HMLU Ch 8
by soapaHello, Chanhee. How have you been?
When you returned to Korea, Liam cried a great deal. After parting, he repeatedly said he was worried and regretful, wondering if he had ruined your happy journey home. That is why I am sending this email. To deliver a message Liam asked me to pass on.
“Chanhee, I bless you. I pray that your life as an adult remains peaceful forever.”
He also said he was sorry for not being able to say this on the day you parted.
Liam has passed away peacefully.
Since he is now so far from both you and me, the speed at which our prayers reach him will not differ.
You may not believe it, but during the time we spent together in the hospital, you were as dear to me as Liam was.
I would be glad if there were moments when Liam and I felt like family to you as well.
May God’s grace be with you in all your steps.
From Aunt Daisy.
The email that arrived two days ago lay forlornly, like a rejected bouquet of flowers. Staring quietly at the screen, I closed the laptop. Why had I suddenly pulled the laptop out from among old belongings? After thinking for a while, I remembered. It was to prepare for going out this weekend. I needed contact data to transfer to my new phone.
The USB port in my hand suddenly felt bothersome. I stood up and went to the living room. Standing by the window, I looked out at the dawn garden, eerily covered in pitch-black green. After staring for a long time, I picked up my phone. I opened the voice chat app the other person had told me about and typed a message.
Kkamamgom: Hyung ㅠ.ㅠ I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can meet this week.
Kkamamgom: Really really x100 sorry (——)(__)
I stared at the screen for a while, but no reply came. There was no sign it had been read either. It was dawn, so that was only natural. In a way, it was a relief.
Clutching the phone tightly, I sat on the floor. The peculiar, silent air of a time when the world has not yet awakened enveloped the surroundings. Morning only comes after tearing through the darkness. Without the strength to tear it, one must sink into bottomless darkness.
Overwhelmed with regret, I clutched my head. He must be baffled that I canceled our plans so suddenly like this. Why did I excitedly suggest meeting in the first place? It was bound to end up like this anyway.
As a child, there were many things I could not comprehend. A prime example was when my grandmother suddenly bought a pink dress and forced me to wear it. I later heard that when I was hospitalized due to illness, she rushed to a fortune-teller, got a talisman, and followed their prescription. (Something about confusing evil spirits to ward off bad luck, or so they said.) My grandmother was a science graduate from a prestigious women’s university. She detested superstitions and often argued with friends or relatives of her age over them.
When my mother returned home late and saw me, she was horrified, but my grandmother pleaded that if this would keep me safe, what harm was there in believing just once? In the end, my mother could not make me take off the dress.
Thanks to that, I learned something. There are many people in this world who can only survive by feeding on others’ misfortunes. When word spread that I was sick, my parents were bombarded daily with tales of dubious health foods, suspicious medical devices, and some renowned healer supposedly living in seclusion in the mountains. They suffered from disillusionment toward people who sniffed out profit from real pain, yet they could not let go of faint hopes and wasted money several times.
I was once dragged to a remote village in Cheorwon and slapped out of nowhere by some so-called sage. (Something about expelling a spirit that was tainting my blood, or so they said.) My mother, witnessing me collapse from the blow, punched both of the sage’s cheeks, shouting that they should first expel the spirit clinging to their mouth.
I had never seen my mother raise her voice like that before or after, nor had I ever seen her cry so intensely. From that day, my parents cut off contact with those around them and focused solely on hospital treatment. But whenever my treatment went awry, my grandmother brought up the Cheorwon sage, wondering if they should have listened to him more closely.
Well, in short, everyone was more or less out of their minds.
“Son, aren’t you bored?”
My memories of the treatment period are mostly hazy. Surprisingly, pain is forgotten quite easily. Once you endure and move past it, it somehow feels like it was manageable. Having gone through several treatments, I already knew this. My parents worried about me in a different way because I did not throw tantrums when admitted to the hospital. The quieter I was, the more they watched me closely. My relatives were the same, so my hospital room was always filled with all sorts of toys, books, and animation CDs.
Among them, I happened to take an interest in the laptop my mother brought for work. I probably thought her diligently typing on the keyboard looked cool. She must have thought it was a good opportunity, as she taught me how to use the keyboard and read Korean. Thanks to her, the first “gi” I encountered was not two lines drawn with a pencil but my left index finger.
After I learned some Korean and typing, my father taught me how to search for children’s cartoons or animations on portal sites. It was around then that I came across my mother’s blog.
At the time, my mother had paused writing her third novel to focus on my treatment. Naturally, when the serialization stopped without notice, readers expressed worry and frustration. She had no choice but to announce on her blog that she was focusing on her child’s treatment due to his illness. It was precisely at that moment that I stumbled upon her blog—perhaps not the best timing educationally speaking.
[Hello? Writer Im Jungah,
I am a fan of your high school story.
I heard your child is sick.
If they’re sick, can’t they just go to the hospital?
I think abandoning your novel and readers is a bit wrong.
Do you know how many people want to be novelists but can’t?
I hope you value your talent more.]
[How long will the hiatus last?? You should at least tell us…]
[You stopped serializing but released a revised edition of Isea Chronicles ㅠ The fact that you don’t have time to serialize but have time for a revised edition… It’s hard to understand.]
[If this was the situation, you should’ve said so earlier. Staying silent for months and only posting now, what are we supposed to do? It makes those who criticized you feel embarrassed.]
I could not understand most of it, but I could sense the bad atmosphere. I also felt it was my fault. Feeling dejected and about to turn off the laptop, I noticed a slightly different comment at the tip of the mouse cursor.
[deepsea0612: OMG!!! The people who commented before are completely x100 ridiculous!! Can you say that if your own family is sick?! ㅡㅡ^ Be a human before being a reader!!]
From that comment, the mood began to shift slightly. I did not know it at the time, but my mother’s sudden halt of a new serialization and the release of a revised edition of an existing work while she was “missing” had seriously soured reader sentiment. Even after her situation was explained, it did not calm easily. In that atmosphere, that person boldly sparked a turning point.
