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Episode 00.
00. Gang Sihu.
Elementary school days.
He happened to witness a theft.
He saw Hwijun, who was in the same class, take a wallet out of another friend's bag.
"Hwijun. Wouldn't it be better to return that wallet?"
"Gang Sihu. You! I'll kill you if you tell. Get lost. Punk."
Sihu had spoken quietly, but what came back was verbal abuse.
Since he wouldn't return it, Sihu quietly went and told the homeroom teacher.
Naturally, that friend denied it, claiming it wasn't him.
"Me? Why would I take it? It wasn't me. Teach! Sihu is framing me, I swear!"
At Hwijun's denial, Sihu was dumbfounded.
"……Hey. How is telling the truth framing?"
"You got evidence? Do you?"
"Huu…."
At the word evidence, Sihu had nothing to say.
'I thought it'd be enough to just say it…. To think he'd bring up evidence.'
Sihu bit his lip and looked at the friend who had lost the wallet.
He turned his gaze away.
Even looking around, there was no one who would listen to Sihu's story.
"……."
After that, Sihu was [marked] by Hwijun, who had taken the wallet.
Because of this incident, Sihu gradually became an outcast.
At first, he thought, 'It doesn't matter.'
'Once I graduate elementary school, I won't have to see him.'
After the middle school entrance ceremony.
When class assignments were made and he entered the classroom, Hwijun was sitting there.
"Yoo-hoo! Gang Sihu. We're in the same class?"
Beside Hwijun, who was smirking, were the kids who had hung out with him since elementary school.
"I'll count on you from now ooon, okay?"
"……."
He had thought he wouldn't have to see Hwijun after graduating elementary school.
It was a naive thought, a delusion.
The result of being in the same school and same class as Hwijun….
Isolation from 'peer communication.'
In other words, it led to ostracism and school violence.
Ostracism among the children.
When he came home, only a frigid air welcomed Sihu.
He didn't want to tell his parents.
To be precise, he didn't want to worry them.
His mother worked as a nurse in the intensive care unit of a university hospital.
Because of the shift work of a nurse, her commute hours were irregular.
His father was also a medical technician (clinical pathologist), so his commute hours differed from his mother's.
The 'ostracism' that had continued since entering middle school.
Knowing that if his parents found out he was being 'isolated,' they would surely be heartbroken.
After school, he came home letting out a sigh.
Creak—
He passed through the yard and opened the front gate.
"Huh?"
The smell of food wafting throughout the house.
The clattering sounds coming from the kitchen.
"Mom?"
"Huh? Son, you're home?"
After glancing at the clock in the living room, he opened his mouth, looking at his mother's face.
"Why are you so early today…?"
"You mean why I'm home early?"
As if reading Sihu's expression, which could only nod.
Mom spoke to her son.
"The person taking over the shift came early today, so Mom got off early. To eat with our son."
At his mother's words, Sihu felt some relief.
He stood blankly, looking at his mother and the kitchen.
"Hurry up and wash your hands."
At his mother's words, he somehow felt like tears might fall.
He quickly washed his hands and sat at the table.
Bubble bubble—.
A bubbling ddukbaegi was placed before him.
It was a savory doenjang-jjigae.
A modest table setting consisting of a rolled omelet and a few side dishes including pickled peppers.
He lifted his spoon and took a mouthful of the doenjang-jjigae.
Slurp—
"Ah…."
A whirlwind of heat and savory taste swirling in his mouth.
As that whirlwind passed down his esophagus, a wave of calmness washed over his heart.
'H-huk—'
His eyes welled up, overcome with emotion.
It felt as if everything that had happened at school was disappearing.
A warmth, a taste where fatigue melted away.
"Son, eat slowly. Is it good?"
He nodded, hiding the moisture in his eyes.
Sihu, whose heart was full of wounds from school violence and ostracism, felt his heart slowly healing.
