I was envious of you.

Everything that you have, everything that you don’t have, there was
nothing that I didn’t envy. One day, the past came to me. You said you wanted to succeed.
You seemed to be so full of confidence and energy that you didn’t need any outside help,
and you seemed to have nothing to do with the depression or anxiety of youth. Even when
you were wearing a loose hooded t-shirt and knee-jerk jeans all the time, you shone brightly.
Even when you were poor, small, and ugly, it was an ornament that made you sparkle.
When I saw you like that, I felt sorry for my twenties, who only wanted it to pass by so
quickly because I couldn’t stand it made me envy your youth and dreams.
Chapter 1
Chapter 1: A Hard-cover Biography
The three sides of the periodical room of the city library were surrounded by bookshelves
with bound books. The bookshelves, which were built in layers, created several narrow
passages that stretched deep into the reading room. When I went to the library for the first
time in my life, I couldn't step anywhere. I felt like if I had stepped in the wrong way, I would
get lost or run into something I shouldn't have encountered. The old newspapers were
bound with dark blue hardboard covers and were placed on the shelves of the deepest wall
in the reading room. I went inside the bookshelf looking for a newspaper published in the
year I was born. The more I went inside, the darker the blue cover gradually became more
and more pale, and the gold leaf indicating the name and year of the newspaper was
scattered. I walked down the aisle, checking the year with the remaining gold leaf and
bumps. The shelf ended up in a newspaper in January 1988. At the back of the bookshelf,
there were other newspapers published in 1987 lined up. Even though I looked around the
shelves several times, drunk with the smell of newspapers that were less than 20 years old, I
couldn't find any newspapers before 1988.

The area around the desk next to the entrance door was crowded with people coming in and
out. People either went inside and took a seat or took a yellow envelope from a young man
librarian and went outside. The male librarian seemed busy answering questions from those
who were asking. Next to him sat a gray-haired female librarian. She was reading a red-
cover book with glasses on the tip of her nose and her head bowed as if her forehead could
touch the desk, and at first glance, she looked drowsy, so I couldn't talk to her. While people
were quiet for a while, I asked the male librarian for the location of the newspaper published
in 1983. He said that all newspapers that were 20 years old were kept in the basement and
could be viewed on microfilm. I nodded even though I didn't know what microfilm was.

"What kind of newspaper do you need? Please write your name and resident registration
number here."

"I need all of the 1983 newspapers. I have some data to look for."

It seemed strange to ask for too many newspapers, so he emphasized that he did not want
to idle while looking for them. He brought me a microfilm and a viewer from one side of the
reading room.

"It's the paper distribution period in the afternoon, so a lot of people will come and go. Please
go inside and have a seat."

Unlike the entrance, the inside of the reading room was quiet. On the east wall with a long
and narrow grid window, there was a low magazine stand and people were sitting here and
there reading newspapers and magazines at six-person placed in front of it. I wished to sit by
the window of the sunny library during the day, reading a magazine and walking in the
hallways of museums where there were no people. Perhaps it was my longing that made me
envious of people who spent their days leisurely in the library. I didn't seem right to sit
among them, so I settled down at the window near the desk. In an unfamiliar place called a
library, I started reading the newspaper on January 1, 1983, with an odd object called
microfilm. This was the first thing I did after quitting my job.
Newspapers were written vertically. Even though I only read the social section, I hardly
made any progress. I hadn't looked at the letter for a long time and everything in the library
was unfamiliar to me, so it was hard to concentrate. Behind the desk, there was a long
bookshelf with glass doors, and there were many books with red covers were stacked inside.
While handling out the papers to people, the male librarian pulled out the books from the top
compartment with his hands wearing white cotton gloves and put them one by one in the
cart. On the side of the book bound with a red cover, the name of the person and the
number of years of birth and death were engraved in gold leaf. The male librarian moved
was quick but it took a long time to empty a bookshelf as he dealt with visitors. Even in the
midst of that rush, the female librarian didn't take her eyes off the book. I didn't even finish
reading the two-month newspaper until the closing time. There were no articles appeared on
the case of abandonment of newborns. As I returned the film, the written in gothic black on
the yellow paper envelope handed out by the man caught my eyes.

Free service for those who want to disappear legally

For some reason, it was a lengthy title that felt lame. I asked the man.

"What kind of documents are there so many people who take them?"

"It's a free service application for people who want to legally disappear from the world. We
accept applications once every two years, but there are a lot of people because it's only
available here. Should I explain it? "

The man answered as quickly as he did, and pointed to the large bookshelf on the backwall
of the desk.

"No, it's okay. I was just wondering"

The man handed me a leaflet. For a brief moment, I was tempted by the word "free," but
neither "disappear" nor "legal" had a red taste to them. Why the hell do they want to
disappear from the world? At a time when it disappeared, I couldn't understand what it was
like to be illegal and what it was to be legal. I want to live as much as possible to find out
where I was born and how I got here. I crumpled the leaflet and randomly put it into my bag.

Mom was lying in the living room. I almost stepped on my mom without recognizing her at a
glance. I make such a mistake sometimes. Mom was drunk and there was a bottle of wine
rolling on the floor. In the front part of the pink silk blouse that I bought on a three-month
instalment plan, there was a red stain of wine.

"Unnie, I'll make you dinner. You working so hard to earn money."

My mom mistook me for my deceased aunt. After waking up from her sleep, she came to
prepare the dinner table trembling in Busan. As soon as I put a spoonful of the steaming
stew in my mouth, I spat it out. The stew was sour. Even though she saw me like that, my
mom smiled and took her bottle of liquor to her mouth. I was sick of Mom's smiling face. I
took the alcohol from Mom's hand and poured it into the sink. And all the remaining alcohol
could be found in the refrigerator. I poured it out. Mom rushed to me and hit me on the back
of my head and said,

"This is all because of you. You've ruined everything."

I stood still, holding onto the sink with my back turned to her. She slapped me on the back of
my head, but her anger didn't go away. Then she kicked my calves several times. Mom soon
lost her strength and hung on my shoulder. I dragged her into the room and sat her down.
My mom screamed.

"Why are you doing this, Unnie?" Do you think I'll leave him alone when he comes? I'll close
my eyes this time. Please open the door."

The thought of wanting to grab Mom's messy hair and beat her down came rushing back
and forth. I closed Mom's door tightly and managed to swallow the thought of being pushed
toward my fingertips. Mom tried to open the door and swear at me, but I stood leaning back
against the door and refused to open it.

"Go to sleep. Don't keep making noise. "

Mom seemed to give up quickly after bumping herself against the door a few times. After a
while, I opened the door and saw Mom was lying still on the floor and staring blankly at the
ceiling. When Mom made eye contact with me, she laughed as if nothing had happened. But
I knew it wasn't about recognizing me. My eyes were tired and it was hard to tell the
difference between my lying mom and the floorboard, so there was nothing to be sad or
upset about. It's not that Mom didn't recognize it from the beginning. At first, there was a very
small amount of time, she mistook me for someone else and forgot what she did, but she
didn't take it too seriously. The doctor said it was a memory disorder caused by a long-term
drinking habit and recommended hospitalization treatment at an early stage because it
would get worse and worse in the future. The only money that we had was a monthly rent
deposit, and we barely managed to live on my salary, so we couldn't even afford to be
hospitalized. My mother yelled, saying that she could quit drinking on her own will, and I
didn't believe that, but pretended to believe it since it didn't cost any money right away.
However, Mom showed no sign of trying. I wasn't even getting upset because it was
somewhat expected. Soon after, Mom became unable to remember more and more, and the
time she didn't recognize me became longer. One day, Mom said to me when I was making
breakfast and leaving for work,

"Why are you being so nice to me, young lady?"

After that, Mom never recognized me again and called me several titles, including Unnie,
Ajumma, and Agassi. And she hardly ever left the house. The situation wasn't that bad. Our
living expenses had been cut by a third thanks to my mom, who doesn't go around. I started
saving for the first time since my card was no longer charged, except for the fur coat Mom
bought on a 12-month instalment plan. The price of alcohol that Mom received on credit was
nothing more than a penny compared to what she had spent so far. After paying the rent and
spending a little on living expenses, I saved a large sum of money for about a year and then
quit my job.
The reason I worked was not for grand reasons such as joy of work or self-fulfillment, but for
the simple reason that I had no choice but to starve if I didn't earn money. After the divorce,
Mom stayed in the house and only drank alcohol. And if she went out, she didn't come back
for a long time. Although she had to make a living on borrowed money from here and there,
Mom's spending grew. Eventually, when I was in middle school, I sold the 20-pyeong
Jugong apartment that my dad left for child support and paid off the light. Mom didn't care
about me so much that it made me wonder why she didn't abandon me. I often starved
myself when I was in middle school, so I worked part-time at a fast food restaurant during
vacations. I went on to a night class at a women's business high school, which gave me a
scholarship on the recommendation of a teacher who felt pity for me because I had no way
of paying for tuition. During the day, I worked part-time at a men's high school canteen, and
during the vacation, I delivered food from a rib restaurant. The boys called me "Bbangsoon"
and the kitchen ladies called me "Maknae". Before graduating from high school, I got a job at
a small-to-medium-sized clothing company in the industrial complex on the outskirts. I spent
six years there as "Ms. Kim", who worked on computers, copied, and made coffee. I worked
overtime every three days and stayed up all night once a week to check the inventory of the
warehouse. There were many times when my salary was not enough, so on weekends I
worked part-time as a helper at a wedding hall.

"I'm so glad you made money. What to do even if it's hard? You have to repay me for raising
you this much if you're a person. "

When I made money, Mom finally showed interest in me. On payday, she even cooked rice
and massaged my swollen legs. All of the salary went into the mom's credit card along with
pocket money used for household expenses to cover her living expenses. I had little money
left in my hands and my life didn't improve at all, but I enjoyed my payday the most. I was as
happy as I was when my dad sent me a letter from Saudi Arabia. When Mom lost her
memory, her financial pain disappeared, and at the same time, her happiness, which she
only had once a month, also disappeared. I didn't want to earn any more money for a mom
who couldn't even know who I was. When I resigned without notice after working hard for six
years without being absent or leaving early, both my boss and employees just asked me why
I was leaving, but they did not try to hold me. People asked if I had won the lottery or gotten
married, assuming that a new life awaited me and wishing me the best of luck in the future. I
didn't even know what to do with that old and worn-out life, let alone start a new one.

I woke up an hour later than when I usually leave for work and walked slowly toward the
library. No matter how slow I walked, I had to wait more than 30 minutes for the reading
time. I sat on the bench in the library garden, enjoying my breakfast with sandwiches and
canned coffee, and looked at the young and old droopy students passing by with their
heavy-looking bags. Their unopened eyes looked more lively than those of people who had
fallen asleep while standing on the commuter bus. The librarians came to work around 8:40
and opened the reading room before 9:00. I rented a 1983 microfilm and a viewer and sat in
the library's window.

Early in the morning, sitting alone in a frighteningly quiet place made me feel like I was left
alone in the world. To get rid of the feeling, I concentrated on reading microfilm. As time
went by, I got used to the vertical writing and realized that I only had to read the headlines
and the beginning of the articles, so I could read all the newspapers for a year in five days.
None of the newspapers I read reported such a case of the abandonment of a newborn.
Instead of feeling relieved that there was no such article, it only grew my anxiety. Other than
newspapers, in 1983, I even started reading published newspapers. If I couldn't find it there,
I was going to look for newspapers published in 1982. It was Mom who made things
complicated. My resident numbers start with 83, but my mom said that, according to her
preferences, I was born in 1982 and then in 1983 as well. When I pointed out Mom's
inconsistent words, she got angry.

"Ah, I don't know. I don't know. What's important about that? "

I couldn't really tell if Mom was lying or she couldn't remember.

By the time I got used to it in the library, the two librarians were the first people I went to see
to rent a microfilm, and they pretended not to recognize me. It was rare for a person like me
to sit in one place for a long time in a periodical room. They were usually people who came
to receive documents and readers who left quickly after reading newspapers or magazines.
The male librarian continued to be busy organizing books and answering questions from
those who came to collect the documents, whereas, in contrast, the female librarian seemed
to be idle. I only kept reading books with red covers, and sometimes I typed something into
the computer. As the closing time approached and everyone was leaving, the male librarian
handed me a cup of coffee after going to the bathroom. The female librarian had asked me
why I looked so hard at the newspaper every day. She didn't seem to be asking a question
for an answer, so I said I was just looking for my article. She said she could help me.

"My job is to remember the contents of the bindings here, so it could be helpful. I used to be
in charge of the contents of the newspapers and magazines, but now the computer does it,
and now I only remember the contents of that hardcover book. Well, I remember every
newspaper article before 1998, so I can help.

"How do you remember all those events? There is even someone who doesn't even
remember their family. Is that possible?"

"Of course. That's my job. Actually, there are only a few kinds of events that happen. Time,
place, and people are the only things that will be different. Aside from that, it's all the same
thing, so it's not a big deal. I'm actually a person who sometimes forgets my name or home
phone number. I even forgot my child's name. "

Our giggle spread through the empty library books. I felt as if I were a part of a library.

"Do you happen to know any newborn abandoned cases in 1982 or 1983?"

She took a short breath and answered with a firm voice.

"There was no such incident. The first case of a newborn abandoned appeared in 1988. In
the 1990s, many children were thrown away in public toilets, lockers, garbage dumps, and
so on. But in the early 1980s, obviously not. You won't find it even if you look for it. "
I was grateful to her for not asking why, but I couldn't believe her memory. For the next few
days, I rented a microfilm and kept on looking for the newspapers in 1982, but as she said, I
couldn't find any articles regarding the newborn abandonment cases.

In 1982 or 1983, I was not born yet. At the back of the street lined with inns, pigeons flocked
to the burst of the garbage bag. My real mother, a girl who was someone's daughter at the
time, nauseous at the sour smell of the alley and walked out of the alley while her feet
avoided the water flowing from the garbage if it spilled on the white basketball shoes that
she took from a high school girl of her age.

"I don't feel good inside. It really makes me crazy. "

One of the men, who might have been my dad, who couldn't sleep because of the girl who
whined every 30 minutes, yelled, "Let's go to a pharmacy or something," and as soon as
dawn came, the girl went to the pharmacy near the inn. She didn't even know that she was
pregnant. She took two pills of digestive medicine drink along with the digestive drink. Even
then, she still didn't feel well, so she took the pills at every meal. But she never got well, and
I was born at last, and was soon dumped in a public toilet's trash can. I managed to survive
because the cleaning lady found me with dirty tissues all over my body. No matter how hard
the doctor beat me in the ass, I closed my eyes and didn't cry. My birth, which saved my
tears, was recorded on the social page of the morning paper the next day.

My mom told me this was the whole story of my birth. After my dad left home, Mom gave me
an arm pillow every night and told me old stories like reading fairy tales. Mom began the
story of a bad girl and gradually added weight to the story. I was afraid of the story, so I
closed my eyes tightly and pretended to be asleep, but my mom didn't stop talking. On the
day Dad came back for a while, packed his things and left to leave us forever, Mom's story
was completed. While patting my head on the knee, Mom said, "It's your birth mother's story.
I'm not your real mother. If I knew this would happen, I wouldn't have brought you here. "

Mom's hand rested heavily on her head. I don't even understand half of her story and I don't
believe it. "That's a lie, right? "You're lying, aren't you?" I asked. My questions turned to
tears, and until the crying stopped, my mom only stroked my head without answering. When
the sobbing had completely stopped, she answered me. How I wish it were a lie.

And she smiled whitely at me. After that day, I stopped crying. However, somehow I thought
I knew the reason why the bathroom felt so comfortable. Eventually, Mom and Dad divorced,
and Mom no longer told me stories and gave me her arm pillow. I couldn't believe my mom's
story, and I didn't want to make sure it was true. When I entered middle school, I was
recorded as my father's biological child in the draught of the resident registration that I
submitted. I just decided to believe that. I wanted Dad to take me with him, but he never
came back.

The house was all lit and the television was on, but I couldn't see Mom. When I rubbed my
tired eyes and looked closely, Mom was sitting against the wall in the master bedroom.
Mom's t-shirt embroidered with Ivy Vines was buried between the patterns on the wallpaper,
and her face was yellowed like old wallpaper. As the night fell, Mom came over to my room
and she lay next to me. She didn't know who I was, and she dug into my side.
"Eomma, was Young-ji born in 1983?"

Mom looked up, pondered and replied.

"Um … Young-ji… Let's see… Who is that? By the way, when is Dae-kyung coming?"

It reminded me of my mom becoming a red hardcover book and being stuck in the library
bookshelf. I thought I understood why the word "legitimate" was used. I covered Mom with a
blanket and said,

"Your ex-husband? He denies it's his birthday today and he said he had dinner with his son.
His son is already in high school and he's just like his dad."

Mom sat up and slapped me.

"It's all because of you, Unnie. Get out of my house before he comes back."

I pretended not to hear it and said,

"How does a dead person come back from Saudi Arabia? You seemed can't to remember
but he was crushed to death by steel. He's never coming back. You don't even know that like
an idiot."

I was quite fond of myself for being able to say that without hesitation. The incoherent lie
made Mom sad as if Dad had died. I couldn't understand Mom's strange obsession with dad.
"It's not your dad fault." Mom used to say it, but I couldn't accept it. Because it was Dad who
abandoned us.

The last time I saw Dad was right before the start of the first summer vacation in middle
school. There were many days when Mom was away for a long time and stayed alone at
home.

"Eomma, I have to pay for the supplementary tuition fee to school and also the rice has run
out. Please call me when you hear this.

No matter how many times I recorded it on the pager, Mom didn't answer and didn't return
for several days. I bought cornbread for 200 won for lunch and cooked 100 won of ramen at
my house. There is only a coupon ticket left in the pocket. I had no relatives to ask for help,
and I had no choice but to visit my dad since I had moved a lot and I knew no one around.
My dad, who was in a new car, changed his face brightly and I could easily recognize him.
Dad carefully looked at me, who was waving my hand like he saw a person for the first time.

"Oh, I didn't recognize you because you were too big."

We sat on the bench and Dad gave me a straw of chocolate milk.

"I have no legal responsibility to support you. I paid for all the child support. I'm sorry that I
couldn't help you anymore. It's not hard to give you some money right now, but it's a bad
habit. There's nothing good for you."

Dad couldn't have known that the given money was more important to me than good habits.
I hurriedly boarded the bus heading home without saying anything to Dad, who looked
embarrassed. Thankfully, Dad stood in place and gave me a hand until the bus left, but I
wasn't a child who was moved by that. I threw away the two useless vouchers along with my
dad. The coupon ticket was a bit more of a waste.

I staggered in and said that to Mom, who had stumbled in drunk.

"Dad is the son of a dog."

Mom threw away the shopping bag she was carrying, pulled out the vacuum cleaner, and hit
me in the ass.

"A spoiled brat. A clueless bitch."

Mom growled like a dog.

"Dad is a son of a dog. I'll not say it again since it will dirty my mouth. " I yelled louder.

I told my mom, who was tired of hitting, asked me why I said that, but I didn't say that I met
my dad.

"Your dad has no fault. It's all our fault. "

I was very angry at Mom for dragging me too. Mom took out some clothes and a checkered
bra that she didn't need at the time from the department store shopping bag. I don't need
clothes because I'm wearing a school uniform. I asked Mom to pay for the supplementary
class fee.

"Oh, I'm sorry. There's no money." Mom replied, but she didn't really seem apologetic at all.

I pulled out two microfilms and a thin film and spent the day sitting by the window inside the
periodicals room for weeks. Just looking at the microfilm made me feel stuffy, but there was
nothing else to do. I sat still with my eyes fixed on the movement of the sunlight sliding deep
into the aisle of the bookshelf. The sound of air rushing into the aisle and the sound of paper
rustling tickled my ears pleasantly. The library is more comfortable than anywhere I stayed,
and if I was to be left alone in the world, I didn't want to remain there and be discovered by
anyone forever. On my way home, I got a copy of the service application form from a male
librarian and asked,

"Isn't this different from dying?"

"Of course. Anyone who lives a hard life can think of death. But dying isn't a hard thing. So,
there are offenders who call themselves suicide helpers and middle-age brokers. This
service has adopted a method of extracting individual memories and leaving them in
hardcover books. The extracted memory is transplanted into the chip on the cover, and at
the same time, it is recorded as a book, so that it can be viewed only by authorized objects.
Even though the body disappears, the mind remains within the bounds of memories. In the
past, all the memories were left due to a lack of technology, but since 2001, you can choose
which memories you want to stay in. The library makes the content of the memory into a
database and preserves it forever. The government only legalized this. In fact, all the similar
prescriptions made by companies are actually illegal."

He answered as skillfully as an answering machine. Then he said that it would be better to

quit if it was a red-headed thought. He also said, "If it is not a special case, it will generally
pass, but the probability of the 20s passing is not very high, so don't expect much.

My mom didn't eat anything, and I only went back and forth between the library and the
house, so it cost me a little money to live. When the severance pay ran out, I tried to get a
part-time job, and it seemed that there would be no problem for a while. When I told Mom to
eat some food, she rushed me to let her go. Mom was so weak that it didn't hurt at all when
she hit me.

"Fine, your husband wants you to starve to death."

I said that on a daily basis, and I didn't feel any guilt.

"You're lying, right?"

Mom flashed her eyes and ran to me.

"How good it would be if it were a lie."

I smiled broadly at my mom. Mom hung on me and sniffed.

"Don't just keep crying. Please try to remember me. Then I'll quit. "

I pushed Mom away coldly. In the end, she didn't even remember me for a single moment. I
wrote Mom's name in the compartment of the application for the document I brought. In the
document, there was a space to write the applicant's biography, the reason for the
application, and the memories that they wanted to leave behind. Filling it in seemed to be
easier than making Mom remember me.

Just as Mom doesn't recognize me, I gradually don't recognize Mom. I couldn't tell the
difference between the wall and Mom, or the mat and Mom. Sometimes, I stepped on Mom's
legs or stepped on her hair while she was lying down. I stepped on it and passed by it
without realizing what I was stepping on. Mom seemed to be nowhere in the house, but she
appeared everywhere. Mom gently stroked my half-asleep head and began telling her
stories about my future.

