Mr. Jo
Two days.
I have just two desperate, wasted days, to figure out, how to repay Mr. Yoon for the crushing debt that eats away at me every waking minute.
Why on earth did I borrow money from Yoon? From cold, ruthless Yoon, whose name now gnaws at my insides? Why did I have to add a cowardly lie to all this? Why did I tell him I needed the money for treatment? Hannalee is not sick. She never was. In fact, I needed the money for her studies, but who cares? Whose heart would I soften with that touching gesture? Certainly not Mr. Yoon's.
My wife is tired and overworked and she doesn't earn enough to cover the cost of our daughter's education. I've been out of work for two years. I'm a helpless, useless shadow of the man, who should be providing for and supporting his family. What am I going to do? Where am I going to get all this money?
I have to think of something — anything! I can't let him take my daughter away from me. My only child. I'm snapped out of my anxious thoughts by a knock on the bathroom door. I've been sitting on the cold floor in here for about ten minutes, hiding myself from my daughter, so that she won't see me in such a humiliated and broken state. It's bad enough, that she saw me lying on the floor in front of Mr .Yoon, like a dirty dog.
„Dad?" I hear her low, innocent voice, muffled by the door. So fragile, so unmarked.
„Just a minute, honey. I'll be right out." With shaking hands, I change out of my sweaty sweatpants and underwear into clean and dry ones. I rinse my face with cold water to reduce the redness. My eyes are swollen and red from crying.
Deciding that, I at least look little like a human, I unlock the door and come out of my hiding place. My daughter runs into my arms and hugs me tightly. Her tiny arms squeeze me with innocent trust, that I don't deserve. I must find a way to keep her out of this at all costs.
... ༺༻ ...
In the afternoon, I locked myself in my bedroom. Sometimes, I breaking myself into sobs, that tear me apart, at the other times, I felt determined to find a solution to my abysmal situation. I searched every drawer and cupboard in my bedroom, naively hoping to find something — anything — that might save me. But there was nothing.
I washed my anxiety pills down, with a bitter sip of water and in one dark, perversely calm moment, I actually considered taking more, than the doctor prescribed me. But I'm trying to be strong for my daughter's sake. She's the last little flame, still keeping me alive.
I decide to explore the old wardrobe too. The moment I open the creaking closet door, my eyes fall on a box on the top shelf. I reach for it, pull it down, and mindlessly dump its contents onto the carpet.
I start rummaging through everything in a frantic panic, hoping to find something useful. Then I realise, that the box is full of memories of a life I haven't lived for years. A life, with the person, who left me. But I can't blame her, she had every right to leave. She left, when I first got into debt with someone. That was the reason for our separation. Not only did she leave me, she also took our only son with her. I feel pain in my ribs, as if a rusty knife has stabbed me there.
Son. God will hate me for this.
With trembling hands, I frantically search through the scattered items, for one important piece of paper. By the time I find it, I'm already holding the phone and dialling the number. It's been a few years since we last spoke.
The phone beeps. Once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth ring, someone picks up and a man's voice comes on. He introduces himself as Samuel Harris and I realise, that he is my ex-wife's new husband.
„Hello, is Min-hee there, please?" I blurt out desperately, hoping he'll hand her over to me.
„Who's calling?" I hear an irritated voice in English from the other side of the line. I look up the language in my head, I haven't used it in a long time.
„Is Min-hee there? I'm an acquaintance of hers," I announce uncertainly, not knowing, if she's ever mentioned me to her new husband.
„Min-hee died," he barks sternly and without mercy into the phone, and a stabbing pain runs through my chest. I start biting my thumbnail.
„Could I, at least, talk to Taesung?" I completely forget my manners and offer my condolences to the widower. I'm only interested in my son.
„Dad, who is it?" I hear the voice of a young, inquisitive boy on the other end of the phone. Mr. Harris argues with him for a moment, then turns his attention back to our call.
„I honestly don't give a shit about that bastard. And don't call me again." He barks, hangs up and the phone falls silently out of my hand. This was my last hope. I slump to the floor, curl into a ball and burst into tears again. How will I explain this to my wife? And what about my daughter?
I feel hopeless. For a brief moment, I am again overwhelmed by the seductive thought, that I should end my life. But that wouldn't solve anything. Yoon would have come for my daughter anyway. I couldn't save her by committing this heinous act.
My phone rings at my feet. I reach for it, not even checking who's calling. I press the answer button and put the phone to my ear.
„Are you the one, who asked for Taesung?" A young male voice comes from the other end of the line. I realise, that I've heard him before, when I was talking to the rude man.
„Yes, do you know where he is?" Hope, fragile and timid, flickers inside me again.
„I could find out, what you want from him?" The moment has arrived to reveal my cards.
„My name is Jo Jung-Su. I'm his father and I'd like to talk to him and get to know him." The saddest thing about this moment is, that I don't regret the lie I just told. Desperate people do desperate things.
The young man promises to pass on the message to my son. Now, I have no choice, but to wait and see if fortune smiles on me. Please God, forgive me for my sin. To save my daughter, I must sacrifice my son. Blood for blood.
... ༺༻ ...
I just spoke to him. For the first time, I heard my son's voice. He sounded like a stranger, so distant. Jo Taesung. That name echoes in my head, like a sin I can't shake off.
I don't know how I managed to persuade him to come to me, but I did. Here, to Seoul. To this rotten house, where the only sound is, the ticking of the clock, counting down to the end.
He believed me, he believed every word I said. Honestly, it wasn't hard to pretend through the phone, where lies can be hide behind tone of voice, how much I'd like to meet him. I played the part of a father, longing to meet him. Someone, who wants to right the wrongs of the past.
He'll be arriving tomorrow, and that's, when Mr. Yoon is supposed to return, so I can repay him my debt. That damn demon, with the wolf smile and the iron heart.
I'm sorry, Jo Taesung. You may bear my surname and have my blood in your veins, but you are no more my son, than I am not your father. You were just a child taken from me, and now you're just a means to an end. I'm doing this for her. I do everything for her. For my daughter, Hannalee.
If I have to sacrifice the past to save the future, I will. I'll live with the knowledge, that I'll never look in the mirror again without shame.
But I'll do it.
... ༺༻ ...
BLOOD DEBT (피의 빚)