Chapter 70: Happiness is not something pure. (8)

Meanwhile, at the same time, on set.

“Is that… _?”

“Oh my, it is!”

“Unbelievable. That’s actually _.”

People enjoying the celebration paused in their steps here and there. They had stumbled upon an unexpected and astonishing sight. Even Seo Yeon-ju’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“…What’s going on with them?”

_ was sitting in a chair, head tilted back, fast asleep.

This was shocking because they were someone everyone had believed to be unshakable, a person who never let their guard down. The sight left everyone stunned, but soon they understood. The recent filming schedule had been grueling. It was a wonder they had held out this long.

But _ wasn’t asleep because of physical exhaustion.

Rather, they had finally found peace. The burdens in their heart had lifted, and at last, they could rest.

Whiiirrrrr—

In their dreams, _ found themselves back in a familiar place.

Whiiirrrrr—

“…This place again, huh.”

Their first thought was calm and indifferent.

The wind was biting cold, sharp enough to cut through skin. Snow fell heavily from the sky, accumulating steadily on the road. And once again, they were standing in front of the abandoned bathhouse.

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

“….”

“It’s because of you!”

Their past self was there as well.

The siblings were fighting, or more accurately, the older sibling was lashing out in fear and anger over their mother not returning.

But then, something unexpected happened.

“…Huh?”

The siblings noticed _.

That’s when _ realized something was different from the previous dream. This time, the siblings were aware of their presence.

The two children stared up at _ with wide, startled eyes.

“W-Who are you? When did you get here?”

“Who are you?”

Their faces showed traces of fear—and understandably so. The size difference between them and _ was overwhelming, and _ was well aware of their own sharp features.

“I am…”

_ started to introduce themselves but stopped mid-sentence.

They considered telling the children that their mother would never return but held back. Another thought crossed their mind.

“Wait, if this is a dream…”

If this was a dream, didn’t that mean they had omnipotent control here?

Realizing this, _ felt an urge.

They were now someone who could think about what they wanted to do. And this dream was a space where they could make it happen.

“Should I let them see their mother?”

But they quickly shook their head.

That wasn’t the answer, nor was it what they truly wanted.

They didn’t want to offer the siblings a false happiness. Instead, they felt compelled to act on the deeper desire within them—the one thing they truly needed to do.

And so, _ spoke.

“Are you waiting for your parents?”

The children nodded.

“It must be cold. Lonely, even. Scary.”

Once again, the children nodded, purely and innocently.

“It’s freezing out here. Why not wait inside the bathhouse?”

“We can’t. Mom will come soon….”

This time, the children shook their heads.

_ pondered for a moment before coming up with an idea. A moment later, they were holding hand warmers in both hands. Just thinking about having them had made it so.

They handed the warmers to the children.

“Here, hold these at least. Your hands must be freezing.”

“Huh…?”

The children looked surprised but didn’t refuse. The biting cold was too harsh to decline the kindness of a stranger.

Time passed.

_ handed the children more hand warmers as needed and even conjured up a hat resembling those worn by roasted chestnut vendors to keep them warm. Yet, despite all this, their mother never appeared.

More time went by.

Eventually, one of the siblings hesitantly spoke to _.

“Um…”

“Hmm? Need another warmer?”

“No, that’s not it….”

The younger version of themselves cautiously opened their mouth.

“…Why are you staying here with us?”

It was a question filled with gratitude for their company but also tinged with worry. The child’s voice carried both appreciation and unease.

_ understood the intent behind the question perfectly.

The younger self felt guilty about keeping _ here, even though they also feared losing the practical warmth and snacks they had been providing.

In response, _ quietly conjured up a fresh batch of fish-shaped pastries.

“I have something I’m waiting for, too.”

“Oh, I see…!”

Hearing this, the siblings visibly relaxed.

Children are often simple in their thinking. If they believed someone was staying with them purely out of obligation, it would weigh heavily on their minds. But knowing _ had their own reasons for being there made it easier for them to accept the situation.

More time passed.

Unlike before, the siblings were able to endure much longer this time. They were warm, they had food, and they even had a small tent _ had conjured for them.

Naturally, they began to grow closer to _.

The siblings chatted endlessly, their words spilling out without pause. _ didn’t mind and joined in their conversations.

“Hey, mister.”

“Yes?”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m an actor. I perform in front of cameras.”

