HACKED 102

Misery in the media is treated as something extremely provocative and peculiar. But the misery of reality is not like that. It is moderately lukewarm and moderately ordinary. So much so that it wouldn’t be strange to attach the phrase, “That’s just how life is.”

The place called the orphanage was like that too.

There are people who feel pity as a spinal reflex the moment they hear the word orphanage. Without even hearing the rest of the story, they immediately churn out audience-like reactions such as, “Oh, what to do,” or “Oh dear, how unfortunate.” I wonder if a prompt is entered into their brain cells to react that way.

However, the place known as an orphanage in reality is not as special as they imagine. It means it is not a cradle for poor and pathetic baby angels with sad stories that cannot be heard without tears. It’s not that there are no stories, but people outside the orphanage are all similar in that regard anyway.

In the orphanage where I stayed, there were not only orphans who did not even know who their parents were but also kids whose parents were perfectly alive. I was the former, and Lee Jaeyoung was the latter.

Actually, to be precise, he wasn’t exactly the latter. Because Lee Jaeyoung’s parents were “alive,” but they were not “perfectly fine.”

He was a case where he was separated from parents who committed all sorts of crimes as well as child abuse and was sent to a facility. Right after that, his parents were incarcerated in prison as long-term prisoners. In the sense that there was no home to return to, he and I were in a similar situation.

Me, who was from a facility since birth, and him, who was separated from devil-like biological parents and sent to a facility. I don’t know which side is more miserable. Regardless, we grew up tied together under the framework of something like brothers under one roof.

Brothers between two people with different last names, different parents, no relationship on paper, and not a single drop of blood shared biologically. Thinking about it now, it is a bit funny. But back then, it was like that.

I didn’t want to define the children of the orphanage with an ambiguous title like “a kid living in the same facility.” I wanted to use words like “hyung,” “noona,” and “dongsaeng” that all the other kids at school naturally used. Even if it was just an imitation, I wanted to try entering the fence of a family.

So, how was my childhood there?

Actually, it wasn’t particularly miserable. If you asked if I was happy, I would flatly say no, but it means I wasn’t miserable 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.

To summarize it in one word, it was a misery that was endurable. Just, “it sucked, but somehow it was worth holding on.”

I don’t know. Was it because I had lived in an orphanage since birth that my threshold for misery had lowered? Or was I in a situation like a goldfish being boiled to death in water that gradually increases in temperature without knowing why?

In fact, the memories of that time are not clear either. I heard that ordinary people remember their childhood most intensely out of their life cycle, but I was not like that.

Partial and fragmented memories are vivid. The sensation of blood coming from a scraped knee when I fell on the asphalt floor, the sight of dust floating in the sunlight that pierced through the door crack of the warehouse behind the orphanage, the refracted hatred of children who received prejudiced gazes before their sense of self had even matured.

But the overall memories were at a level where they almost didn’t remain, beyond being blurry. Months, and sometimes years, were flown away in chunks, leaving the timeline in my head hollow. I just realized I had become an elementary school student, and then I realized I had become a middle school student.

I don’t even remember well what kind of child I was at school. Regardless, since I graduated normally up to middle school, I just guess that I must have filled the minimum attendance days and didn’t do anything to get disciplined.

Amidst my childhood, which was as cloudy as if covered by dark clouds, Lee Jaeyoung was one of the rare clear memories.

What was the occasion that brought him and me closer? Was it in late elementary school, or middle school? Around the time puberty was about to hit… it was caused by a verbal fight we had during a peak sensitive period.

“At least you have parents. I don’t even know who my parents are. I want to at least see the faces of what kind of humans took a dump and ran, and what kind of humans abandoned me as soon as they gave birth to me.”

…Hmm. Thinking about it now, I was a guy who was incredibly childish at that time. Not that I’m particularly grown-up now, though.

“What’s the point of having parents? I don’t even want to call those people parents. I wish they weren’t there from the start instead. Like you, hyung.”

That was Lee Jaeyoung’s answer to my immature grumbling. I immediately flared up at those words.

“Oh, right. You son of a bitch. Are you done talking?”

