NANOM Ch 17

If I were to speak about the life I’ve lived, which hasn’t been all that long, it was mostly dull.

When the weather starts getting cloudy, sometimes fragmented memories come to mind. The owner of the voice that vividly comes alive with the gray of the overcast sky was Woo Jiwon.

Woo Jiwon had been frail since childhood. Born with a weak heart, he underwent heart surgery around the age of six. They said he’d need several more as he grew older. Because of this, his mother doted on him excessively, hanging on his every word.

In contrast, I was exceptionally tall and strong for my age. My father was always away on business trips, and my mother fawned over Woo Jiwon. Whatever Woo Jiwon wanted, she made sure he got.

But there was something even Woo Jiwon couldn’t escape.

“I don’t want to go swimming… I hate water.”

Woo Jiwon muttered gloomily, kicking at a pebble with his toe. We were sitting in the garden, playing chess. Our young, powerless days seemed endless, and we had to pass the time somehow.

In an hour, Woo Jiwon would have to go swimming as per his mother’s orders. It was because of the doctor’s advice to build stamina through light swimming. His mother blindly trusted the doctor’s words, and no matter how much Woo Jiwon protested, she insisted he follow the doctor’s orders without question.

The television was blaring news about preparing for a typhoon. The weather looked like it would rain soon. I was nine years old then, and Woo Jiwon was ten.

“Just say you’re sick.”

That day, Woo Jiwon’s whining voice was particularly grating. At my offhand remark, his eyes lit up.

“Sick?”

“If you’re sick, Mother will listen to anything you say, right?”

At my words, Woo Jiwon nodded.

“But… I don’t like being sick.”

“Just say you’re sick. Or actually get sick.”

I answered carelessly, glaring at the chessboard on the table. As I stared at the remaining pieces, a light bulb went off in my head. Moving a piece, I grinned at Woo Jiwon, who was lost in thought.

“Checkmate.”

But Woo Jiwon sat there like a broken doll, staring blankly. Annoyed by his demeanor, I prodded him with a grumbling voice.

“You lost, idiot.”

“That’s not the issue. Hold on a sec.”

Lost in deep thought, Woo Jiwon made me quickly lose interest in chess. I knocked over all the chess pieces and stuffed them into the board.

Woo Jiwon asked a servant nearby to bring two glasses of juice. The woman, who had been staring blankly into space with a bored expression, nodded and disappeared into the house.

As she walked away, Woo Jiwon suddenly turned to me and spoke.

“Jihyuk, will you help me?”

“With what?”

“You said if I’m sick, it’ll work.”

His calm voice and the unsettling glint in his smiling eyes made them sparkle.

“Make me sick.”

“No way.”

I refused outright, not wanting to get scolded by Mother. Father was still days away from returning from his business trip. There was no one in this house on my side. Mother already disliked me, and every time I did something wrong, she beat me harshly as punishment. I didn’t want to suffer needlessly because of Woo Jiwon.

But Woo Jiwon had a stubborn streak when he got fixated on something. He started pleading with me in a subtle tone.

“I won’t say you did it. Just saying I’m sick doesn’t work anymore because Mother doesn’t believe me. It’s not hard. I’ll climb up there, and you just give me a little push.”

“Are you crazy? You want me to get yelled at by Mother?”

“Please, Jihyuk. I’m scared to do it alone.”

“No. If you’re gonna do it, do it yourself. Don’t drag me into it.”

While we argued, Woo Jiwon eventually climbed onto a low stone wall. Next to the wall, stacked like steps, was a large plum tree. From the top of the steps, Woo Jiwon precariously moved to the tree and gestured for me to come up.

Dumbfounded, I tilted my head and looked up at him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Come up. I’m scared, okay?”

Woo Jiwon looked down at me with a pitiful expression. That crazy bastard. Muttering the curses I often heard from Mother, I started climbing the stone wall. I intended to drag Woo Jiwon down. Getting hurt while playing with him would only put me at a disadvantage. Mother always called me violent and cruel for a kid, pinning me as the culprit.

But the moment I reached the top of the wall and grabbed at Woo Jiwon’s clothes, he jumped down without hesitation.

“Hey! Woo Jiwon!”

“Good heavens, young master!”

The woman, who had been carrying a tray of juice, dropped it and ran toward us. The thick mango juice spilled, staining the green grass with yellow liquid.

📖

“Lift your leg properly.”

“Mother, Mother…”

A thin switch sliced through the air. A stinging pain flared on my calf. It was me getting hit, yet Woo Jiwon’s sobbing beside me was irritating.

