Dear Eddert - Chapter 2

South Korea, 20XX.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear daughter, happy birthday to you!”

“Dad! Thank you!”

Hye-mi clapped her hands and blew out the red candles in one swift breath. Just as the living room lights flickered on, her mom smacked her hard on the back with her palm.

“And what exactly have you done to deserve a birthday meal?”

“Ouch, that hurts….”

Hye-mi caught her breath, thinking, Mom’s hand is as sharp as ever.

“Why are you hitting her on her birthday?” her dad said, looking at his daughter with pity as he tried to scold her mom, though it was a futile effort.

“Because I’m frustrated! Look at other kids her age—they’re getting their lives together. But not her! She gave up on studying ages ago, isn’t good at anything, and even after I pulled some strings to get her a part-time job, she quit after just three days! I was too embarrassed to even look Park at that chicken shop!”

Her mom, still venting, shoved the cake back into its box. Hye-mi, unfazed, responded casually.

“That kitchen guy was weird, I told you. Anyway, can we eat the cake now?”

Park, the owner of the chicken shop, was a friend of her mom’s from her regular salon. She’d given Hye-mi, who had been holed up at home since graduating high school without a proper job, a position as a server. It seemed like a good arrangement at first.

“You’re the weirdest one in the world!” her mom yelled, slamming the refrigerator door shut. “How do you expect to survive in the real world if you can’t even handle a little pushback?”

By her third day, the chicken shop’s kitchen worker, who kept glancing at her while frying chicken, had brushed his crotch against her backside as he passed by. Disgusted, Hye-mi had quit on the spot. Now, she muttered under her breath, barely audible.

“It wasn’t pushback… You don’t even know what happened, and it’s always my fault.”

Looking back, she regretted caring about Park’s relationship with her mom. Whether he was Park’s brother-in-law or not, she should’ve just called him out as a creep, yelled her head off, and stormed out.

“I don’t need to know the details; it’s obvious what happened. Someone probably said something you didn’t like, and you got annoyed, like, ‘Ugh, whatever, I’m out of here.’ Is that how you’re going to live in this harsh world? Are you planning to mooch off your mom and dad forever?”

She had even bowed politely and explained that the job wasn’t a good fit before leaving, but all she got in return was her mom’s criticism. Tears welled up in Hye-mi’s eyes, a sudden wave of frustration washing over her.

“Oh, now you’re crying? What for? You think you did something worth crying about? Ugh, I’m going to lose it!”

“Come on, that’s enough,” her dad interjected, trying to calm her mom down.

As usual, the morning argument at the dining table revolved around the household’s only child—a young, unemployed woman who, as her mom put it, was the family’s biggest headache.

“Did I ever push you to get into a top-tier university? Did I ask you to make me rich and happy? All I ever wanted was for you to take care of yourself! Instead of lying around all day glued to your phone, go out and meet people!”

Friends, like everything else, cost money. On a tight budget, Hye-mi had been staying home and keeping to herself to save as much as possible. But her mom, oblivious to her struggles, ladled out seaweed soup with a sigh, one long breath after another.

“Other people seem to date just fine. There’s nothing wrong with you… actually, no, there’s clearly a lot wrong with you. What’s the point of looking decent on the outside if all you do is wander around feeding stray cats? Why can’t you do something productive for once?”

Hye-mi’s brows furrowed, her expression darkening as she scowled.

“Those cats will die without me, Mom.”

Her mom couldn’t understand. The summers were unbearably hot, and the winters bone-chillingly cold. By taking care of the stray cats, Hye-mi also prevented them from ripping open trash bags, keeping the neighborhood peaceful. But to her mom, this productive effort was nothing but a waste of time.

“You’re going to be the death of me!”

“Dear, just stop it already, okay? Hye-mi, hurry up and eat.”

Her dad, ever kind, tried to mediate, but he never dared stand up to her mom. Moments like these made Hye-mi feel even more bitter.

