TWELVE 61

The vow to serve, Seo (誓). The blade of a knife, In (刃). A blade that makes a vow.

A blade vowing devotion to Cheongcheon.

‘Seoin’ was a name established by my grandfather and led by my father; it signified a tool to be used however the company saw fit. It was my name, the reason I was born, and the mission I was never to forget as long as I lived.

Where else would the blood of a grandfather who gave his grandson such a name go? My father was also a cold-blooded man who felt no moral conflict in using his own child as a tool. My mother, who had pledged to grow old together with such a human being, was of the same kind.

My grandfather grew ‘Cheongcheon Law Firm’ into the top law firm in South Korea, and my father and mother married with the goals of greater power, shining honor, and heavy pockets. Having castrated both affection and lust, there could only be one thing they desired from their child: to cultivate the world they had built into something even more grand.

Commonly speaking, while one might feel an attachment to a tool, one does not pour emotions like love—including paternal or maternal love—into it. Therefore, I grew up without knowing love.

The person who pressed a baby bottle to my lips was a nanny hired with money. The person who taught me the Korean alphabet was a teacher working for pay. The person who prepared my meals was the kitchen manager, and the person who accompanied me on my first day of preschool was the driver. Just like my parents, to them, ‘Seoin’ was nothing more than a means to an end.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that my upbringing was not typical.

It was a day when the kindergarten held something like a parent observation class, when I was about five or six years old. I was overwhelmed by the strange energy emanating from the other children and parents.

That strange energy was, perhaps, love.

Revealing their attachment to one another without filter, they sparkled in five colors. However, the world I lived in, and I myself, were in black and white.

Because I didn’t realize how miserable that was, I didn’t know I was sad. I did, however, feel a pain as if soil that had frozen crisp throughout the winter was being poured over my skin. It was solitude. I only came to understand what kind of emotion that was after I had grown older.

“Mom.”

After the observation class, I tried pronouncing the word that had been lingering in my mouth the whole time. Until then, during my short life, I had called my parents ‘Mother’ and ‘Father’.

My mother looked as if she had heard a vulgarity.

“What did you just say?”

“I said ‘Mom’.”

“The reason for calling me that is?”

I couldn’t honestly answer, ‘Because I saw my friends calling their mothers that.’

My parents were people for whom a sense of privilege was practically a creed, and they considered it tacky to follow what others did. They also constantly emphasized that to live as first-class, one must lead so that others follow, and that one must become a special existence.

“…… Just because.”

“Just because?”

My mother smiled while furrowing her brow. The smile was clearly a sneer.

“You called me something so creepy for no reason at all? Don’t ever do it again.”

How many humans would scold a child they carried in their womb and gave birth to for calling them ‘Mom’? It might not be called ‘special’, but it could at least be seen as ‘peculiar’.

Then what about my father?

I didn’t even imagine calling my father ‘Dad’. I can say for certain that a slap would have flown instantly. If not that, then whatever object my father was holding at that moment would have come flying.

Outside, the righteous and benevolent representative lawyer of Cheongcheon. Inside the house, a tyrant. That was my father.

My father believed that a politics of fear, violence, and a few carrots made loyal subjects. He said he was raised that way as well. The Gi family’s method of education was synonymous with the way one creates a monster.

Do not cry. Ignore your emotions. Put reason first. Reflect on your roots, and willingly trample the insects that encroach upon your place.

In the end, even justice is a means. A lawyer is not a person who speaks for the client, but a person who silences the opposing side. The one who wins is the one who is truthful. The logic of the courtroom is the logic of the world.

It was no exaggeration to say that the common sense I heard and learned outside and the logic my father spouted were at opposite poles. When I asked him about this, my father said:

“It’s just sophisticated nonsense made up to tame the slave bastards. No matter what they say outside, you only need to engrave my words.”

I promised to do so as a matter of course. Since even a question was considered rebellion to my father, absolute compliance was the only thing I could do.

Though I was that obedient, I couldn’t satisfy my father’s expectations.

When I was young, I was on the slower side of development compared to the average for my age. It wasn’t that I was noticeably lagging behind, but it was more than enough to incense parents who insisted on the best.

Thinking about it now, since I grew up with virtually no interaction with the parents I should have been closest to, developmental immaturity was a natural result. Of course, neither my father nor my mother thought for a moment that it was their fault. My immaturity was solely my own fault.

After undergoing a developmental screening at the suggestion of the kindergarten teacher, my parents withdrew me from the kindergarten and gathered instructors who were famous in the field of child development.