"You will grow old lonely and lonely. I'll leave you soon, and no one will look after you."
Mom whispered in words that I wouldn't understand even if I blocked my ears. I couldn't bear
it and tried to drag her out of the house, but each time she got out of my hand and seeped
into somewhere in the house. When I caught her eye, I tried my best to catch her, but I
couldn't catch her. Mom didn't catch my eyes easily. The deadline for filing the paper was
drawing near, but I couldn't fill in any blanks in the document. Come to think of it, I knew very
little about Mom. Mom, who had been in a quarrel several times with me, no longer
appeared in front of me. Imitating my invisible mom was impossible and pointless.
Eventually, I was abandoned again, and my birth also stopped in a labyrinth. It was nothing
new, so I wasn't sad. It was just unbearably boring.

I simply packed my things. I didn't intend to go back home again. I didn't want to pay any
monthly rent or living expenses for Mom anymore. After all, I'm not in her family register, nor
is the house rented in my name, so even if the owner comes and finds us, it's okay enough
to say that I don't know. I took the stamp book and album out of the closet and put them in
my bag. Mom, who had been silent until then, jumped out of the kitchen wall, grabbed my
bag and stretched it out. I pushed her, who kept rushing into my bag and ran out of the
house. The stamp book and album were proof that I had happy days too, so I didn't want to
give it up.

My dad was working in Saudi Arabia when I was born. For a time, I was able to talk to Dad
on the phone, and he sent me letters once or twice a week. The letter that Mom read to me
ended with the sentence that she always loved me. Dad enclosed a picture for me, who
couldn't read. The photos of the sky, desert, market scenery, or dad's accommodation were
attached to the album preciously. Mom said Dad would be a photographer. When Mom
lavered the envelope with the rice cooker and peeled off the stamp, I inserted the stamp into
the stamp book. A stamp depicting the king's face with a moustache and a white gutra in the
background of a port, an oasis, or a rise of relics. I didn't want to see the king's moustache,
so I wanted Dad to come back soon. Dad, who used to come back for a while, bought us a
Nikon camera. I was unfamiliar with and scared of Dad's caramel-black shiny face, so I ran
away to avoid taking pictures. When Dad left, I missed him again. Mom read me a letter at
night or told me about Arabian Nights, where Dad played the main character. On sunny
days, I took pictures in the yard, playground, or room and sent them to dad, and I put the
remaining pictures in the album and wrote down the date. When I was in elementary school,
Dad returned to Korea permanently. It was a pity that I couldn't collect more pictures that
Dad took and I couldn't hear Mom's story in bed, but I happily welcomed him. But when Dad
left home for good, Mom began whispering a story of a scary girl in my ear.

I went to the official office in Seoul's center after leaving the house and obtained a copy of
the family registration. I was still listed as Dad's daughter, and there was no one else in the
family register except me. It took less than two hours to find Dad's house. He was running a
small photo studio in the neighborhood on the outskirts of town. I wandered between the
photo studio and the bus stop several times. When I opened the door of the photo studio, I
saw a skinny man with his bangs just starting to fall off. He was listening to the radio. He
asked my name if he thought I was the guest who went to find the film. When I said my
name, he spoke in a calm, smooth voice, out of tune with the look of surprise.

"Oh, it's Young-ji. You look like a different person that I can't even recognize. How did you
know about this place?"
I said something I didn't intend to come because I didn't want him to misunderstand that the
visit was because I needed money just like I did when I was younger.

"You might be surprised, but Mom is home and I left her."

"In today's world, it has become a desk, a shoe rack, and there are some people who
disappear completely without leaving a name. Is your mom okay with that?"

He gave me a chair and a cold drink and answered differently. I was offended by that
attitude.

"Do you need to hate me that much? It's been a long time since we separated."

"You, don't think about anything else. Keep an eye on it. Maybe she's hiding somewhere
else and pretending to be home. Because she's a person who can tell lies like that."

"I'm tired of Mom's lies, too. But, don't you think she can lie on that? "

"When it's a no-way, then we'll fall for it. I didn't fall for it because I was a fool. What more
can I say to a woman who lied about having my child and even married her?"

Contrary to what I had guessed, I had thought that Mom and Dad would have adopted
together, but the fact that Mom had a child was a bit hopeful. I was a hundred percent
convinced that that kid was me, but I acted like it wasn't and said,

''I know it too, but what did you fall for… That I wasn't your child?"

He looked at me with a puzzled look.

"You didn't know that yet?"

He opened and closed his lips several times, as if he wanted to speak, and managed to get
his words out in the end.

"I thought your mother would have told you, but I guess she hasn't. How can a woman who
hasn't even had a baby in her belly have a baby? When I asked to break up, she desperately
held me back, saying that she had a baby. I should have suspected it when I was sent to
Saudi Arabia before the child grew inside her, but anyway, I spent all my youth in the desert
trying to make money, and look, my life was messed up."

I sat calmly, nodding my head. There was silence for a while. Dad looked at me in the face
while fiddling with the empty film canister.

"It's not important, but I do have a curiosity about something. Who am I? "

"Well, I don't know. It's been a while, so I don't remember. It would be faster if you asked
your mother or aunt. You're not my blood anyway."
My aunt had already died and Mom was home, so there was no place to ask. I thought I
could understand his anger, but I couldn't believe what he was saying. It could have been a
story he made up to relieve his guilt for not fulfilling his responsibilities. For me, I didn't know
if Dad was honest or not. Anyway, after hearing that I wasn't my dad's bloodline, I felt
relieved as I had cut off the tangled string.

"It had nothing to do with my will, but I'm sorry for ruining your life."

I wasn't really sorry for his pettiness, but I thought it would be easier to apologize. Then he
waved his hand loudly as if he were embarrassed.

"It's not your fault, so don't say that. I'm already running a photo studio right now, so it's
okay. Still, when I was in Saudi Arabia, I was able to endure it because of you. I'm sorry that
this happened."

He looked down at the floor for a while, crushing only the container of the baby flower, and
offered to take an ID photo. I said I'd just go, but he turned on the lights and finally sat me in
the studio chair. I looked straight ahead and smiled slightly, and Dad said he liked my
expression and pressed the shutter several times. My eyes sting at the flashing flash. He
patted me on the back as he got up from his seat, telling me to stop by for the pictures a few
days later.

I decided to disappear legally from the world. If it's here or not, it's much more economical to
disappear. It took longer than I thought to fill out the application form. I filled in the parts
where I wrote my biography first. As I wrote, I thought I might be eliminated because my life
was not that happy and too plain, so I inserted my birth in the trash can. Strangely enough,
the scene came to mind more vividly than I had ever actually experienced. Several things
came to mind about the justification that had to be bound, but I simply wrote it down for
economic reasons. It was most difficult to choose and write down the memories that I
wanted to leave. I wanted to stay with happy memories if possible. I thought of such a
moment, but it was nothing more than a fuse and evoked bad memories. I erased most of
my memories, and I spent the time sitting by the library window, deciding to leave only the
time. During the week of filling out the form, I was excited as if I had dreamed of binding for a
long time. I finished the application in time for the deadline on the last day.

The male librarian received more than 3,000 applications, but it seems that there were about
2,000 applicants. Two days later, a special article about the service appeared in the
newspapers. I put aside long articles such as pros and cons and sociological analysis of this
service and only looked at the applicant statistics. There were more unemployed or
homeless people than during the IMP, and as always, there were many youths who had
been broken-hearted or lost their spouses, and that they didn't want to live for no reason.
What's different from other years was that there was a noticeable increase in the number of
senior citizens in their 70s or early 30s who were preparing for employment. Surprisingly, it
was very rare for terminally ill patients or people with disabilities to apply. I thought I might
not have enough qualifications compared to other people. I was nervous because I said that
once I was eliminated, I would not be given a chance again. I didn't know what to do if I
failed.
Every day, in the corner of the periodical room of the library, I sat by the window overlooking
the garden, rummaging through the newspapers and waiting for the announcement. Those
who passed the first round of screening were announced within three days. It didn't take long
to pick out only those who were ineligible on paper. Two-thirds of them passed the first
document screening. I was also on the list of successful applicants. He said that among
those who passed the document screening, fewer than 100 of them were in their twenties.
Young people, who usually get rejected from the document screening, sit in the corner of the
library's periodicals room, by the window with a view of the garden, rummaging through the
newspapers and waiting for the announcement. Those who passed the first round of
screening were announced within three days. It didn't take long as only unqualified
applicants on paper were selected. Two-thirds of them passed the first round of screening. I
was also on the list of successful candidates. The reason for this was that it was greater than
the loss that would occur if they vanished. It took five more days to go through the
background checks of those who passed the first round, and about a third of them were
rejected in the process. It was a type that caused damage to others, like someone who went
bankrupt and tried to escape, or a person who lost a lot of light, and the contents and actual
contents of the written documents were completely different, so the possibility of using them
as a crime was suspected. In the end, there were about 800 people left, and I was the 221st
of them. A notice was posted that 30 people per day would be bound. I was on the list for the
eighth day.

On the day of the final announcement, I stopped by my house for a while. I didn't go
because I missed Mom or I had lingering feelings at home. The front door was locked and
didn't open. I barely opened the window that faced the alley, threw my album and stamp
book in the house, and sat in front of the front door for a while. After a while, the window
crept shut and the house seemed to vibrate little by little. There was no sign of anything in
the house, so I guessed my mom had already become a home.

I went back and forth between the library and the sauna while waiting for the order to be
bound. I thought of someone to say goodbye to, but no one came to mind. I briefly thought of
the lady in the rib house kitchen who called me " Uri Maknae" and served me food, or the
factory warehouse worker who pulled out the vending machine coffee and told me to cheer
up when I had stayed up all night at work, but again I don't have to say goodbye to them
again since I had already said goodbye to them. After much thought, I decided to say
goodbye to the two librarians. They said they don't really want to be part with me and I would
stay in the bookshelf behind the desk for four years, so I don't have to say goodbye. The
female librarian said she would remember me forever. And even after she died, I was left in
the memory of my choice, and it was databased, and I would never be forgotten. I didn't
think deeply about being remembered forever by someone, but it was pretty reassuring.

On the eighth day, I went to the city hospital at 8 am. Most of the people gathered were men
and women in their 30s and 40s, and they were generally bright. Two of the people on the
list didn't show up on time. The nurse did not wait for them for more than five minutes,
saying that some people did not come. The nurse handed out two papers and a long white
cotton dress. I signed a physical waiver and an organ donation. Some people even shed
tears while signing their signs. The nurse then told us the precautions.
"Now, remove all the metallic objects and change your clothes. The time required depends
on the amount of memory, but it is completed in 30 minutes.Tell me if you want to quit. You
can quit at any time before the procedure. When I call your name, please go in two at a
time.”

I waited my turn in the waiting room where food and drinks were prepared. People didn't like
to eat just like me, so no one touched the food. People just looked down at the green garden
outside without much conversation. One person who was signing with tears left the waiting
room and did not return, and as the waiting time was shortened by more than an hour, there
were two people who said they would quit just before the procedure. After waiting for three
hours and fifteen minutes, I entered the sterile room. The practitioners in white gowns put
me in bed and gave me five minutes to think again. I urged them that I had no regrets, but
they silently rummaged through the documents and waited for the time to come. The five
minutes until the bell rang felt longer than any other time in my life.

The part of the memory I chose to detach from my body was bound in a hardcover book with
a clean red velvet cover.

At my request, my name and the years of birth and death, excluding the surname, were
engraved in gold Gothic font.

Thinner than other books, I bloomed in the sixth from the right side of the bottom
compartment behind the periodical desk.

The male librarian put on white cotton gloves and carefully placed it on the bookshelf, as if it
were something very important to me. His hand movements were smooth. I was relieved. I
hummed and sat by the sunny window in the corner of the library, surrounded by old
bookshelves and aisles made of bookshelves. As comfortable as sitting in the bathroom
was, there was no more truth I wanted to know.
Chapter 2 - Chapter 2 : Someone Who Looks Like You

Klein, you were standing towards my house. I had no idea how long you'd been standing
there or how you got here. You weren't there until Lisa left with my husband's car. When I
saw the woman's figure standing motionless inside the frame of the window facing the
village promenade, I thought it was you. You, who were small, were standing still and staring
at my house in a long black coat that covered half of the calves, which was in vogue at the
end of the last century. That coat was proof that you were you and not anyone else. That
coat was purchased with me in place of robes at an outlet outside the city just before you got
married. In my car on the way back, you smiled innocently, saying that it was the first time
you tried on a coat from such an expensive brand. I couldn't even bring myself to tell you
that the coat cost about two months' worth of lunch, and it was a bargain made of cheap
fabric, and it won't be too warm to wear. You walked lightly like a cold stranger in a heavy
coat mixed with two thirds of polyester. I envied you, who boasted that you never wore
expensive clothes and that you quickly warmed up with cheap clothes. At that time, I was
envious of you. Everything you have, everything you do not have, there is nothing that I do
not envy. I envied that cheap coat. I didn't know you'd still wear that old outfit that was more
than 10 years old. And I didn't know that the clothes that went back in time would feel so
terrifying.

I saw someone who looked like you at Lisa's school the other day. Lisa was assaulted by an
art teacher and injured for three weeks. The art teacher hit Lisa's head and face with her
fists and book, along with abusive language. The incident became public when a classmate
uploaded a video of the scene on the Internet. Lisa was not the only one who was shocked
by the violence she had experienced for the first time in her life. Besides, I was more
appalled by the fact that many people saw the disgraceful scene. Lisa, who returned with
blood on her face and head and a ruptured eardrum, did not come out of the room for a
while. I could see what had happened because Lisa's friends told me what a miserable sight
it was. I couldn't bear to watch the video. I ran to school and met a teacher who beat my
daughter. She sat rather absent-mindedly with her eyes as if she had been assaulted. I was
horribly surprised to see her in that strange mood of hers, in the same fashion that was
popular more than a decade ago, and she doesn't look too young but doesn't look too old;
she's not a young lady nor an old lady. Klein, it was definitely you. I felt unpleasant and
ominous, whether it was because I thought I had a relationship with someone I shouldn't
meet again or because of the appearance of a dusty stuffed-up. But she didn't recognize me
at all and treated me like a stranger, so I thought she might not be you, and by the time we
parted, I was assured and reassured that she was just a person who looked a lot like you.

She said she would be punished for corporal punishment but she would not apologize for my
child's fault. I tried to explain that I knew how shameful and insensitive my daughter was and
that I knew better than anyone else. She had no idea what kind of child Lisa was. The lovely
kids these days are different. There were other children who mocked her by calling her
nickname "Mimi", which was shortened to "Mi-chin Mi-sul seon-saeng" or "Crazy Art
Teacher," and my daughter said that she didn't participate in it.

"It was clear that my daughter didn't talk in class, and if there was anything she did wrong,
she only studied other things in art class. It's not like she ignored the art teacher, but she
only made that mistake because she was nervous ahead of her special high school exams.
She obviously didn't like the word "beg" for her wrongdoing and didn't listen to my words
when I tried to explain my situation. Or, she may have vented her anger over the trend of
belittling the arts and physical education at the same time. I wished she wouldn't stay in the
teaching profession for the rest of her life, because she said she had done nothing wrong
with her brazen face, but the case was settled by paying a small fine and taking a few
months' leave from her job. When I was depressed and had insomnia, Lisa's dad stepped
up. I don't know what happened after because I wasn't involved. I was also concerned that
she couldn't pull herself together, but there's no use. For a month, she wandered
unconsciously. Aside from ruining her entrance exams, I was worried that she would be
unable to recover from her mental wounds. Lisa returned to school after receiving the vice
principal's phone call. The vice principal said that the art teacher had quit school. It didn't
matter if she quit on her own or was pressured by my husband's connections. I thought it
was right to let such a teacher quit at all costs. I couldn't allow such a person to teach
students. Lisa went to her school and found her stability over time, but she couldn't return to
being a cheerful and confident child like before. I couldn't forgive her for leaving a big scar
on my child's heart. I never doubted that she was just someone who looked like you until you
showed up in front of my house. As I recall, you were far from the woman's distorted
inferiority complex or ferocity. In addition, it was unlikely that you would become that kind of
teacher who was tired of teaching children part-time, and you, who would have now entered
your late 30s, could not be the same as you were in your 20s. There were always one or two
people with the same name as me everywhere, and there was no reason for you to ignore
me. So, when I saw your face and heard your name, I didn't think it was you, but I couldn't
help but be surprised that this strange woman was you. I couldn't understand why you,
pretending not to know me, came to my house now.

We first met more than a decade ago in a Göte Institute beginner German class. You and I,
who sat side by side on the first day, had the same last name and name. It's not common at
my age, but I think it was a very common name at your age. The German teacher tried to put
an A or B in front of your name for convenience, but you said you were tired of the many A
or B that depend on your name wherever you go. Then you asked to be called Klein, which
means small. Your height was short, and you were 14 years younger than me, so you
matched the name well. From that day on, people called you Klein, and you liked your new
name.

I started German not because I wanted to be something, but out of loneliness and
enthusiasm. I never told you that, in my early twenties, I was as poor, busy, and horribly
humiliated as you were. My parents, who were chased by the debtors and moved around,
and disappeared with a credit loan in my name, as if they had waited for me when I became
an adult, turned out I couldn't even use my name. I worked day and night to pay back the
money I never touched, but I ended up with bad credit. In such a state, it was difficult to find
employment as a contract worker, let alone a full-time job. During the day, I worked as a
daily office assistant at a small company, and at night, I spent time cleaning the sauna. I
used to turn a blind eye because I didn't want to be a dark mould like my parents, even
though I needed to do dirty things to earn money. When I heard that a graduate student who
was seven years older than me working in the defence industry at my company was the
president's son, I thought he was the one who would save me from poverty. It wasn't difficult
to win his heart because he had never been in a relationship before. He wasn't funny and
unattractive, but he was a common-sense and sincere person, so it wasn't bad because he
wouldn't make me work as hard as my parents. We overcame the strong opposition of our
in-laws and got married. The intensity of poverty ended futilely, but it was soon replaced by a
subtle contempt disguised as kindness. I had my first son after six months of marriage. I was
so naive that I expected to be able to be incorporated into his family. His family did not
accept me because of my different birth and class. My parents-in-law and his brother were
very polite and friendly with me, but they didn't want to talk to me. My bankrupt parents, my
high school diploma, and my existence itself were objects of sympathy and contempt. But I
could bear it because I had a lovely son and a lovely husband. My son grew up eating up my
youth, and the rest of my twenties passed meaninglessly like a nap. But as time passed, I
was left with nothing but loneliness. My son, who became a middle school student, and my
husband, who was always busy, went back and forth like boarders, and I kept the house
waiting for them to return. I was so lonely that I couldn't stand it, but I didn't have any friends
or things to do. My childhood dream was to live in a luxury villa without worrying about
money. Now that has become reality, and I have no dream to achieve or anything I want to
do. One day, I found out there was a German class. There had been times when I thought
that I wanted to study for a new job and get a decent job, but I didn't know what to do, so I
signed up for a German course.

Most of the students in the German courses were college students or recently graduated
students who were about to study abroad. You were also a sophomore in the department of
painting and were planning to study abroad. As a housewife in my thirties who did not
graduate from college, I was a heterogeneous being. People were surprised that I had a
middle school son, but they didn't pay any more attention. People used to talk about their
major and studying abroad during breaks or after lectures, so they sat together in the
cafeteria to talk and set up study groups, but I couldn't mix with them because of my
inferiority complex, and they also didn't think to let me in. You would always come in after
and leave the classroom as soon as it was over. You used to sit next to me and help me
understand the German-only class. If it weren't for you, I might have stopped studying
German halfway through. I tried to buy you a meal, but you refused, saying that you didn't
have time to eat. I hated you for always pretending to be busy, but I desperately wanted to
get closer to you because you were the only one who dealt with me. So, as a novice to art, I
asked you to recommend an easy-to-read art book, or we went to the library and continued
to have poor conversation. By the end of the course, we became close enough to talk about
our personal lives, and as we listened to each other following courses together, we became
best friends. I spent a very important time in life with you. My life was completely different
after I broke up with you. I have cleared up some time by not looking back on the past. I
expelled people I had spent time with from my life. You are also a person from the past
whom I have organized like that, so you should not intervene in my life again.

You rang the doorbell of my house. I didn't respond as if the house you were looking for
wasn't mine. You started to knock on the front door shamelessly and proudly. When there
was no sign from inside, you knocked harder and harder. In the rural housing complex
surrounded by mountains on all sides, the whole neighborhood was noisy, even with a little
chatter. If it was clear that something had happened, neighboring women would come and
dig it up, using an excuse for tea time and get rid of their boredom. I knew that Lisa had
been babbling about not going to school for a while, so I responded before the door-to-door
sound echoed throughout the neighborhood. Whether you're a Klein or an art teacher, I
didn't want to let you in, but I opened the door. You walked into the front door, and you knelt
down without taking off your shoes.

"I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

I was taken aback by your sudden behavior, which has always been brazen. It was so
different from when we met at school, so I was uneasy about what the purpose was. You
knelt on your knees and bowed your head, muttering.

"I didn't know it was you, Unnie. I'm sorry. Do you recognize me?"

Klein, it was you. If you didn't recognize me, I didn't want to hide. But you seemed to
recognize me too late, so I felt like I had to pretend to share the joy of reunion. I couldn't
figure out what you wanted to do here, kneeling down and begging forgiveness for what
you'd done all the way here. I felt like something troublesome was going to happen in the
future.

Stop it, just get up. I know you now. I'm sorry to meet you like this. "

I got you up and led you to the living room. If I didn't get you up, you would be on your knees
all day. You looked around the house awkwardly and sat on the sofa.

"It's been a long time, Unnie. I'm sorry I couldn't contact you in the meantime. I heard that
Lisa's mom is a painter. When I saw her face, I just thought she looked just like you, Unnie. I
didn't think that you'd be an artist. I was surprised to see you in an art magazine. It was an
article about Unnie's interview and work, and I just knew it after seeing it. I don't know how it
is possible to not recognize it at all."

