ATTEW – Chapter 20

—”Then you can’t. If there’s a legal guardian with the ability to provide support on paper, why are you the head of household? You’re not. It doesn’t qualify for exemption. It doesn’t qualify for deferment either.”

“But my father and I are estranged. We left that house right before my sister was born—almost ten years ago. He’s someone who has no intention of supporting my sister or me—”

—”Your name was Jae-eon?”

“Yes, sunbaenim.”

—”I heard you were smart. Are you really ignorant, or do you just want to be?”

“……”

—”Jae-eon. The law doesn’t look at stories. It looks at facts.”

“……Yes.”

—”Evidence, documents, those kinds of facts.”

Jae-eon’s feet stopped.

He’d known it, but he’d sought a professional anyway—clinging to the hope of grabbing even a single straw. Hearing it out loud, that there really was no way, made the strength drain from his legs.

He collapsed onto the stairs with a heavy thud and dragged in uneven breaths. His T-shirt was soaked through, the back plastered to his skin. Only then did the cold finally catch up to him—belated and vicious.

He’d been running around in subzero weather until he’d broken a sweat.

“Ha……”

He was in the middle of going from place to place—trying relatives in Seoul and Incheon, anyone who’d ever picked up his call even once. Most of them were on his father’s side.

He asked shamelessly if they could take care of Gyueon while he was in the army. He bowed and even got on his knees, saying he’d send living expenses by pulling the deposit from their place—please, he was begging them.

But everyone shook their heads.

More times than he could count, he heard, “Why are you doing this when your father is rich and alive?”

And those were the kinder words.

“Exactly! This is why you need to bring a woman into the house properly! Family fights should stay in the family! She had it too good and still shat in the chamber pot—ran off with another family’s precious bloodline, and now look at him…”

“Honey. Jae-eon can hear you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Not something you say about the dead.”

“……”

“Jae-eon, was it? Look. Even if your mother was that coldhearted, blood ties don’t just snap. Of course. How could they?”

“……”

“Your father isn’t as cruel as you think. Go to him, bow your head, apologize for coming so late, and beg. And anyway, your new stepmother had two daughters in a row—he’s probably feeling disappointed.”

“……”

“Now a son shows up—grown up this well? How happy he’ll be. It’ll be good for you too. Good for everyone.”

He was stunned by the audacity of it.

His father was the one who must have spread the rumor that his mother was some wicked woman who ran off with the kids. Maybe he’d even anticipated that one day misfortune would come crashing down on Jae-eon, and prepared for it in advance—like a spider spinning its web: laying out despair and hopelessness in every direction.

Jae-eon also looked into what would happen if he simply refused to report on his enlistment date. Legal punishment, they said. He even considered taking the hit first, then explaining the reason after, and hoping for leniency.

But even that, the lawyer Sunbae said, would be difficult.

Because there was only one core reason.

Gyueon’s legal guardian—her biological father—was alive and “fine” on paper.

If the father refused to provide support, Jae-eon could report him for failing his responsibilities. But that would take time. And Jae-eon didn’t have time—his enlistment was practically on his doorstep. Sunday night. Monday enlistment. A clock that didn’t care.

—”Jae-eon, you said you graduated a semester early. So you can’t even use academic circumstances. And you’ve already delayed enlistment for family reasons before, right? There’s no clean option. I’ll give you realistic advice.”

“Yes, sunbae.”

—”No matter what your relationship with your father is like, you need to swallow your pride and go to him. There’s nothing you can do right now except ask him. There isn’t time, and it’s already Saturday—what else can you do?”

“……”

—”If there’s even a sliver of hope, you take it. Go with your sister and beg. He’s still her father. Surely he won’t pretend you don’t exist.”

“……Yes. Thank you.”

—”I’m saying this because I don’t think you really understand. You have no power. And it sounds like you don’t have any adults around you to strategize with.”

“Yes. That’s why I have to take responsibility for my sister.”

