SHUDDER 9

The memories of the previous night were unclear. As soon as Gijeong returned from school, Mr. Yeom’s senseless violence began, and at some point, his consciousness faded. Whether he caught a cold or something inside him finally broke, even after waking in the morning, he could barely move a finger. His entire body’s strength was drained, and he kept sinking. He didn’t even have the energy to lift his eyelids.

Fearing that catching Mr. Yeom’s eye might spark more trouble, Gijeong stayed buried under the blanket all day. He must have dozed off or fainted; he wasn’t sure which.

When he came to and opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the white ceiling of the clinic. Turning his eyes sideways, he saw Hwang Jangyeop’s face, full of worry.

“She must have done it to survive. To live.”

Why bring that up suddenly? Maybe Hwang Jangyeop would understand. Maybe it was okay to act a little spoiled with him. A strange feeling stirred. Perhaps he wanted to lean on Hwang Jangyeop, who kept staying by his side out of concern. Maybe that’s why he poured out personal stories he didn’t need to share.

His mother wasn’t a saint. She was just a person trying to numb herself to the pain and sorrow anyone would feel, not someone immune to those emotions. His father overlooked that. Or perhaps he deliberately ignored it. That’s why he couldn’t comfort her when she needed it.

After Giyeong was born, his mother often seemed lost. She’d sit blankly, staring at the empty yard, then collapse lifelessly, lacking any drive. The fierce determination to earn even a little more money was gone.

She must have hoped Giyeong’s birth would change things. But seeing his father unchanged, she must have painfully realized that no matter how hard she struggled, nothing would improve.

His mother was already drained. Clenching her teeth, telling herself to endure once more, only to face repeated disappointment, she must have been exhausted. She likely realized the miserable environment trapping her was an inescapable chain. That realization bred resignation, and that resignation stole her strength to keep going.

“Waaaah. Waaah, waaaaah.”

“The baby’s crying. Aren’t you going to feed him?”

The newborn wailed constantly. Though his father slept all day, he couldn’t stand the noise. At his irritable urging, his mother, with unfocused eyes, dragged Giyeong’s blanket closer. She lifted her shirt to nurse the hungry child.

But Giyeong, sucking eagerly, soon cried more pitifully.

“Hwaaaaah. Hwaaaaah.”

“Damn it! Can’t you calm him down? It’s too loud to sleep!”

At the loud crying, his father leapt up, venting his frustration. His mother calmly set Giyeong down. Then, crawling on her knees, she grabbed his father’s hand and pressed it to her breast. Startled by her sudden action, his father yanked his hand away.

“What the hell are you doing!”

“The baby’s hungry and crying, but there’s no milk. It’s all dried up. Touch it. Go on, touch it!”

His mother, who never raised her voice to his father, rebelled for the first time, her neck veins bulging. It was a time when not nursing could cause breast pain. But malnourished during pregnancy and unable to eat properly postpartum, her milk couldn’t satisfy Giyeong’s hunger.

She must have harbored deep resentment toward his irresponsible, incompetent father. Having been swindled out of money secretly sent by her family, she likely had no more patience or generosity to give.

His mother grabbed his father’s hand again, hitting her chest as if punishing herself. He tried to pull away, but she clung desperately. Finally, his father slapped her cheek.

The air seemed to freeze. Giyeong’s crying stopped at the violent sound. His mother collapsed sideways, unable to move. Her cheek swelled red instantly, blood beading at her lip. She trembled in shock. His father, flustered by his own violence, shouted louder.

“I told you to stop! You think I’m doing this for fun? There’s nowhere to use me, so where am I supposed to get money? Should I climb someone’s wall to make you happy? Huh?”

His mother wailed like a child. His father’s irritation and eventual storming out didn’t stop her. She cried even more bitterly. Each piece of her raw grief pierced Gijeong’s heart like sharp thorns.

That’s when it started—his father’s merciless violence. His mother was almost always the victim. Was it because she exposed his pathetic, incompetent, petty self? He tried to reclaim his fallen authority by dominating the family with force.

Meanwhile, his mother grew sicker. A newborn, a son needing her support, a husband drowning in liquor and self-justification, and his violence—the reality she faced was too lonely and heavy.

