Runner-up's Revenge

“I didn’t want this to happen either. I was doing it because I have people depending on me and responsibilities to take care of.”

Mom was lying in the hospital bed, covering her forehead with the back of her hand. Thinking some sunlight might be seeping in, Dowon drew the curtains, but Mom stopped him.

“It’s stuffy, leave them open.”

“Oh, okay.”

Mom, who had been groaning with her face buried in the pillow, now hugged her blanket close.

“Your dad is always like that,” she said. “He tries to handle everything by himself, and then things just spiral out of control. Then I’m the one left cleaning up the mess, over and over again.”

His mother’s voice was deeply strained and cracked. Dowon felt as if a heavy boulder were pressing down on his shoulders. He stood there, holding onto the curtain, half leaning against it.

“I hate my life. I didn’t want to live like this…”

Every time Dowon heard the tearful tremble in his mother’s voice, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He wanted to tell her to leave everything behind and run away. He wanted to ask if she thought there might be someone else struggling more than her here. But instead, he just stood there silently, gripping the curtain.

“I’ve fought against wanting to just die over and over.”

How should a child react when a parent says they want to die? Every time Dowon saw this vulnerable side of his mother, it felt like something inside his chest was crumbling.

“You’re the only reason that I’m still alive…”

This single sentence was harder to hear than “I wanted to die” or “It’s too hard.” The fact that he alone was carrying all this burden, and that he was her only purpose, was crueler and heavier than anything else he had heard before.

“That foolish man… That stupid old man. Why did he run away instead of just telling his son first…”

The way she spoke with absolute certainty that her son would take care of everything…

“Don’t hate your father too much. He’s just from an older generation, trying to shoulder everything alone.”

And amidst it all, that self-deprecating look, as if she still loved his father despite everything.

“It’s okay if I hate him, but you shouldn’t. He’s the father who gave you life.”

Did a person even need permission to hate?

“Son, don’t worry too much. I can soon go out and work too.” Her eyes were reddening now. “You don’t look so good… What did you do to deserve a mother like me?”

Blocking his escape route with a final word, so that he couldn’t fully bring himself to hate her—that was his mother’s pattern.

Dowon felt despair at being unable to say anything— he could express neither resentment towards his father, nor resentment towards his mother, who couldn’t let go of the man who hurt her time and time again. He couldn’t even offer a reassuring word that he would take care of everything. He could voice none of it.

He left the hospital room as if escaping.

But even after leaving, nothing had changed. He was painfully aware that, despite fleeing his mother’s bedside, he hadn’t truly escaped at all.

The ringing of the phone seemed to grab hold of his ankle, keeping him rooted in place. With trembling hands, Dowon answered the call.

“…Dad.”

“Dowon, is anyone with you?”

Not even a hello, just making sure it was safe to talk in secret. When he said there was no one, Dad sighed deeply and began to speak.

“I’m sorry, Dowon. I’m sorry… I’m sorry for only calling you now.”

Dowon clung to a glimmer of hope. Maybe everything was over, and he had called to sincerely apologize.

“Dad, you’re okay, right? Where are you now?”

“I’m down where grandma used to live, just for a little while.”

Was there some work in that area? Dowon listened quietly to his father’s words, holding onto hope.

“I’m really sorry, Dowon. As a father, I shouldn’t have given such a burden to you.”

“Dad—”

“I’m really sorry, I’m sorry. Please forgive me just this once.”

Dowon felt the spark of hope gradually fading.

“Dad… Is something wrong?”

“By any chance… Could you come down here for a bit?”

It wasn’t over. In fact, it was only getting worse.

“Once this whole thing is over, I can come right back home. So, if you could bring around a million won, we’ll settle things and head back to Seoul. I heard Mom is working right now, is that true?”

The moment he realized he was going to cry, he could already feel the tears soaking his face. Dowon hung up on his father, and stood crying, in the middle of the street.

He couldn’t say “Just go kill yourself,” “Die alone,” “How dare you ask for my forgiveness,” or “All of this is your fault, so the least you could do is end your miserable life.”

No, he didn’t have the energy to say it. He didn’t have the strength to bring up something that would bring no resolution. Dowon just slumped against a wall and buried his face in his knees.

“I want to die…”

Dowon had been crushed, buried under a tree felled by his father. No one was there to pull him out.

“Hana…”

He couldn’t tell Hana, the only one who always pulled him above the surface when he began drowning. He had lied to Hana, and left her struggling, just so he could talk to Dahye on the phone. How could he possibly call Hana back just to talk about his own troubles?

Guilt held his fingers back from reaching out and spreading his depression even further.

He really wanted to die. Not in an overdramatic whining kind of way. He really wanted to die. Yet, the reasons why he couldn’t die kept clawing at Dowon’s mind. Like an abscess bursting, the burdens he carried began to spread and seep through his thoughts.

There was no time to grieve for the loss of his will to live. The scheduled call time with Dahye was approaching. With a sinking heart, Dowon had no choice but to dial her number. In a situation where even the time was set, not making the call would mean failing to repay the interest.

“Hello, Dowon.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Hello?”

Even though he could hear Dahye’s voice clearly, he couldn’t answer. His throat refused to produce even a sound. He knew he had to say something, but his tear ducts seemed to be the only things responding. Tears kept welling up, threatening to spill over, so he pressed his lips against the back of his hand, trying to hold them back.

“…Um…” he choked out.”

“Dowon, are you crying?”

He bit down hard on his lip, tasting salt.

“What’s wrong? Where are you? Tell me where you are now.”

Had Dahye’s voice always been this warm? With every question Dahye asked, it felt like Dowon’s tears were rising even faster, uncontrollably.

Dahye was acting as if she cared about Dowon now. Even though the call was for her to vent her stress, Dahye wasn’t bringing up her own woes, but was instead checking on Dowon.