I woke my father, who was dozing on the guardian’s bed, and asked, “How do you read this?”
He was momentarily surprised to see the page I was looking at but soon explained calmly.
“Deep Sea. A very deep ocean is called Deep Sea. Maybe they love the sea and chose this? And their birthday must be June 12.”
There is something mysterious about the power of a name. Because of it, whenever I think of that person, I feel like I am swimming in a deep blue sea. I get the illusion that I have seen the distant, deep waters of June 12.
My father looked at the screen with a worried expression, then smiled and said, “This hyung left a guestbook entry too. It’s quite long. Can Chanhee read it all?”
By then, I was quite confident in my Korean skills. I nodded enthusiastically, and he finally turned the screen toward me.
[deepsea0612
Hello, Writer Im Jungah!
I’m Shim Haemin, a 3rd grader at O Elementary School ^ㅂ^)>☆
I really really love The Saga of Isea!
Because it gave me a lot of courage.
Before reading The Saga of Isea, I was always crying.
But after finishing it, I’ve been studying hard!
I’m determined to become a great person.
But did Se-ah unnie seek revenge or forgive??
I’m curious ㅠ.,ㅠ
I was also really really x100 enjoying The Song of the Bird, so I’m sad I can’t read it anymore!!
But since your baby is sick, it must be tough.
I’ve been going to church every Sunday lately.
I didn’t want to go because I was forced to.
But this week, I’m going to save my allowance for the offering and pray hard.
To make your baby get better soon!! >_<]
My father chuckled a bit as I slowly read each letter with effort. Then he pointed to the three characters “Shim Haemin.”
“His name has ‘Haemin’ (deep sea), so he must have chosen this ID.”
“What’s Haemin?”
“Deep sea in Chinese characters is called Haemin. This hyung must study really hard, right? Only ten years old but knows Korean, Chinese characters, and English.”
“Cool…”
“Yeah, a cool hyung.”
Some emotions carve their first moment deeply. That was my first experience of admiration. I wanted to learn and mimic everything left before me. Scanning the short text eagerly, I pointed to characters I could not decipher.
“What’s this?”
“Ah… That’s called an emoticon. These are eyes, and this is a mouth.”
“Bi-eup is a mouth? Why?”
“It’s similar to this.”
My father opened his mouth wide, raising only the corners in a comical face. It was my fifth hospitalization, and the first time I laughed loudly since crossing bulbs to the hospital threshold.
Since my mother was always busy, the blog soon quieted down. Readers who occasionally checked in gradually stopped visiting. Amid that, only the “cool 3rd-grade hyung” regularly left messages. They were mostly rambles about the day’s events, always ending with, “I hope the baby gets better soon.”
I learned I could reply to his messages when I hit 100 strokes in a typing practice program. Confidently moving both hands, I wrote my first comment.
[Im Jungah: Thank you for always leaving messages and wishing me well.]
“Huh?”
I wrote it, so why did my mom’s name appear? While I was puzzled, my mother, working on my father’s laptop, looked curious.
Taking the laptop from me, she left another comment with some explanations. I did not understand the concept of IDs back then, so it was confusing, but from that day, the “cool 3rd-grade hyung’s” letters were directed solely at me.
[deepsea0612
Baby, hi hi!
Seven years old and already typing 100 strokes, that’s amazing ^///^)ㅇ So so x100 cool!!
And saying you’re not a baby because you’re seven is wrong! Because I’m ten, so seven is a baby to me! My friend’s younger sibling is seven, and their family all call them a baby!]
[Im Jungah
Then it’s okay to call me a baby.
^///^)ㅇ What’s this?]
[deepsea0612
^ is eyes and
/// is blushing cheeks!
) is a face
ㅇ is a fist!
It’s like shaking a fist while feeling shy.
A church unnie taught me ㅇㅅㅇ]
[Im Jungah
What’s ㅇㅅㅇ?]
[deepsea0612
ㅇㅅㅇ is
Our class president’s “What are you gonna do about it~” face, they say.
Use it when you want to say “What are you gonna do about it~”! lol]
That day, I got scolded a bit for leaving food uneaten and wrote “ㅇㅅㅇ” with crayons in my sketchbook. No one noticed, but I felt refreshed.
We shared many stories. It was like a diary exchange. He would ramble about his day first, and I would share my stories in return. What grand topics could kids’ conversations have? They were mostly complaints about daily life and words of comfort. When I told him how my veins burst every time I got an injection, he’d reply, “I’ll blow on it!! —3—.”
It’s funny, but it really felt like he was blowing on my bruised arm by my side. Even though I didn’t know his face. About a month after we started talking like this, a slightly calmer post came up.
[deepsea0612
Baby, do you know how to use email?
I’ve been using Dad’s computer secretly, but I got caught…
I’ll have to use the internet at the library.
But the library computer only lets you check email.
They say I’ll go to a boarding school when I’m in middle school.
Then I won’t even be able to use email, right?
Ugh…~ Frustrating…ㅡ.ㅡ]
[Im Jungah
I’ll learn how to use email.
Did you get scolded by your dad because of me? Sorry…]
[deepsea0612
No way x100!! It’s not because of you…
It’s just… my dad kinda hates me…ㅡ.ㅡ; I’m not his real son.]
[Im Jungah
What’s a real son?]
[deepsea0612
My current dad married my mom when I was seven.
My real dad passed away in an accident when I was a tiny baby ㅠㅠ
At first, I was happy to have a dad…
But he gets mad whenever he sees me, so it’s tough and sad.
He gets angry no matter what I do, so now I don’t do anything.
He says I’m noisy when I talk, so I don’t talk.
But then he gets mad again for not greeting him.]
[Im Jungah
He’s a bad person.]
[deepsea0612
Is he?
Still…
I wish he’d love me.
But I don’t know how.]
In the world I had built over seven years, it was only natural for parents to love their children. So his wish, “I hope my dad would love me,” shimmered like incomprehensible foreign words. When I could not respond, he casually wrote the next post.