Naturally, that was a time when I had more anger and tears than now. It would be more accurate to say that now, rather than becoming mature, I’ve lost even the energy for that.

“I have plenty to say. My mom was addicted to gambling, had a ton of private loan debt, and was chased by gangsters several times, but she couldn’t quit until the end and committed suicide. My dad regularly went in and out of the slammer for beating people, and eventually got life imprisonment for special larceny and even sexual assault. Can you call trash like this parents?”

“Anyway, you must have lived with family for at least a little while. You’ll have relatives, whether distant or close. I’m all alone in the world. You don’t know the feeling of opening a Family Relationship Certificate and it being empty except for my name!”

“That’s why that kind of family is worse than having none!”

“Since we’re talking about it, you punk. You said my name is pretty, right? Do you know how my name was made?”

“…….”

“The director was wasted from drinking the night before and was suffering from a hangover, but wouldn’t you know it, some brat came into the baby box that day and there was so much paperwork to do, so he was pissed off to death. Since the date happened to be August 8th, he reportedly just roughly made up a name based on the hangover cure bottle in front of him and filed the birth report.”

Lee Jaeyoung’s expression distorted with half embarrassment and half dismay. Funnily enough, I felt a slight sense of victory at that moment.

“Lee Jaeyoung. Is my name still pretty? I think your name is a thousand, ten thousand times better.”

The boy flickered his lips a few times but eventually couldn’t say anything. Instead, he brought up a different topic.

“Myeong hyung. Let’s stop this talk. Is there any point in us fighting over who is more miserable?”

“What? Suddenly you’re talking like a ethics textbook.”

“Does it make you feel better to think you’re the most pitiful and miserable person in the world? No, I don’t think so. Even if the world looks at us with pity, we shouldn’t do that to ourselves.”

“Then what do you want me to do? Should I start a ‘Find and be grateful for small happiness in daily life’ campaign or something?”

For the record, that “in daily life” whatever campaign was something said by a person who was a youth psychological counselor or something who came to the orphanage for a talent donation lecture a few weeks ago.

80% of the kids who listened to that lecture slept, and the 20% who didn’t sleep were using those words as a meme filled with sarcasm. And as for which side I was… I was the side that eavesdropped on what the kids were saying after sleeping my fill.

“You know. Small happiness in daily life. No, this isn’t a small happiness, it’s a huge happiness.”

“What is it?”

Lee Jaeyoung did not drop his serious expression even at my cynical question. He leaned his head in close as if he were telling a very important and solemn story.

“Both of us…”

“…….”

“Aren’t going to the military.”

“…….”

“Criteria for incorporation into Grade 5 Wartime Labor Service. A person whose parents are unknown on the family relationship register. Or a person who has a record of being protected in a child welfare facility, etc., under the Child Welfare Act for 5 years or more.”

Lee Jaeyoung pointed at me once, and then at himself once.

“The first one applies to hyung. The second one applies to both me and hyung. So both of us are exempt.”

Our eyes met. I muttered without realizing it.

“Uh…. That’s fucking great.”

The words came from the bottom of my heart. I was a guy born without a shred of sociability, and I was at a point where I hated group life in the orphanage or school enough to develop a neurosis, so there was no way military service would be welcome.

Lee Jaeyoung, who was observing my expression, burst out with a strange sound.

“Pwahaha!”

Legally skipping the military. Isn’t that something every young man in this country dreams of at least once? I said it was great because it was fucking great, so what’s so funny?

“Why are you laughing?”

“It’s my first time seeing Myeong hyung say he likes something.”

“Me?”

“You always say no when the kids ask to go out and play, and you say no when they ask to play games or soccer.”

“Is that the same as this? If someone told me they’d exempt me from the military if I played a round of a game? I’d immediately run like a dog on all fours to turn on the game.”

“Ah, hyung is really funny.”

I don’t know what was so funny, but Lee Jaeyoung rolled around the floor of the small living room laughing. I was worried he might hit the multiple bunk beds packed into the room.

I think it was from then. When that boy started calling me “our hyung,” and I started calling him “my brother.”