When the word painter came out of your mouth, I could sense my face burning as I was
ashamed. Before I met you, I had no idea what art was. I learned to draw from you for the
first time. I wanted to study German with you, drink tea with you and chat with you like
everyone else, but you were busy until you didn't even have time to eat. While attending
school, you worked as an instructor at an art academy for entrance examinations and taught
private lessons from time to time. In order to work as much as other students, you always go
to school the first thing in the morning. You always lacked time and money because you had
to earn money for tuition, materials, and pocket money. I feel so bad for you, who are
wasting your precious time making money, so I started learning how to draw from you. You
may not have known, but I didn't want to learn to paint. I just wanted to be with you, and I
wanted to give you a break because you were always tired. As you taught me, you quit all
your useless private lessons that didn't cost a lot of money, and you often stopped by my
house to spend time. You liked my house better with a larger living room and study than
yours, which is without any private space. My husband, who was always busy, and my son,
who went to various academies, used to come home late at night, but I was not lonely
because I was with you. You filled the empty house like a new family, and the newly learned
drawing was fun, so I didn't know how time passed. As time went by, all the affection for my
husband and son, my love for the painting, and for you grew. I didn't know what I wanted to
do, but as I spent time with you, I thought it would be okay to live by drawing pictures. But I
didn't seem to have much talent, so I just dreamed. You always encouraged me by saying,
"You can do it if you try." It's been a long time, and I felt like I was still a student who was
learning to draw in front of you, so I'm kind of embarrassed.

"I'm old enough to not recognize you. Look at this white hair. I didn't know it was you. No
matter how many times I saw you, I didn't expect you to be a teacher. You didn't like
teaching kids? I thought you'd keep drawing.”

I didn't know I would be like this either. I couldn't draw anymore because I was distracted for
a few years. I got a job in school to make a living. It doesn't make sense for a person like me
to be a teacher. It was also something I shouldn't have done. I'm so sorry, Unnie, that I'm
just breaking this up now. Forgive me.

You continued to apologize, but your words were not immediately heard. You recognised me
belatedly and seemed to be trying to mend your mistakes and want to restore the
relationship.

"How've you been doing? Did you study abroad? "

"No, I couldn't. Studying abroad wasn't something that anyone could do. People like me,
who don't have anything, are supposed to be unable to leave this land no matter how hard
they try. There was a time when I believed I could do anything I wanted to do. I had a good
dream. As I lived, I realised that drawing was not important. I was not interested in art
anymore. If I was interested, I could have been able to meet Unnie earlier. It's too bad."

I didn't expect to hear this from you, who was not interested in anything other than art. You
saved a few pennies for preparation for studying abroad. You said you chose Germany
because there was no tuition fee, and you would leave if it saved about half a year of living
expenses. There is nothing you can't live there if you work as hard as you do here. You said
you wanted to succeed as a painter there. You seemed to be so full of confidence and
energy that you didn't need any outside help, and you seemed to have nothing to do with the
depression or anxiety of youth. Even when you were wearing a loose hooded t-shirt and
knee-jerk jeans all the time, you shone brightly. Even when you were poor, small, and ugly, it
was an ornament that made you sparkle. When I saw you like that, I felt sorry for my
twenties, who only wanted it to pass by so quickly because I couldn't stand how it made me
envy your youth and dreams. The times have ruined you. I couldn't say anything because I
thought that me being a painter was a big mistake that I made.

"Have you gotten married?"

"I couldn't do it. Yoo-seok Sunbae disappeared a week before the wedding. I thought he'd
come back, but he didn't show up until the wedding day. I should have quit when Unnie
stopped me. Since then, I haven't been able to date any man. I've been doing nothing for
years without seeing anyone, and I've become like this. But I'm fine now."

You didn't look okay at all. It was like a ghost held at the time. In fact, I knew that you broke
up with Yoo-seok, but I never thought that you would be living alone for years.
I got to know Yoo-seok after I knew you for more than a year. I didn't ask if you had a lover
because you didn't seem to have time for a relationship because you were too busy and you
didn't look very popular among men. One day, you took a break from all your work to take
care of your mom, who had burned herself while working in a restaurant and taking care of
the housework. You introduced me to a senior who would teach me how to draw while you
were away. The person who came to my house was a tall, unsightly thin man. He looked like
a vagabond, with his unshaven hair, unshaven beard, and a beggar with a field jacket, so I
hesitated to bring him in. He was good at joking and was sarcastic. He brazenly called me
"Noona," who was ten years older than him. He was offended as he was acting like he was
an older man, despite the fact that he was only three years older than you. Moreover, he not
only missed his appointments, he often missed classes. Even in class, he seemed to be
busy doing his own thing without paying attention to what I drew. I don't know why a sincere
person like you introduced me to such a person, but I'm sorry for complaining to you as I
waited for the day you came. Then one day, I saw a small croquis book that had been left
behind. There were several paintings of me sitting in front of the easel. It was a simple green
croquette with a single line, but at first glance, I could tell if it was me. I looked much more
beautiful when I was in the picture than I actually was. When I returned the croquis book to
him, he said with a shy smile, "The right eye is beautiful. It goes well with the deep, warm
eyes. "

As he was writing an observation diary, he made a naughty remark and taught casually. I
realised I hadn't heard the word "beautiful" in a very long time. When he held my hand as he
gave me charcoal, my heart raced to the point where I couldn't breathe. He drew me while I
was painting. I pretended to be calm, but I was extremely nervous, and by the end of the
class, I felt like I was going to fall down. He seemed to know I was nervous, but he didn't
take his eyes off me as if he was enjoying it.

I told him the news that you would be back soon and asked him if he would keep coming. He
refused, saying that he had no intention of teaching anyone, but he listened to it since it was
your request. I felt ashamed and sad as a person who had been turned down. I didn't want
to see him again, but sometimes he comes with you. I was distressed because I couldn't
figure out why he kept coming to me. In front of me, both of you were talking back and forth
as if in a comic conversation, obsessed with the smallest things and fighting like people that
you wouldn't see again, over time. Strangely, I didn't wonder about your relationship. I
thought that you guys would be close friends, like same-sex friends or siblings. I asked you if
Yoo-seok was dating anyone. I can't forget the unfamiliar apprenticeship that you were
ashamed of saying you were his lover. Yoo-seok, who is a returning student, said he has
been dating you for more than two years. Only then did I realise that I knew a part of you and
that your real life was outside our conversation. I became so lonely and sad, as if I were left
out by you. You said that he and you look alike a lot, but the truth was that he's not. Unlike
you, he's gone too far. He was overconfident and overly preoccupied with his inferiority
complex. It was beautiful because the contradictory emotions were balanced. I thought it
was you and me that separated him. I thought your relationship wouldn't last very long. It
wouldn't have been a lie that Yoo-seok loved you, but he loved me. He's sneaked up on you
and painted me, saying he missed me. I warned him not to show up again because I was
afraid you'd find out. At the same time, I hope that he will visit me again.
You said you would marry him after graduation. I thought it was just your plan, just like
studying abroad. But it was all over between the two of you, and the wedding date had been
put in place. Even after you graduated, Yoo-seok had to go to school for another year, and
you would both be living abroad, so it was better to share the households as soon as
possible. I'm vehemently against your marriage. It wasn't just because I loved Yoo-seok. I
loved you as much as I love Yoo-seok. Yoo-seok had nothing more than you, and he didn't
do anything right except draw. It was obvious that you two, who wanted to be writers after
graduation, would be poor if you married each other. One of you has to be responsible for
living, and there was a strong possibility you would take the role. Marriage is a reality, and
it's your only chance to change your life dramatically, so don't make such a decision so
easily. I wanted you to meet a rich man and live a comfortable life while painting. But you
didn't listen to me. You said, "Even if I live in a small room, I want to do what I want to do
with someone I like."

I was dumfounded by your ignorance, but at the same time, I couldn't stand the jealousy.
The time you and him had spent together, the bond between the two of you, all things I don't
know of course, I was left out of everything you shared. I didn't know if I was jealous of him
or of you. I was mad. How can you ignore poverty when it comes to the subject of raising
money while being unable to wear or eat properly? Somehow, I felt insulted because I felt
like a snob who gave in to poverty. It was like that when I was with you. Everything you didn't
have, everything you had, brought me a strange sense of defeat.

"Still, I'm glad that Unnie went to study abroad and succeeded. Would my life have changed
if I went with you? I thought we'd be together for a long, long time. I guess it was because I
was young. At that time, I thought that once I got to know someone, I would never part with
them. I really liked the time I spent with you, Unnie. I guess it was because I was in my
twenties... I keep thinking about it."

I didn't go abroad because I wanted to study. I just wanted to leave everywhere because I
couldn't bear to see your marriage. Your graduation and marriage are drawing near. The two
of you got a private room. When Yoo-seok graduated, he said, "I plan to take out my lease
money and go abroad to study," and he took you to a used furniture store to buy some
furniture. "I won't even wear robes," you said. I took you to an outlet outside the city, bought
you clothes, and I thought it was the last gift I could give you. I realised that there was never
a time like that for me as I got furniture and got busy cleaning up the house with Yoo-seok
instead of you. As if I was the one starting the marriage life, I was excited and sad. I
wondered if my dream was not to study abroad and get a decent job, but something like this.
I cried thinking that the things I had to throw away were things I could get, things I could not
get even if I threw them away. Yoo-seok quietly hugged me, whether he knew why I was
crying or not. Even when I was eating or just sitting still, the tears would flow down. When
my son saw that, he became intimidated, as if he had done something wrong. I couldn't live
like that because I felt sorry for my child. Leaving this country before getting married was the
only solution. My husband made an excuse for our son, took one look at him, and then let
him do whatever he wanted. My son went to a high school with a dormitory, and I left for
Berlin without choosing a school or preparing for a portfolio or language test. The day before
I left, I called you and said goodbye. When I asked you if you would go to study abroad with
me if I paid all the living expenses, you took it as a joke and told me to have a safe trip. I
didn't think I'd see you again, but you didn't know that, so you said that you would send me a
wedding photo and asked me to give you my address when I arrived.

At that time, I didn't think I could be a painter. It was enough to start a new study, so I didn't
dream of anything more than a dream. After studying abroad, I was so happy just to raise
Lisa, who was born later. Since I had more free time during my twenties, I drew from time to
time while raising my child. In commemoration of my child's entry into elementary school, my
husband rented a gallery and opened an exhibition, and I, who was just a part-time painter,
was unexpectedly attracting attention because of my experience of studying in Germany.
When the child became a middle school student, she had more time, and she started
creative activities in earnest. When I got the title of a painter, no one treated me carelessly
anymore. But I didn't want the name to be known. I didn't want people who knew me in the
past to think of me, and I didn't want to be in a situation where I had to continue my
relationship with them again. Sure enough, you came to me just like that, concerned. You
are older now than I was when we met. Given that those were the best, I don't think life after
that was very happy. My life has changed completely since we separated. The more I left the
past behind, the better I became. The best time for me was always now. I didn't envy the
younger you anymore.

You looked carefully at the many pictures of Lisa in the closet; her portraits I drew; and our
family pictures. I looked at her for a while as if she was envious, but I got a strange feeling
and wanted to get rid of all of the pictures.

"I didn't expect Unnie to have a daughter. Lisa has been pretty since she was a baby. I don't
think she resembles your husband but only you, Unnie. Did you have a baby after you came
back from Germany?"

"No, I gave birth in Germany. My husband couldn't go out because of work and my son, and
I had to finish studying, so I just used a babysitter there and raised him alone. You don't
know how hard it was to get past the stone. "

"It would be more affectionate. How sad must it have been for you to feel that I did that to
such a precious child who had been raised so hard? All I can say is that I'm sorry... Unnie,
I'm really sorry. I was wrong. Because my life is so hectic, I make a lot of mistakes like that. I
sincerely apologize, so please forgive me."

"Okay, it's all over now, so let's stop talking about it."

No matter how politely you apologized, I couldn't forgive you easily. Our wounds were too
great to be forgiven. Considering the wounds in the child's heart, I didn't want to forgive you
until I died. It was unpleasant for me because I felt like I had become the perpetrator
because you kept asking me to forgive you. I couldn't forget how you criticised Lisa in a bad
way. You repeatedly said sorry until you left home. It was burdensome and unpleasant when
I heard your repeated apologies, but strangely, after you left, my heart felt much lighter.

When you came to apologise, Lisa was fed up and gave a very unpleasant expression on
her face.
"Mom, don't bring her into our house. It's so suspicious that she's suddenly apologising now.
She is just such a weird person that other teachers don't hang out with her. I'm all right now.
I'm just going to think I was out of luck. "

I don't know if it was okay, but Lisa, who spoke optimistically, was lovely. I wanted to believe
that the incident would not affect such a healthy child.

You came back the next morning at the same time. I didn't expect you to come back, so I
answered the bell casually. On the interphone screen, I could only see the scenery across
the house, but there was no one there. I could only hear voices saying, "It's me." Even if I
asked who it was, I only heard the sound of mumbling. I opened the door in frustration, and
you were standing in front of my door. You suddenly hugged me, buried your face on my
shoulder, and cried. I was embarrassed and tried to pull you off, but it wasn't easy. I stood
still until you stopped crying. After a while, you went into the living room with a smile on your
face. It was natural, as in the old days when I was in and out of my house. I was anxious
because I couldn't understand your intention of coming back.

"I watched the video for the first time yesterday, and I was scared of myself. I could see that
I was becoming a monster. Actually, I don't really remember that time. I don't know exactly
what I did because my mind is blank as if I just woke up from sleep. I'm so sorry to think of
the shock Lisa got, so if there is anything I can do, I want to do anything. I'm really sorry."

"You apologised enough yesterday. That's enough, so stop it. Lisa said it was okay, too. As
long as you live, you might do that. So, you too quickly forget it. "

I said so because you looked like you were in so much pain, but in fact, I still couldn't forgive
you and forget about it.

"You can't forgive me, Unnie. How can I be forgiven? "

What you need may be a word of forgiveness. You had the momentum to come over and
over again just to hear those words. I couldn't really forgive you, but if a simple answer could
avoid bothering me, it would be better to do so.

"You don't have to do anything. I really forgive you. So don't be so stressed."

To avoid the impression of a half-hearted answer, I looked at you in the eyes and said it
clearly. You looked moderately satisfied. I was relieved to think that my business might be
coming to an end.

"I'm sorry. I became this kind of person because of Yoo-seok Sunbae. He ruined me. At first,
I decided I would never forgive him. I would wake up from sleep and beat my chest, crying. If
I knew where he was going and why he left me, it wouldn't be so hard. As time went by, I
hated myself for not forgetting and hating him, so I wanted to forgive him."

"What's the point of thinking about the past? You're the only one who has to stay on top of
the things of the past. Hurry up and forget it."
It seemed that you were trying to justify your strange behaviour by using an event from a
very long time ago, but it was not very convincing. It is natural to forget the man you were
with when you broke up, but I thought it would be a matter of your sincerity to hate the man
who abandoned you for so long. I wanted you to go back quickly, but you didn't think about it
and went flopping on the couch. You asked me to show you around the studio. You went up
to the second floor without permission, saying you wanted to see my work. You took a long
look at the unfinished picture and some paintings on the wall before opening your mouth.

"I was helpful to you, Unnie. I don't think my Eskis were enough to hold many exhibitions..."

I didn't think you would think so. You used to show me thought notes from Eskis. The notes
included sketches of old roads, crumbling buildings, collapsed walls, and written notes about
the time. I didn't know if it was good work or what it meant. You said you loved old, dirty, and
sick things. In your eyes, who don't know my past, I may appear to be someone who doesn't
know any of these things, but I knew them very well because I was closer to them than you
were by nature. So, strictly speaking, I didn't steal your work. I just learned that those things
can also become work. That is why I did not draw flower paintings like other housewives,
and I only drew what I knew well. I wanted to tell you this story and clear up the
misunderstanding, but you snapped at me.

"I can sense something different from mine. Well, if you copy something, you'll find new
things too. It's art that started with imitation, so let's just say that way. "

You didn't seem to want to listen to me. But I kept my mouth shut because, to be honest, I
didn't seem to think it was a big deal either. You prepared to go back as soon as the words
were finished, just like the person who remained just because you wanted to say it. I said
goodbye to you, hoping you wouldn't come back.

"Just live well. I just want you to forget about this because it could be a mistake."

You didn't respond to my words, and you spoke out of nowhere as if you had suddenly
thought of it.

"Unnie, Yoo-seok sunbae wants me to say hi."

The man who left you said hello to me? I was worried that you might be out of your mind.

"You said you broke up. What do you mean, hello? "

"Oh, now he's back and he's with me. We're just together. I don't like being together, but it's
better than breaking up, so I'm just living my life. "

She said she missed me a lot. You left the word behind. My legs trembled when I found out
that Yoo-seok was near me. I didn't want to see him again, just like you. I wanted you guys
to be the ones who didn't exist in my life from the beginning.

Before leaving for Germany, I sent a letter to Yoo-seok a week before the wedding, saying,
"I can pay for a flight ticket to Berlin and live there, so let's go together." Though I thought he
wouldn't come, I gave him a hint of hope. Fortunately or unfortunately, he followed me. We
got a house. My husband sent me money to get a large house, but we needed a living
expense for the two of us, so we got a small house with a one-room, a living room, and a
kitchen. It was larger than the house you got, but it was a very old building. I will never forget
my first winter there. The cold floor and the wind blowing in through the cracks in the old
windows made the radiator and thick clothes useless. We hugged each other and the winter
in bed, relying on each other's body temperature. He seemed anxious about the future, but I
didn't have to do anything with him. I enrolled in a German class, and he, who knows no
German, said he couldn't stand the cold and would start when it warmed up. He didn't draw
anything when I bought him art supplies. I sometimes, if not almost, forgot about my family,
but every night I called my son, and on the day of sending money, my husband called me
and asked how I was doing. Every time I felt sorry for Yoo-seok, as he seemed to be
suffering, too.

"I threw everything away, but why don't you want to put anything down, Noona?"

He asked me reproachfully. I said I would sort it out gradually, because my child was still
young, so it took time and I had no money right now. Unable to cover his own living
expenses, he shut his mouth. I made a portfolio with his help and got accepted into an art
school. My husband and son visited Germany to celebrate my college acceptance. Upon
hearing this, he left the day my family arrived in Germany. My husband and son stay at my
house instead of going to a hotel. My husband looked around the house and said that it was
too old and dirty, but he did not notice the remaining of Yoo-seok's soul. Unlike the last time
my son was on the phone, this time he treated me awkwardly but refused to go back. My
family did not return until the end of August. Even during my family's stay, I was curious
about Yoo-seok, who had left home and had no news at all. I asked my language school
friends about his whereabouts, but no one knew. After having been looking for him for more
than a week, I was able to meet him, who was living like a bum at Volks Park. After visiting
him several times and promising that this would never happen again, I managed to bring him
home.

Two months after my husband returned home, I found out that I had a child. Actually, I don't
know who the father of the child is. My husband, who knew that the child was his daughter,
was worried about my age and told me to come back, but I said I would give birth there and
go back home after studying. At the time of her birth, my husband was busy, so fortunately
he could not come to Germany. Yoo-seok cut the baby's umbilical cord and held her in his
arms for the first time. It was hard to raise a baby when I was almost 40. Yoo-seok took care
of the baby instead of me, who had to go to school. He gave the baby powdered milk,
changed diapers, bathed her, and made baby food. It was also his job to pick her up when
she cried and put her to sleep. I asked to use a babysitter, but he said he couldn't leave the
baby to someone else, so he kept delaying his studies because he had to raise the baby by
hand until he was done. My husband, who was desperate to see the newborn baby, came to
Berlin together with our son without contact. When I got a call from him that he had arrived at
the airport, I was startled. Yoo-seok got mad at me for asking him to leave the house for a
while, saying "Why should I leave my daughter behind?" When I answered that she was not
your daughter, he left the house screaming, "I raised her, and that I would raise her in the
future." I was sorry, but there was nothing I could do. If my husband found out, I would be
back in poverty. While I was together with my family, I ran into him everywhere. He
approached my husband, saying, "He's a friend of mine who goes to the same university as
me." My husband was delighted to see a Korean he had not seen in a long time and treated
him to a meal. Without even making eye contact with me, he looked at Lisa and said that the
baby was pretty. My husband was enthusiastic about showing off his child without even
imagining our relationship. I was fed up with myself and all of them, so I decided I had to end
that life in some way. I needed money to raise a baby well. I said goodbye to him. He said he
would tell my husband the whole thing without snorting. When I said that we broke up
because it was the best for Lisa, he turned me into a selfish snob. He said if I left the child
behind, he would not go that far. I said he could never take her, and he made a fuss until the
day we parted. He wasn't the special young man I saw at first, and I didn't love him anymore.
He couldn't sleep because he was afraid that I might go into hiding with his child. I sneaked
out of Berlin with only the simple luggage that the baby needed. And I never saw him again.

The reason he hasn't looked for me until now is probably because he's returned to you. Did
he tell you what happened between the two of us? If you had known, you wouldn't have
been able to treat me so casually. He wouldn't have been able to tell the truth, at least to
you. It would have been a disgrace to him. I was afraid that Yoo-seok would appear in front
of me with you. I was afraid that tomorrow would come.

The next day, the doorbell rang without fail before the husband went to work and the helper
went to work. I decided never to open it. I was terrified to think that you might have come
with Yoo-seok. The bell rang one after another as a sign that it would never stop until the
door was opened, then I went up to the second floor and closed the curtains and did not
respond. After a while, it was quiet outside, and then I looked out the window and saw that
you were not in front of the house. As I was going down to the kitchen to have breakfast, I
stood in front of the kitchen window behind the yard and saw your eyes looking into the
house. I dropped the cup on the floor. You pointed your finger toward the front door and
asked to open it without any sign of an apology. You must have noticed that I didn't open the
door on purpose, but you thought I was sleeping. Fortunately, you came alone. "How can
you come to such a remote place early every morning?"

"I'm staying at a nearby hotel. I don't even have to get up early, but I can't sleep. I can't sleep
at all, Unnie. I can't live with that video going round and round in my head. Please let me
meet Lisa. She probably suffers just like me."

I was afraid that I didn't know why you stayed at a nearby motel and visited me persistently. I
simply couldn't think of it as doing such a strange thing just to ask for forgiveness.

"It's all settled now, and Lisa says she's really good, so don't bother to take it. Let's stop
talking about the past. Are you doing this because you are thinking of returning to work and
need help?"

"Don't say that. I can't do that, and I shouldn't do that. It's just that I don't think I can live
without a proper apology. I can't stand it because I feel like I'm a really bad person. I feel like
I hurt Unnie's family. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. "

"You already apologized yesterday. I already forgive you. "

"Think carefully. Can you really forgive me? You will probably never forget them all. Oh,
really, why did I do that?"

I didn't know if what you wanted to hear meant forgiving or unforgiving. You seemed to come
to offend me and make me nervous.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to be the target because I know what it's like to not be able to forgive
someone. If forgiveness had been so easy, I wouldn't have lived like this. I'm sure you can't
forgive me from the bottom of your heart."

