Love - Chapter 1 Part 2

“It’s just cleaning, who cares…!”

When one of the kids defiantly spoke up, Jeongwoo calmly responded.

“Do you realize how upset the director nun would be if she found out you ganged up on someone after introducing yourselves as poor kids without families?”

A sense of guilt finally appeared on the kids’ faces. Watching them, Jeongwoo continued, sounding like a teacher.

“You know how much the nuns and teachers sacrifice for us, right?”

“Jugwoo opaa….”

“……”

“What about the people who sponsor us? Do you think they’d be happy if they found out we’re acting like this? They might even stop donating.”

The kids were visibly panicked now. Even without the director nun’s efforts to instill financial awareness from a young age, the children knew well where their monthly allowance came from. If donations stopped, they wouldn’t be able to buy snacks or tteokbokki anymore. It was only natural that they were scared.

“Sorry.”

The kid who had first stuck gum in Eunhye’s hair spoke up quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

One by one, the hesitant apologies from the kids followed.

“What about you? Aren’t you going to accept their apologies?”

At Jeongwoo’s words, Eunhye didn’t respond, her face red as she sniffled. Her neatly braided hair was now disheveled, and her face was a mess from crying. The kids, glancing at Jeongwoo, slowly backed away.

“Anyway, we apologized, hyung.”

“Don’t tell the teachers, okay?”

“We have to go eat lunch. Let’s go!”

After defiantly spouting their final words, the kids quickly scattered.

It was a sunny autumn day. Behind the facility, where yellow ginkgo leaves fell with every gust of wind, Jeongwoo locked eyes with her.

“The teachers told me about you. So you’re Eunhye.”

Eunhye wiped her teary eyes with the back of her hand as she looked at Jeongwoo.

“…I’m not a liar. I’ve never lied to them.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Tears continued to stream down her cheeks. She shook her head vigorously, denying their words.
“But why did you just stand there while they put gum in your hair and pushed you around? You could’ve fought back.”

“…Hitting friends makes you a bad person.”

Jeongwoo smiled faintly as he listened to Eunhye’s small voice.

“Still, why just take it? You’re such a fool.”

Eunhye pouted, her voice trembling with frustration.

“They said I should get along with my friends!”

“Who said that? The director nun?”

“…My mom.”

When Eunhye hesitated and finally spoke in a small voice, Jeongwoo’s expression faltered slightly. She was only nine, but she looked even younger, her small frame trembling as tears welled up in her dark eyes. Her hair was a sticky mess from the gum, and she sniffled as she stumbled over her words.

“My mom… sob… was going to come get me… and invite all the kids here to our house… and the volunteer ladies and teachers too… sob…”

Jeongwoo took a deep breath and exhaled as he looked at Eunhye. Did this little girl not know that her mom had passed away, or was she just unable to accept it?

Jeongwoo had just returned from a visit to a sponsor’s home. He now understood why the director nun had asked him to take special care of this child as soon as he got back.

“I’m not going to invite those kids anymore… I won’t lend them my toys or let them ride Carrot…”

The little girl sobbed, repeating similar things. She said she’d eat all the delicious cake her pretty mom made by herself and wouldn’t show them the photos of her swimming with a whale.

She spoke as if she didn’t want to leave the fairy-tale world she had created in her mind. Jeongwoo knew it was impossible for her hopes to come true, but he didn’t contradict her. After all, he too lived with lies. Talking about how his parents died was something he could never do.

He gently held Eunhye’s shoulder as another large tear rolled down her cheek.

“I’ll… tell you a secret.”

Her tear-filled eyes, swollen from crying, looked up at him. Her lashes were clumped together from the tears.

“…What is it?”

The sooner a new child adapted to life at the facility, the better. That’s what Jeongwoo had learned from experience. He stared into Eunhye’s still-innocent eyes and finally spoke.

“Sometimes… I can see ghosts.”

Eunhye’s small lips parted silently.

“…Really?”

She blinked, forgetting to even breathe, and whispered in a hushed voice. Jeongwoo smiled faintly at her.

“Yeah, really. But I don’t tell the other kids. I tried a few times, but they didn’t believe me. I became a liar in an instant. So maybe it’s better if you don’t say anything to them either.”

“Then… can you see my mom?”

Eunhye’s desperate eyes bore into him, and Jeongwoo hesitated.

“…Huh?”

“The director nun said my mom went to heaven. My desk mate said that means she died. They say dead people become ghosts. But I can’t see ghosts… Can you… see my mom…?”

The smile slowly faded from Jeongwoo’s composed face. He shook his head at the child, whose eyes were filled with equal parts hope and fear.

“No. I can’t see her.”

Disappointment slowly filled her wide eyes. Eunhye pressed her lips into a thin line and lowered her head. A tear fell onto the pile of ginkgo leaves on the ground. Jeongwoo’s soft voice continued above her small head.

