She was no different from a beast

Chapter 25

—–CROW—– 

“…Mom was a really scary woman.”

Obsessive, almost manic, teenage love, openly displayed to her family, chasing after him to his military base and clinging to his pants, sobbing, even after he’d rejected her and run away to the army.

It’s hard to tell whether Mom was the problem or if Dad was unexpectedly some kind of alpha male with an unknown charm.

“Oh, right. You’ll hear good news soon, daughter.”

“???”

“Mom threw away the condoms yesterday.”

“What does that… Oh.”

I was about to ask what he meant when I remembered asking Mom for a sibling.

They’re finally making one!

They’ve been enjoying safe, rubber-clad love, and now they’re finally starting the factory!

“I’d like a younger sister who looks like Mom.”

“What about a younger brother who looks like Dad?”

“Ew. If he talks back to his noona, I’ll teach him a lesson! Ahem!”

“You’re really ruthless.”

Younger brothers, burdened with the sin of being born later, are meant to toughen up, gain some sense, and grow up while getting beaten.

If you don’t like it, you should have been born earlier than this noona!

“Anyway, should we head back in? I think Mom’s calmed down now.”

“Hmm. Should we? Oh, right. Daughter, are you sure there’s nothing you want for your birthday?”

“A sibling.”

“Even if everything goes well, you won’t see a sibling until next year.”

That’s true~

Besides, while Mom is pregnant, Dad and I have to take care of her and help her, so she doesn’t overexert herself…

“Is there really nothing else you want?”

It might sound strange coming from an 8-year-old, but I really didn’t want anything at the moment.

Well, maybe some stock tips for a few years down the line, but I’m not so addicted to games that I need to play Thunder Attack at home. These days, I’m more often playing with Jeongwoo and Yuri in Dodong.

“And besides, I think Mom and Dad should be celebrated on my birthday.”

“Huh? Why? It’s Yuna’s day.”

In a way, he’s right. It’s a day to celebrate another year of life without any problems, but…isn’t it also a day for the parents, celebrating their daughter, whom they painfully gave birth to, being healthy and alive this year?

Dad tilted his head, puzzled by my words, as we got up from the stone wall and walked home.

I smiled at him and explained my thoughts.

“It’s a day to celebrate this pretty daughter being healthy and by your side for a year. Of course, Mom and Dad, who worked hard to raise and care for me, should be celebrated!”

“Oh…”

Dad seemed surprised by my answer. He gave a wry smile, a mixture of pride and some other complex emotion, and stroked my hair.

His large, dependable hand, a little rough, rested on my head, stroking it warmly and gently.

Normally, it would be a comforting and pleasant touch, but how should I put it?

It was a touch tinged with an unknown bitterness.

“Sometimes…I feel like our daughter is more mature than Mom and Dad.”

“Huh? Me?”

“Yes. You’re very thoughtful. When Mom and Dad were your age, we were always crying and begging for this and that…and complaining about wanting meat instead of vegetables.”

Well, it’s natural for 8-year-olds to be picky eaters, prefer meat over vegetables, and crave sweet and greasy food over complex, slightly earthy, or bitter flavors, isn’t it?

As for me, I enjoy Mom’s cooking and I’m not a picky eater, so I eat everything.

Besides, kids my age tend to prioritize their own feelings over being considerate of others.

But I also…well, even if I’m minimally considerate, I definitely express when I’m happy or unhappy.

I don’t really get it~

“Isn’t it good to be mature?”

Yeah, isn’t it good to be mature? It means my parents worry less about me and trust me.

“Well, it is good, but personally, I’d rather our daughter stay young a little longer than grow up too fast.”

“???”

“If you become an adult too quickly, you’ll leave us before we can do anything for you.  Your mom might not show it, but she really wants to make lots of memories with you.”

“…Hmm.”

Really?

Now that he mentions it…Mom does have that same slightly strange smile whenever we go out, even if she doesn’t say anything.

Memories. Memories…

I can understand it intellectually, but it doesn’t quite resonate with me emotionally.

In my past life, I was very distant from my family…and I enjoyed being outside the most, so Dad’s words felt a bit difficult to grasp.

Maybe that’s why I couldn’t easily answer and stayed silent.  Dad burst out laughing.

“It’s hard to understand what Dad’s saying because you’re still young, right? Well…you’ll understand when you grow up.”

