Chapter Three: Kim Joonmyun

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He walked around, trying to find the first person he would get tears from. It was around 5 PM. The city lights were . He tried to find out where he got to. He read some shop signs and realized he was in Korea.

‘Wow, I flew that fast?’ he thought to himself. ‘Good thing I know a little bit of Korean.’

The people were scrambling about their businesses. Kris felt that he wouldn’t find anyone here, so he went to the quieter parts of town. He came to a quiet neighborhood. There were no children out playing anymore. Every family seems to be in their houses having dinner.

‘I miss my grandfather all of a sudden,’ he thought.

 When he came to the farthest part of the neighborhood, he saw someone get out of his house. It was a man in a crisp polo shirt with rolled up sleeves and sharp black slacks. He looked like a business man. Kris watched him and observed closer. The man looked deeply stressed by the way his forehead is creased. He was holding a phone to his ear and what he was listening to from the other line seems to stress him out more. When he ended the call, he sighed deeply and sat on the curb. He lowered his head between his arms. Kris blinked.

‘What was that about?’ he thought. He approached the man cautiously.

“Excuse me?” Kris said slowly. The man looked up at him and seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, it’s you, isn’t it?” said the man without a hint of surprise.

Kris raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“I dreamed of you,” said the man. “They said you would come to my aid when I needed you, yet it will only happen once. I didn’t really believe it until I saw you.”

Kris was stumped. He was at a loss for words. ‘What the hell is this man saying?’ he thought. The man shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Kim Joonmyun.”

He stood up and stretched his hand towards Kris and Kris awkwardly shook it. “How do you do, Mr. Kim? My name is Wu Fan, but people call me Kris.”

“Nice to meet you, Kris,” said Joonmyun. “You can call me Suho, just Suho, if you like.”

“Ok…Suho,” said Kris. He mentally facepalmed himself. This is damn awkward. But he also became a little curious. “You said that your dream said that you needed me. What do you need me for?”

Suho sighed. “Let’s go inside so that we can get into a more comfortable setting.” He led Kris into his house. It was rather cold in there. There were only a few lights on. There were pictures on the walls and above the mantelpiece, but they were all covered in a layer of dust. Kris noticed one picture. It had a younger Suho in it with his arm around a beautiful woman and his other hand on the shoulder of a young boy. Beside the boy was an older girl carrying a baby. They all looked happy in the picture. Kris wondered what happened to them.

“Ah, I see you’ve discovered my prize picture,” said Suho all of a sudden. He came up to Kris and stood beside him.

“Is this your family, sir?” asked Kris.

Suho nodded and gazed at the picture. “That’s my wife, Minseol, and my kids. My eldest, her name is Minjung, and my youngest, Minji. And here is my only son Minsung.”

“What happened to them, sir?” asked Kris again. He almost regretted asking when Suho lowered his head mournfully.

“Minseol, unfortunately, had left this world,” said Suho quietly.

“Oh… I-I’m sorry,” said Kris sheepishly.

Suho shook his head and looked back at the picture. “Minjung has married and is now living in the US. She has Minji with her, and she’s now a high school senior. Minsung is very busy at the moment studying law in China.”

“Don’t they come home often, sir?” asked Kris.

Suho sighed deeply as if he couldn’t breathe, as if he was about to cry. “Let’s sit down.” He sank into the couch and Kris sat on the chair across him. Suho took out a hanky and wiped his forehead. Kris watched him with regard. Suho sighed deeply again before delving into his story.

“My children seem to think that it was my fault that their mother died,” started Suho heavily. “It was a Wednesday night, and I was busy at work…”

--flashback—

“Dad! Dad, come home quick!”

“Minsung? What is it?”

“It’s mom!” said Minsung breathlessly. “She’s—” Then the line went dead.

“Minsung? Minsung!” I yelled. I threw my phone down, grabbed my coat, and hurried home.

But when I got home, it was too late. I came upon a horrifying and traumatic scene. Many things were broken. The living room was disarranged. Broken glass littered the floor. Minjung, my cherished eldest, was kneeling on the floor amidst the broken glass in front of the body of my dear Minseol. Her eyes were transfixed on her mother’s body, unmoving, unfeeling. Minseol was barely breathing, and she was unconscious. Minsung had in his arms a crying baby Minji. He, too, was stunned. The only sound to be heard was Minji’s crying and my footfalls on broken glass. I didn’t know what to do or how to react.

My eyes only widened as I took in the scene. I walked as quietly as I could towards Minsung.

“What happened?” I whispered and took Minji from Minsung and attempted to console her. Minsung didn’t reply quickly. Minjung turned to face me sharply. Her face was tear-stricken as it was horrified.

“You,” she said, her voice coated with loathing.

“What?” said I, dumbfounded. Why is she talking to me like this?

Minjung stood up and trudged toward me. She narrowed her eyes at me. “This is your entire fault.”

