A Coward’s Excuse
His mother, who had appeared without warning, vanished just as suddenly the next day. His father, perhaps with no tears left to shed, sat vacantly on the sofa like a man whose soul had departed.
To Hyungoh, the previous night felt like a dream. Even looking at the hedgehog’s grave buried in the yard, he couldn’t quite believe it.
Suddenly, Hyungoh touched his forehead. Then he brought his hand to his nose. A fishy smell. Hyungoh’s eyes wavered. The events of yesterday seemed to become clearer.
Days passed, and his mother didn’t return. Both Hyungoh and his father had anticipated this outcome. His father still leaned on Hyungoh, and Hyungoh was gradually adapting to his role as a reliable pillar of support.
He tried his best to avoid thinking about or dwelling on his mother. Her words, “You’re just like me,” had been particularly irritating.
I’m different from my selfish mother.
There’s no way I could be like her. Hyungoh habitually denied it. That was the only way he could find some peace of mind.
As a high school student, Hyungoh had quite a few friends. Unlike at home, where he had to be a caring son for his emotionally unstable father, at school Hyungoh was rather prickly. Some kids found him difficult to approach, but there was a group that appreciated his unaffected personality.
Hyungoh maintained close relationships with them. Like any ordinary students, they would go to internet cafés to play games after school, or help each other study during exam periods.
One day, a friend’s gaming account was hacked, putting their personal information at risk of exposure. Hyungoh resolved the issue. Since childhood, at his father’s recommendation, Hyungoh had taken various kinds of extracurricular lessons, including programming classes—likely influenced by his father’s background in computer engineering.
Perhaps because it was related to his father, Hyungoh studied programming more diligently than his other subjects. As he progressed, he found it suited him well. After programming, he focused intensively on networks and servers, and later dabbled in security.
Still, this was his first real-world application, so he worried whether he could actually pull it off, but fortunately, the result was successful. His grateful friend invited Hyungoh and the others to his house for a drinking party.
His first experience with alcohol didn’t make for a particularly good memory. His stomach felt nauseated, and his head was dizzy. When he finally made it home and happily embraced his father, he found his father’s expression displeased.
His father viewed drinkers with contempt. He believed that seeking solace in alcohol when times were tough or sad only amplified those emotions twofold and revealed one’s ugliest side.
Don’t do this.
His father admonished the intoxicated Hyungoh sternly. You shouldn’t be like this. You may not be perfect, but you can’t be disheveled like this.
You need to remain beautiful for me.
Confronted with his father’s desperate appearance, Hyungoh sobered up instantly. Beautiful? What kind of beauty was his father talking about? Hyungoh was confused.
His father disliked Hyungoh socializing with friends altogether. Those kids aren’t good. They aren’t pure. He whispered to Hyungoh every night like he was brainwashing him. Don’t let them taint you, ever.
It was then that Hyungoh sensed something going wrong. His father’s affection was beginning to distort.
The college entrance exam was approaching. Though he had no particular desire to attend university, he devoted himself to studying, fearing that otherwise he’d remain tethered to his father for life without any plans.
While he was studying, even his father wouldn’t disturb him. The exact reason was unclear. It was just conjecture, but perhaps it was a habit ingrained in his father from childhood, coming from generations of educators. His paternal grandfather, whom he’d met just once, had been a man obsessed with knowledge and honor, so there was no need to explain how oppressively his father must have been raised.
Because of this, Hyungoh could have time to himself, at least when studying. However, as time passed, his father began to encroach even upon these moments.
One day, his father approached Hyungoh while he was studying and unexpectedly handed him his mother’s clothes. Hyungoh was bewildered. Seeing his father’s moist eyes, he headed to his study with a sense of foreboding. A crumpled, faded photograph of his mother lay on the floor.
Hyungoh had tried his best to protect his father. He had blocked all possible sources of news about his mother—television, internet, newspapers, magazines. Because on days when his father found traces of her, he suffered to the brink of death.
He had definitely discarded all items related to his mother before. Tense at the possibility of his father having an outburst, Hyungoh was somewhat perplexed by his unexpectedly calm response.
Put it on.
His father said, as if issuing a command. Standing dumbfounded, Hyungoh calmly repeated his words. Put it on? What? Somehow his mother’s clothes were already in Hyungoh’s hands.
Beyond surprise, he was dumbfounded. Hyungoh let out a bitter laugh, but when he met his father’s bloodshot eyes, he belatedly realized the gravity of the situation.
He was serious. His longing for his mother had turned pitch black long ago. Overwhelmed by the somber atmosphere, Hyungoh obediently changed his clothes. The unwashed, musty clothes seemed to faintly carry his mother’s scent.
Ah, my… my…
His father embraced Hyungoh with a satisfied smile. Seeing his father finally crying, Hyungoh swallowed dryly.
From then on, his father made Hyungoh wear his mother’s clothes at every opportunity. Despite wanting to refuse numerous times, Hyungoh always weakened when he met his father’s gaze.
Poor father.
Yes, he was pitiful. His father was a pitiful human being. Ironically, this thought comforted Hyungoh. The reason I’m doing this is because I feel sorry for my father. Because I want him to be happy, since he loves me.
That’s how Hyungoh endured each day. He ignored all the negative emotions that had been building up, unaware that they were festering and creating deep crevices.
* * *
He failed the college entrance exam. There was no way he could have done well.
He grew distant from his friends, too. Perhaps that was inevitable.
Only three things remained around him. One was his laptop, which he had barely managed to keep. He hid it between his bed and the wall, using it when his father was asleep.
The second was his mother’s worn-out clothes. They no longer carried her scent. Instead, they were filled with a nauseating, utterly repulsive smell. His father’s smell, and Hyungoh’s own.
The third was, naturally, his father. After all, he was the one who had isolated Hyungoh.
Hyungoh wondered if he had caught his father’s disease. It was a disease that drove people mad. It became increasingly difficult to maintain his sanity.
Days repeated like a hamster wheel. And then, that incident occurred without warning amid those monotonously flowing days. As always, his mother had returned.
That dawn, as usual, Hyungoh had barely put his father to sleep and was heading to his mother’s room to change clothes. Strangely, his mind felt foggy that day. Hoping that cold water might help, he changed direction and entered the bathroom.
Facing the mirror, Hyungoh felt his heart sink. He looked wretched. His appearance was as lifeless as someone bitten by a zombie. What is this? Hyungoh stroked his haggard face. What is this? The corner of his eye twitched.
A loosely hanging bra, a t-shirt exposing one shoulder, and a purple skirt that came down to his knees. Hyungoh stepped backward.
His entire body burned with shame. Though he had been wearing these clothes just fine until now, once he became aware of reality, it was unbearable. I’ve been wearing clothes like this all along.
Like a madman.
Hyungoh urgently covered his mouth as his stomach twisted. Disgusting. This isn’t me. He fled from the bathroom.
He pulled at his t-shirt as if to tear it with both hands. He wanted to take it off. It was clothing he never wanted to wear in the first place.
He flung open the door to his mother’s room as if to break it. Gasping for breath, he soon collapsed. The loud pounding of his heart echoed in his head.
How long do I have to live like this?
Hyungoh stared blankly at his legs visible through the skirt. Even looking again, his attire was ridiculous. He couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. Just how long?
At that moment, he sensed someone else’s presence in the room that should have been empty. Hyungoh looked up. On the bed with no blankets or bedding… Hyungoh squinted his eyes. He thought he must have seen wrong. But no matter how much he looked, nothing changed.
There, his mother was leisurely lying down, reading a book.