[deepsea0612
There’s a party at the academy for Christmas!
They’re giving presents too, so I’m super super x100 excited!!
What are you doing for Christmas, baby? ^ㅂ^]
[Im Jungah
I’ll be in the hospital until then.]
[deepsea0612
Can’t you have a party in the hospital? ㅠ0ㅠ]
[Im Jungah
No, we probably will.
Last year, they put up a tree and Santa came too.]
[deepsea0612
Wow, that’s awesome!!
Do they give cake too?]
[Im Jungah
No, they don’t give cake because not everyone can eat it.]
[deepsea0612
Why can’t you eat cake? ㅇ.ㅇ]
[Im Jungah
Sick kids can only eat cooked or boiled food.
If not, they get sicker.
Cake has cream, so we can’t eat it.
Some kids can eat it,
But since it makes the kids who can’t sad, they don’t give it to anyone.]
[deepsea0612
Hmm~~ Then let’s do this!!
I’ll buy the tastiest cake and eat it while thinking of you.
—3— It’s the same as blowing on it!!]
Seeing the playful emoticon made me laugh. It reminded me of the sensation of him blowing on my arm. During treatment, my appetite was so low that I never craved cake or anything else. Still, the cake he’d eat for me felt like it would be really delicious.
[Im Jungah
Then sing a song too.
Christmas is my birthday.]
Before I was hospitalized, Christmas was the most exciting day of the year for me. Waking up in the morning, I’d find five big boxes: birthday gifts and Christmas gifts from my parents, plus a gift Santa left overnight. Hugging a gaming console, toys, or picture books while blowing out candles on a cake, I was endlessly happy, as if it were a dream.
[deepsea0612
Got it!!!! I’ll sing super super loud!! —0—]
Would my parents be upset if I said his words made me feel like I was back in that Christmas?
It can’t be helped.
🕹️
My father taught me how to write emails. For about half a year, we exchanged emails, but since he could only go to the library once a week, we could not share many stories. From what I heard, his stepfather disapproved of him being at home but also got upset when he went out, finding fault either way. On weekdays, he had to stay home as quiet as a mouse, and the only day he could go to the library was Sunday.
Even so, he sent me a birthday greeting email on Christmas. That year, Christmas was on a Wednesday.
[deepsea0612grumail.com
Happy happy birthday, baby~!! ^0^]
Since we’re eating the cake together, I wanted to buy a big one.
But when I stopped by the bakery on the way, I found out that a big cake is super super x100 expensive ㅠ.ㅠ
I had no choice but to get the smallest one ㅠ.,ㅠ
When I grow up and make a lot of money, I promise I’ll buy a huge cake every Christmas!!
It’ll be really really happy if we eat it together, right? ^^
I hope that day comes soon!!]
Back then, I thought about it innocently with joy, but now I have belated worries. Would that man, his stepfather, have allowed him to break the routine he set for a supposed day off? What excuse did he make to escape that prison-like house and get to the library? Was he scolded harshly or even hit?
[chanhi0612grumail.com
Thank you for wishing me a happy birthday.
When I grow up, will I be able to eat cake freely?
Right now, there’s not much I can eat.]
[deepsea0612grumail.com
Wow!! You replied so fast >0<
I can send one more email before I go.
When you grow up, you can eat anything!
If you get better, you can eat even before you grow up!
When you’re all better, I’ll buy you a super big and delicious cake!
So even if the shots hurt, bear it and keep up with your treatment—3—!!]
But back then, I was just a naive kid who didn’t know the world. I lacked the imagination to guess his difficult situation and the consideration to keep quiet if I didn’t understand. All that mattered was the reality facing me at that moment.
[chanhi0612grumail.com
I don’t think I’ll ever get better.
I want to give up now.]
That’s why I sent such an email and forgot about it quickly. After all, I had those thoughts dozens of times a day. The reply, which came only by the weekend, was so long it couldn’t fit on one screen.
[deepsea0612grumail.com
Being sick must be really tough..ㅠ^ㅠ
I thought a lot about how I could help, but I couldn’t come up with anything..
I’m sorry I can’t email often…
Before, I could sneak out a bit when Dad was at work,
But these days;; if I get caught, I get super super x100 scolded..ㅠㅠ
Today, I came to the library with our class president,
And I asked him.. I didn’t know how to reply.
He told me a saying he learned at the academy:
“Even if hope fades, you must not lose courage.”
It’s from Chaekgeundam, he said.
The president told me to just say it like I knew it,
But my conscience got to me lol, so I’m confessing I just heard it!
(I actually don’t even know what Chaekgeundam is..ㅠㅠ)
Come to think of it, there’s a similar line in The Saga of Isea ㅇ0ㅇ!
When Se-ah unnie first awakened as a mage,
The prince was hesitating about going to war, right?
Se-ah unnie said
All the rhetoric and swordsmanship the prince boasted about were useless,
And that courage, unbroken by despair, was what truly mattered.
Then she rushed into the enemy lines and blasted a fireball.
It was.. super cool lol
I want to be like that.
Is that too much?? Hmm lol
But I think you can be like Se-ah unnie.
Because The Saga of Isea is a story for you.
Doesn’t that mean the writer thinks you’re as strong and courageous as Se-ah unnie?
Oh, I have to turn off the computer.
I’ll send the rest next week!!]
At that time, my arms’ veins had all burst, so they put a needle in the top of my foot. With my blackened, bruised arms dangling carelessly, I read the long letter over and over. Even if hope fades, you must not lose courage. My father’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw the sentence I copied in crayon on my sketchbook.
“Where did you learn such a great saying?”
When I answered it was from that cool hyung, he asked to see the email. He was probably just curious. A grade-schooler using such words must have felt novel and intriguing.
“No. It’s mine.”
Why did such a childish impulse surge up? I didn’t want to share anything I’d received. What was it about it? There was no reason not to show him. If my father had seen the email… he might have noticed that he was being abused at home.
My father might have helped him.