“Sweetheart, how is it my fault?” I said softly. I tried to get close to Minseol, but Minjung shoved me hard.

“If you didn’t stay at work all the time, you would’ve known what happens every time you’re gone,” said Minjung, her voice rising with each word. “If you didn’t stay over-time at work tonight you would’ve been able to stop uncle from…from…”

“Minjung, honey, what exactly happened to your mother?” I asked. Everything felt surreal. I gave Minji back to her older brother and put my hands on Minjung’s shoulders, which the girl shrugged off coldly.

“Don’t touch me,” she said. She glared at me one last time before kneeling back in front of Minseol. She started crying and mumbling.

“Mom…Mom, please, wake up…”

“Dad,” said Minsung all of a sudden. I turned to him.

“What happened, son?” I asked. Minsung motioned for me to come upstairs with him. We went into Minjung and Minji’s room. Minsung laid Minji down and tucked her in.

“Dad, I don’t know why mom kept this from you,” said Minsung and turned to me. “Uncle Jungryeol often comes here drunk at night. We can’t stop him; we tried, and Minjung and I ended up injured.”

I remembered asking Minsung what happened to his arm and he had said he tripped during football practice. And Minjung had been limping for a while before too. I stayed silent.

“He would thrash about and mess up the whole house,” continued Minsung. “And that’s not the worst thing he’s done. Lately he’s been hurting mom. I guess she didn’t want to tell you because it would distract you from work.”

I sank down on Minjung’s bed and buried my face in my hands. Minsung awkwardly stood to the side.

“Why didn’t she tell me?” I said, more to myself. “She’s my wife; I’m her husband.”

“I called the ambulance shortly after I called you,” said Minsung. “Uncle knocked the phone out of my hands.”

We heard the ambulance coming, and Minjung rode in it with her mother while I drove our car after them with Minsung and Minji on the passenger’s seat.

--end of flashback—

“She didn’t last long in there,” said Suho. “She l-lost too much blood…”

Kris winced. He never really liked the mention of blood. “Sir, you don’t have to tell me—”

“No, no,” said Suho, stopping him. “I have to tell you, or you won’t be able to help me.”

Kris didn’t know how to react to this. The white lady never told him he had to help someone.

“Ok…” said Kris awkwardly. “What happened next?”

“M-Minjung called her aunt in the US and she gladly took the kids in,” said Suho thickly. “I only found out when I came home and found a letter written by Minsung with a mug of cold coffee. My eldest, my treasure, really hated me. And she taught Minji to hate me too. Only my son talked to me often, but when he got busy, he gradually forgot to call me too.”

Kris felt touched by the story. He never had a real family to depend on; he was always on his own when he ran away when he was 16. He went up to Suho and gave him a tight hug, like how he used to hug his granddad. Suho was taken aback, but he relaxed and hugged Kris back.

“You know what, Sir Kim?” said Kris. “Somewhere up there, Miss Minseol knows what really happened, and she knows it’s not your fault. I think Minsung thinks the same. Let’s only hope that he’s trying to convince his sisters.”

Suho nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Kris. Let’s hope so.”

Suho let Kris have something to eat before he walked him outside. Just as Kris was about to leave, Suho’s phone rang. He answered it and his face lit up for a bit.

“Minsung? Is that you, son?” he said hopefully. He let Kris hear Minsung.

“Yes, yes, dad, it’s me,” said a deep voice very much like Suho’s from the other line. “Are you doing ok?”

“I’m fine, son,” replied Suho. “Are you?”

“Yes, dad,” said Minsung. “Hey dad, listen, school break is up and I think I could go home for a while.”

“Really?” said Suho excitedly. “That’s great news!”

“And dad, there’s someone who’d like to talk to you,” said Minsung. The other line crackled and a new voice, a more feminine one, came through.

“Dad?”

Suho gasped. “M-Minjung? Honey? Is that you?”

“Y-Yes dad,” said Minjung. Her voice was trembling. “Dad…dad I’m so sorry. I’ve been so stupid and blind.”

Suho’s chin shook. Suddenly, the vial around Kris’ neck glowed, but Suho never noticed it. Kris’ eyes widened as he looked into the vial. A drop was rolling in it like liquid mercury, silver in color and glowing. Kris lifted his head and saw a tear roll down Suho’s smooth cheek.

Pure tears. Pure love. Happiness.

Before Kris could jump up and down thanking Suho, he noticed the sun peeking above the hills. His eyes widened and signaled to Suho that he had to go. Without waiting for a reply, he darted away from the street and hid behind a thick tree in the neighborhood playground. There his transformation took place. The coat he was wearing dropped to the ground. He picked it up with his beak before taking off. Once up, he heard a voice from below.

“Thank you, Kris, kind stranger, wherever you are now. May the odds be ever in your favor,” called Suho’s voice. He smiled and flew on and away.