Spoon and chopsticks moved slowly, then gradually faster.
His throat was tight.
The food his mother made.
Little did he know, it had seeped into the wounds of his heart like Madecassol.
* * *
After realizing that his mother's warm food melted his heart, Sihu's only hobby was
'cooking.'
At first, it was purely for his busy mother.
Third year of middle school, autumn.
He was cooking to eat dinner.
"Dad's home—"
Sihu, who had been preparing in the kitchen, came out to the living room.
"Welcome back."
The house was filled with the smell of kimchi-jjigae.
Father opened his mouth, taking in the smell permeating the house.
"Yeah. What is this smell?"
"I made kimchi-jjigae."
"Really? Let's eat together."
"Yes. I'll serve the rice."
Sihu sat across from his father at the table.
Slurp—
Father's eyes widened after taking a spoonful of the kimchi-jjigae Sihu had made.
"Th-this… Sihu made this? You didn't buy it?"
Sihu shook his head.
Seeing Sihu's reaction, father was genuinely amazed.
"Wow—our son really can cook? I'd believe it if you said this was sold at a restaurant."
The side dishes on the table were modest.
Kimchi-jjigae, rolled omelet, and mother's pickled perilla leaves.
Among them, Sihu had made two things: the kimchi-jjigae and the rolled omelet.
Slurp—.
"Kyaa—. This is really good? Sihu? Shouldn't Dad come home early to eat the food you make?"
Clunk—
"I'm home!"
"Looks like Mom is home."
At his father's words, Sihu got up from his seat and scooped another bowl of rice from the rice cooker.
He placed utensils, kimchi-jjigae, and white rice at his mother's seat.
"Huh? What is this?"
Father, who saw mother entering straight to the dining table after work.
"Well—. Sihu made kimchi-jjigae, and it's really delicious. Honey, hurry up and wash your hands and try it."
Mother, who washed her hands and sat at the table.
After taking a spoonful of the kimchi-jjigae Sihu had made, her eyes went wide.
"Sihu, did you buy this from a store?"
"No. I made it myself."
"See, honey? Am I right? It's really delicious, right?"
Mother nodded at father's words, then her eyes narrowed as she looked at Sihu.
"You made this? Really?"
At his mother's gaze, Sihu nodded.
At those words, mother's exclamation burst out.
"Wow—. Our son really can cook? How is your cooking so much tastier than mine?"
"Right? It's my first time eating this, but it's really delicious."
The parents busily ate the kimchi-jjigae and rolled omelet Sihu had made with relish.
"Wow—. When did our son grow up so much?"
"It was really delicious. Sihu."
The smiles of father and mother.
Sihu felt his mental fatigue disappearing from that sight.
A bubbling emotion felt in his chest.
If he had to express it, it would be [happiness].
That day, for the first time, Sihu was vividly feeling happiness.
While feeling that emotion, he heard voices.
"Son—you cook so well? If you opened a restaurant, a lot of people would come…."
"Right? It's really delicious. Our son is the best!"
Those words still remain in his mind.
He still can't forget the happiness of that day.
The sight of the two of them eating deliciously….
* * *
After graduating middle school, Sihu wanted to learn more about cooking, so he entered a culinary vocational high school.
There wasn't a single middle school or elementary school classmate who came there.
It was a somewhat comfortable feeling.
From his first year, Sihu showed outstanding talent in cooking.
"What the hell is with that guy? How does he cut ingredients that fast?"
"Wow—is he even human? That dude is totally sweeping up all the Korean cuisine scores?"
After practical class, the Korean cuisine instructor called him.
"Gang Sihu. Have you thought about entering a cooking competition?"
"A competition…?"
"If you enter, I think you'd definitely bring home at least one prize, in my opinion."
He had heard that no one had won a prize at a cooking competition starting from their first year.
Anxiousness and nervousness.
His heart was a little different from when he had been 'ostracized' by the children.
Moreover, it was a different feeling from his parents' trust.
