So she dated a boy she didn’t actually like, whispering empty words of love. She chose someone who wouldn’t make the other girls jealous but was still decent enough.
She lived that way through all three years of middle school and continued into high school.
Then, during her second year of high school, something unexpected happened.
“Oh…”
From an impulsive relationship, she suddenly found herself pregnant.
Seon-hye, who had always been quick to read people’s expressions and actions, was rarely caught off guard—but that day, she was truly shaken for the first time in a long while.
A child that had never been part of any plan. Unlike her feelings and emotions, which she could always hide, this was something that couldn’t be concealed no matter how hard she tried.
Realistically, neither she nor her boyfriend had the ability to raise a child. She was still dependent on her own guardians—how could she possibly raise a baby?
Thinking she had no choice but to terminate it, she told her boyfriend first. But his reaction was completely different from what she expected.
“Let’s keep this baby.”
“…What are you saying?”
“I really love you, Seon-hye. I could never give up on a child that’s ours. I’ll find a way to make money. I’ll work myself to the bone to cover all the child-rearing costs.”
It was nothing but naive, foolish talk. That’s what her reason told her. But perhaps because she had spent so many years hiding her true feelings behind lies, when she read the sincerity in his expression and emotions…
‘…Ah.’
She couldn’t bring herself to oppose him. Unlike her, who had whispered false love, she realized this boy truly loved her with all his heart.
After three years of living to please others, Seon-hye… could not choose the option of going against that feeling and facing reality.
“…Alright.”
“Really? I swear I’ll take responsibility for the rest of our lives!”
In the end, things went his way. Despite fierce opposition from both families, they pushed through. She was even kicked out of her house… but there was nothing she could do. It was the path they had chosen together.
The children who were born were incredibly lovable. It made her think the saying—that babies evolved to be cute so they could survive—wasn’t just empty words. They were so adorable that for a while, she could completely forget about their harsh reality.
Yet every time she looked at her lovely children, a question would rise in her mind.
I don’t love my husband. Is it right for me to love our children?
There was a clear difference between finding them lovable and actually loving them. If it had been anyone else, she probably could have lied and said she loved them. After all, hadn’t she whispered false love to her husband?
But perhaps because they were her own flesh and blood, Seon-hye could not say those words to her children without absolute certainty. Was it right to truly love them? If she once lied and said she loved them, wouldn’t she end up whispering the same false love forever, just like she had with her husband? Wouldn’t that feeling eventually turn into a lie too?
Fearful and tormented by those thoughts, the years passed.
The children’s father worked day and night, only to die in a motorcycle accident. Seon-hye followed in his footsteps, working without rest to cover the child-rearing costs, and met a similar fate in an accident.
Even in the moment of her death, Seon-hye was still uncertain.
Until the very end, she could never remove the mask called a lie.
“That is the life I lived. But I didn’t want to lie to the children, so I couldn’t say it.”
After hearing the entire story, San wore a complicated expression. She wasn’t sure what to say. It was an incredibly delicate feeling.
At least she thought she understood the lingering regret.
‘She wants to confirm whether she truly loves her children.’
That was the only thing that came to mind after hearing the story. She had said she wasn’t sure herself… but from the moment she first brought up the children, it was clear she had some unresolved feelings toward them.
But then Seol-hwa, who had been listening beside her, spoke up.
“So you were afraid that if you said ‘I love you’ as a lie, your heart would eventually become a lie too?”
“Yes…”
“What are you even talking about?!”
Seol-hwa suddenly raised her voice, and San looked at her with an expression that said, What’s gotten into her?
“Baek Seol-hwa, what are you—”
“A mother loving her children is the most natural thing in the world! How can you say you can’t tell them you love them just because you’re not certain?”
Even to Seol-hwa’s obvious question, Seon-hye only shook her head slightly.
“But I really don’t know. I’ve never even felt that so-called maternal love…”
“The fact that you didn’t give up on them even in that situation is maternal love! What more do you want from it?”
“…That was just the logical thing to do. It didn’t come from emotion.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. If you truly had no maternal love from the beginning… Haah, never mind. Forget it.”
Seol-hwa pointed toward Min-woo and Min-ji, who were still happily playing.
“If you really can’t believe it, trust me and just say it. Tell the children you love them.”
“What? But right now they can’t hear me anyway. My voice won’t reach them…”
“I can make it reach them! San, you can do it, right?”
San looked a bit reluctant at Seol-hwa’s question but eventually nodded. She hadn’t been convinced by Seol-hwa’s actions. But earlier, when Seol-hwa had told her to say she loved them, she had seen Seon-hye’s eyes waver for a moment. Her emotions had clearly been stirred. So she thought this might actually be worth trying.
“Go ahead. I can let your voice reach the children.”
“Yoo Se-hwan!”
Seol-hwa didn’t even give Seon-hye time to hesitate. If she said “I can’t” again, there would truly be no way forward. She wanted to act before the woman put her mask back on.
“Bring Min-woo and Min-ji over here for a second!”
“Huh?”
Se-hwan had no idea what was going on, so he looked confused, but he still brought the two children over as asked.
“What?”
When Se-hwan asked why she’d called him, Seol-hwa gestured for him to step aside as if to say he should stay out of it, then spoke to the kids.
“Kids.”
“Yes?”
“Yeees?”
“There’s someone who really wants to tell you something. Can you wait just a moment?”
“Who?”
“If you wait here, they’ll come. Want to sit on this bench until then?”
Min-woo looked completely bewildered. Min-ji, on the other hand, seemed to sense that something was off, but she couldn’t figure out what, so her face was full of confusion.
