Chapter 67: Happiness is not something pure. (5)

Whoooooooosh—

The winter wind bit into the skin, sharp and cold. Kim Sun-il blinked, looking around in confusion. When he came to his senses, he realized he was in a completely unfamiliar place.

As he gathered his thoughts, something cold fell from the sky, landing softly on the ground. Large, fluffy snowflakes were piling up.

It was a bizarre situation.

Just moments ago, he had been pressing the accelerator, but now everything was different. Yet what unsettled him even more was that this place felt strangely familiar.

“…This place…”

The entrance to a public bathhouse.

It was the spot where, long ago, Kim Sun-il had been abandoned.

***

Had there been an accident?

Or had he lost consciousness while driving? Either way, things had played out exactly as he wanted. He had been itching to let go of the scene he was filming.

But then, something startled him.

At the entrance of the public bathhouse, he spotted a familiar face.

***

“Go take a bath. I’ll wait for you here,” a woman said.

“What about you, Mom?” asked a childlike voice.

“Mom already washed up at home. Especially you, Sun-il. You never wash properly after playing outside, do you? If you’re not clean enough, we’re not going home. Make sure you scrub really well.”

Little Kim Sun-il and his younger sister nodded earnestly, their small hands clasped together. Their mother, exactly as she appeared in his memories, gave them stern instructions.

It was vivid.

And that vividness was the problem.

As she hurried away, their mother’s expression revealed something Kim Sun-il had never noticed as a child.

Her eyes held a look of exhaustion, and her face was chillingly cold, almost cruel. For the children, who watched her retreating back without understanding, it was something they couldn’t even imagine.

***

“Hey.”

The scene remained vivid.

And that vividness continued to trouble him.

His mother’s face, as she left hurriedly, was etched with emotions he could never have noticed as a child.

The weariness, the quiet ruthlessness in her expression—something beyond the comprehension of the young children left behind.

***

Eventually, the young siblings, holding hands, returned to the bathhouse, searching for something. Hours later, they reappeared.

Their mother was still nowhere to be seen, but at least his sister had found her stuffed bear.

***

“I found it! Thank goodness!”

Unlike his smiling sister, young Sun-il wore a deeply anxious expression.

It was only natural. Though both were young, Sun-il was older. He could assess the situation more quickly, think more deeply.

He was starting to feel the weight of unease.

Time crawled by. Minutes turned into hours.

***

“…Brother?”

“Yeah?”

“Brother, I’m cold…”

By the time the sun rose again, the siblings were shivering with fear. The biting cold was unbearable, but the thought that their mother might not return was even more frightening.

Returning home on their own was impossible.

Their mother had left them in an unfamiliar town. They didn’t know the area around the bathhouse at all.

They didn’t even think to wander and explore.

That’s how faith works. These two small children clung to their belief that their mother would come back. It was such a strong conviction that it never occurred to them to move from the spot.

***

At some point, his sister’s frozen lips moved.

“Mom… isn’t coming back, is she?”

“What are you talking about?”

Young Sun-il’s voice snapped with irritation. He was more anxious than anyone else but tried to hide it.

“Why do you keep whining? Just wait.”

“But…”

The weather was brutally cold, and snow piled high on their hats, but that didn’t matter. They only waited, their eyes fixed on the hope that their mother would return.

***

“Brother, Mom isn’t coming back. She’s not coming…”

“She’ll come.”

“No, Brother. Mom isn’t coming back…”

Eventually, his sister began to cry.

“Brother, we have to go find her…”

“Wait.”

“No… we have to go find her…”

She was just a child.

She believed her brother could do anything and placed her trust in him. But young Sun-il was painfully aware of his helplessness.

***

“We should wait.”

Because of this, there was only one answer he could give.

“Brother, brother… can’t you go find her for us?”

At some point, young Sun-il snapped his eyes open.

“Shut up! It’s your fault in the first place!”

***

His sister flinched, visibly startled.

She trembled as tears welled in her eyes. For such a young girl, her brother’s anger was an unimaginable shock.

And watching this unfold, Kim Sun-il—the grown version—suddenly remembered.

***

“I remember this… this memory…”

This wasn’t a dream. It was something that had actually happened.

