Chapter 198 : Chapter 198

Chapter 198: The Predetermined Ending

As ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍I lay still on the floor, overturned liquor bottles rolling across it came into view.

The ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍stench rising from those things, full of cigarette butts, had settled over the floor.

How ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍did I clean that up again?

If ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍I just threw them outside, the landlady would get angry, so I had to handle them properly.

Whack!

Lost ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍in stupid thoughts, I exhaled at the impact I felt in my stomach.

My dulled mind returned a little.

Whether that was because of the pain, or because of my father’s familiar vileness, I did not know.

Kicking the stomach of someone who had fallen and could not get up was truly like my father.

Perhaps because the difference in our physiques bothered him, with him growing smaller as he aged while I kept growing larger, he liked knocking me to the floor and beating me like this.

Pathetic bastard. He’s only full of fear.

But the bigger pathetic bastard was probably me, who had returned to the past and still could not come to my senses.

The past? Was this the past?

Was that why I was not as afraid?

“You bastard. Say that one more time. Where did you say you were going?”

“I told you I’m moving out next month.”

My mouth moved on its own.

Right. That day, I had definitely answered like this.

Perhaps it was not the answer he wanted, because I felt the force stepping on my hand grow stronger and stronger.

My father’s leg, placed over my hand, was shaking.

Even though his legs trembled from the slightest exertion, once in a while when his temper flared, he would charge at me like someone who could no longer see anything.

After my body had grown enough that I no longer had to fear the consequences of running away from him, there had not been many days when I quietly took it like this.

But on this day, I had thought I should simply endure his violence in silence.

Why was that again?

“Where are you trying to run to? Where are you trying to live well on your own......?”

He was muttering like a madman, but it was not unusual for him to mumble deranged nonsense while working up, so I did not stop thinking.

Why did I think I would just take the beating?

Why was I just lying here like this?

I knew how to get out of this, but I could not quite remember.

It felt as if I had lived another life, but everything else would not come to mind, as if hidden by the misfortune before my eyes.

I also knew something frightening would happen after this, but I could not remember what it was.

Today was a very frightening day.

“What are you muttering?”

Perhaps even my muttering displeased him, because my father struck my powerless cheek.

Maybe because I had been hit somewhere close to my head, my mind shifted with a discomfort similar to waking from deep sleep.

Right. Today was the day I told him I would leave the house.

I frowned at the memories gradually surfacing.

“I’ll make you a cripple today, so prepare yourself.”

Right. Father said this too. After that......

“One side won’t do. If I only break one side, you’ll run away......”

Feeling flames rise inside me, I lifted my head.

Even back then, I had been unable to endure the anger welling up inside me and had glared at him.

I knew why Father would not be satisfied with only breaking one leg.

He giggled as he looked into my eyes.

“Why? Your eyes look like they’re about to roll back now that your mother came up?”

Today was a special day.

The day I said I would leave the house, the day the story of my mother, who had vanished from my father’s mouth for eight years, came out, and...... the day I killed my father.

***

Though it did not suit me, the public library was the place where I spent most of my time after school.

Because it was the only place where I could kill time for free until night, and people would not look at me strangely.

Having no money, I could not go to an internet cafe, and I did not like games in the first place.

The stale cigarette smell that came from the men and older boys sitting in internet cafes also reminded me of someone.

A place where, as long as I held a book in my hands, no one paid attention to me and no one spoke to me.

The far end of the library, the deepest corner of the bookshelf. That was my reserved seat and my only refuge.

There was a larger library closer to school, but I liked this small library better.

Because my hero was here.

A protagonist with a fouler personality than me, stronger than me, crazier than me, and as unfortunate as me.

His story of gathering companions and defeating the wicked Imperial Family unfolded inside old books worn by many hands.

I liked that.

The way he, who had an oddly large number of similarities to me, pushed through his misfortune more calmly than I did.

The reason the moments when I was immersed in the hero’s misfortune were good was because the voice that pulled me out of them belonged to the person I loved most in the world.

“Suhyeon, it’s time to go home.”

I lifted my face from the book and awkwardly looked up at her kind face, then pretended not to see the hand she held out and turned my head away as I stood.

I did not say that holding Mom’s hand at my age was a little embarrassing.

Because I liked that she offered her hand every time even though she knew I would not take it.

Unlike Father, she did not shout. She simply waited while I put the book back where it belonged and returned.

“Were you reading that again?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not reading anything else? There are science books and reference books too.”

I looked at Mom’s young-looking face.

“I can’t promise I’ll grow up to become an amazing person and let you live comfortably. Even if I study hard, my head isn’t made for success.”

It was sincere in its own way, but perhaps she found something funny, because Mom let out a small laugh.

“I’m not telling you to study hard. I only said that because you’ve been reading that book lately. I wondered what was so good about it.”

I thought for a moment, then opened my mouth.

“It says the words I want to hear.”

She lightly frowned, as if she did not understand my answer.

What I meant was that the words the protagonist in the novel said strangely felt like words directed at me, but I knew that sounded somewhat strange too.

