ATTEW – Chapter 13

“I want to hire an assistant teacher, but there’s no one suitable. If it’s okay with you… could you help me for just one year, Eunho?”

“Me…?”

“No matter how I think about it, I don’t know anyone as smart as you, or someone who could look after the children as well as you can. Room and board will stay the same as now, and your pay…”

“…A little above minimum wage.”

“Director…”

“And on weekends, I’d like you to get another part-time job. So you can build social skills and learn what the world is like.”

It was so obvious Seonghui was stretching herself to accommodate her that Eunho teared up and hugged her tight. She could keep living at Warm Hands Childcare Center just as she had been—caring for the kids who followed her everywhere—and on top of that, she would be paid. There was no way Eunho could not be grateful.

And Seonghui had another adult to take care of besides Eunho. Seong Eunsil—Eunho’s age, and a friend who’d arrived at the center much later—was that person.

Because she had an intellectual disability, it was difficult for her to live independently even as an adult. Seonghui had told Eunho before that she planned to keep Eunsil with her and continue to look after her.

“Just one year. After one year, you must take the CSAT and attend college. Promise me, okay?”

“Yes. I will.”

From that day on, Eunho stopped calling Seonghui “Teacher” and changed it to “Director.” That was the only thing that changed between them. Seonghui was still gentle with Eunho, and because Eunho was “only” an assistant teacher, Seonghui would sometimes pull her away from the kids, telling her not to take on too much work.

That was also when she got a room of her own. Seonghui cleared out a storage space and made it livable for Eunho to share with Seong Eunsil.

Thanks to Seonghui’s care, Eunho was able to stay at the center even as an adult, steadily save money, and prepare for independence with a full year’s buffer.

And then…

“……”

A month ago, Seonghui passed away.

Just like she’d said—after eating ice cream with the kids, playing yutnori, secretly sharing the hot dogs Eunho brought, smiling and enjoying herself—on the night the first snow fell in soft white flurries, she lay down in her bed as usual and never woke up.

That day, Eunho cried hard. For the first time since the day she came to Warm Hands Childcare Center, she cried hard—so hard she was sick for days afterward, heaving out sobs until her whole body ached. It felt like she’d lost the umbrella that had always shielded her from the cold rain of her world.

“Hah…”

Just thinking about it made her eyes burn again. She missed that gentle hand that used to stroke her, that pretty voice that used to call her, so much it hurt.

Seonghui’s face rose in her mind, and Eunho’s mopping slowed. The music in her earphones suddenly felt like it was making everything worse, so she reached up to yank them out—

“Hey, you fucking bitch—answer me! Don’t get all high and mighty when you’re just a convenience store part-timer!”

The voice of the human trash she’d forgotten about scraped at her eardrums.

With a sigh, Eunho turned toward him.

“Fuck, seriously. You’re so damn pretty it’s a crime. Looking at your face, I’m not even mad anymore. Pretty girl—stop playing hard to get, huh? You’re hurting oppa’s feelings.”

It was the guy who’d been showing up at the convenience store every time Eunho worked, for days now—swaggering in, smirking like he owned the place. Somehow, he’d figured out they were the same age, and he’d started pushing “Let’s be friends.” When she refused, he’d tried, “Then let’s date,” as if that would work.

She’d ignored him because she couldn’t see the point of wasting words. Today, he’d brought a friend and started acting even more blatantly. Two hours ago, he’d asked her to drink with him after her shift; when she turned him down, he’d stormed off red-faced.

And now he was back—like this, for the last hour.

Worse, he’d clearly been drinking since midday. Even from this far away, the stink of alcohol rolling off him was nauseating.

Eunho leaned on the mop handle with one hand and blew out an annoyed breath.

“Is ‘fuck’ the only curse word you know?”

“What…?”

Startled when Eunho finally responded, the man blinked his bleary eyes.

“Your face looks bad—so I guess your ears are bad too.”

“…….”

