Even now, when I close my eyes, I still remember what my mum said on my 7th birthday.
'Hajae. Mom has to leave because she loves you.'
It was the most contradictory sentence I'd ever heard. I was seven years old, and I couldn't understand it in my young, juvenile mind, which was still grappling with things like basic addition. My mom had just been making excuses, so she felt less guilty about abandoning her only child. I was relieved when she gave up. I didn't want to think about confusing adult situations.
I tried to cut her out of my life completely after that. Of course, it wasn't easy. Whenever I saw reminders of her around the house or I ran into someone who knew her and told me how much I resembled my mother, the memories I tried to erase were dragged up like a fish caught on a fishing line.
I resembled my mother? What an insult. Unlike her, I would never abandon the people I love. Not ever.
Since then, nine more cold years have passed. I was now sixteen. When I was in elementary school, all the middle school students in the grade levels above me seemed like adults. However, when you yourself reach that age, you realize that isn't the case.
I still haven't forgotten my mom, and I still stay up all night at times, longing for the woman who'd abandoned me. Beyond resentment, I was just curious. Why did she leave me and my father behind? Was it desire or boredom? Useless questions ran through my head every morning.
During the weeks that I wondered if it'd made me more mature, an urge to help other lonely children like me started to grow. At that time, I started volunteering at the orphanage run by the church where I used to attend mass with my father. I felt an unprecedented sense of responsibility when I looked after the kids there, and they relied on me.
Only here, I wasn't known as the high school student, Hajae Shin, but as their teacher, Johan. Even though I'm still in high school, I'm happy to hear the children call me ' teacher' because it makes me feel like I've accomplished something.
It was a day that I saw a face I hadn't seen at the orphanage before.
"Teacher. Don't play with that kid."
"Why not?"
"Something's wrong with him. He doesn't talk."
The child was a stranger. He was the only outsider in a nursery that was as close as a family despite there not being a drop of shared blood between them. By the time I heard about him, he'd already received much attention from the other kids. With his silky black hair, fair skin, and long eyelashes that framed his pale face, the children were fascinated by how pretty he was for a boy. They'd tried to get close to him, but he wouldn't even make eye contact with them.
So they began to spread bad rumors about him as he continued to ignore him.
"I heard it from someone. They said he sees ghosts."
"That's right. That's why his relatives abandoned him here."
It wasn't the kind of behavior you'd expect from children being educated by a compassionate priest in a holy cathedral, but the boy didn't respond to any of the insults. He didn't even deny that the rumors were false; he simply read a tattered maths textbook from the bookshelf in silence.
Without any response to fuel the fire, the rumors soon died down. At lunchtime, when the boys were playing football, and the girls were out for a walk, the boy read in the classroom by himself.
The moment everyone's attention had finally moved on, I unconsciously felt relieved.
"Hi."
I finally had a chance to talk to him alone.
"I finally got to talk to you."
In the short time I'd been volunteering at the orphanage, I'd met so many children whose families were taken from them, and they understandably craved love and attention. Having recently lost my own parents, I also felt that loneliness. But this child was special. I couldn't help but be curious as he brushed off all my attempts to befriend him.
"Do you like math?"
Again, he didn't answer. But rather than diminishing, my curiosity about him grew and grew. He was like a stray cat that refused to let me touch him. And I, of course, am a stubborn person. If a cat is wary of me, I'd keep approaching it until it let me touch it.
From that day on, I hovered around the child and talked to him daily. I kept asking him what his name was, what food he disliked, and whether he liked to play games. But he never answered. He would just flip through his old, worn book, as always.
"It's hot today, right? Should we go get some ice cream?"
Still, I didn't think he was ignoring me, and I don't think he viewed it that way either because his eyes would flicker subtly with each question I asked. Sometimes, his brow furrowed, and sometimes, his lips twitched as if he were about to say something.
He was clearly listening. But he didn't answer. Perhaps he was just shy.
"Hello. I'm here again."
I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere by just talking to him, so I changed my approach.
"I brought something fun, wanna see it?"
I held out the 3*3 Rubik's cube, and he glanced over. I hurriedly explained the cube to him before his interest waned.
"You turn it like this to make one side all the same color."
I then deftly fitted the cube together, just as my father had taught me.
Click, click, click–.
The sound of plastic rubbing against plastic cut through the heavy silence.
"What do you think?"
His eyes widened slightly as I quickly matched the colors on one side to show him.
Great. It seemed like he was interested.
"Wanna try?"
I gently held out the cube, and he put his book down and took it. His tiny hands fiddled with the cube for a while before completing the other side. Could it be that he was a gifted child? Apparently, he wasn't just looking at the math book out of boredom.
"That's pretty good for your first time. Do you want to try and finish the other side?"
He nodded slowly and turned the cube. But it didn't last long before he stopped. It was expected. People who played with a Rubik's cube for the first time were often afraid of messing up their hard work again, but it's necessary if they want to complete all six sides.
"It's hard, isn't it? Everyone struggles at first. But you'll quickly get the hang of it once you understand how to do it."
Can this quiet child do it? Will he be able to tear down the tower he's worked so hard to build to build a more beautiful castle?
Out of curiosity, I looked at his face and was stunned. I expected him to be upset, but instead, he was staring at the cube, his eyes flashing with the fierceness of an animal on the hunt. My heart skipped a beat as I realized I'd just glimpsed his true personality beneath the frosty exterior.
"Perfect. I'll give it to you as a gift then."
I smiled at him; he looked surprised but didn't make eye contact with me.
"If you can finish the cube by next week, I'll teach you something even more fun."
I left him with those words as I walked away.
It honestly felt like I was gambling. I wasn't expecting much, as there was no guarantee the child would take me up on my offer, even if he were interested in the cube. I figured I'd be lucky if he didn't throw the cube I gave him into the classroom trash can.
A week later, when I went to church, he was sitting in the corner of the pew as usual. I couldn't help but smile as the sunlight caught his tired appearance, making him look like a black cat.
"Hey, there you are."
As I got closer, I realized he wasn't holding the cube but the book. I was disappointed, but I expected it. Perhaps I had hoped for too much from the start. I smiled, trying not to let my disappointment show, and sat beside him. No, I tried to sit down, but there was something on the seat where I sat.
It was a cube with all six sides complete.
"You… did it?!"
He couldn't have looked it up on the internet; he had to have figured it out by himself. I felt strangely satisfied, even though I hadn't done it. I quickly picked up the cube and sat beside him, turning it around and admiring it.
"Wow… It took me a month to figure this out on my own. You must be really smart."
"….."
"Or am I stupid?"
"Haha!"
I laughed mischievously, looked over to the side, and our eyes locked. That's when I saw it for the first time. Beneath willowy lashes, he had black eyes like an abyss. He looked tired like he hadn't slept well, but he was still incredibly beautiful.
In addition, his large eyes, slightly upturned at the ends, were so clear that they reflected my face like a mirror. It was so amazing that I stared into his eyes and muttered to myself.
"Would you be reflected like this in my eyes, too?"
For a moment, his eyelashes fluttered. One by one, his delicate features came into view. His pursed lips, wide-open eyes, and slightly flushed cheeks didn't match his nervous expression. It was like looking at a camellia bud that hadn't bloomed yet, buried in the pure white snow. I realized it too late then. I'd leaned in so close that the tip of our noses had touched.
"Ah, sorry. I invaded your personal space."
I jerked my upper body back and smiled sheepishly. What was I doing to a kid who hadn't even spoken to me yet? I quietly scratched the back of my head and then handed him the Rubik's cube to break the ice.
"Thanks. For hanging out with me."