‘Why did I even have you….’
Yoo Sinju’s mother was an alcoholic. She always said that to him, drunk without fail. A face and voice drowning in self-loathing. Yoo Sinju lived trapped in that place alongside her, always turning the same question over in his mind.
Why was he even born.
Having lingered around trying to scrape together a meal for his mother who hadn’t eaten a single bite, only to end up getting slapped for it, Yoo Sinju wandered the neighborhood that day as he always did. Staying out until late was the best option — the only way to keep out of his mother’s sight.
Yoo Sinju lived in the nicest house in the neighborhood, but the people around them looked at him with the kind of sideways pity reserved for beggars. It made sense. He was old enough for school but never went, roaming the streets every day with fresh wounds on his face.
It was during one of those aimless walks that he first encountered that person’s little brother. A kid surrounded by neighborhood children, being used as a punching bag. He was around the same age as Sinju, but seemed far behind in both height and intellect. Honestly — Yoo Sinju didn’t like him. Not because the kid also wore wounds on his face the way he did, or because he always spent his time alone, staring blankly at nothing like an outcast.
‘Huijae, hyung’s here.’
It was because, despite being in the exact same situation as Sinju, that kid had someone he didn’t.
‘Hyung. Hyung.’
The stuttering fool who sat there expressionless every day, staring off into the distance like a hollow shell — the moment he saw his older brother, he broke into the brightest smile. That face, so radiant and guileless, made Sinju’s envy cut even deeper. The fact that there was someone who could make him smile like that.
The fool’s older brother was tall. Far taller than the older boys in the neighborhood, and scary enough that even they couldn’t do a thing against him. Everyone feared him — but to Yoo Sinju’s eyes, he wasn’t frightening at all. Maybe it was because the image of him scooping his little brother up in his arms with that faint smile took up so much more space in Sinju’s mind. Or maybe it was because he understood that the man’s violence was a means of protecting someone.
After stealing a few glances at the two brothers together, Yoo Sinju returned home late at night and stared at the pitch-black interior of his house — not a single light on — with the blank eyes of a corpse.
‘Hyung….’
Is having an older brother really that wonderful?
In the darkness, Yoo Sinju looked at the full-length mirror by the door. What he saw there was something even more broken than a young boy who didn’t know how to smile. An age too young to know that what ached inside him was loneliness. At that tender age, Yoo Sinju was already clawing just to stay alive.
The next day, young Sinju deliberately approached the fool. He lingered near him, picked fights with the kids who bullied him, making himself known. He waited beside the fool on purpose, staying with him until his older brother came. On purpose, he protected the brother that man cherished so dearly from the cruel kids.
All in the hope that maybe that older brother would come to like him too.
Like me too.
Hold me too.
Protect me too.
Me too… me too….
Even if it was a warped kind of affection — when he was little, he still wanted to reach out and get even that. Even if it was sympathy dressed up as attention, he wanted to escape the solitude he’d carried since childhood. For that, young Yoo Sinju needed that older brother. When those firm arms — so much like an adult’s — lifted him up without warning, it felt exactly like flying. When he was scooped up the same way as the man’s own little brother, his heart felt ready to burst. Because it felt so good. The feeling of being held warmly by someone — Yoo Sinju learned what that was for the very first time at around ten years old.
‘Whether you’re my real brother or not, getting hurt is the same either way.’
‘…….’
‘Take care of yourself. Live protecting your own body.’
He was the first person to teach Sinju what warmth felt like. And the first person to teach him to protect himself.
The first and only person to ever tell him to live — when all he’d done was wonder why he was born at all.
Then one day, an unfamiliar adult came to the house. Other than the occasional helper who came by from time to time, no one ever set foot in that house. The man in a suit glanced at Yoo Sinju, who stared back with a look caught between curiosity and wariness, then let out an audible sigh. Just then, his mother came rushing out at the sight of the unrecognized visitor, grabbing at the man desperately.
‘Did he come looking for me?’
Those were the first words out of her mouth — no greeting whatsoever. Tangled hair, the thick reek of alcohol, disheveled clothes, bare feet stripped of any sense of decorum. The suited man ran his gaze slowly down her appearance, making no effort to hide his distaste. Then he tossed something onto the floor.
