Retire 395

395 Greeting (4)

‘Come out. Now.’

‘…….’

‘You’re not coming out?’

‘Uh…’

‘Number 2. Stay put.’

‘…….’

‘I said, come out.’

‘…….’

A cold silence.

Without thinking, I gripped the hem of his clothes, and a gentle hand pried my fingers loose, careful to keep the woman at the door from seeing. Slowly, I got to my feet. The hem of his black clothes brushed past my nose. I reached out again, but before my fingers could touch, he moved away. I swallowed hard.

I’d learned that if I insisted on something, I could usually get my way. But I also knew that didn’t mean I could have everything I wanted.

Well, at the time, I couldn’t have analyzed my situation so neatly. I just threw fits, got frustrated, and all the while kept an eye on the adults around me.

And the fact that I noticed that only made me more irritable, so I’d dig in my heels even more.

This time was no different.

With other adults, it was one thing, but ‘hyung’ always listened to me. Even when he smiled awkwardly, he did his best to give me what I wanted.

Unfortunately, I didn’t understand what price he had to pay for that.

‘Aren’t you going to move?’

A sharp voice rang in my head.

Hyung picked up the mask that had fallen. The woman’s eyes narrowed even further.

It was only later that I realized hyung was always supposed to wear that mask. I remembered his voice, awkward as he held my hand, telling me he’d show me his face next time we moved.

But I—just four or five years old—nodded at his words, but didn’t back down.

If anything, I just begged harder to see his face.

In the end, hyung couldn’t resist my stubbornness…

The first time was hard. The second, he hesitated. By the third, when we didn’t get caught, it got easier. By the fourth, it was routine.

And this was the result.

Smack!

The woman slapped hyung across the face.

‘…I’m sorry, Mother.’

‘Come with me.’

‘It’s my fault…!’

Hyung shook his head.

I stopped as I was about to follow hyung and our mother out. Only then did the woman look at me.

She smiled.

‘Be good and stay here.’

The door closed.

A soft floor so I wouldn’t get hurt if I fell. Cushioned walls. Cloud-shaped lights.

Books and dolls. Toys I’d played with to the point of boredom.

And, standing out among it all, a cold iron door.

A fingerprint scanner just out of my reach. A doorknob I couldn’t turn. A door I’d never opened myself.

Hyung disappeared beyond that door.

And I didn’t see him again until we moved to the next lab. Even though he was always the one who moved me.

‘…….’

The woman in the tiger mask didn’t say a word the whole trip.

Back then, I wasn’t so patient. I tried talking to her a few times, but gave up when she didn’t respond.

‘Hy—…’

Still, I tried to ask about hyung, refused to give up. Why wasn’t he coming to see me? Was he okay?

But I couldn’t finish the question. Because hyung had told me never to call him ‘hyung’ in front of others.

‘…Where’s the person who usually takes me?’

Of course, there was no answer.

I dozed off in the back seat and only woke up after we arrived at the lab. The woman slipped a piece of candy into my hand. That was her own way of being kind.

It was a while before I saw hyung again.

I don’t know exactly how long. Back then, hyung was my only clock. What he said was the season, my age. He said it hadn’t been long, but I didn’t trust him enough to take that at face value.

‘Take off your mask!’

‘Um… sorry. I can’t do that anymore.’

‘Why?!’

‘I got in trouble. I’m not allowed to take it off.’

His gentle, coaxing voice hadn’t changed. So I thought if I just insisted, he’d eventually give in, like always.

But hyung never showed me his face again, not inside the lab, not outside.

…What could a fickle, stubborn child do when his brother wouldn’t give in?

Once, while hyung was reading to me, I reached for his mask.

A mask is just a mask. It doesn’t cover your whole head, and if you know the trick, it’s easy to take off. Hyung had even taught me how.

It happened in an instant.

For an awakened one, hyung must have been really letting his guard down to let a little kid get that close.

Just as my hand reached the latch, I saw scars beneath his collar. Scars running from his face down to his jaw… red, raw skin not yet healed. Scars. So many scars.

‘I told you not to!’

For the first time, hyung raised his voice at me. I trembled.

That was the first time he’d ever gotten angry with me. That wasn’t what shocked me, though. It was just… well.

“I wanted to forget.”

“That’s understandable.”

Hong Seok-yeong spoke calmly.

“I’m sure there’s some psychiatric term for it. That’s not my field, though.”

“You don’t have to know that much.”

“I remembered everything else—just not hyung’s face. Isn’t that strange? I remember the fairy tales he read me, the dolls he gave me as gifts… even his silly little jokes. But his face? Why couldn’t I remember just that?”

Hong Seok-yeong quietly poured instant coffee into paper cups and added hot water. He stirred one with a tiny spoon, then handed it to me, keeping the other for himself.

“…Trying to cut down on paper cup use.”

“When you don’t want to do something, you think about other things, don’t you?”

“…Still, cutting down on paper cups is good for the environment.”