Is this pointless self-blame? It can’t be helped. A few months later, contact stopped completely. I sent several emails asking how he was, but never got a reply. From then on, I had to think. Why did contact stop? Was something wrong? The question that lingered in my young mind grew into various hypotheses as I aged and experienced the world, stirring my insides.
On my twelfth birthday, I reread his emails from the beginning. The part about “standing on the balcony as punishment all day” sent chills down my spine. It was January when I received that email. It was also a day when the news made a fuss about a record-breaking cold wave.
Did something really bad happen to him? What if that’s why contact stopped? The more I dwelled on it, the more every sentence I’d absorbed and glossed over felt like a desperate SOS signal.
Knowing his name, age, and elementary school, I could have tried to find out how he was doing, but overwhelming anxiety left me unable to act. While I hesitated, there were more treatments, each bringing the same failures and similar despair.
“There’s a new drug reported to be particularly effective for teenage patients.”
I heard that in the summer when I turned sixteen.
“It’s five doses per set as standard. The cost is 1.5 million dollars per set. It’s currently only available in the U.S., so you’ll need to plan for at least a year’s stay.”
I let out a hollow laugh. Had I clung to life this long just to exhaust the family fortune in the end? My parents started asking for details while I shook my head. Even when I stormed out, they didn’t care.
Both my paternal and maternal families were wealthy, so we’d never struggled financially until then. But my father, who ran a small publishing house, and my mother, a writer, couldn’t possibly cover the cost of a drug ranging from hundreds of millions to billions of won with their income alone. They’d have to borrow or sell assets. I’d seen families end up buried in debt that way.
Couldn’t we stop here?
I sat on a hospital bench for a long time. The violent sunlight pouring from the pale blue sky burned my fingertips. I wanted to stop here. The desire took concrete form, dominating my nerves. I’ve tried this much, haven’t I? I’ve done enough, haven’t I? Now…
Let’s stop now.
My resolve was firm and unyielding. No matter what my parents or anyone else said, I was certain I wouldn’t waver.
That’s why I opened the emails again. With the resolve to end my life, there was nothing I couldn’t do.
I scoured every email from the beginning, collecting every bit of information. Name, age, region, school name, the library he visited, family members, even the gender of his homeroom teacher.
Since my parents left me alone for a while, I could stay holed up in my room until satisfied. Whenever I had a chance, I clung to the laptop, searching every accessible page. Assuming the worst, I even investigated child death cases in his area.
The information I was looking for popped up from an entirely unexpected place.
17th National Essay Contest for Middle and High School Students, hosted by Daeyang Daily, Grand Prize Answer
Humanities, 12th Grade Category, Shim Haemin (Seongnam K High School, 3rd Year)
Searching the school name revealed it was a boarding private high school. It was known for high admission rates to prestigious universities and a strict academic culture. There were many posts about interview tips and grade cutoffs.
His surname and name weren’t exactly common, but I couldn’t rule out the possibility of someone else with the same name. I read his full essay on the newspaper’s website. The topic was about welfare systems for the underprivileged. The prompt and answer were a bit hard for me to grasp, but the final paragraph convinced me. It was definitely the person I knew.
…There’s a passage in Chaekgeundam: “Even if hope fades, you must not lose courage.” In other words, to have courage, you must have known hope. Those who don’t know what hope is can’t even have the chance to learn courage. Only those who know the warmth of shining hope can summon the courage to keep life going. Ultimately, the role of a social system is to enable even one more person to embrace this hope…
Only then did I realize—what he gave to the young, flawed, ignorant me.
There were ways to contact him. Staring at the screen, I fell into deep thought. I had two choices: go to the U.S. or not. If I went, I’d either return alive or end there. If I didn’t, I’d have to think about how to spend the rest of my life.
Either way, if the days left in my life were numbered, I couldn’t meet Shim Haemin. It would be like repaying kindness with enmity, cursing him for generations.
But I wanted to meet him. Even once, to say something, anything. I wanted to ask if he was really okay that Christmas. To check if I’d caused him any trouble. To know if he remembered the promise to buy a cake to eat together when I got better.
🕹️
That evening, I found a community café for his high school. He didn’t seem active, but there was a post from a friend.
Christmas party at Seongho’s room with 11th Grade Class 4’s dropout~
Haemin bought the cake lol
It’s delicious but huge—.—; There’s only three of us, why’d you buy such a big one? He said Christmas cakes have to be big.
We shared with the dorm supervisor and security guard, and there’s still this much left, so I’m posting it for you guys to eat with your eyes~ lol
I stayed holed up in my room for a few more days. I didn’t cling to the laptop anymore. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I occasionally heard the sound of waves in my ears. When the dawn light filled the room with a deep blue hue like the ocean, I decided to go to the U.S.
It was the only way to meet Shim Haemin.
🕹️
After chemotherapy with surgery, radiation, and drugs, if no remaining lesions are found in a detailed examination, treatment is complete. For the next five years, you must regularly visit the hospital for recurrence checks.
After discussion, my father stayed in Korea, and my mother and I decided to spend five years in Boston.
At seventeen, in the summer, I enrolled in a local school. It had many Hispanic and Asian students, but I didn’t adapt well. There wasn’t any specific trouble. Group life with healthy peers was just so new, everything felt chaotic and noisy.
In the fall, at seventeen, I grew much taller. My mother teased that buying clothes was pointless since they’d be too small the next day, but she laughed happily. My father, voice trembling, said my mother couldn’t sleep at night from the sound of my bones growing over the phone.
In the spring, at eighteen, I was gifted a car. I came to love driving on quiet roads while listening to the radio.
In the fall, my mother started writing a new work.
“There’s a game being developed in Korea, and they asked me to write the setting and story for two animal-based races. Also the overall game scenario.”
They’d launch the game first, then work on a novel for release as a new work. We put our heads together to pick suitable animals.
“One has to use a big sword. It’s a tank.”
“What’s a tank?”
“Like a shield. A character that protects others so they can attack freely.”
Then it should be big and strong. Tigers or lions didn’t quite feel right. While thinking, a news report showed a wild bear smashing a residential wall.
