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chapter 63
We carefully placed the small porcelain piece we were holding onto the prepared shelf.
“Done.”
The porcelain, resting gracefully on the velvet stand we had deliberately set, had been won at an auction at the Eunyang Foundation event not long ago.
Its elegant curves reflected subtle colors depending on the angle of the light, making it far more beautiful than it had appeared at the event.
She smiled with satisfaction, dusted off her hands, and turned around.
“Good. And next.”
She looked toward the other auctioned items placed behind us.
These were the items that Yoonjae had fallen silent over for about two minutes after seeing the final bid amounts.
But there was no doubt: these items would increase in value several times over in the future. They were undoubtedly worth it.
As we arranged everything, the monochrome house gradually became colorful according to her taste. Yet, it blended subtly with the existing interior, without disturbing it.
“The house feels so bright and cheerful, ma’am.”
Even Mrs. Kim, clearly not an expert, seemed to think so.
“There was one more thing I wanted to bid on, but it wouldn’t have matched the overall look, so I didn’t get it.”
Buying everything recklessly would have turned decorations into mere clutter.
Shaking her head at our regret, Mrs. Kim said:
“We can fill in what’s missing, piece by piece. Just like this. Now it finally feels like a home with people living in it.”
As she spoke, warmth gradually began to fill the house.
After arranging the last auctioned piece, we spoke to Mrs. Kim, who was dusting off surfaces:
“Mrs. Kim, you can leave early today.”
“Huh?”
“You don’t need to prepare dinner or anything.”
Mrs. Kim’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Are you on a diet again?”
The word again somehow pricked my conscience.
“I gave up. I realized it just made me irritable.”
“Oh, that’s wise. Where would you even need to lose weight?”
It sounded like the well-meaning advice grandmothers give their grandchildren on holidays.
She fiddled with the ring that had become snug again after the weight she had briefly lost returned and said as she helped us tidy up:
“I have to go out for a bit.”
“What about the meal for the Executive Director?”
“It’s fine. I’ll go with you.”
I smiled at her responsible thoughtfulness, and Mrs. Kim’s eyes lit up immediately.
“Yes, ma’am. Have a good time.”
Seeing the two of us get along so well seemed to make her happy, as if we were her own daughters.
“…Yes.”
But today’s outing wasn’t just for a pleasant reason.
We gazed out the window beyond the living room, where we had started decorating slowly with our own touches.
Outside the high-rise window, the sky was clear. Not a single cloud marred the deep blue expanse.
It might not be a good time.
Soon, that was also where they needed to go.
<Blue Sky Orphanage>
Yoonjae and I had driven two full hours to reach our destination.
Nestled at the foot of a mountain, far from the city center, the orphanage wasn’t very large.
Freshly brewed coffee was placed on the sofa in the director’s office, where they sat.
“Here, have some.”
“Thank you.”
The coffee, in plain white cups matching the modest atmosphere of the office, was instant coffee. Neither Yoonjae nor I particularly enjoyed it, but we each took a sip.
The coffee was sweet and fragrant.
The director, pacing briefly around the sofa in hesitation, soon retrieved a thick set of documents from a drawer, still fidgeting slightly.
The two of us drank in silence. Once about half the coffee was gone, the director finally sat down.
“This… this should never happen.”
The hand holding the documents trembled with confusion and guilt.
Yoonjae spoke gently, as if to calm her:
“As for the sponsorship, it will proceed exactly as we discussed.”
“….”
“There will be no taking of documents out, no photographs. Everything you see and hear here will remain as if it never happened.”
With his calm words, the director placed the documents on the table. He added:
“Nothing will happen to the orphanage or to you.”
He slid the documents toward us.
They were the records of Joo Ae-jung’s time at the orphanage.
The orphanage Yoonjae had painstakingly researched had almost no sponsorship, and the land it was built on wasn’t even theirs. The orphanage had been in such a precarious position that closure had been discussed.
Upon learning this, Yoonjae had immediately purchased the land, secured it, promised annual sponsorship matching their previous contributions, and obtained the records.
“Where should we start?”
Even the memories not recorded in writing.
“Joo Ae-jung.”
Though it was a strategy to exploit the director’s weaknesses to protect the orphanage, it was necessary for us.
We focused on the director first, rather than the records before us.
Somehow, our hands and feet tingled. Even though it wasn’t our story, our lips felt dry.
