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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 54
Chapter Title: A Flood of Tears
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54.
“Ah, fuck, why is there so much traffic? Get in the bus lane.”
“It’s still too early, if we get in now…”
“Just do it, you idiot. Are you going to take responsibility if we’re late to the airport?”
Tae-gon, on edge due to his long overseas business trip, created a tense atmosphere for the employee who was driving. The highway was gridlocked. It was still too early for the bus lane to open to regular traffic, but the employee shrewdly changed lanes anyway.
Pleased that the car was finally picking up speed, Tae-gon turned his attention back to his tablet. He was leaving the country to manage Eun-seong’s American schedule and his attendance at a film festival. After that, he had to handle a schedule in the UK, and then another in China.
It was all for Eun-seong. His overseas schedule alone was this overwhelming; he shouldn't have booked the domestic film.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got, and he shut off the tablet. Then, suddenly curious about the status of another actor at his agency, he spoke.
“Manager Hong. How much time is left on Yang Hee-ryeong’s contract?”
“About a year left now.”
“A year? We invested so much in her, but she can’t even handle a single role properly. What has she been doing all this time?”
Tae-gon’s brow furrowed deeply. He was thoroughly displeased with the weak standing of the young actress whose contract had only a year remaining.
“We did submit her for an audition for Director Shin’s new movie. But it’s rated R, so I think Ms. Yang is hesitating.”
“What the fuck is she being picky about? She should be taking whatever she can get, and even then, we might not recoup our investment. Tell her to do it, no matter what.”
“Yes, Daepyonim.”
“Contact Manager Park from Cheongdam-dong Milk soon and have him line up a decent sponsor. There are plenty of rich, woman-crazy, empty-headed suckers over there, right?”
As Tae-gon spoke, Manager Hong, who was driving, glanced at him through the rearview mirror. Cheongdam-dong Milk was an unlicensed bar that catered to the upper class, and Manager Park was the so-called talent manager.
As if to ask what he was so surprised about, Tae-gon’s eyebrows shot up in irritation.
“Talk to her nicely. Give her an advance and get her in there. She needs money too, doesn’t she?”
“Ah… Yes, Daepyonim.”
“Make back ten times our investment within a year. I’ve made myself clear.”
Tae-gon cut himself off, as if he didn’t want to waste any more words, and fell into thought for a moment. Then he kicked the back of the passenger seat. The other manager sitting there immediately turned around.
“Yes, Daepyonim.”
“That child actor on Eun-seong’s set. Han-byeol. Hire someone and look into him.”
“Hire someone?”
“Changrok isn’t being cooperative, so I’m telling you to hire someone. Are you just going to sit on the information they spoon-feed you? Stop talking so much and just do as you’re told.”
“Yes, Daepyonim.”
His expression still twisted in a scowl, Tae-gon returned his gaze to the tablet.
*
Like a Star
After her confession, Yeon-joo spent her time with Hae-yeong talking more than usual and laughing loudly.
Leaving the lamb skewer restaurant, she stood facing Hae-yeong for a moment. *Should we go for a second round? Is there anything you want to eat? If you’re tired, we can go next time.*
In response to Hae-yeong’s questions, Yeon-joo waved her hand, promising a next time. Saying she would stop by the office since it was an awkward time to go home, Hae-yeong waited for her designated driver while Yeon-joo boarded a bus home.
Luckily finding a seat, Yeon-joo put in her earphones. She played a popular idol song and, leaning her head against the bus window, tapped her fingers lightly to the rhythm.
She gently closed her eyes as they neared the outdoor billboard of Eun-seong she had seen on her way to the restaurant. As she focused on the thumping music in her earphones, she remembered Han-byeol once saying he liked this song and a faint smile touched her lips.
After many people had gotten on and off, the bus arrived at the stop near her home. Yeon-joo walked with long strides, stopping at a nearby convenience store to buy two cans of beer.
She put them in her bag and started walking again, picking up her pace to match the fast beat of the K-pop song. On her way home, Yeon-joo turned at a fork in the road and headed toward the park.
The park, now past its busiest hours, was quiet. As she entered, a path lined with scarlet oaks began, and Yeon-joo walked briskly along the wooden deck.
As the yellow streetlights added to the autumn night’s ambiance, an open space without clear boundaries came into view. Empty benches were lined up in a long row, but Yeon-joo walked much farther, only stopping when she reached a bench tucked away in a corner. A place no one would find unless they made a point of coming here, this bench was where Yeon-joo occasionally came to sort out her thoughts.
She took out her earphones. The boisterous and chaotic song, with lyrics she could barely make out, was gone, and her ears felt almost numb in its absence.
*Hoo.* She set her bag down on the isolated bench, plopped down, and caught her breath, her gaze fixed on the scenery. Looking at it now, it seemed the deepening autumn had reached its peak. The autumn flowers—chrysanthemums, star jasmine, asters, poinsettias, and emerald gold arborvitae—showed off their colorful forms, a pleasant sight to behold.
Staring blankly at the flowers, she took out the beer she had put in her bag. *Tschick*—the familiar sound of carbonation escaping hissed as she pulled the tab, and Yeon-joo drank the beer in one go.