“How about a bear?”
From that day, my mother shared the stories she imagined one by one. Game development went smoothly. As a scenario consultant, she received a beta service launcher. The aging laptop wasn’t suited for running 3D graphic games. Creating a test character with the ID ‘darkbear’ was fine, but the device’s poor performance and slow internet meant I could barely see anything.
“What should we name it?”
“Just call it Black Bear. It’s just for testing.”
Typing was so slow that I didn’t notice the typo. By the time I realized, a Black Bear named ‘Kkamamgom’ stood dumbly in an empty field.
Pressing random buttons, it suddenly raised both front paws to form a heart shape. My mother and I laughed for a while until the laptop started wheezing, so we quickly turned it off.
At nineteen, in the winter, I spent my last teenage birthday. Cutting a log-shaped cake, I thought of Shim Haemin. Where and how was he spending his twenty-second Christmas?
“What do you want to do when you go back to Korea?”
My mother asked often around then. I thought about it a lot too. If there was no predetermined end ahead, if nights and days stretched on forever, how should I live? These thoughts were exciting, worrying, and frightening.
In the spring, at twenty, my mother went out without saying anything. She avoided my gaze when she returned and didn’t say where she’d been. The reason became clear the next week. Isaac, whom I saw every month at checkups, was gone.
Isaac had been to the hospice ward and back. The doctor said it wasn’t a curable disease, but three months later, he was discharged. In the local patient children’s group, Isaac’s story was constant. If Isaac recovered, there was no reason their child couldn’t.
Several families followed us to the U.S. after hearing I’d recovered with the new drug. As if my body were some kind of guarantee.
But entrusting hope also means sharing despair. Over the years of hospital visits, our family repeatedly lived or died alongside others. Those who saw hope in me were the same.
My mother didn’t apologize for hiding Isaac’s death. I didn’t press her either. We were just enduring the slow passage of time. Would it end after five years? Would everything be resolved if I completed five years? Could I really endure five years?
Back then, I had no plans or goals. Just the thought that if I completed five years and could return to Korea, I’d find Shim Haemin. For me, the future wasn’t an endless concept. It was a single day barely grasped after desperately overcoming an imminent crisis. A time that, once held, became today and then yesterday.
“Who?”
In the summer, at twenty-one, my father, visiting the U.S., tilted his head when I mentioned Shim Haemin.
“Are you talking about a hospital friend?”
“No. The hyung who left comments on Mom’s blog. We emailed too.”
“Oh? Ah… Ah!”
My father was delighted to recall the memory but also puzzled. You want to meet that kid? Why?
“Just. I’m curious how he’s doing.”
Looking back, my parents were probably worried I’d get hurt unnecessarily. A childhood email friend suddenly contacting him? They might’ve thought he’d be surprised, burdened, or not even remember.
“But Chanhee… You shouldn’t look up people’s personal info online. You could get in trouble.”
Not knowing their concern, I was startled by those words. Was everything I’d done illegal? I’d have to hide it better.
“I’m not.”
From that day, I was extra cautious with the laptop. I only searched when my parents weren’t around and meticulously cleared my history. But I couldn’t find more information with ‘Shim Haemin.’ Then his email address came to mind.
deepsea0612
Searching it, I lamented why I hadn’t tried this sooner—numerous pages appeared. He seemed to still use the ID from childhood. The biggest find was his SNS, created two years ago with few photos. But I found a picture of a huge whole cake posted last Christmas.
[crystal_vely What’s this?? A party without me?]
[deepsea0612 Nah lol It’s just for Christmas]
[crystal_vely You’re eating this alone??? Greedy]
[deepsea0612 You don’t get it. Christmas is all about huge cakes lol Memorize it lol]
Mostly static landscapes or food photos, but one recent post stood out. A flashy game ad with an Asyrus of Fortune update sharing event tag.
[kitae_thebest Haemin lol You finally posted this]
[deepsea0612 Hyung, post it too lol You gotta get the winged lion]
[pretty_yelll What’s your ID, Haemin? Let’s play together]
[deepsea0612 You play too, noona?? My ID is ‘NicknameMuhum’ lol]
[pretty_yelll lol Why’s your ID like that lol I haven’t played, but it looks fun from your post, so I’m downloading it^^ㅎㅎ]
[deepsea0612 Haha Welcome~~ I’ll help you!]
Seeing the giant Black Bear in the ad, I remembered it was the game my mother worked on. Was he playing it because he knew? Did he still like The Saga of Isea?
Searching his new game ID, a YouTube channel popped up first. It seemed to be where he uploaded gameplay videos with friends. The latest video was titled <Nickmer Hard Carry! Ulteria 10-Person Hell Difficulty First Clear>.
I played the video but couldn’t make sense of anything. Drawn by the firm, commanding voice of a man on the mic, I watched until the end, noticing characters making mistakes as they charged the enemy.
“Sorry… Why am I like this? Ugh…”
Someone apologized in a meek voice, and the man giving orders shouted.
“If you have time to apologize, deal damage!”
It wasn’t a serious tone, so soft laughter erupted from the players. Looking closely, I could tell which character was him. A small boy character moved fluidly, relentlessly attacking.
“Kitae hyung, cover me for 3 seconds. I’m casting a mage buff.”
“Amsoo-nim, focus. Don’t freeze, watch the floor.”
“For the next 15 seconds, I’m applying holy. Focus dark attacks, and ranged dealers go break the chains.”
Despite his efforts, teammates started falling one by one. The enemy’s health was nearly gone, but only three, including him, remained. A large armored human character and a robed character with a staff lowered their hands, standing still, probably thinking it was over. Then a sharp voice rang out again.
“We can do this! Hit it now!”
At the same time, the small boy character dashed across the field. He wore a conical hat and held a staff with ginkgo leaves.
“Haemin, I don’t think this is gonna work…”
“It’ll work. It’s fine!”
He stood before the enemy and began chanting a long spell. Special effects suggested it was an ultimate skill.
“Nickmer hyung, what? Why are you using the druid ult?”