He had yelled at his sister in a fit of rage.

His mind had been panicking, and he was more scared than anyone else. Yet his helpless little sister’s constant pestering made him feel even more foolish and frightened. So he had taken it out on her.

***

Why had he forgotten this until now?

***

Young Sun-il continued to shout angrily.

“Mom might have just left us! She could have left while we were looking for that stupid doll! All because of that stupid doll!”

“B-Brother…”

“That dumb doll! Why does it even matter?!”

***

“Stop it.”

The grown Kim Sun-il spoke, his heart clenching at the scene.

But young Sun-il didn’t stop.

***

“It’s your fault! Mom isn’t coming back because of you!”

“It’s all your fault!”

***

At that moment, the older Kim Sun-il realized something.

He understood why his sister had developed a speech impediment.

Just as the older Kim Sun-il couldn’t forget the memory of being abandoned, his sister had likely been haunted by her own memories.

While he had internalized the blame for their mother leaving due to his own lack of cleanliness, his sister must have been living with guilt directed at him. She had carried this burden, even though there was no reason for her to feel guilty.

***

Kim Sun-il fell silent.

From then on, the siblings didn’t speak another word to each other.

That night.

They were discovered by strangers who found them collapsed from exhaustion.

***

Kim Sun-il’s mind drifted into a daze, but this strange space didn’t stop showing him scenes from his past.

The scenery shifted, and a slightly older version of himself appeared.

Perhaps he was in middle school at this point.

By then, he had already achieved a fair amount of success.

He had started his acting career, appeared in several dramas, and had reached a point where he could buy anything his sister wanted.

***

But looking at his younger self, Kim Sun-il felt a strange sense of discomfort.

“Was I… wearing that expression?”

From an outsider’s perspective, he could see it clearly now.

The middle-school-aged version of himself looked like he was on the verge of breaking down. He seemed fragile, as if burdened by a weight far too heavy for his shoulders.

***

The mirror in the practice room bore a handwritten list of goals:

1. Succeed and earn a lot of money.
2. Buy everything my sister wants.
3. Stay clean.

***

The goals were admirable enough.

But to the older Kim Sun-il, they felt oddly lacking.

Was it because of his conversation with Lee Sua?

Or perhaps because he now understood the reason behind his sister’s guilt?

***

For the first time, the absence of the word happiness in those goals stood out to him.

There was no mention of happiness in his objectives. And surely, what his sister truly wanted wasn’t on that list either.

Looking back now, those goals felt painfully incomplete.

***

Scenes of the practice room passed by for what felt like days.

And in each of them, his younger self appeared increasingly exhausted. His expression grew darker and darker.

He looked profoundly unhappy.

***

“Why?”

Kim Sun-il searched for an answer.

Why had he been so unhappy?

Why, despite his circumstances improving, did his younger self only seem to sink deeper into misery? It made no sense.

***

“Was it because of my sister’s illness? Was that weighing on me?”

But he immediately realized that couldn’t be it.

Even on the day his sister was temporarily discharged from the hospital, seemingly recovered, his younger self still wore a dark expression. There was relief, yes, but no trace of happiness.

***

Kim Sun-il kept searching for an explanation, and eventually, he found it.

The answer became clear as he watched his younger self scroll through his phone, browsing social media.

***

His eyes reflected photos of other people.

Some were eating delicious food with friends.

Some were visiting fun places.

Some were having exciting gatherings with loved ones.

Social media was filled with these snapshots of joy. And watching it, his younger self muttered under his breath:

“Pathetic.”

***

From that moment, Kim Sun-il gained insight into a critical piece of himself.

He had always viewed happiness as an obstacle.

Finally, he understood what had been wrong all along.

***

As someone living through those moments, he had never realized it. But with the clarity of an outsider’s perspective, it became obvious.

He had never intended to be happy.

To put it simply, Kim Sun-il believed he wasn’t meant to experience happiness.

To him, happiness was a waste of time.

***

For a child who had been abandoned, societal success was the only way to shield himself from judgment and disdain. Happiness, he thought, was incompatible with the relentless pursuit of success.

He believed that success required constant struggle, leaving no room for happiness.

In fact, he had even developed an aversion to it.