Back then, Gijeong feared she’d let go of everything. She seemed ready to shake off life’s harsh trials and float away. Her empty eyes held nothing.

Ironically, that fear came true soon enough. His father had another baseless outburst. In the face of routine violence, his mother lay helpless. At first, he threw pillows and blankets, then kicked her, and finally straddled her, choking her neck.

She gasped, kicking the floor. Her feet slid futilely. If left like that, she might die. It felt like his father would kill her.

“Stop it! Please, stop!”

“You brat! Get out of the way!”

Mr. Yeom grabbed Gijeong, who tried to intervene, and threw him aside. Flung to the floor by his reckless strength, Gijeong crawled back, shielding his mother with his body. He even bit his father’s legs and arms in desperation.

“Don’t do it! Don’t!”

“You dare bite your father!”

Mr. Yeom beat Gijeong, who protected his mother. She threw herself to shield her son, and he fought to protect her in a tragic struggle. Raging until his breath hitched, Mr. Yeom panted heavily, then blamed the “damn house” and left.

The remaining mother and son clung to each other’s battered bodies, sobbing. They cried because of his father’s cruelty, wishing he’d disappear, and fearing their own malice.

At dawn, exhausted and asleep, his mother sat at Gijeong’s feet, silently stroking them. Occasionally swallowing sobs, she wiped tears from her cheeks.

Her muffled crying pierced his heart. Unable to sleep, Gijeong held his breath so she wouldn’t notice.

“I’m sorry. Mom’s sorry.”

Repeating apologies, she lingered at his feet, then suddenly stood. Quietly opening the door, she left without even a small bag. Gijeong vaguely felt it might be her last moment.

She was leaving, turning away from an overwhelming reality. It wasn’t betrayal. The pain she’d endured was too great to judge so simply.

Gijeong twitched to run after her but curled up, clenching his teeth. He wanted to stop her but felt he shouldn’t. He couldn’t be cruel to someone so broken, living a life that barely felt like living.

She would leave and never return, burdened by guilt and shame for abandoning her family.

Could Gijeong survive without her?

He was scared, lost. Despite restraining himself, he leapt up and chased her. She was descending the slope to the harbor, drifting like debris in the current.

“Mom!”

Her steps halted at his cry, but she didn’t turn. Gijeong clung to her, as if she’d vanish.

“Don’t go!”

He pleaded tearfully. Knowing she needed to leave to survive, he still wanted her to stay, to remain his mother despite the certainty of breaking if she did.

“Take me with you! Take me, Mom!”

He wailed like a child as she resumed walking, resentful of her coldness. Humans are selfish; his fear overshadowed her visible pain.

Soon, Giyeong’s cries erupted from the house. Whether hungry, wet, or sensing his pitiful fate, he wailed desperately. Gijeong called out, feeling as if he were vomiting his bruised heart.

“Mom! Don’t go!”

But she wiped her eyes and ran, not looking back at her children. Perhaps she sensed that hesitating would trap her in maternal guilt forever, chaining her to a miserable fate.

That night, Gijeong sat outside the house she left, crying silently so his father wouldn’t hear and chase her. The waves swallowed his sobs, the wind stealing his tears.

The only thing he could do for her wasn’t shielding her from his father’s violence or easing her burdens. It was simply not clinging to her as she left.

The next afternoon, his father returned, laughing hollowly upon learning of her departure. He didn’t search for her, only rummaged for hidden liquor bottles, drinking relentlessly as if testing how much it took to die.

Drinking with sighs and tears as sides, his father’s eyes reddened for the first time. Regretful tears fell into his glass.

And so, only those left behind remained.

“I know my father isn’t evil. Just weak and scared. Living like this, we’ll never be happy. It’s not just his fault. This island makes it so. This place, cut off from the world, forces you to compromise, resign, and submit, like it’s natural. You can’t live humanely here. I want to live. I want to live like a person.”

His voice trembled as he recalled the grim past. Tears welled in his eyes, ready to spill.

But Gijeong didn’t cry. He swallowed hard, enduring. Hwang Jangyeop, unable to find words, listened silently, then turned, showing his broad back.

“Get on. Let’s go.”