"No, I had no choice but to forgive you the moment you asked for forgiveness. I mean it. "

"Is that really true? I guess the reason why I'm still having such a hard time is because he
hasn't asked me for forgiveness yet. Actually, I still can't forgive him."

I didn't know what it would be like to be with someone who was persistently unforgiving for
many years. He was a human being who could not understand that he had not asked for
forgiveness for all these years.

"I found him after six years. He was in Berlin. If all went according to plan, we would have
been studying together around that time. But he was there alone. "

When I left, I didn't leave a penny for fear that he would easily follow me when I left there.
Even so, I thought I might be able to somehow return home by disposing of the rented
house. I moved to a rural housing estate far from the city to avoid him following me. When I
said that I needed a good apartment and a large house for my baby, my husband bought a
house with a yard. Fortunately, he couldn't fine me. Sometimes I wondered how he would
get along, but I didn't want to see him again for the rest of my life. I was afraid that my family
would learn about things in Germany. It was a relief that we were the only ones who knew
about it. He was happy to be able to safely raise the baby inside his husband's fence.

"You came back from there and stayed together."

"No, he didn't come back. His belongings, with only a photo and a fountain pen, were
returned. He was homeless in a park in Berlin and was beaten to death by neo-Nazis. All I
have with me are his belongings, but I always feel he is with me. Still, he won't come back
alive and beg me for forgiveness."

You put a picture and a fountain pen in front of me. It was a picture of Yoo-seok, me and a
baby. In the picture, I was breastfeeding my baby in pajamas, and next to me was Yoo-seok,
taking a picture of the three of us through the mirror. It contained the old German house
where we stayed together and the household goods I left behind. I picked up the fountain
pen and opened the lid, looking away from the picture. The tentacle-free fountain pen
contained Lisa's thong, which was dark brown and withered. You were sitting there looking
at pictures of Lisa as a baby on the dresser. I tried to calm myself down quickly, but I was
startled by something I could not have imagined, and I just floundered. I had no idea how far
you knew, so I couldn't say anything.
I was distressed because I couldn't know what it was after receiving his belongings, but it
was even more painful when I found out. I was wondering what was going on while looking
at the pictures. Did you guys go together or meet by chance, and who was the baby, or did
you guys live together? I tried to understand you even after assuming the whole thing or
imagining everything. How lonely Unnie was, how frustrated Unnie was; no, no, no matter
what you did, I liked you more than your friends and sister. I used to be sad thinking about
how I would spend my time without you if you died before me because Unnie was older. But
now, I'm so glad that you'll die before me. It's really sad to think this way.

"Yeah, I know what you're imagining, but that's not always the case. Lisa is my husband's
child, and Yoo-seok didn't even go with me. "

"I don't care whose child it is. I don't even want to know what happened then because it's in
the past and I'm hurt. Even if he comes alive, it's useless. I gave you a chance to apologize.
But it's just disappointing. Is it that hard to ask for forgiveness?"

I was known then. I knew what she wanted. I didn't want to upset her anymore.

"I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I should have apologized earlier, but I'm really sorry."

"It seems useless now. I used to make up my mind to never do that because I was afraid
that if you asked for forgiveness, I would soon forgive you. Why did you worry about that?
I'm not really the one to ask for forgiveness... I thought you were young and eager to learn
new things. Did you say that age is just a number and you'd never grow up again? I can tell
you clearly now that I'm older than you were then. Growing up isn't bad or great. You will
become a person who can fully bear the weight of the time you have lived. You've been a
child in self-pity and still haven't grown up since you've gone overboard. I despise you. "

It was such a polite way of speaking that at first glance it seemed to say, "I respect you."
Strangely enough, I didn't get angry at it. What I was thinking seemed to pour out of her
mouth.

At that moment, I realized something important. I should have noticed it from the start, but I
foolishly didn't see it because of fear. Why didn't I wonder that you've never changed your
clothes and that your face hasn't changed a long time ago? It was obvious that you always
showed up in that coat because I couldn't remember anything but a black long coat. It was
strange that you came here without the sound of a car early in the morning, and it was
suspicious that you came only at the time when no one was there. And how do you know the
inside of me? I talked to you for a long time, but it was strange that our conversation was
only focused on Yoo-seok and Lisa, but we could not know about your present at all. You
might not be a real person. The guilt I had suppressed and the feeling of contempt for myself
It was obvious that you were manifesting as a person who looked like you. You may not be
real, but a pathological personality that has been split from me.

As I made my way to the kitchen, I pretended to pass you by and touched your shoulder. I
could feel your body vividly in the palm of my hand, but it would be my illusion of your
senses. If it didn't feel so vivid, I wouldn't have let you into the house to have a conversation
in the first place. I was planning on holding you until the helper lady came and asked if she
could see you. But you went out without any delay, and said

"Tell your husband everything and apologize. I'll wait a little bit. Don't let me tell your family
directly..."

Your warning was more terrifying than any other word. Tomorrow you will come back. I don't
know how long this uncomfortable visit will last. Eventually, I had an ominous hunch that I
couldn't stand you and would tell my husband the truth with my own mouth. What will
happen after that? But anyway, it is clear that we will not be able to face a peaceful daily life
like now.

You walked towards the entrance of the village. I thought you might suddenly disappear, so I
took my car key out of you and followed you. As soon as I started the car, standing in the
yard, I stepped on the accelerator hard. The car sped toward your path, and you soared into
the air once, fell to the floor, and were sucked under the wheels. The neighbours opened the
door and looked out at the loud noise. I waved my hand to let him know that everything was
fine and he turned the car home. "What are you doing? There's a person underneath! "

The woman from the persimmon tree house rushed out, screamed, and blocked the car. At
the sound, the other neighbours also came out, one by one, and murmured.

I know what they're seeing is not you, but the guilt in your heart. Even if you're really you, it's
irreversible. Klein, if you had any tolerance, you wouldn't have laid your back on the cold
floor in such a cold winter. I'm nothing more than a poor housewife trying to protect my
family. You're Lisa's teacher, and you just came to my house to vent your anger at your loss.
Who can blame me for the well-meaning accident I was trying to escort the teacher who
came without a car? Sudden accidents happen from time to time. It's your fault that you've
come this far, not mine. Really, it's unavoidable for me. I got out of the car and asked the
people.

"Do you really see this?"

People struggled to get you out of the wheel, but you were there.
Chapter 3 - Chapter 3 : A Closed City
Sam goes to City C, but she doesn't know where it is in this country. She has never left
home since she was ten. When she came back, she knew that there were cases where her
house was gone and she was not there. She took a bus to the terminal with a suitcase in her
suit for work. When the bus passed by the restaurant where Sam's office worker at the bank
had lunch, the usual convenience store, and coffee shop, the scenery felt very unfamiliar.
Sam thought that the time she spent in quiet M City from the age of 10 until now was nothing
more than a passing scene, and rather, the short time in C City a long time ago was the only
memory she had of her body.

On television, which had been habitually turned on while preparing for work, there was news
that a large-scale mass migration of C-city citizens was underway. City C has always been
noisy due to problems such as human trafficking, prostitution, and violent crimes, and the
country has decided to fully redevelop it as an eco-friendly tourist city. Despite endless
opposition from the Poverty Alliance and the Tenant Union, the plan was eventually passed.
Compensation and moving fees were paid to citizens, and the city was closed at the end of
the week, and demolition began soon. The camera reflected a hideous civic apartment
standing in the center of the city like a symbol of C-city for 30 years. Sam recognized at a
glance the apartment on the hill she once lived in. It was older and more cringey than she
remembered. Sam found out for the first time when she saw the news that the apartment
was in C City.

Sam was abducted at the age of six and lived in the apartment. She came back after
spending four years with her grandmother, Bok, who was a boy of her age and many girls.
She didn't tell anyone about the time because she thought maybe she didn't know if she was
involved in some sort of trafficking.

Sam went to elementary school two years later than the children who had not been
kidnapped. Her father bought a small house for her, and her mother sometimes visited and
bought her a meal. She didn't resent her parents because she thought it was her fault that
the family broke up. She grew up neglected by her parents, but she never showed up. She
filled the four-year gap and the absence of her parents with other stories. "My father is a
sailor. My mother is a missionary and she is in Sierra Leone. I've been there with my mom
for four years. My mom sent me back alone because it was too dangerous." Sam thought
the lie was half true. She talked about the hunger and solitude she saw in Africa, the beauty
of the jungle and the desert. The children listened to her interesting story. She got closer to
books than people to create stories that are more true. She made up numerous stories to tell
nothing about herself. Even if she left college, went to work, and lived with an ordinary face,
the fact that she was a sinner did not change. She kept no one close to her because she
was afraid to find out what kind of person she was. She was happy that no one knew her
past, but the thought that she had no one in the world to reveal herself to made her
endlessly lonely. When she saw the apartment that still exists there, she was distressed that
all the senses of the time she tried to forget seemed to be revived. It was all my
grandmother's fault.

Sam got a ticket from the intercity bus terminal to City C. City C was three hours away by
intercity bus. How did a kid get that far? She didn't remember well then. She dreamed in an
intercity bus. It was a dream that she had periodically after returning home. Standing in the
alley waiting for someone, it was always Grandma who appeared. The grandmother clasped
her in her arms. She struggled to get out of her arm, waking up and seeing that no one was
beside her, she was indescribably frightened, and on the other hand, she missed the warmth
of those arms of hers.

City C was smaller than City M, but it was very noisy and the air was not good. The terminal
was packed with people leaving. A city of small houses and old low-rise buildings that were
clustered together gave the impression of being messy. The office kept getting calls every 20
minutes. Sam took out her battery and threw her cell phone into the trash can. There was a
citizen apartment about 20 minutes away by taxi from the terminal. The taxi driver asked for
a round-trip fare, saying no one was coming out of there. He said, "I thought I'd be in a bad
mood at any time," adding, "I'm glad I can work in another city starting next week." A long
time ago, there was a bus stop and a shopping street, and there were only occasional cars
passing by on the bustling street, but no one was seen. All the very old shops on the uphill
road to the apartment were closed, and some were broken.

The apartment complex was more devastating than she saw on television. In the yard
surrounding the four five-story, corridor-style apartments, there were piles of garbage,
broken furniture and doors, and broken toilet bowls. Most of the windows were broken, and
on the outer wall, where the paint was peeled off, phrases such as "opposition to demolition"
were written. Sam wandered around four identical buildings to find where she lived. People
were leaving, and only the sound of her footsteps echoed through the empty apartment
complex. When she saw a single-story building used as a boiler room, she remembered the
first day she came here.

She went into a large room underneath the boiler room, holding the hand of a little
grandmother whom she had never seen before. She couldn't remember where and how she
was abducted by the old lady and how she got here. The room, which is as large as an
auditorium, was covered with yellow floorboards, and the walls were cutely painted with
animals in the jungle. It was full of all kinds of toys, indoor slides, and swings, and six or
seven girls younger than three were playing with oxen or playing with dolls. Her grandmother
called it a playground. The children rushed to their grandmother and showed curiosity to
Sam. She cried asking the grandmother to take her home. Grandmother wiped Sam's tears
and hugged her tightly. Other children began to cry, too. The grandmother hugged the
children one by one and began to soothe them in a thin voice. "Guys, don't be sad if your
mom threw you away. I'll make sure to find your mom." The children hung their little fingers
on their grandmother and stopped crying. Sam clearly told the grandmother her parents'
name, home address, and phone number and asked her to find her home. The grandmother
reassured her by saying she would contact them. She quickly became acquainted with the
other children. It was fun to eat chocolate and snacks and watch TV cartoons as much as
she wanted. The day went by quickly when she played with cows and dolls and ate delicious
food made by the grandmother. Sometimes the children disappeared when she woke up.
The grandmother said that the parents visited the child. The playground was always
crowded because new children who lost their parents continued to come in. The children had
a good time believing that their parents would come soon. Whenever she saw the
grandmother, she said, "I worried that I can't reach your parents since they change their
phone number and home address." So, she stayed there for a little over a month, then
moved into the grandmother's house and lived together with them.
She put her ear to the boiler room door and checked that there was no sound from the
inside. She was relieved that there were no children there when she had no longer heard
anything. On the first floor of the building next to the boiler room, there was a house where
she lived with the grandmother for four years. In front of the front door of the building where
she lived, there were several things, such as an old sofa and a peeled table. For some time,
the two grandmothers were sitting on the sofa staring blankly at Sam's work. Sam was
terribly surprised to find the grandmothers belatedly. The grandmothers were so old that it
was hard to sit down. One was short and fat, and the other had silver hair and a crooked
waist. She went close and checked the faces of the grandmothers, but it was not the
grandmother she was looking for. She couldn't imagine how the face of her grandmother,
who kidnapped her, would have changed, but she seemed to be able to recognize it. asked
the fat old lady with a cane. "Who is it? Are you here to kick us out? There's nowhere to go.
We're all stuck here. " Sam replied. "No, I'm looking for someone. It's a grandmother named
Go Hyun-ja, and she's nearly eighty, and a boy named Bok. " The silver-haired grandmother
next to her said, shaking her head. "Bok-i lives with us, but I don't know about the Granma.
Come in and look for it."

When they asked about her relationship with Bok, she said that she was his younger sister.
Grandma said her blessing would come soon. Sam followed the grandmothers inside. The
grandmothers entered the house at the end of the hall. That's where she lived. The house,
which had a kitchen and living room in two rooms, remained the same, but none of the junk
that my grandmother had piled up remained. She didn't know the house was so spacious.
Her grandmother had a collection wall, so she didn't throw things away, and when she saw
something useful outside, she brought it in. So, there were piles of junk in every corner of the
house.

There were more than ten grandmothers living in the house. "Why are there so many
grandmothers? Is there a lot of this?" "The next door is a grandma too," the fat old lady
added. Most of the grandmothers looked ill. There were three old women: a grandmother,
who appeared to be lying on the floor with her back bent badly, an old woman crouching
down, and an old woman who kept muttering something. The grandmothers who could sit
were sitting around and eating lunch with raw chestnuts and raw sweet potatoes. The
healthy grandmothers put chestnuts in the mouths of the lying grandmothers. "Is there any
Grandmother Go Hyun-ja here?" The grandmothers were so deaf that they couldn't hear
Sam's voice well. She looked closely at the grandmothers' faces to see if the grandmother
she was looking for was in it, but the black mushrooms blooming and wrinkled faces all
looked similar. In addition, she couldn't remember her grandmother's face well, so she
couldn't recognize her. The silver-haired grandmother said that if she had not met luck, she
would have died on the road without theft. Some grandmothers responded, and some
grandmothers were angry, saying that "he had caught us" while biting their tongues and
chewing on sweet potatoes. The grandmothers' reactions were individual, so she couldn't tell
what was right. Sam lay in a corner with her bag on her back and waited for luck. After a
long time, she didn't come here after all.

As the sun went down, the grandmothers lit candles inside the house where the electricity
was cut off. The grandmothers spread a blanket in the room and on the floor early and lay
down next to each other, then quickly fell asleep and started snoring. A grandmother who
had been lying down without a word crawled to Sam's place, held her hand tightly, and said
it in an inaccurate pronunciation. "Burn it... GIbi... Burn it." Sam's heart sank. "Grandma,
what's wrong? What's going on?" The grandmother only repeatedly asked me to take her
home and said nothing else. The silver-haired old lady who heard the sound in her sleep
said to Sam. "Never mind. There are so many mentally ill old people here." However, Sam
was concerned and listened to the missing grandmother. The grandmother repeated her
phone number in a small voice in her ear. She wrote her number in her notebook and
regretted throwing away her cell phone.

Even in the late hours of the night, Bok did not return. She couldn't sleep, so she picked up a
candle and went up and down the hall to open the door of the empty house. All the smells of
humans were erased from the house; the furniture remained intact; and both the wallpaper
and the floorboards were torn away. There were only two houses where grandmothers were
lying down and sleeping soundly. The figure was so bizarre that she stood still and watched
it. The small grandmothers seemed to rust easily when they stepped on them. Is there a
grandmother among them? Sam-eun wanted her to be old like this.

It was not until the next morning that Bok returned. He looked sharp because the tip of his
nose was fluffy and his inner double eyelids were deep. But he was only about a snake's
height taller than her and was slender, so he didn't look threatening. Perhaps because of his
unfamiliar appearance, she felt like he was a complete stranger. He came into the room with
an old lady in his arms and sat her on the blanket. The grandmother could not sit
comfortably because her slender legs were not stretched. The grandmother felt a little
relieved when she saw the grandmothers similar to her in the room. Bok handed four large
plastic bags to her grandmothers. It contained kimbap, sandwiches, drinks, and bottled
water. Everything's fine There's not much to eat, so divide it roughly and fill your stomach.
He spoke indifferently to his grandmother.

Bok was wary of her, who was in a dirty suit. Sam said she visited her grandmother. "There's
a lot here, so look for it." Bok pointed at the grandmothers with his chin and said, "No, it's Go
Hyun-ja." Bok glared at Sam and showed his hostility. "How do you know my grandmother?"
As she peered into her own face, he averted her eyes. "As expected, you don't recognize
me." She was somewhat disappointed. He asked, raising his eyes. "Who are you?"

"It's Sam." Grandma brought her home from the underground playground and named her
Sam. It was named after seeing the number 3 written on the clothes the woman was
wearing.

"Who is Sam?" Bok didn't remember his name when he heard it.

"It was your sister. The sister you abandoned." Grandma said to Bok, clasping Sam's hand.
"You guys are siblings. "Since Bok-I is an Oppa, you have to take good care of her." It was
the first time that the grandmother brought her child home from the playground. Bok thought
the children were different from him, but he wondered that they could become siblings so
soon. Sam whispered in the ear of Bok-bok, secretly to his grandmother. "I wasn't
abandoned, I was kidnapped. I want to go home." Bok quickly told his grandmother. He did
everything his grandmother praised him for. "You don't know where the playground kids are
going, do you? I'm not going to my parents. You'll find out where it is when you go there. If
you keep saying that, I'll let you go." The grandmother said with a smile, affectionately. Sam
was afraid of the wrinkles around his grandmother's eyes, so she abandoned the idea of
going home. However, in order not to forget her phone number, address, and name of her
parents, she would secretly write them on the floor of the room and on the palm of her hand
and erase them. The grandmother loved Sam, saying she looked just like her daughter, who
died young. Bok used to pretend to be his grandmother's biological grandson because he
was dissatisfied with her care and wanted to pay tribute to her. She kept up the good work,
too. "Your Mom left you. I'm not like you. I'm sure my Mom will find me.' Bok could not refute
anything. He was sadder that he was not his grandmother's biological grandson than that he
was an abandoned child. Grandma bought Sam a hairpin and shoes. "Bok-I is an Oppa, so
he doesn't need this." Grandma brought her a pencil and a notebook because she was
proud of the writer. Bok doesn't know how to write, so he doesn't need that. On the day that
Grandma brought Sam a new set of fairy tales, Bok took her to the entrance of an
amusement park in the distance. While she was distracted by a street vendor selling
mysterious items, Bok disappeared. She stood there until sunset and the amusement park
closed. She didn't know if Bok was testing her, so she couldn't go anywhere else easily. He
didn't come back, and she was finally able to go home. If he hadn't abandoned her, she
wouldn't have dared to run away.

"Aha, Sam-i. I really don't recognize you. It was a joke, but I was going to pick you up again.
I didn't know you would disappear like that. We were so sad that you disappeared." Bok
laughed like a thoughtless person. Even though he lost Sam and was beaten a lot by
Grandma, he felt relieved inside. Grandma went out to find Sam, but couldn't find her
because Bok falsely told her where he had lost it. Grandma was sick in bed for a few days.
Bok thought that Grandma might be more grieved when he died, so Bok took all of his
grandmother's headache pills and wandered through life and death.

"Thank you. Thanks to you I able to back home. If not, I would have lived here in this shape."
Sam wanted to hurt him a little more, but it didn't work out.

"Yeah. I'm glad you went back well. You look good, what are you missing?"

"I heard this place it's going to disappear. Where's Grandma? No more kids?"

"No, then. When are you talking about? Grandma's left. It's already been five years. That old
lady, she suddenly disappeared with a piece of paper left."

"Really? Where did she go?" Sam-eun couldn't believe that there was no Grandma among
the many grandmothers Bok had. In addition, Bok's answered was so calm that it was
strange. Sam knew how much Bok followed Grandma. Bok took out a small folded note from
the wallet in the back pocket and opened it. "Adeus! Let's pour Atte Mice!" It was a sloppily
written in Korean on the paper.

"It's a Brazilian word to say goodbye." Bok said proudly to Sam. Sam quickly corrected it to
be Portuguese. "I knew that much, but it was Brazilian for me anyway."

"You're a bit of a pushover because you learned. You just like Grandma. Grandma probably
went to Brazil. Her husband is there, and she sang that she had to go. I'm sure she's living
well there." The grandmother left for Brazil after six years of marriage, saying her daughter
died, and her husband would set up a sewing factory and call her. He never came back and
never called Grandma. As Bok entered puberty, Grandma habitually said, "Now that you're
all grown up, I'm going to Brazil." The grandmother studied Brazilian language to the point
where the Portuguese textbook she picked up from the waste paper collection became soft.
Ddu Du Bing, Kkomubai Cignor, Bang Aubigadu, Ibose, Mui Ddu Prasera, iguaumenchi.
Grandma followed the pronunciation written in Korean on top of Portuguese every night. Bok
warmed his heart as Grandma seemed to talk to him kindly and affectionately. But at the
same time, he was anxious that Grandma would leave with Adeus. Eventually, the
grandmother disappeared without saying a word. Bok found the part where he wrote
goodbye in his grandmother's notebook and put it in his wallet.

Didn't you look it up? That's right. How can I find it? He thought his grandmother had
betrayed him, so there was no point in looking for it. She thought he was lying. In addition,
Brazil, not the U.S. or France, was funny because it showed a mixed experience of using
tricks. It must have been the same psychology that he borrowed the name Sierra Leone, not
Congo or South Africa. I suspected that Bok might be hiding his grandmother among many
grandmothers to monopolize her as a child. Several men came to the apartment yard and
called for luck, so we couldn't talk more. Bok talked to them for a long time. The fat
grandmother was worried that they were trying to kick them out. The grandmothers didn't
seem to know that all the cities were about to be demolished and that everyone had to leave.

