Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 33
If I transfer schools… will I never see Cha Seokyung again? Maybe I’ll still get to see him once a week? What would Seokyung say if I told him I was moving? He wouldn’t just forget about me right away… right?
Those thoughts made my mood swing up and down like a seesaw, and my stepmom just sat there watching me with heavy, glassy eyes.
“…Yeonseo.”
“Yeah?”
“…Mom…”
Her words stopped there. She looked like someone who didn’t want to fill the silence. Her throat moved like she was trying to swallow something thick and stubborn.
“I’ll come get you, okay? Once I’m settled in Chungju, I’ll come get you right away.”
I didn’t get it at first. Wait—so I’m not going with her now?
“…Then… where do I stay until then?”
She squeezed my hand and lowered her head.
No way. That can’t be it. It can’t. But the question still slipped out, fragile and trembling.
“So… I just stay here? With Ji Sungbeom and the assistant? Just live here?”
She couldn’t even lift her head. Seeing that… it hit me. The thing I was afraid of was actually happening. It jammed into my throat like a fist, as if telling me to just swallow it and get it over with.
It was awful. The idea of staying in this house—with people who didn’t love me, didn’t care about me—felt impossible.
Alone. No stepmom, no younger siblings.
Just thinking about it left a hole in my chest. My voice stumbled out in pieces.
“Why… I mean, in two years I’ll be twenty. I’ll be an adult. I can work part-time, help with expenses, see my siblings in Chungju. I won’t be a burden. You know I can pull my weight…”
“Yeonseo …”
Hot tears dripped down my chin.
“Why are you leaving me behind…?”
“…Yeonseo. You might not understand now, but if you just get a little older—”
From her round eyes, even rounder drops of water fell one after another.
“I’ll come get you no matter what, okay? Once things are in place… when you’re an adult, you can live wherever you want. So just… Yeonseo.”
I understood. If she’d already made up her mind, there was no changing it. My head knew, but my heart refused.
Why me? Why do I have to stay in a house where I don’t like anyone, and no one likes me?
I shouldn’t have done it, but the resentment shot straight toward her—the only adult in this house who ever listened to me. My words came out like knives.
“…Is it because I’m not your real kid?”
“Yeonseo!”
“Because I’m not your biological child. That’s why you’re taking only Minjae and Mingyu, right?”
“Why wouldn’t you be my child?!”
She’d never laid a hand on me before, but now she smacked my shoulder and shouted through tears.
“Why wouldn’t you be my child?!”
“Then take me with you! Don’t leave me here alone!”
“Yeonseo …”
“Grandma was right. No matter how much you pretend to care, I’m still just an outsider.”
When I was little, always clinging to my stepmom’s skirt, Grandma had told me that like it was some life lesson.
“Ji Yeonseo!”
“This is why I never called you ‘Mom.’ I insisted on ‘Stepmom.’ I knew that if you and Dad ever split, you’d treat me like a stranger.”
I said it on purpose. To show her how badly she’d hurt me, how much pain I was in. I hated myself for only knowing how to talk like this, but I didn’t know what else to do.
She was crying so hard her shoulders shook. My heart ached like it was being torn apart, but tiny shards of resentment kept jabbing in between the pain.
I yanked my hand out of hers, stood up, and walked away. I locked my bedroom door and didn’t look back. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t care about the adults’ reasons.
If she really cared about me, she wouldn’t be able to leave me here. She knows exactly what it’ll be like for me—how could she still go?
Truth is, I’d hoped—hoped that even if she split from Dad, she wouldn’t just turn into a stranger to me.
Even though I always added “step” before “mom,” I’d still clung to that hope. I’d made it heavier for both of us. And now I’d ruined it.
The sadness wouldn’t dry up. It just kept welling over. I cried for a long time.
Under my blanket, I dialed Dad’s number. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. I hung up, tried again. And again. Nothing.
So I sent a text instead.
[I don’t want to live with you.]