Gijeong shook his head. Leaning on that back, even briefly, might make him want to collapse. He didn’t want to settle for resignation. He hadn’t fought so hard for that.

But Hwang Jangyeop ignored his stubbornness. He grabbed Gijeong’s arm, hoisting him onto his back. Gijeong’s arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, his limp body settling comfortably against him.

Burying his face in Hwang Jangyeop’s thick neck, his scent enveloped Gijeong. His warmth radiated through. Just leaning there, feeling human warmth, was deeply comforting.

Hwang Jangyeop walked through the deserted night streets toward Gijeong’s home. On his back, Gijeong wished the journey would never end, that he could rest against that warm, broad back forever.

Life’s hardships, a bleak future, the relentless optimism he’d clung to, and the sad family history—he wanted to set it all aside, even briefly, and lean on Hwang Jangyeop’s ambiguous kindness. Shamelessly, he kept longing for it.

Was it okay to accept this kindness? To pretend not to see what was obvious?

If Hwang Jangyeop’s kindness, his uncharacteristic goodwill, was to keep Gijeong close, he couldn’t comply, sorry as he was. Having taken on his mother’s burdens and clung to one hope, he couldn’t let it go so easily.

The exam proctor tilted his head, comparing Gijeong’s ID photo to his face. The photo showed clear skin, but Gijeong’s face was covered in scars. The bruise from the broom hadn’t faded.

Gijeong lowered his head, as if guilty. The pitying looks from strangers were burdensome. He wanted to hide the scars exposing his weakness.

The blackboard read “College Scholastic Ability Test” in large letters. The long-awaited moment had arrived. The exam room was stiflingly silent. Today would reshape his life’s blueprint. The tension made everyone jump at the sound of a falling pen.

The bell rang, and test papers were distributed. Gijeong took a deep breath and scanned the questions calmly. With each problem solved, painful memories surfaced. As he marked the answer sheet, his mother’s lingering pain came to mind.

He was afraid. Where would his life go after this brief exam? The certainty that his future would differ from now heightened his fear.

When the bell signaled the end, his hands trembled. Strangely, he felt neither relief nor accomplishment, only emptiness. That these few questions would determine his future, and that he’d run toward this moment, felt futile.

Gijeong stood only after all the other examinees left like a receding tide.

“Mom!”

“Here, Sooyoung! Here, here!”

“There he comes! Haechan! Dad’s here!”

The school gate was crowded with people meeting examinees. Those ahead and behind Gijeong returned to their families. He couldn’t expect that, so he didn’t even feel envy. But he couldn’t look away from a mother hugging her child, praising their effort.

Pushed out of the exam hall, he felt detached from the commotion. The cars and people at the gate hurried home. In the darkening, empty street, Gijeong felt alone.

He kept walking, anywhere. For that day, he just wanted to wander. He ended up at a chicken shop near the ferry terminal. Golden fried chicken piled high behind the glass. He impulsively opened the door and entered.

“Welcome.”

The busy shop owner greeted warmly. Gijeong scanned the small interior and took a table. The savory chicken smell clung to his clothes.

The owner brought water quickly.

“Student, alone?”

“Yes.”

“What’ll you have?”

“Um… can I just have the pickled radish?”

“What? Just the radish, not chicken?”

“Yes.”

The odd request made the owner tilt her head, but she brought the pickled radish without complaint.

Gijeong stared at the sour radish slices stacked in the plastic bowl. Just looking made his mouth water.

He picked up a piece with chopsticks and slowly put it in his mouth. The sweet-sour taste spread, stinging his jaw. Crunch, crunch. Chewing slowly, he thought of his mother.

It was the day of his first exam after restarting middle school on the island. Holding a perfect test paper like a trophy, he headed home, eager to make his weary mother smile. Humming, he flung open the peeling gate, calling for her. She was alone in the kitchen.

About to call out happily, he froze. With her back turned, as if hiding, she was shoving something into her mouth.

It was chicken radish. The white, sour pickled radish that came free with chicken. She grabbed handfuls, eating greedily, swallowing without chewing. Watching blankly, Gijeong couldn’t say he was home. It felt wrong.