Sam set out to find a pay phone. Large and small shops on the street were closed or
packed, and people were busy picking up wood, scrap metal, and used appliances. Most of
the pay phones were not seen to have been collected. The empty payphone booths
occasionally had glass broken or the frame completely crushed. She had to walk a long way
to a residential area to find the phone. She found a pay phone and called the number that
Grandma had told her the night before. It wasn't a number. She checked the number again
and pressed it, but the number wasn't correct.

Even when Bok abandoned her, she wandered around looking for a pay phone. Sam
remembered her home phone number. She dialed the number dozens of times, but only
returned a number that did not exist. Fortunately, she was able to return home because she
had memorized the address. The address she had memorized was no longer her home, so
she traced the address and managed to find her father. Her mother was living in a prayer
center of an emerging religion, so she had lost contact with her.

The missing grandmother's family probably already left the city. She wandered the road for a
long time with heartburn. Many bus stops were demolished, and signs were posted
announcing the abolished routes. Ladder trucks and paved vehicles stood throughout the
houses and buildings. While crossing the street, she encountered Bok coming down from the
apartment. She asked him where he was going.

"Part-time job. We used to do it together. Would you like to go to too?"

"Are you still living like that?"

Sam got nervous and embarrassed. Sam and Bok used to pick up abandoned children.
Originally, it was what Grandma used to do, but after Sam lived together, the two of them did
it. Grandma spent all day in the playground with the children. It took time to observe when
distinguishing between abandoned children and children who had lost their parents. Most of
the children who were exceptionally well-dressed and stood in one place for a long time
waiting for someone were abandoned. After watching for a long time, when the child notices
that he/she has been abandoned, he/she can reach out his/her hand and relax. Most of the
children followed Bok when he promised to find his mother and reassured her that Sam-i
would be really okay. Grandma said it was never a bad thing to pick up an abandoned child.
It's only kidnapping to get up front and lure them with candy or chocolate, she said. She
couldn't figure out why Grandma, who hated the kidnapper, kidnapped her when she wasn't
even abandoned. Sam was worried because he did not know where the children he had
picked up were going. She thought she'd be punished one day.

"Of course. That's all I've learned. If I had learned to kill, I'd be killing by now. Well, that
would be more money. That's too bad." He smiled at himself and looked through his cell
phone and showed her a picture he had sent her. "I'm going to find this grandma. They can't
walk because of arthritis." It is a face that looks like her eyelids are drooping and dozing off,
but it also looked like a portrait because it was a front photo. Sam decided to go with him.

"Do you know how many people are leaving old people as they move? The city uses a
service to hide it and picks up old people. If it is known outside, the development method is
wrong and it becomes noisy. But the funny thing is, these service guys get money from their
children and take the old people. And you get a commission because you're an old man who
picked it up. You're getting paid twice. I mean, even a guy like me makes money. People
who throw away are so shameless. I didn't throw it away, I just put it there. Crazy."

Bok is angry with such people. He remembered being abandoned that way, too. One
summer, his mom came to buy tickets, and she left him and her luggage at the train station
and went inside. While he was waiting for his mother to come out, he was exhausted from
the heat of the asphalt and collapsed. Grandma appeared in front of him in a handcart full of
junk. "Baby, come here." Grandma wiped his sweaty face with a towel around her neck and
hugged him tightly. Bok cried in Grandma's arms. Grandma rode him on her junk and left.
Grandma became Bok's only family.

They went to a cluster of multi-family houses. Abandoned dogs saw them and followed
them, wagging their tails. Recycling companies were removing window frames and gates
from empty multi-family homes. Bok went into the alley. As he went inside, the alley was
bent and split, and Sam closely followed behind Bok in case he lost his way. He knows the
back streets of this city. Grandma put him up in a handcart when he was very young, poking
through the alleys every day and picking up junk. Grandma was so bad at directions that if
he didn't guide her, she would often get lost on the road she always took. They crossed the
fork three times and reached the vacant lot planted by a large persimmon tree. Under the
tree, an old lady dressed in hanbok was sitting on a chair with wheels. Bok checked the
grandmother's face and sent a text message to the service provider saying he found her.
The grandmother was wary of two strangers who appeared in front of her. When Bok pushed
the chair, the grandmother leaned back, flexing her strength not to be dragged away. "Son,
son." The grandmother couldn't say the full sentence after all. Bok sat kneeling in front of the
grandmother and looked into her eyes. "Grandma, don't worry. We'll find your son." Bok
spoke loudly and led Sam to sit next to him. Sam helped out with a word by surprise. "Yes,
Grandma. I'll make sure to find it for you, don't worry." The grandmother's eyes still moved
uneasily, but she no longer gave strength and held out. He began to push the chair on which
the grandmother sat. "It's a completely overpriced job. Everyone doesn't do it because I
chew, but I'm an expert." He chuckled and faltered for a moment. "I'm glad I'm back. I feel
like I'm back in time. And I was sorry then. I didn't come to let you hear that." Sam said
bluntly.

"I really hated you. It's still the same." He immediately answered her lightly. "So do I. I don't
like myself either. So, we're comrades." She felt at ease. She was the only one who knew
her own mistakes and was an accomplice.

Bok searched the empty house for the grandmothers who were left behind, and he was
contacted directly and went to find them. He occasionally found abandoned grandfathers
and was paid a fee to deliver them to a collector. Bok said that the company did not pay for
meals and bought the grandmothers only triangular gimbap and bread. He didn't treat any
grandmother in particular, he didn't show affection, and he didn't even know her name. As
long as the face matched the picture of the cell phone, it was enough. Looking at his
attitude, it was clear that there was no grandmother that Sam was looking for among the
grandmothers. When she asked about Grandma, he got angry and said he didn't want to talk
about her. She went to the pre-closed supermarket to get food. And they found pots and
pans that people had thrown away and set them on fire in the yard to prepare meals. The
well-built grandmothers helped her and made food as if they were proud of their skills. Bok
said he was doing useless things, but he found an open mart and did grocery shopping.

Sam asked Bok why he didn't leave this place and saved money so hard. He said he did not
receive any compensation or migration fees. He was not a citizen of C City because his birth
was not registered, and he said that he would not be able to receive compensation even if
he filed late. He said he needed a lot of money to get his fake passport and flight ticket. As
she advised, "Even if you are late, if you pay a small fine, the birth can be registered," he
said. "If you leave here, you'll forget everything here. I wouldn't want to leave any traces of
my life here." She said. "That doesn't make anything that happened is didn't happen. It's
impossible to forget completely."

The grandmothers played hwatu, smoked, and sang. The grandmother, who is less crippled,
supported the grandmother, who is more uncomfortable in her yard with me and took out
sunflowers. Some grandmothers collected soil from discarded pots, made a small flowerbed
in front of the entrance, and planted weeds and flowers with their heads sticking out
throughout the yard. Sometimes they quarreled and complained that the space was small
and electricity was not coming in, but the grandmothers gradually adapted to the life. The
grandmother, who had been lying down, was able to sit down one day, and the grandmother
with dementia realized who she was. Sometimes people from the service company came out
and examined the identities of the grandmothers. They checked by distinguishing between
grandmothers who knew where they came from and grandmothers who did not know at all.
The two groups are said to be sent to different places. The grandmothers thanked them for
coming to them and asking them this and that without knowing who they were.
Sam thought of M City very occasionally. She was relieved to think that a colleague in the
same uniform was sitting at the bank window where she was sitting and that her desk would
be organized. No one would have noticed her disappearance from M City. Sometimes it will
become a hot topic at company dinners, but that will be it. When she was young, she went to
an empty house, cooked meals alone, did homework alone, and fell asleep alone. She went
to work every day after college and got a job at a bank, and when she became an adult, her
parents stopped contacting her. No one came to visit her. She felt like it was all a long time
ago and it had nothing to do with her.

The week has come to an end. Most of the citizens fled, and all government offices were
temporarily relocated to other cities. A broadcast recommending that everyone go out
instead of hiding rang out every hour like a timepiece. Police and service companies in the
next city were also mobilized to patrol whether anyone remained in the empty house. The
vagrants who were living in the vacant house where the owner left were expelled from the
city. Most of the city's buses were closed, and train and intercity bus service hours were
drastically reduced. The streets were bustling with police cars, ambulances, recycling bins,
and animal shelters.

Bok's work is all done. He came back with the money for the number of people and told the
grandmothers. "Grandmothers, you can go to a good place now. The government will help
you live in a place with good electricity and water until your children come to find you. Now
that winter is coming, you can't live here." The grandmothers were agitated. The
grandmothers said they would stay at C City, saying that if they go anywhere else, their
children will not be able to find them even if they try to find them. Some grandmother said,
"I'm happier now than when I lived with my child, so I can live here and die," and told me to
leave it alone. Bok couldn't bear to tell the grandmothers that the entire city of C would be
demolished and that everyone had already left.

The service company sent several transport vehicles. The grandmothers planned to be
distributed to welfare centers, elderly hospitals, and hospice villages in various cities
depending on their conditions. The uphill road to the apartment was narrowed by concrete
debris, making it impossible for vehicles to enter. Bok and Sam went down to the main road
under the apartment building with their grandmothers who could walk. Seeing the ruined
streets, the grandmothers held each other's hands tightly. Bok carried all the disabled old
men in his arms. The grandmothers gathered on the main street and waited for the vehicle.
All the vehicles arrived and started boarding. Grandmothers with dementia like to ride cars
like children and wave their hands out the window. The grandmothers who cooked and
played hwatu with Sam sat forward and did not even say hello. The grandmothers, who were
sad to be separated from the people they were close to, begged the company's employees
to send them together, and it took a long time for them to leave the place because there was
also a grandmother who made a fuss not to get in the car. Sam was heartbroken because
she seemed to be doing something wrong to them.

Sam and Bok, who remained in the apartment, sat on the sofa in the yard without saying a
word and smoked a cigarette, as the grandmothers did. She asked him. "Where are you
going now?" "I will leave for Brazil as soon as my passport is ready." Bok nodded his head
as if he were determined again. "Is she really there?" "It has nothing to do with Grandma.
When I was young, I used to listen to Brazilian songs all day in front of the train station. I
wanted to go there because the language of that country was so sweet and friendly. There's
no other reason. That's the most important thing to me." Sam seemed to be able to
understand his mind more deeply than anyone else. "You're going back soon, right?" His
question made her realize that she had nowhere to go back in the world.

"But what does Grandma look like? I can't remember no matter how hard I think about it."
When Sam asked, he said he was not interested. "I don't remember because it's been a
while. I'm sure she's old. Let's not talk about grandma." She hoped to see a picture of the
apartment and the city before it disappeared. He reluctantly opened the boiler room door and
took her underground. It's all going to be gone anyway. He lit the inside with a flashlight
placed in front of the door. It wasn't as wide as she remember. After Sam left, the
grandmother promised Bok that she would no longer pick up anything like a child. Bok is
Grandma's only family, she said with her own mouth. However, he could not see a happy-
looking Grandma like when all three children were together. Grandma's collection wall got
worse and worse, and not only the house but also the hallway of the apartment were filled
with clutter. When Bok tried to throw away the trash, Grandma cried while hitting him. "Even
if other people point at me, you shouldn't do that. It's only you and me in this world, you
bastard." Bok left Grandma alone. In the end, even the playground where the children used
to play had no room for stepping because of Grandma's junk. Grandma used to look at the
junk there for a long time, just as she used to play with the kids. "We fought a lot because
the old man wouldn't even let us in here. I was so angry that I promised I'd never look into it."

There was a disorderly pile of things that Grandma had collected, and there was a thick layer
of dust on them. When Sam was there, the things in the house were also moved there. Her
husband's silver case, cigarette silver foil, shoe knife, young dead daughter's belly jacket,
red enamel shoes, one-stringed chick glove, and dozens of sketchbooks, skinny laundry
dryers, dozens of umbrellas, ten hats, television sets, remote controls, numerous bowls, and
a low-browned book. The two rummaged through their luggage to find the picture. She was
surprised to find the headband she bought her, the clothes she wore alternately with Bok,
the three-letter T-shirt she was wearing when she came here, the paintings she drew on the
drawing paper, the letters she clearly wrote on the back of the calendar, and things she
didn't remember. "Oh, my God, you had all this." In another corner, several old sewing
machines, clothes, colored threads, and crushed thimbles were piled up that they picked up
on the road to take them when they went to Brazil. There were also notes and several
textbooks in Portuguese that studied Portuguese. "You studied hard, too." When she picked
up the most tattered textbook, a passport, which had been stuck between the books, fell off.
"It was Grandma's passport." Bok was heartbroken. On the day Grandma found her
passport at the district office, he returned alone, leaving his beloved grandmother on her
way, saying that she could now go to Brazil. Grandma wandered for more than two hours on
her usual path and said, "I feel like I'm losing my mind." "Grandma is not good at directions."
He answered indifferently. A few days later, Grandma left the house and didn't come back.
Since Grandma carried the passport on her body as if she were serving a Shinju complex,
Bok naturally thought that Grandma would have taken it. Sam asked, pointing to a passport
photo. "Is that Grandma? "I can't possibly know her." In the same way, Bok was confused
about whether Grandma's face was correct. He took out the album from among the piles of
junk and opened it, but all of them were pictures of different faces.
They got a call from the service company. One grandmother disappeared while boarding, so
they asked them to find her. "She said she had gone somewhere while she was waiting for
the car. She had to go home to get a photo," the caller said, although her body was in good
shape and her dementia was bad and she didn't know who she was. He said that it was now
out of his hands, and he ignored it, saying that he would not do it. The sun is setting. Sam
pushed him out to find the grandmother. The two walked about 20 minutes to the
neighborhood where they brought the grandmother. All the houses on the outside line of the
alley were demolished and became large vacant lots. If the grandmother went into an empty
house in the alley and hid, it would be difficult to find and she could have an accident. The
sun went down quickly, and it was hard to distinguish the front because there were no
streetlights as well as the moon, but as they continued to walk, they became a little used to
the dark. They called the grandmother and snooped around the alley and empty house, but
only small beasts roamed around the alley and there was no sign of movement. Bok's chest
was pounding the whole time. Bok thought of Grandma, who used to get lost often. When
she disappeared forever, Bok didn't seek her out because he thought he had been
abandoned twice. He was 18 years old at the time. He regretted belatedly that it would have
been nice if he had looked it up like this. It occurred to him that perhaps Grandma was lost
and could not return home because she had been wandering somewhere for a long time.
"Every time I turned the corner, an old lady popped out of the dark alley, and I thought I
would laugh, "There are so many alleys, and every time I come out, it's a different world.""
He desperately ran down the alley looking for Grandma and searching through the empty
house.

While Sam looked into the empty house, Bok overtook her. At the crossroads, the two were
completely separated. She was trapped in an alley in the neighborhood for the first time in
her life, unable to know where to go. The buildings were all similar-looking single-story
houses, so she felt like she was circling the same place. No matter how much she walked,
there was no sign that the main road would come into view. There was no answer even if
she called out Bok loudly. She stood there waiting for him so that the roads wouldn't cross.
She remembered a long time ago, standing in an alley crying and waiting for someone to
come. At that time, Grandma came up and wiped her tears, and Bok gave her a seat in the
handcart. On the way back from coming to the amusement park in C City for the first time
with her mother, she entered the alley without going to the main street. Her mother, who was
walking behind her, disappeared like magic. She thought her mother was playing with her,
and grinned and wandered the alley, but could not find her mother. It was a common
occurrence that she often witnessed in C City, where there were many deep alleys, so it was
hard to tell if the memory was real. It could have been a story she told her friends, a book
she read, or a story about the children she picked up. However, the touch of Grandma's
palm, which was wiping away tears, was alive. She managed to find her way by following the
distant call of Bok. He spoke with a sweaty expression on his face. "I didn't find her. What if
something happens to the old man on the road?" They came out to the main street.

A silhouette of a person crouching in front of the rubble of collapsed buildings was seen at
the entrance of the alley. "It wasn't there before, but is it Grandma?" They approached the
crouching figure. He sat with his face buried in his lap and didn't budge. "Grandma?" Sam
called carefully, and the person sitting up raised her head sharply. Sam looked in the dark at
his dimly visible face. The forehead, deep wrinkles around the mouth, squishy nights, and
drooping eyes looked similar to the grandmother they were looking for. "Oh, it's Grandma."
He looked at the grandmother's face and said, "No, it looks completely different." She looked
back and looked like their grandmother. She asked Bok again. "Isn't that our grandmother?"
He looked closely at the crouching figure in doubt. "I don't think so." He said so, then asked
her. "Are you our grandmother?" The figure looked at them with a smile but did not answer.
Bok seemed to have a slight resemblance to the faces of all the grandmothers he had picked
up. However, if you looked again, it was hard to tell whether it was a man or a woman, a
child or an old man. Sam whispered to Bok. "Who is this person?" Every time they blinked,
the person's face changed into a different expression. Bok whispered to Sam. "I don't know.
What is it? How can we see that face when it's so dark? I can't see your face..." They were
afraid of the unknown man and tried to leave. Then the man sitting silently opened his
mouth. "Take me with you." It was a very soft, slow voice. They hesitated for a moment, and
then asked to follow. For some reason, it looked ominous, but they thought they would regret
it if they left it. "Follow me." The two held each other's hands tightly. The man shook himself
up and was only as tall as the waist of the blessing. They were horrified and began to walk
forward. "Are you following me?" asked Bok. A small sound was heard from behind. "Sure."
They walked a little faster without looking back. Sam asked. "Are you still following me?" A
sound could be heard from a little further afield. "Yes," only three steps rang out on the
streets of the deserted city where everyone had fled. They were afraid that they could not
know what was following them, but they slowed down the pace of walking little by little so
that they could follow. A warning broadcast was ringing from the speakers installed on the
side of the road that they would take all those still in the city. It was the day before the city
shut down.
Chapter 4 - Chapter 4 : A Person Who Makes Mistakes
He killed Jeong-ya. It was a mistake. He wasn't flashy, but he was cute and kind. When
Seok-won brought the flowerpot, the flower-like green leaves were tightly filled with water.
The plump leaves, smaller than a single finger, could not withstand his constant fiddling
power and easily crumbled. The moment the thick, transparent sap wrapped around his
fingers, he was ashamed that he had accidentally injured that little thing again. He vowed not
to touch it again, but without realizing it, he kept fiddling with the leaves. Not long after
midnight, like other plants, all the leaves were damaged, leaving only thin branches. He felt
guilty every time a plant died. If they had met a better owner than themselves, if they had
lived in a sunny and airy place, they would not have died and could have lived a little longer.
However, it was hard to get rid of the habit of making mistakes, and there was no ability to
move to a more sunny room. He had been staying for three years in a room in an inn
cheaper than Goshiwon's windowless room. He ran out of money to pay the rent, so he was
in a situation where he ate and slept while helping the owner with his work for about a year.

He grew several large and small pots in a small room full of beds and closets. Most of them
were air-purifying plants or succulent plants that did not require much effort. There was a
small window in the room, but it was in contact with the wall of the next building about three
snakes away. The plants bent toward the sunlight barely coming in through the building.
Despite such struggles, they were crushed by his fingers or withered to death by his own
grass. There were more dead plants in the room than living ones. He put some potted plants
in black plastic bags as if they were garbage. There were some that weren't completely dead
yet, but he didn't intend to prolong their lives. It was heartbreaking when the plant he had
been fond of became ill due to its ugly appearance. He only thought he had to take it out of
the room as soon as possible because it was about to rot with a bad smell.

At dawn, when the owner woman, who was asleep, returned to the counter, he took out a
plastic bag containing a flowerpot and a flower shovel from his room and went out to
exercise. When she asked what was in the plastic bag, he didn't answer, concealing it to one
side as if it were something great. She didn't get an answer every time, but she didn't stop
asking questions, and he didn't tell her about his private life. "Why exercise when you can't
even go to sleep? A person who is physically weak. Hurry up and go home and sleep." She
kept the counter all night and told him she was going to work out at dawn after receiving a
guest. "No," he answered briefly, and he left the inn. He worked out early every morning
since he was helping out at the inn, and she also nagged every single day. He wanted to tell
her to stop nagging, but he only said yes or no, because he was working for her and he was
afraid that once he started talking back, it would take longer. Silence and patience were his
only virtues.

He climbed the back mountain, 10 minutes away. Except for the days when it rained a lot, he
never missed exercising at dawn. Even though he was tired from keeping the counter all
night, he couldn't fall asleep easily without exercising. People climbing up the mountain for
morning exercise looked full of boiling energy. When he saw the elderly men running fast
toward the mountain, he was terrified as if his deceased father was following him. His father
slept four hours a day all his life, and he thought humans who slept more than that were
trash. His father never got tired after completing the three-hour hiking course every morning.
The father's body, which had no fat, was tanned and hardened with small muscles. It was a
moment before such a healthy person died. His father died when he fell upside down while
climbing down a ladder from the roof. It was an accident that occurred when a ladder tripped
over a bridge wielded by Seok-won in the air. His father used to swear that he would have a
major accident and rot in his cell for the rest of his life, which he would never have imagined
would be his death. Seok-won felt scared and strange relief when he saw the blood pouring
from his father's back. He spoke quietly to his fallen father.

"It's a mistake, Dad. You know it well."

His father opened his eyes but didn't answer.

He left the house and never returned. He found all the money he had saved and hid in an
inn in a neighborhood he had never been to before. He thought for a while between the two
options, whether to turn himself in or hide deeper and hope that his mistakes would not be
revealed, and quickly forgot and fell asleep.

Come to think of it, he didn't know when he had enough sleep. He has had two or three part-
time jobs since he was in middle school. He delivered newspapers at dawn and worked part-
time at a convenience store at night. During the vacation, he erased the blackboard of the
cram school, cleaned, listened to lectures, and distributed leaflets to people on the street.
His goal was to save money quickly and leave the house with his sister. His parents didn't
give him pocket money, and they didn't buy him anything, not even trifles, such as a
toothbrush, let alone clothes. He couldn't save money easily because he had to buy food. It
was fortunate that a large sum of money did not go out because he could sleep at home.
Having endured the day with the strength of coffee and fatigue relievers, he was always tired
and dazed. His consciousness finally cleared up after sleeping and waking up for about a
week. Come to think of it, what he thought was normal was a little sleepy, and it seemed that
he was bound to make frequent mistakes. It was all his father's fault. He would have slept a
little better if he had allowed him to eat at home, and he would have made fewer mistakes if
he had only given him a cup of tea. What he decided after waking up in the morning was that
he should stay in the inn until he had spent all his money and think about what to do in the
future. He felt a similar weight of guilt when he accidentally ran over and killed a local dog he
had seen since childhood. He felt at ease when he remembered that his stepmother and
sister must be very grateful to someone who sent his father to that world. He vowed not to
meet them for the rest of his life. He thought that the fact that he could no longer see his
sister was paying the price for him. He wanted them to forget his dad and live happily ever
after.