To Kim Sun-il, happiness was like his mother: something that could betray him at any time. No matter how much he tried to live joyfully, success and money were the only guarantees in life.

***

At some point, the younger version of himself finished practicing his acting and began cleaning the studio with a broom.

He suddenly stopped and stared into the mirror, muttering softly with a hollow look in his eyes.

“How did it end up like this? Am I going to live like this forever?”

His voice was so filled with despair it was almost grating.

“Why is it always so hard?”

These were questions he had once dismissed.

He used to think that hardship was proof of his effort and should be seen as something to take pride in.

But now, Kim Sun-il knew the answers to those questions.

Perhaps, even back then, his younger self had sensed his unhappiness. The hardships he spoke of weren’t physical exhaustion—they were the symptoms of a broken spirit.

And now, finally, he understood.

“…You—no, I.”

Kim Sun-il spoke to himself.

“I never acknowledged how pitiful I was.”

He had tried to be impeccable, to leave no room for error.

He strove to become a person worthy of success.

But none of that had anything to do with happiness. In truth, he hadn’t even known who he was.

He thought he was strong, but he was more fragile than anyone. He believed he was clean, but in reality, he was an empty vessel, holding nothing.

He was, at best, a blank slate—untouched and unmarked.

Scrub, scrub, scrub—

Just like his younger self, who was now obsessively applying hand sanitizer.

Young Sun-il was wiping his hands frantically, as though infected by some disease, scrubbing away the dirt from cleaning.

Soon, he began scrubbing his arms, the motions growing more violent—almost as if he were having a seizure.

“I must stay clean. Always clean…”

His obsession with cleanliness.

It wasn’t just cleanliness—it was closer to bleaching himself.

“I can’t… I can’t be dirty…”

To avoid admitting that he was a child abandoned by his parents, he constantly bleached himself, figuratively speaking.

He didn’t know what happiness or unhappiness truly meant.

So he erased everything that touched his body and mind.

At least, by erasing everything, there would be no bad left behind. And so he desperately wiped everything away, always, to avoid being hurt.

Watching his younger self, Kim Sun-il thought:

“So, what do I do now?”

He had come to understand why he had been unhappy.

But even now…

He didn’t know how to find happiness.

Even if he resolved to be happy, it wasn’t something he could create out of thin air. After all, he had spent his entire life pushing happiness away. It was only natural.

But then Kim Sun-il rejected that thought.

“No, that’s not right. I know why I was unhappy. If I can remove that unhappiness, won’t that make me at least a little happier?”

His thoughts began to crystallize.

“I just need to remember one thing: the courage to accept myself.”

“The courage to admit that I am a pitiful man, a child abandoned by his parents. The courage to let anything—good or bad—mark me.”

At that moment—

…!

His younger self’s eyes widened in shock. He had spotted Kim Sun-il watching him, their eyes meeting.

Kim Sun-il instinctively realized that, from now on, he could intervene in this world.

“Wh-who are you?!”

His younger self stammered, but Kim Sun-il didn’t answer.

Instead, he grabbed a handful of dust from the trash can and flung it at the boy who had been obsessively sanitizing his hands.

“Wha—ahhh! What are you doing?!”

Young Sun-il freaked out, practically convulsing.

It was only natural. Someone with his level of obsessive cleanliness had been forcibly covered in dust. The discomfort was unimaginable.

But Kim Sun-il took a deep breath.

“I think I understand now.”

He finally realized what he needed.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the trash can, lifted it above his head, and shook it vigorously.

Thunk—! Thunk—! Thunk—!

Used tissues, empty bread wrappers, dust—every time he shook it, more trash rained down on his head.

Yet he didn’t stop.

Thunk—! Thunk—! Thunk—!

His younger self stared in horror.

“Why—why are you doing this?! Are you crazy?!”

But Kim Sun-il had no time to answer.

He was too busy gritting his teeth.

Even now, his body reacted instinctively, recoiling from the sensation of dust clinging to his skin. It felt like thousands of bugs crawling over him—a form of torture for someone with his obsessive cleanliness.

But he didn’t stop. In fact, he pressed on harder.

Thunk—! Thunk—! Thunk—!