Dahye, who was practically his enemy, was now the one worrying about him. No one else seemed to care about Dowon, yet the person who probably despised him the most was the one showing concern.

Even though Dowon truly wanted to die, he knew he shouldn’t, and he found himself wanting to cling to Dahye’s lifeline. Despite the fear of this irony, he felt an overwhelming urge to express the suffocating despair rising within him.

“…Sunnam Hospital…”

“I’m coming now.”

He knew he had to refuse. He couldn’t afford to owe Dahye any more. But in the end, Dowon couldn’t bring himself to say a word.

He had to talk to someone about the abyss that was threatening to swallow him whole. It felt like, otherwise, he would die.

***

“If I had gotten a proper job from the start, or if I had done well in college, this wouldn’t have happened. No, if I had…”

Dowon let everything pour out of him, whimpering as if he didn’t know who was in front of him. Despite the fact that the person in front of him had spent the last few months tearing him down piece by piece, Dowon’s desire to spit everything out was stronger.

Even though Dahye would be thrilled to hear that everything had gone wrong for Dowon from the start, Dowon just wanted to confess everything. There was no one else to listen to Dowon’s miserable story, and he felt like he would explode from the inside if he didn’t get it out.

“So I—”

“Dowon Lee.”

Dahye cut off his babbling firmly. Dowon looked at Dahye, somewhat coming back to himself and gauging her expression.

“…You probably think it’s all my fault…” he muttered.

“How on earth is this your fault? Did your father borrow money because you couldn’t get a job, because you couldn’t do well in college? Obviously not. How is it your fault that he borrowed that money? Why would you be at fault when it was your father who ran off with all that money?”

Dowon trembled, his gaze fixed on Dahye. She wasn’t pretending. In fact, she looked so frustrated and angry that it seemed she might grab him by the collar any moment.

“I’m just so enraged,” Dahye said. “It’s impressive enough that you’re trying to pay off the money your father borrowed and take responsibility for your mother’s medical bills. Why are you blaming yourself for all of that?”

“…But still, this is—”

“If it were me, no, if it were anyone else, they would have run away long ago.”

Dowon didn’t understand why Dahye was saying these things. When Dowon dropped his gaze, Dahye struck his shoulder hard.

“Dowon. Dowon Lee. Get a grip. You’re really amazing. I couldn’t do what you’re doing, you know.”

“…Thank… you.”

What was she planning? Was Dahye genuinely praising Dowon? As Dowon struggled to make sense of it, Dahye watched with worried eyes.

“Still, don’t try to take responsibility for everything,” she said.

Dahye was popular in high school, thanks to her kind, good-natured personality. Even back then, Dowon often saw her comforting students who couldn’t keep their mental state in check, offering them solace when they were feeling down.

Maybe Dahye had shown her mean side because the person on the receiving end was Dowon Lee. Dahye always embraced, encouraged, and comforted people. Even the teachers all liked Dahye and took good care of her.

Let’s not pretend to realize this just now. Dahye was always kind, and this was all my karma…

It made sense that Dahye had always been a kind person, and their relationship had soured because Dowon had despised and tormented her. Dowon probably would have done the same. Even if someone was a caring person, would they really be able to show kindness to someone who had disregarded and tormented them, all while mocking their achievements?

Dahye was doing it now. In fact, Dowon wondered if the Dahye before him had been born from his mistakes. Despite his thoughts, he allowed himself to listen to Dahye’s comforting words. They were exactly what he wanted to hear, but hearing them only made him feel worse.

***

Each time she gently tapped his shoulder to snap him out of it, his shoulders would tremble, then slump back down. Whenever she offered him praise or comfort, he would barely respond, his voice faltering in gratitude, as if struggling to even speak.

It’s fucking hilarious.

Dahye thought it was fortunate that Dowon was listening with his head bowed, because if he looked up, he would see the corners of her mouth twitching.

Was she fighting back laughter because Dowon had truly hit rock bottom and was showing her his most vulnerable side? Was it because, even in a situation like this, she was the only one he could rely on? Was it because he’d come to the person he once hurt, seeking sympathy, and revealing that he’d been living without anyone to lean on?

Maybe she felt better knowing Dowon had been enduring everything alone, without anyone to support him.

“Dowon, don’t cry. You’re really doing well.”

It was nonsense. She didn’t care at all about what kind of life Dowon was living. Dahye gently patted his shoulder. She wanted to keep reminding him that it was none other than herself who was comforting him right now.

“Thank you, Dahye…”

She almost lost her battle against the laughter. Dahye couldn’t understand where this inexplicable pleasure was coming from. Perhaps it was so complex that even she couldn’t puzzle it out.

How out of his mind did Dowon have to be to thank the person who had been belittling and mocking him until just a few days ago? She felt better than ever because Dowon seemed like the most fragile thing in the world.

The fact that Dowon’s only source of support, the one who truly understood what he was going through, and said the words he needed to hear, was Dahye… It made her smile creep back again and again.

“Dowon, it’s okay.”

She wished he wasn’t okay. She wanted him to break down and fall apart, to seek her out again and rely solely on her. She was sure he would crumble again, thinking it was okay to reach for her after seeing her kind heart and hearing her reassurances, despite the fact that she was the person who once tormented him.

“It’s okay, don’t cry.”

In Dahye’s opinion, he should cry. She wanted him to scream, to spill everything he had bottled up inside, and show Dahye his ugliest side. Then Dahye would take that brokenness, dismantle it piece by piece, and use it to relieve her own stress every night after work.

“Thank you, Dahye.”

Idiot.

Dahye felt like she couldn’t hold back her smile any longer, so she hugged Dowon to cover her face. She patted his back, murmuring gently.

“It’s okay, Dowon.”