The Runaway and the Mediator

[Attention, residents. If you have seen or are currently protecting five-year-old Uju, wearing a pink kindergarten uniform, please contact the management office immediately.]

Ding-dong-ding-dong. A loud chime preceded the clear, booming voice of an elderly person. “We will announce again,” the voice repeated, reiterating the earlier message.

Just then, the sleeping child stirred, then slowly sat up. His cheeks, still soft from sleep, were plump.

“Huh?”

Uju tilted his head, a puzzled expression on his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“This isn’t a kindergarten uniform…”

The child remained utterly oblivious to the fact that he was being mistaken for a lost boy. A profound sigh of relief escaped me. I sank into a nearby chair, lowering myself to meet Uju’s eye level.

First things first: he was found, and that was a blessing. Amidst the flurry of questions swirling in my mind, I managed to pluck out the most pertinent one to unravel the situation.

“How did you get in here all by yourself?”

Uju, who had been blinking in innocent confusion, finally began to speak.

Uju explained that his intended hiding spot was the stairwell of a commercial building located within the apartment complex. He mentioned that the twins’ mother taught piano at the music academy there, a place he occasionally visited. While it was perplexing why he’d chosen a hideout so far from the playground, the fact that it was a familiar place for the children offered some understanding.

The staff member who had been following him had initially tried to talk him out of it. However, when Uju stubbornly insisted, they seemingly relented and followed along. They had, however, set a condition: he had to remain visible to them. Uju, engrossed in his forward sprint, only belatedly realized he had become separated from the staff.

‘What should I do? Am I going to get scolded?’

Upon reaching the stairs he had originally set out for, a wave of fear washed over him as he sat down. While we might be accustomed to being surrounded by strangers, for a child, even one as cheerful as Uju, the weight of breaking a promise with an unfamiliar adult seemed immense.

He felt he’d be scolded if he returned to the playground. With his siblings not coming to find him, boredom set in. That boredom soon gave way to drowsiness, prompting his decision to simply head home. The commercial building was, after all, closer to his apartment than the playground.

Thus, he recounted, he had arrived home, retrieved a snack from the refrigerator, eaten it, and then drifted off to sleep.

“Huh…”

True to his word, the remnants of a squeeze yogurt lay on the dining table.

“It’s a wonder you didn’t get lost.”

“Yeah! I even run errands!”

I simply couldn’t bring myself to scold the child, who spoke with such proud enthusiasm.

‘Seriously, are these kids being raised too independently? What five-year-old runs errands?’ A subtle resentment began to simmer within me towards the guardians who had entrusted these children to our care.

Emerging from the bathroom, the children quickly spotted Uju and rushed towards the tent.

“Why did you come in first…?” Suho grumbled, his tone subtly reproachful, while Heemang simply erupted.

“Uju! Why did you get to eat snacks all by yourself?!”

‘So that’s the most pressing issue for them right now.’

Yoon Jihyuk, towel in hand, did not join the children. Instead, he opened the inner door, stepped out, and then opened the shoe cabinet. After a quick glance inside, a wry, hollow laugh escaped him.

“He even put his shoes away so neatly.”

This, then, was the reason he hadn’t noticed Uju immediately upon entering.

“I’ll head downstairs and let the staff know.”

Without a moment to catch his breath, he swiftly exited the apartment. Just like that, I was left stranded in someone else’s home, alone with three energetic children.

“Idiot!”

“The one who calls someone an idiot is an idiot!”

‘How could he just leave me when the kids are fighting like this… No, never mind.’ Prolonging everyone’s stress would only create more problems.

“Who uses such mean words to their family?”

Inevitably, the role of mediator fell to me.

“Only Suho, who doesn’t use mean words, will get a snack.”

As I spoke and opened the refrigerator, the three children instantly swarmed around me.

“They said ‘idiot’ isn’t a bad word!”

“That’s right!”

The siblings, who had been bickering moments ago, now presented a united front, their synchronized agreement surprisingly endearing. Still, wrong was wrong.

“I never said it was a ‘bad word,’ I said it was a ‘mean word.'”

“Uh-oh…”

“If it makes the other person sad when they hear it, then it’s a mean word, isn’t it?”

Uju and Heemang exchanged serious glances, their eyes darting around. It seemed less like they were reflecting on their misbehavior and more like they were frantically trying to figure out how to escape their predicament.

I subtly offered a solution.

“If you two hold hands tightly and make up, I might feel like giving you a snack… Oh, Suho, here you go.”

I presented a squeeze yogurt and a small packet of biscuits. Suho thanked me, then promptly claimed a spot at the dining table.