“Twenty years, no… more than twenty years.”
The director took a deep breath and carefully began recalling memories she had struggled to retrieve after being contacted.
“Honestly, I don’t remember everything perfectly. I can’t say it’s completely accurate.”
“That’s fine. Just tell us whatever you remember.”
We calmed her nerves and handed her family photos of Ae-jung from our diary.
She looked at them quietly, then looked up at us:
“I took these photos myself.”
She didn’t recognize Ae-jung.
It had been so long, and she wasn’t wearing glasses, so it was natural. Yoonjae had deliberately decided not to reveal the truth, thinking it better if they didn’t know each other.
“Before the name here was changed, according to our records, she was adopted at the age of six. The people were ordinary and good. They regularly volunteered at our orphanage.”
The director continued:
“When Ae-jung first came here, they were there. She was only three months old. The couple visited her regularly and adopted her when she turned six.”
Her voice faltered; she clasped her hands to steady herself.
“They continued volunteering with Ae-jung for years. Sometimes other children came along too. Years later, it must have been Ae-jung’s birthday.”
One evening after volunteering, heavy snow began to fall. It was close to Christmas, and the couple was returning home later than usual. The director suggested they wait until the snow stopped.
[No. My son’s home alone, so I have to go. It’s a familiar route, so we can go slowly. Don’t worry.]
Trusting those words, they left.
A few hours later, after the snow had stopped, the accident occurred: their car collided with a drunk driver coming the opposite way and rolled down a slope.
The husband died instantly; the wife held her child but died in the hospital.
“It was a miracle. Ae-jung survived without major injury. If not for the mother holding her… this happened when Ae-jung was twelve.”
The director wiped her wet eyes recalling the small, frail child.
“She didn’t wake for a few days. Only on the day of the couple’s funeral did she awaken. I didn’t want to send her, but they insisted, so I took her. That’s when the child’s older brother, the couple’s son…”
The memory came vividly, almost impossibly.
The sixteen-year-old boy slapped the twelve-year-old Ae-jung and started beating her openly.
Even trying to intervene was impossible. Amidst the chaos, Seong-gyun shouted:
[It’s your fault. You killed our parents! If it weren’t for you! You did this! You killed them! Bring my mom back! Bring my dad back!]
The director closed her eyes tightly, letting out a deep sigh.
“Of course, I could stop the hitting, but not the words. I shouldn’t have… I should have taken her far away, but I couldn’t.”
Ae-jung endured the beatings without complaint, absorbing every harsh word.
“….”
Unconsciously, we clutched a scar on our own wrist. We felt the trembling.
We recalled Joo Ae-jung, who always suffered silently, drowning in relentless guilt and self-inflicted pain.
Joo Ae-jung.
Even though it wasn’t our story, it penetrated deeply into our hearts. Yoonjae held her trembling hand.
“For a year or two, we kept in contact. The children had some inheritance from their parents and went to a relative’s house, as we heard.”
“Was there talk of being returned or abandoned?”
“No. None of that. I think the inheritance had something to do with Ae-jung being able to live with Seong-gyun.”
Then, due to our circumstances worsening and moving the orphanage, all contact was cut off. Only these records remained… But they had sold the child.
Overcome with lingering guilt, the director covered her face with her hands.
Hearing her sobs, we felt our hearts pound.
Seong-gyun’s cruel words flashed through our minds:
[Don’t act pathetic. You should apologize, not me. Why is our house like this? Why am I living like this? What, little sister?]
[Go away. I never needed someone like you from the start.]
Ae-jung must have heard such harsh words for years, her whole life. Money would have meant nothing to her. Our hearts pounded erratically, the weight in the back of our heads heavy.
The unwelcome thrum of our hearts was so intense that our vision blurred for a moment.
Unable to imagine such a story, Yoonjae brought the documents from the table.
Opening the cover, he froze.
“Director.”
“…Yes?”
“Here, this name.”
The director, who had been wiping tears from her cheeks, nodded.
“This was the name she used before being adopted, when she lived with us.”
We finally opened our eyes.
Determined to witness the beginning of Ae-jung’s life, she looked down at the first page of the document under the opened cover.
And froze.
“We couldn’t just make up a first name. At our orphanage, we usually gave pure Korean names.”
Listening to the director’s explanation, we saw a name very familiar to us.
Ae-jung’s first name was ours.