“Even your mom lying in her coffin would roll over if she saw you acting like this.”

“……Fuck, my mom isn’t dead.”

“Then she has to watch this bullshit alive?”

“…….”

“Filial in every possible way.”

“…….”

“I’ve rejected you enough times for a toddler to understand, but you’re still here, so you must be stupid too.”

“…….”

“You’re ugly, you’re dumb, your personality’s a dumpster fire, and on top of that—you’re pathetic.”

“…….”

“Hey. At least diversify your swearing. Don’t make it so obvious that the only thing you know is ‘fuck.’”

After that, Eunho’s gaze flicked to the clock on the wall. Ten minutes to five. The next shift worker will be here soon.

“Y-you… fuck…!”

“There it is again.”

“…….”

“What are you, a fuck-bot?”

Because the creep was camping out, she couldn’t even take the mop outside to rinse it. But she couldn’t hide it in the back either—if he followed her inside, who knew what he’d try. So Eunho carried the mop behind the register.

If it came down to it, she’d swing the handle.

“Hah. This bitch is nuts. But honestly… you’re even hotter when you talk back—”

“Hey. Enough.”

“…….”

“Would you rather leave after being rejected by a woman… or after getting your ass kicked by one?”

“…….”

“Let me correct that. I’m not going to hit you.”

“…….”

“Because I don’t hit. I rip balls off.”

“Wh-what?”

“I’ll make you a eunuch.”

She lifted her hand, mimed grabbing something, twisting and tearing it away.

The man’s flushed face drained white. His friend had already disappeared—gone, without a trace. Apparently, the “friend” was the less embarrassing one between the two.

“…….”

“Why are you just standing there? Get out.”

“……F-fuck!”

Still chanting nothing but “fuck,” the “fuck-bot” stumbled out of the convenience store.

Watching that pathetic retreat, Eunho snorted and started counting the register.

Rough when she needed to be, gentle when it mattered.

The toughness she inherited from Hwajin, and the kindness she learned from Seonghui—both living in the same person.

That was Lee Eunho, at twenty.

***

“Yeah. Unni’s on my way home. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

After hanging up, Eunho looked down at what she was holding. A bundled box with packaged hot dogs inside. A pleased smile tugged at her lips.

Once a month—on payday from her part-time job—Eunho threw a small party for the kids at the center. “Small,” but with that many kids, it still costs a decent amount. For someone as frugal as Eunho, it wasn’t nothing—yet the satisfaction outweighed the expense.

She planned to get back to the center, cut them into bite-sized pieces, and share them with everyone.

Even if it wasn’t a lot, enough for everyone to have a taste. Enough for them to enjoy the moment together.

Thinking of what she’d learned from Seonghui, Eunho quickened her steps. The snowflakes were getting thicker, and it didn’t look good.

No matter how she looked at it, winter was a nightmare season for Eunho.

She was born and abandoned in winter. Hwajin died in winter. Seonghui died in winter.

And since living at the center, she’d gained even more reasons to hate it.

She’d learned that around this time of year, there were always more abandoned children. While everyone else was floating on end-of-year excitement, people who felt isolated and crushed would throw their own lives away—or throw their children away.

Either way, it was an act that made a child an orphan.

So this season was always frantic at the center. And at some point, Eunho found herself naturally assigned to the younger girls—preschoolers and early elementary kids.

It was simple: those kids liked Eunho the most. They clung to her the best.

The reason was ridiculous.

To them, Eunho looked like a princess.

“I look like a princess?”

“Yeah!”

Meeting those sparkling eyes—eyes that looked at her like she’d stepped out of a fairy tale—Eunho couldn’t bring herself to tell them the truth.

Kids like that didn’t need ugliness. They needed pretty things, good things—more than anyone.

There was no way she could ever say,

‘Actually, Unni shaved her head until she was nine. And if someone looked at me the wrong way—one person or two—I’d rush them and bite their nose, yank their hair, twist their ears, claw their cheeks.’

She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.