My Sunshine Boy - Chapter 1

At eighteen, Jung-yoon saw the form of “pride” for the first time. Pride, or having one’s pride wounded. Something that had never shown its shape or position before became a sharp object that pierced Jung-yoon’s heart as his home collapsed.

At first, it was just a prick, then more pricks, and finally, a deep stab. The once bright and laughter-filled world around him quickly turned into darkness. The attitudes of once-kind people changed, and friends disappeared. As he rushed his collapsed father to the hospital and resorted to borrowing money from loan sharks due to the immediate need for money, Jung-yoon gradually lost his smile and spoke less.
Tears, which had never flowed in his life before, began to come frequently. His mother, who had once enjoyed cooking for the family and doing housework, started working as a housekeeper to make ends meet.

They might have found other work if they had more time to look, but they needed money immediately to survive. Above all, there wasn’t the luxury of time to explore different opportunities.
Something had to be done right away. Right this moment. As if mocking them, as if things were finally going according to plan, someone had looked down and introduced that job like they were doing a favor. With a forced smile, Jung-yoon’s mother accepted it, saying she was fine.

But at night, she would secretly cry powerlessly while looking at a photo of Jung-yoon’s father. Every night, the suppressed sobs from behind made it so Jung-yoon’s eyelashes never stayed dry. Plans for a good university or studying abroad naturally disappeared. For Jung-yoon, money was the most important thing now. Even after selling everything they had to repay debts, there was still an enormous amount left, and Jung-yoon had to earn money for both his mother’s and his own daily survival.

Two years passed like that. After becoming an adult, there was only one good thing: age was no longer a burden when looking for part-time jobs. It meant being able to work without restrictions, even late into the night. The face that once constantly sparkled with smiles, having grown up surrounded by love, was no longer recognizable. Though two years had passed since the family collapsed, Jung-yoon still sometimes cried in secret, away from his mother.

It was something beyond his control. He would remember his kind father and his mother’s calloused hands, and the seemingly endless long darkness that enveloped them.

When Jung-yoon opened his eyes, he saw the ceiling. And at the same time, his mother’s tear-streaked face filled his vision. He quickly tried to make sense of the situation. He had been working at the convenience store, so why was he lying in an unfamiliar place now, and why was his mother here?

“Jung-yoon, are you awake? Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Do you know how worried I was?”
His mother bombarded him with questions, her tears falling steadily. It was then that Jung-yoon remembered feeling dizzy at the convenience store. That was his last memory, so he must have passed out afterward.

“I told you not to push yourself so hard like that. How can anyone survive working through the night every day, getting only two or three hours of sleep?”

“Mom, I’m fine. Don’t cry, okay?”

Jung-yoon, who was comforting his trembling, crying mother as she held his hand, made eye contact with the doctor approaching the bed as the curtains were drawn aside.

“Are you feeling more alert now? Is there any discomfort?”

“Uh… no, I’m fine.”

“Have you been eating properly?”

“…I try to.”

“Just trying isn’t enough; you really need to take care of your meals. You’re malnourished right now. To put it simply, you’re taking in too little, but expending too much energy. You absolutely must eat regularly. If you don’t, you’ll collapse like this again, and if it keeps happening, it could lead to serious consequences. Your immune system will break down, and that could lead to all sorts of infections, not to mention damage to your heart and kidneys.”

Seeing his mother standing there with her hands clasped together like a guilty person, silently crying as the doctor spoke, made Jung-yoon’s heart ache. As he listened to his mother repeatedly promise to take better care of him, he stared at the IV drip flowing into his body. He knew he hadn’t been feeling great the past few days, but he never imagined he would collapse to the point where he couldn’t even remember what happened. His mother was right—his work schedule had probably been too brutal.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t realize it. From 8:30 a.m. to 2 p.m., he worked at a sandwich shop, and immediately after that, he rushed three stations over to work at a café until 10 p.m. When that shift ended, he walked five minutes to a convenience store where he worked the night shift from 11 p.m. to 6 a.m. In reality, he only got about two hours of sleep each day. That much was only possible because the convenience store was so close to home.