He seemed to feel intimidated and drained of energy just by making eye contact with people
full of energy like his father, but on the other hand, he laughed at the thought of "You guys
are going to die anyway." He left the promenade, dug a hole in a quiet vacant lot in the
middle of the mountain, shook a plastic bag, and buried it in a pot. Every time he buried a
dead plant in the ground, he decided not to do this again, but the moment he burried and
turned around and popped his hand, he quickly forgot that promise and would do the same
thing over and over again.

The female owner set up a breakfast table in the counter and office room and waited for him.
Even if she said she would take care of the meal alone, the woman made a useless fuss,
saying, "If a person who is clumsy does not eat properly, he or she will collapse." He refused
unnecessary favours and he didn't eat without answering every time, but she didn't mind.
She thought he was acting like that because he was a reticent and shy person, and that he
didn't even bother her. She interprets and understands his behaviour according to his own
convenience, saying that he is shy about eating together, is sorry to have to set the table, is
not feeling well, and is refusing to go to bed quickly. She believed that one day he would sit
down and eat with her.

He felt uncomfortable sitting at a table with others and felt burdened by excessive kindness.
Above all, the smell of dirty life, including the smell of food, in the room was disgusting. The
smell could not easily escape the room and permeated the clothes and bedding. The
woman's body, which occupied a room next to the kitchen, always smelled stale, but she
didn't seem to know why. He was afraid that he would not notice the smell of his body, like
that woman. Without touching the rice, he ground boiled chicken breast, tofu, and tomatoes
together. He hated the act of eating itself, but he could not starve himself because he was
weak. The fishy smell came up his throat, but he swallowed it with the thought that the
protein food would make him healthy. And before he fell asleep, he turned on his laptop to
write a sentence, line by line.

The first and last thing he bought after entering the inn was a used laptop. He crouched in
front of his laptop day and night to see if there was an article about his father's death. He
sometimes ate, washed up, and slept whenever he thought of it. His endless sleep, or
endless sleeplessness, connected days like a day. As he lived like that, time seemed to pass
slowly, but when he woke up, a week and a month had passed at once. Even after a long
time, there was no article about his father's death. It was probably treated as an accident. He
relaxed a bit and tried to write the story of his accidental life and the story of his father, who
lost his life as a result. By the time the writing was completed, he thought his mind would be
cleared and he could decide the way forward. However, he could not complete the writing
until he ran out of money to pay the rent. Completing the writing seemed more difficult than
organizing his mind.

He's been writing the same sentence over and over for over two years. "I killed my father. It
was a mistake. No, it wasn't a mistake. No, it was a mistake...?" As he wrote the sentence,
he felt that what he was doing was not actually happening but only existing in a sentence.
He thought about the sentence to write after that, but he couldn't figure out how to write it to
lessen the impact of the previous sentence. He tried to write regularly every day, but he
rarely made progress. He went to an internet portal site and read articles that were updated
every minute. He no longer found articles about his father's death, but he found an article
that could be mixed with what he had done to make up a story.

He clicked on a photo of a man hanging on the portal site's News of the Day. A wanted
article and a montage of the suspect in a murder case that happened a while ago. It was a
very low face. The suspect was thin, high-nosed, large-eyed, and had a boy-like face. The
175-centimeter-tall, thin-built man is a suspect who killed a 42-year-old woman and
abandoned her body and is likely to be the same person as the suspect in a series of
murders in the northwest. He was not shocked because he had encountered such incidents
countless times in the media. The suspect's name was Kim Seok-won and he was 25 years
old. It was amazing that the suspect had the same name as him and the same physical
condition. He searched for his name on the Internet search box. Then numerous articles
about the murder were searched. The newspaper company was different, but the content
was similar. A woman's right lower gourd with damaged fingerprints was found severely
decomposed on a hill near Seoul, where construction of an apartment building was in full
swing, and DNA tests revealed that the body was identified as a woman surnamed Seo. The
rest of the body has yet to be discovered. The daughter of a woman named Kim Seok-won,
another brother of the ship, is a suspect. It has not yet been identified as the culprit, but
various details about the suspect have been released. The suspect was born in D city and
abused by his father and stepmother, a victim surnamed Seo. After he was discharged from
the military due to asthma, he has lost contact with his family, is unknown, and his resident
registration has been canceled. The police saw it as a revenge murder. It also revealed that
the methods of serial killings in the northwest and the abandonment of corpses that have
continued since last year are similar.

He realized that the information describing the suspect was pointing directly at him. D city
which is his hometown, a stepmother and a half-sister, and a 42-year-old mother-in-law.
There could not have been a person with the same name whose life was completely
consistent. The sketch looked a lot like a picture of his father's youth. The eyes that do not
show any emotion, as if they were inserted with cold-looking thin lips and glass eggs, are
exceptionally similar. His father was cleanly handsome and kind to others. When he lived
alone with his father, when he was a kindergarten kid, his father used to lash him severely,
saying that he messed up the house and couldn't cook properly. He tried hard to clean and
prepare meals to avoid being scolded, but he couldn't have liked the work of a child who
didn't even go to elementary school. He trembled so much that he couldn't breathe just at
the sound of his father coming in. The intensity of the violence grew stronger, throwing him
away or kicking him till he fell to the floor. No one stopped him, so he had to be beaten to the
end. His body was still alive. His father pretended to be worried about the child, saying it was
a big deal because the child fell and fell. People who knew his father never imagined that he
would hit his child. He had never heard of his own mother but vaguely thought she had fled
or died because of his father's violence. He used to dream that his mother or a very strong
relative would appear and save him. Unfortunately, his father was his only guardian. As he
grew older, he resembled his father a lot. The smile on his face, which he is in his mid-20s,
has already disappeared, but his features are completely identical to his father's. He felt
terrible looking in the mirror because his father seemed to be sitting in the mirror staring at
him with those glass-like eyes. He knew that the face in the montage was older than he was,
but it was his own. Since he didn't have a picture of him at home, he seemed to have drawn
a sketch referring to his father's youth picture, which looks most like him.

He thought his stepmother and sister would be doing just fine, even if they weren't very
happy. But he couldn't believe that he had suffered such a disgrace. Furthermore, it was
crazy to think that his brother had misunderstood that he was the one who had killed his
mother. He remembered his childhood when he first saw his young and pretty stepmother as
vividly as if it were yesterday. He shed tears because he was sad that he couldn't go back to
that time, but it was only for a moment. He felt his body grow cold with fear. He couldn't
press the keyboard properly because his hands were shaking unknowingly. He was
concerned because he had no idea who had murdered his stepmother or why his brother
had named him as a suspect, and he was concerned because he had no idea what would
happen to him in the future. It was frightening beyond comparison with the accidental death
of his father. He didn't know what to do. He felt like he had gone back to the day he first
came to the inn. He fell back into the big dilemma of whether to turn himself in or hide
quietly. As he tries to explain himself and prove his alibi to get rid of the frame, the truth
about his father's death will come to light. He simply did not want to appear at the police
station because he had lost the desire to pay for it.

His head got complicated, so he cleaned the hallway and the guest room, and cleaned the
public bath, bathroom, and lockers with detergent. Then, he couldn't sleep, so he washed
the blankets and hung them on the rooftop. The female owner was uneasy when he, who
moved at the same time every day, cleaned unusually without sleeping. It was only a small
change for her, but she wondered if he was about to leave.

When he had not been out of the room for nearly two years, he slipped out and began to
help out with the inn's chores. She thought he might leave. At that time, she thought he was
a pathetic guy who seemed to have no dreams or hope, so she didn't really care whether he
left or not. He oiled the hinges of the creaky door or pierced the often clogged toilet, resolved
a quarrel with a drunkard, and guarded the counter at dawn instead of her lack of night
sleep. She had no husband or children to help her with such work, and her business was not
going well, so she was too busy to use people, so he was very helpful. He couldn't pay his
rent for the first time that month. He said he couldn't live anymore because he didn't have
money, and he wanted to help with her work even a little before going out, because he had
been comfortable here. She wanted a reliable man to keep working by her side. Unable to
afford to pay his salary, she asked to work together on the condition that she waived
accommodation fees. She thought she had succeeded in catching him, but she was only
caught in his plan to stay there. He was desperate because he couldn't afford to live there.

He spoke little, as he did when he was a guest. She wondered what kind of person he was
and what he was thinking. She tried to talk to him this and that to get closer, but he only did
his job and didn't even have a good conversation.

In the evening, police officer Yoo of the district police brought a wanted leaflet. As usual,
police officer Yoo made sure there was nothing wrong with the inn, told him to press the
emergency bell in an emergency, and collected the money for cigarettes given by the female
owner. The emergency bell hanging on the wall under the desk is directly connected to the
district office, and it was put on by the police station when the inn was robbed 10 years ago.
Fortunately, there has been no incident that has caused us to ring the bell since it was
installed. She thought she was lucky because she had only been robbed of money and
hadn't suffered from any ever after more than 10 years of running an inn. She didn't think
anything bad would happen in the future. In addition, she thought she didn't have to worry
too much because she has Seok-won now. Although the two had nothing to do with each
other, it was reassuring that he occupied a room and was by her side. Perhaps because she
had been lonely for a long time, she felt more dependent on him. She broke up less than a
year after the affair of her husband, whom she met at the age of 20, and also severed her
ties with her parents, who were opposed to her divorce. She lost her motivation to live when
her only dependent sister sneaked out her entire property, a monthly rent deposit, and ran
away. The innkeeper's man rescued her, who was wandering around in a small room and an
inn with homeless people. The 27-year-old owner has lived with her for five years. The
owner's man, who was too short to get married, cherished her as a treasure. She didn't like
old and ugly men very much, so she used to rock around and pretend to be leaving soon.
Only after he died of cirrhosis did she realize that he had lost a large fence and vowed not to
meet any man. She hasn't been close to anyone since then, not even a man.

She glued a leaflet to the inside of the front door, and her eyes were visibly clear. While she
thought it looked like Seok-won, her heart sank when she saw the contents of the incident
written under the montage and the name Kim Seok-won. She carried it into the office with
the leaflets and looked closely. He was a little younger and colder than that, but looking at
his features, he seemed to be right. But she wouldn't have even suspected him if he hadn't
written his name. She guaranteed that she could distinguish between those who could
commit crimes and those who could not because she had lived a rough life in her own way.
At least she didn't think he was the one. Seok-won, who came out for the evening shift,
stopped there when he saw a wanted leaflet with his montage placed in front of her. She
noticed that he recognized him. She noticed that he was visibly nervous. She slipped a
leaflet in front of him. Seok-won wanted to say that he didn't do it, that he was unfair, and
that there was a mistake, but he couldn't shut his mouth off because it was no longer an
excuse for the person who stayed still, and he didn't think she would believe it if he suddenly
talked a lot. She pointed to the sketch of the leaflet and asked lightly, like a hollow man.

"This is you, right? You look a lot alike. What's really going on?" She was very rigid, but he
was more grateful that she asked him directly.

"No, it is true, that is me, but I don't know what really happened. Please trust me. I don't
know if the police will believe me, and really, I'm thinking about what to do. I'm leaving soon,
so please don't report it first."

She saw him speak such a long sentence quickly for the first time. The anxiety and fear he
felt were conveyed as they were, and the distance between the two felt very close. She was
excited to see him differently than usual. She thought it was obvious that he was
misunderstood. He did not go out except for an hour's morning exercise, and remained on
holiday. There were no cell phones, no inn calls, and no one came to visit him. It would take
more than two hours to return to and from S-gu, where the body was dumped, or to the
northwest, where a series of murders took place, but it was impossible to do anything there.
Even without such clear evidence, she would have believed him. He wasn't shy, but he was
a gentle and sincere person. He wasn't strong enough to kill anyone. He has never made a
loud noise or said anything negative.

"I'll go with you to the police station. Can't you just say that you've never left here?"

He was relieved when she actively revealed that she believed, but he could not answer
because he did not want to go to the police station. She was terrified but she found him cute.

"All right, I'll just pretend I didn't see it."

She crumpled the leaflets and threw them in the trash can and inspected his hand with one
hand. A rough palm touched the back of his hand. Normally, he would have waved his hand
away, but he couldn't. The face of the female owner, who had always withered, sparkled. He
couldn't tell if she really believed him or if she had any other intentions. It was also
questionable whether he would be able to shake off the temptation in a situation where
reporting would generate a considerable amount of money, but he was grateful that she
believed it for now. He had no friends to trust and rely on, and he had no home to return to,
so even if he left there, there was no solution. The inn was the safest place.

He searched for Internet articles several times a day. He thought it might have been a
mistake to identify himself as a suspect. However, there was no correction article, and
additional articles were searched saying that the suspect's whereabouts were unknown.
Even in the middle of the night, his mind changed several times. The idea of going to the
police station proudly because it was not what he did and the idea that no one would find
him if he lived in an inn, as he does now, continued to intersect. He'll have to prove his
innocence when he thinks of his sister, who is left alone and must have mistakenly thought
he killed her mother. He still couldn't figure out what to do.

His life was completely ruined. He couldn't go to work out at dawn, and he couldn't come out
of the room during the day. He tried to write because he had nothing to do. "My mother
died." After writing a single sentence, he became uncontrollably sad and couldn't write
anymore. He seemed to rot, smelling like dead plants he had yet to throw away. He didn't
clean during the day so that resting guests or police officers on patrol would not see him,
and no blankets were hung on the roof to prevent passerby from passing under the building
by chance. What he was doing was entirely up to the female owner. She often got annoyed,
saying she was not a fan because she had been doing it alone for a long time.

He grew a beard at the suggestion of a female owner. After half a day of shaving, he did not
touch his beard, which used to come up rough, so his lower jaw was covered with a beard in
a few days. He compared the face in the mirror to a montage picture. His eyes, which looked
just like his father's, could not be hidden, but at first glance he looked like a completely
different person. After the sharp jawline and slender neck were covered in the beard, he
looked like an old bachelor, about ten years older than his age. She liked the way he looked.
The age gap with him narrowed a lot, and at first glance, he seemed to be the same age as
her. She thought that with a little grooming, the two might become a well-matched pair. She
bought him some old-looking clothes, such as narrow-ankled polyester suit pants and
checkered shirts. He didn't want to wear what middle-aged men who weren't interested in
fashion would wear. She was furious at him for not touching the clothes without saying a
word.

"You still haven't gotten it together, right? Is it time to dress up? I'm telling you to wear it so
that no one else recognizes it. How long do you think you can hide here?"

He was terrified that she would be chased away. Not knowing how to respond, he kept his
mouth shut. Then she became more and more angry and yelled at him for ignoring her,
pointing to his reticent attitude. She said that it was okay to be marked as a suspect because
he acted so grimly. It was the first time she'd acted that way. He felt like a debtor. It was
bitter to think that she wouldn't have been treated this way if she hadn't held onto his
weakness. Still, he had no choice but to endure it because he was weak. He apologized and
put on the clothes she had bought him. It was strange to see himself in that dress, as if he
had become a different person. She was satisfied that no one would recognize him. She put
his clothes in the trash, saying that throwing away all the old clothes would solve the
problem. He was displeased that she seemed to have pushed her foot into his life, but it was
inevitable.

After that, she became conspicuously questionable. She constantly asked him what she
couldn't ask him. He thought it would be over if he accidentally told her about his father's
death. He didn't know how to jump out when he started talking, so he tried to keep silent as
much as possible. She screamed like a madman if he didn't answer.

"If you keep your mouth shut, I can't help but doubt it. I'm asking because I want to trust you.
Don't you know? Is it because you don't trust me?"

She wanted to know him inside and out, but he wouldn't say a word about himself. But he
was in a position where he could no longer be silent.

"I guess you didn't get along with your stepmother. Did you get hit a lot?"

"No, it's a ridiculous report. Not all stepmothers are mean."

He answered moderately so as not to offend her or doubt himself.

It was a lie that the stepmother did not abuse him. She was a kindergarten teacher who felt
sorry for him without his mother. She married his father, who was 12 years younger than he
was when he was in first grade. She mistook her father for being a good and kind person, as
others did. The father was kind to his stepmother for a while, and the stepmother gave him a
lot of love when he grew up without a mother. He misunderstood that a good stepmother had
changed his father because his father no longer beat him. He was so happy, but he was
always anxious that the time would soon end. Like his worries, the period quickly ended with
the birth of his stepmother. When the stepmother quit kindergarten to raise her baby and
become a full-time housewife, the father showed up. She began to curse as a bug-like
woman who lives on money by finding fault with trivial chores such as dust stuck in the
mosquito net or not properly wiping the gas stove. The father used to get angry at his
stepmother, saying, "I don't know why I'm having a hard time feeding things like you," and it
always led to violence.

Violence is easily contagious. His stepmother, who suffered from depression, also began to
abuse him. The stepmother didn't feed him. She kicked him out into the yard and locked the
door at meal time, saying that he had to fix his appetite. His father was yelling at him to keep
him from peeping into the house. He stood with his back turned from the room to prevent
eye contact with his father and nailed off the leaves of his favorite bonsai, or plant. Whether
his father's pot was damaged or not, he chose to offend him because he was hit anyway.
The stepmother also abused her daughter, whom she gave birth to. She slapped the
newborn baby until she got a swollen chest and broke her arm. He told his father and others
that he had hurt his sister by mistake. When the father started to hit his stepmother, he
would take his sister outside and come in when the night fell. He hoped his sister wouldn't
remember their childhood. Every day he was horrified, but he was comforted by the fact that
his sister was being abused just like him. He grew up against his father. His father was too
big and strong. When his younger sister and stepmother were hit, he could not stop him, and
he just wanted to stay in the room and not spark himself. He couldn't easily forgive his
stepmother, but he couldn't hate her. He felt pity for her, who met the wrong man, lived in
hell for the rest of her life and ended her life in a terrible way. Tears welled up when he
remembered his stepmother. The female owner saw tears falling from his eyes. She looked
as if he were infinitely weak.

"It's okay to think of me as a mother.”

She held him in her arms. He hoped that someone would embrace him for a long time, but it
was different from what he had imagined. Her body was too hot and soggy. It wouldn't feel
like this in your mother's arms. He hated the touch of her body on her bare skin, but he
couldn't push it away.

He failed to reject her recommendations. She cooked rice and made side dishes for him. He
poured food into the trash can in front of his eyes if he didn't eat as quietly as he used to.
They ate together in her room. She spread the fish like a mother and didn't leave any side
dishes. It was hard to even breathe in a small room filled with the smell of food, but he sat
down and ate like a good child. "Was your mom pretty? Did she cook well?" He lied to her,
who asked unnecessarily, "Have you grown taller?" He talked of his stepmother as if she
were a perfect mother who could hardly exist in the world. She felt an indistinct feeling of
affection or motherhood for a man who was obedient and responsive. He felt a sense of loss
of heat to his stepmother, who was not even in the world, but she consoled him by telling
him that it was she who lived with him.

He had become so used to the smell of the female owner that he didn't care whether he ate
with her or did anything, but the very existence itself was unbearable. He decided to appear
at the police station and tell the truth. It would be difficult to reveal the truth, but if he stayed
there, he felt like he would lose his life to the woman. It was easy to make a decision as he
desperately gave up, saying that he could not help it even if it was revealed that he had
killed his father. He asked her to go to the police and testify to her alibi that she had stayed
at the inn. She was worried that he would leave. The time he couldn't stand was precious to
her, and she never wanted to lose it. She said it would be useless to testify and told him to
think carefully about his situation. Cutting off contact with his family for no reason and
spending years alone in an inn, staying in a room without a job or friends, and just surfing
the web, may be an excuse to accuse him of being a criminal. In the eyes of the police, it
was clear that even working hard at dawn would seem suspicious. His life was the same as
it was yesterday and today, and he did his job honestly, but only he knew that, and there
was no way to prove it. The police couldn't listen or believe him, who had already been
branded a suspect. In addition, it was highly likely that the words of the innkeeper, who had
spent several years with him, were not credible. She convinced him that he could live alone
in the inn as he is now. Just as he couldn't continue the next sentence by writing the same
sentence over and over again, he couldn't take a single step forward in the same position.

He wanted to let his sister know that he did not kill her mother, even if no one believed him.
Taking advantage of the early dawn when there were no guests at the inn, he checked that
the female owner was sleeping and went outside. As he walked in the clothes that the
woman bought him with a beard, no one seemed to recognize him. As the sun was barely
out, there were not many people on the roads and buses, and no one cared about him. He
took a bus for a little over an hour and went far from the neighbourhood where Yeo In-sook
was. He called home in search of a pay phone, but with difficulty. Perhaps his sister would
no longer live in the house where the ugly things happened, but all he knew was a home
phone. It was a long time before someone answered the phone. His 19-year-old sister's
voice was still like a child's. He was so glad to hear her unchanging voice, he called out his
sister's name.

"Seok-kyung ah."

There was a moment of silence over the phone. After confirming that the phone was not cut
off, he called her name again and heard a quiet but sharp voice.

"What? You're calling me now? You'll be caught for sure."

He was stunned by her harsh tone. It was heartbreaking that he seemed to be responsible
for the cute and affectionate child's change.

"Seok-kyung ah, is it very hard? I'm sorry. I haven't been able to contact you in a while. I
knew you'd be doing well. But I didn't do that to Mom. I don't know why you said you saw
me, but I never went home after Dad died. I don't know anyone else, but you have to trust
me."

"You know, he's dead You didn't even get in touch."

"Actually, Dad died because of me. That's why I couldn't go home."

Seok-kyung laughed in vain, as if it were ridiculous.

"That's funny. How did Dad die?"

He decided to confess his guilt to Seok-kyung. I didn't think I'd believe his innocence at all
unless he told me the whole truth.

"I fell off the ladder the day I went home after being discharged. I was driving it wrong
because he didn't die in one shot. You should have slept properly.”

Seok-kyung discovered Dad bleeding on the head.Dad was struggling to pick up the cell
phone that had fallen on the floor, but she quickly kicked it into the corner of the yard. She
watched her father's death with her eyes open. He was confused when he heard
Seokgyeong's story.

