#120
It seems there wasn’t a bigger incident than this that year.
21 years ago, when Ho-woo was 7 years old, the records of that year were filled with articles related to Oh-yul’s rampage.
“What are you looking at?”
Seong Ha-young, who briefly glanced at the laptop screen Ho-woo was intently studying, let out a short “Hmm.”
“I’m looking for something.”
“The Taeho Group incident?”
Taking a sip of hot coffee from her mug, she perched on the edge of the desk.
“I was wondering what you were doing during every break… Old articles, I see.”
“This wasn’t what I was looking for, but it was the first thing I saw.”
She looked at the laptop screen and casually replied, “I suppose it would be.” She briefly closed her eyes as if recalling past memories, then continued speaking.
“It was a massive incident. Not only was it the first manifestation at 9 years old, but the appearance of an esper who could use abilities from two different categories was a huge issue in itself. Plus, it was the Taeho Group.”
Taeho Group.
It was a company that had been around since the founding of this city. Founded by the first chairman, Kwon Tae-hwi, this company had provided a lot of help when the city was initially being built. That’s why it occupied a page in the history textbooks taught in schools.
Moreover, almost everyone had used products manufactured by the Taeho Group. They produced everything from the most basic household items to food, electronics, and even goods imported through trade with other cities.
…Wait a minute.
Ho-woo froze as he suddenly realized something.
Small? A small company?
Laughing in disbelief, Ho-woo checked another article. At least the chairman and his wife of the Taeho Group were publicly known figures, so traces of them remained even in old articles.
Chairwoman Kwon Yeon-hee, and her husband Oh I-hoon.
Their child, Oh-yul.
If this was a small company, then the company he used to work for was at the level of a corner store.
Seong Ha-young, looking down at Ho-woo’s head as he stared intently at the laptop screen, placed her empty coffee mug on the table.
“That fame helped Oh-yul esper.”
“Helped?”
“Think about it. An orphaned child inheriting hundreds of billions in assets overnight. And he himself was a highly valuable esper for research, carrying the title of the youngest manifested.”
Like sweet sugar water constantly swarmed by ants. That must have been what young Oh-yul was like. Ho-woo easily imagined.
“If it weren’t for the excessive attention, he would have lost all his money to the corporation and his body would have become an experimental subject.”
She spoke decisively, as if certain. Ho-woo felt conflicted. He had started this investigation to find clues about his own memories, but instead he had uncovered Oh-yul’s past. Moreover, there weren’t really any other notable articles besides this.
Ho-woo sighed and closed the internet browser. He had hoped to prepare himself a little. No, he wanted to make his final resolution before opening his memories.
There are never only good memories. Even the memory of being tormented by that awful team leader just before quitting wasn’t a particularly good one, nor was the misery and envy he felt as a child on a school picnic, holding a single roll of 1000-won kimbap wrapped in crinkled foil while looking at other children’s lunchboxes.
And…
A strange anxiety came over him. What if his mother was one of the people involved in Oh-yul’s incident? The dates matched up too perfectly to dismiss the suspicion. Moreover, among the incidents that occurred that year, the one involving Oh-yul was the largest. With many casualties.
Ho-woo nervously bit his fingernail. Crunch, the hard nail broke off in his front teeth.
No, Oh-yul isn’t a mental esper.
The esper in his memory had purple eyes. So it couldn’t be him, Ho-woo repeated to himself several times.
But, the only way to be sure is to check the memories, isn’t it?
Ho-woo closed his eyes. The long corridor and open doors appeared clearly in his mind. And at the end, the tightly closed black door existed, slightly ajar as if beckoning to Ho-woo.
With light steps, he swiftly moved down the long corridor. His fingertips touched the door handle, cold enough to sting. If he just applied a little force, the door would easily open.
Standing close to the door, he heard a very small whisper through the gap.
The little duckling was so sad.
Why was he born an ugly gray?
If only he had been yellow like the other ducks, he wouldn’t have been bullied.
As if Oh-yul was reading to him, the young voice spoke carefully, as if reading a book. Sometimes, when stumbling over unfamiliar words, a small laugh from someone else could be heard.
That voice and laughter felt like subtle pressure, as if asking how long he thought he could ignore this.