Her turned back overlapped with a memory. Once, on his way home from school, he saw her lingering outside a rotisserie chicken shop. He’d heard pregnancy doubles cravings, but she never mentioned wanting anything, not even casually.

But did she truly have no desires?

“Ugh… cough! Cough, cough!”

As his heart ached and he turned to leave, she coughed violently, choking on the hurried bites. Her face reddened with repeated coughs.

An unknown dark emotion swept through him. It felt like witnessing something forbidden, the weakest part of his mother, who endured harshly for her family. He shouldn’t have spied like a thief.

Yet his feet stayed rooted. Covering his mouth, he watched.

She pounded her chest, the sound echoing. Gagging, she vomited the barely chewed radish, each piece intact.

Seeing her tremble and retch, he nearly screamed. His eyes burned, his nose stung, emotions flooding uncontrollably.

He fled to his room, wiping tears roughly, scrubbing until his eyes reddened.

She groaned all night. His father grumbled about what she’d eaten, her lips blue, sweating coldly, but Gijeong stayed silent. He didn’t want to make her seem more pitiful.

Biting his lip, he opened a book on the table. Tears blurred the words, but he endured.

He wanted to free her from that wretched life. He believed only he, not his father, could make it happen. Back then, studying was all he could do to escape their reality. He believed in it, ran toward it.

---

Days after the exam, the old house, with its drafty walls and leaky roof, burned down in an instant.

Giyeong, inside, only singed his hand, but Mr. Yeom, stubbornly refusing to leave, suffered full-body burns and ended up in intensive care. During his stay, he was conscious only a few times, unable to recognize people or converse. He writhed in excruciating pain, fainting repeatedly.

Was death closer in such a precarious life? Did his failed, broken life have to end so tragically? Watching Mr. Yeom groan in pain, Gijeong felt pity more than sadness, human to human.

He’d planned to find work and save money right after the exam, but Mr. Yeom’s accident ruined everything. Gijeong spent most days at the hospital. Hwang Jangyeop, after fishing, visited faithfully, sitting by Gijeong, doing nothing but watching Mr. Yeom.

Their bond wasn’t deep. Hwang Jangyeop wasn’t the type to care about neighbors’ misfortunes. His frequent hospital visits, enduring the hassle, were for Gijeong.

Gijeong knew it. It was obvious. He just lacked the energy to dwell on Hwang Jangyeop’s feelings for him.

The doctor said not to be surprised if Mr. Yeom passed anytime. It was a miracle he was still alive.

Did Mr. Yeom fight fiercely to survive? Or did life’s shadow refuse to let him go?

“Go home for today. I can stay alone.”

Gijeong tried to send Hwang Jangyeop, who came as always, away early. But he snorted, ignoring him.

“You, alone? Sure. A kid who’s never seen someone die.”

“I’m really fine…”

“Stop talking nonsense and sleep. Your eyes are bloodshot.”

His gruff nagging was out of concern, Gijeong knew. Used to it, he still felt awkward, rubbing his eyes.

Hwang Jangyeop grabbed Gijeong’s head, who looked ready to collapse but refused to lie down, and pushed him down. Gijeong slumped weakly.

“Sleep.”

Struggling to rise, Gijeong gave up, relaxing. Turning slowly, he lay down. His tense muscles gradually eased.

Planning to rest briefly, he stared at the white ceiling, his vision blurring. As he fought to keep his eyes open, Hwang Jangyeop covered them with his hand, grumbling to stop worrying.

“Don’t worry.” That phrase, like a spell, closed his eyes. Gijeong soon fell asleep, breathing deeply.

“Stubborn kid.”

Hwang Jangyeop lifted his hand from Gijeong’s eyes, grumbling but smirking faintly.

About to cover Gijeong with his jacket, he paused, shaking it vigorously, then gently laid it over him. He adjusted Gijeong’s curled body, pulling his ankles to straighten his knees. Gijeong’s face relaxed slightly.

Hwang Jangyeop squatted, gazing endlessly at the sleeping Gijeong.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

Hwang Jangyeop sighed deeply, exasperated. Then, he reached out and gently brushed Gijeong’s eyelashes, trembling with each breath. He softly touched the tip of Gijeong’s round nose. Despite the large shadow moving over his face, Gijeong slept soundly, undisturbed, as if he wouldn’t notice if someone carried him away.