"Idiot, did you run away in surprise? cowardly bastard. Dad died, you were gone, and I was
the only one almost killed by Mom. If she hadn't died, I'd have died first." He was
speechless.

"I'm sorry. I'll go find you without being falsely accused. Believe me, Mom, I..."

"That's terrible. Do you think you'll be framed? Look. I don't need you."
He got goose bumps all over. He imagined how Seok-kyung's face, which he hadn't seen for
a long time, would have changed. He wished she looked like his stepmother, but he was
sure she looked just like his father. It was terrible to think that Seok-kyung was ruined like
himself. He wanted to die with his sister.

Another part of the body in a black plastic bag was found on a hill near the inn. He appeared
to have been killed just a day or two ago. The place where it was found was the back
mountain where Seok-won used to go for early morning exercises. The female owner
shuddered at the fact that it had happened very close. There was a strange shudder when
she thought he could be the main character of the news. She suddenly remembered the
black plastic bags that he sometimes hid in the back dance when he went to work out at
dawn. No matter how much she asked, she couldn't tell what it was because he didn't
answer, so she just guessed it was trash. She thought he might have been out two days
ago. Early that morning, she woke up to the sound of the door closing, tossed and turned,
and went outside, and he was not in the office. She couldn't hear the doorbell, so she
thought he went to the bathroom and went back to sleep. She didn't doubt him at all. She
had thought that he would certainly sit in the office at dawn when she slept. He was not
someone who went out during the day, so he decided not to leave even at dawn. She began
to have doubts about him. Even after switching with him at night and entering the room, she
was bothered outside. Until dawn, she was alert and listened to the sounds outside the door.
Whenever she heard the bell on the porch, she thought he was going out, so she would
open the door and look out, but he was still in the office.

The front door shook loudly, and a young woman in her early 20s came in. It was a young
lady who didn't get married at the inn. Drunken, she sat down before she even made it to the
front door. No matter how much he shook the woman, there was no response. He helped the
woman into an empty room. He tripped over the woman while putting her on the bed and fell
over her. Feeling the heavy power of pressing herself, the woman who was asleep began to
scream. He shut her mouth in fear of hearing someone scream. Then the woman screamed
louder and struggled. The female owner, who had fallen asleep, was surprised by the sound
and ran out. She found a woman lying in a bed in a corner and him covering her mouth with
one hand, tucked over her.

"Please be quiet. Please, please, please…"

He was screaming louder than the woman's scream. The female owner was so surprised
that she was confused about what to do and managed to separate him from the woman. He
broke away from the woman and sank to the floor. The woman, who was drunk and unable
to stay properly, screamed while lying down. He shouted frantically at the female owner and
the guest.

"I fell down by mistake. It's a real mistake, a mistake. Don't scream, calm down."

He tried to calm her down, but she rarely stopped screaming. The female owner helped the
woman out. He remained in the room for a moment, sitting dazedly, thinking about what his
mistake was. And it was dizzying to think of the complicated things that would happen if a
customer reported. He was about to rush outside when the female owner, who had gone
outside, came in alone. When she opened the front door, the woman who couldn't keep her
body properly was already gone.

"What were you going to do if I reported you? Then can you follow me?" said the woman. He
felt her voice get cold. When he opened the front door and tried to leave, she entered the
office, reached under the desk, and felt for the emergency bell. He didn't go outside and
quickly followed her into the office. He twisted her arm and knocked her down to the floor
before her fingers touched the emergency bell. Lying flat on the floor, she struggled to get up
but could not overcome his strength. He laid her straight down and pressed her with both
legs to keep her from moving. She started to struggle against his crotch. He kissed her on
the forehead with her arms open and pressed. She seemed to have lost all her strength in
an instant. He took his lips to her. When his lips touched, she shook and greedily sucked at
his lips and tongue. He suddenly became displeased with the situation and hit himself with
her.

"Isn't this just what you wanted, Ajumma?" The female owner closed her eyes and thought
about what she wanted, but could not tell. He put his hands around her neck and then she
spat a thick spit from her mouth into his face. He laughed when his eyes met with her, who
opened his eyes in surprise at the damp and cold touch that touched his neck. She smiled
with relief at the laugh. But he didn't take his hand off the woman's neck. He pressed his
uvula with his thumb and squeezed his neck with force with the rest of his fingers. He
thought he should stop now, but he put more and more strength in his hands.

"Hey, you, gae, sae, sa, rye…"

She uttered a disjointed sound, scratching her hand around her own neck mercilessly. He
didn't take his hand off her neck. Her arms and legs floundered several times in the air and
soon fell to the floor. She died with bulging eyes and a wide mouth. His hands were
drenched in unknown saliva and sweat. He smelt the smell of his palm. The sour smell made
him sick. He kept rubbing his palm against the pants. He was awakened by a sickening
smell from the floor of the room where she lay. He ran out of the room, locked the door of the
inn, and sat dazed on the counter. Everything was like a dream. However, his feeling of
struggling under the palm and crotch remained vivid. "I didn't mean to kill him, I was just
trying to scare him, but I made a big mistake." Seok-won tried to remember how many
mistakes he had made, but he couldn't tell what was a mistake and what was intentional.
What is correct is that being born is a mistake. His father used to say that he was a blot on
his life, a blot on the wrong side of a condom. He realized that his father's words that he
would accidentally cause a big accident and stay in a cell for the rest of his life were not just
curses or bad words, but prophecies. It was only then that he knew that the mistake was this
great, not that he had hurt his father. He didn't want to live in a cell for the rest of his life, as
his father had predicted.

He vowed not to make any more mistakes. The woman's body was taken to the bathroom.
He thought his crime would not be easily revealed if he only hid the body well. Few people
have been intimate with her, so no one will notice her disappearance for the time being. He
planned how to break down the body by referring to the records of crimes seen in Internet
news articles and writings on anatomical sites. He took out a kitchen knife and rubbed it on
the whetstone several times. No matter how hard he tried, it didn't get sharp enough to
satisfy him. With a blunt knife, he calmly disassembled the woman's body, as he had done
for a long time. He flushed what needed to be flushed down the sewers and toilets, and cut
the remaining flesh and stomach pieces into appropriate sized pieces and placed them in the
soil of a decaying plant pot.It took him longer than he thought to get back to the soil. She
was far too large for all of his pots.He climbed up the mountain before sunrise with some
flower pots and flower shovels in a plastic bag. He slowed down and entered the path to the
middle of the mountain, where he always buried the pots. He dug some holes deep and
carefully buried each pot. He was the most attentive potted plant ever. It took four days to
bury her all. He was careful not to make the mistake of digging too shallow or burying it with
a plastic bag to make it stand out quickly.

Over the years, the potted plants buried here and there on the side of the mountain will be
revealed. A dead branch sprouts in it, and as time goes by, potted plants buried in various
places on the mountainside will be revealed. In it, dead branches may sprout, and new
leaves may sprout. Also, the legs of Lady Kim in Hongje-dong may grow, the hair of Lady
Baek in Sinchon may sprout, flowers may bloom on the finger of the woman who is the
owner of the inn, and fruits may form on the shoulders of her stepmother. But it's not what he
did, it's just a coincidence that happened around the same time. He is not so bold as to do
such a terrible thing, nor is he the main character of the news. As his life has always been
overlooked, he is convinced that this is also likely to go unnoticed. He said, "I had nothing to
fear." He finally came up with the following sentence.
Chapter 5 - Chapter 5 : Come Back

"I think there's someone in the house. Just listen. Don't you know?" My grandmother, leaning
on the sofa, told me with a hazy expression, as if she were drunk with the spring energy
coming into the living room window. "Who do you mean? I can't hear anything. I think you
heard it wrong." My grandmother shook her head at my answer. "It's wrong to ask a dumb
kid like you.”

During the winter, Grandma ate only one meal a day and rarely came out of the room, so
she became noticeably weak, but her voice is still sharp. The apricot cardigan worn by
Grandma makes her pale face look even paler and dull without sunlight. My grandmother,
who weighs less than 40 kilograms, is getting smaller and smaller and will be crispy and
crumbly when held in one hand. Grandma's face whose lower part of the white high school
girl remained, but after quitting her life's work, the beauty disappeared in an instant, like a lie.
The once-appealing, plump, cold expression engraved deep wrinkles on the brows and
corners of the mouth. The high nose, which made the intellectual impression, harmonized
with the net-like wrinkles covering the face, making Grandma look like a nasty witch. When
the phone rang, Grandma took the phone and put it down without saying anything. "I can't
believe there are so many useless advertising calls. Did you say your phone number
correctly? How can you not get a single call? I should have called, but it's my fault I trusted
you."

I recently put out a room on the second floor in a daily life magazine. Grandma had been
sitting in front of the phone since the day the room was released, but no call came to see the
room, even after a week. The balance of the bank account had not much left, but it was not
so precarious due to the decrease in spending. She didn't really need money, but she
seemed to feel a crisis that she might starve to death if she didn't leave the room. "I've never
lived so poor." Grandma told me. "It's still worth living, so feel free. We are not poor."

My grandmother was once a pretty famous oriental embroiderer. Grandma lost her sick
husband early and made a living from oriental embroidery, which she learned at a girls'
school, to feed her two young children. Embroidery was placed in the folding screen or
hanbok, and at first, three families lived, but the embroidery placed in the hanbok of the
mother of a college classmate, who was the wife of a lawmaker at the time, led to talk of
wealthy wives. Since then, many of the grandmother's works began to be sold, and with the
income, she even sent her children to study abroad. When I was an elementary school
student, Grandma was belatedly known as an orientalist with 30 years of experience, and
she sometimes appeared in women's magazines and appeared on morning TV programs.
Grandma is known as a great mother, housekeeper, and professionally successful woman
who overcame a rough life. If it weren't for the magazine, I wouldn't know what my
grandmother was like. Thanks to her few appearances in the media, her work, which
became more famous, began to sell at a slightly more expensive price. However, when
Grandma quit her job about 10 years ago, the household became noticeably poor. I, and the
people around me, were embarrassed because I had never thought that my grandmother,
who was greedy for work, would quit her job. Customers who were infested in the house
stopped their feet, and disciples who were learning oriental embroidery did not come. Five
years later, Mrs. Kang, who had lived with me since middle school and took care of my
housework, also left. We couldn't afford to pay any more.
There was no one left by our side. All that was left was a degraded Japanese-style wooden
two-story house. The house was too large for two people. There are two rooms, a living
room, and a kitchen on the first floor, and two rooms with toilets on the second floor. After
Mrs. Kang left, I asked Grandma to sell her house and move to a small house. Then,
managing the house would be less difficult and less expensive, and I could live well.
Grandma jumped up and down with a straight face. "You can't sell the house even if I die."
Grandma begged me to nail her ears. Five years ago, even when builders offered to buy a
house at a high price for reconstruction, Grandma flatly refused. The businessman's plan to
buy all the houses in this alley and merge them with other sites to build a large building was
cancelled because of one old lady. Like other alley people, neighbors in the same alley who
tried to leave the house at a high price visited Grandma and persuaded her and threatened
her, but Grandma did not blink. All of the other areas around it eventually became tall
buildings, but only this alley remains as it was a long time ago.

My grandmother's pride and obsession with this house was great. Even in the interview, the
story of the house was not left out. "This is the house that my maternal grandmother's father,
my maternal great-grandfather, bought." He was a banker who bought a small garden house
in a luxury residential area where the Japanese usually live for his wife and soon-to-be-born
child. Grandma, the only daughter, was born in this house and grew up wealthy from
kindergarten to girls' school, but her parents were killed during the war. The only thing left for
the grandmother was this house, which was not broken even in the saturation of the war.
The cracked outer wall was filled with cement, and there was no new roof. When the tatami
was converted into ondol and glass was inserted into an empty window frame, there were no
traces of war. Grandma married while still in college, had children and raised them in this
house, and has never left. She said that there should be a place for the family who left for a
faraway place to return, and that she was guarding it. However, the children who actually left
never returned. A significant portion of the money she made went into renovating her house
and gardening. If one place was fixed, there was a problem with the other, and in the end, it
cost as much money as the new building, and everything except the exterior was renovated,
but on the outside, it was preserved as it was. However, when Grandma quit her job and
couldn't fix the house anymore, the house quickly wore out as if time only passed by this
alley. The most beautiful house in the neighborhood was becoming a beast, lying flat in the
shadow of a newly built building.

Even though it was obvious that no one would come into this house and that she might not
want to stay for a while, Grandma insisted on offering her room. I didn't know what I was
going to do with the little rent, but I couldn't stop my grandmother. Grandma, who was
waiting for the call, sat down and began to doze off. "Don't doze off here, go to your room
and sleep." At my words, Grandma did not sleep. She said, "I've never taken a nap in my
life. Don't sit around being lazy like you and water the garden. The flowers are going to
wither again. My legs are like this, so I can't go out, but you have to take good care of them."
"All right, you're doing fine." I gave a straight answer.

Spring came, but the garden was still as desolate as winter. The garden, which was full of
plants except for the way from the gate to the front door, was now covered with soil, dried
plants, weeds, and fine flowers that sprang up in their own way. I haven't actually watered or
cleaned my garden in years. When Grandma told me to, I just came out and went into
Seongdae for a while. When she was healthy, no matter how busy she was, she used to
spend a long time gardening every day, but now she can't come out to the garden anymore.
Grandma blames it on the arthritis that she got before she was 50 years old and says she
can't move, but in fact, she can't see her eyes. When she left the house, she steamed her
ears, saying that she couldn't see it well because of the glaucoma in her eyes. That's why
Grandma suddenly quit her job. It was understandable because she spent her whole life
sitting in the studio for more than 10 hours a day looking at her fingertips. At first, I seemed
to distinguish between shading and contour, but now I didn't know if I approached carefully
without making a sound. Grandma's behavior was noticeably slow, and she hid the fact that
she couldn't see even though she couldn't leave the house. My grandmother was a person
who didn't want to show her weaknesses to others, so she didn't bother to hide it from her. I
sat still on the bench in the yard, full of time and the declining landscape I created. Houses
and gardens that used to sparkle in the sun all day were covered in the shadows of
skyscrapers. Now, no matter how hard you work, you won't be able to have a beautiful
garden like before.

There is a woman standing by the window of my room on the second floor. I was surprised
for a moment because I was not used to having someone at home. She is looking at the
garden, sweeping her bulging belly. A few days ago, she was sitting on her back in cold
sweat at the gate of cold sweat. It was spring, but I couldn't let her shiver in a thin dress and
a denim jacket even though it was still windy. I brought her into the house. Grandma sat in
the living room, but she didn't notice that I was taking her up. She looked very young, but
she was pregnant, and her belly was bulging enough to lift the front of the dress. When I laid
her on my bed, she breathed heavily and fell into a deep sleep. She kept shaking, even
though she took out a thick blanket and covered herself with it. I regretted letting a stranger
into the house just in case she went wrong. I asked her for her family's contact information
and asked her to go to the hospital, but she shook her head and couldn't come to her
senses. I boiled and fed her porridge until she came to her senses and took her wet wipes
away. She was barely able to get up after two days. When I asked her to call home, she said
it was okay. Even though she had recovered to some extent, she did not want to leave, and I
could not tell her to leave. I was annoyed with her a bit , but I let her get away with it.

She staggered as if she was about to fall, and stood holding onto the window frame. I got
worried about her and went up to the second floor, where she was lying on the bed. When I
asked her if she was dizzy, she said she was fine, and she tried to say something and then
shut her mouth. She opened her mouth a little later without my asking again. "There was a
yard like this in my house. Different colors of flowers bloomed in different seasons, and fruits
such as quince, jujube, and persimmons were hung on the trees. My dad quit his job and just
worked on the yard. My dad used to be a newspaper reporter, but he must have gone to
war. I don't know, but I think it made me a little crazy. My father committed suicide by
burying his head in a flower bed while living as an incompetent. It was when I was very
young. I feel so dizzy when I think about it." I couldn't figure out why she was saying this. I
looked at her without answering. "No, just, I like this house for some reason. I guess that's
why I thought of my dad." The word "dad" was unfamiliar, like a word that didn't exist in the
world. I've never called my parents by their names and have no memories of them. My
grandmother, from my mother's side, was everything in my family. It is said that I came to
this house around the age of four, and I have few previous memories and only a few
fragmented images remain. I feel like I've travelled a lot by car, but I can't even remember
my mother's face. I was strangely out of breath when I tried to recall my mother's face. I
wanted to know about my mom and see a picture, but I couldn't ask any questions because I
thought Grandma would hate it. Fortunately, I was able to gather information about my
mother from an interview with Grandma in a magazine. My mother was an elite who studied
in America and settled there. She said that my mom entrusted her with money to help me
learn Korean properly and to think in her Korean. My mother never contacted me even
though I was fully fluent in Korean when I grew up. I asked Grandma when I was in middle
school. "Why doesn't she take me with her?" My grandmother replied that my mother
remarried a long time ago and started a new life, so I should give up my lingering feelings.
Strangely, I was relieved like a man released from a trap at the word, and the lingering
feelings and resentment I had seemed to disappear in an instant. The word "mom," which I
looked away because I thought my heart would burst just by reading it, has turned into a
word that does not inspire anything, such as a bottle opener, a piece of wood, and a handle.

Grandma made fun of me as if I was to blame for not getting a call to find a room. She
criticized me in a low voice. I was described as incompetent, clumsy, and immature. The
stories that had been heard for a long time and could not be refuted because they were not
too wrong, were not as powerful as in the past. A few days later, I received a call to see the
room. Grandma was overjoyed when a man said he would come in the afternoon. Sher told
me to clean the house properly. "If I had seen my eyes, I would never have made myself feel
ill." Grandma was a perfectionist and a person who could not trust others, so she was
relieved when she did everything with her own hands. I did housework for two hours a day,
even if I was busy eating because of a lot of orders. Every day, I dusted the fluorescent
lights and ceiling and wiped small pottery and ornaments with a dry mop. The walls of the
wooden living room and old furniture were waxed and polished, and the flower trees in the
garden were trimmed. The house was always clean without any dust. Mrs. Kang, who does
housework, used to say that she felt like she was being reprimanded for incompetence. But
now, Grandmar has no choice but to borrow my hand and do what she wants. Maybe
Grandma doesn't like it very much. She used to tell me, as an elementary school student,
that I was a sloppy and inadequate child. Sometimes she told me the story of my uncle, who
was good at studying and broke everything, and blamed my ugly face for not resembling my
pretty mother. "What a pity you didn't inherit the good genes of your mother's family. I don't
know who your father is, but he must be a pathetic fellow." Grandma told me to abandon the
idea of being able to do something. Her words pricked my chest like a needle. I tried to do
anything well to be loved by Grandma, but she still didn't like me. I followed Grandma's
words unconditionally because I was worried that I would annoy her and be sent to another
place. However, now I have no choice but to trust and rely on my grandmother, who is my
only family. Grandma was still as harsh as before, whether she was not aware of this reality
or not willing to admit it. I feel sorry for her, so I only respond gently, but she no longer
moves as she wants. For several years, I only roughly cleaned Grandma's room and went
back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. Even though dust and hair clumped
together for a long time and were rolling on the floor, Grandma didn't know at all. I did not
even clean up the room on the second floor, which Grandma repeatedly asked me to clean
up.

The man came around 3 p.m. Grandma got her hair trimmed, took out a wine-colored home
dress, and came out. The white hair tied up was sticking out from place to place, and the old
home dress was so big that it seemed to be covered with a bag. The man, who appeared to
be in his early thirties, entered the front door and looked around the house. Grandma
greeted customers with elegant gestures and a well-decorated voice, as she used to greet
them when she was working. I was as uncomfortable as sitting in the front seat of an
awkward play, so I led the man to the second floor. My grandmother put her hand on my
back and limped up the stairs. The woman also came out of my room and followed us, but
Grandma didn't seem to notice. I opened the door to the empty room used by the lady. I
used to come into an empty room for a while after the lady left, but that was a long time ago,
so the room was completely neglected. The room was soggy and even smelled stale
because the shadow of the newly built building covered the house and the dry sun did not
come out of the window. There were spider webs in every corner of the ceiling, and the
wallpaper was stained with mold. Although there was furniture and small refrigerators that
could be used in a large room about the size of a studio, dust piled up on them more than 20
years ago, making it hard to open my eyes. I felt sorry for the man who looked around the
room with a buggy look on his face. Grandma spoke kindly to the man. "It's my son's room in
the U.S., and even if it's empty, I swept and wiped it all day. You can see a nice garden
outside the window, and it's sunny. This used to be the best house in town. It's not easy to
find a nice house at this price." The man looked at me as if it were ridiculous. "I'll think about
it and call you." The man said this without even thinking about looking into the bathroom.
"Alas, you don't need a thought. Anyway, make sure to contact me. You can eat it if you
want. " My grandmother's face was alive for the first time in a long time. After the man went
back, Grandma expressed her unfathomable affection for him, who she had never seen. "I
think he's a nice guy, so it'd be great if he came in. By the way, wait a minute. Don't you hear
anything? I think there's something at home. Go through the house." I said I would.

The woman lay asleep on the bed. I couldn't figure out what my grandmother heard. The
woman felt my presence and she fell asleep. "I saw earlier that he came to see the room.
Could you lend me that room for a while? " The woman gave me a gold ring. "It'll be about a
month's worth of room, right? I'll give it to you when I have money, so please accept it first. "
It would be better for a woman to come in than a strange man, but I hesitated a little because
she was pregnant. When I hesitated without answering, she put the ring on my hand. "I'm
going out before I give birth, so don't feel too pressured. Actually, I visited the house where I
lived with my mom because the due date was approaching, but I couldn't find it because the
neighbourhood was completely different. It's only been three or four years since I left home,
and I didn't know it would change like this. "Please let me stay until I find a house." She
spoke earnestly as if she had nowhere else to go. I didn't want to get involved because it
seemed like a person with a story. This place was almost redeveloped three years ago. The
only house left is our house, and it's all built. "I think your mother's house was demolished
and she moved out. You don't have a phone number? Or if you have an address, you'll find it
quickly. 100000 won't be here, but you'll have to find your mom quickly." "I've tried calling,
but they don't have a number." When I asked for the address of the old house, she said she
had been in a fire in the early stages of her pregnancy and she couldn't remember the little
things, whether it was because of the harmful gas she drank or because of her pregnancy. I
couldn't bear to refuse her request, which was depressing. "Yes, you can stay here until you
find your mom. But there's an old lady on the first floor. Please be careful not to let my
grandmother notice. She can't see with her eyes, so I just need to be careful. She nags a lot
because I'm lazy." I was going to hide her presence from my grandmother. It was also
because of the double ring I received from her, but it was better to hide anything if possible
in front of my grandmother. Her name is Yoon-ok, and she is only 20 years old. She has
about two months left to give birth. I wanted her to pay her mother a visit before she gave
birth. We worked together to clean the next room. I walked through the web and dusted the
furniture and window frames. It's similar to where I lived when I was young. It's older than
this house. She chattered in a good mood. That's probably because there were many similar
houses in this town. I brought a clean bed sheet and a blanket. "It's so great. Thank you,
Unnie." She rubbed herself against the cozy new quilt and loved it like a child. I liked the title,
so I repeated it many times in my mind, Unnie, Unnie.

