Chapter 106
When overwhelming emptiness struck, Hyeon-woo would put on his outer clothes and run outside aimlessly. Running until he was out of breath would clear his busy mind, leaving it blank and thoughtless. That moment was the most peaceful time of the day for Hyeon-woo.
As usual, after finishing his run, he entered a large convenience store nearby. He paid for a cold isotonic drink and sat at a table in the corner of the store to catch his breath.
Just as he was about to open the drink’s lid:
“…How long do you expect it will take for Legatum to be commercialized?”
“We’re planning for this year. We’ve already completed safety verifications, and among the remaining procedures, the patent and…”
“Oh, that startled me.”
Hyeon-woo, who had instinctively tensed up at the unfamiliar voice, relaxed his shoulders and finally looked up at the monitor mounted on the convenience store ceiling. An elderly researcher from Taeryeong Pharmaceuticals, wearing a white coat, was answering a reporter’s questions.
“The name of this new drug has aroused a lot of curiosity. What does Legatum mean?”
“Legatum means ‘legacy’ in ancient Latin. It was named Legatum in the sense of being humanity’s great legacy.”
“I see. Thank you for your answer. Recently, among people…”
Hyeon-woo swallowed a bitter laugh and drank the beverage in his hand. It was amusing how he tensed up every time he heard news about the suppressant, even though he knew Tae-geon wouldn’t appear in the media unless it was for a government audit.
The whole world was abuzz with Taeryeong Group’s new drug. Tae-geon’s face frequently appeared not only on the homepages of various portal sites but also in newspapers and magazines at newsstands. Due to the significant difference in views between articles with and without his photos, there was competition to feature his face everywhere. As a result, Tae-geon would infiltrate his field of vision as soon as his guard was down.
Even though he knew Tae-geon was no longer relevant to him, his heart would sink when he unexpectedly encountered traces of Tae-geon. The unhealed wound still stung. However, Hyeon-woo thought it was meaningful progress that the invisible wound had now become visible.
He would no longer neglect himself or engage in self-blame. He would accept his imperfect self as is and take time to wait. Until the wound healed. Until he could become numb to Tae-geon’s presence before his eyes.
Hyeon-woo had already found an answer on his own once before. When fundamental questions about life and overwhelming emptiness struck, he would run out and sprint aimlessly.
As he pushed his body to the limit until his mind was empty, his lungs would feel like bursting, and every muscle in his body would scream. But then, as if by magic, at some point, the pain would suddenly subside, and a miraculous euphoria would fill its place.
He had experienced the “second wind” that comes after passing the point of exhaustion. His heart would beat strongly and hotly, as if to prove it was still alive, resonating through his entire chest.
So he would surely overcome this pain too. He would believe in himself and endure.
Hyeon-woo got up, threw the empty drink bottle in the trash, and left the convenience store.
*
“I’m home.”
“Welcome back.”
He had run for a long time today too. The weather had become noticeably hotter, with sweat forming on his forehead even after a short run. As spring faded, the air became hot and humid.
As Hyeon-woo entered and took off his windbreaker, he saw his parents sitting on the sofa, exchanging conversation with rather serious expressions as they gestured for him to come over. He cautiously approached them.
His parents, who had never asked about his future plans or career until now, carefully opened the conversation.
“What do you want to do about school?”
“Ah.”
Hyeon-woo quickly calculated the dates in his head. He had submitted a leave of absence in November, which meant he had been wasting time doing nothing for over half a year now. It was time to start setting new goals for the future.
His parents had never been satisfied with the university he had applied to, which was far below his academic abilities, due to Tae-geon’s insistence. Now that Tae-geon, who had promised to share all future plans from admission to graduation, was no longer by his side, there was no obligation or reason to return to that school.
“Do you want to go back to school?”
“…”
“Hyeon-woo, Mom will fully respect your decision. So please tell us what you want.”
What I want.
Hyeon-woo’s eyes sank calmly.
Until now, the answers to the choices presented to him had been based on Tae-geon, not himself. Like the moon orbiting the Earth, he had mindlessly surrendered to the gravitational pull that drew him in. Only after leaving Tae-geon’s protective fence did Hyeon-woo realize how complacent those years had been.
For the first time, he faced numerous crossroads of choice. He had decided to have and raise a child of his own will, and spent days contemplating how to live his future life while engaging in economic activities for livelihood.
While the fact that a moment’s choice would determine the direction and weight of his future life was frightening, Hyeon-woo felt more intensely alive than ever in the midst of this fierce anguish.
What kind of life have I been living?
Whenever he pondered this question, Hyeon-woo felt ashamed of his past, lived without much thought.
“…I won’t go back to school.”
His mother nodded.
“Then do you have other plans? Like taking the entrance exam again, or a dream you want to achieve?”
“…”
“It doesn’t have to be grand. If there’s anything you want to try or learn, feel free to tell us.”
Hyeon-woo’s lips moved, but he couldn’t give any answer. There was no other purpose behind his decision not to return to school.
His mother handed him a yellowish-brown envelope. Hyeon-woo’s eyes widened as he pulled out a heavy stack of documents from the envelope with a puzzled look.
[U.S. Investment Immigration Guide]
Behind it were application documents for major state universities, including the Ivy League. His mother gently patted Hyeon-woo’s shocked shoulders.
“We’re not forcing you at all. We just wanted to let you know that this is one of the options you can choose.”
“…”
“You must be hungry. Your aunt made delicious braised chicken before she left work. I’ll heat it up for you, so go wash up.”
Hyeon-woo’s eyes, which had been watching his mother’s back as she got up from the sofa and disappeared into the dining room, turned to his father sitting across from him. As their eyes met, his father nodded and smiled.
Immigration to a foreign country.
He knew what this meant. It contained his parents’ will to leave behind everything they had built up over a lifetime and start anew in a foreign land.
How much worry and anguish must they have gone through to offer this option of immigration to him? Somehow, the shadows under his father’s eyes, caked with fatigue, seemed even darker at this moment.
“Hyeon-woo, what are you doing standing there? It’s almost ready, so go wash your hands first.”
His mother, appearing with a ladle in her hand, urged Hyeon-woo, who was still sitting on the sofa.
“Yes, I understand.”
Hyeon-woo briefly replied and got up to head to the bathroom.