Thus, Sihu participated in the high school Korean cuisine cooking competition.
The result was, naturally, victory.
After that as well, he won many prizes in the Korean cuisine category.
In the Korean cuisine division at the culinary vocational high school, he was second to none.
Whenever he entered a competition, he swept the prizes.
Even Korean cuisine masters kept their eyes on Sihu.
He was happy with his skills improving day by day through cooking.
However, what truly made him happy was when his parents ate the food Sihu made deliciously.
Sihu's small yet greatest joy was when he prepared home-cooked meals.
When his parents came home late, he neatly set the food on the table.
Even when they came home late at night or at dawn, they ate it really deliciously.
When Sihu saw the completely emptied bowls, his heart swelled with pride and indescribable emotions.
On both of their birthdays as well, Sihu prepared the food.
Every time he saw his parents happy, Sihu felt proud as well.
While spending his school days,
Third year of high school, summer vacation.
Sihu's eyes turned to cuisines other than Korean food.
'Korean food is good, but…I want to try learning other food too….'
The reason Sihu wanted to learn other food was simple.
While serving Korean food to others was nice, he wanted to learn food that was easily accessible to people close to him.
'I want to learn tonkatsu, pasta, pizza, and the like to make for my parents.'
Sihu's heart was always directed toward his parents.
He wanted the two of them to eat food other than Korean cuisine as well.
Since he was a minor, he received his parents' consent and headed to a Western-style restaurant in front of a university near his home.
The reason Sihu wanted to work part-time there was simple.
It was close to home, and it was a Western-style restaurant famous on social media.
Above all, when he occasionally ate alone here, the food was quite delicious.
Western-style restaurant [SeeYou]. Before his eyes, the owner of the restaurant, Yun Ganghun.
With a neat appearance and a low baritone voice, he asked Sihu.
"You're a third-year high schooler?"
"Yes."
Ganghun received the documents Sihu held out.
He began scanning the resume.
"Let me see—. You have a Korean cuisine chef's license, and you won a Korean cuisine cooking competition?!"
Ganghun let out a sharp gasp.
"What prizes did you receive to have this many?"
"Just because."
At Sihu's answer, Ganghun's gaze settled.
'Look at this kid? He's skilled and has an unusual look in his eyes.'
It was Ganghun who approved Sihu's part-time job.
"Come to work starting tomorrow. I'll pay you twelve thousand won per hour."
"Yes. Thank you."
Sihu bowed his head, the corners of his mouth rising.
'I need to learn here and make lots of delicious food for my parents.'
And so, Sihu began his part-time job at [SeeYou].
During the vacation while working the part-time job, Sihu truly learned a great deal.
Hayun's manner of serving customers.
The lines to say when serving food, and so on.
Sihu liked the atmosphere of the place as well.
Yun Ganghun.
Although he was the owner, he was always a kind boss to Sihu, telling him to call him hyung.
Ganghun's food, too, was kind—food that warmed the heart.
When he first ate it, he had almost teared up.
Because it was similar to the food his mother had made for him in middle school.
After eating Ganghun's food, Sihu made up his mind.
'I must do my practical training here.'
When summer vacation ended, Sihu held out an envelope to Ganghun, the owner of [SeeYou].
[Korea Culinary Vocational High School]
An envelope stamped with the school logo, the school's practical training permission documents.
Ganghun, having read the documents Sihu held out, stamped them.
Sihu felt that those modest yet happy times would continue forever.
If only that incident hadn't happened….
Thank you for reading.
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Episode 01
Episode 01. Gang Sihu (2)
That day was truly joyous.
It was the first day in a long time that the two of them rested together.
From the morning, Sihu had been excited at the suggestion of going on a day trip.
Clatter— clatter—
"What are you doing, son?"
"Packing a lunchbox."
"A lunchbox?"
"Lunchboxes eaten outdoors are delicious."