She gulped it down without pausing until she was out of breath. The chill from the cold can made her fingertips feel numb, but her heart was on fire, so she gripped it even tighter.
“Hooo…”
Finally pulling her lips away, Yeon-joo let out a long breath. She slowly wiped the moisture from her lower lip with the back of her hand, then gently closed her eyes.
She had struggled so hard to get here, trying to control the emotions that surged up inside her. She had laughed more than ever in front of Hae-yeong, afraid of showing her pathetic side, and on the bus, surrounded by strangers, she had surrendered her mind to a loud song, afraid of breaking down.
*It’s okay here. No one is around.*
“I’m going crazy…”
The single, blurted-out phrase seemed to snap the thread of thoughts she had been desperately holding onto. With the half-empty beer can in hand, hidden in the black landscape where even the sunset had faded, she let out a ragged breath.
A pained groan escaped her, like that of someone who had witnessed a blood-curdling tragedy. The sorrow clogging her throat grew unabated, threatening to cut off the wretched breaths she had managed to sustain.
Heat pooled in her weary eyes. *No. No.* With her eyes neither fully open nor fully closed, Yeon-joo fought with all her might against the moisture gathering on her eyelashes.
*You promised you wouldn’t cry. You promised.*
“I’m going crazy, I’m going crazy…”
At some point, she had stopped wanting to show her tears. Living as a child’s mother, she felt she wouldn’t be able to properly live a single day if she cried whenever she wanted to. Sadness didn’t arrive in a predictably painful form; it came without warning, like a counterattack, making any preparation useless.
So it was right to forget about tears and live on. All she had to do was bite her lip hard and endure it each time. For my child, for the life I chose, I believed I needed to be stronger, and that’s how I had lived.
But what about today?
This sadness, this agony, how was she supposed to swallow it?
“Ah…”
A single tear fell. The warm wetness spreading on the back of her hand seemed to be the signal. The tears she had held back for so long found their path and flowed one after another. Yeon-joo clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut.
The black future was bleak, so time kept rewinding. Stories that no one would ever acknowledge, no matter how many times she replayed them, rose to the surface in a long line.
While you were shooting a commercial worth billions, my child was rolling over for the first time—
While everyone was chanting your name at a grand party, my child was taking his first steps.
“Ah… ah…”
Her expression began to crumble. Overwhelmed by the swelling, cold, and bitter emotions, Yeon-joo curled into herself.
When you were cast as the lead in a famous movie, my child called me “Momma” with a lisp and put on his cutest act for his first taste of ice cream.
When you were smiling brightly in a world of bouquets too numerous to hold in two arms, I was preparing my child’s birthday meal, taking a Polaroid picture every year.
The time my child started kindergarten, the time he gave me a carnation for the first time.
The time he brought home radish kimchi he’d made at kindergarten. The time my child looked so magnificent in his taekwondo uniform.
The time he was in a major car accident, the time we had no choice but to delay his entry into elementary school by a year.
“Ah… ah… ah…”
Days and times that might seem trivial to others, but to me, felt like the world was turning upside down.
My habit of talking to myself grew as I looked you up every morning. *Hello, Han-byeol ate kimchi for the first time yesterday.*
*Hello, today is Han-byeol’s field trip. Hello, Han-byeol got a perm yesterday, and he’s so cute.*
*You have no idea how beautiful he is. So beautiful it’s a shame I can’t show you.*
“Aaaah… Ahh… Ugh… hhuk…”
Finally, a raw, bitter sob burst out. Tears that hadn’t been able to flow out for so long, that had rotted and pooled inside, now poured out as devastatingly as a monsoon rain. They flowed so hot it felt like they would boil and scald her pupils.
…When I met you again, I wanted to run away.
I, who had forgotten romance, joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure while raising a child, was first afraid that I would shatter your memory of the delicate, fragile girl I used to be.
Next, I was afraid of how small I would seem, already so worn down by life, in contrast to you, who was constantly reaching new heights.
But isn’t it strange—
When I stood before you, I became my twenty-three-year-old self. Not the mother with a heart hardened and calloused, but the young twenty-three-year-old me, with a heart as unblemished as fine powder, as soft as mink.
My heart, which I had thought was dead, began to beat. A blush spread across my cheeks.
I already knew this was wrong, but—it felt as if I had met the me I had forgotten, as if I had found myself—
Just one more day, just one more day, I became greedy.
“Ugh… huk… heueuk…”
There was also a sense of entitlement, that I had contributed to your dazzling success. There was also a sense of injustice, the feeling that my blood, sweat, and tears must have been mixed into some of the steps of the endless staircase you climbed.
I rationalized that this was all possible because I had let you go with all my heart, so I was justified in having this much time.
What vicious, cruel selfishness that was—
“Aaaah… ah… ugh… huk…”
Tears streamed down so relentlessly that wiping them away was pointless, so she just let them flow.
The future was just as frightening, and not an inch of her life was predictable, but the me of tomorrow would be no different from the me of today, and would still hover by his side.
I might end up leaving you, and us, covered in scars, a complete wreck, but I couldn’t stop now.
Her shoulders shaking, she cried out loud for a long time.
Because I, too, wanted to be loved, and wanted to love.
