Blessed, They Said

"Morally speaking, the building should go to the youngest."

Everything began with that one sentence.

It was the final day of the funeral, the one Sohee had come to after hearing of her grandfather's passing. The words flung at her the moment she arrived—having barely made it in time—were so absurd she could only doubt her own ears.

Which meant…

"…What?"

What were they giving her?

"The building your grandfather left behind. He's giving it to you."

"I'm sorry—what?"

Was this really how you handed over a building? In the same breezy tone as slipping someone a ten-thousand-won allowance?

Sohee frowned, unable to make sense of it. Somewhere in the meantime, the relatives—who knew when they'd all gathered—had settled into seats around her.

"There, I know you're shocked. It wasn't an easy decision for any of us."

"It's a five-story motel. Sure, it's a bit out in the sticks, but so what?"

"Honestly, it'd be a lie to say we're not disappointed ourselves—but whose loss is it really, in the end?"

Whose loss? Weren't I the eyesore?

"Why… me?"

The innocent question slipped out before she could stop it. It made no sense for them to hand a building, just like that, to the girl they'd always treated as an inconvenient appendage.

"Why? Would you listen to her."

The youngest aunt, who'd been snorting through her nose, let a trace of irritation color her voice.

"What, don't you want it?"

"Youngest."

The eldest uncle grabbed her arm as if to hold her back, but the aunt shook him off lightly.

"No, Oppa, come on. Someone's offering you a building and you ask 'why'? You say thank you and take it."

At the pointed remark, Sohee kept brushing back the stray strands of hair that had fallen loose for no good reason. Even that much made her arms tremble faintly. She'd meant to wrap up work quickly before coming, but the deliveries had piled up unusually high today, and she'd clearly overdone it.

"So that's why you're giving it to me—"

"Look at this. She barely shows her face on the last day of the funeral, and now we have to explain why she should accept a building? We've been nothing but sweet to her, and not once in her life has she ever let anything slide—always keeping score, down to the last detail. No wonder people find her grating—"

"It's Grandfather's will."

At the voice cutting across the aunt, Sohee looked up at her eldest uncle. But the next words came, as before, out of the youngest aunt's mouth.

"You too, Oppa. He wasn't in his right mind at the end, so there was no real need to honor it. I mean, he could've left it to any one of his grandsons, but why do all our children get passed over…!"

"Youngest."

"What!"

Whether it was the eldest uncle's behavior that stung, the youngest aunt glared at him for a long moment before turning sharply on her heel and leaving. The air turned icy in an instant, and the eldest aunt leaned in close to Sohee.

"Whatever else, you can't ignore a departed person's final wishes. Of course… he didn't exactly single you out, but your grandfather adored you, you know."

"…"

Not knowing what to say, Sohee simply watched them in silence.

Even if her grandfather had doted on her, the odds of the building actually passing to her had been nearly nonexistent. It was only possible if every one of her cousins gave up their claim.

And they'd all given it up? Why?

As she stood there dazed, the relatives on her father's side each chimed in.

"That's right—after your father and mother went the way they did, you were all alone and went through so much, and the money side would've been a burden too…."

The deaths of Sohee's parents—her second uncle's household. The moment someone finally brought it up with difficulty, the relatives added their voices one by one.

"Exactly. Of course it should be you. We have at least that much of a conscience."

"You should build a good, proper life now. With no one to lean on, having a building in your hands would make things so much easier. That way our minds are at ease too."

"Honestly, moving out the moment you graduated—do you know how much that stung?"

Faced with everyone's undivided attention for the first time in her life, Sohee managed an awkward smile. She could still hear, vivid as yesterday, the eldest aunt's voice over the phone, sighing with relief that now that Sohee was an adult, her duty was done.

"So we all decided—every one of us. For your sake."

Her eldest aunt came over to where she sat, ill at ease, and clasped her hands tightly.

"Our Sohee is blessed. Isn't that right?"

Blessed?

Standing in front of the motel, Sohee let out a scoff of pure disbelief.

She had pushed through waist-high overgrown grass, climbed the mountain, and finally found the motel—and it was almost too painful to look at with her eyes open.

The drab gray paint had peeled away in blotchy patches, every window frame held an empty bird's nest caked thick with droppings, and the entrance was strung with an extravagant array of heavy cobwebs.

The rusted sign, of course, had the M of MOTEL hanging crooked, one breath away from falling.

"Ha… haha."

Tears welled at the corners of Sohee's half-vacant eyes.

No wonder it all felt so rushed. They were practically desperate to give the thing away.

Before her grief had even begun to fade, the moment the funeral rites concluded, the inheritance papers were already waiting in front of her.

