Haneul stepped in close again and swatted away the hand reaching to stroke his cheek, then said curtly.
“No — you, Yun Haneul.”
“…….”
Haneul avoided the owner’s sharp gaze and stood the mop upright in front of himself.
“Just because everyone says you’re pretty, you think you can do whatever you want?”
“Yes.”
“You—!”
“I have dishes to wash in the kitchen, so I’ll be heading there now.”
“Hey, hey!”
The owner grabbed Haneul’s shoulder tightly as he tried to walk right past him toward the kitchen.
“You’ve been pushing it and pushing it, haven’t you?”
“Pushing it and pushing it, so what?”
“Hey!”
“Sir, what you’re doing right now is clear-cut sexual harassment. And on top of that, you have a family — you really shouldn’t be doing this.”
The other people inside the pub averted their eyes, pretending not to notice what was happening. Haneul found the whole absurd situation even more infuriating. Meanwhile, the owner’s hands trembled violently as he turned things around and shouted even louder.
“Hey, hey — you’re fired!”
“Same goes for me. Even if you got down on your knees and begged, I wouldn’t work in a dump like this ever again.”
Haneul threw his apron on the floor and walked out of the pub.
After leaving the pub, Haneul walked and walked, going nowhere in particular. The Seoul night skyline, seen from a distance, sparkled like stars and was beautiful — but up close, the city’s neon signs were gaudy enough to hurt the eyes and loud enough to make his head spin.
His feet, led by some unconscious instinct, followed the places with soft light and many trees. By the time all his strength had drained away and his legs were trembling, Haneul stopped walking and looked around.
“Ah…… this place.”
It was his old home — with its low stone wall that barely reached an adult Haneul’s waist, and the cherry tree that bloomed fully every spring.
“Mom…… Dad.”
Happy, bittersweet memories of time spent with his family flickered through his mind like a black-and-white film, one after another. In that moment, every last bit of strength left his body, and Haneul sank down heavily in front of the sky-blue gate. He sat with both fists clenched tight, holding his breath for a moment. He was clearly fighting desperately against the tears threatening to spill over.
“Right. I can’t give up.”
It must have been around the time Haneul’s eyes could just barely see over the wall. Standing on a flat stone, Haneul and his little sister would wait every day for their father to come home from work on the other side of the wall. Their mother, setting dinner in the kitchen inside the house, would often catch the children’s eyes through the yard and smile at them.
“I will save Garam, no matter what.”
Looking at the old home where so many precious memories lived, Haneul felt even more certain he couldn’t give up on his sister. Just as he was steeling himself to find a way — any way — to save her, the phone in his pocket buzzed with unusual urgency.
It was nearly midnight. It could only be bad news. And it was a call from the hospital where Garam was admitted. Haneul pressed the answer button with trembling hands.
“Hello.”
— Hello? You’re the guardian of patient Yun Garam, correct?
“Yes — has something happened to my Garam?”
— Patient Yun Garam’s condition has gotten much worse. You need to come quickly.
From that moment, Haneul ran in a blind panic. After weaving through several narrow alleyways, he finally hit a main road and ran straight out to flag down a taxi. Fortunately, one stopped, and he was able to reach the hospital quickly.
“I got a call about Garam — about my Garam’s condition, and I came right away.”
Leaning against the nurses’ station, Haneul caught his breath — which had risen all the way to his chin — and spoke urgently to the nurse. The nurse inside quickly rose from her seat and asked him:
“You’re the guardian of patient Yun Garam, correct?”
“Yes, that’s right. How is my Garam doing?”
Haneul’s words came out faster from the anxiety pressing down on him. The nurse waited a moment to let him catch his ragged breath. Once his shaking eyes and heaving shoulders had settled, she spoke carefully.
“She stabilized a little while ago, and she’s sleeping now.”
“Is there any chance I could see my Garam?”
“She made it through a dangerous moment, so she needs complete rest right now. Come back tomorrow when patient Yun Garam wakes up.”
“……Yes, I understand.”
Haneul answered a beat late, as though the words that she’d made it through the worst of it had finally let him breathe.
“Um…… Professor Kim, who treated patient Yun Garam a little while ago, asked to see the guardian when they arrived.”
“Oh, really?”
Haneul followed the nurse to the attending physician’s office. The moment they arrived at the door, the nurse knocked — knock knock — without giving Haneul even a moment to collect himself.
“Come in.”
“Hello. Thank you for taking such good care of our Garam at this late hour.”
“It seems you came right after you got the call.”
“Yes.”
Haneul couldn’t bring himself to look Professor Kim in the eye properly — he felt like a criminal because of the hospital bills that had gone unpaid for months. A brief silence fell between the two of them, and as usual, it was the attending physician who spoke first.
“As I’m sure you’re well aware, Garam is currently suffering from severely compromised bone marrow function due to acute leukemia.”
“…….”
Even though Haneul already knew Garam’s condition, he felt resentful of himself for failing to secure the funds for surgery. Weighed down by guilt toward his sister, he slowly lowered his head.
“However, fortunately, a hematopoietic stem cell donor with matching tissue compatibility has been found for Garam.”
“A donor has really appeared? Does that mean surgery can happen right away?”
“Yes. If the bone marrow transplant is delayed any further, complications such as sepsis or organ failure may develop.”
“Then when can the transplant take place?”
“The best course of action is to proceed with the transplant as soon as possible — within a few days at the longest.”
Within a few days, Haneul had to come up with an enormous sum for the surgery. It felt as though his mouth was burning dry.
“Last time, we used my marrow for the transplant. If there’s a rejection reaction like there was then, what do we do?”
“I understand your concern well. There is a possibility of graft-versus-host disease occurring as it did before, and long-term use of immunosuppressants may be necessary. However, in her current state, the chances of survival without a transplant are extremely low.”
“……Yes, I understand.”
“I’ll say it again — time is the most critical factor.”
Haneul left Professor Kim’s office and sat on a bench in front of the hospital, staring at the empty air for a long while. Before he knew it, the thick darkness had begun to lift, a bluish hue spreading across the world as everything around him slowly reclaimed its color. He rose from his seat with a look of grim resolve and murmured in a low voice.
“Either way, it’s all the same.”
Perhaps Haneul had already made up his mind somewhere deep inside. His eyes grew wet with tears — but in the end, he didn’t let a single one fall.
Signing up for Blue Cuckoo, or having some pervert latch onto me — what’s the difference, really?
Instead of crying, he clenched both fists hard and moved forward, as though he had decided something.
As he trudged home, the streets had already filled with people heading to work. And after a long, long moment of hesitation, Haneul picked up his phone and called somewhere.
— Yes, this is Blue Labor Agency.
“I……”
— Go ahead.
“I’d like to apply to be a surrogate.”
— I see. May I have your name and age?