“Because only people who died unfairly become scary ghosts. Your mom is happy in heaven now, not sick anymore, so she can’t become a ghost. She won’t.”

Eunhye sniffled. It was disappointing that Jeongwoo couldn’t see her mom, but it was better than thinking of her as a scary ghost.

“Eunhye.”

Jeongwoo called her gently as she rubbed the ground with the toe of her sneaker.

“You know… the truth, right?”

“……”

“You know… your mom can’t come back for you… right?”

Finally, Eunhye looked up and blinked slowly at Jeongwoo. He didn’t look away from the little girl’s face. What thoughts were running through her small head right now?

Eunhye, who had been silent, finally took a deep breath and exhaled. Her face was no bigger than a palm, but the sigh she let out was deep. Her small shoulders trembled with unresolved sorrow, but she wasn’t crying anymore.

She was only nine. The meaning of death, the first thing she had to accept before even understanding what life was. The farewell that meant she could never see her mom again. Jeongwoo had experienced the same thing at her age. It felt like being stranded alone in the vast emptiness of space, terrifying and painful.

“Oppa.”

Eunhye blinked her pale eyes at him a couple of times.

“…Why are you crying?”

Tears were streaming down Jeongwoo’s beautiful eyes, which sparkled like stars on a lake. Eunhye glanced around and then spoke softly.

“Are you seeing a ghost right now? Is that why you’re crying because you’re scared?”

“…Yeah.”

Jeongwoo nodded slightly, his voice tight. He didn’t want to think about it, but the memory came flooding back—the terrifying day he had to say goodbye to his parents forever.

The ginkgo leaves fluttered down in the autumn breeze. Eunhye hesitated for a moment, then raised both hands. Her small, delicate hands carefully covered Jeongwoo’s eyes, which were partially hidden by his long bangs.

“…Can you see anything now?”

Eunhye whispered to him.

“If you’re still scared, should I scream for you? I can scream really loud. The music teacher said I have a strong voice.”

A faint laugh escaped Jeongwoo’s lips beneath her hands. Seeing how this little girl’s bravado comforted him, it was clear he still had a long way to go before becoming an adult.

“…I’m not scared anymore.”

“Good,” Eunhye muttered softly. Then she continued seriously.

“You know… you can tell me whenever a ghost appears. I’ll cover your eyes like this every time.”

“Thank you.”

“But for that…”

Eunhye hesitated, unsure how to finish her sentence. Jeongwoo gently removed her small hands from his eyes.

“…You have to stay with me all the time.”

Seeing her serious expression, Jeongwoo’s eyes sparkled as he laughed.

“Okay. I promise.”

Eunhye watched the most handsome boy in the world smile in front of her and sniffled, laughing back. She resisted the urge to tell him that she’d only invite him to her house and let him ride Carrot. For some reason, it felt like the right thing to do.

“But what I told you about seeing ghosts is a secret, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Promise.”

Eunhye clasped his outstretched pinky with hers. She didn’t know then that it was the first lie Jeongwoo had told to open her heart. Just having someone who knew her secret made the unfamiliar, scary place feel a little warmer. As warm as the body heat she felt when he held her hand and walked with her.

The gum the kids had stuck in her hair was impossible to remove completely. After trying various methods, the director nun finally decided to cut Eunhye’s hair. Eunhye, her head smeared with cooking oil, held back her tears until the moment the nun took out the scissors. Then she bolted and ran away.

“You’d look really pretty with short hair. Really. Honestly.”

It was Jeongwoo who eventually found her hiding spot and convinced her. Eunhye finally sat on a large bench behind the facility, tightly closing her eyes. Jeongwoo held the scissors himself because Eunhye wouldn’t let anyone else touch her hair.

With a troubled expression, Jeongwoo carefully began cutting her hair, the sound of the scissors snipping away. The other kids gathered around, watching as if it were a shaving ceremony. Hearing their muffled giggles, Eunhye’s face grew more and more tearful.

By the time Jeongwoo finally put the scissors down, the sun had completely set. When Eunhye cautiously opened her eyes, the square mirror on the wooden table reflected a strange girl with unevenly cut hair and red, puffy eyes staring back at her.

“Wow… you look really pretty, Eunhye. You look like a doll.”

Jeongwoo’s whisper was drowned out by the kids’ laughter.

“Hey, she looks like a boy!”

“Eunhye’s a boy now!”

“She’s so ugly, pfft!”

“Hey, can’t you guys be quiet?”

Despite Jeongwoo’s scolding, the kids continued to tease Eunhye as they ran away. Staring at the awkwardly short hair brushing her ears, Eunhye’s nostrils flared, and she finally burst into loud sobs.