Watching Sihu bustle about the kitchen while even humming a tune, his mother sent him a proud gaze.
Sihu prepared a small five-tiered lunchbox.
The first tier was kimbap, commonly eaten on field trips.
Tiers two, three, and four held a regular lunchbox.
The side dishes his mother made that had melted Sihu's heart, he replicated deliciously in his own way.
A yellow rolled omelet close to golden in color, stir-fried kimchi with it, and round lettuce leaves.
Inside the lettuce were bite-sized round balls of rice and stir-fried spicy pork, with ssamjang and a piece of cheongyang pepper on top, a 'meat ssam' that could be eaten in one chopstick bite.
In a small sheet of foil beside it were braised potatoes and stir-fried anchovies.
Next to that was white rice.
In the middle of the rice was a layer of tteokgalbi.
On top of the rice, he made a pattern with black sesame seeds.
Sihu's heart expressed to his father and mother.
He packed the foods to eat with his family into the lunchbox.
Lastly, he prettily packed fruits to eat with his family.
Thwack—
After stacking all the tiers, he wrapped the lunchbox in a golden cloth.
Hoo—
Staring at the cloth for a moment, he quickly finished washing the dishes as well.
"Ready?"
"Yes!"
The family left the house and headed to an amusement park in Gyeonggi-do.
An amusement park he was visiting with his parents for the first time.
They rode many rides, and in the joyful time spent with his parents, Sihu's heart grew warm.
Before long, the family's bellies sent signals asking for food.
Gurgle—
The parents and Sihu looked at each other and smiled.
They headed to a place where they could eat the lunchbox.
The lunchbox Sihu had packed.
And the drinks his father had brought out.
At the opened lunchbox, mother's exclamation was heard.
"Wow—when did you prepare all this, son?"
"Please try it."
Sheepishly, Sihu handed over the chopsticks he had brought.
"Goodness—look at this lunchbox, it really looks delicious."
"Dad—buy me that lunchbox!"
"Mom, Mom, pack me a lunchbox like that for my kindergarten field trip too."
Passersby also murmured.
As talk of the lunchbox reached them from the surroundings, Sihu's parents demonstratively picked up the contents of the lunchbox.
Chew— chew—
Father ate a piece of the kimbap Sihu had made, and his eyes widened.
"Y-you! What did you do to this?"
His parents' praise. Attention. Love. All of it was medicine applied to Sihu's wounds.
While returning home after having fun with those two people.
Screeeech—
A heavy truck charged forward with the sound of intense road friction.
Kwaaaaang—
.
.
"Ugh… mm…."
When he came to his senses, he saw the white ceiling of a hospital.
Even looking around, his parents were not there.
At the memory that surfaced, Sihu headed to the mortuary, guided by a nurse.
There was pain in his arm, but seeing his parents was Sihu's priority.
The moment he saw the two of them, strength left his legs and memories of joy flashed through his mind.
Forgetting the pain, he approached his parents.
"Ah, ah…."
"Ah, ah… a-ah…."
He spat out words that couldn't form proper syllables and slumped to the floor.
A sense of isolation—that he was forever alone—engulfed Sihu.
* * *
In a corner funeral parlor of the funeral hall at Korea University Affiliated Hospital.
A young student in a hospital gown was sitting in the chief mourner's seat.
His gaze never moved from the portrait photo.
He looked beyond expressionless, his face cold and blank.
Footsteps—
He heard someone's breathing, but Sihu paid no attention.
"Gang Sihu!"
At someone's call, only his neck turned.
Yun Ganghun, the owner of [See You], and standing beside him, Korea University student Ju Hayun.
Seeing the two of them, Sihu's expression did not change.
Someone approached Ganghun and asked.
"Excuse me… you're Yun Ganghun, right?"
When Ganghun nodded, a woman who introduced herself as Sihu's homeroom teacher explained Sihu's situation.
