Life Begins at Twenty
After demolishing a hamburger set down to the last fry, I-eum turned down Ji-hoon's offer to walk her home and boarded the subway for the first time in a while.
She had decided to pay a visit to the college district—a place she normally had no reason to go—and look around a bit.
She wasn't in any hurry to get home, and besides, she needed time alone to sort out her thoughts.
"One fall doesn't mean your life is over."
"I'll help you."
"Life begins at twenty in the first place. Got it?"
His words echoed one after another in I-eum's ears as she stared blankly into space. They were more than comfort for a defeated teenager—there was a steel core of conviction running through them, proof of his sincerity.
It sent a shiver all the way down to her heart, and she drew a small breath.
She knew this whole enormous mess had happened because of Bo-ra. The sudden collapse—claiming she couldn't breathe—and the theft of her test voucher and ID were, without a doubt, sabotage meant to drag I-eum down.
It struck her as absurd now that she had worried, even for a moment, about Bo-ra's well-being. Left to her own impulses, she wanted to run over and tear the girl's hair out by the roots.
But she didn't want a clumsy, half-baked revenge.
She wanted to break Yeon Bo-ra at the most opportune moment, in the most devastating way possible.
But how?
While she was lost in that thought, the destination name finally rang out over the speakers.
I-eum tapped her card and pushed through the turnstile. True to form for a college district, students—older sisters and brothers who looked like university students—were everywhere. Quite a few of them wore baseball jackets emblazoned with their school's name.
How cool...
Watching them with envious eyes, I-eum soon pulled out her phone and opened the map.
Places she wanted to see. Food she wanted to eat.
Her plan was to enjoy just this one day for herself.
Wearing her school uniform on CSAT day, she'd drawn the occasional puzzled glance, but she paid it no mind. She strolled down a street famous for its restaurants and cafés, ate tteokbokki, and then walked into a huge arcade and blew every won of cash she had on her.
It was fun.
So much so that anyone would wonder if this was really the same person who had been sobbing her heart out not an hour ago—a faint smile had somehow bloomed vividly across I-eum's face.
"I'll help you."
Truthfully, that one sentence was what had brought her back to her feet. It felt as if he were telling her: if you crumble here, Yeon Bo-ra gets exactly what she wants—and the ultimate revenge is picking yourself up as if nothing happened and seeing it through to the very end.
Having sweat out every ounce of stress at the arcade, I-eum headed for the university.
"So this is it."
Standing before the famous sculpture that symbolized the school, her chest swelled.
In fact, ever since meeting Ji-hoon, she had gained one small dream.
The dream of working at Haeseong High School.
For a girl who had only ever aimed, vaguely, at a prestigious university, teaching was a brand-new challenge. If she could become a teacher like Sung Ji-hoon—a true adult capable of guiding young people—then a life that had been nothing but an ugly duckling's would suddenly feel worth a great deal.
And besides, I'd get to work in the same place as him for the rest of my life.
How wonderful would that be?
The mere thought of it made her grin, and she wandered the vast campus to her heart's content. She walked around for so long that it was only when her legs began to ache that she decided it was time to head home.
Back on the subway, I-eum took out her phone.
To the number that had called her that morning, she sent a text message. She was determined to become a teacher at Haeseong High School, no matter what. If her father Yeon Chang-shin refused to support her, she would work part-time jobs if she had to and earn the money she needed to study.
The earnest longing made her throat go dry. And the moment that little counter of unsent messages ticked down to nothing, her heart pounded wildly.
What kind of answer would he send? He'd said he would help her, so the odds were high it would be something positive...
But reality was blunt. Hot, then cold. It left her reeling, then caught her again before she could fall. In front of Sung Ji-hoon—a man she could never predict—I-eum kept crumbling, over and over, and kept wanting to stand back up.
Once she'd resolved to spend a year retaking the exam, everything became clear. I-eum took a light breath in front of the front door and punched in the passcode.
Inside, for some reason, Joo-yeon had come out to the entryway to meet her.
"How did the exam go?"
"I didn't take it."
At I-eum's answer, delivered as she slipped off her shoes, Joo-yeon's eyes widened slightly.
"Why?"
"My test voucher disappeared. Just like somebody took it on purpose."
At that, Joo-yeon seemed to lose her tongue and said nothing.
I-eum didn't stop there. Stepping into the living room, she asked:
"Did you know Bo-ra was sick this morning?"
"Yes. I heard about it later."
"From whom?"
Joo-yeon frowned, making no effort to hide her displeasure.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"What do you mean, what does it mean? Her phone was off, Dad kept not answering my calls and never replied to my texts either. So I was curious who told you—that's the only reason I asked."
"Bo-ra texted me that she was on her way to the emergency room."
"How strange. Bo-ra collapsed in her pajamas right in front of me, but I suppose she remembered to grab her phone."
Joo-yeon must already have known that I-eum had missed the CSAT. Bo-ra would have told her everything—that she'd faked a collapse because she couldn't rest easy knowing she'd taken I-eum's test voucher and ID, that she'd cost her that time, so there was no way she could have done well.
"Is Bo-ra all right?"
And yet I-eum—her eyes a little puffy perhaps, but somehow looking more alive than usual—might well have struck Joo-yeon as strange.
Joo-yeon answered slowly, wearing the odd expression of someone staring at a ghost.
"Oh... yes, she's fine."
"That's a relief."
I-eum started toward her room, then stopped, as if something had just occurred to her, and turned back to Joo-yeon.
"Oh, and, stepmother."
At the title that left the girl's mouth, Joo-yeon stiffened without meaning to.
"I did pull off something rather big today. You'll let me have dinner, won't you?"
She flashed an awkward smile, saying she was just so hungry, and disappeared into her room.
Joo-yeon stood rooted to the spot—until Bo-ra, who had slipped out and been eavesdropping at the door, came up to her.
"Mom, what did Yeon I-eum say?"
Joo-yeon looked back and forth between I-eum's closed door and her daughter's face, then turned away with her shoulders sagging.
"I don't know..."
"Why?"
"She says she missed the exam, but she acts like nothing happened at all. She even wants dinner."
"Hm. Is that so?"
Bo-ra tilted her head, but the fact that I-eum had missed the exam was more than satisfying enough.
"Don't worry about it. The shock must have made her head spin in circles."
"But Bo-ra, I think I-eum suspects you..."
Joo-yeon couldn't stop thinking about how I-eum had announced, practically begging to be overheard, that her test voucher had vanished. The sharpness in her eyes as she asked who had told her—it had felt like the girl already knew everything.
"Let her suspect. What can she even do? She has no proof."
"Still, isn't that going too far?"
Joo-yeon found herself remembering what her daughter had said to her not long ago.
"Mom, clear out of the house early on CSAT morning. You and Dad together. Turn your phones off. I mean it!"
When she asked why, Bo-ra had only repeated that no one else could be in the house that day. Even as she emptied the house at her daughter's request, something about it had gnawed at her.
"I never knew you had it in you to go this far. What you're doing to your sister—someday, even if it takes a while..."
"What are you talking about?"
Bo-ra's simpering expression changed in an instant.
"I didn't want to, but I still agreed to your remarriage. So it's only fair that you back me up on one thing in return. Isn't it?"
Her daughter shot her a cold glare and turned away without waiting for an answer, and Joo-yeon could only watch the girl's retreating back and let out a long sigh.
A child she had given birth to but never properly loved or raised.
And that was exactly why, in front of her daughter, she would always be the guilty one.