Seeing the two-story Western-style house in Geumho-dong, built in the 1970s, filled Joo-young with warmth. Just as he always had, he deftly slipped his hand through the bars of the iron gate and opened the latch before going inside. The front door wasn't locked. His parents, who tended to go to bed early, would often leave the front door unlocked when Joo-young wasn't home yet. He carefully opened the door to their bedroom and, sure enough, his parents were asleep. His emotions surged. But he couldn't wake them, throw his arms around them, and burst into tears like he was filming some melodrama. He simply watched them for a while, quietly closed the door, and went upstairs to his old room. As soon as he entered, he changed clothes and sat down at his desk. He was fairly exhausted, but there was something he had to do. Joo-young began drafting what he considered a clever plan, the prophecy letter of the century, which had occurred to him on the subway.
Joo-young's mother had been a firm believer in shamanism. Every October, she would invite a Buddhist monk to perform a blessing ritual; whenever she heard of a fortune-teller with a reputation for being accurate, she would travel any distance to see them. She put three-ills talismans in every room, protective talismans on every family member's belongings, and never neglected to chant incantations or pray. Joo-young's clever plan was to target and make use of a mother like that. The draft he wrote went roughly like this:
‘To the Bodhisattva: Your son, Ki Joo-young, will marry someone-or-other on such-and-such a date, have his first daughter the following year, and his second daughter two years after that. You must make him divorce her before the younger girl turns three. If you don't, your son will suffer an untimely accidental death on the spot. Because your merit is so great, I am revealing the secrets of heaven to you, so take this to heart. From an unknown mystic.’
After finishing the draft, Joo-young took magazines from the bookshelf and piled them on his desk. This was back when there was no PC or printer in the house, so the only way to conceal his handwriting was to cut out the letters one by one from magazines and paste them together. It would take quite a while, but he could finish before the twelve hours he could remain at this time point ran out.
The prophecy letter of the century was complete before dawn. Of course, the finished version included the exact date and his wife's full name, so no one could possibly fail to believe this astonishing prophecy. He had said her son would die instead of his daughter-in-law because that seemed more urgent. Just in case, he added that the two of them absolutely had to have two daughters; otherwise, her son would suffer an untimely accidental death.
Joo-young carefully put the finished letter into a document envelope, crept downstairs, and opened the small door at the back of the kitchen. Outside was the courtyard of earthenware jars, where his mother would sometimes set out purification water and pray. Quite a bit of snow had accumulated overnight. Joo-young placed the document envelope on top of a snow-covered jar. It seemed like a nice touch to add an air of mystery to the prophecy letter of the century.
Back in his room, Joo-young spread out the bedding and lay down. It seemed he had done everything he needed to do during this time rewind. He felt a little sorry about it, but his mother would carry out the prophecy's instructions with the forceful drive of a formidable woman. If that happened, his two daughters would be born safely, and he and his wife could become strangers before Joo-young, then in his early thirties, signed the notarized agreement. Yes. That would do it. That was the right thing to do... Joo-young forced himself to feel relieved and closed his eyes.
Perhaps he had briefly fallen asleep in reality too, because when he opened his eyes, dawn was brightening the view outside the hospital room window. He shifted his gaze to the bed and saw his wife lying there. What happened? Had they not gotten divorced? Had she gotten cancer even though they had divorced? In that brief moment, every possible thought flashed through his mind, leaving him confused, when—
“Water... Some water...”
His wife was asking for water. Joo-young hurriedly got up, poured water into a cup, supported the woman's head, and held the cup to her lips. After taking a sip, the patient looked up at Joo-young and spoke.
“Who... are you?”
It wasn't his wife. She was another woman around the same age and with a similar build. Without saying a word, Joo-young tilted the cup and let her take another sip, then carefully lowered her head. After bowing politely to the patient, he left the hospital room.
On the bus home, he checked the contacts on his phone and found both of his daughters' names. It seemed clear that both girls had been born safely. His wife wasn't in the list. So they must have gotten divorced... But even if they had, shouldn't he at least have her contact information? She was the girls' mother, after all. Surely something else hadn't gone wrong, had it? He wanted to call the girls and subtly sound them out, but it was still far too early.
He returned to his tiny studio with a three-million-won deposit and 300,000-won rent, cooked and ate, showered, and spent some time waiting before finally calling his older daughter, who lived with his wife. His younger daughter had moved out and was living on her own.
“Hey, it's Dad~ ...I was just wondering... You and Mom are both doing okay, right?”
“Huh~? Asking if we're doing okay?”
Her tone made it sound like he was saying something ridiculous. Was something wrong? Cancer again? Or could it be that she was already...?
“Dad, we all met and had dinner the day before yesterday. Why are you suddenly asking if something's wrong?”
“Oh~, right, we did. I just... I don't think I properly asked how everyone was that day... Anyway, you and Mom are getting along fine, right? Neither of you is sick or anything?”
“Yeah~, we're doing fine.”
Only then did Joo-young finally feel relieved. It seemed certain that his wife had avoided getting cancer. But why had they all had dinner together the day before yesterday? The day before yesterday... The day before yesterday? Could it have been their wedding anniversary?
“Um, but... so... are you saying that Mom and Dad met because it was their wedding anniversary the day before yesterday?”
“Yeah~. Even if you live separately, you're still legally married. Your kids should celebrate your wedding anniversary with you.”
Still married~?! They hadn't gotten divorced~? His thoughts twisted and churned like laundry in a washing machine when—thud, thud, thud—someone knocked on the door of his studio. No one was supposed to come looking for him at a tiny studio with no doorbell and a three-million-won deposit and 300,000-won rent. He tried to ignore it and continue talking to his daughter, but—
“Then, what you're saying is... Mom and Dad are still...”
Bang, bang, bang—the knocking grew more forceful, accompanied by someone calling Joo-young's name. The voice was familiar.
“Hey, someone came by... Let's hang up for now. Yeah, okay.”
Once again, a powerful and unsettling wave of emotion swept over him. Joo-young opened the door to his studio. Then he made the expression of someone who had just seen his dead mother come back to life.
“Uh... Mom...?”