“Next week.”
“…What are you talking about?”
“The child.”
His mother’s face went cold as she fumbled to pick up whatever had been thrown on the ground.
“…A passport?”
“The Vice Chairman wishes to send only the child.”
“What…?”
“I’ll have a car sent at the right time. Just have the child cleaned up and ready.”
“What do you mean by that?!”
Yoo Sinju, sensing something was wrong, hid himself and eavesdropped on the conversation. His mother’s momentary flush of hope didn’t last long.
“As of now, there are at least five known illegitimate children. The press is making noise, so the Chairman has issued orders to send them abroad. You know the Vice Chairman can’t say a word against the Chairman’s wishes.”
“Not the child — what about me?!”
“This area is scheduled for redevelopment within ten years. It won’t be a bad settlement.”
“Ha……. It’s been over ten years. …I stayed put in this place for over ten years without moving an inch. You know that. He said so. Just hold on a little longer, and then…….”
“And if the Vice Chairman’s position gets shaken because of this, what then?”
The man dropped his formal tone and addressed her with contemptuous contempt. His mother’s face slowly drained to ash as she stared blankly at him.
“More than ten years…, I’m different from the other women, he said… clearly….”
“You’re the third one right now.”
“…….”
“I’m telling you — you’re the third woman like you that I’ve dealt with.”
Devastation settled over his mother. At the man’s words delivering her father’s betrayal, she crumbled — speechless, as if she’d forgotten how to breathe. When her pleading and desperate outbursts finally subsided, the man straightened the suit she’d grabbed and wrinkled, and resumed his formal tone.
“…Have the child ready at the stated date and time.”
“…….”
“I’m saying this just in case — I wouldn’t recommend trying to run off with the child. The Chairman is furious, and he will find you no matter where you go. The Chairman’s orders are that the child must not return to Korea before coming of age.”
“…….”
“At least do that much. Who knows — he might even give you an extra house.”
The man looked down at his mother slumped on the floor as if she were vermin, then turned and walked away. His mother sat there for a long time, unable to move, staring vacantly at nothing. Yoo Sinju stayed hidden, watching her the whole time. Anxiety and dread churned inside him, leaving him restless — and in the meantime, his mother, too weak to even stand, began crawling toward the kitchen. Young as he was, Sinju was seized by a terrible premonition. He followed on instinct — and sure enough, his mother had taken hold of a kitchen knife and was pressing it mindlessly against her own wrist.
“Mom—!”
Yoo Sinju threw himself at her. That word — one he had never once been able to call out freely — came tearing out of him then, loud for the very first time.
“Mom!”
Tears began streaming down Sinju’s face as fear overtook him. His mother, frail beyond measure after not eating for days, swayed even under the force of a child’s grip.
“Let go—!”
With a hysterical scream, his mother swung the hand holding the knife. But Yoo Sinju wrapped his arms around hers and refused to let go.
“N-no…. Don’t….”
Yoo Sinju had grown up accustomed to coldness and darkness, so tears didn’t come easily to him. He’d been hit since he was little, and the pain had dulled to the point where even when he was hurt, he rarely cried. But now the tears fell like a faucet had been turned on — ceaselessly, without pause.
Why did this hurt so much. This person who had never once held him close. This person who had never once been gentle with him. Caught in grief he couldn’t contain, he sobbed and sobbed and held her back. Even when the knife cut his face and left a wound. Even when her violence left his body bruised. Yoo Sinju didn’t yield. Not until she collapsed from exhaustion and the force of her own despair. He held on for hours, fighting with everything he had.
“Don’t…. Don’t do it, Mom….”
For days after that, he couldn’t leave the house. Afraid of what she might do again, he cleared out every knife in the place. He put away anything that seemed dangerous, hiding even the box cutter from the stationery drawer. He stood vigil outside her bedroom door through the night, keeping watch — and only after several days passed was he finally able to step outside.
He missed that person. No — he wanted to cling to that person desperately. Because he knew the man would be coming back in two days.
Please — save me.
