INFB Ch 8

If anyone else had seen it, they might have said at least they didn’t touch the child, they spared him, but Seobin knew. That his existence did not exert any influence whatsoever on whether they lived or died. That they never thought at all about how he, left all alone after they died, would go on living.

Seobin was already an orphan before they died.

His mother continued to consume time endlessly as an open-eyed corpse, and in the meantime, his father’s funeral was held. The chief mourner was Seobin.

Many guests came to the funeral. It was a larger crowd than expected.

Those who came were mostly people Seobin did not know. Since Seobin had been thoroughly excluded from his father’s and mother’s daily lives.

They cried in front of his father’s funeral portrait, held Seobin’s hand and asked after his mother’s well-being, and told him to stay strong and call if there was anything they could help with. Of course, not a single person among them shared their phone number.

And without eating a single bowl of yukgaejang, everyone left with light faces. It was an expression imbued with pride in themselves—that even in a ruined household, they had come and offered condolences in a proper manner.

The funeral was noisy. It was because of the loan sharks who swarmed in. Everyone cried more fiercely than anyone else in front of his father’s portrait.

“What about my money!”

“Fuck, dying like this is all it takes!”

Everyone shouted at the top of their lungs, and though Seobin had done nothing wrong, he had to become a sinner and receive punishment. The condolence money left behind by guests was taken competitively by the loan sharks.

Then, when it passed midnight. Around the time the weeping and wailing loan sharks also collapsed anywhere in the corner of the funeral home and fell asleep. Seobin came out of the funeral hall and headed toward a secluded garden. And sitting on a bench where not even the light of a streetlight reached, he made a call to someone.

[Younger Brother]

It was an incomparably familiar word, but a word that had rarely popped up on his cell phone.

Seobin listened to the playful ringtone unique to internet calls for a long time. The call was not easily connected. It was bound to automatically disconnect after passing one minute. When that cycle was repeated about three times. The call was finally connected.

[What.]

“Uh…, Jeongho. Were you asleep?”

[No. What.]

It was a rough voice, but still, it was welcoming. He was so glad to hear it that tears welled up in his eyes.

Seobin continuously inhaled the cold night air to press down his crying.

His younger brother, Cha Jeongho, was a half-brother three years younger. Meaning they shared only the same father. One day when Seobin was a high school student, his father brought him into the house, saying he was his own son. He said he was a son he had made with a bar woman.

His mother was greatly enraged, saying it hurt her pride, but by sending Jeongho to America—by clearing him out from before her eyes—everything was resolved. Jeongho, too, didn’t seem to have any desire to live with his father, as he made no particular fuss.

The only one who felt regret was Seobin.

To have a younger brother, and a male sibling of a similar age at that, yet not be able to stay together. Even though their minds might connect. Even though they might become good family and friends. They were made to part before they could even try anything.

To Seobin, Jeongho was always a presence of regret. Because he was far away, because they couldn’t get close, because he was the only one curious about him and missing him.

Still, when his father’s incident broke out, he thought it was fortunate that he was far away. Because he felt it was something he didn’t need to see or experience.

However, right now he needed him. This time was too heavy for Seobin to bear alone. Even if he was a young younger brother, he wished someone, a person, human warmth could stay by his side.

“Jeongho. There’s only one day left of the funeral now.”

[Ah, shit… Do I really have to go?]

“You should come. It’s father’s funeral, after all.”

[Hyung. Do you know how much money it costs for me to enter Korea and leave?]

“Yeah. But if it’s around 3 million, I’ll somehow— .”

[3 million? Hyung. Are you crazy? You want me to ride economy? How can I ride that chicken coop-like thing!]

“…”

It was an immature answer, but Seobin couldn’t get angry. Because if he misspoke here, it felt as though even Jeongho, his single remaining family member, would leave his side.

While Seobin pondered in his head how much a round-trip business class ticket was, Jeongho hurled his annoyance resoundingly.

