Chapter 19
While Ha-jin's mom ground her bones to dust working to earn money to raise her daughter, every woman from Flower Village who'd ever been in her debt came running. They took turns cradling Ha-jin, carrying her on their backs, and raising her like one of their own.
Women who'd been through the same hell as Ha-jin's mom—hooking up with worthless deadbeats and giving birth to kids whose fathers they didn't even know—all put Ha-jin to their breasts and nursed her. While her mom dragged herself from one grueling job to the next, Ha-jin grew with skin as soft as a pampered princess, her little face shining with a healthy glow.
And just when she'd scraped together enough savings to think, This should be enough to get by with my one precious, hard-luck girl, Ha-jin's mom got hit with the thunderbolt news: terminal lung cancer. It was the sickness she'd picked up hustling in filthy air without any real protection, bouncing from one dead-end gig to another.
She sat there in a daze, clutching her bankbook stuffed with zeros, then called together every last auntie and unni who helped look after Ha-jin.
"Use this for my funeral, and you all take responsibility for raising that poor little thing with her rotten luck. Hell, skim some off for lipstick or panties if you want—just don't cheat her so bad she starves."
Her word was law. And when she passed not long after, none of the women who'd gathered there touched a dime from that bankbook for the funeral. They emptied their own pockets, pooled every cent they had, rented the nicest hall at the best hospital, and sent her off right.
Shin Ha-jin was a child raised on loves as tough and twisted as they come.
Myeong-hyeon showed up looking for Ha-jin right around the time she started elementary school.
No mom or dad? No problem. I've got more solid aunties and unnis than any of my classmates have friends. Wise beyond her years, Ha-jin set her alarm for the entrance ceremony, got up alone, pulled on her socks and clothes by herself, and even fixed herself a hearty cup noodle breakfast.
She loved the pretty clothes and bag her aunties and unnis had bought her, and the white sneakers fit just right. Everything was something she could brag about to new friends. It made her proud.
She didn't flinch seeing kids arrive hand-in-hand with their parents or riding up in their family cars. If I get all intimidated, my aunties and unnis will be sad. Besides, after the ceremony, I can hit them up for a huge chocolate cake to celebrate me becoming an elementary kid.
She was thinking that as she passed through the school gate.
"Shin Ha-jin!"
She turned at the bright, unfamiliar voice calling her name. A shockingly tall woman, pretty as a doll, was beaming down at her. At first, Ha-jin thought she was some idol or actress, but suspicion kicked in quick—Why's a stranger calling my name? Just like her aunties always warned: Be extra wary of good-looking people, especially the too-pretty ones. Ha-jin eyed her sharply, hand itching for the self-defense whistle in her pocket, ready to blast it if needed.
"Who are you? How do you know my name?"
The pretty woman blinked in surprise at Ha-jin's question, then burst out laughing—first a pfft, then full-on guffaws, clapping her hands. A few parents heading inside stared, shielding their kids and wondering if she was nuts.
"Hey, make that face again. You're the spitting image of Soo-young unni."
"Huh?"
Ha-jin clutched her backpack strap tight, blinking at the familiar name before asking carefully,
"Soo-young? You mean Lee Soo-young?"
The woman wiped tears of laughter from her eyes with her fingertips and nodded.
"That's right. Your mom."
"How do you know my mom?"
"Jeez, you're tiny but suspicious as hell."
Tsking her tongue, the woman pulled a cute little phone from her stylish shoulder bag and showed Ha-jin a photo. The first one had a bunch of familiar faces. Swipe to the next, and there was the woman with Ha-jin's mom, smiling side by side.
She crouched down to Ha-jin's eye level, staring into her confused face.
"I'm someone who owes your mom a debt."
"A debt? What's that?"
"Hmm. Easy version: If a friend helps you out, how do you feel?"
"Grateful."
"Right? You feel thankful. Like you owe them something back."
Ha-jin nodded her little head eagerly at the explanation that clicked right away.
"Yeah."
"That's what a debt is. The good kind, anyway."
The good kind? So there was a bad kind too? Ha-jin tilted her head, puzzled, then finally trusted her enough to pout primly.
"Okay, I'll believe you. You're Mom's friend, right?"
The pretty woman grinned and ruffled Ha-jin's hair gently.
"Thanks a ton, kiddo. I'm touched."
That day, Ha-jin's elementary school entrance photo included the woman. A parent passing by offered to snap it on her phone. On the day she got a ceremony photo to treasure forever, Ha-jin learned the name of that TV-star pretty lady: Choi Myeong-hyeon.
***
The other aunties and unnis visited two or three times a week, but Myeong-hyeon only once—if that. Even so, Ha-jin liked her more than anyone.
Myeong-hyeon always smelled amazing. Her hairstyles, clothes—everything screamed high fashion from glossy magazines, flashy and expensive. Her nails were long, perfectly manicured, adorned with jewels or artwork.
When she wore pinks or purples, she looked like a princess from some fairy-tale kingdom. Ha-jin always counted down the minutes for the fancy cookies, puddings, or pastries Myeong-hyeon brought—stuff straight out of dramas.
Bringing those luxury cookies or chocolates to school made all the kids jealous: How awesome is your unni to know about stuff this pretty and delicious? Sharing snacks and hearing Myeong-hyeon hyped up made Ha-jin beam.
Ha-jin was fearless and scrappy, but her mom's friends—those aunties and unnis—never once let her spend a night alone. They rotated shifts like clockwork: dinner together, gossip sessions, falling asleep to TV.
The rundown apartment in that remote neighborhood had few residents, but it never felt lonely or bleak. Human warmth never left the place.
Ha-jin lived for the moment Myeong-hyeon walked through the door, but sometimes she couldn't figure her out. She'd lock herself in the bathroom for two hours straight, or freak out if Ha-jin tried her usual big hug, yelling not to touch. When Ha-jin blinked in shock at the over-the-top reaction, Myeong-hyeon would mumble weakly, face crumpling like she might cry.
"It's not 'cause you're dirty. Or that I don't like you. It's just... me."
"Unni..."
Ha-jin couldn't make sense of it, but Myeong-hyeon looked so heartbroken, she never pressed for more.
By the time Ha-jin started high school, Myeong-hyeon was busier than ever—visits rarer still. Her style got flashier, evolving into full-on chaebol heiress from a K-drama. Ha-jin's admiration grew right along with it.
Figuring Myeong-hyeon had landed some killer job and was killing it, Ha-jin would think whenever she saw her: I wanna be like unni someday—dressed pretty, living fancy and busy. That hair, that makeup, those clothes.
One day, when Ha-jin let slip that wish, Myeong-hyeon replied with a completely straight face, no trace of a smile.
"You can live way better than me. Don't even think about turning out like I did."