—”I get it. But the world doesn’t move the way you want it to. You feel like you have to shoulder everything and fix it alone, but you’re barely in your twenties. Looking back, at that age, there’s almost nothing you can do without adult help. So—”

Jae-eon couldn’t hear the rest.

The advice—those practical warnings—didn’t reach him. The sunbae was trying to get him to set the burden down, so he wouldn’t blame himself later. But it was easy to say. It didn’t land on someone who needed a solution now.

In the end, all he’d gotten was confirmation: there was only one path left.

Jae-eon let the phone drop into his lap and grabbed his head in both hands.

“Ha……”

No matter how many times he turned it over, there was no answer. There was nowhere to ask for help.

Right now, he only wanted one thing—

He wanted his mother.

***

“Oppa, my legs hurt.”

I’m cold. My legs hurt. I’m hungry. Where are we going? I wanna go home. When’s Mom coming?

His sister’s endless complaints no longer sounded cute at all.

From Friday night—when their mother died—until now, Saturday evening, Jae-eon hadn’t gotten even one uninterrupted minute to breathe. He hadn’t leaned his back against anything, hadn’t even sat down with peace of mind. The exhaustion that had sunk into his bones kept flaring into sudden, ugly irritation—something he had to crush down again and again.

He bent his knees and crouched in front of her, forcing his voice steady.

“Nooo. not carrying me. Stop walking and let’s go home. I’m really cold.”

“…Oppa will carry Gyueon and walk as fast as he can.”

What kind of snow even was this? Even the snow felt like it was grabbing at his ankles.

He’d run all day and gained nothing. In the end, he’d held Gyu-eon’s hand and come to the mansion where his father lived—only to find a cold, locked iron gate that didn’t open.

“I’m Seo Jae-eon. I have something to ask. Please.”

He’d spoken politely to someone who looked like a hired staff member.

What came back was—

“He says there’s nothing to ask, and to leave.”

Not “No one’s home.” Not “You must have the wrong address.” Not even a thin excuse. Just rejection, clean and cruel.

But he had no choice. Jae-eon clenched his teeth and pressed the intercom again.

“Please tell Seo Jung-pil that his legal spouse has passed away.”

That man—who once had been so consumed with suspicion that he’d locked up and restrained his wife—surely, Jae-eon thought, he would be shaken. Surely he’d feel something, regret something.

But that was only Jae-eon’s hope.

“He says he understands.”

“……That’s it?”

“Yes. And—stop ringing the bell. Coming to someone’s house late at night, what do you think you’re doing?”

With that sharp rebuke, even the short conversation ended.

If anything, Jae-eon had done nothing but hand his father a moment of satisfaction.

‘I’ll sue you one day. I’ll make you pay legally.’

No—he’s rich, he has connections. Even if I sue, he’ll slip right through the cracks.

And even if he did take Gyueon in, it was obvious what would happen. It wouldn’t be good for her.

So what now? What can I even do?

Thought after thought tangled into a knot—until Gyueon’s whining snapped the chain.

“Oppa! I’m cold!”

She didn’t even know where she was. She’d been making a snowman in front of that gate.

Jae-eon took her hand, then carried her, and got on the subway. After getting off at the station, he’d been walking for an hour.

And if he was forced to call it “luck,” then fine—there was at least a destination.

Earlier that day, he’d gone to a police station “just in case,” and asked about a place that could temporarily take a child.

The coworker at the restaurant where his mother had worked had finally shaken her head too—she couldn’t keep accommodating him.

The reality was unbelievable: he had nowhere to leave his sister for even a single night.

So he’d looked.

He remembered thinking the name was unusual. He remembered praying that good people would be there to watch over Gyueon. With only two days left before he had to report, he’d made the decision: he’d leave her there for now.

In those two days, he had to chase down every last thread—his mother’s friends, distant relatives, even the parents of school friends back in their hometown. Dragging a nine-year-old through that was impossible.

That was why he was walking through this blizzard now.

There were no cars on the road at all. Even a small child became heavy when you carried her through the snow. But Jae-eon didn’t put Gyueon down.

If he let go of even that, he felt like his own incompetence would suffocate him.