“What I need is the willingness to let anything leave its mark on me.”

The trash poured over him, defiling his meticulously maintained appearance in an instant.

The sensation was like countless insects biting into his skin. It was almost enough to make him faint. Yet he didn’t stop.

Because he had decided to change.

“This is all my sister ever wanted.”

She had simply wanted Sun-il to be happy.

And now, there was something new.

He wanted to be happy, too.

So he wouldn’t back down.

Having been covered in all sorts of trash, there was no further cleanliness to protect. But the dust clung to him persistently, as if refusing to let go.

So he let it.

Kim Sun-il allowed the dust to settle over every inch of his body.

***

Time passed.

Eventually, when the unbearable discomfort finally subsided.

He found himself wearing the trash can like a party hat. Covered in dust, looking more disheveled than ever, he stared at his younger self.

A man who had avoided everything that could touch his heart, now determined to embrace it all—even if it was late. He had finally decided to let himself feel.

A moment of silence.

But it didn’t last long.

“H-ha, haha…!”

His younger self burst into laughter at the sight of him.

“Ha-ha-ha! What are you?! Hahaha!”

Kim Sun-il quietly watched his younger self laugh.

Seeing his younger self laugh wasn’t so bad.

After a moment, he glanced at the mirror.

Even his own dust-covered reflection wasn’t so bad.

He realized that marking his once-pristine self would inevitably bring pain and filth. But he also knew that refusing to let anything leave its mark was just cowardice.

Even in the midst of misfortune, the happiness that could stand out boldly was enough. That was all Kim Sun-il wanted now.

Kim Sun-il closed his eyes and opened them again.

Whooosh!

The world shifted once more.

When he opened his eyes again:

Whooosh—!

His foot was pressing hard on the accelerator, his car speeding through the tunnel. He instinctively understood—it was reality.

As he scanned his surroundings frantically, he realized that he had just passed the halfway point of the tunnel.

What was that he had just seen? Was it a fleeting vision, like his life flashing before his eyes?

At that very moment, the radio crackled to life.

“Lee Gang-cheol! Remember, if you don’t catch him now, you never will!”

It was Seo Yeon-ju’s voice, playing Ha Yoon-jin.

***

Wait, if this is the line she’s delivering now…?

This marked the final part of the script.

From this point onward, he would have to rely purely on his own creativity to carry the scene.

He had reached the moment where he needed to choose one of the two options written in the script. It was a critical decision, made all the more significant because it came at the climax of the story.

But something strange was happening.

For Kim Sun-il, the answer was remarkably clear.

He had built his career meticulously, maintaining an impeccable record. If he let the culprit escape now, it would leave a permanent stain on the career he took such pride in.

However.

Lee Gang-cheol.

No—Kim Sun-il—grabbed the radio without hesitation.

“Understood.”

There was no need for further thought.

“But.”

His words, his actions—they had already been decided.

“I’m going to Kim Yuhan.”

Even with stains on his record, he knew there would still be moments of happiness.

And surely, friendship was one of those moments.

Vroooom—!

He pressed down harder on the accelerator.

The car seemed to have been waiting for his decision, as it pushed itself to its limits.

Whooosh—!

Kim Sun-il’s car overtook the culprit’s vehicle. But he didn’t swerve to block the culprit’s path.

Whoooosh—!

Instead, he sped up relentlessly.

Lee Gang-cheol didn’t hesitate, even knowing it would tarnish his career. Similarly, Kim Sun-il wasn’t afraid of performing without a script.

Neither of them would regret their decisions.

“…!”

The production crew, watching the scene unfold on their monitors, all stood up at once. They were visibly stunned.

For the first time, the character Lee Gang-cheol—who had never acted on personal feelings throughout the story—had shown his true desires.

He wasn’t acting out of duty.

He was acting out of what he truly wanted to do.

And now, Kim Sun-il also knew what he wanted.

SCREEEEECH—!

He pressed the accelerator even harder.

Now he understood.

Happiness wasn’t something clean or pristine.

But that’s precisely what made it happiness.

Only those who dared to get dirty could grasp it.

“Kim Yuhan. Respond. I’m on my way.”

Just like he was racing forward without hesitation now.