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Chapter 5

Hae-ju's father, Kang Eun-jong, had no money in his pockets, yet today as well he had come home after cadging drinks from the old men playing janggi at the village entrance. But apparently that wasn't enough for him—he kicked over the dinner table that had no liquor on it, and repaid his young daughter's hard work with violence.

The now-cold soybean paste soup spilled over her head, but Hae-ju, as if accustomed to it, wiped away the broth with a towel and began tidying the disheveled room.

"You wretch! Are my words nothing to you? Go buy me soju!"

"..."

Despite the metallic rasp of her so-called father's outburst, young Hae-ju didn't flinch. Silently, she gathered the shattered bowls onto the tray. Nothing would change by confronting her drunken, raging father.

It was a reality she had learned over the past several years. If there was any consolation, it was that he was doing this at home rather than wandering the streets. Though heat burned behind her eyes, Hae-ju dug her nails into her flesh and quietly continued to clean the room.

"Even you... ignore me. Even you..."

Overcome by the alcohol, her father collapsed limply. Hae-ju, who had finished clearing the table, stood and looked down at him, sprawled and asleep.

Suddenly, she tried to remember the last time he had smiled. Years ago, she recalled, there was a small space between the main room and the veranda where they ran a subcontracting business for a clothing wholesaler. Fleeting memories of happiness, even if they hadn't been wealthy.

Should I go out and see if Dad's coming?

On days when her father returned from the factory with payment, she and her mother used to wait for him in the narrow alley, hearts pounding. Even with their modest means, her father's hands always carried an old-fashioned whole chicken bought from the village entrance.

But three years ago, her mother—who had waited for her father alongside Hae-ju—passed away on a winter night heavy with snow. The father who used to come home with a smiling face and a chicken was no more.

Those distant memories were gradually fading. In this bleak and distorted reality, young Hae-ju simply endured in her own way.

As Hae-ju roughly tidied the room and came out with the tray, the landlady, Ja-young, and the grandmother from the next room were standing in the yard. Embarrassed, she quickly lowered her gaze. Ja-young asked with a worried look, "Are you alright?"

Hae-ju quickly erased the shadow on her face and answered calmly, "I'm... fine."

"No, it's not enough that you're fine. You've only just moved in—how can this be happening already?"

At the old woman's reproach, Hae-ju's face darkened. She was afraid they might be asked to leave because of the noise.

"If this keeps up, I can't live here either. Seok-eon's mother!"

The old woman turned her complaint toward the landlady. Hae-ju stood helpless, unable to say anything. Ja-young gently stroked Hae-ju's shoulder.

"Scolding the child won't solve anything. I'll talk to her father tomorrow morning. You go on in and rest, ma'am."

Contrary to Hae-ju's fears, Ja-young pacified the old woman and sent her back to her room. In the quiet that followed, she murmured to herself, "He seemed so composed when he came to see the place..."

Watching the landlady gaze worriedly toward her father's room, Hae-ju grew anxious and bowed her head repeatedly.

"It's because of the drinking. He's gone to sleep now, so there won't be any more noise. I'm truly sorry."

The words were remarkably mature for a child, almost unsettling. Ja-young looked down at the girl's excuse with a mixture of disbelief and pity.

"Does your father do this often?"

"No... he doesn't."

It was a lie. But besides lying, there was no way to escape the present reality. Ja-young studied the child's face with concern.

Hardship makes children grow up fast. She wondered if perhaps she had been wrong to take three months' rent in advance, but seeing this child so overly mature, she also felt guilty for having thought that way.

"Give me that."

Snapping out of her hesitation, Ja-young took the tray from the child and headed toward the kitchen.

"Thank you."

Left alone in the yard, Hae-ju finally let out a breath of relief. Just then, she caught sight of Seok-eon peeking through the door of the landlord's house, staring at her.

When their eyes met, the boy quickly shut the door. Feeling as though her shame had been fully exposed, Hae-ju too turned away hastily.

---

By the time the final month of the advance rent was nearly over, the lush greenery that had wrapped the village had lost its vigor, and the oppressive summer heat had begun to ease.

"I'm going to school."

Hae-ju, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she left the room, offered the greeting out of habit. But no answer came from within.

Her father had left home some time ago; it had already been ten days with no word from him. Such disappearances were not particularly surprising to her.