Listening to Sihu's situation, Ganghun thought of his own mother.
Hoo—
The homeroom teacher let out a sigh and continued.
"The doctor said that due to severe mental shock, he seems to have developed temporary muteness."
Ganghun swallowed hard and looked around.
Whenever one or two of his parents' coworkers came and went, Sihu would be seen rising with difficulty to greet them.
"Does Sihu have no relatives?"
The homeroom teacher nodded and opened her mouth.
"Both parents were from orphanages…. The police informed me that there are no relatives."
"Hah-."
Ganghun glanced at Sihu and let out a deep sigh.
"How can… reality be more dramatic than a drama…. Hoo—."
At Hayun's murmuring and sigh, Ganghun nodded as well.
"Then what happens to Sihu?"
"He's still a minor…. He'll be sent to the Youth Protection Center."
Ganghun and Hayun's eyes widened.
Hayun asked, faltering.
"Th-then he goes to an orphanage?"
"I'm not sure either…."
Ganghun tried to recall Sihu's birthday.
He remembered that in four months, after his birthday passed, he would become an adult.
Thud—
Ganghun paid his respects to the deceased in front of the funeral parlor, bowed twice, then approached and sat next to Sihu.
That figure sitting with a cold, blank expression looked alien.
Ganghun could never forget Sihu of that day.
His mother's colleagues and his father's colleagues held the funeral on Sihu's behalf.
Only pitiful gazes remained on Sihu.
Unable to even see those gazes, Sihu's expression looked like an ice doll to Ganghun and Hayun.
Around the time the new year approached.
Sihu was discharged from the hospital.
"How's your arm?"
"……."
Hayun, who had come to pick up Sihu on his discharge date, treated him playfully as if trying to lighten the mood.
Without answering, Sihu slowly rotated his arm to show that it was fine.
The eyes of Hayun, who had come to greet him, widened slightly.
Sihu's condition—at 184 centimeters tall, he looked so emaciated that he couldn't have weighed even 50 kilograms.
Added to that was his expressionless face.
Seeing such a Sihu, Hayun opened her mouth.
"Let's go. I'll take you home."
Then, suddenly, Sihu's eyes caught sight of a child and mother heading toward the hospital.
A hot dog was in the child's hand.
Seeing that sight, Sihu's pupils trembled and he hunched his back like a shrimp.
"Urp—"
Sihu covered his mouth and ran to a corner.
Pat pat—
"Uu, uurp— uwaaack—"
Seeing that sight, Hayun's eyes grew as wide as a flower lantern.
Hoo—
A sigh escaped Hayun.
'This is why he shook his head saying he didn't want to take transportation and walked off….'
The doctor said that due to Sihu's mental shock, he could show severe reactions to 'eating' and 'transportation,' and asked them to be careful.
Watching Sihu walk with heavy steps, Hayun continued to sigh.
The gentle smile he sometimes showed, the appearance of occasionally making delicious food for Hayun—all of it was gone now, and it was pitiful.
'I heard he doesn't even have close friends at school. I should stay by his side when it's hard.'
That figure of Sihu walking.
It gave the feeling that he might collapse at any moment.
Every passerby glanced and stared at Sihu.
Hayun went up to the house where Sihu lived, and upon seeing the place, clicked her tongue.
"Why is it so high up? This is tough."
Muttering, she looked back.
Seeing Sihu slowly coming up, Hayun frowned in pity.
"Sihu-ya. Is this really your house?"
Sihu only nodded.
Soon, Sihu took out a key from his pocket and inserted it into the iron gate, turning it.
Click—
Screeeech—
Since the gate hadn't been opened for several months, the yard inside looked like ruins.
Pushing Sihu, who stood blankly staring at the house, she tried to enter.
Sihu shaking his head violently and backing away.
Seeing Sihu like that was heartbreaking.
Carefully comforting Sihu, they entered the house.
"……."
After a while, Sihu went into his room.
