ATTEW – Chapter 10

“Aw, take some of this with you, too. You work so hard for the country and all, right? Service, service.”

“We don’t accept things like this.”

“Oh, why not? Why won’t you take it? It’s just a few buns. Our shop never does anything bad, so eat this, and please don’t come back again, okay? Yeah?”

THUD. THUD.

Something heavy dropped onto the jumper covering Eunho—night manju, the same kind she’d stolen and eaten that morning.

“Really, it’s fine…….”

“No, why is it fine! What’s fine about it! You’ve probably eaten nothing all day except a few fist-sized bits of bread. Take it. Yeah?”

“Ma’am…….”

“And thiiis! A bowl of gukbap is okay, isn’t it? Yeah?”

“She must’ve cried herself dry over her mom’s death. Needs a full belly at least. Send her to a good place. Not one that beats or starves kids. Okay?”

Myeongok’s small whisper slipped through the open car door. Eunho realized Myeongok was begging the police to take care of her.

Her eyes stung for a moment. But she didn’t cry.

Inside the jumper that smelled like a stranger, Eunho lay as flat as she could and held her breath. In her head, she did nothing but draw Myeongok—[Night Pass Super]’s ajumma—over and over, as if carving her face into memory.

A moment later, the car rocked. The two police officers had climbed into the front seats.

“I’ve received the child. We’re heading back.”

As soon as the officer’s voice on the radio ended—vroom, the engine turned over. With crackling static—chiik, chiik—the car pulled away.

For some reason, something bitter surged up in Eunho’s chest. Instead of crying, she sniffled and chewed hard on her lips. Only after a long while did she sit up, moving with the officer’s hand as he lifted the jumper off her.

The street lit in red was shrinking behind them. The red-light district Eunho had run through day and night—the filthy pit smeared with curses and violence, confinement, rape, prostitution—was growing small in the distance.

From far away, it looked pretty, glittering like Christmas-tree lights.

Eunho stared at that view for a long time, then parted her small lips and mouthed a soundless farewell.

Goodbye, Bamgogae.

Goodbye, Mom.

***

Maybe Myeongok’s plea worked. The police sat Eunho on a sofa in a corner of the station and didn’t touch her. They didn’t just not touch her—they didn’t even look at her.

The bread Myeongok had tossed into the car went into Eunho’s bag. There was no reason to eat bread when there was a bowl of gukbap, milky broth steaming hot, right in front of her. Saving it for later—saving it for the day there was nothing—Eunho stuffed the bread carefully into her bag and then wolfed down the entire bowl of gukbap.

“Damn, you already finished? You’re tiny, but you can eat.”

“But Officer Park… shouldn’t we… wash her?”

“Officer Choi, you gonna wash her?”

“……No. I, uh… you know. My sister’s at my place with my niece.”

“Mm…….”

“What if she passes on germs? My niece isn’t even a hundred days old yet.”

“Then leave her. Whoever takes her can wash her.”

The way the cops looked at her—like she really was a rat—made Eunho feel relieved instead.

Arguing with drunks, running out on calls, and patrolling. Busy cops didn’t have room to care about her. Even while nodding off, Eunho never let go of the bag and pillow in her arms.

How much time passed like that?

When she felt someone tugging at her, Eunho jolted awake. A middle-aged officer was looking down at her.

“Heh. Look at this little punk. What did I do to deserve that glare?”

“…….”

“Put the bag down and lie down properly if you’re going to sleep.”

“…….”

“What. You’re not gonna sleep?”

“…….”

“Officer Choi. Can’t she talk?”

“She asked for water earlier when she was eating.”

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

The middle-aged officer clicked his tongue, chuckled, and walked off. Eunho tightened her hold on the bag and pillow, eyes sharpened with wary tension. She stayed awake through the night like that, and then morning came.

In a corner of the station where no one spoke to her—and no one she could speak to—Eunho dozed, curled up on the sofa, until a soft voice tickled her ears. It was nearly lunchtime.

“Then that’s what I’ll do. For today, I’ll take the child with me first. Last night must have been a huge shock…… She must be exhausted.”