I looked up and glared at him with all my might. Then, enunciating each word clearly, I said, “I didn’t do it. He did it himself.”

“You still haven’t learned your lesson!”

Her shrill voice pounded my ears. With a slap, my calf finally split, and red blood splattered in all directions. Holding the bloodstained switch, Mother glared at me as if she’d kill me.

“Say you’re sorry. Now!”

“…”

“Speak. Won’t you?”

But my tightly sealed lips wouldn’t open. The switch came down faster, harder, striking my calf. Finally, it snapped in two. Breathing heavily, Mother threw the broken pieces and screamed in rage.

“You’ll keep your mouth shut till the end! Even while getting hit, this brat doesn’t make a single sound! Disgusting! Look at those eyes. Are those a child’s eyes?”

“Madam, please…”

The woman, who had been fretting beside her, rushed over and grabbed Mother’s arm, pleading. But her hushed pleas weren’t for me.

“The master will be back in a few days. Please… calm down.”

“Look at those eyes! They give me chills. I can’t believe that thing came from my womb! I can’t feel any affection for it! So vicious, it’s no wonder it rooted in my belly like a parasite just two months after Jiwon was born!”

“The scars might be deep… what should we do?”

Mother, unable to control her emotions as an adult, huffed in anger; the woman anxiously watched her; Woo Jiwon, unable to say a word, just shed tears. To me, it all seemed laughable.

Fuck, I won’t let that bastard Woo Jiwon off. Wiping my bleeding calves alternately with my foot, I glared at him.

For days, Mother locked me in an empty room. Knowing she wouldn’t let me out no matter how much I begged, I didn’t plead, cry, or shout. Time crawled by without a TV, computer, or phone. I endlessly read the books on the shelf.

It was during a typhoon. I spent my time staring blankly at the occasional lightning and pouring rain outside. The gray sky endlessly shed water. Each lightning strike cracked the dim sky with white fractures. Watching it was my only, small source of amusement.

The reason I was locked up was because I had shoved Woo Jiwon’s face into a bathtub full of water.

I grabbed the back of his head and dunked him in the water repeatedly, pulling him up each time. His flailing and cries for mercy reminded me of a fish I once caught on a boat with Father.

Grabbing his hair, I dunked him, counted the seconds consciously to avoid killing him, and pulled him out.

You said you hate water. You hate swimming, right? Go ahead and cry and scream in there.

As I muttered to myself, the locked bathroom door opened. Mother, standing behind, covered her mouth with both hands, unable to scream. Her eyes, fixed on me, held nothing but shock and fear.

Father appeared at home sporadically. And he always doted on me. Every time he returned from a business trip, he brought piles of gifts for us. I always liked what Father bought.

Father let me do whatever I wanted. When I complained that horseback riding and golf were boring, he told me to name what I wanted to do. I said I wanted to learn martial arts. When he asked why, I said I needed a chance to relieve stress by hitting and getting hit. Hearing my answer, Father laughed heartily, saying, “Look at this guy,” and brought various martial arts coaches to the house.

When he invited men in suits to the house to drink, Father sometimes sat me in front of them, his face flushed, proudly saying I was his boy. He said I excelled in studies and sports, with lively eyes, a kid destined to be a leader.

Woo Jiwon was always absent from those scenes. Some men occasionally asked about him.

“Mr. Woo, you still need to pass the seat to your eldest son!”

“Jiwon? That kid won’t do. I’d be grateful if he just stays healthy. It’s a pity. He’s smart, though.”

After saying that, Father would always pat my head and smile faintly. Even though I’m the younger son, I’m the right one. So sharp. Look at those aggressive eyes. This kid will outshine his brother someday.

And the next day, Mother would treat me with suffocating coldness.

So I sometimes thought Mother wasn’t really my mother.

“Father, am I an illegitimate child?”

I asked, but Father just laughed, astonished, saying, “Look at this bold kid.” How could I be illegitimate when I was so precious to him? Of course, the scars on my calves were always healed by the time Father came home. Barely.

Thus, the lack of maternal love didn’t feel like a loss to me. The love I received from one side was absolutely lacking, but the love poured from the other was blindly abundant. The scales were completely unbalanced, but the total amount I had wasn’t small. In fact, I had more than most. I never felt anything was lacking in my life.

As the generally tedious childhood years slowly passed, I became a middle schooler.

Unlike the mind-numbingly boring elementary school, middle school was actually fun. Without much effort, kids looked at me with admiration. Girls stole glances, throwing heated looks that revealed their thoughts, while boys built their own hierarchy and wanted me at the top.