Only a frigid chill circulated throughout the house.
She followed Sihu into his room.
Sihu's room filled only with chill.
He sat on the edge of the bed, staring only at the floor.
"Hey. It's cold—you'll catch a cold like that?"
Hayun looked around to find the boiler switch.
"Ah! Found it. Single-family homes are originally cold, aren't they…."
After turning on the boiler switch, Hayun rubbed her arms.
Whir—
After turning on the boiler, Hayun texted Ganghun that they had arrived home.
Buzz—
—Hang in there a little longer. Hyung will come up when I'm done.
Rustle—
A shadow cast over Hayun.
A piece of paper approached Hayun's eyes.
[Hyung! Please go home. I want to be alone. Thank you for bringing me here today.]
Seeing Sihu holding out the paper, Hayun sighed.
"Alright, you must be tired, so rest. I'll come again later."
After Hayun left the house, Sihu was alone.
From his room, he blankly stared at the master bedroom and the kitchen.
"Huh? Son, you're home?"
"Sihu-ya. We're out of soy sauce. Go buy some soy sauce."
From the master bedroom and kitchen, his parents' figures rose like illusions and disappeared.
"Ah… ah…."
Not a proper voice, but mere sounds escaped Sihu's mouth.
Tears didn't come out either.
Hoo—
Sihu let out a sigh and closed his eyes.
* * *
"…Hey."
"……Hu…ya."
At the faint voice coming from somewhere, Sihu opened his eyes.
"Ah… son. You're awake."
It was his mother's voice.
On his mother's expression, she seemed to be holding something back.
"Ah… son. Listen carefully."
Mother glanced toward father.
Father, catching his breath roughly as he looked back at Sihu.
Even as drops of blood falling from his head entered his mouth, father opened his mouth with difficulty.
"S-Sihu. W-we're sorry… that we can't be with you… from now on…."
Together with mother's rough breathing heard beside his ear. He felt a warm hand fixing his hair.
"Sihu. Mom and Dad were happiest when you came to us. Even if we can't be with you from now on, don't cry…."
Father's voice sounded as if his breath might break off.
"Son… t-today too, the food was really delicious. Thank you…."
Father reached out his arm to stroke his son's head one last time.
Sihu only watched as the blood-soaked hand rose above his head.
Sihu's body trembled finely.
"S… Sihu. Sihu."
Father's hand fell.
As if mother had inherited that touch, she caressed Sihu's cheek.
Mother, whose breathing was not working properly, slowly opened her mouth.
Her eyes were filled entirely with Sihu.
"S… Sihu. Mom and Dad seem to be going far away. But we'll always be watching over you. Thank you for the delicious food…."
The frustration of leaving behind her only son lingered in her eyes.
Sihu saw resentment, worry, and pity flicker across mother's pupils.
The two people who had loved Sihu the most and given him warmth.
Sihu instinctively realized that this was the end.
"Ah, Mom. Dad. I love you. Don't go…. Don't go…."
At Sihu's tears, mother reached out and wiped them.
"Ah, son, don't cr…y."
As the hand seemed to lose strength and slip down from his forehead, Sihu grabbed it and said.
"Mom—! Mom—?. Yes. I won't cry, open your eyes. Huh? Mom! Mom!"
At Sihu's call, mother barely lifted the corners of her lips and opened her mouth with difficulty.
"S… Sihu. Ah… Mom… will always root for you… from afar… your dream… always you… love…."
The unfinished words and—thud—mother's hand fell powerlessly.
Hurk—
Sihu opened his eyes in shock and looked around.
Sihu, his whole body drenched with cold sweat.
He clutched his blanket tightly.
Tight—
A sense of futility and loss as if his soul was being torn away.
The isolation surrounding Sihu, who was not yet an adult, weighed down heavily upon him.
Then,
A strange sound broke the silent atmosphere and reached his ears.
Ding— dong—.
Thank you for reading.
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