“…….”

Hwang Jangyeop’s fingers, hovering in the air, hesitated briefly before touching Gijeong’s slightly parted lips. He fidgeted with the soft lips, then abruptly turned away. His furrowed face was filled with confused emotions. Clenching the fingers that had touched Gijeong’s face as if to break them, he muttered a low curse.

Mr. Yeom lingered for another month before passing away. Right before his death, he briefly woke, writhing in searing pain, then stopped breathing. His face was contorted, limbs twisted grotesquely. In his final gasping breath, he stared at Gijeong. Did he have something to say? But he never even called his son’s name.

After Mr. Yeom’s death, everything moved quickly. They placed him in the hospital’s funeral parlor. The only visitors to the bare, wreath-less wake were the village chief, the corner store owner, and Mr. Park. The chief likely came as a representative of the village, pushed into it, while the store owner probably came for old ties with Gijeong’s mother. It starkly showed how isolated Mr. Yeom had lived.

Hwang Jangyeop stayed at the wake throughout. He didn’t care about missing three days of fishing. For Gijeong, the time passed like a storm. Spending three days and nights at his father’s altar, countless thoughts swirled, but no clear conclusions emerged. Overwhelmed by too many thoughts, he often sat in a daze.

Hwang Jangyeop watched the blank Gijeong silently, then sat beside him, offering his broad shoulder. Gijeong leaned his head on it without hesitation. Dozing sporadically like that, he wished the time wouldn’t pass.

“…Excuse me.”

It was the last day of the funeral. A man visited the empty wake. Hwang Jangyeop gently shook the sleeping Gijeong awake and went out to greet the visitor. Soon, their murmured conversation drifted in.

“Is the bereaved here Yeom Gijeong, the student?”

“That’s right. What brings you?”

“Hello. I’m Gijeong’s homeroom teacher.”

Snapping awake, Gijeong hurried out. Hwang Jangyeop and the teacher looked at him simultaneously. Gijeong bowed silently to the teacher.

After paying respects, the teacher bowed back and clasped Gijeong’s hands tightly. Even that comforting gesture drew a sharp glance from Hwang Jangyeop. Unaware of its meaning, the teacher suggested they step outside.

“I have something to discuss. Shall we talk outside, get some fresh air?”

The teacher left first. Gijeong glanced at Hwang Jangyeop, who stood with a displeased expression, but he nodded reluctantly for Gijeong to go.

The teacher handed Gijeong an envelope. His heart began pounding heavily. Opening the sealed envelope, he pulled out the paper inside. He studied the words for a long time. Though clearly printed, his mind couldn’t fully grasp their meaning.

“Congratulations.”

Only after the teacher’s words did Gijeong let out an “Ah.” In his hands was an acceptance letter, earned through years of relentless effort.

The teacher patted Gijeong’s shoulder, praising his hard work, beaming as if it were his own joy.

But Gijeong felt strangely caught. Was it disbelief? The dreamlike reality? Or was he too exhausted to feel joy? Despite the long-awaited news, his heart sank inexplicably.

“I got into a university in Seoul.”

After the teacher left, Gijeong returned to the wake and shared the news with Hwang Jangyeop, who stared at him. His head still foggy, he wasn’t sure how his voice sounded. Hwang Jangyeop’s face darkened rapidly. His brow and eyes twitched, then furrowed deeply.

Suddenly, the empty wake felt stifling. The air seemed to thin. It was hard to meet Hwang Jangyeop’s gaze, fixed on the floor.

After a long silence, Hwang Jangyeop spoke with difficulty.

“…So. You’re going?”

He asked bluntly, his eyes, once on the floor, now on Gijeong, filled with a desperate, pitiful intensity.

For years, Gijeong had run toward returning to Seoul, dreaming only of that. There was no room for doubt. It was obvious, yet he couldn’t answer quickly.

He opened his mouth, but words caught in his throat. His lips trembled with hesitation.

Hwang Jangyeop held his breath, focusing solely on Gijeong’s lips. Unable to bear that gaze, Gijeong turned away.

“Yes. I want to.”

Hwang Jangyeop gasped, as if mocking his own foolish hope.

