Chapter 15: The Unbearable Weight of the “Routine”

“I doubt you came up here just to check that.”

“Why were you late today? School should have finished early because of exams. Did you stop somewhere?”

“Why the sudden act of being a close mother? It’s unfamiliar.”

Her eyes crinkled at my words. After laughing with a sound that seemed genuinely amused, she calmly pulled the corners of her mouth back down.

“Come down and have dinner. I’ve prepared the braised short ribs you like.”

It was a joke. I had never seen her cook, nor had I ever liked a table set under her direction.

I slowly exhaled the breath I’d been holding deep in my lungs.

“Is that the ‘Mother Concept’ for today?”

“…….”

“Ah, it’s a bit lacking.”

“Your father is waiting.”

“Then the two of you should eat together. Keep it intimate.”

I withdrew my gaze from her and returned to the book that hadn’t been registering in my mind. Despite my clear refusal, she stood her ground, pretending not to notice.

“The Chairman is coming next week for a meal. Will you speak like that then, too?”

The lines of text I was scanning blurred. It was pathetic, the way she tried to manage me in advance for the sake of her father’s visit. I wondered if this was discussed with my father, or if she was just acting out on her own.

My mood was plummeting to the absolute depths of discomfort. It was a filthy feeling, incomparable to the mere annoyance I felt when worried about Song Yun Jae. What I felt earlier wasn’t even real irritation, I thought trivial thoughts while underlining meaningless words with my mechanical pencil.

A faint scent of perfume mixed into my slow breath. The nauseating smell flipped my barely-managed composure. Simultaneously, at her next words, the lead of my pencil snapped.

“Don’t eat dinner at school that day; come straight home. The Chairman says he wants to see you. You should greet him properly after all this time.”

I felt her turn to leave after finishing her piece.

“Ha….”

F*ck, I really can’t do this.

I leaned my stiff neck back. When I finally looked back, the room was empty, the door she had opened left ajar at an awkward angle. She had a million ways to get under my skin. I knew it was her habit to leave a trace of her presence behind, as if to say, ‘I was here.’ I just didn’t expect her to do it so blatantly while I was still in the room.

I debated closing the door but opened the window instead. The sickening perfume seemed to linger in the air. I flipped the calendar on my desk.

Next week was July. July….

“…….”

July was a troublesome month. It was the month when the semester’s grades were finalized, and my father always used those grades to try and act like a “father.” It was also the month of my mother’s birthday, which had long since passed without celebration. And it was the month the woman frequently organized family gatherings. So, at next week’s dinner, she would likely try to set another schedule—whether it was a trip or another meal.

My father had never once questioned the schedules she made. Whether it was her complaining, her spite, or her tantrums regarding my mother’s birthday, he simply accepted it all. I suppose it made sense; he was too busy following the path cleared by his new father-in-law.

‘Don’t stand out. Don’t cause trouble; graduate quietly. Don’t leave a blemish.’

So, I already felt like a blemish to him.

What more could I possibly do? What other “blemish” was I supposed to avoid?

My gaze dropped back to the calendar. Next week’s dinner, the mid-month break, and the birthday at the end of the month. It was a sequence where nothing felt easy or good. My chest felt tight. I reached into my bag for the cigarettes I’d been holding back. As I pulled out my lighter and cigarette pack, intending to go for a short walk, something sharp poked my hand.

It was the ointment I’d bought for Song Yun Jae.

The irritation and frustration that had been rising like they were about to burst suddenly faltered. Song Yun Jae was just as frustrating, but I felt like being with him would be better than this. As soon as that thought occurred, I became curious about him. Specifically, how he spent his time after exams.

It was obvious that both of us had sh*tty home lives, so I wondered how he was enduring it. How he would survive the summer break. What his July and August would look like.

The thought of skipping ahead through the seasons made me feel ridiculous.

“Funny, Cha Hyun Uk.”

It really was a funny thought. A guy who even has the luxury to be curious about others isn’t that pathetic. My own family is a mess; am I really in a position to worry about someone else’s?

I had lost both the time and the desire for such things long ago.