"It's an opportunity that won't come twice."

"How many years of salary would it take? You could never buy a building."

"Where else would you get a debt-free building for free?"

"Worst case, with no parents to look after you, you'd at least have money in your fist to live on."

Amid the whirlwind of urging, Sohee barely gathered herself enough to answer.

"Still, I'd like to see the building for myself first. It's deep in the mountains, so, um… there's no Street View or anything…."

Even then, when she couldn't bring herself to stamp the papers, they were endlessly gentle with her.

"Street what? I have no idea what that means. And aren't there plenty of unmanned motels in the mountains these days?"

"…That's true."

At the slight stiffening of her eldest uncle's expression, Sohee's voice shrank in a hurry.

While everyone was yielding this building to her, would nitpicking like this look like biting the hand that fed her?

To the girl cowed into silence, her eldest uncle forced a pale smile.

"It must be dizzying, having all this land on you out of nowhere. It might scare you more than it delights you. Even a lump of gold falling from the sky would do that—how much more a whole building. Whether you should even accept it, whether there's truly no catch to it…. If only your father were still alive, you'd never have had to suffer like this."

At the tremor in his voice as he gazed off into the distance, Sohee bit down hard on her tongue. In the end, it was that last, heartfelt remark that shook her resolve.

"Don't second-guess it. Take it. Think of it as the responsibility your father's brothers carry for him."

As if steeling herself, Sohee stamped the documents. Compared to how long she'd agonized, the paperwork itself ended simply, with a few stamps.

"Thank you."

Sohee bowed her head deeply. Grateful for their willingness to look after their sibling's child—and because she could sense that giving this up had not been easy for them.

There were plenty of mountain motels, just as they'd said, and maybe Street View simply hadn't updated for this area yet. She had the official registry extract, the building carried not a single debt—what could possibly go wrong, she'd thought.

And those expressions, those words—all of it staged? Every bit of it, the worry they'd shown her, even invoking their dead brother by name?

That short message was the entire answer to the calls she'd placed, over and over, with no reply.

So this was why they hadn't waived their inheritance and had gone out of their way to pass it to me. Cutting ties outright would've been too ugly—so instead they handed me a useless motel and got to tell themselves they'd done right by me.

Sohee's fist clenched without her meaning it to. The real-estate document envelope in her hand crumpled with a crackle. Inside it were even the tax papers for a sum far too large for her to shoulder.

"You must pay by the deadline."

The reason she'd wiped her tears of bitterness, climbed the mountain road, and made her way to the motel anyway was precisely this.

Sell it fast, before it eats more of my money. That was the solution Sohee had come up with.

And now, face to face with a motel that was nearly a condemned ruin, even that last hope had crumbled.

"…It's hopeless."

Whooooosh—

Sohee, who had climbed the entire mountain with her eyes fixed on nothing but the motel, snapped back to her senses only at the bleak keening of the wind. She glanced around her, uselessly.

In this mountain overgrown with trees and brush, not even the common birdsong could be heard. An old motel standing all alone in a place like this gave off an almost uncanny feeling.

Wh-what is this? It's giving me the creeps.

Sohee hunched her shoulders against the sudden chill.

Now that she'd come to her senses and faced reality, gooseflesh raced up her arms. The sun had slipped behind the mountain at some point, and the motel's dark shadow was stretching out long across the ground.

…First, I have to take pictures. Someone might want to gut this place and renovate it completely, right?

Running her slender thread of a hope through her head, Sohee raised her phone. She started with quick shots of the exterior.

Click, click, click.

Having finished the outside in a hurry, she stood before the motel's entrance. The handle of the old swinging door was rusted—how many years had it been sitting here?

Just the first floor and the counter. That's all I'm looking at.

That was the farthest stretch her courage could manage.

It might sell, if I'm lucky. And I'm scared of this? Do you know how much tax I owe?

Sohee gave herself a silent pep talk and squared her shoulders. Then, glaring at the motel with wide-open eyes, she pushed the door with all her strength.

Screeeeeeech.

At the skin-crawling sound, Sohee froze all over again. She let out a shaky breath and managed a single step inside, where a thin layer of grit and dust ground unpleasantly against the soles of her shoes.

Then silence settled once more.

"Hoo."

She had just drawn another deep breath and was about to take another step when—

"So Sohee."

"…!"

Sohee's head snapped around. On a mountain already dark, in a motel that was unmistakably empty, her own name had just sounded out of nowhere.

A place where no one could be—and no one should be.

Cold sweat ran down her spine and the world went black at the edges. Every nerve in her body had gone taut, so sensitive that the brush of a single fine hair would have made her jump.