Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 66

B Side▐▐

Remember.
Please remember, Yeonseo.
Remember.

March 2002, spring.

“Seo… Seokyung-ah… I just want to forget everything. It’s too hard… here, and you too…”

A faint bluish bruise by your eye, big eyes overflowing with tears as if they’d spill at any second, your trembling voice as you said goodbye at eighteen.

“I thought I was okay, Seokyung… but I wasn’t. Not at all. Everything was just draining out of me… leaving me completely empty inside…”

You said it was the same for you as it was for me. If only it had been for some other reason.

“So… let’s stop here…”

With a sharp inhale, I opened my eyes. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was or what time it was. My disoriented gaze slowly focused on an unfamiliar ceiling. Something warm slid down my cheek. I wiped it away slowly, almost habitually.

Dreams are like old friends now. They don’t startle me the way they used to. Sometimes I even feel glad when she visits, as if she’s just stopping by to ask how I’ve been.

But the emptiness that comes afterward… I could never get used to it. It always left my chest cold, as if some part of me needed to ache before I could breathe again. I would turn myself inside out, even though there was nothing I could actually do.

Or maybe… maybe there would be something I could do tomorrow.

The moment that little spark of hope lifted its head, my heart started to beat faster. I sat up abruptly, struck by the thought that I couldn’t just stay here like this. I climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

What if. Maybe. Possibly.

Those what-ifs started as vague possibilities and slowly became vivid, tangible scenes in my mind. The odds were good enough — after all, not a single wrong-number call had come in the past two years. I ignored that fact. She had said something back then. Ji Yeonseo had said we should do it that way.

After my shower, I got dressed and reviewed my enrollment papers again. I wondered if I should visit the English Literature lecture hall or the department office today, just in case. That’s when the doorbell rang — a rare sound here.

What if. Maybe. Possibly.

I rushed to the door. But the scene I had vaguely hoped for didn’t happen.

“Even if you don’t act happy to see me, at least don’t look so disappointed. You haven’t seen your mother in six months, Seokyung.”

“…You’re here.”

I stepped aside to let her in. She took off her shoes neatly and stepped inside, looking around the place with a mix of unfamiliarity and unease. It was a space she visited maybe twice a year, and only for very special reasons.

“…I told you to at least get some proper furniture.”

“This is comfortable enough for me.”

In the kitchen, just a table. In the living room, a massive wooden desk and a computer. I could see her tremble faintly as they took in the bare space, but I pretended not to notice.

“Want something to drink?”

“Do you even have anything to offer?”

“…I have water, at least.”

She didn’t press further. I poured her a glass of water and handed it to her. She took a sip, sitting at the table, as if searching for the right words.

“Tomorrow’s your entrance ceremony, right?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to keep living here alone? It’s far. Just come back to my place. You can use the whole second floor. Or I’ll get you an officetel near school.”

“It’s fine.”

“Seokyung, I don’t understand you. Wookyung’s busy, and my heart’s been broken… but I’ve endured for you. I may be a lousy mother, but I wanted to at least hold onto you. You didn’t even react when I suggested we go to the U.S. together. You dropped out of school — what’s keeping you here? Why should I leave you in this empty house?”

She closed her eyes and opened them again, forcing her emotions down.

“You probably resent me a lot, and you probably don’t care, but I’ve worn myself down over the past two years too. I lost one perfectly fine child, and now even the younger one is just… here, in this empty house. What parent could be okay with that?”

“……”

“Come to the U.S. with me. I’ve prepared everything. We can work on any scores or requirements later—”

“No. I’m not going. I’m going to finish school here, as planned.”

“Why? Honestly, with your grades, you could’ve gone to Korea University. Why Yeono University? I just don’t get you, Seokyung.”

“You don’t have to.” That was all I could say.

What if. Maybe. Possibly.

Those what-ifs — I could keep them to myself. I didn’t need anyone’s understanding. That would be enough.

What if… maybe… I could see her again.

***

 June 2002, Summer

“Um… we’re in the Western Music History class together. Do you remember me?”

I was walking out of the library when a short-haired girl stepped in front of me. I did take that class, but I didn’t remember this face. When our eyes met, she hesitated for a moment, lips twitching, then spoke carefully.

“I’ve been watching you since the first class… If it’s okay, could I get your number? It’s nothing else — just, maybe we could work on the assignment together—”

I walked right past her without a word. She called after me, but her voice felt even less real than the whine of summer mosquitoes.

Even among fully grown adults, at a university with thousands of students, rumors somehow spread without fail. I knew my classmates in Business Administration whispered about how “Cha Seokyung from the class of ’02” had no manners. But I had chosen to be an outsider, so I didn’t particularly care. If anything, I was in a “whatever happens, happens” state of mind.

Early summer, after the last exam, the campus was buzzing with end-of-semester excitement. But I didn’t feel any of it. I could draw every corner of this campus with my eyes closed, yet nowhere could I find the person I was looking for.

“I’m going to Yeono University! They say if we take the college entrance exam together and get in, we’ll be oxygen class numbers.”

The pale, pink-cheeked girl who once said that was nowhere to be found. You said you’d come to Yeono too, so where are you now?

“Sunbae, are you going to Gwanghwamun later?”

“It’s probably going to be packed today. Wouldn’t it be better to watch it at the department lounge tonight?”

“Ah, but it’s the semifinals! You’ve got to enjoy historic moments together!“

I passed by people in red T-shirts, chatting about the month’s hottest topic — the World Cup — and thought of you again.

