“Why do you look so pale?”
It was when I got up later than usual, forcing myself to chew and swallow food that wouldn’t go down. Startled by the voice interrupting my thoughts, I looked up with wide eyes.
“Did you stay up studying all night?”
“Did you… not go to work?”
I just had a restless night, waking up at dawn because of a bad dream. I couldn’t fall back asleep and only lay down on the bed, so I was eating breakfast much later than usual. I was startled as if I was seeing a ghost, meeting someone late this morning. The person who should have already left for work by now was sitting comfortably across from me.
When the four of us lived together, it was common to hear that Director Ji had already left for work by the time I sat down for breakfast. But things changed when only he and I were left in the house. The change wasn’t in me; I came down for breakfast at the same time as before. The change was in the high likelihood of him being seated at the dining table.
Only then did I realize. He had avoided family meals by leaving the house excessively early. I understood this only when I couldn’t go back to those days.
“I have the day off.”
He gave a simple answer. I finally noticed his outfit. Unlike when he ate breakfast before going to work, he wasn’t wearing a suit, so I should have realized it was his day off without having to ask.
“I asked you first.”
It was an ill-timed comment. I hesitated for a moment, unable to remember what he’d asked, as he’d answered my question first and before pushed for my answer. Oh, right.
“I had a bad dream.”
I bowed my head to hide my disheveled face and resumed picking at my food. I knew without looking that I looked terrible. Having a bad dream, even if I did sleep, it didn’t feel like I had gotten any sleep at all, so my complexion must have been awful.
In my dream, I was in the wine cellar. It was the day my mom had beaten me for the last time. She had told me to die while beating me relentlessly. Even though my whole body was scratched by broken glass, no matter how desperately I groaned, she was only focused on trampling me in her madness. In her eyes, I wasn’t a person. I wasn’t even a pet. I was just a tool she could wield as she pleased. I gasped for breath, feeling like I was on the verge of death. The pain of that day vividly came back to me. Whoever said you can’t feel pain in dreams was wrong. I writhed in agony and eventually passed out from the intense suffering. That’s how I woke up from the dream.
I was confused. Which was my reality? Had I woken from the nightmare, or was I dreaming now after losing consciousness? After waking up and having an endless torment, I accepted that this was reality. But I feared that if I fell asleep again, this would turn out to be a dream, so I still couldn’t sleep.
It was just like my mom, to torment me even after her death.
My mom had meant it when she told me to die. But it was my mom who died first.
Knowing I was living well like this, my mom would have come back from hell with her eyes turned inside out.
I was relieved that this was reality. Even if I was called an ungrateful son, it couldn’t be helped. Since hearing about my mom’s death, I had never once missed the time when she was with me. That was the reality.
“It must have been about your mom.”
I almost dropped my chopsticks. I lifted my face that had been avoiding his gaze. I stared at him blankly as he calmly continued eating after making such a statement. I couldn’t find words to respond and stood stunned. What was his basis for saying that? Maybe he was just trying to test me. However, before I could ask anything, he spoke again.
“You honestly think it’s good that your mom is dead, don’t you?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. It felt like all the blood was draining from my body. The person in front of me was calmly using chopsticks, making it even harder for me to believe what I had heard.
Was it because he said something so harsh?
No.
It was because he had accurately seen through my ugly inner self.
“There’s no person who will beat you anymore.”
I remembered the day I first came to this house. I tried hard to hide my beaten face, but his sharp eyes caught it even in the brief moment I bowed to greet him. I also remembered the breakfast the morning after I was beaten in the wine cellar. When I lied to the chairman, saying I had fought with my friends, this man just silently watched me.
I wondered since when did he realize all those things were lies? Was it the day after I was beaten in the wine cellar, or from the very beginning?
“You don’t have to be cautious anymore in this big house, and you have a wealthy guardian backing you up.”
He always drew a clear line. He was not my older brother, and I was not his younger brother. He was the guardian, and I was the beneficiary, nothing more. It didn’t matter. I also felt more comfortable with him being the director rather than my brother.
“Everything has improved since your mom, who was holding you back, died, hasn’t it?”
“…It would be more humane to say no, but.”
So I didn’t need to pretend anymore. I didn’t need to act like a good person or pretend that I was a good son even though my mom treated me harshly.
“Yes.”
He was right.
“When I woke up from the dream, I was relieved that this reality had no one in the world who would beat me like that.”
Maybe I wanted to confess this true feeling to someone.
“I don’t care if people criticize me for living comfortably on bereavement money for my mom’s death.”
As I revealed my ugliness, it felt like a knot hidden deep in my chest was unraveling. I met his eyes, who had paused eating and had been quietly watching me since, and continued speaking.
“Because I was born to consume my mom’s life.”
I lowered my gaze after saying that. I picked up the chopsticks I had set down. Despite making a repulsively ugly confession, I took a spoonful of the cold rice as if I could still eat. No, just as I was about to do that.
“Did your mom say that to you?”
He asked, having quietly listened to my story.
“…I’ve heard much worse.”
I answered him and immediately shoved a mouthful of rice into my mouth. As if I had nothing more to say, I filled the empty space with food instead of words.
The conversation ended there.
He resumed eating too. It was a quiet meal time, as usual. I continued eating slowly, picking up side dishes without rushing. There were many side dishes as always. Even though I had a small appetite and was full after just one taste, I tried to eat as balanced as possible without being picky. When my mom and the chairman sat with me, it felt like chewing sand, but now I could savor the taste enough to pick up a couple more scoops of the side dishes I liked.
Then I suddenly realized.
Oh, back then. I always forced myself to eat the side dishes placed in front of me. I couldn’t even reach the side dish in front of him like I could now. I wondered if this was because my mom was no longer by my side? Was it because I didn’t need to be cautious as there was no longer someone across from me criticizing every move I made, calling me insolent? Lost in such thoughts, a firm voice interrupted my mind.
“If you have nothing special to do today, you can play in the study.”
I blinked slowly as if to savor those words.
His emphasis was more on ‘you can play in the study’ than ‘ you have nothing special to do’. It was like saying, “you should be staying in the study.” As the days I spent with him accumulated and continued, I learned to understand his manner of speech. Though he seemed cold and rough, beneath the surface, he wasn’t as harsh as he appeared. Like a hard shell hiding a soft fruit inside.
Yet, I wondered. Were I just hearing what I wanted to hear and misunderstanding what I wanted to misunderstand? But then I thought, did it matter? If the person holding my lifeline allowed me to live without being cautious anymore, what did it matter if it’s a misunderstanding?
After mulling over my thoughts, I silently nodded. It was unfamiliar to be able to express what I wanted freely. The simple act of being able to show my will made me realize the fact that my world had changed.
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