“When I signal, go for the finishing blow together!”
Ignoring the murmurs, he finished the chant and raised his staff high. The enemy froze and turned toward him. The aggression meant for the tank shifted to him in an instant.
The two remaining characters charged the enemy simultaneously. The armored character swung a massive sword, and the robed character shot black flames.
“It’s done!”
With his crisp shout, the enemy swung a huge fist. The boy with the ginkgo staff was knocked out in one hit. At the same moment, the enemy, having swung its fist, collapsed to its knees with a dying scream.
“Huh?”
“Huh?”
Several voices let out dumbfounded sounds as if from one mouth.
“Did we get it?”
“Really?”
“What? How did it happen?”
The video ended there. It had garnered an impressive 50,000 views. The comments weren’t much different, and someone had pinned a detailed explanation of the situation at the top.
Nyanggoongdengi
Druid Ultimate = Pulls named aggro and becomes invincible for 3 seconds
Paladin Finishing Blow = 250% damage if the aggro target isn’t you
The Druid ultimate is usually used to tank and save the main dealer when the tank is down,
And the Paladin’s finishing blow option was considered useless since the main tank has it,
But they combined it like this and pulled it off;
The really impressive part is that they instantly calculated the named’s remaining HP and judged that the Paladin’s boosted damage finishing blow + the mage’s finishing blow could kill it. Are you even human?
Seongireum
Asyrus raid teams don’t want a Druid
They want Nickmer]
Bboncaerowassekiya
Ugh, the more videos like this go viral, the more Nickands (Nickmer-not-Druids) show up, and it’s exhausting.
Those who’ve seen Nickmer’s Druid series know, the Druid has a good story and lots of fun, detailed skills and options, but the problem is the skill combos are insanely complex and require crazy hand speed, so unless you’re highly skilled, you’re barely half a person’s worth.
Even Nickmer, as a dealer, ranks 2nd or 3rd in raids.. Nickmer himself is a raid-carrying commander, but purely in terms of damage, you could replace him with any random mage off the street and it wouldn’t matter.
So please, don’t pick Druid rashly just because of this video.. To begin with, a raid needing the Paladin’s damage boost is abnormal.
└Gamjeongdonggeunyukman: Lol agreed, honestly, this raid team is already a mess if the Druid isn’t the lowest damage dealer. The dark mage with lower damage than the Druid needs to be beaten for three days and nights.
In any case, it seemed everyone was praising the Druid in the video. From that day, I started watching every video on the channel one by one. At first, I didn’t understand what was so great, but as I got used to the screen layout, I began to grasp it.
I also visited game community forums. The posts I read by searching his nickname seemed more like academic papers than game tips. I couldn’t help but be amazed by a post that recommended optimal party compositions for each named (apparently, enemies are called “named”) and mathematically analyzed the reasons. Not because I fully understood the content. The post itself just seemed impressive.
Mahura: I don’t get it, but I’m giving it a big thumbs-up.
Thankfully or not, others seemed to feel the same as I did.
I also thought people are remarkably consistent. He really puts in effort and does his best in everything. Seeing him so immersed made me curious too. But my old laptop couldn’t run the game. I had to settle for watching his exploits from afar.
The final checkup, amusingly, didn’t make me nervous at all. I was somehow certain it was over. It was a bright spring day. While my mother stepped away to call my father with the news, I sat on a bench in front of the hospital, tilting my head back.
Liam was a friend who shared my hospital room from the start. His mother, Daisy, would give me a gentle smile and hold my hand whenever she saw me. I couldn’t understand the prayers she recited, but their warmth was always vivid.
Liam, who was discharged a month before me, was back in the hospital when I went for my first checkup. That’s how the illness that invaded our lives worked. It never told us what it was doing inside our bodies or how to reclaim a peaceful life. When there was no way to turn the body inside out, all we could do was pray that the guesses of the far wiser and smarter medical staff happened to be right.
When I told Liam I was returning to Korea, he clamped his mouth shut, turned his back, and didn’t even say goodbye. I shook my head several times at Daisy’s apologies. I wasn’t upset at all. I understood Liam’s feelings as if they were my own.
For the month it took to prepare for the return, I was completely out of it. The belongings two people accumulated over five years were absurdly numerous. We debated what to do with the car and decided to donate it to a group my mother attended. Apparently, they used it for urgent hospital visits.
“Are you okay without a car?”
“Dad said we don’t need one in Seoul anyway.”
“No need? You use it if you have it. Tell your dad to get a new one as a recovery gift. He hit it big with stocks recently and has plenty of money.”
That was reassuring to hear. My mother gave me a sly smile.
“You worried a lot about money, didn’t you?”
I didn’t know the details, but while I was in Boston, my father’s business and investments had apparently done unbelievably well. Especially the investments. I said it was fine, but my father insisted on filling the garage of our new house first.
“Now you can go anywhere you want.”
My father handed me the car keys with a grin. Anywhere I want. Looking at the unnecessarily large car, I fell into thought. Where could I go with a body no longer sick?
After treatment ended, I exercised regularly. Running on the park trail, sometimes it felt like I’d been able to run like this my whole life. The days of battling cells destroying my body felt like a past life. My parents seemed to feel the same. My mother cut ties with all patient groups, as if she’d never been involved with them. Like someone waking from a nightmare trying to forget the dream.
The memory system is truly mysterious. The process leading to pain is vividly remembered, but the pain itself is barely recalled. So, by erasing traces of the time I was submerged in pain, it’s easy to mistakenly think everything is fine.
In Korea, I had to visit various relatives’ homes for greetings. It was tedious but also felt like a trip, which was fun. My parents couldn’t help but want to show off their healthy son. After the greetings, they asked the obvious question.
“What do you want to do now?”
That’s when I realized I needed to look at myself.
Twenty-two. I’d spent half my life in hospitals and barely had any school experience. Naturally, my education level was low, and I lacked proper socialization. And yet, I’d suddenly reached an age where I had to do something. My parents, seeing me dazed, encouraged me as if they understood.
