Chapter 18: The Old Roots and New Sprout

After Seonghye and Yunhwan departed, Junseong fell into deep thought.

It had already been a month since he last met Chairman Min, Seonghye’s father. At that final meeting, Seonghye had coughed up blood and collapsed right in front of him. The shock the elderly Chairman received at that moment was indescribable.

The chaos of an aging father fainting and his son collapsing simultaneously, both being rushed to the hospital, was a nightmare. Junseong, who had witnessed it all firsthand, had to keep his phone turned off for an entire day to avoid the inevitable summons from the Seongbuk-dong estate.

A father and son separated by over fifty years.

Seonghye was the youngest son, and the ones who looked most unfavorably upon his relationship with the Chairman were his own half-siblings—the Chairman’s other children. They practically foamed at the mouth whenever the two met. Junseong was so weary of their interference that he wouldn’t even turn his car toward Seongbuk-dong anymore.

Fortunately, the Chairman’s quick-witted secretary managed to handle the fallout. No calls came from the Min siblings, and Chairman Min regained consciousness a full day later. Even then, his breathing was so unstable he required a respirator, yet he personally graced the neighboring VIP ward to see his youngest son.

What Junseong saw when he visited the hospital at that time was…

‘Chairman!’

The scene was Chairman Min, still hooked to a respirator, strangling Seonghye. Junseong struggled for a long time before the strength of the eighty-year-old man finally gave out, and he tumbled backward.

‘Why do you stop me? Why!’ The old man, his white hair and wrinkled hands betraying his age, screamed as if spitting out blood.

‘That boy Seonghye went mad after his mother died. He didn’t just lose his mind; he became a completely different person! Several times a day! I can’t tell if he’s my son or whose words are coming out of that mouth. I’m going crazy worrying about that lunatic!’

‘So you’re going to put him in a psychiatric ward again? You know his condition worsened after the last hospitalization. Seonghye isn’t crazy. This is a treatable illness!’

‘A boy who doesn’t even know who he is… and now they say he’s imprinted!’

It seemed that even in the eyes of his own flesh and blood, Seonghye’s state had long since veered far beyond the realm of “normal.”

Chairman Min had vacillated between fury and deep sorrow over the fact that his most cherished child had been broken beyond repair. In the end, he had stared at his sleeping son with eyes full of clear anxiety and fear.

‘…The boy who used to look at me with murderous intent the moment he opened his eyes is now lying there like a half-corpse. I’ve reached the point where I miss him throwing tantrums in front of me.’

There was a blind desperation in the Chairman’s love for Seonghye; he had tried every treatment and visited every hospital imaginable. While he claimed to love all his children, he acted as if he would give up his very soul for Seonghye. To Junseong, it looked like an obsession with something that could never be reclaimed.

Even when he took over the company by crushing his own brothers, or when he faced the operating table for three different bouts with cancer, the only thing that made Chairman Min look back was his most beloved—and most destroyed—child.

That was likely why the Chairman lived so tenaciously: to undo the damage and cure the incurable. Even when Professor Jang, the Chairman’s long-time friend, suggested taking Seonghye back to Sanghui-ri for treatment, the Chairman had consented with a face that looked like he’d rather die. It was all because of that terrible, lingering love.

Ending his brief recollection, Junseong slowly opened his eyes.

The July sunlight streaming through the counseling room window was intense. Getting up to avoid the direct glare, Junseong walked toward his desk where Seonghye’s flowerpot sat.

“There’s no way Seonghye knows this is treatment for breaking an imprint…”

His finger touched a small Sansevieria leaf. When he gently pulled upward, the black, rotting roots were revealed. Just as Seonghye said, it was already dead; the chance of saving it was remote.

“…The problem is that he’s already starting to feel the anxiety. Hmm.”

Junseong tucked the rotting roots back into the soil. Once again, the pot appeared before him as a vibrant, green plant that showed no outward sign of dying.

Instead of going home after the treatment, Yunhwan headed with Seonghye to a nearby city about an hour past Baeksan-gun. His grandmother had been staying at a nursing home there for the past two years. Having been unable to visit recently because of caring for Seonghye, he felt a heavy weight on his conscience.

He had promised to visit last week, but the sudden living arrangement with Seonghye had pushed it back, making him even more uneasy.

Yunhwan had been raised by his grandmother. He had never seen his parents’ faces. When he was very young, an elder relative told him his father was unreachable and his mother had remarried. It was his grandparents who took him in when he was being passed around between relatives in his swaddling clothes.

Fortunately, he grew up knowing his roots, but the thought of his grandmother, who had aged faster than others to raise him, always left a bitter taste in his mouth.

While Yunhwan checked his mirrors to park, Seonghye asked softly, “How long has your grandmother been in the hospital, Hyung?”

Yunhwan turned off the ignition and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Two years now. She hasn’t been well for a while.”

It was only natural that her body gave out, having to raise a one-year-old grandson at an age when she should have been resting. Especially after a surgery at the end of last year, she had become so frail she could hardly move. The memory of her skeletal wrists made Yunhwan’s expression darken.

“Should I wait here?”

Yunhwan shook his head firmly at Seonghye’s question. How could he leave someone in the car on such a hot day? It was unthinkable.

“No, it’s too hot. You should stay inside the building. Just wait in the first-floor lobby for a bit. I’ll be right back after I see her.”

Seonghye unbuckled his belt and gave a low nod.

“What are you thinking about again?”

The white-haired woman scowled at her grandson, whose expression had turned gloomy while peeling an apple.

“If you’re gonna peel it like that, give me the knife.”

Her eyes fell disapprovingly on the jagged, broken apple skins. Yunhwan ignored her and began to move the knife more carefully. He kept the ugly pieces for himself and neatly arranged the presentable slices on a plate. As if on cue, three hands reached out and took a slice each.

There were about thirty elderly residents here at ‘Happy Nursing Home.’ Because the group was small, it wasn’t hard to remember each other’s family situations or the faces of frequent visitors.

In Yunhwan’s case, many of the seniors remembered him because it was rare to see a grandson—rather than a child—care for his grandmother so devotedly. In a place where even grown children often avoided visiting, the sight of a young man coming and going naturally drew attention.

One of the elders at the table stared at Yunhwan and spoke up. “Hey, your grandma complains so much lately about you farming. She says your face isn’t built for farming, yet you’re out there plowing and sowing all day and night.”

“…….”

“Are you doing alright this year?”

At the serious question, Yunhwan’s grandmother’s expression soured. When she pointedly set her apple down, Yunhwan’s gaze dropped.

There are questions one expects to receive as they age, but the questions Yunhwan had been getting the past few years were always of this variety—the kind that already contain the answer, making them awkward to respond to.

Yunhwan subtly changed the subject while slicing another piece. “I’m fine, so please, everyone, eat the apples.”

“Aigoo, your face has halved. What are we going to do?”

“Stop farming now. You should go to Seoul and work; why suffer like this here?”

While Yunhwan fell silent again amidst the pouring chatter, his grandmother picked up a slice and looked at him. Her grandson’s face was as handsome as ever, but seeing the darkness in his eyes and his chapped lips, it was clear he wasn’t sleeping properly because of that damn farming.

She planned to send him back to Seoul this year, no matter what. She recalled how bewildered she had been three years ago when he quit a perfectly good job in the city and scraped together all his savings to move down to Sanghui-ri.

If he had adapted well to the change, it would have been one thing, but to her eyes, her grandson was simply not cut out for the countryside or the farming life.