As soon as his shift ended at 6 a.m., Jung-yoon would head home, arriving around 6:15. By the time he washed up and lay down, it was a little past 6:30, leaving him with exactly two hours of sleep before starting the day again at 8:30 a.m. He had been keeping up this routine for five months. While doing it, he’d convinced himself that he had adapted and that nothing was impossible. But now, lying there completely drained, he realized it might have been too much.

“You can go home once you finish this IV. It’s best to start with something light on your stomach, like porridge. After that, focus on protein, fruits, and vegetables. Make sure to eat regularly and include a variety of foods in your meals.”

“If I feed him well and let him rest, there won’t be any serious issues, right? He’s not in any real danger, is he?”
his mother asked, her voice filled with worry.

“No, as long as he eats well and rests, he’ll be fine. Right now, the best medicine for him is proper nutrition and rest. Please make sure he doesn’t overexert himself for a while and gets plenty of rest.”

As Jung-yoon sat up halfway and bowed his head in thanks, his mother, eyes brimming with tears as soon as she looked at him, gently laid him back down.

“Quit all your part-time jobs,”
she said.

“How can I do that… I’ll just quit the convenience store. The café ends by 10, so I can work until then, okay?”

“No, you can’t. How can you stand on your feet all day with your body like this? Please listen to me. You’re all I have left now, and if you push yourself and get sick like this, what will I do? If something happens to you, I truly won’t be able to go on. Please, just this once, listen to your mother, okay? I’m begging you, Jung-yoon.”

Hearing his mother pleading like that, he couldn’t continue to be stubborn. Jung-yoon reluctantly nodded his head. Only then did his mother breathe a sigh of relief, gently brushing his hair and stroking his cheek.

Worries about how they would repay next month’s debt filled Jung-yoon’s mind, but despite the anxiety, sleep kept pressing down on him. He knew this wasn’t the time to be lying comfortably, yet his eyes felt so heavy, and his strength was slipping away. Was it because he was lying down during a time when he should be working? Or maybe it was because this was the first time in five months that he was able to lie down during the hours when most people were asleep?

“It’s going to take a bit longer for the IV to finish, so don’t think about anything. Don’t worry, just get some deep sleep. It’s okay.”

“Really… it’s okay?”

“Of course. It’s okay. Mom’s here. My baby has been through so much, even though you’re still so young.”

Jung-yoon wanted to reassure his mother, to tell her not to cry, that he was okay, but his eyes kept closing on their own. Barely able to squeeze his mother’s hand gently in return, he let out a deep breath as his heavy eyelids finally shut completely.

The scent of disinfectant faded as sleep, sweet to the point of being almost frightening, overtook Jung-yoon.

—

After receiving the IV and regaining some of his strength, the thought that quitting all his part-time jobs was unreasonable in their current situation crept back into his mind. However, his mother, uncharacteristically firm, insisted that he quit every job. In the end, Jung-yoon explained his situation and resigned from all three part-time jobs.

He felt terribly guilty for quitting so suddenly, without giving them time to find replacements. But the store owners, who had seen Jung-yoon’s pale face, looking as if he might collapse at any moment, were more concerned for his health. They urged him to rest well and told him to come back anytime he wanted to work again, offering kind words of reassurance.

With nothing to do, Jung-yoon spent ten days mostly sleeping. It was as if he were making up for the five months of sleep he had missed, resting almost entirely except for mealtimes. He ate heartily, enjoying the strong dishes his mother prepared, and soon his once sickly face became more vibrant, and he gained a little weight. Although he was still thin enough to be considered underweight, he had moved past the point of looking seriously ill.

Today, after eating the seaweed soup his mother had left for him and the side dishes she had prepared at her workplace, Jung-yoon finished washing the dishes and glanced at the pile of bedding in the corner of his room. It had been untouched for ten days. Just last night, he had found himself instinctively lying on top of it, falling asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. But today, he realized he didn’t feel the same overwhelming urge to sleep all day. Perhaps he was recovering after all.

What should he do now? Since the collapse of their home, it was the first time he faced such a quiet period where he didn’t have to do anything.

The emptiness of time after nearly two years made him uneasy. A wave of guilt washed over him at the thought of wasting time like this, especially now that he had quit all his part-time jobs and had nothing urgent to do. It felt strange not having anything to fill his days.

What had he done during times like this before? Jung-yoon tried to recall his past self. It didn’t feel that long ago, just two years, yet it seemed so distant and vague.