“Wow!”

The siblings’ eyes sparkled in unison. Even to adults, being an actor is seen as something extraordinary. To children, it’s even more magical.

But then came an unexpected question.

“So, mister, what kind of person are you?”

The inquiry was sharp in its simplicity. Children’s questions are often straightforward, seemingly random, yet they can pierce deeply.

“What kind of person am I…?”

In the past, _ wouldn’t have answered such a question.

They might have dismissed it as unworthy of their time or even corrected the child, saying the question itself was flawed.

But the current _ had no difficulty answering.

“I’m a pathetic person. A pitiful one.”

“Pathetic? Pitiful?”

The siblings tilted their heads in confusion.

“It’s true. I’ve had a lot of bad things happen in my life.”

“Oh….”

Children are surprisingly perceptive. They didn’t press further. The younger sibling looked curious, but the older one gently covered their mouth to stop any further questions.

About a week later.

“Hey, mister.”

One day, the younger version of themselves spoke up in a serious tone. Their younger sibling was sound asleep beside them, blissfully unaware.

“Yes? What’s on your mind?”

“Well… I think…”

The child hesitated before finally speaking.

“I think our mom abandoned us.”

_ felt their chest tighten.

It was strange. This was something they had already experienced and grown numb to, yet it still felt so vivid. No, this wasn’t something they had personally endured. It was a new scenario, a possibility they hadn’t faced before.

Even so, it hurt. It was painful to see the fear and despair etched on their younger self’s face.

They wanted nothing more than to create their mother right there and then.

This was a dream. They could conjure up a figure of their mother, allow the siblings to reunite, and give them joy. The children would be ecstatic, the happiest they’d ever been, and return home with smiles brighter than the sun.

But no, they couldn’t do that.

That wasn’t the right thing to do.

And so, they endured.

Even as their heart felt like it was being torn apart by thorns, they bore the pain and asked quietly.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It’s been days, and she hasn’t come back.”

Surprisingly, the younger version of themselves continued speaking.

“Now that I think about it, there were always strange things. This bathhouse is in a place we’ve never been to before. And mom told us to take our time and wash up thoroughly.”

“I see.”

“And she still hasn’t come back. I think she abandoned us. Looking back, mom sometimes looked at us with tired eyes. Back then, I didn’t understand what that expression meant. But now, I think I get it.”

“I see.”

_ listened quietly, letting the younger self share their thoughts.

Finally, they asked.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No.”

The child shook their head.

“You’ve already helped us so much. And you said you have something you’re waiting for, too. I think we’ll be okay now. From now on, I’m going to look around with my sibling.”

“Look around? With your sibling?”

“Yes. Waiting here hasn’t changed anything. I’ve realized that if we don’t do something ourselves, nothing will get better.”

It was a wise decision, but at the same time, it meant the siblings were about to embark on a path through hell.

What could two children accomplish on their own? They would soon learn how sharp the world could be. They would get hurt—both physically and emotionally. They might even reach a point where they wished for death.

However, the siblings didn’t realize something important.

_ had been waiting for this very moment. Gently, _ placed their hands on the young version of themselves.

There was something they had been longing to say. That was the entire reason they hadn’t conjured up a vision of the mother yet. They needed this conversation with themselves.

“That’s a good plan. But it won’t be easy.”

“I know.”

“Even so?”

“Yes. My sibling trusts me. That’s why.”

“I see…”

_ nodded.

It felt strange hearing such words from their younger self. But they needed to stay strong. There was still something _ needed to say—something important, something that couldn’t wait.

At that moment, the younger self asked a question.

“Mister.”

“Yes?”

“You’re so strange.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You said you’re a pitiful and pathetic person, but I don’t see you that way. I don’t know much, but you seem like an amazing person. And more than anything…”

“More than anything?”

“…You seem happy.”

Happy.

That’s what the younger self said after looking at _.

“So, Mister, I’m curious.”

“Go ahead, ask.”

“Do you think I’ll ever be happy? Don’t tell my sibling, but I’m really scared and having a hard time right now. I feel like I’m one of those pitiful people you mentioned. What if I’m unhappy forever?”

_ gently patted the young self’s shoulder, trying to reassure them.

“I know a way to get closer to happiness.”

“…Really? Can you tell me? Please?”

“Of course. The key is…”

Looking directly into their younger self’s eyes, _ said:

“…Living according to the meaning of your name.”