I was born with a good brain for studying. Some friends would roll their eyes as if I were being obnoxious when I said it, but my grades always followed suit as proof. Thanks to that, school life was never difficult. The kids I toured the cram school districts with would gossip behind my back, claiming I must have a secret private tutor, but after a parent orientation, they would approach me with smiles as if they’d never glared at me.

‘Hyun Uk! Want to come over to my place and do homework today?’

‘Cram school ends at 10 PM, though?’

‘My mom said she’d make late-night snacks. She goes to a cooking academy.’

‘Ah… it’s okay.’

‘Right… your mom must be waiting for you too.’

Mom. Even though I hadn’t given a reason, the word he used contained the image of the woman’s actions that I could picture without even looking. I wondered how much of a clown she had been acting like. Why did she have to tie me into her act? In those moments, I always had to lose my expression.

After a few quarterly parent orientations, I had become the “naturally gifted child,” the “envied top student,” the “smart kid born with a silver spoon.” Perhaps that was why, even if I half-listened in class, or left cigarette butts in the incinerator, or didn’t make a single close friend… no one ever lectured me or said a word about it.

Life flowed by, comfortably and quietly enough.

As long as I minimized my time at home, it wasn’t a bad life. A smooth life that wasn’t particularly bothersome or stimulating.

“Cha Hyun Uk, did you self-grade your math exam?”

But in June of my eighteenth year, Song Yun Jae was breaking all of that.

On the last day of finals, during the time remaining before the final announcements, he came to my desk as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Why would I self-grade?”

“Because I’m curious how many I got wrong.”

“I don’t have anything like that.”

“Where does that confidence come from?”

If I just gave a moderately gentle smile, everyone else kept their distance. That was comfortable for both me and them. Once the rumors started—about whose son I was—the distance became even more solid. Even if someone got on my nerves and I revealed my foul temper, the result was the same. The result was always what I wanted: quiet, smooth, and hassle-free.

So, this was my routine and a kind of solution when dealing with others.

I never dreamed there would be someone it wouldn’t work on.

Maybe there was some intent to stop their son’s delinquency—the son who had started smoking. Moving to a small neighborhood like Sodong, where commuting is difficult, suggested that much. Perhaps that’s why the woman hasn’t acted like a clown for the past six months here, but there was no telling when she’d lose her grip. Would Song Yun Jae change then, too? While I was thinking, he flipped open my test paper.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m checking to see if there’s a reason for you being so obnoxious.”

I stopped my hand as it was about to snatch the paper away.

The boy, who had shown me his bruises and caught hell for it on the first day of exams, hadn’t shown any sign of it on the second day, the day after, or even today. Perhaps he thought I was a bit sensitive, or maybe he hadn’t been hit since that day, because he hadn’t asked me to apply ointment.

Seeing him pack his bag early as if he had somewhere to go the moment exams ended, I felt a sense of relief, but also a lingering, murky discomfort.

Carefully comparing my test paper with his, his face scrunched up at the last page. It was one of his few expressions. Then, his face relaxed, and I saw his lips moving as if he were doing mental math. He bit his lip slightly with his front teeth before letting go, leaving them a bright crimson. My gaze was drawn to their moderately full shape, and I had to force myself to look away.

I felt scattered, as if I’d done something wrong. Then, I remembered the ointment that had been in my pocket for days. Having carried it around for so long, it didn’t even feel sharp or uncomfortable anymore. Rather than keeping this, it would be easier to just give it to him.

I thought maybe the reason he kept bothering me was because I was still holding onto it.

“Hey.”

“Hey…!”

We spoke at the same time.

“Why did you call me?”

“What about you?”

“Wait, is this really number 4 for you?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah… why did I get this wrong?”

He put his hand on the crown of his head. Because he pressed down with his palm, his bangs poked his eyes slightly. With his eyes obscured, his lips, resting just below the bridge of his nose, drew my attention even more. I reflexively turned my head away.

“Why did you call me?”

“…….”

“Are you angry again?”

“It’s annoying, so just go back to your seat.”

“That temper of yours, really.”

He said it, but there wasn’t a hint of blame in his tone. Speaking softly, Song Yun Jae went back to his seat without even returning my test paper.

I absentmindedly fiddled with the ointment in my pocket. I needed to get rid of this headache quickly.