“If Korea loses badly, I’ll meet you for a drink to cheer you up.”

Would you remember? That promise we made. Would it still count now?

But that hope collapsed before it could take shape. Contrary to your words, Korea just wouldn’t lose. The news even started predicting that we might win the entire World Cup.

“…Ji Yeonseo, you were wrong about everything.”

When the whole world was burning red, I was sinking into gray. It crossed my mind — maybe Korea’s refusal to lose was just a reflection of your unwillingness to see me. That wasn’t like me, thinking that way. But still, my mouth tasted bitter.

What if. Maybe. Possibly.

Back then, I still carried those possibilities like a breeze in my chest. If just once a coincidence like that could happen for us.

“The Korean national team’s first-ever bid for the World Cup finals has sadly come to an end. They fell just short of the final, but the miracle of 2002, written by our Taeguk Warriors, will be remembered for years to come.”

Hearing that morning news anchor say those words, I froze — then bolted to my room and grabbed my wallet. I didn’t have time to think anymore. If there was even the thinnest thread to grasp, I wanted to hold it. I couldn’t keep living like this.

I hailed a taxi to the intercity bus terminal and bought the earliest ticket. My eyes stayed calm as I watched the summer scenery slide past the window, but my mind was a whirlwind.

Only then did I realize — I was exhausted. I’d imagined chance encounters thousands, tens of thousands of times. Built up frames of expectation, then knocked them down. Over and over, for two years.

When I got off at the Chungju terminal, I hesitated. But I didn’t want to go back. I splashed cold water on my face in the restroom, trying to steady my thoughts.

In the mirror, a pale-faced man stared back. I worried — had I lost too much weight? Would Yeonseo find me unfamiliar? Or… maybe I shouldn’t meet her like this at all. Not if she didn’t want to.

“……”

I want to see you.

That single thought swept away the endless worries. The moment I stepped out into the heavy summer air, knowing you were breathing the same air somewhere in this city, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold back.

I want to see you. Just once more, to talk.

To tell you that back then, things had happened. That I was sorry I couldn’t stay by your side. That I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t want to hurt you — you, who cared more about others’ ashes than your own burning feet. You, with that bruised face I couldn’t bear to mention.

I wanted to tell you everything.

I left the terminal and asked for directions — though I already knew the way. Two years ago, right after you moved, Mingyu had sent me an email asking how I was. He’d mentioned you’d opened a shop near the market. I deleted the email right away, but memorized it. Maybe I’d been waiting for this day.

At the end of the street I was guided to, I saw the shop sign from that email. My heart — I hadn’t even realized it was racing — suddenly pounded hard. I hid behind a corner, the shop just steps away.

What should I say? Make it sound casual, like a coincidence, so you wouldn’t back away.

It’s been a while. How have you been? Oh, did you watch the match yesterday? Weird, meeting like this. By the way, do you remember that promise we joked about?

What would you say? Would you be awkward? Or would your face go cold? How had you changed, Yeonseo?

My palms were damp. My lips were dry. My throat burned.

Maybe I wouldn’t see you at all today. That thought gnawed at me — the fear of missing even your uncomfortable expression. The fear of not seeing your face at all.

“Ah, seriously, Oh Yeongeun!”

The voice froze me where I stood. Slowly, I turned my head and there you were, like a vision. Long black hair swaying, wearing the same red T-shirt as any other passerby in this World Cup summer.

“What? What’s wrong with writing fanfiction about soccer players? It’s popular. Want me to tell you more?”

A girl who seemed to be your friend whispered something in your ear, making you wrinkle your nose like you were disgusted. She teased you a little more and then you burst out laughing. A clear, bright laugh.

Your mouth curved up beautifully, your whole face glowing with comfort and happiness — that deep, sunlit well I had loved so much.

It’s been a while, Yeonseo. Do you remember that promise?

But instead of speaking the words I’d prepared, I turned away. I walked back the way I’d come — fled, really. Behind me, your laughter lingered like the faint trace of a storybook.

We promised, didn’t we? You told me — standing under that streetlight, while I couldn’t bring myself to turn back — you told me, in a voice tangled with tears.

“…Se… Seokyung-ah… when we grow up… someday, if by chance…”

You said if we met by chance, you’d see me again. And I — who couldn’t even hold onto you when you said you were empty, I — who knew that emptiness better than anyone — I didn’t even realize I’d be clinging endlessly to that “if.”

“…hh… hhhkk—”

The tears came without warning, knocking me forward as if I’d been punched in the gut. On an empty street, I leaned against a wall and sank to my knees. The tears I’d never shed when my brother left came now — breaking out as raw, shuddering sobs.

You, smiling so prettily. You, radiant. You, no longer crying.

And my first thought seeing that was — I’m glad, Yeonseo. I’m so glad you’re not empty anymore. That you can smile like that again.

I was truly relieved. That the last face I remembered of you wouldn’t forever be the crying eighteen-year-old from that day. That your smile could still be so bright, it made me cry.

“…ha… hhkkk…”

And yet, the reason my sobs dragged on so long was because I didn’t think I could ever make you smile like that again. That you’d never look at me with those eyes again.

That you’d never again let me see the face that laughed and sulked and teased and argued with me.

I wasn’t empty anymore. I was filled entirely with you. And you had left my side for good.

I had the feeling that Ji Yeonseo would never remember me, or our promise.

That really, truly, everything was over.

And it felt like the ground was opening beneath my feet, pulling me down along with my tears.