“Think about it slowly. You have plenty of time.”
The new house was a three-story home in a quiet neighborhood. The first floor was my parents’ living space, the second their workspaces, and the third was my space. As I looked around carefully, my eyes fell on the study. It had a bookshelf built into one wall and a desktop set up.
It hit me that I hadn’t checked on Shim Haemin’s updates for nearly a month. I turned on the computer and checked his YouTube channel first. Happily, there was a new video from two weeks ago titled <gaius>. It seemed to be the first of the game’s three evil gods series.
I was about to scroll down to read the comments’ explanations when my hand paused. The atmosphere felt off. The comments were dominated by harsh criticism and mockery aimed at Shim Haemin and his party members.
“What’s going on?”
Curious, I entered the community forum address. Searching for ‘Nickmer,’ Shim Haemin’s usual moniker, I roughly understood the reason.
—Saying Nickmer hyung screwed up the legend is a bit much. After the Gaius Percl video dropped, posts about what’s wrong with Druid legends flooded in, so didn’t he just post an explanation like usual? The idiots who rushed to flame him are the fools, why blame Nickmer hyung?
—Nickmer must’ve been pissed too, honestly, it feels like a signal to throw some punches.
—But the legend guild name is funny lol. Sounds like an unrivaled god-tier group, but in reality…
—Is Nickmer really leaving the guild?
—It’s true.
—What? Bring him to our guild now.
—Heard he deleted his character?
—What?
—What?
—What?
“What’s character deletion?”
I looked it up, and it seemed similar to quitting the game. My confusion turned to worry.
From what I pieced together, it seemed Shim Haemin’s exceptional skill caused trouble. If so, wouldn’t leaving the guild and joining another fix it? Why make the extreme decision to delete a painstakingly built character?
I checked his SNS, but there was no hint. After thinking, I closed the forum and searched the entire web.
Title: Is Nickmer’s character deletion for real?
Content: What kind of crap did he go through to delete his character?
—Comment List—
ㅇㅇ: Would you delete a triple 10-tier?
ㅇㅇ: He’ll probably sneak back in a month.
Title: Which guild will Nickmer join if he returns?
Content: I wish he’d join ours.. I want to be Nickmer hyung’s cute main dealer.
—Comment List—
ㅇㅇ: I met Nickmer in a public party and got a bit clingy, and someone said they’d raised Isea before and wanted to play together.
└ㅇㅇ: You jerk, trying to drag a decent person into a swamp.
└ㅇㅇ: Believe it or not, it’s true. He said he couldn’t play with Isea because they were always missing from parties and was curious.
└ㅇㅇ: Okay, I’m heading to Demon Forest;
Seeing “Demon Forest” sparked faint déjà vu. What was that again? Thinking, I installed the game and realized, oh. The character created under my mother’s ID, ‘Kkamamgom,’ was a ‘Shadow Warrior.’
The setting was… a character named ‘Otan,’ who stole a sacred item from a Druid village, buried it in Demon Forest to hide it, and got cursed… Digging through hazy memories, I recalled my mother’s story and decided to log in.
Having never played a game before, it took ages to get used to the controls. For the first few weeks, I did tutorial quests and explored every corner of the field. A few days later, I found a small hut.
Gloomy Someone: I regret it… I regret it… Why did I do this? I want to go back… I want to go back… My peaceful, beautiful Kamt Mountain…
Tempted by demons, ‘Otan’ stole the ginkgo branch, a treasure of Kapiban village, and buried it in demon-tainted land, receiving the sacred tree’s curse. He became unable to move, sleep, or die from the spot where he buried the branch. All he could do was gather fallen leaves to build a hut to cover his starved, haggard form.
Gloomy Someone: But I started thinking… Did I do something bad enough to deserve this? If they’d just killed me, fine, but is a spirit that torments someone this cruelly really good? Isn’t it only natural that a village worshiping something like this fell to ruin?!
Gloomy Someone: Ah, no. No. I didn’t mean it. Please, isn’t this enough? Let me go back. My Kamt Mountain… I miss my grandmother. My grandmother…
In the Druid story, Otan ends up missing. It seemed you’d need to find the Shadow Warrior’s linked story to conclude Otan’s tale. I wondered if Shim Haemin knew this, but I had no way to ask. With no updates on SNS or the game, it felt like he’d vanished.
“…”
As before, there were still ways. His school was nearby. If I set my mind to it, finding him would be easy…
But as my father worried, what if he didn’t remember me? It’s been 15 years. If a stranger he’d never met showed up saying he wanted to meet, he’d likely be startled, burdened, or wary.
While lost in thought, mechanically pressing the keyboard, something caught my eye. Focusing, I saw a tiny Druid hopping eagerly in front of my character.
Meritocracy: Hey
Meritocracy: Use your DoT
Meritocracy: Use your DoT damage
Meritocracy: You can melt a rat in one hit
What? As I focused on the confusing chat, the rat I’d been fighting slammed into my character with a thud.
🕹️
‘Meritocracy’ saved me from the absurd crisis of a tank character dying to a field mob and kindly taught me many things afterward. Following his patient, friendly lessons and mimicking as best I could, I began to understand the game system that had been incomprehensible when I fumbled alone.
But teaching a clueless newbie everything from scratch couldn’t be anything but tedious. After an hour of repeating the same mistakes in the ‘training ground,’ ‘Merry-nim’ grew quieter. I couldn’t keep being a burden forever, so I was about to say I was fine when—
Meritocracy: Hey
Meritocracy: Have you hit the nature tier?
Of course, I had no idea what that meant. I didn’t even know what a tier was. After running a few tests with confused me, he suddenly said something unexpected.
Meritocracy: Wanna marry me?
I didn’t fully get it, but he seemed to have found something useful in my character.
I had nothing to lose, so there was no reason to refuse. Above all, playing with ‘Merry-nim’ was really fun. He explained the game’s story and systems clearly as we roamed the field together and gave generous praise for small progress.