I called the Life magazine company and cancelled the advertisement. The man who went to
see the house did not contact me again. Grandma was sickened by such a trifle. "These
days, they only like apartments, because they don't know any good old houses. It's so
cheap. I really don't understand." It's not that she doesn't understand, but her pride is hurt.
No matter how long she waited, no phone call came, and she seemed to resign that she
wouldn't leave the house. "There is no way now. Don't you think you should make some
money?" Grandma said that it was my fault for not being able to serve as a human being.
She couldn't stand her anger and kept swearing at me. "Is this the only reward for raising
you without your mom's help, You should have died early when you were thrown on the
roadside, or that you should have died in the belly in the first place..." I did not listen to
Grandma. Her harsh words no longer hurt my heart. It was because I gave up the idea of
being loved and recognized by my grandmother. After Grandma's voice stopped, all she had
to say was a word. "I'm sorry." As Grandma said, I was so incompetent that I couldn't make
money after eating thirty-five. But that's not entirely my fault. Grandma may have known this,
but she may have forgotten it.

It wasn't the first time Grandma did that. She did something similar when I tried to go to a
university in another city on the condition of receiving a full scholarship or when I went
abroad as an exchange student. Even then, I gave up everything and sat at home as my
grandmother wanted. Grandma seemed satisfied with me staying at home without working.
"One must live according to one's abilities, or one will be angry. If you try to turn around and
leave, you'll end up in a terrible situation. " Grandma always reminded me that I am a human
being with only one room in my capacity. Her grandmother's beloved children were free to
go anywhere, and it didn't make sense why she wouldn't let me go, as she didn't really care
if they didn't come back. Grandma, saying, "I think I have to take care of my granddaughter,
who has yet to get a job and still lives in her shadow, for the rest of my life." If I had made a
strong decision, I would have been independent of my grandmother a long time ago. No, I
wouldn't have tried to be loved by my grandmother before that. It's all happened in my 20s,
so it's no use regretting it.

Yoon-ok was sitting in the kitchen and eating with her head down. She was crying with her
mouth full of rice, swallowing the sound. I didn't know why she was crying, but I thought it
could be because she was 20 years old, so I watched without saying anything. She went
upstairs and wept. Her cry grew louder as I hugged her gently. I buried her face on my
shoulder in case Grandma heard her crying. Her big, hard belly touched my stomach.
Whether it was because of her crying or because of her baby movements, my body shook as
well. She stopped crying after a while. "Are you having a hard time? Why did you cry?" She
answered after a pause. "It brought tears to my eyes when I heard Unnie's grandmother talk
to Unnie like that." I was in a bad mood. Maybe it was because she was young, but she
didn't seem to have any manners about other people's private lives. "It's not a big deal, you
don't have to cry." "I cry easily after I get pregnant. I'm sorry." I said she didn't need to be
sorry. "My mom said everything to me, too. I wanted to die every day." She paused to read
my countenance. "Just keep talking. I'm listening." I was going to listen to a story lightly, as if
I were reading a magazine. This was unusual in a boring routine where nothing happened.

"I had an older brother. My brother studied very well as a model student because he was
different from me. My mother is a very strict person, but she was very proud of my brother,
who looked like her. I liked him, too. Thanks to my brother, my mom didn't care much about
me. My brother went to study in the U.S. with state funds, but he became a tutor in the
dormitory. My mom is a bit more relaxed because my family is like that. She put all her
expectations on me and wanted me to be like her brother. But I was different from my mom
and my brother. It was because I'm my father's daughter." I was strangely envious that she
had such a family. People who are not now but who once existed by her side. When I was
talking about the tragedy in my family, I thought that I was very childish to think this way.

"My mom said my dad died because he was weak, and I should never look like him, but I
look like him to the point of weakness. Losing a family, it was a terrible thing. How can I live
like nothing happened when all the people who ate and laughed with me are gone every
day? But my mom didn't acknowledge that. Pretend like nothing happened to us, just the two
of us in the first place. My mom tried to force me to go to the cram school to the tutor's
house, but I didn't listen to her. I don't know why I'm alive, and I don't know how my dad
chose death, but I have to memorize English words and solve math problems. My mother
used a lot of curse words. You should have died, but why are we alive? I was curious, too. I
was going crazy looking for the answer. I thought I would die if I lived like that, so I left home
when I was a freshman. I only did what I wanted, went where I wanted, and met the people I
wanted to meet. I don't regret leaving home. By the way, what did I like about visiting my
mom? It's not unfortunate, but why do you want to go back when you can just live as you
live? Oh, I really don't know. I think I'm crazy." I wiped away the tears in her eyes with my
hands. "Don't cry, it's all in the past." At the age of twenty, she was shining. I felt like I met
another me who had left for a long time and returned to this place for a while. I wanted to go
back to my twenties and be with her. Then it seemed that the future would not be as it is
now. I stroked her hair, which was neither me nor anyone else's. I thought of my hair that no
one had ever stroked. I patted it like that for a very long time.

Yoon-ok stayed at home for a while. We stood by the window in the morning as the sun was
passing through the buildings for a while, taking in the spring sunlight, and in the daytime we
went for a walk to a nearby park. As time went on, her stomach swelled little by little. She
wobbled her back without her hands on her waist, and I gently supported her by her side.
People walking by the road kept looking at us to see if it was funny because she was full and
her gait was ridiculous, so as not to bump into each other. I introduced her to the local
supermarket owner by telling her she was my sister. The owner smiled awkwardly and
nodded his head in disbelief. Whether you know what I'm saying is a lie or not, I'm glad she's
got a little brother. We ate her chosen menu for lunch and took a nap. In the evening, we
watched TV together and chatted. I massaged her swollen calves and her feet. She laid me
down on her and massaged my face. "Unnie's face resembles mine." My face looked much
older than that of a 20-year-old, but our long, slender eyes and short chin looked a lot alike."
As the evening came, her baby's fetal movement grew, and she took my hand on a ball-tight
belly. I could feel her baby's movement as well as the warmth of her palm. When our voices
got louder, strangely, the baby moved loudly, as if he was going to play a part too. We sang
songs to the baby in the womb and told stories from the past. She still has to wait more than
a month for the baby to come out, but I wanted to see the baby. "The baby will look a lot like
you, right?" I looked at her face and imagined the baby's face. "Then it'll look like you too,
Unnie," Yoon-ok replied. "Can I see the baby?" It broke my heart to think that I might not be
able to see the baby. "Why are you saying that?" She had a dark look on her face. As I fell in
love with her and the baby, I was afraid I'd break up with them and never see them again.

All the people I loved left and never came back. Yang, who was my nanny, and Kang, who
lived with me for a long time. These were people I loved like blood, but now I don't even
know where they live. Yang Unnie has taken care of me since I first came to this house. I fell
asleep in my sister's arms and went to kindergarten holding her hand. My sister cooked me
delicious food, read a book together, and went on a picnic in elementary school. I do my
makeup and wear pretty clothes, I wanted to be hugged by my grandmother and I wanted to
go on a picnic together. Grandma did not come out of the studio. Even if my grandmother
didn't love me, I thought it would be okay if I had an older sister. I thought my sister would
live with me forever. One day, I gave up on the clothes that Grandma had picked out and
went to school in the clothes that my sister had picked out. My grandmother fired my sister
overnight, saying that I was learning to have shallow, cheap tastes. I begged that I didn't
want to break up with my sister, but my grandmother's decision didn't change. My sister
cried and hugged me after her. "Don't cry and stay strong. Actually, Grandma loves you.
You're a smart kid, so you can do anything well. I'll definitely come over when I get a seat." I
couldn't see her again. On the day of separation, I would sometimes think of the smell of my
breath leaking white from my sister's mouth and it would soothe my desire to see it. After
that, a few nannies came, and when I started to attach myself to them and follow them, my
grandmother quickly brought me in. It was painful every time I broke up, but I was forced to
attach myself to a new person. I couldn't live without it.

The only person Grandma didn't take away from me was Mrs. Kang. She came home when I
entered middle school. She had an indifferent personality, and I was careless with my
grandmother in front of her, so she thought we were not that close. But I used to watch
television with her in her room until late at night, and on my way home, I met her, went
grocery shopping, had a snack, and chatted. She didn't take my side in front of my
grandmother, but she pitied me for not being loved by her no matter how hard I tried. She
wanted me to be independent and live happily ever after. When she quit her job and didn't
do anything because of Grandma, she shed tears and was heartbroken. She told me to
never give up seeking independence. She really hated Grandma because of me, and she
was thankful for that. When the woman left the house, I felt pain as if a part of my body was
falling off. I didn't catch a lady and didn't cry because I didn't like my clumsy heart that easily
gets sad whenever someone I loved leaves. She told me she would visit me occasionally,
but I answered sourly, "Do as you please." Maybe it was a shame, but the lady didn't contact
me again after she left.

I wanted to be a solid person and not be easily hurt by anyone. I lived with Grandma and
maintained a cold heart, and besides, I didn't meet anyone and didn't really want to meet
anyone, so I mistook myself for being that kind of person. However, my weak heart
remained, and I attached myself to Yoon-ok and the baby too easily. However, it was
impossible to pick up and capture the heart that had already passed away. I didn't want to
lose them.

For the first time, Yoon-ok went around without making a sound of footsteps, but now,
without paying attention, he wobbled up and down the stairs, and even laughed out loud on
the first floor. If I said there was no one, Grandma had no choice but to believe me, so I
didn't care what sound was leaking. Grandma kept lying in the room and did not come out,
saying she was not feeling well. Arthritis has also worsened, making it difficult to walk. She
barely crawls to the bathroom. Sometimes, Yoon-ok brought rice to her grandmother and
cleaned her room. Grandma didn't know who was in her room and didn't suspect that it was
anyone other than me. Grandma muttered that something must have entered the house
without knowing that the person in front of her was Yoon-ok. "There's no one, there's
nothing. Halmeoni kept saying that, so I searched. Why are you saying weird things when it's
just me and Halmeoni at home? Are you seeing something? It's because Halmeoni is old, so
don't worry about it." I reassured my grandmother. "Yeah, I guess I saw something for
nothing. I'm done now, too." Grandma didn't intend to tell me until the end that she couldn't
see. All Grandma knew was not the truth, only the things I was saying. She didn't think I was
doing anything wrong. Because her grandmother has already got what she wants from me,
but she hasn't paid for it yet.

As a child, I couldn't understand why Grandma was being harsh on me, but it wasn't until I
was thirty that I could vaguely guess. Grandma wanted me to be broken and frustrated and
to rely only on her. That way, I will have no choice but to stick next to her, and that way,
Grandma will not be lonely. So I was like insurance for my grandmother's loneliness. It was
not because Grandma loved me, but because my uncle or mother was too far away for her
to use, and I would have been qualified to be incompetent. I had no choice but to suffer
because I tried not to be lonely on the subject of insurance. I completely abandoned the idea
of leaving when I was over 30. Come to think of it, I had never had any dreams or hopes
other than leaving home. I was willing to be my grandmother's insurance. I thought I could
think of it as a reward for raising me. I was no longer afraid of Grandma, who had lost her
sight. Time would knock down my grandmother before me anyway, and I was going to watch
the process silently from the side. It's been a long time since I've been old and there's
nothing I wanted to do or had to do, so it was okay no matter how long it took.

Grandma gradually lost her energy just by lying down. Her arms and legs became noticeably
thinner. I put a fraud summary in Grandma's room. "I think it's time for me to go see your
deceased grandfather." My grandmother asked me to find and bring all the remaining pieces
to her studio. I opened the sliding door of the studio that had been closed for a long time. It
was the first time in my life that I went into the studio. Despite the prosperous business and
people coming and going, Grandma did not open a store outside and worked in a studio on
the first floor. Grandma sat alone with the door of the narrow studio closed all day and
embroidered it. It was not easy to face her even if I was in the same house because I only
came out of the studio for a short time when I had guests. On the decorations and shelves
on three sides of the studio, colourful silk was folded and stacked one by one, and the
embroidery rooms were neatly arranged in the drawers. It was a well-organized room that
you could work in right away if you removed a layer of dust that covered the room. I found
the remaining work in the cabinet. They were household items with four eight-panel folding
screens and a small number. When I brought them, Grandma seemed to savour the
embroidery with her fingers. I didn't even know what my grandmother was going to do with
them, but it was a behaviour I'd never seen before, so I was caught in a great sense of sin.

My grandmother gave me the contact information of the old customers. I gave her a phone
book and asked her to give me the phone number one by one. I called each of the regular's
phone numbers marked with a circle. Grandma spoke on the phone in a weak voice. It didn't
take long to talk on the phone. Grandma was surprised several times on the phone, and her
eyes were red. Why are there so many dead and sick people? There are a lot of people who
don't receive it, and it's been a long time. Grandma closed her eyes and stayed still. "Why do
you want to sell all of this?" When I asked, my grandmother murmured in an audible voice. I
was irritated, but I kept my voice down and said Grandma, "Don't worry. When Halmeoni
dies, I'll sell this house and live well." Even though I knew Grandma would be red, I said so
on purpose. "You should never do that. If I die, I have to bury it under the quince tree. That's
where your grandfather is." I didn't answer and called another customer's phone number. It
took several more people to call and sell only one eight-figure screen at a reasonable price.

I found Grandma in the yard the next morning. She was dead with her eyes closed under the
quince tree in the garden she loved and a smile around her mouth. She put hot makeup on
her hair, which she combed finely without a single strand of hair, and put on an old silk dress
that she had not worn because it was a waste of time to walk. She looked very neat, as if
before she lost her sight. I've never seen Grandma's face look so peaceful. Grandma's death
turned out to be a natural death, but something was unclear. I wondered how Grandma
walked out to the garden. It was impossible without someone taking her outside. Yoon-ok
woke up at dawn due to a backache and looked out the window; she said that a man
seemed to have entered the gate. "But why did you just stay still?" When I asked her in
detail what kind of person he was, she answered in a non-confident manner. "No, maybe
not. Seeing that I don't remember his appearance, I feel like I'm dreaming. I'm sorry." I don't
know. I just thought she had a dream and proceeded with the funeral. Yoon-ok protected the
hospital mortuary with me. I searched for my uncle and mother's contact information but I
couldn't find it anywhere. There were no mourners except the neighbours in the alley and
some of the old customers of the grandmother, who had become hostile because of the
reconstruction. The order of 30 servings of Yukgaejang was almost discarded. As soon as
the death certificate came out, I took Grandma to the crematorium. And as Grandma said, I
buried the remains under the quince tree.

Grandma's death did not change my life much, nor did my loneliness deepen. I didn't realise
that I was alone because I couldn't completely give up my useless hope that my mother
might find me. However, things might have been different without Yoon-ok. I wanted to be a
family that never parted from her. I thought she would take my offer, of course, because she
said she wouldn't live with her mother even if she found her mother and she said she had
nowhere else to go. I was going to buy baby supplies for her and the baby and decorate the
room. It was also a gift for me. When she gave birth to a baby, I wanted to warm the floor
and spread the blanket in the warmest place. The mere thought of raising the baby with her
and taking pictures of the baby holding its neck, turning it upside down, and standing up and
walking was heartwarming.

On the Internet auction site, I listed my grandmother's remaining works, household items,
silk and embroidery. The goods sold surprisingly well. The Courier frequented the house.
Yoon-Ok didn't come out when the courier came, perhaps because she didn't like the
stranger' visit. One day, she said. "I don't think I should be here any longer. Actually, there's
someone who's been following me for a long time. Unnie saw it, too. The one with the hat is
snooping in this house. " It was as if we were discussing a courier. "It was the courier I
called, but why is he?" She looked at me suspiciously. "Did Unnie call him?" I nodded. She
rushed upstairs, and I followed her up, anxious that she might trip down the stairs. "What's
wrong? What's going on?" I was frustrated that I couldn't figure out what was wrong with her.
"Unnie, why did you call him? Did you know him? Why did you do that? Why? "She pressed
me with a face that looked like she was about to cry. "I called because I had something to
send. Tell me what I did wrong." She yelled at me. "I'm sure you all know. Did you get paid
by him?" I was dumbfounded. She packed her bags like a madman. "How could you let that
man into the house?" I tried to calm her down and listen to the whole story, but she seemed
to have lost her mind. I clasped her shoulder and said. "The courier is not designated by me,
but in charge of this area. If you call the office, the local person will come. I don't even know
who it is. So calm down and talk." It took her a while to calm down. She still seemed wary of
me.

"I've never been married. I'm not going to do it again. I needed a new family, and I wanted to
have my own child. I know. It can seem irresponsible at a young age. I was confident in
raising children well and making a happy family. But no matter how much I want to make my
child happy,if there is a father to the child, I can't control his behavior. If I could control it,
Mom wouldn't have let Dad kill himself. I wanted my child to grow up without being hurt by
his parents. So I slept with so many men to have children. Then I don't even know what kind
of person the father is. 1884 Oh. He was one of the guys I met. I found out while working at
the local library restaurant, but I didn't care because it looked docile. But he was obsessed
and kept chasing me. He knew I was pregnant and kept me in his house for days, insisting
that it was his blood. No matter how far I ran, he found me. I've never lived in one place for
more than three months because I've been avoiding him since I had a baby. And then, Oh, I
forgot something. I had a daughter. Oh, how could I forget that? He set fire to our room, and
my daughter died, and I was the only one who lived. Oh, my daughter,······ " She cried as if
her daughter had died in no time and couldn't speak more. I couldn't understand what she
was saying, so I waited for the tears to die down and asked. "Is your daughter really dead?"
"No, I don't know. I don't know if it's going to happen or not. Why it's so vivid, I'm going
crazy." The more she talked, the less I knew what had happened to her. The courier has
been working in the neighborhood for a long time. I don't think it's him. She said yes, but she
didn't seem to believe me. I gently touched her stomach for fear of the baby. Her stomach
was tightly bound and she couldn't feel the fetal movement.
She locked herself in a room on the second floor and didn't come out. It seemed to be
standing in front of the window and looking out often to see who was coming. She was
confused, saying, "I keep remembering things that I don't know when, and I think I'm
mistaken about a lot of things." I had more things to sell, but I didn't call the courier. I bought
clothes, blankets, and diapers for the baby with the money I've been selling. I handed it to
her and said. "Keep living here with me. You said you had nowhere to go, so let's rely on
each other. I'll help you raise your baby. I don't need the rent. I returned one of the first two
rings she gave me, and the rest got stuck in my finger. " But she gave me an answer that I
hadn't thought of. "Why do you want to keep us? What do you want? Did he make you do
it?" No matter how much I said no, she wouldn't listen. "It's because I want to be a family
with you guys. Then we won't be lonely. " She listened to me and said coldly. "I'm not lonely
with a baby, so don't worry." I couldn't figure out why she was being so cold. I felt like I had
been thrown out of the new boundary. No matter how bad I heard from my grandmother, I've
never felt this way. Tears were about to surge, so I wandered around the garden and looked
only at the sky. Her distrust and fear of standing by the window on the second floor and
continuing to watch the garden seemed to be conveyed to me. How are we so strangers, my
heart ached.

Yoon-ok disappeared overnight. She wasn't anywhere in the house. Her bag remained the
same and her front door shoes remained the same. I thought she might have visited her
mother, so I waited for her for a few days, but she didn't show up. I attempted to report her
missing because I had no idea what had happened to her; all I knew about her was her age,
name, and family history. I took out the things in my bag to identify her. There was a dress
and a jean jacket in it that I thought she wore until now. In the bag, there were toiletries, a
photo album the size of a notebook, and an old baby notebook that read, "Kim Baby," both of
which were tangled in the cover vinyl melting as if they had been smeared by fire. The photo
album contained a picture of a child who didn't even drop her belly button. After turning each
page, the baby gradually gained weight and her eyes became plump. The baby is standing
in a hooray. I knew it was the dead daughter she was talking about. I kept going through the
album. The baby wore a skirt and tied her hair in pigtails. The baby is smiling happily. Every
time I turned back, I felt like my heart was breaking. The baby in the picture was growing
with a low-cooked face. I already knew before I saw the last picture. The baby was me. It
was the same face as in the picture I took when I came to see my grandmother. I opened my
baby notebook. The medical treatment Yoon Ok received for 10 months was recorded there,
and the date of the baby's birth and vaccination details were written there. The baby's birth
date was the same as my birthday on May 3, 1975. I'm scared and sad. Whether it was my
memory or hearing from her, I remembered the memories of wandering here and there on
the bus with my mom and my mom's hand trying to get me out of the fire. I thought I should
have taken a picture if I knew I would leave so soon. Still, there was one gold ring left in my
hand that Yoon-ok gave me. I tried to remember Yoon-ok's face, but my grandmother's face
and my face kept overlapping, and even though I saw her just yesterday, I vaguely
remembered her like a very dim old woman. It was fortunate that Yoon-ok was my mother,
not the cold mother in her grandmother's words. I couldn't bear the pity of the mother who
had to leave her beloved daughter behind at a young age. I cried as if my mother had died
now.

There was no one left by my side. Now I feel like I've been thrown into the world as a
complete loner. But I'm not too afraid or anxious. I have an old house that my grandmother
left me. There is no one in the world who loves or loves me right now, but the fact that I have
somewhere to go is a great source of comfort and strength. The house was like a centripetal
point that Grandma held so that I wouldn't be separated from the world. I think I can vaguely
see how Grandma protected the house and what she endured by embroidering it until the
day she went a long way with her family who returned one night. I'll grow old in this house,
too. It'll squeak indefinitely, and one day it'll break. Then my grandmother will come back, my
mother will come back, and my uncle and grandfather, whom I have not met will come back.
Those who left will come back any time. I'll guard the house and wait for them to come back
at any time.