“Damn it!”

Looking at the ceiling, trying to suppress his anger, he kicked the guestbook table’s chair. It flew into the hallway, clattering loudly.

Hwang Jangyeop stormed out. Watching him leave, fuming, Gijeong realized why he couldn’t fully rejoice. His dreams and ambitions had become someone’s despair.

After seeing off his father, Mr. Yeom, the brothers returned to the island village. But with their meager livelihood gone, they had nowhere to go. Midwinter’s harsh winds whipped their tender skin like a lash.

“Hyung, it’s cold.”

Giyeong sniffled, shivering. All Gijeong could do was hug his little brother tightly, rubbing his goosebumped arms.

University in Seoul. He’d achieved his dream, but nothing changed. Things got worse. With their shabby home and irresponsible father gone, nothing remained. The acceptance letter, hard-won against crushing reality, couldn’t shield them from hunger or cold.

He thought he’d reached the tunnel’s end, only to find a longer one ahead. He believed university acceptance would change everything, but harsher realities loomed. How much more to endure, how far to go—he wasn’t sure.

He wanted to collapse, to let go of everything rather than cling to this wretched existence. It felt like sinking into a dark swamp. Struggling to escape only pulled him deeper.

Where to go? That question brought Hwang Jangyeop to mind, shamelessly. His disappointed, angry face lingered. Hesitating, Gijeong headed to his house.

“No room for you here, so don’t bother me. Get lost.”

Hwang Jangyeop refused, but Gijeong pleaded. Sensing the emptiness and loss he’d face if Gijeong left for Seoul, he shook his head firmly. But Gijeong set an inescapable trap. He needed him that desperately.

“Just for a bit. Please. I’ll do anything you say.”

He clung, resigned, throwing himself recklessly. Unaware of the poison that plea held for both.

Ravenous with unfamiliar hunger, Hwang Jangyeop devoured the prey offering itself, heedless of potential venom. His restraint was gone; his desire had long surpassed its limit.

Hwang Jangyeop’s rough hands overpowered Gijeong. His heavy weight pressed down, hot breath grazing his ear. His scent overwhelmed, seeping deep into Gijeong’s brain. A growling beast filled his vision, eyes gleaming. Fear gripped him, as if his throat would be torn apart.

“Ahh… ugh…”

He screamed at the sensation of flesh ripping into him, Hwang Jangyeop’s organ battering with violent force. The suffocating pain made him thrash desperately.

Hwang Jangyeop unleashed his suppressed, dark desire. Each thrust of his ferocious organ shattered Gijeong’s resolve and will.

When the frenzied act ended, unbearable emptiness overwhelmed him. Why was he doing this? What had he endured for? Everything blurred.

One thing was clear: Hwang Jangyeop wasn’t the answer. Concluding that all his struggles led to him was mere self-deception, laughable rationalization.

He’d sold his body for fleeting comfort. Realizing Hwang Jangyeop’s weakness was himself, he exploited it for a night’s rest. That act was nothing more, nothing less.

Dirty. Base, impure. He was disgusted with himself, unable to even claim he had no choice. The return of reality post-act left him desolate.

“I’m off to work. Rest quietly.”

Hwang Jangyeop, fondling Gijeong’s body, finally withdrew, whispering. Dressing for the early fishing, he kept glancing at Gijeong. His gaze, after that night, was more direct, warmer.

He draped his coat over Gijeong, lying limply without a blanket, as Giyeong had rolled it up in sleep. Hesitating at the door, he looked back, closing it slowly. His footsteps lingered outside, his cheerful humming as he left perhaps an illusion.

Gijeong lay still until Hwang Jangyeop’s presence faded, trying to shake off his lingering warmth and vivid sensations. But in a room filled with his scent, it was futile. Painful memories resurfaced, nausea rising.

“Ugh…”

He leapt up, rushing outside, but collapsed before reaching the bathroom, vomiting.

“Haa… ha… ugh, urgh.”

Only bile came up, burning his throat. Nausea kept him from lifting his head from the sink. Tears leaked from the retching shaking his chest and throat. His insides felt scorched. Trying to breathe deeply, the sour smell churned his stomach again.