“The meaning of my name?”

The young version of _ furrowed their brow. It was a response born out of confusion, as though they had just heard something incomprehensible.

“What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Seon-il. Kim Seon-il.”

“Kim Seon-il…”

_ repeated the name slowly, letting it linger.

Kim Seon-il (金善一).

The characters for “good” (善) and “one” (一). Together, they made up the name Seon-il.

_ didn’t know why their mother had chosen that name. It likely didn’t hold any deep meaning. After all, their mother had probably intended to abandon the siblings from the start.

Even so…

The words _ needed to say to their younger self—the thing they absolutely had to do—was to redefine the meaning of that name.

It was a way to give themselves a second chance at life.

“Seon-il.”

“Yes, Mister.”

“Do you know a little bit about Chinese characters?”

“…Just a little.”

_ stepped outside the tent and traced the name in the snow with their finger: 善 (good) and 一 (one).

“The first character means something good, and the second one means one. Do you understand so far?”

“I think so. I learned those characters before. Does it mean I should find one thing I’m really good at and stick to it? That’s how I’ve always thought about my name.”

After thinking for a moment, the younger self added:

“Oh! Does it mean if I find what I’m good at and do that, I’ll be happy? That seems like it makes sense.”

“No, that’s not it.”

_ shook their head.

They had found what they were best at—acting. But doing that didn’t necessarily make them happy. That wasn’t the point.

“It’s about what you love the most. That’s what 善 (good) is for.”

“What I love the most?”

“Yes. It’s about doing what you want to do. I know that now.”

The younger self seemed deep in thought, then tilted their head.

“But Mister, that’s strange.”

“What is?”

“What I love changes all the time.”

With a confident tone, the younger self continued:

“Right now, I want to find Mom. When I’m hungry, I want to eat. So having a name that tells me to focus on just one thing seems weird. What I want keeps changing.”

_ smiled gently.

“I see your point. But that’s not quite it.”

“Then what does it mean?”

_ gently held the younger version of himself by the hand, guiding his small finger to the character “一” (one) and said:

“One step at a time.”

“One step at a time?”

“Yes. Do the things you want to do, one by one. That’s the meaning of your name. Just live like that from now on.”

“Oh…”

Every word gains true meaning only when it holds significance. Thus, _ decided to imbue his long-empty name with purpose.

Discovering and doing what you want, one step at a time—this small but precious meaning was something he had only now realized.

“Did you know? Only doing what you want can be surprisingly difficult.”

“Really?”

The younger self looked puzzled, as if he couldn’t quite imagine it.

“Yes. Doing what you want means you might face setbacks, and those can hurt a lot. Not everything in life goes the way you want it to.”

“Ah, I think I understand. Honestly, I don’t even know if I can find Mom. I’m not sure I have it in me.”

“It’d be great if you could find her, but if you can’t, then just move on to the next thing you want to do. That’s all you need to do.”

“I’ll remember that.”

The younger self’s eyes sparkled as he traced the characters in the snow a few times, trying to remember what _ had told him.

Then, suddenly, after a moment of silence:

“Hey, Mister.”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask what your name is?”

_ released his grip on the young boy’s shoulder, stood up, and gazed at the sky.

Snow was still falling, blanketing the world in pure white.

“My name?”

The snow seemed to erase everything it touched, leaving the world spotless.

Even as it settled on his shoulders, turning him white, _ was now certain of one thing:

The realizations etched into his heart would not be erased. Happiness wasn’t something pristine—it was something that could endure stains and turbulence without being easily washed away.

Speaking his name aloud now felt monumental. It was a name that had finally gained meaning.

“My name is…”

In front of the abandoned bathhouse where two young children had waited endlessly for their mother to return, three days had passed. Perhaps, in a sense, _’s time had stopped since that moment.

Time had been frozen as he resented his mother, endured the pressure of acting as a parent to his younger sister, and chased success relentlessly. He could never forgive himself.

But now, at last, he had made peace with himself—by giving his name meaning.

And so, he opened his mouth and spoke:

“Kim Seon-il! Just like you!”

Somehow, he had transformed into the young boy again, smiling brightly as he shouted.

Kim Seon-il’s Yeoncheon-gyeong—Reconciliation.

On the fourth day, the boy finally received his name—a name he could carry and honor for the rest of his life.