“We’ll be right over there, so don’t worry. It’s not scary or anything.”
“You can speak now.”
At San’s signal, Seol-hwa led Se-hwan and San a good distance away. Once they were far enough to still watch the children, she told Se-hwan,
“This is the only way.”
“…?”
Se-hwan hadn’t heard the full story, so he didn’t quite understand, but he was perceptive enough to realize he should just stay quiet and observe.
On the bench sat only Min-woo and Min-ji. There was clearly no one standing in front of them. Min-ji began to wonder if the adults were playing some kind of prank to surprise them.
But then—
“…Min-woo. Min-ji.”
A voice came from nowhere.
It was clearly a creepy situation, but the first feeling that rose in the children wasn’t fear.
“Huh? Mom?”
“Mom…?”
It was longing. Because the voice they heard belonged to their mother.
When Seon-hye realized the children could really hear her voice, she unconsciously clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Mom? Where are you, Mom?”
“No way, there’s no way Mom’s voice…”
“It was Mom’s voice, Min-ji!”
“That can’t be, you dummy! Mom’s dead…!”
“But it really was Mom’s voice!”
At Min-woo’s words, Min-ji had no rebuttal. Because it really had been their mother’s voice. A voice they still remembered clearly even after three years.
Watching Min-ji grow confused at hearing her voice and Min-woo repeatedly asking where Mom was, Seon-hye finally managed to open her mouth and speak.
“……Have you been doing well?”
“It’s Mom!”
“…Is it really Mom?”
“Yes… it’s Mom.”
Once her mouth opened, it wouldn’t close easily. She hadn’t realized how many things she wanted to ask, but the words flowed out faster than she expected.
“I’m glad you both look healthy. Are you eating well?”
“We are!”
“……Mom, what’s going on? How can we hear your voice…?”
“Those big brother and sisters over there helped. Mom… had something she wanted to say… something she wanted to tell her son and daughter……”
Seon-hye pressed her lips tightly together. Could she really say it? Wouldn’t it just be another lie that hurt the children? Those worries piled up inside her, forming a massive dam that blocked her throat. Her voice was trapped behind the dam of anxiety and couldn’t escape.
“Mom?”
“Where did you go?”
They couldn’t see anything, and when their mother’s voice stopped, the children grew anxious. Especially Min-woo, who was starting to tear up as he searched for her.
“Mom, Mom! Where are you…?”
The daycare teachers might soon notice Min-woo’s strange behavior. That was when someone shouted from the side.
“It’s okay to just say it! No one will blame you!”
It was Seol-hwa.
“Even if it’s a lie, no one will say anything! The children want to hear it from you!”
Seon-hye’s eyes widened.
“Because you are their mother, tell them what they want to hear… what a mom wants to say to her children!”
The moment Seol-hwa shouted those words, Se-hwan and San quickly covered her mouth. The daycare teachers and even the other orphanage children were giving her strange looks.
“Ahaha, it’s nothing…!”
Seol-hwa couldn’t push her any further. But it had been enough.
Seon-hye closed her eyes. Then her lips moved.
“…Min-woo. Min-ji. My handsome son and beautiful daughter.”
Maybe if she didn’t look at their faces, she could say it. That’s why she closed her eyes. And surprisingly, the words she had wanted to say from the bottom of her heart flowed out smoothly.
“You know Mom loves you, right?”
She didn’t know if the heart behind those words was sincere or a lie. Maybe there wasn’t even a shred of truth in them. Seon-hye still couldn’t tell. But she felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest.
She silently thanked Seol-hwa for giving her that push and slowly opened her eyes.
And then—
“……Ah.”
The children were crying.
“Mom, waaah, Mom, I missed you…!”
“Hic… sob… waaah…”
The mischievous Min-woo and the unusually mature Min-ji—both of them were crying, calling for their mother.
“Ah…”
Facing their faces, she finally realized it. The heart that had been hidden behind the mask. The real feelings that had been mixed in with all the lies.
Seon-hye understood the truth she herself had never recognized.
She reached out her hand. She couldn’t touch them, but she stretched it out as if to wipe away their tears. And she spoke.
“I’m so glad.”
The real heart hidden within the lies wasn’t a lie after all.
“It wasn’t a lie.”
She didn’t know about anything else. But at least everything she felt toward her children… had been pure sincerity without any lies mixed in.
She couldn’t touch them, but she still reached out. Because she wanted to gently stroke their heads one last time.
That was the heart she held as their mother. Something no one could deny. Not even the lies that had filled her entire life could deny it.
“Min-woo. Min-ji. Mom really loves you.”
“You have to stay healthy and live long, long lives.”
Calming Min-woo and Min-ji down afterward took quite a lot of effort. They also got an earful from the orphanage director about not triggering the children’s trauma, but thankfully the mature Min-ji explained through her tears that it wasn’t like that, so they didn’t get scolded too badly.
“…So that was the regret. She wanted to say those words.”
“It’s an easy thing for us to say, but for some people, those few words can be incredibly difficult.”
Yeah. Everyone has their own circumstances.
“Did you collect the spiritual energy?”
“Sniffle… no…”
The gumiho, who had been crying again, apparently hadn’t even thought about gathering energy. We stepped outside the orphanage for a moment and returned to the bench from earlier. A small amount of spiritual energy still lingered on the bench where Min-woo and Min-ji had been sitting.
Baek Seol-hwa cupped it in both hands, gently closed her eyes, and spoke in a subdued voice.
“…It’s warm.”