NOVEL NEXT 1
1
[Secretary Kim: This is Daryul University Hospital Funeral Home, 2440 Airport Avenue, Gangseo District, Seoul.]
[Secretary Kim: Although it’s late, I offer my sincere condolences.]
The message I’d looked at countless times remained as hazy as fog.
Even while rushing to the airport after skipping the pre-meeting for a fashion show I’d spent months preparing for, even while getting my ticket issued with nothing but a passport in hand—still, Doyun couldn’t make out the words on his phone screen.
At gate number 3, he exchanged brief greetings with Kim Seong-hun, his grandfather’s secretary. After a long drive in a black sedan, they arrived at the funeral home within the large hospital where his mother had taken her last breath.
Secretary Kim, with a black suit draped over one arm, led Doyun to the restroom. Seemingly troubled by Doyun’s vacant expression, he struggled to speak.
“Please change in the restroom, though it may be uncomfortable.”
“……”
“I hate to mention this, but… the changing rooms are already surrounded by reporters who arrived early. They’re determined to photograph the hidden son. Kim Yeo-jin wouldn’t have… and the Chairman wouldn’t want things revealed this way either.”
“……”
“Yes, of course, Seo Doyun wouldn’t want that either.”
Secretary Kim nodded as he looked into Doyun’s unfocused brown eyes. Unable to hear anything, Doyun kept his mouth tightly shut and followed where he was led.
Click. The door sound echoed loudly. Only then did Doyun realize he had received the suit from Secretary Kim.
After slowly blinking a couple of times, the darkish space came into view.
A single toilet in the center, cold brown panel walls, dingy gray tiles, and a scratched metal toilet paper holder.
Among them, Doyun couldn’t take his eyes off the toilet paper holder. His stupid face reflected on the cracked cover. For someone who had just received news of his mother’s death, it showed no emotion whatsoever.
Suddenly, an inexplicable nauseating smell pierced his nostrils. Ugh, after dry-heaving, Doyun lost his balance and staggered heavily.
Unable to bear it any longer, he carelessly tossed the suit aside and frantically rattled the door handle. He escaped the narrow bathroom stall and ran mindlessly.
Only when he was completely out of breath did he take in his surroundings. Turning his head toward a faint light, he spotted a convenience store standing alone on the long sidewalk. As if hypnotized, Doyun headed toward it.
The man half-lying at the counter was yawning while looking at his phone. Probably not expecting customers so late at night, he didn’t notice even as Doyun approached the door.
After observing him briefly, Doyun carefully opened the door. Ding-a-ling, the bell rang above his head. Only then did the man sense someone’s presence and slowly got up.
“Welcome.”
At the indifferent voice, Doyun’s shoulders flinched. He’d opened the door without thinking, but now that he’d been greeted, he couldn’t just leave.
After hesitating for a moment, Doyun pointed his index finger at something behind the counter. It was a brand of cigarettes with considerable stock among the many densely arranged on the wall.
“Camel… Mild, please.”
“That’ll be 4,500 won.”
The man reached for the cigarettes without turning around. Doyun rummaged through his pockets looking for his wallet. Only then did he realize that in his rush to return to Korea, he didn’t have even a single 1,000 won bill.
With no choice, he opened a payment app he couldn’t remember when he’d last used. As expected, the account had long been set to dormant.
Doyun sheepishly showed the phone screen while checking the man’s reaction.
“Um, my payment is locked right now, so please wait a bit…”
“Ah, yes. Take your time.”
The man cut him off, indicating this wasn’t unusual. As if agreeing, from the man’s phone came the words, “That was reporter Kim Da-young.”
Doyun glanced at the news while frantically moving his fingers. As he attempted his final login.
– Now for our next news. Last September, amid growing interest in the Daejeon Metro Engineering City development, Director Han Yujae of Haedam Hotel, who has been actively seeking large-scale investments, received from Daejeon City…
“……”
His thumb stopped abruptly. It was because an unexpected name had reached his ears.
As Doyun froze stiffly, he lowered his gaze. Yet the anchor continued to mention him.
‘Director Han Yujae of Haedam Hotel.’
Just the name brought back a face he’d missed. The title attached to the name felt incredibly unfamiliar.
