Chapter 10.1 – A Young Boy’s Dream

Seojun first met Moonkyeong shortly after he entered high school. At the time, he was filled with rebellion, having grown tired of the blatant disregard and torment from his family. 

The moment he struck Seouk, who was a year older than him, it had been a warning. A statement that he was far more unhinged than they thought, and that they should leave him alone. It was his minimal defense line.

Fortunately, after that day, the family stopped tormenting him. However, they didn’t bother hiding their displeasure whenever he was around, and Seojun also wished to live as invisibly as possible. 

Despite his sharp mind and excellent grades, nothing excited him. Even at school, he spent his time idly, letting the hours pass. On days when even that felt tiresome, he would ride a bus alone, get off at random stops, and listen to his favorite classical music. 

His only hobby was transcribing the music that caught his ear onto sheet music he found online. 

That day, too, he was standing in line to order at a café near Seongbuk-dong, with his earphones plugged in. 

“Oh? This seems to belong to a customer who just took their coffee to go.”

The café employee, who was about to take his order, exclaimed in surprise, holding up an unfamiliar phone. 

A middle-aged woman, who had been in front of him, had left her phone behind, and the employee looked troubled. 

Through the café window, the phone’s owner could be seen walking gracefully with just her coffee in hand. If someone ran after her, they could probably return it quickly. 

The problem was that she had just crossed the crosswalk. Even if the employee chased after her, it would take some time, especially with a line of customers waiting behind him. 

Seojun sighed briefly and extended his hand toward the employee. 

“Give it to me.”

Still wearing his earphones, he sprinted out the door. It didn’t take long for him to push open the café door and step outside, but unfortunately, he was caught by the traffic light. 

The middle-aged woman was reaching out to hail a taxi. 

“Excuse me!”

He raised his voice and shouted, but she didn’t seem to realize he was calling out to her. 

As soon as the light changed, Seojun used his athletic skills to cross the street in an instant. However, by the time he reached the other side, the taxi carrying the woman had already disappeared. 

Panting heavily, Seojun returned to the café, annoyed. He planned to give the phone back to the employee, assuming the owner would soon return to look for it. 

Just then, the phone rang. On the screen, the name “Our Daughter” appeared, accompanied by a red heart. 

Seeing it made Seojun feel nauseous. Everyone else seemed to live happily under the love of their parents, while his life felt like a constant storm. It irritated him. 

Still, he felt he should return the phone, so he answered the call in a curt voice. 

“Hello.”

– Mom! It’s me. Um, don’t get mad, just hear me out. Today, Yuhyun invited me to her birthday party. Just for today, can I skip ballet practice? I know, I know I’m not supposed to skip even a single day. But the girls keep begging me to come. I promise I’ll make up for it tomorrow by practicing twice as hard. Please, just for today, can I skip?

The voice of a young girl, urgent yet pleading, made Seojun chuckle. 

She must have been in such a hurry that she didn’t even check who answered before launching into her request. 

Calming his voice, he replied briefly, 

“This is the Nine to Six Café in Seongbuk-dong. You left your phone here.”

– What?

“You left your phone. I’ll leave it with the staff, so come pick it up.”

– Oh! Thank you. I know where that is. I’ll come right away. Thank you so much.

Seojun thought nothing of it—just an ordinary mother and daughter. But his assumption was proven wrong within five minutes. 

As soon as the café door opened, the woman’s phone, still in Seojun’s hand, received a strange encrypted media file. 

Thanks to the coding classes and related studies he had taken with Seouk since childhood, deciphering it wasn’t difficult for him. Despite the complex structure of the encryption, he understood it instantly and almost reflexively played the file. 

The recording contained the exact conversation the woman’s daughter had just had. 

Standing there, Seojun quickly identified the eavesdropping program within five minutes. It was identical to the one Shin Jueun had used to control and monitor him, which sent a chill down his spine. 

He hid the phone in his pocket, returned to the café, and pulled out his laptop from his bag. 