That meant that the number of people who knew the secret that the bloodline of Gi Yongsoo and Kang Suyeon was slow-witted was increasing.

Since I had dared to scratch the pride of those two great people, I had to be punished accordingly.

“I wonder if that thing really came out of my womb. Only the shell resembles me; the inside is completely wrong. Where on earth did you come from?”

My mother despised me.

“…….”

My father ignored me completely, then…

“Gi Seoin. Come out.”

Occasionally, on days when he couldn’t overcome that fiery temper or when he was drunk, he would call me into his study. My father’s study was a torture chamber to me.

At first, I thought I hoped I wouldn’t be hit. After that, I hoped to be hit less, and after that, I prayed that my father would only hit me with his hands.

After more time passed, I just yearned for this time to end quickly, or at the very least for me to faint—or rather, I came to wish that I would just die.

Even at an age when the concept of death was vague, I came to believe that the only way for me to escape this hell was to close my eyes forever.

So, from a certain point on, I didn’t beg for my life while being hit by my father. When I woke up after fainting, I lamented the reality that I was still breathing. Eventually, I even feared the scars on my body fading. Because the fact that I had to continue this life was horrific.

Though the wounds of the flesh might heal, my spirit was festering and rotting away.

“I canceled the lessons after 6:00 today. Your grandfather and grandmother are coming. Stay in your room and change your clothes after your last private tutoring is over. Do it properly, and don’t embarrass me again. Do you understand?”

“…….”

“I asked if you understood.”

“…….”

“Gi Seoin.”

“…….”

“Gi Seoin!”

“…….”

One day, my voice would not come out.

My parents thought I was staying silent on purpose to rebel. Unable to take it anymore, my father kicked my stomach and pinched my thighs. However, I couldn’t even let out a groan until the very end. Only then did my parents realize that I was ‘broken’.

Taken to the hospital, I was diagnosed with childhood depression and selective mutism.

“Because he is a child who is as sensitive as he is bright…”

My mother pleaded with the doctor while sobbing.

“Professor, you are the best in this field. Please help our Seoin get better as quickly as possible. I beg of you.”

Who would have known? That she was so desperate not because of her child, but because she was worried about her own reputation.

Upon returning home, I gained other names.

“Defective product.”

If not that…

“Lacking bastard.”

It was that sort of thing.

“What do you mean, depression and mutism? Did you lose your country, or did you lose your parents? We have everything and say we’ll give it all to you, yet you can’t even eat what’s given. Why, just why! Why do you make things so difficult?”

By this point, I was curious too. Why on earth am I like this? Why was I born so lacking? No, why was I born in the first place? There might have been another child who suited this house…

Just because I couldn’t make a sound didn’t mean I couldn’t cry.

Tears fell at all hours. My eyes would often suddenly grow wet before I could even realize if I was sad or in pain. Since even I thought of myself as beyond saving, how must it have been for others?

Gradually, I learned the way to endure crying. Until I grew anxious that the tears I couldn’t let flow would pile up and pile up in my chest, drowning my heart. I hid my inner feelings by hardening my expression and adjusting my lips.

And then, the dam burst.

It was a trivial trigger.

It was the day of the school sports meet, one of the things my parents called ‘useless nonsense’. I once again felt the emotion I had felt years ago during the parent observation class in kindergarten.

That day, I decided it would be better to be completely alone. That way, I wouldn’t have to be discouraged by the fact that only I was alone.

I ran out of the school blindly. Since I couldn’t go home, I wandered the neighborhood without a destination. After wandering and wandering, my legs ached and I slumped down. In that moment, my heart collapsed as well. I finally burst into tears.

“Uh-oh?”

While crying with my face buried in my knees, I heard a person’s voice and tried to stop crying by scowling.

“Hey, kid.”

Tears were still falling, but that boy spoke to me without any tact. I lifted my head first to try and leave the spot.

That was the first time I made eye contact with Woo Seungkyung.

“Are you crying?”

I wanted to answer no, but my throat only spat out air.

“What’s your name?”

I only looked at the boy while mouthing words silently.

At that time, Woo Seungkyung was quite tall compared to me. However, he was scrawny and tanned, so he didn’t look like much. Even so, his face was impressive. His brown eyes, which sparkled while absorbing the sunlight, were particularly intense.

The boy, who put down a stack of papers he had tucked under his arm onto the asphalt ground, reached a palm toward me after wiping it on his T-shirt.

“I’m Seungkyung, Woo Seungkyung.”

That grimy and small hand was the very first hand anyone had ever extended to me.