[Fuck, I’m already going out of my mind because the house is ruined. Are you really planning to drive me crazy!]

“…Jeongho.”

[Hyung. I have an exam soon. Can’t we talk again after I take the exam? Huh? Please— ?]

“…”

In the end, Seobin couldn’t pester Jeongho to come, to come and stay by his side. Rather than walking on eggshells around Jeongho, damnably, he had no money. Thinking carefully, he didn’t even have the money to put him on economy, let alone business.

It was the moment Seobin realized the fact that he ‘had no money’ for the first time.

Even if his emotions were destitute, he had lived a life with generous pockets. Right now, there was nothing abundant. How fearful and miserable that fact was. Tears welled up poppingly.

Seobin curled his body round and dabbed his tears firmly on his knees. The moonlight, turned grey because of dark rain clouds, cast over his white nape.

Seobin washed his face in the bathroom and returned to the funeral hall. But there were many people in the corridor. It was a dozen or so husky men, all wearing pitch-black suits.

Seobin subtly checked the time. 1:00 AM. It was not a time when mourners would come.

They must not be father’s guests.

Just as he thought that and tried to enter while avoiding the men. For a brief moment, a familiar face flickered past his retina. Seobin snapped his head in that direction. And their eyes met.

With dark grey pupils, just like dark rain clouds.

Jaegyu.

Gil Jaegyu.

It was a face he was seeing for the first time in several years. Whether because it had been a long time or because time had passed, Jaegyu was exuding an atmosphere quite different from what Seobin remembered. It was to the extent that if they had passed each other on the street, he would have passed by without recognizing him.

His height, easily a head taller than him, remained the same, but everything else was different. A softly gleaming black suit. A solid build that felt almost like a giant stone mountain. A squared jawline dripping with masculinity, nicely tanned skin, long and thin eye corners stretched like a fierce beast, and a cool gaze looking down at him. And even the unidentified tattoos revealed near his neck and on the back of his hands despite his body being wrapped up tightly in a suit.

“…”

Seobin froze, unable to even offer a greeting at his heavy presence.

“…”

Jaegyu didn’t pretend to know him either. Scanning Seobin to the point it felt persistent, he merely took off his shoes and stepped into the altar room. Three or four of the men standing behind him stepped in together.

Standing blankly, Seobin belatedly took off his slippers. After that, he straightened his messy chief mourner armband and stood beside his father’s funeral portrait.

Jaegyu burned incense and bowed. The men who came with him stood behind and only bowed.

Seobin was staring blankly at them filling the narrow altar room, at Jaegyu bowing.

It was puzzling that Jaegyu had come here.

And with good reason, as Jaegyu was the son of the lady who had worked as a housekeeper at Seobin’s house until a few years ago. The lady had lived in a small room beyond the backyard, and back then, Jaegyu used to stop by once every few months to stay for a few days before leaving.

At the time, Jaegyu was in his late twenties, an age neither that young nor that old.

Though they weren’t close, the housekeeper lady often talked about him to Seobin.

That he went out on a boat for a few days to earn money, or went to factories or construction sites where lodging and board were provided. That her heart ached because the work was hard, but she felt sad as a mother that there was nothing she could do for him. However, she repeatedly let out sighs, saying it couldn’t be helped because they had a lot of debt.

Then that winter. The year Jaegyu was twenty-eight and Seobin was eighteen. The lady passed away from a myocardial infarction before anything could be done.

It was the first time seeing Jaegyu since then. Roughly counting, it could be said to be 3 years.

In any case, Jaegyu was not in a relationship where he couldn’t come to his father’s funeral, but he wasn’t in a relationship close enough to come, either.

So Seobin couldn’t smile in welcome looking at him, nor could he cry in sadness. As he was looking at him with a muggy face that was neither this nor that, Jaegyu bowed skillfully and paid his respects. He looked very accustomed to the event of a funeral.