It was a mix of curiosity and instinct. Without realizing it, he copied the program and installed it on his own phone. 

While working on it, he lost track of time. The phone rang again, interrupting his concentration. 

This time, the caller was the woman’s daughter. Seojun answered. 

“Yes.”

– Um, excuse me. Is this the Nine to Six Café? I just arrived, but the staff said someone else took the phone.

Seojun lifted his head and immediately saw a young girl in a middle school uniform looking around. 

She had pale white skin, long straight hair, and slender arms and legs. Her round eyes blinked, giving her an innocent charm that captivated him instantly. 

Holding the phone to his ear, Seojun continued speaking. 

“I’m here.”

– What?

“To your right.”

The girl turned her head, and their eyes met. 

Blushing slightly, she quickly ran toward him. The brief moment felt intensely warm to Seojun. 

“Thank you. My mom rarely loses things, but she must have been in a hurry today.”

Without a word, Seojun handed her the phone. After bowing repeatedly to express her gratitude, the girl left. 

Even after she disappeared, Seojun kept listening to her voice through the copied eavesdropping program. 

Her father, her friends, even the boy she liked—every call and text was copied without her knowledge. Her cheerful voice betrayed no suspicion. 

From that moment, Moonkyeong began to seep into Seojun’s monotonous life. 

He listened to her voice while eating or whenever he was alone. 

Through this, he learned something surprising. Seo Moonkyeong hadn’t been raised in a loving, ordinary family. She was adopted. 

Her seemingly kind mother was colder and harsher than anyone. 

– Mom, I think I have indigestion. Can you come pick me up? My stomach really hurts

– Call me after practice. I’ll take you to the hospital after you’re done.

– ……Mom.

– Seo Moonkyeong, what do you think you can accomplish with such weakness? Haven’t I told you countless times? To reach the top, you must endure pain. You must work twice, no—several times harder than others to achieve it.

– You don’t even know how much I’m hurting right now, Mom. Can’t you, just once, come without asking anything? I’m telling you I’m in pain. I’m so, so hurt.

– Call me when it’s over. I’m hanging up now.

That was the end of the phone call overheard one day. Without a word, it was easy to imagine the expression Moonkyeong would be wearing next.

Seojun’s perception of her, as just a cheerful girl, crumbled miserably. He replayed the part of her voice, quietly murmuring how much pain she was in, over and over again.

In the dusty, old drawer where long-held secrets were buried, he read her endless sorrow.

The girl was lonely, yearning for love, and in pain.

He had thought of her as someone who boldly forged her life against an unhappy reality. But that wasn’t it. Seo Moonkyeong was dying a little more every day.

Her friends often mocked her out of jealousy, and the boy she liked sent her a cruel message a few months later:

<Your mom gave me money to stay away from you. It feels disgusting. Just give me your account number—I’ll return the money. Don’t ever think of talking to me again. I thought I’d hang out with you for a while because you’re pretty, but do you think I’m some beggar?>

Even as she was broken and chipped away, Moonkyeong shone on her own. She began to stand out as a ballerina, her skills becoming so exceptional that people started to talk about her.

But just before Seojun was sent to Russia, he discovered that Moonkyeong absolutely despised ballet.

The reason she spent long, solitary hours locked in the practice room, walking that path silently, was because she was foolishly a good daughter who couldn’t help but love even a mother like that.

“Idiot.”

On his way to the airport, Seojun yanked his earphones out with a sharp curse.

It was through the utterly foolish Seo Moonkyeong that he realized why he was drawn to her in the first place.

Through her, he saw a reflection of himself that was no different.

Never having been loved by anyone, not even knowing what it felt like, yet shamelessly struggling to be loved—that sight of her annoyed him because it was so much like himself.

He began to hate her endlessly. He loathed her. He vowed that he wouldn’t care how she lived from now on. Before leaving Korea, he deleted the copied eavesdropping program from his phone.

He thought of Korea as a place he never wanted to return to. He swore he’d never think of Seo Moonkyeong again.

With a face as cold as ice, he left the airport.