Heemang, who had been watching him bite into his biscuit with both hands, trembled with anticipation. She then grabbed Uju’s hand with surprising force and shook it vigorously.

“We made up!”

“…Did you? Uju doesn’t look convinced.”

Uju, still being violently shaken, frantically shook his head.

“No, we did! We really did!”

‘Hmm, perhaps this is enough.’ I offered a concise “Alright” in response and handed the two children their share of snacks. To ensure fairness, Uju received only biscuits.

Leaning against the refrigerator, I observed the children gathered around the table. ‘I’ll need to brush their teeth before putting them to bed… Will I even manage it properly?’ Just as this fleeting thought crossed my mind, Suho, who had been the first to finish his snack, hopped down from his chair.

He then looked up at me with wide, expectant eyes. Assuming he had something to say, I asked, “Why?” and bent slightly at the waist. The child hesitantly began to speak.

“Aren’t you eating, hyung?”

“…Huh?”

“You said we’d all eat together…”

He was right. Suho had been thinking of me as a child, just like them. It was perfectly understandable for him to be puzzled by my inaction.

“Hmm, I’m saving mine for later, Suho. Shall we go brush your teeth now?”

The child’s expression was initially bewildered, but then he seemed to grasp my meaning, nodding his head before following me.

****

“Jihyuk! Why did you come out? Are the kids already asleep?”

‘How could they be? How little time has passed? Unless I’d tranquilized them, there’s no way they’d be asleep already.’ Yoon Jihyuk expertly concealed his slight exasperation, offering a polite smile.

“No, not at all. Uju was actually home alone. I came out to let you know that you can stop searching.”

“Oh! Really? You could have just called. Ah, but you wouldn’t have my number, would you?”

“…Precisely. I’ll also go inform the management office, so PD-nim, you can contact the staff members.”

“Yes! Thank you, Jihyuk!”

Though the urgent situation of a lost child might have necessitated it, using his manager for a search like this had only complicated matters. Kwon Yohan, preoccupied with the child, seemed oblivious to such minor annoyances. However, Yoon Jihyuk felt a faint weariness at having to personally handle this situation.

Still, it was certainly more peaceful than being with the children.

Dealing with young children was an exceptionally challenging endeavor. One could never predict their reactions to any given action. While he had pretended to be unfazed, there had been several heart-stopping moments that very day. This was especially true when they had demanded to be lifted onto the tunnel.

‘If they get hurt, who takes responsibility?’

It wasn’t that he lacked the desire to protect innocent, delicate children from harm. However, he invariably found himself considering such liabilities first.

Perhaps this was precisely why children felt so difficult to him. He knew he should simply clear his mind, relinquish control to them, and react swiftly to events as they unfolded. Yet, his ingrained habit of overthinking was not easily shed.

Strolling along the path, which, while not breathtakingly beautiful, was adequately landscaped, Yoon Jihyuk’s gaze suddenly lifted to the trees, their leaves just beginning to blush yellow and red.

When one’s life is a constant struggle, merely coping with the daily tasks that arise, it becomes difficult to truly perceive the flow of time. Some feel it rushes past in a dizzying blur, while others find the heavy burden of everyday life passing at an agonizingly slow pace.

Yoon Jihyuk had always considered himself to be among the latter.

‘But why does time feel so swift these days?’

The distinct shift in seasons struck him with a newfound clarity.

Kwon Yohan was a challenging individual. The reasons for this resonated with why Yoon Jihyuk found caring for children difficult today. While inferring Yohan’s thoughts was not overly complex, his actions remained stubbornly unpredictable. It would be disingenuous to claim that dealing with someone so erratic, like an unpredictable child, hadn’t brought its share of stress.

However, the Kwon Yohan of late…

The ‘child’ who had once felt like an unresolved problem now appeared as an equal, a reliable adult one could genuinely count on. Perhaps it was this sense of a lighter burden when he was around that had altered Yoon Jihyuk’s perception of time. Kwon Yohan now, for the most part, acted logically and within expected bounds.

Though there were still occasional moments when he neglected his own well-being.

Yet, Yoon Jihyuk could no longer read his thoughts as he once had. While Yohan’s actions clearly had context, something deeper, more intimate, remained hidden. Why was that?

If the team functioned effectively, there was no compelling reason to delve into someone else’s profound inner workings. Stirring up unnecessary trouble was not Yoon Jihyuk’s style.

‘Still…’

‘I want to know.’ A nascent desire, a subtle ambition, began to stir within him.