“…Yeah.”

As a daughter who wants to repay Mom and Dad for their love and happiness, I felt a little disappointed that I couldn’t understand Dad’s words… I nodded with a slightly strange smile of my own.

Regret. Frustration. Love.  Expectation.

A mix of strange, suffocating, and exciting emotions tickled my chest.

Understanding Dad’s wish would come later, in the future, after more time had passed.

A few days later…early in the morning, while Mom and Dad were still asleep.

A young girl stood on a chair, stirring a pot on the stove with a ladle, the contents bubbling away.

A greasy frying pan and spatula lay scattered on the sink.

I’d lived on my own in my past life, so I could make simple seaweed soup, but if it’s too simple, it wouldn’t be fit for a special occasion like this, right?

*Slurp*

“Hmm~ It’s missing something~ Ah, let’s add a little anchovy sauce!”

I took a spoonful, tasted it, and added two more spoonfuls of anchovy sauce to the slightly bland soup, then stirred it with the ladle in my small hand.

Seaweed soup simmering with oysters I secretly harvested last night and cleaned with the help of the grandpas.

Soak the seaweed in water, sauté it with oysters in sesame oil in a frying pan, then pour everything, including the oil, into a pot, add water, and boil until done.  But…

I added soy sauce, anchovy sauce, and a touch of MSG, adding flavor bit by bit.

Seaweed soup becomes delicious with these little touches and long simmering.

Yeah. Now, just lower the heat and do the dishes.

And I need to set the table before Mom and Dad wake up.

I turned the heat down low, tilted the lid of the pot, and went to the sink.  I picked up a small sponge, lathered it with soap, and scrubbed the frying pan and spatula.

If there’s any grease left, Mom will have to do the dishes again, so I have to make them squeaky clean!

After finishing the dishes, I took out some ripe kimchi and kkakdugi from the refrigerator, took the mackerel out of the microwave, put it on a plate, and carefully separated the flesh from the bones with chopsticks.

It’s nice to eat fish with the bones, but…it’s better to remove all the bones and just have the meat for easy eating.

I placed the kkakdugi, kimchi, and deboned fish on the table, then ran back to the pot for another taste… Yep! Perfect!

Slightly salty…like concentrated seawater, perfectly seasoned?

But the sesame oil adds a strangely rich and nutty flavor. If I’m not careful, I might end up eating the whole pot while tasting.

Now, I took out three bowls and filled them evenly with seaweed and oysters… Oh, right. Dad needs extra strength every night, so I’ll give him more oysters!

And I scooped rice from the rice cooker and put it on the table.

Finally, I took spoons and chopsticks from the utensil holder and placed them at Mom’s, Dad’s, and my spot, along with water glasses… Done!!

It might be a simple breakfast…but aren’t all breakfasts like this?

It’s much better to have something simple and warm, filled with someone’s care, than to eat greasy food like meat or fried food first thing in the morning and feel bloated~

“Hmm…what’s that smell? Oh my? Yuna?”

“Wow~ What smells so good? Ooh, I’m drooling.”

“Ah! Mom! Dad!”

I looked at the clock. 6:30 a.m.

Mom and Dad wake up early too.

I was a little tired from waking up at 4 a.m. and preparing everything, but seeing them surprised and touched by the breakfast I made, the fatigue weighing me down seemed to melt away.

“D-did our daughter prepare all of this? But it’s Yuna’s birthday, why…”

“Wow, just smell this. The man who marries Yuna will be blessed.”

“Ugh.”

Marrying a man…that’s a bit…

I’ve adapted to living as a girl, but dating a man, holding hands, kissing, and then eventually holding and putting other things in…and doing the deed is a bit much.

I’d rather…stay single forever or get with a woman than marry a man!

“Marriage or whatever, just come and sit down! The food will get cold!”

“Okay, okay. Honey, Yuna made us breakfast, so let’s sit down without crying.”

“Yes… Honey, thank you. Daughter, I’ll enjoy it.”

It’s a humble birthday breakfast, but it’s a meal made with someone’s care and warmth.

If I can sit face to face with my loved ones, laughing and chatting…isn’t that enough for a birthday?

I still don’t understand what Dad meant a few days ago, or the meaning of the smiles Mom and Dad showed…but I think this is a happy family memory.

—–CROW—– 

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