They were just middle schoolers, but in the endlessly dull routine, their desires were all the same. The vicarious satisfaction of watching someone wield overwhelming power. The sense of superiority and security from being associated with the strong.

I already knew there was no need to meet their foolish expectations. Striving to fulfill others’ expectations meant I had deficiencies to fill. I had nothing to gain from kids my age anymore. What they flaunted shallowly—money, physique, looks, or the followers that naturally came with them—I already had. But I willingly agreed to their eager desires. When the mood called for a fight with clueless idiots, I swung my fists easily and eagerly.

It wasn’t about defending my place with petty fights. It was just a release for pent-up frustrations. The school I attended was filled with children from prominent families, and competing with similarly raised kids was pointlessly dull. I’d been hit a few times in classroom brawls with chairs flying, but I never lost once.

When fights escalated, they reached the parents. But Father was always lenient about my fights, subtly pleased when I said I won. I’d always known instinctively that Father hated losing. He only told me to fight if I wanted but to study hard too.

Then, when I had just become a high schooler, I witnessed a scene on the school field that pissed me off.

It was a rare day without tutoring. After playing basketball with some kids, it was almost nine o’clock. A few cars waited on the field, and the sweaty kids climbed into them one by one and left.

I was the only one heading to the back gate. I planned to buy a pack of cigarettes and go home. I also felt like walking for once.

Near the back gate was a small park-like area with a forest path vibe, unlike the neat, open front gate. Because of its secluded feel, the gazebo there was often occupied by kids smoking. Complaints were occasionally filed, but people were less interested in students’ misbehavior than one might think, especially at night when the sun had fully set.

As I passed by without much thought, a strange chill made me stop. My body, standing near the back gate, was naturally hidden by a massive stone pillar. From here, I could clearly see inside the gazebo, but the two shadows inside had their backs to me.

And the next moment, the voice that reached my ears was enough to shock me.

“I… like you.”

It was unmistakably Woo Jiwon’s. His thin, trembling voice.

My brows furrowed instinctively. But before I could make a sound, the person sitting next to Woo Jiwon turned toward him. At that moment, I clearly saw his profile.

“…Really?”

The figure under the dim streetlight was definitely a boy. Wearing the same uniform as Woo Jiwon and me. My eyes weren’t playing tricks on me.

What the hell is this idiot blabbering about? Did he finally lose it, cooped up studying all day?

“Say it one more time… I can’t believe it.”

The guy’s tone was overly calm. On closer inspection, I vaguely recognized him. A kid from a wealthy family who annoyed people with his smug attitude. I think our families had some business collaboration recently.

Stuffing a glowing white phone into his pocket, the guy leaned toward Woo Jiwon intimately. Slightly shrinking back, Woo Jiwon answered in a trembling voice.

“I… like you. I thought you felt the same way…”

But Woo Jiwon’s words didn’t finish. The guy burst into uncontrollable laughter. As if on cue, one or two other boys crawled out from the surroundings. They were clearly delinquents. The boy who received Woo Jiwon’s confession laughed until tears formed, pointing at him.

“Hey, did you hear that? You heard, right? I told you it was real.”

“Gross. Fuck, he’s actually gay?”

“I told you! From way back! My instincts are spot-on. Hey, pay up the bet.”

“Fuck.”

The boys laughed endlessly. Grasping the situation, I spat on the ground.

But Woo Jiwon just sat there trembling, looking utterly pathetic. Seeing the guy who always acted weak and innocent get played like this was, honestly, satisfying. Dumbass. Snorting, I was about to walk away when—

“Hey, did the video record properly? Look at this.”

Amid the cackling, I heard the sound of a video. Woo Jiwon’s shy, idiotically timid confession played back loudly. The boys burst into laughter again.

“Man, I should’ve just kissed him right then, this idiot!”

“Fuck, you serious? Don’t talk like that with your filthy mouth.”

“Man, who should we send this to? This is hilarious.”

Honestly, regardless of how annoying Woo Jiwon was, I started to wish he’d at least punch one of those guys in the face. Watching this made me feel like shit.

But the pathetic Woo Jiwon, unable to control his trembling body, crouched down and started sobbing. Jeers and insults poured out, and several phones with flashing lights pointed at him.

Fuck. Stupid bastard…

Muttering, my body instinctively rushed into the gazebo. I kicked the guy who got the confession first, sending him tumbling to the back of the gazebo. Seeing the delinquent sprawl out with a scream improved my mood slightly.

“Who’s this guy?”

“Hey, it’s fucking Woo Jihyuk!”

“What?”