“You’d be happier if I wasn’t around, wouldn’t you?”

The words slipped out before her brain could stop them. Her mom, wearing an apron and holding a ladle, narrowed her eyes sharply. Her scowl deepened into an expression that said she was ready to smack her with the ladle if she pushed her any further.

“What did you just say?”

Hye-mi knew things would escalate if she said anything else. But the injustice was too much to bear. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared defiantly at her mom.

“Isn’t it true? If I were dead, you’d have one less problem.”

“And that’s something you say to your parents? Right to my face?!”

Thwack.

She had crossed the line. The ladle struck her head, and soup—glistening with droplets of sesame oil—ran down her forehead and cheek.

“Dear!” her dad cried.

Everyone had their limits. With bits of seaweed stuck to her eyebrow, Hye-mi shot up from the table.

“Don’t bother looking for me!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t!”

She scrubbed her now-burning nose bridge with the back of her hand, marched to the door, and shoved her bare feet into her sneakers without bothering to untangle them. Her mom’s shrill voice pierced her ears as she yanked the door open.

“If you leave now, don’t even think about coming back!”

That was music to her ears. She wouldn’t come back. Not now, not ever.

Breathing heavily, Hye-mi stormed down the stairs of their third-floor apartment. For the first time, she felt grateful that the Han River bridge was only a 15-minute walk away.

You are not alone. Hahaha, laugh it off. The world is beautiful.

The slogans pasted along the bridge railing to prevent suicides only made her feel mocked.

Being humiliated even by her own parents on her birthday, she couldn’t see a single reason to stay alive. Hye-mi had made up her mind—she would throw herself into the river and end it all.

***

Hye-mi ultimately didn’t go through with it.

Standing on the Han River bridge, the wind brushing against her face, she looked down at the deep, rippling blue water below. It seemed impossibly vast and terrifying. The thought of drowning in it felt inevitable. While it was a bit embarrassing to abandon her attempt out of fear, no one else knew of her decision, so it didn’t matter. Hye-mi had always been lenient with herself.

One of the reasons she couldn’t go through with it was that she’d rushed out of the house wearing mismatched sneakers. She didn’t want to leave the world broadcasting her carelessness to everyone.

“Oh, my daughter! Even her socks and underwear are mismatched, and now she leaves this world as clumsy as ever!”
Her mom’s nagging voice echoed in her mind. She feared she might end up as a ghost, stuck wandering the afterlife, haunted by her mother’s complaints.

Thinking of reasons not to die, they began bubbling up endlessly. She worried about the five stray cats she fed regularly. The tuxedo cat, with its adorable markings that looked like black bean paste smeared on its face, was even pregnant. She had to see Jjajang deliver her kittens before leaving.

For this reason, and countless others that piled up in her mind, Hye-mi decided to abandon her suicide attempt. The only problem was that she had stormed out without her wallet, leaving her with nowhere else to go. Not that it mattered much—her bank account was already drained.

With no better option, she trudged back home. Her parents were already out at work. They ran the neighborhood’s oldest bathhouse and hadn’t taken a single holiday, even during national holidays. Though she could imagine how they must see their only child, she knew life rarely turned out the way parents wanted, especially when it came to their kids.

“There’s soup in the fridge. Heat it up and eat,” read a text from her mom, who somehow knew she was home. For a moment, Hye-mi wondered if there were hidden cameras in the house. She glanced suspiciously at the ceiling, which was, of course, bare.

Her stomach growled loudly. The unintended long walk had left her famished. “I want to die, but tteokbokki sounds good right now.” That saying, popular somewhere, resonated deeply with her today.

Opening the fridge, she found it full of her favorite dishes: tofu and tuna patties, japchae with crunchy wood ear mushrooms, sweet and savory bulgogi, and spicy braised mackerel with aged kimchi. For now, she decided to eat first and think later.

Slurp.

