A Small Request (3): The Stationery Shop Mother
Mok Seong-gyu was born into a poor family and endured a difficult childhood. There was no rule saying poverty had to equal misery, but he simply had no luck. His parents fought constantly from the moment he was old enough to understand his surroundings, and they separated before he even reached elementary school. His mother abandoned him first and walked out, leaving his father to raise him. Whether the experience had soured him on marriage and family altogether, or whether he had simply never possessed any real affection for his child… his father behaved like a truly pathetic parent.
From the time Seong-gyu entered school, his father showed zero interest in what he needed, how he lived, or what he was going through. If the boy ever asked for money for school supplies…
“Dad, I need to buy some materials…”
“Our family is poor, Seong-gyu. We don’t have money. Just borrow from your friends.”
That was the usual response. It was true their household was poor and there wasn’t much to be done about it, but telling a young child in such a cold way was hardly reasonable. Elementary school supplies couldn’t possibly cost that much. Yet his father rarely gave him even that small amount—though he always seemed to have money for alcohol.
Even at that young age, Seong-gyu understood his father’s behavior wasn’t normal. So he gave up on expecting any change and simply endured. He would get scolded by his homeroom teacher for not bringing materials, or face punishment, and the constant borrowing and begging from classmates made the other children look at him strangely.
One day he hadn’t brought modeling clay, and the teacher gave him a severe reprimand. There was no corporal punishment, but she warned him sternly that he had to bring it the next day without fail. Even so, Seong-gyu had no way to obtain the clay. He had already pushed the limits of borrowing from his friends; he couldn’t keep doing it every single day.
On his way to school that morning, he saw classmates his age buying modeling clay at the stationery shop. Watching the kids from his class walk by with the bright white clay in their hands, Seong-gyu felt possessed and stepped inside. He didn’t have the two hundred won it cost, but he picked up a pack anyway. The shop owner was busy dealing with a crowd of children and didn’t seem to notice him at all.
So Mok Seong-gyu did something bad. He knew it was wrong, but the thought that he wouldn’t get in trouble if he brought it made him slip the clay—worth less than five hundred won—into his pocket and walk out.
That day, the teacher didn’t scold him. And after that, like an idiot, he repeated the act from time to time. His conscience kept him from doing it every day, but eventually the frequency increased until it could fairly be called “often.”
Then one day…
“Young man.”
“!”
It was a day he needed a notebook. Seong-gyu was worrying over how to steal something so large compared to modeling clay when the shop owner called out to him.
“Do you need a notebook today?”
“…Excuse me?”
The moment he heard “today,” Seong-gyu wondered if he had heard correctly.
“I asked if you need a notebook for today’s materials.”
“Uh… um… that’s…”
After the second sentence, he was certain. The owner hadn’t simply missed what he was doing. She had noticed everything and had been watching to see how far he would go.
Stealing is a very bad thing. Regardless of an item’s price, it is a crime you must never commit. Taking someone else’s belongings without permission is wrong, and it comes with serious punishment. If you get caught stealing and the police come for you, you might have to pay a fine far larger than the value of what you tried to steal. That would be terrible, wouldn’t it?
The words his teacher had said during ethics class came back to him. Stealing was wrong, and if you were caught you’d have to pay far more than the stolen item was worth. Seong-gyu trembled in fear imagining what his father would do if he found out. He also knew he had no defense if the owner decided to explode in anger right then.
The thought of being scolded by her and then going home to be scolded by his father terrified him. But the words that came back to him left him stunned.
“If you need it, just take it.”
“…Pardon?”
“But you have to tell me first. Taking things secretly is very wrong. It’s called stealing… Have you learned about it in school?”
“…Y-yes…”
“Then you also learned that you shouldn’t steal, right?”
“Yes…”
“So, from now on, which is better—telling this auntie what you need and taking it, or sneaking things like this?”
“…T-telling you… and taking it…”
“Good.”
The owner gently stroked his hair.
“I’m glad you understand that stealing is bad. After school from now on, come tell me what materials you’ll need the next day.”
“…Okay.”
From that day forward, Seong-gyu never missed bringing his materials. The stationery shop owner had not been speaking empty words. Even when his guilty conscience kept him from visiting after school as promised, she would spot him walking home and call him over herself. She would press a small snack into his hand and ask what he needed. With a steady supply of materials, he stopped getting scolded by the teacher. It had never been because he was a bad kid. He no longer had to beg classmates for supplies either. The strange looks they gave him gradually disappeared. He didn’t have to sharpen pencils down to stubs, collect eraser shavings to make new ones, or always use the blank side of used paper in class. The owner took care of everything he needed.
Seong-gyu couldn’t understand why she was so good to him alone. One day he worked up the courage to ask.
“Auntie.”
“Yes?”
“Why do you only take care of me like this?”
“Hehe, Seong-gyu. It’s not just you. There are quite a few other children who can’t prepare their materials either.”
“Really? You take care of all of them?”
“That’s right.”
“Why??”