The person talking with the police, glancing toward Eunho, was a woman with neatly combed hair—silver threads scattered through it in a way that somehow looked beautiful. She seemed a little older than Myeongok, and she spoke in a tone Eunho had never heard in her life.

So gentle. So soft.

‘Her way of speaking… it’s like Mom’s chest,’ Eunho thought.

A long time ago—back when Eunho lived by the U.S. base and was just starting to write crooked letters—Hwajin would sometimes let Eunho touch her breasts.

Of course, only after Eunho soaked her hands in warm water for a long time and washed them clean, and clipped her nails down short.

[“Go to sleep and I’ll let you touch them.”]

[“Mm-hm.”]

[“……You like touching my boobs that much?”]

[“Mm-hm.”]

[“You’re the first girl who’s ever been that crazy about my boobs.”]

[“Mm-hm?”]

[“Did your dad use to be crazy about boobs too? Who the hell was he, anyway?”]

[“Mm-hm?”]

[“Well, I’ve never seen a cock-having bastard who says he doesn’t like boobs.”]

Hwajin would laugh as she said it. Looking up at her, Eunho would gently knead and pat her breasts until her vision blurred with drowsiness. The warmth spreading into her palms felt good. Soft and fluffy, and even squishy—so much so that touching them made her grin, hee-hee, without meaning to.

And on nights like that, Hwajin became a little kinder than usual. She’d smooth Eunho’s hair back, or poke her cheek with a fingertip.

[“Don’t live like me.”]

[“Mm-hm?”]

[“Not ‘mm-hm.’ Say ‘Yes.’”]

[“Yeees.”]

[“They say daughters inherit their mothers’ fate—that’s all bullshit. Got it?”]

[“Mm-hm?”]

[“All fucking bullshit. So you don’t live like me. Don’t inherit my fate.”]

[“Hee…….”]

[“Live loved. Live being fiercely loved by just one man. Say ‘Yes.’”]

[“Yeees.”]

[“No. Don’t even bother meeting men. Just live however you want. Since you were born and you’re living anyway, at least you should live having some fun. You get it?”]

[“Mm-hm?”]

[“……I’m saying live well. Unlike your mom.”]

In Eun-ho’s memory, Hwajin was unusually generous that day. The voice and tone evoked the sentiment from kneading that drowsy-soft chest.

Eunho was quick enough to read the air. She understood she had to go with this woman.

No matter how soft a voice was, Eunho couldn’t lower her guard. She watched the middle-aged woman talking with the officers with a blade-sharp gaze, and when the conversation ended, the woman approached Eunho.

“Hi. My name is Han Seonghui. Oh my goodness… you’re so handsome.”

“…….”

“Can you tell me your name?”

“……Lee Eunho.”

“Eunho. Does that mean a silver tiger? What a wonderful name.”

Eunho didn’t know whether her name meant that or not. No one had ever “explained” her name like that before, so Eunho’s brows drew together.

“I heard you’ve been sitting here since last night. Is that true?”

Eunho nodded slowly. She still had the bag and pillow locked tight in her arms.

“You must be tired.”

“…….”

“Are you hungry?”

She’d eaten last night, and then starved ever since. But it wasn’t food she needed—it was the bathroom.

“Bathroom…….”

“Oh, okay. You need the bathroom. I know where it is. I’ll take you.”

“…….”

“Are you going to carry all that? Do you want me to hold it for you for a moment?”

Eunho shook her head hard. Seonghui didn’t press. She only helped Eunho adjust her grip so the pillow she clutched wouldn’t get wet.

Seonghui took Eunho to the men’s bathroom, told her to call if she needed help, and waited outside. When Eunho came out, Seonghui looked briefly troubled—then slipped an arm around Eunho’s shoulders and brought her back into the station.

An officer who’d been waiting asked a few questions, saying they were “just procedural.” But there wasn’t much Eunho could answer. Her mother’s name and age, and her own age—things like that.

This was the station investigating Hwajin’s death, so they seemed to already know the broad strokes. Eunho watched as they wrote it down: the deceased, Lee Hwajin, had given birth alone and raised the child without registering the birth.

And a little later, at last, Eunho was able to leave the police station.