Chapter 16: Abandoned world

Kim Dokja left the alleyway as soon as he hung up the call, as he looked in front of him and saw the slightly startled Yoo Sangah.

"I-I'm sorry... Dokja-ssi was late..."

It was difficult. No, rather than difficult... It was shameful.

"Did you hear everything?"

Yoo Sangah bowed her head in a deep apology.

Kim Dokja eventually sighed. "Would you like to take a walk?"

They walked along the platform of Yongsan Station. It was definitely a cold wind but the temperature changed when it touched Kim Dokja's cheeks. There wasn't time to wash his hair but a nice fragrance floated from Yoo Sangah's hair.

They were silent for a moment before Kim Dokja opened his mouth. "Do you think it is strange? Why are a mother and son talking like that?"

"That's not true."

She was lying. It was extremely strange.

"Do you want to know?"

Yoo Sangah's eyes shook for a moment. "...If you don't mind."

Kim Dokja smiled bitterly. Yes, now was the time to talk. He took a deep breath before saying with exaggerated tone. "My mother killed my father."

Strangely, his words sounded ridiculous. He spoke like it was someone else's story.

"She went to prison for her sin."

He continued speaking.

"My father... it is shameful to say this but he is someone meant to die. Domestic violence, gambling, guarantor... my mother and I lived in fear every day. There wasn't a single day without bruises. I was sometimes hit. Then one day, my mother made up her mind and it happened."

"Ah..."

"I thought it was quite well-known at the company. Yoo Sangah-ssi didn't know?"

There was no answer from Yoo Sangah. She realized with the benefit of hindsight that she had touched a wound she shouldn't have touched.

"Do you feel even stranger now? It is legally wrong but you don't understand why I hate my mother."

"No! I'm not Dokja-ssi so I don't fully understand..."

"Honestly, do you think I should forgive her?"

Yoo Sangah couldn't say anything. It couldn't be helped. The touched wound had already burst.

There was an awkward silence before he spoke again. "Do you know the book called the Underground Killer? It was previously on the Kyobo bestsellers list."

Talk about a book emerged all of a sudden. Yoo Sangah thought the previous topic was closed and replied awkwardly, "I think I've heard of it. Wasn't it an amazing bestseller?"

"It was an essay written by an abused woman in prison after she killed her husband. It was praised by critics at the time. They said that a Korean version of Notes from Underground had come out. Of course, it was completely overrated."

Yoo Sangah's face suddenly darkened. She had noticed. Kim Dokja hadn't changed the topic at all.

"That's right. My mother wrote it."

Yoo Sangah's lips dropped open.

"I still remember the time a bunch of reporters waited in front of my house. They kept asking me if the essay was real."

"..."

"I remember everything my classmates said. They told me that my mother made money by selling murder."

"Dokja-ssi..."

"My relatives also said this. My mother is a murderer. How dare she slip her face into the newspapers?"

Yoo Sangah wanted to say something but Kim Dokja kept going.

"It was a bit hard because of this. No, it was hard for a long time."

"..."

"I could bear to be the child of a murderer. However, it is different to be sold as a story. It is a different matter when my life was turned into money by someone."

Kim Dokja looked at the sky. It wasn't night but he was more certain than ever that the distant constellations were watching him. Perhaps this story was meant for them as well.

However, those constellations couldn't comfort him. Should he be glad? He didn't know.

"Do you still think that I should forgive my mother?"

He didn't want an answer. He didn't want her to understand in the first place. Maybe this was the ugliest form of violence he could do against Yoo Sangah, who grew up in a well-off family. It was an arbitrary display of unhappiness forced onto someone who would never understand.

The kind Yoo Sangah would grieve knowing that it was impossible for her to understand. Kim Dokja laughed at the unknown sense of victory. "I'm sorry. It was a joke."

"Huh?"

"It was a lie. Were you fooled? Do you think there is a novel like this? My mother and I are ordinary people and my father was in an accident when I was young..."

"Dokja-ssi..."

"Sangah-ssi, you should go home. It's late. I'm sorry but I can't walk you home anymore."

The expression on Kim Dokja's face, was a negative emotion which was neither anger or resentment. Not even sadness.