Though he had always avoided or turned away from things that were not easy to resolve or troublesome, this time he had a feeling he couldn’t escape. A premonition that someday, he would have to open his memories.
The giggling laughter of a child kept echoing in his head.
In the end, Ho-woo couldn’t shake off that laughter. Even when the short break ended and he started recording again, the auditory hallucination ringing in his head eroded his concentration.
“Ah…”
Ho-woo stared blankly at the hand grip meter that had been crushed miserably in his hand. This wasn’t what he had intended. Perhaps because he had unconsciously gripped it tightly, the metal handle was dented. He had been trying to control his gradually increasing strength while taking measurements, so crushing the hand grip meter clearly meant he hadn’t been concentrating.
“Ho-woo. I think you should take a break.”
Seong Ha-young unceremoniously pushed Ho-woo out of the lab. Shoved outside by her, Ho-woo let out a deep sigh. As Seong Ha-young said, Ho-woo couldn’t concentrate on the experiment at all. Of course, the results obtained in that state couldn’t be accurate.
But he couldn’t push his worries to a corner of his mind. Even though he thought he should concentrate, they kept coming up and swirling in his head.
Stepping out of the building to catch his breath, Ho-woo spotted a vending machine in the corner and rummaged through his pocket. Fortunately, he found a 1000-won bill.
As he inserted the money, the buttons on the vending machine lit up. Ho-woo was about to press the canned coffee button while rolling his stiff neck.
If only an arm hadn’t reached in from behind and pressed the vitamin drink button.
“Uh…”
Clank-!
The drink fell noisily. Ho-woo blinked slowly with a dumbfounded expression. His brain briefly suspended judgment at the sudden situation before belatedly grasping what had happened.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
The arm resting heavily on his shoulder felt familiar. The voice whispering in his ear was quite recognizable.
“Ms. Joo Si-yeo?”
“Hi~”
Joo Si-yeo grinned, waving her other hand lightly. Her once bright yellow eyes had returned to black. Her expression and gestures seemed more relaxed and comfortable.
“Why so formal with ‘Ms. Joo Si-yeo’? Call me casually, casually.”
“…I’ll try to do that gradually.”
“Hmm, alright. Do as you wish. It’s not my loss anyway.”
Moon Jin-hyuk at least has some cute aspects, maybe because he’s young. Finding Joo Si-yeo quite awkward to deal with, Ho-woo smiled awkwardly as he took out the vitamin drink.
“Even if I wanted to buy you something, I don’t have any money right now… Would you like this instead?”
Since he had wanted to drink coffee anyway, not the vitamin drink, Ho-woo offered the drink to Joo Si-yeo. She accepted the bottle without hesitation and stared at Ho-woo’s face.
“Do you have something on your mind?”
“Pardon?”
“It’s written all over your face.”
Crack-
The sound of the vitamin drink’s cap opening was crisp. Joo Si-yeo downed the small bottle in one go, then acted as if she was doing him a great favor.
“I could lend an ear for a bit.”
Her manner was so confident that Ho-woo thought he had asked Joo Si-yeo to listen to his troubles. She looked around, then took a seat on a nearby bench. It became awkward to refuse Joo Si-yeo’s offer.
“I can’t give you great advice, but I can at least listen.”
Joo Si-yeo patted the seat next to her. Feeling somewhat lighter, Ho-woo sat beside her and took a breath. A cool breeze gently swept through Ho-woo’s light brown hair.
“Actually, I don’t know how to put it into words.”
Ho-woo knew better than anyone that this was a worry born from his bad habit. Ignoring and covering up problems was what he did best, so he wore blinders and turned away from his surroundings.
That’s why he didn’t ask anymore.
What happened to Bae Gi-hong and Gi Hyeon-deok, who were dealt with according to the rules.
What happened to the kidnappers they had held in the southern city.
And he didn’t ask about Kim Dong-cheol, who left the city the day Oh-yul met someone.
He didn’t ask about Oh-yul.
He tried to ignore the claws he had extended and only see his kind side.
Even now, it’s the same.
Although he knew this memory would be the biggest turning point in his life, he just wanted to bury it. He had lived well without these memories until now, so did he really need to take this difficult path?
Can’t I just bury everything and live on?