Instead, she simply waited for time to pass, and eventually her drunken father would show up—disheveled, but with a half-moon-shaped bread in hand—and return home as if nothing had happened.

She had hoped moving might change things, but nothing had improved. The old cellphone, their only means of contact, had long been disconnected for nonpayment of bills.

"Still no news of your father?"

Ja-young, washing dishes in the yard, called out to Hae-ju as she was about to leave for school.

"No... not yet."

Worried that this might be the day she would be asked to pay the rent, Hae-ju spoke cautiously, "...But he'll be back soon. He always is."

Her father was timid. After her mother left, that tendency had worsened. Whenever the stifling reality frustrated him, he would suddenly leave home and disappear for days at a time.

"No, even so—how can he leave a child all alone!"

Hae-ju, at Ja-young's clattering concern, forced herself to reply calmly, as if nothing were wrong. "I'm fine. But when my father returns, the rent..."

"A child shouldn't be talking about such things! The adults will handle it. You just focus on your studies!"

Ja-young realized anew that the reason for her frequent sighs lately was the child before her. At twelve years old, this girl quietly carried on with her duties despite her parents' absence—watching her stirred a deep sense of pity.

At the same time, Ja-young couldn't help thinking that if her miscarried child had survived, he would have been around this girl's age. She found herself opening the door each day to check on her.

"But still..."

"Stop with the useless talk and get to school."

Having said that, Ja-young glanced around and muttered, "That Seok-eon was right here until just now, saying he was going to school—did he already leave? Or if they go to the same school, what harm would there be in walking together? Honestly, he never listens to me. That child of mine."

Shaking her head at her son's defiance, Ja-young sighed. But Hae-ju knew—the bickering mother and son actually cared deeply for each other. Everyone in the village knew it.

"Hae-ju."

The child, about to leave, flinched and cautiously turned around. Displeased by the girl's startled reaction—like a frightened fawn—Ja-young found herself blurting out an offer she hadn't even planned.

"...Until your father comes back, how about you eat with us starting today? Would that be alright?"

Still startled by the sudden proposal, the child asked suspiciously, "Is it... really okay?"

"Of course. It's just one extra spoon at our table. Starting today, we'll do that."

"...Th-thank you."

Hae-ju bowed deeply in thanks. At last relieved, Ja-young gave the child a gentle smile.

"There's nothing to be so grateful for..."

"I'll be going to school now."

The girl's somber face brightened, and she smiled cheerfully as she left the house—for once, the expression of a child her age. Ja-young's lips curled slightly in response.

Stepping outside, Hae-ju walked down the alley with a lighter step. Not far ahead, she spotted the shaven-headed boy in his taekwondo uniform, trudging along.

It was Lee Seok-eon. A smile tugged at Hae-ju's lips.

The two of them had ended up at the same elementary school, but contrary to her expectations, the landlord's son, Lee Seok-eon, spoke little and rarely met her eyes.

Still, she had a vague sense of it—that Seok-eon circled around her, stealing glances when he thought she wasn't looking.

Once, she had pretended to look away, then quickly turned to stare straight at him. Caught off guard, he had fallen backward with a thump.

How she had laughed at that. Even now, Seok-eon was sneaking a glance at her, then pretending otherwise and walking a few steps ahead.

Fool. Coward.

Hae-ju deliberately stopped walking. The boy, who had been striding forward, stopped as if he had eyes in the back of his head, then looked around and pretended to be distracted.

Suddenly wanting to tease him, Hae-ju gripped her shoe bag tightly. Taking a deep breath, she began to run down the alley.

As she dashed past him, Seok-eon let out an "Oh!" A strange thrill ran through her at finally getting a reaction.

She turned back defiantly and stuck out her tongue at him. The flustered look on his face was clear.

Hae-ju laughed brightly, teasing him, then turned and sprinted toward school. Snapping out of his daze at the sight of her running into the distance, Seok-eon too clenched his fists and began to run.

The taekwondo boy was ferociously fast. Within moments, he overtook her. This time, Seok-eon leaped high into the air, flashing her a triumphant, wide grin.

He soared effortlessly to his own height, looking so light and joyful. Seeing him smile so openly at her, Hae-ju beamed back.

It was one of the few happy days of her life.

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