“I like the protagonist.”

When I roughly glossed over it, Mom nodded.

“If you like it that much, you should borrow it and read it at home. Mom has a library card.”

“No.”

I shook my head.

If it caught Father’s eye by some mistake, it would obviously be torn to pieces.

Then Mom would have to apologize to someone again.

She would cry, and I would talk back to Father and get beaten.

Rather than that, I preferred reading the book at the library like this and walking the night road with Mom.

On that road, where we sometimes indulged ourselves by buying bungeoppang to share, and sometimes indulged ourselves a little more by buying egg bread to share, smiles bloomed between us for the only time.

But when our house began to appear in the distance, we noticeably spoke less.

Both of us knew the reason, but neither of us carelessly put it into words.

I felt uneasy at the way her steps slowed as we drew closer to the house.

It was not because I was afraid of the monster inside the house.

I just hated how, if we kept going like this, Mom’s face would grow cloudy.

As I watched Mom’s face visibly become more and more frightened, I spat out the words that surged up in my chest.

“Mom, when I grow up, I’ll kill Father for you.”

Back then, what expression had Mother made?

I remembered that she silently placed her hand on my head.

She stroked my head very slowly and gently.

So I thought that was praise.

“No matter how much you hate your dad, you shouldn’t say things like that. If you say such frightening things, you’ll be punished later.”

I raised my head and looked at her horribly swollen eyelid.

It had been caused by Father throwing Mother’s Bible at her.

I knew that Mother only said that, and deep in her heart, she hated Father.

Whenever I said something harsh about Father, she would be startled for a moment by the violent language she herself could not use, then feel a little satisfied for a very short while, then calm herself again and tell me I should not say such things.

Because I liked that Mother looked happy even for a moment, I sometimes cursed Father like that.

I wanted her to be even a little happy, and to love me even a little more.

Ridiculously, the one who abandoned me while I struggled like that was Mother, and the one who raised me was Father.

***

After Mom left, I fought more often at school.

I gradually learned how convenient violence was, how easily fear controlled people, and how unpleasant yet pleasurable the moment of trampling on human dignity could be.

I was a little bigger than other kids my age, and because I always had bruises on my face, rotten bastards often clung to me.

It was not as if I avoided fights people picked with me, but as my body gradually grew larger, there were hardly any times when I lost a fight.

I had been beaten incomparably more than other children, and because of that, I knew well how to hit someone so that he felt enough pain to be unable to get up.

But even that did not last long.

Children’s fights usually led to the very disadvantageous result of being told to bring my parents.

Father did not come to school, but perhaps he found receiving calls from teachers extremely bothersome, because he would beat me like a dog.

Several times, I earned myself a few extra blows by sarcastically saying that someone who did not even come had so many things to be bothered by, and eventually, I stopped fighting.

Because as if he was wary of me gradually growing larger, the intensity with which Father beat me was increasing.

It also felt as if I would die if I was hit any more, and Father’s disgusting gaze as he looked at me like an opponent he had to crush and defeat became annoying.

Considering that the reasons I stopped beating people were only things like this, I was probably no different from Father.

Mom, who left the house, probably noticed that too.

That must be why she left us, the same kind of humans, together.

Just as she had expected, if I grew up and got married, I felt I would do something similar.

In that case, it would be better to live alone and die alone.

That should be fine.

I was never suited to living while rubbing shoulders with other people anyway.

***

Even after Mother disappeared, I left the house as part of my fixed routine and headed to the small library.

As a middle schooler, I still had no money, and the only place where I could freely spend time until Father got drunk and fell asleep was the library.

I did not know whether what I sought was the silent hero inside the book, or someone who had left the house.

When I sat down and read, I fell into the world inside the book again.

Perhaps because I had grown older, or because I had read the book dozens of times, I came to understand the protagonist a little better.

Why Ratel hated people, why he opened his heart, why he ultimately made those choices. The process of learning things I had not paid attention to before ate up time, and that was the perfect task for me.

Today was the part where Ratel crossed the cave at Wolf Cliff.

The scene where Ratel suffered while crossing a passage that people who had committed murder could not pass was my favorite scene.

Was it a little strange to say I liked it?

I just could not easily take my eyes off that part.

Thinking about it again, maybe it had been the part I found most heartbreaking.

Maybe I had wanted to tell him directly that it was not his fault.

But why had I wanted to say something like that?

He was the protagonist of the novel, so even without help from someone like me, he eventually seized victory.

This time too, he safely overcame the ordeal and defeated the werewolf.

Feeling an inexplicable pity and sympathy for a person inside a book whose face I had never seen, I shared his adventure.

Strangely, when I imagined the people inside the novel, I felt as if breathing became a little easier.

I knew that the sense of liberation, as if finally wearing clothes that fit after wearing clothes that did not suit my body, was my own weakness, wanting to escape reality, but I could not stop.

Because if I did not even do this, I would go insane.