The chewy seaweed in the soup tasted rich and nutty. She scooped up large spoonfuls of the well-simmered seaweed soup with tender brisket and shoveled them into her mouth. Once her stomach was full, the lingering gloom in her heart lifted ever so slightly.

“It’s not like I’m completely thoughtless,” she mused.

Since childhood, Hye-mi had never excelled at academics, sports, or the arts. She didn’t have the looks to be scouted on the streets, nor any standout physical attributes.

But not everyone in this world was extraordinary. Only about 1% of people are truly exceptional. The remaining 99%—people like her—exist so that the special ones can shine. Without the ordinary, there could be no extraordinary.

Swaah.
Feeling oddly philosophical, Hye-mi started washing the dishes. She scrubbed each plate until it squeaked clean, dried them with a spotless dish towel, and stacked them neatly in the cupboard. The sight of the tidy dishes lifted her spirits a bit more.

Her family’s house, nearing 30 years old, remained clean and well-kept thanks to her mom’s obsession with cleanliness. While her mom nagged incessantly, her cooking was undeniably excellent. There was truth in the saying that leaving home was the road to hardship. At home, even if her mom scolded and smacked her, she still made sure there was food on the table. And her dad, though often subdued by her mom’s domineering personality, was warm and family-oriented.

Hye-mi began activating her mental “positivity circuits.” One of her strengths was her ability to bounce back quickly, no matter the situation. Though her fiery temper sometimes led to fights with friends, she was always quick to apologize, ensuring conflicts never lasted long.

For now, life seemed a bit brighter, one step at a time.

When Hye-mi once turned in her answer sheet half-blank because she didn’t realize there was a back page to the test, she simply laughed it off. Her grades couldn’t sink any lower, and failing a test wasn’t the end of the world.

Getting stressed out would only make her hungry—just like she had been earlier that morning.

Her mom often criticized her easygoing and optimistic personality, calling her lazy and carefree. But Hye-mi thought, What’s wrong with letting things slide? If everyone in the world were like her, there would be no conflicts, and the world would undoubtedly be a more peaceful place.

“I can just take over the family business someday, can’t I?”

Hye-mi’s father owned a small, old bathhouse that had been in the family for two generations. Despite its age, the bathhouse thrived, thanks to her dad’s warm and friendly demeanor, which made regulars feel right at home. Her mom’s meticulous nature kept the place clean and well-maintained. If not for the two of them, the bathhouse would have surely folded when a 24-hour mega spa opened in a nearby building.

“If they’d let me work part-time at the bathhouse, I’d do a good job. I could help with scrubbing services, cleaning, or even just boil eggs for the sauna snack counter.”

Hye-mi let out a long sigh. If restaurants could be passed down through generations, why couldn’t a bathhouse? To her, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea. Yet her mom was always desperate to push her out into the world instead of letting her stay at home.

Running a bathhouse wasn’t exactly easy, though. There were troublesome drunk patrons who caused a ruckus, frequent incidents of theft or lost items, and even more serious issues like hidden cameras or harassment, which had occasionally sent her father to the police station. There had also been accidents—like when a patron with poor eyesight slipped on a bar of soap, splitting the back of their head, and had to be rushed to the emergency room.

After experiencing so many ups and downs, her parents wanted something different for their daughter. They hoped she would gain valuable life experiences and grow through working in different fields. But Hye-mi didn’t fully understand their intentions.

“Agh, I don’t know anymore,” she muttered.

Feeling the gloom creeping back in, she shook her head vigorously and opened the fridge. Sugary treats were the best cure for a bad mood. She placed a slice of cake on a pretty plate, then turned back and added another slice. A strong Americano from the café at the corner would have paired perfectly, but her light wallet made that a dream for another day.

It was her birthday today—the same day she had walked to the Han River bridge and come back with a renewed determination to live.

It felt like she had to do something significant to mark the occasion.

***