Seeing me appear out of nowhere, they reacted like they’d seen a ghost. Grabbing the arm of a big guy charging from behind, I flipped him over my shoulder, and a couple more fell with him. With a bang, screams and curses erupted.

From there, I swung my fists at anyone in reach. The thick, metallic smell of blood filled the gazebo’s air. The sensation of bones crunching under my fists was vivid. The defenseless group quickly fell, sprawling on the ground. Panting groans and low curses hit my ears familiarly.

“Hic, ugh. Fuck…”

With an unpleasant groan, a sharp pain grazed my side. Fuck, this guy’s completely insane. Even with all my fighting experience, lowlife bastards wielding weapons were rare.

Cursing, I turned around. The blade in the hand of the guy who got Woo Jiwon’s confession gleamed.

Crazy bastard. Growling low, I rammed into his stomach. With a boom, the gazebo shook. As I tried to snatch the knife from the guy pinned to the ground, he shook it off, throwing it away. Woo Jiwon, trembling and crying, picked up the knife with shaking hands.

I grabbed his neck with both hands and pressed down. It wasn’t about killing him, just knocking him out lightly. His thrashing under my knees gradually slowed. Just as I was about to ease the pressure on his carotid artery—

“Stop it! Woo Jihyuk! Let go!”

A cracking voice screamed. At the same time, a blade flew toward my face.

If I had grabbed the blade just one second later.

One of us would likely have been blinded. Raising my hand reflexively to shield my eyes saved them, but it left an ugly stitched scar on the back of my hand.

And if I had just passed by Woo Jiwon that day.

I wouldn’t have been exiled to the U.S. for three years to keep a low profile, nor would I have had to board a plane with just Father’s secretary, without any family seeing me off, because of Woo Jiwon’s conveniently timed heart attack. Above all, I wouldn’t have spent nights cursing myself as an idiot for jumping in to save a lunatic who tried to stab his own brother over some guy.

Right after Woo Jiwon stabbed me, the police stormed in due to residents’ reports. After causing all that chaos, Woo Jiwon conveniently had a heart attack. He was taken to the hospital, leaving me to deal with the aftermath. Even though that gang started the fight, it was obvious I was the one who brutally beat them.

The guy who got Woo Jiwon’s confession hit his head hard when he fell, and with his neck choked, he suffered a concussion and subdural hematoma, requiring months in the hospital. The others had a broken tooth, a broken nose, and a cracked rib.

Those idiots always get beaten like that.

No amount of internal cursing helped. Everything worked against me. No matter how lowlife they were, they were still schoolmates, and their families were all cut from the same cloth. In the end, Father, who had always subtly kept me out of trouble, had no choice but to send me to the U.S. for a settlement and to keep things quiet.

“Go learn some English. Have fun too. Try not to do drugs; it’s a hassle when you come back.”

Father said with a hollow laugh. He wanted to bring me back after a year, but Mother was too worried about Jiwon, so it’d be tough. Even without hearing all of Father’s words, I could imagine how furiously Mother opposed my return, citing Jiwon’s health.

Life in the U.S. was easier, with no need to think. No Mother looking at me like I was a serial killer, no annoying Woo Jiwon breathing down my neck. Thankfully, despite being exiled for causing trouble, Father’s love for me remained intact.

So I partied recklessly as Father instructed and studied moderately. Having fun was great, but I didn’t want to ruin my life over it. Thinking of Mother, who sent me here, and filthy Woo Jiwon, who ruined my hand over a guy, made me even more determined. For whose sake?

The subtle nerve damage in my hand made it disobey my will. The feeling of not controlling my body was indescribably awful. For the first time, facing helplessness, my desire to kill Woo Jiwon surged daily. I confronted that razor-sharp emotion every night.

Pouring money into treatment for months, my hand finally started moving again. Once sensation returned, it recovered quickly, moving almost as well as before, and the wretched helplessness faded.

But needless to say, my hatred for Woo Jiwon, who I wanted to kill, and Mother, who left me alone in the U.S. with a ruined hand, didn’t lessen after one or two years.

So I told Father I wouldn’t take the college entrance exam, citing resentment toward the family. It was my first rebellion against him, hoping Mother would face his blame and pressure. Father would be angrier about me refusing the exam than about who I beat up. Of course, I didn’t actually plan to skip it.

As expected, Father flew to the U.S. and slapped me. Since my rebellion had a clear purpose, I could remain calm despite my first punishment from him. Seeing him off after he tried to reason with me and returned to Korea exhausted, I thought I’d soon be back in Korea.

And I was right. In the summer of my nineteenth year, I wrapped up everything in the U.S. and boarded a flight to Korea.