Unlike me, hyung was always smiling. He had a slight build, and whenever he spoke, he’d look down at the ground. Classmates and even younger children picked on him for it. When he was little, Heesin had been ashamed of him. He’d climbed over the school wall and run off more than once just to avoid hyung waiting for him at the gate after school.
Every time that happened, their mother would say until the words lost all meaning — when your parents are gone, you’ll only have each other, so you have to lean on one another. But he’d been too young to understand it then. As the years went on, things got harder, and their father’s violence was aimed mostly at hyung, who had always been the weaker one.
He’d felt sorry for him — but the relief that it wasn’t him had been just as strong. As time passed, hyung spent more and more days locked in his room, and after barely scraping together a diploma, he went to work at a factory. But even there he struggled to fit in, and about a month in, he lost two fingers in an accident.
Where the compensation money went, no one knew. After the incident, hyung disappeared completely into his small, cramped room. He’ll come out eventually. He’ll be okay. But nothing got better.
Heesin looked at his hyung’s portrait photo with a hollow expression.
In the photo, hyung was wearing his school uniform, smiling awkwardly.
You bastard… you should’ve held on. You think anyone lives because they want to? Even when it’s hard, you have to hold on.
His eyes burned and he dropped his head. To his right, his mother sat nearly hollowed out from crying herself dry. To his left, his youngest sibling Minhye was crying without stop.
“Sister-in-law. There aren’t even any guests right now — don’t just sit here, go eat something.”
A man from the dining area came over and spoke to her. He was an old friend of their father’s — friend was a generous word, really, for someone who’d gone along with him in every kind of bad business there was. The man helped Heesin’s mother to her feet, his hand settling naturally around her shoulders.
“You’ll collapse at this rate. The living have to keep living.”
Heesin’s gaze followed the two of them, then moved to Minhye.
“You go eat too. I’ll stay here.”
Only then did Minhye lift her head. Her eyes were swollen and raw from how much she’d cried.
“If I’d checked on him before I left for the academy… if I’d just looked in on him… if I had, if I had just checked…”
Young Minhye seemed intent on blaming herself. He told her not to — it’s not your fault — and rubbed her back, and the tears she’d been holding back broke loose. Minhye buried her face in her black skirt and sobbed, wrenching and desolate. After a long while of comforting his little sister, he stepped outside — and it was raining.
He tugged his necktie loose to breathe, and made his way to a nearby convenience store.
“One pack of cigarettes, please.”
He found an empty bench and put one to his lips. One drag and his head spun. That too would become familiar in time. He didn’t know how many he’d smoked sitting there. The rain grew heavier, and his heart felt like it had been shoved face-first into the mud. As the butts piled up in the trash can, his phone buzzed.
— Oppa, did something happen? Why aren’t you answering?
He typed my hyung died, I’ve come back to my hometown — and deleted it without a second thought. What’s good about telling her. He made up a story about being away on a work trip and said he’d be in touch tomorrow morning. Maybe Yun Sena already knew all of this — she might have heard it through her channels. While that thought was turning in his mind, a message came in from an unexpected source.
— What are you up to?
He didn’t reply, and the next message followed.
— Want to meet for a bit after work?
He almost ignored it, but sent a short reply instead. I’m on a work trip in Gangwon-do. He switched his phone to silent and went back inside the funeral hall. By then his mourning clothes had gotten damp from the rain. From here and there came the sounds of people talking, of grief breaking through in sobs. He reached the room at the far end, took off his shoes, and settled in at the altar space.
Time drifted on without end, and after 2 in the morning the surroundings went quiet. He ushered Minhye, who had been leaning exhausted against the wall, inside to rest, then woke his mother, who had drunk herself to sleep slumped in a corner. She had once despised their father for his drinking — and had somewhere along the way become someone who drank just as much.
“Get up. Go inside and sleep.”
His mother looked up at Kang Heesin’s face and, eyes unfocused, laughed through her tears.
“Our Jinseong must have gone somewhere good, right?”
Heesin didn’t answer. He’d never believed such a place existed to begin with.
“Go to your room and get some rest.”