The little envelope icon flew across the screen.
But I knew… Not wanting to live with Dad didn’t mean I could live with my stepmom. She didn’t want to take me.
So is there anyone—anywhere in Seoul, or in the whole world—who actually wants me around? Who wants me to stay?
…
Like an idiot, I thought of Cha Seokyung. The guy who didn’t answer when I asked if he liked me.
He’s nice to me, but I don’t actually know him. He never tells me anything about himself. So I can’t tell why he bothers with me.
Maybe I’ve been imagining it all along.
“Seokyung can’t just ignore people who’ve got it rough… So I figured— Yeonseo, you must be seriously messed up somehow. Messed up enough that Seokyung can’t just walk past without looking back.”
Why was I suddenly remembering what Baek Hyeji said?
Maybe his kindness was just part of who he is—a habit, like someone who can’t stand to hear crying and so acts polite. Maybe he just spotted something broken in me.
Still… right now, I wanted him. I wanted to be near him. I wanted to breathe him in.
Sniffling, I pulled the blanket down, grabbed a tissue, blew my nose. After hesitating, I found his number and hit call.
I thought he might ignore me like Dad did, but the moment the call connected, his voice came through.
“Hey, hello?”
He answered so fast it threw me off.
— “Ji Yeonseo. What’s wrong?”
“Uh, um… nothing, I just—”
— “…You’ve been crying? What’s with your voice?”
I quickly swallowed and cleared my throat.
“No, I just woke up. Air’s a little dry.”
— “Are you sick?”
“No, not sick…”
We both went quiet. I’d called, but now I didn’t know what to say. My stepmom’s leaving me felt too childish. Are you only nice to me because you pity me? felt too desperate.
— “Want me to come over?”
His voice was calm but threaded with that gentle tone that was just… him.
— “If you’ve got something to say, I’ll listen.”
“…Not about me.”
I wanted to think about anything other than Dad, the manager, my stepmom, Minjae, or Mingyu.
“Tell me about you, Seokyung.”
Silence on the other end. Maybe I’d asked something too personal. Should I just tell him to forget it—
— “If I tell you… can you promise not to hate me?”
“…”
— “Promise you won’t think I’m weird? Or hate me for it?”
“…I promise. I won’t hate you. I won’t think you’re weird.”
— “You can think I’m weird. I am weird. Just… don’t hate me.”
“…Okay. I promise.”
Our breathing filled the line for a moment before he spoke again.
— “When I first came to Korea, when I was fifteen… I think I was still normal then. I’ve always been a bit dull, but my brother used to call me boring. Still, I didn’t hate seeing people cry back then.”
He hesitated, then added quietly.
— “Once, when my brother cried, I cried too.”
“You?!”
So much for just listening quietly. The image of fifteen-year-old Seokyung crying because his brother was crying—it was hard to picture, and somehow… ridiculously cute.
— “…Not a lot. Just because he was so sad.”
I mean, I’d just been crying under my blanket at eighteen, so who was I to talk. But he sounded like he regretted admitting it.
— “Anyway… back then, I laughed more. Cried more. I think I had more expressions than I do now.”
I pictured a Seokyung with more smiles and laughter. It didn’t feel strange—it suited him. He’d always smiled for me.
— “It felt weird living in Korea permanently, not just visiting… but it was nice. I didn’t have to see Mom’s homesick face, and my brother and I liked it here. Most of all, in the States, Dad was always busy—work, work, and more work. But in Korea, he had weekends. Did I ever tell you? I look like him.”
“…Then your dad must be handsome too.”
He chuckled softly, asking if I’d only admit he’s good-looking when his dad comes up.
— “It was a good time. I felt… full. Like even if someone came with a bucket and scooped out a few cups, I’d still have plenty left.”
I could tell just from his voice—he really had been happy then. Remembering it softened his tone, like recalling a good dream.
Then I realized—everything he was saying was in past tense.
— “My dad’s in prison now.”