The price of ignoring reason. Crippling self-loathing gnawed at him. It felt like worms hatched from the crystallization of desire deep inside, spreading from his shame across his body. Scratching frantically was useless. He felt he’d go mad.

Without hesitation, Gijeong doused himself with icy water from a rubber basin. Unsatisfied, he poured more. His cells shrank in the cold; his skin reddened as if under an alarm. His fingertips numbed, a headache froze his mind, but he kept pouring, as if punishing himself.

“Look at this lunatic! It’s not even dawn, what crazy thing is he doing!”

Hwang Jangyeop’s mother, woken by the commotion, flung open the door, yelling. She seemed more shocked by Gijeong dousing himself in freezing weather than his nakedness.

Running out barefoot, she grabbed towels from the clothesline, throwing them at Gijeong, lamenting her son bringing in a madman. Gijeong, trembling, fainted mid-scolding.

After that, Hwang Jangyeop treated Gijeong like his wife. He sat him down for every meal, reported his comings and goings, drank less with other men, and chased away women who visited, barring their return. At night, he’d push the sleeping Giyeong aside and overpower Gijeong.

For Gijeong, vomiting at the sink after being with Hwang Jangyeop became routine. He thought he’d grow numb, but his stomach churned every time.

Trading his body for a warm bed and food brought endless self-loathing. His faint reason urged escape, but his body, clinging to survival, stayed. Days passed in a daze.

Gijeong stayed holed up in Hwang Jangyeop’s room. Sometimes he watched Giyeong play alone in the yard, but mostly he stared at the ceiling, lost in time. Rarely, he wandered to the old house site, with only the gate, mailbox, and sink left.

That day was the same. Slipping on sneakers, he climbed the slope slowly. The familiar, soot-blackened gate came into view, untouched.

He paused because of a postman lingering there. The postman, checking the address scrawled on the gate, tilted his head. Spotting Gijeong, he greeted him warmly.

“Hello? Do you live around here?”

“Yes. What’s the matter?”

“There’s mail for this house.”

The postman held out an envelope. It was from the admissions office of the university Gijeong was accepted to. He opened it on the spot. The postman jumped, protesting, but Gijeong didn’t hear. It was a tuition bill. Only ten days remained to pay.

Please note that failure to pay tuition by the specified deadline will result in cancellation of admission.

Reading the notice snapped him awake. The goal he’d briefly forgotten amid recent chaos resurfaced. It wasn’t over. He couldn’t let this hard-won achievement slip away.

Clutching the bill, he returned to Hwang Jangyeop’s house. Opening the gate, he found Hwang Jangyeop in the yard, likely back from work.

“Where were you?”

“…Nowhere. Just out.”

He hid the envelope. Hwang Jangyeop eyed him suspiciously but didn’t press.

“Come on, eat.”

He gruffly called Gijeong to the table.

Thin pork belly sizzled on the pan. Giyeong bounced excitedly at the thought of meat. Hwang Jangyeop fed him first, then piled the rest in front of Gijeong, urging him to eat with a piercing stare.

Gijeong knew Hwang Jangyeop wasn’t bad. Despite some resentment, gratitude was stronger. So he couldn’t tell him.

He tucked the bill deep into his pocket. Showing it would make Hwang Jangyeop despair again. Gijeong didn’t want to burden his kindness further or hurt him.

People hiding something often overact. Gijeong was no different. Uncharacteristically, he shoveled rice into his mouth, devouring the pork Hwang Jangyeop offered.

Seeing Gijeong eat heartily, Hwang Jangyeop looked satisfied, as if his own hunger was sated. Unable to meet his gaze, Gijeong kept his head down, chewing laboriously.

Money didn’t come. Loans were elusive. He asked Mr. Park, who’d always been kind, but with many dependents, he could only slip Gijeong a hundred thousand won, apologizing. Gijeong couldn’t beg more.

The shop owner’s situation was similar. With no family to support, her small shop’s earnings were meager. In a village living day-to-day, university tuition was an astronomical sum.

The village chief suggested asking Hwang Jangyeop, saying he was the only one who could afford it.

But that was impossible. How could Gijeong ask the person least wanting him to leave for tuition?