“My poor eldest boy… my poor, poor boy…”
She went on lamenting, then took Heesin’s face in both hands. Her tear-filled face crumpled. He couldn’t tell if she was trying to smile or holding back more crying.
“Still — I’m glad. I’m glad I have you.”
I’m glad it’s not you. Why did it sound that way to him? He clenched his back teeth and pressed down on what was rising up inside. He walked his mother to her room, tucked a blanket over her, and came back out. The people who’d been tending to the food had gone home, and the only one left was Kim Musiк, his father’s closest friend.
He too had fallen asleep on his side in a corner, snoring away. Heesin let out a breath, pulled a bottle of soju from the fridge, and carried it over to the altar room. He sat down against the wall and cracked it open.
No cup, no food — he drank straight from the bottle. By the time it was nearly empty, the feelings he’d been pressing down finally gave way. Alone in the altar room, eyes red and stinging, he glared up at his eldest hyung’s portrait.
“You bastard… hold on… just a little longer…”
Stupid son of a bitch… what was so urgent that you had to go first…
I’m still living… why did you…
His throat closed up and he squeezed both eyes shut. He knocked the back of his head against the wall, again and again. He cursed, then begged forgiveness, then cursed again — until he was so worn out he drifted off where he sat.
He felt a presence in his sleep and opened his eyes. A man in a black suit was bowing before the altar.
He snapped awake and got to his feet. The moment the man raised his head from the bow, Heesin wondered if he was still dreaming. He’d nearly pinched his own cheek to check. The man turned to face him. Without his usual flamboyant clothing — dressed simply and neatly in a black suit — he looked unfamiliar.
Outside the altar room, the man who followed him like a shadow was standing guard.
“I offer my condolences.”
He should have thanked him for coming all this way — but the shock had stolen his words. Im Gyeong went straight to the dining area. Heesin watched him take a seat with his secretary, then went and filled a few plates with food and brought them out.
An unexpected guest, but he’d come all this way — Heesin couldn’t very well throw him out and demand to know why he was here.
He set the food down, and Im Gyeong stared at the yukgaejang. Without asking anything further, he picked up his spoon.
Heesin returned to his place at the altar and kept watch. Im Gyeong’s back was fully in view from there. He exchanged a few words with the secretary seated across from him, then gave a nod. Probably asking about the yukgaejang, Heesin guessed. And then, without any hesitation, Im Gyeong ate it. It was a strange thing to witness.
Not so long ago, Im Gyeong had been a complete stranger — and yet here he was, at his family’s funeral, eating yukgaejang. Who could have imagined that. Sleep had left him entirely; he sat there watching quietly, until Im Gyeong finished his meal and rose from his seat.
Is he leaving?
Heesin had meant to follow and properly thank him. He’d been too stunned before, he’d say. And thank him for coming all this way. Instead of demanding to know how he’d found out, he felt now that the right thing was simply gratitude. But Im Gyeong didn’t leave — instead, he settled against the wall on one side of the dining area.
Suddenly they were sitting facing each other.
“…What is he trying to do…”
He looked around — Im Gyeong’s secretary was nowhere to be seen. Should I go ask? While that thought was crossing his mind, a relative arrived. A distant one he barely remembered, a face he hadn’t seen in years. He stepped outside the altar room to exchange a few words, and when he came back, Im Gyeong was seated with his eyes closed.
…Is he actually sleeping?
Then, a moment later, he opened his eyes and looked quietly over at Heesin.
Until just a little while ago, grief had been boiling over in him — and now all he could think about was what this man was thinking.
He didn’t have the energy to go over and ask, so he simply let the time pass. He wasn’t sure how long it had been. He dozed off for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, Im Gyeong was gone. Only the empty bowl he’d eaten from remained. The surroundings were still quiet — only the murmur of voices from a few of the other rooms drifting through.
5 in the morning. Still time before sunrise. He must be on his way back by now. Almost without thinking, he took out his phone. His fingers hovered over the keypad for a long while, but no right words came to him. He thought of things like thank you for coming or let’s see each other when you’re back up — and then quietly set the phone back down.