Meritocracy: The green floor is holy ground, so dark attribute attacks deal half damage.
Meritocracy: This game gets way simpler if you just memorize the attribute rock-paper-scissors.
Around then, I felt a sense of familiarity. His vast knowledge and analytical skills aside, his deep attachment to the Druid character stood out. In this game, Druids were generally neglected and shunned. They were called ‘Nickmer’s exclusive job’ because no one but Shim Haemin used them well. So, it was odd for a so-called ‘newbie’ who’d just created a character to skillfully handle one while spouting game knowledge.
“…”
It was about three months ago, when I was busy preparing to return to Korea, that ‘NicknameMuhum’ disappeared during a raid. Rumors said he deleted his ID. Then ‘Meritocracy’ appeared…
Looking it up, ‘Meritocracy’ was a social science term meaning ‘a system where status or rewards are determined by ability or achievement, i.e., merit, rather than origin or lineage.’ And (per Google), Shim Haemin’s major was sociology.
Was I reading too much into it? I wanted to confirm, but there was no good way. I couldn’t just ask out of the blue if his name was Shim Haemin. I’d probably block someone who did that to me.
Mahura: Both girls?
That’s why I had to thank the mage who suddenly picked a fight.
Meritocracy: How do you know the story’s a sappy tearjerker when you’ve never played it?
Meritocracy: Everyone who knows says the story’s god-tier lol It’s written by Im Jungah, isn’t it?
I instinctively gripped my fingers tightly. The fact that ‘Shadow Warrior’ and ‘Druid’ job stories were by my mother was widely publicized, so it wasn’t strange for a fan to pick a Druid.
Meritocracy: Is skipping the story something to brag about, idiot?
Meritocracy: If you’re gonna ignore the story, why play an RPG? Go open a Windows tab and play Minesweeper. You buy an expensive subscription and skip the story, so all you’ve got left is harassing innocent newbies with your big mouth, huh?
Meritocracy: Anyway, you just spoiled it, right? I’m reporting you for obstructing gameplay, bye.
But how do I explain seeing echoes of blog comments from the distant past in his rapid-fire chat?
Bracing for awkwardness, I casually asked his age, and he said twenty-five. My vague hunch was steadily turning into certainty. If his name matched too, there’d be no room for doubt… The age was one thing, but asking his real name out of nowhere felt like too much.
How could I find out naturally? Thinking, I recalled the videos he’d appeared in. Having watched them to death, I clearly remembered his voice.
In tough raids, voice chat is used for faster, clearer commands. It was a bit sneaky, but I decided to mess up on purpose. In an important dungeon, I pretended to forget everything I’d learned, flailing uselessly. Sure enough, it didn’t take long for the suggestion I wanted.
Meritocracy: You got a Discord ID?
As soon as I made and shared an ID, a friend request came. My fingers, clicking the mouse on autopilot, froze.
《‘Haemin’ has added you as a friend.》
I was dizzy. Could it resolve this easily? It felt like all the luck was aligning for me to naturally reconnect with Shim Haemin. Everything ahead seemed like it would go smoothly. Buoyed like I was on a cloud, I impulsively pushed to meet up for that reason.
🕹️
And this is the result.
“…”
Famous people who overcome serious illnesses and appear in the media all say similar things. “I wanted to be a hope for others with the same disease.” Naturally, people overlook the fact that such stories gain attention because they’re so rare.
Another’s pain or hope is just that—their own. His life doesn’t guarantee anything about mine. That’s why I regretted it even more. Maybe Liam was hurt because I didn’t get angry. He might have sensed that I, shaking off the disease and returning home, wanted to draw a line between myself and him, still stuck in the hospital. If that’s why he couldn’t speak to me directly and left a message instead.
Now I can go anywhere, and everything will work out.
Looking at the morning sun rising, I thought. Really? When all the pain I’ve forgotten pools like muddy water in every step I’ve taken. When just pausing to look back soaks my whole body. When friends who didn’t make it to morning are still submerged in those puddles.
Shim Haemin didn’t ask why I broke the promise. He didn’t seem to care much about the promise itself. I felt relieved. I didn’t want to explain or lie.
For a while, I focused only on the game. Waking up, washing, eating breakfast, and sitting at the computer all day following Shim Haemin. When he left for school or to meet friends, I went to the training ground alone to practice skills. Shim Haemin even cut sleep to game while keeping up with studies. In the middle of a heated dungeon run, he’d excuse himself to take a call from the lab and leave right away.
—No choice. To protect my game life, I gotta handle my real life too.
That seemed to be his way of prioritizing his ‘game life.’ Still, I felt disappointed. Time flew unbelievably fast when playing with Shim Haemin, but without him, it became dull and boring.
Kkamamgom: Hyung ㅇ.ㅇ
Kkamamgom: What’re you doing? ㅇ.ㅇ
When I sent a message waiting for Shim Haemin, who didn’t return for a while, a kind reply came soon after.
Haemin: On my way ㅇㅇㅇ
Haemin: Be there in 5~
Ultimately, the first to feel alarmed about my life glued to the computer was my father.
“Son, I’d love you even if you became a gaming-addict hikikomori… But just in case your mental health is flashing red, I’d like to know. You get what I mean?”
I thought for a moment, but it seemed better to be honest than let my father worry I had serious depression. Listening attentively to my calm explanation, he let out a deep sigh, as expected.
“Son… That’s a bit dangerous. It could turn into cyberstalking.”
“Even just collecting public information is stalking?”
“Of course. Meeting in-game by chance is one thing, but searching personal info, finding his school, his SNS… That’s not okay. You can’t do that. Stop it. Got it?”
“…Yes.”
I still didn’t fully understand, but if that’s the common sense, it must be right. I nodded obediently, and my father sighed deeply again.
“Son, listen carefully. The basics of relationships are, you don’t try too hard.”
I consciously tilted my head slightly. Isn’t it the opposite? My father continued calmly, as if he knew my thoughts.
“Even if you like someone, don’t try too hard. If they see you’re desperate to get close, they usually feel burdened, not happy.”