He consulted his teacher, visited banks repeatedly, and sought part-time jobs.

But places offering decent money rejected him, and even small jobs wanted long-term workers. His frail body struggled to earn even ten thousand won.

Time slipped away cruelly, with no money gathered. Lethargy and anxiety dominated. Missing this chance, he didn’t know when another would come. He wasn’t sure he could endure another year. Giving up now would end his life.

Cornered, he’d clutch at straws. Desperation peaked as the deadline neared. He begged the university to extend it, pleaded with banks for loans, and stared at loan shark flyers. In his haste, he felt he’d sell an organ if asked.

“What are you doing here?”

Stomping his feet under the setting sun, Hwang Jangyeop appeared. Facing him, something Gijeong had held back collapsed.

In the end, it was only Hwang Jangyeop. Though he’d avoided saying it, he had no choice but to beg him.

Hwang Jangyeop seemed to know already. His gaze asked if Gijeong would dare bring it up, his brow already furrowed.

“Money… please lend me some!”

Knowing it would hurt him, Gijeong still said it. Hwang Jangyeop’s face crumbled, stunned by betrayal and despair. As he tried to pull away, Gijeong pleaded, begging for help, promising to repay, vowing to visit whenever possible to ease his fears. He spewed words frantically to sway him.

But it only fueled Hwang Jangyeop’s burning heart. In a deserted warehouse, his desperate body fell. Hwang Jangyeop pinned Gijeong, who begged for mercy, tearing off his clothes.

Gijeong thrashed to escape. He clawed Hwang Jangyeop’s face, kicked wildly. His desperate struggle was like a beast’s final fight against a predator.

But the strength difference made resistance futile. Hwang Jangyeop, as if protesting Gijeong’s ignorance of his heart, ravaged him. Wielding his massive organ like a weapon, he rampaged. Blood and wounds marked Gijeong’s frail body, but his heart hurt more, torn apart inside.

Hwang Jangyeop, ignoring Gijeong’s desperation, was cruel. Knowing Gijeong’s dreams, why wouldn’t he understand? The suffocating resentment overwhelmed him.

Watching his exhausted mother, Gijeong had clenched his teeth. Seeing his defeated father, he vowed never to compromise or resign. He’d endured with hope of escaping this hellish reality. Now, Hwang Jangyeop was shattering that fragile hope.

Being crushed by the person he trusted most was excruciating. Gijeong felt it bone-deep.

“Huuuuh. Huuuuh.”

The tears he’d held back burst. Every suppressed emotion melted into them.

He’d lost. Unable to escape the mire he swore to overcome, he’d collapsed, seduced by fleeting comfort.

Everything was ending. Truly, everything was over.

People can live without dreams. If living means merely breathing, without thought or passion.

Life afterward flowed meaninglessly for Gijeong. Hwang Jangyeop tried to compensate for crushing his heart with greater care, but the gaping hole in Gijeong’s chest couldn’t be filled.

He’d lost his sole, long-cherished hope. The immense loss broke his will to live. Some might scoff, saying to live with grit if you lack teeth, that most people just compromise. Goals and achievements are abstract notions from self-help books.

But for Gijeong, it was a denial of his entire past, chasing a faint light. He’d lost his way forward.

He wanted to abandon his body, to wither or rot without even water.

Thinking, eating, breathing—all were tedious. Overwhelming despair evaporated his will, instincts, emotions, and thoughts. A lump of protein. No better description fit.

The blanket over his head was yanked off. Hwang Jangyeop’s face filled the dark void of his vision.

“Don’t dawdle like a slug. Get ready.”

He was going to a big market, excited despite not showing it. His neat attire betrayed his enthusiasm. Likely using the market as an excuse for a date, something others did. Giyeong, thrilled to go, sang off-key, bouncing.

But their joy didn’t reach Gijeong. Despite Hwang Jangyeop’s urging, he only blinked. Everything felt bothersome. He wished to be left alone, like air or dust.

“I’m not feeling well. Please let me rest today.”

He burrowed back under the blanket. Hwang Jangyeop grumbled about never resting but checked Gijeong’s forehead, worried. Feeling a slight fever, he clicked his tongue and backed off.

“I’ll be back. Keep your butt clean and wait.”