He couldn’t comprehend it. Even his own father, connected by blood, wouldn’t buy him supplies because they had no money. Why would a complete stranger do so much?
The owner smiled kindly and stroked his hair again.
“It’s better than letting children do bad things, isn’t it?”
“…Huh?”
“Did you choose to be born poor, Seong-gyu? Is it right for children to get scolded by their teacher, feel miserable, and wear sad expressions just because they couldn’t bring one material? Auntie doesn’t think so.”
She spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Her words shocked Seong-gyu. Having grown up watching his father, his view of adults had not been positive. But this woman was completely different from his father.
“So don’t feel uncomfortable. If you need anything, just tell me anytime.”
“…Okay.”
It was hard to believe they were the same kind of adult. That was when Seong-gyu learned what a real grown-up should be. The realization changed his mind about the future; until then he had thought that becoming an adult like his father held no value at all.
Thanks to the owner, Seong-gyu never forgot his materials or lacked gym clothes throughout all of elementary school. As the years passed, his father’s work situation gradually improved. Perhaps because he had some breathing room, his father began paying more attention to him, gave him allowance money, and by fifth and sixth grade Seong-gyu was even able to join field trips and overnight camp programs. From then on the owner accepted payment. Seong-gyu naturally used his allowance to buy things properly. Of course, the allowance wasn’t enough to fully repay everything she had given him freely before, but he did what he could.
Then his father’s business succeeded and the company relocated. Seong-gyu moved with him and had to part with the owner. As life tends to do, the busy days of middle and high school caused him to gradually forget about her. She remained in a corner of his memory, but he didn’t have the luxury to dwell on it.
“…I only thought about visiting her after I became an adult. Looking back now, I was a truly ungrateful person. Even after remembering, I kept thinking I should go, but I was too busy helping with my father’s work… Only after I finally became free did I manage to come.”
“…She must have been incredibly important to you, Mr. Mok Seong-gyu.”
Even Se-hwan felt she more than deserved to be called a benefactor.
“The materials were one thing, but the words she said to me back then became the driving force that let me grow up properly. It’s nothing compared to what she did, but thanks to her I enjoyed helping friends who were struggling during middle and high school.”
“…So that’s why so many people came to your funeral.”
At Seol-hwa’s words, Seong-gyu nodded.
“Something like that. I consider her the person who shaped my life and made me who I am. It’s just… it’s so heartbreaking to see her current condition. She used to remember every child’s name. She would never have forgotten mine… Illness really is terrifying.”
“Then you wanted to say thank you, is that it?”
When Seol-hwa asked, Seong-gyu seemed to ponder for a moment.
“I thought that was my only lingering regret, which is why I asked you, Ms. Baek Seol-hwa. You delivered the message on my behalf, so it should have been resolved, but…”
“Then why are you still unable to leave this world?”
“…I wonder that myself.”
Se-hwan observed Seong-gyu for a moment. What exactly was he still attached to? After thinking deeply, the answer came surprisingly easily once he imagined himself in the man’s place.
“…She was like a mother to you, wasn’t she?”
To a boy who had lost his mother young and grown up under a father who failed to fulfill any proper parental role, she had been the one to teach him what a real adult looked like. Someone who guided him onto the right path and cared for him without expecting anything in return could only be seen as a mother figure.
“Yes?… Ah, now that you say it, that seems accurate.”
Seong-gyu didn’t deny it. To his younger self, she really had been a comforting and grateful presence.
Se-hwan continued. “If the regret of a son who left first is toward someone he saw as a mother, there aren’t many possibilities. This is just my guess, but what I think you wanted from her is…”
Everyone feels the same. They want to be remembered by those they hold dear. Even knowing it might make the other person sad, a human heart can’t help but wish for it.
“You wanted her to remember you.”
“……Ah.”
“What you told Seol-hwa probably covered the whole regret at the time. But seeing the actual situation, she’s in such poor condition that she’s even forgotten your name. So of course you would feel lingering attachment.”
Se-hwan added gently, “You wish you had come a little sooner.”
“……!”
“If you had, you could have met the version of her that still remembered you. Not visiting while you were alive became your final regret.”
Seong-gyu stared at Se-hwan with dazed eyes, as if struck by a hammer. Then he let out a hollow laugh.
“…Haha. I was more selfish than I realized. I thought I had lived my life giving to others.”
“It’s not selfishness. It’s simply human nature.”
“Hearing you say that helps. I really was carrying around a pointless regret.”
When a spirit let go of its lingering attachment, it could naturally move on. That was obvious; the only reason they remained in this world was to resolve those regrets. Once they gave up, there was no longer any reason to stay.
It wasn’t the ideal way to achieve enlightenment, but there was nothing they could do about a dementia patient’s memory. This was the only path left—having Seong-gyu release his regret and depart.
Seol-hwa told him, “Even if her illness makes her unable to remember right now, you are still inside her heart, Seong-gyu.”
“That would be wonderful if true.”
“She loves children. I’m sure you’re still there.”
“…Yes, she is that kind of person.”
Seong-gyu smiled softly.