The one who called me back to reality after I read all day like that was the elderly librarian’s voice.

At her guidance that it was almost closing time and I should leave, I put the book back in its place and stood.

The misery of knowing there was no longer anyone coming to pick me up made me face an even more miserable truth.

Mom had disappeared forever, and I had to endure the pain alone in a corner of a house that stank of alcohol.

But I had no choice but to go home.

Because Father had not abandoned me.

Because we were similar humans.

***

“Cough, cough......”

I looked down at him, unable to breathe properly.

Memories of the past surfaced with a strange vividness.

The memories that had grown a little faint became clear, and anger ignited.

When I put more strength into my hand, the eyes that had already been bloodshot glared at me with every capillary burst.

His mouth, opened to suck in even a single breath of oxygen, gaped with a foul stench.

“Who’s the other cripple?”

“Kgh, khh......!”

He clawed at my hand, but there was no way the trembling hands of an old alcoholic could do anything beyond scraping my skin.

Even so, I loosened my grip slightly so he could answer.

Mistaking that for something else, Father’s face spread into a twisted smile.

“What? What else, you crippled bastard. Did you think your mother never once came looking for you? She came in a hideous state, wherever she’d been living while getting beaten.”

His eyes swept over my face.

There was no way I could not know whom he was seeing through me.

It was also why I had been beaten more by him.

“So...... you ruined her leg?”

When I put strength into the hand gripping his neck, Father hurriedly opened his mouth again.

“Cough, yes!! That crippled thing said at the end she was going to take you away! The bitch who abandoned her own child had the nerve to come here with what face......”

I blankly looked down at him.

Beating an old man was very easy.

To a hollow degree.

Every time I saw him wither away day by day, and every time I felt the widening gap in strength between us, I had thought it.

That defeating this man would be easier than I imagined.

But even so, the reason I had not made that choice was because I wanted to somehow hide that I was the same kind of human as Father, and because of a little gratitude.

At least Father had not abandoned me.

Even after Mother left the house, he fed me and let me sleep.

Even if that treatment was worse than a dog raised in a house, and even if the years when he swung his fist at me were more numerous than the days he did not, he had not abandoned me until I grew up.

But foolishly, only now did I realize it.

He had not failed to abandon me. He had been keeping me caught.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Father, who watched me, burst into a fit of laughter as if this served me right, while still gauging my reaction.

“I clearly told her. If she settled down here again, she could live with her child. Then she started talking about lawyers, lawsuits, that stupid bitch. So I taught her again. What happens when she doesn’t listen to me? Then that crazy bitch ran away again, abandoning her child......”

I felt like I knew the rest without hearing it.

It would be the tear-jerking story of how Mother, who ran away like that, ruined her life and could never come back.

She was a timid person, someone who had been frightened even on the road back home with her son, who was completely on her side.

That mother had come to the house alone.

The person most afraid of being alone with Father had come all the way here to take me away.

And then she ended up hurt.

Indescribable anger swirled.

When he felt the strength slowly leave my hand, he shoved me.

I was obediently pushed back, then followed his fleeing back with my eyes.

As if one side of my head had been blown away, no other thought came, only the thought that I had to catch and kill him.

His back overlapped with Mother’s.

The frightened Father was exactly like Mother.

When she was beaten by Father, she also went inward like that.

Leaving the outside behind and going inward, inward.

A warning rang in my head that I should not enter that room right now, but I opened the door as I was.

Then I opened the door of the room with one bed and one small bookshelf remaining, and swept my eyes over the room.

Rolling liquor bottles, a blanket whose stale cigarette smell would not go away no matter how many times it was washed, and the bookshelf.

Was there originally a bookshelf there?

I had bought the bookshelf together with the bed after saving a bit more money.

No, what bed did we have in our house?

I hesitated for a moment at the sense of wrongness that flashed through my head, but then I discovered the small old man curled up and hiding between the bookshelf and the wardrobe, and moved forward.

“You crazy bastard! G-get away from me!”

When I followed him all the way into the room, he swung his hands wildly.

Receiving the weakest punches he had ever landed on me, I once again wrapped my hand around his neck.

I had to kill him right now.

No other thought came to mind.

I began choking him with all my strength.

“Kgh, khh......!!”

He struggled.

Only now realizing that he was dying by the hand of the son who had not once laid a hand on him for twenty-two years, he was flailing his arms this way and that.

When he pulled his body upward to somehow avoid my hands, the bookshelf pushed by him fell, and the things inside rolled around the room.

But I did not take my eyes off him.

I had to kill him.

It felt as if everything would end only if I killed him.

Only then did it feel as if I would be able to breathe comfortably in this world.

His movements were slowly stopping.

I knew that if I wanted to completely cut off his breathing here, I had to put in a little more strength.

It was easier than killing an insect.

I loosened my grip.

His unconscious body tumbled to the floor.

That sight did not greatly change the emotions inside me.

That also made me face one fact I had been trying to turn my eyes away from until now.

That I was a human not very different from Father.

I knew the ending of this story.