While suddenly realizing how much time had passed.
“Excuse me, are you going to pay or not?”
The sharp voice woke Doyun from his daze. Belatedly coming to his senses, he hastily paid for the cigarettes and pulled the door handle.
As he left the convenience store holding the cigarette pack with a red camel on it, the sign flickered as if telling him to get lost. Somehow he felt driven out onto the chilly sidewalk.
Doyun glanced at the sign and slowly moved his feet. Meanwhile, whether catching a cold or not, his throat stung as if he’d swallowed a handful of needles.
The only place to return to was the funeral home. Perhaps because this fact didn’t sit well with him, Doyun sighed deeply and took a cigarette from the pack and put it in his mouth.
But once it was in his mouth, his tongue felt heavy. Doyun snapped the cigarette in half and turned back toward the restroom.
The evidence of his trance-like escape was scattered on the floor. Someone seemed to have come by in the meantime, as the shirt lying there was full of wrinkles.
After roughly brushing it off with his hands, he changed clothes and left the stall. The figure reflected in the dingy bathroom mirror looked exactly like a foreigner.
The funeral hall he struggled to enter felt devoid of human warmth. Unfamiliar with funeral experiences in general, let alone as chief mourner, Doyun hesitantly stood before the memorial portrait.
His mother, wearing a bright blouse and with a gentle smile, greeted Doyun. The red rose in her blouse had many similarities to her life.
Kim Yeo-jin, a leading Korean actress, had lived a more splendid life than anyone. However, as Seo Doyun’s mother, she had always lived in the shadows.
If she hadn’t met an unremarkable alpha, intoxicated by the title of a progressive female omega, if she hadn’t made that one-night mistake, she would still be loved as the nation’s actress.
The unplanned pregnancy proved that she too was an omega swayed by pheromones.
Despite bravely speaking out in an era when views toward omegas were unfavorable, the public no longer loved her for failing to save herself.
Sadly, Doyun’s birth, which should have been celebrated, became the cause of her withering.
“…I’m here.”
The unwelcome greeting echoed gloomily. As always, no answer came.
There was no reaction—no bursting into tears, no screaming, no desperate longing for the departed.
Perhaps due to the many ups and downs in his life, Doyun felt numb even to the sorrow he should have felt as a son.
Just as his eyes were becoming dry and sore, Secretary Kim, who had been away, carefully entered the funeral hall. Behind him followed an old man who looked unchanged from ten years ago.
The man who entered the incense altar with his back perfectly straight was Doyun’s maternal grandfather and Chairman of Aseon Industries, Kim Hong-sik.
Doyun stood up when he belatedly recognized him, but Kim Hong-sik ignored his only remaining blood relative and stood before the memorial portrait.
After staring for a long time at his daughter who had left before him, an unfilial act, he stoically offered incense. Despite being the chief mourner, he seemed like a perfect stranger.
“Come back home. I’ll soon create a position in the entertainment division, so start showing your face at the company.”
The metallic voice pierced through Doyun’s chest like a blade. His tone was chillingly cold for words spoken to his own grandson.
Doyun couldn’t bring himself to reply. Even after all these years, he felt he had no right to hold his head up.
The old man looked at him with disapproval.
“Give up that modeling nonsense too. I’ve turned a blind eye to that charade for ten years—you should know when to yield.”
“…I…”
“Or do you want to end up like your mother?”
“……”
“Will you also die like that?”
A deep shadow colored the voice discussing death. Once again, a nauseating smell seemed to vibrate inside him.
“…Like mother, like son, what’s the point of such clownery.”
The old man gazed at the memorial portrait with resentful eyes, asking how she could leave such a thing behind. Unlike the depressed old man, the mother in the photograph simply smiled brightly.
That smile seemed to mock Kim Hong-sik, who had always denied Doyun’s existence. Thinking this was the last of a child he resented, the old man couldn’t turn his gaze away for a long time.
“Stop arguing and come home. Otherwise, you’ll never have a place to set foot in Korea again.”
Not only the work you cherished, but not even a place for your body. With that cracked voice, the old man turned away.
Even as he slowly left the incense altar, the old man’s sunken eyes remained fixed on the glamorous memorial portrait.