“She really was a wonderful adult, so I’m sure all the children remain warmly inside her heart.”
It seemed he had let go of every last regret. His legs gradually began turning transparent. The process of crossing over had started. Although Se-a couldn’t see him, she seemed to have grasped the situation from listening to Se-hwan and Seol-hwa’s conversation.
“Safe travels.”
She offered a final farewell.
But at that moment, the stationery shop door suddenly slid open and the owner’s son’s voice rang out.
“Mother, where are you going?!”
“Seong-gyu! Seong-gyu is here! Oh my, you’ve been doing well!”
The one who stepped out was the owner herself. She looked around briefly, then fixed her gaze on Se-hwan—the only man in the group—and said,
“Are you… Are you Seong-gyu?”
“……”
“Mother, not him—the young lady over there is Mok Seong-gyu…”
“What are you saying? Seong-gyu is a boy.”
“Pardon?”
People with dementia don’t forget everything all the time. In severe cases it may seem that way, but otherwise memories can return occasionally. Just moments ago her son had asked her again if she knew the name Mok Seong-gyu. This time, unlike before, she had remembered clearly.
Se-hwan was briefly flustered by the sudden development, but he soon closed his eyes for a moment and spoke calmly.
“You remember the name Mok Seong-gyu?”
“How could I forget you! Oh my, you came at last, Seong-gyu. How have you been? After you moved away I never saw you once, so this auntie worried so much.”
“…You do remember.”
Se-hwan turned his head slightly.
“Clearly.”
Seong-gyu’s form, which had begun disappearing earlier, had now faded all the way up to his neck. But his face still remained. Thanks to that, they could see his final expression. Both Se-hwan and Seol-hwa saw it clearly.
Seong-gyu was smiling with joy. Before he vanished completely—unable to produce a voice any longer—he mouthed his last words.
“……”
And then he was gone.
Mok Seong-gyu crossed over perfectly. All that remained was a small wisp of spiritual energy.
“Seong-gyu, come inside for now. How have you been all this time?”
Seeing the elderly woman who had mistaken him for Seong-gyu and was greeting him so warmly, Se-hwan offered her a gentle smile.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I really wanted to come, but I was so busy I couldn’t manage it.”
“No need to apologize. You have your own life; of course you must have been busy.”
“But I have to leave again soon. I only stopped by to see how you were doing.”
“Oh dear, is that so? How disappointing. Come again when you have time. Let’s have a meal together.”
“I definitely will.”
Se-hwan was not Mok Seong-gyu. Continuing to pretend he was and keep the conversation going would have been disrespectful in many ways. It also wasn’t the proper attitude toward someone who had already left this world. So he chose to act just enough to avoid shocking her and then depart.
But before he left, there was one thing he had to do.
“Auntie.”
“Yes, what is it?”
He would deliver the final words Seong-gyu had wanted to say.
“Thank you so much. Truly.”
And he would convey the spirit’s last message.
“You were like a mother to me.”
Because only someone who could hear the voices of the departed should carry out that duty.
“Is it over now?”
“Yeah.”
While Seol-hwa gathered the spiritual energy, Se-hwan and Se-a started walking back first.
“Did… Mr. Seong-gyu leave properly?”
“He went peacefully.”
“…I see.”
Se-a hadn’t been able to hear the detailed conversation at the end. The spirit’s voice didn’t reach her. But from watching Seol-hwa quietly sobbing, Se-hwan holding back tears while acting as someone else, and the stationery shop owner shedding hot tears after hearing his message, she had felt something.
…So this is what they do.
Se-hwan and Seol-hwa’s exorcisms might seem like small, trivial things, but they were incredibly meaningful.
“Hey, Se-hwan.”
“Hm?”
“You two are both so cool. You and Seol-hwa have been doing this kind of work together.”
Se-a found herself smiling without realizing it.
“It’s really amazing.”
“…Why the sudden praise?”
“Because it’s praise-worthy? I’m so proud of you, our Se-hwan.”
“Proud? What are you, my mom?”
Se-a giggled.
“Can I brag about it to Mom?”
“…I already know she’d be proud too.”
“Right? She must be so proud.”
“It’s not like I’m accomplishing some grand achievement. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
When Se-hwan brushed it off as if it were nothing, Se-a shook her head.
“It may not be some huge achievement, but it’s still a wonderful thing.”
“It doesn’t matter what you think… Besides, this time it was supposed to be Seol-hwa handling it alone.”
“But you usually do it together, right?”
“…It’s not my opinion, it’s all Seol-hwa’s idea. I’m just riding her coattails.”
“Which means Seol-hwa is cool too! But you’re no less cool for doing it with her.”
“……Ah, is that so.”
Se-hwan looked slightly embarrassed and awkward. Se-a wasn’t sure if he found this kind of reaction uncomfortable, but she couldn’t help it.
…Seriously, what am I going to do?
Seeing him do such warm-hearted work made her feelings for him grow even stronger. If she didn’t express it somehow, she felt like she might end up confessing without meaning to.