“Sure. But I’ve got a mug I don’t use—why not bring that?”

“I’m not using anything from Dasun. Might as well make a Yangseong High version, so the kids can have some too.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Hong Seok-yeong agreed with a nod.

I bit my lip and drank the coffee, still hot.

I looked at the photo. I couldn’t bring myself to grip it tightly, for fear of creasing it.

The two people in the photo: a young man who looked a bit younger than me, and a little boy, maybe four or five.

It was taken at a small rest stop we visited while moving between labs. Until Tati gave it to me, I’d completely forgotten it even existed.

“…I knew.”

My brother, made from the same genes as me, obviously looked like me.

But the drooping eyes and gentle jawline beneath his short hair resembled our mother more than me. My mother and my brother’s mother.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s my fault for asking to see your face, isn’t it? I’m the one to blame. Hyung, hyung…’

‘No, it’s not your fault. Irok, you did nothing wrong. So, okay? It’s all right. Look at me. Just look at me.’

A face slashed by something sharp. Red, raw skin just beginning to heal. Proof he’d never received any real treatment. Blood and pus oozing from wounds that hadn’t closed.

The mask lying on the floor. Arms wrapped tightly around me so I couldn’t see his face.

“It was all my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was. It was because I was stubborn. If I hadn’t insisted so much…”

None of that would have happened to hyung.

Maybe it was a kind of defense mechanism. Maybe I couldn’t accept the consequences of what I’d done, or maybe I just didn’t want to face it. Maybe I just believed him when he kept whispering, ‘It’s not your fault.’

Either way, that’s how I forgot hyung’s face.

Until I saw Tati’s photograph.

In the photo, hyung was smiling. His face was unscarred, untouched by whatever happened afterward. He had no idea what would happen after that picture was taken.

I’ll never forget again.

“What’s wrong with a kid wanting to see his brother’s face?”

Hong Seok-yeong sipped the little coffee he had left and spoke.

“You did nothing wrong, you know? Hee-jae, if Irok asked to see your face, would you refuse him?”

“……”

“That’s it. You did nothing wrong.”

He said it in his usual, unaffected tone, but with a quiet force.

“If you want to blame someone… there are worse people out there.”

“…My mother?”

“That, and others.”

The lab, the Ark… all kinds of bad people.

Hong Seok-yeong set his empty cup on the table and leaned in to look at the photo in my hand.

“Blame them. Why blame someone innocent?”

“……”

“By the way, you really do look just like Irok.”

“…That’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Hong Seok-yeong chuckled.

“Must be a pain having brothers with the same name.”

“…What?”

“Irok might find it odd, but… you know how he is. That kid, he believes people in the weirdest ways, even though he’s so sly most of the time.”

I stared, unable to follow his train of thought.

But Hong Seok-yeong kept talking, whether I understood or not.

“If you ever need to change your name for some reason, he’ll go along with it. Brothers can have the same name. Right?”

“…What?”

“I mean your name.”

He pointed at my brother in the photo.

“I never met your brother, but I can tell he was a good person.”

“…You said you never met him.”

“He raised a great little brother. He couldn’t have been bad.”

“……”

“Do you want to go back to your original name?”

Hong Seok-yeong’s voice was light, but gentle.

“Do whatever you want. I’ll make sure you can do whatever you want.”

He said what he always said.

…No, it was Father who always said that. Always. That he’d let me do whatever I wanted.

I looked at the photo. The smiling young man, the sulking child. The worn edges weren’t Tati’s fault.

“No.”

I shook my head.

“I like this name.”

In the course of dealing with the Ark, I might one day come across an unidentified corpse in some remote place, like Kim Yuhwa. The body of a young man, scarred and worried for his little brother.

Or maybe I never would.

But I decided that was enough. I knew now that my brother hadn’t forgotten or abandoned me, and that I wasn’t the only one who remembered him.

And I knew that I wouldn’t forget him again.

“At first, I did use that name so hyung could find me.”

But it was my name, too. I’d lived as Woo Hee-jae far longer than the name my brother gave me.

“But I’ve lived as Woo Hee-jae.”

I don’t think a mere three syllables could change who I am.

Who I am is simple.

“I’m Hong Seok-yeong’s son.”

Family, friends—changing my name doesn’t make them any less mine.

“Whether my name is Woo Hee-jae or Woo Irok, that doesn’t change. Don’t you think?”

“That’s right. It doesn’t change. You’re my son.”

I bowed my head to my brother in the photo.

Don’t worry about your foolish little brother anymore. Rest easy.

What you couldn’t do… I’ll finish for you.

“So I am Woo Hee-jae.”

Unlike when I’d spoken to the police so long ago, this time I spoke with certainty.

“I am Woo Hee-jae.”

Hong Seok-yeong looked at me with steady eyes. No matter what I did, he would support me…

Father.

“Is that enough?”

“Yes.”

“All right.”

It’s enough.