“Something’s happened between you two, hasn’t it?” Ji-woo raised the cup of coffee to her mouth.
Lately, Ji-woo was always lost in thought, and Seo Tae-joon, for his part, had eyes for no one else. Mi-sook was certain of it.
“What?” Ji-woo asked, her hands trembling slightly around the warm cup.
Mi-sook’s eyes narrowed. “Did you sleep with him?”
“What?”
“Was he any good?”
“Mi-sook!”
“Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Mi-sook laughed, a teasing smile playing on her lips as Ji-woo fanned her blushing cheeks.
Ji-woo was only seventeen when her parents ran away, only to meet their deaths on the same day. Mi-sook had met the girl at their funeral. She’d been a skinny, pale thing with long black hair, looking more like a ghost than a mourner.
Her father’s funeral was held in the room on the left, her mother’s on the right. The girl stood lost in the space between them. In the end, she simply lowered her head, frozen in place while the townspeople who came to pay their respects offered only frowns in her direction.
At the time, Mi-sook had just reunited with the love of her life. She saw the girl standing alone, learning that one of the deceased was a distant relative of her fiancé. While helping with the arrangements, Mi-sook watched Ji-woo stand there numb and still, as if she couldn't feel a thing.
Like a dead tree.
No one went near her, no one spoke to her. Only the grieving family spared her any attention, and their gazes were murderous.
They looked at her as if, given the chance, they would have taken an axe to that dead tree and chopped it down. It was a bizarre, chilling sight.
But Mi-sook saw it clearly then: no matter how much they despised her, Ji-woo was the one holding that family together.
It was a family united not by love, but by their shared hatred for her.
Mi-sook understood. A child who grew up in a family like that would never learn to trust. Ji-woo was so young, yet her eyes held a weariness that spoke of utter despair.
Even then, Mi-sook had been mesmerized by her. After being kicked out of her family’s home, Ji-woo was passed between the households of distant relatives. Finally, Mi-sook asked the poor girl to come live with her and her lover. For a while, the three of them were happy. Until Mi-sook’s fiancé, the poet, died of cancer.
He was the first and last man Mi-sook ever gave her heart to. But Ji-woo had seen her live in love. Now, Mi-sook wanted the same for her. She wanted to see Ji-woo surrounded by it.
“Ji-woo.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t be afraid.”
Ji-woo stared at her.
“I know you grew up without much love or happiness, but you’re strong.” Sometimes, Mi-sook couldn’t tell if Ji-woo was strong or simply foolish, frugal or just hopeless. But more than anything, Mi-sook wanted her to desire something for herself, just once. She wanted Ji-woo to take a chance on people.
May she find the home she’s searching for, Mi-sook prayed. Not Cheongdo, not the hospital, but a real home.
“Love can feel like a natural disaster, destroying everything in its path,” Mi-sook said softly. “But it doesn’t have to end the way it did for your parents.”
Ji-woo’s face darkened at the mention of them.
“You already know the joy of love.”
“What?”
“The singing tree?”
Ji-woo’s eyes widened.
The little girl who had walled herself off from the world had slowly begun to heal. In the lush greenery, away from people, she had felt welcomed.
“Ji-woo, what are you thinking about?”
“Trees.”
Seo Tae-joon raised an eyebrow at her answer.
The celebration had been days ago, but Mi-sook was still scolding her for leaving early. Otherwise, this day was no different from any other.
『Recently, illegal harvesting of forest products such as matsutake mushrooms, pine nuts, wild medicinal herbs, and wild ginseng has been on the rise.』
The news anchor’s voice filled the living room. Ji-woo hadn’t been herself since the party. She kept drifting off, staring blankly into space.
『Their methods have become more sophisticated, and they have begun to move in organized groups to avoid crackdowns. We have a report from Hwang Ji-yeon…』
The TV clicked off, the screen flaring with static. Only then was she wrenched back to the present. Confused, Ji-woo turned and met Seo Tae-joon’s eyes. He was watching her, his chin propped on his palm.
“Why did you turn off the TV?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I wanted some attention,” Seo Tae-joon said, his eyes a little too bright, a smile playing on his lips. It sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned closer. “What do I have to do to get you to look at me? Should I bite your shoes and bark like a dog?”
“You’re always leaving me behind,” he said. “You seem more lost in your own world than ever these days. What are you thinking about so hard?”
“I… um…” Ji-woo mumbled, scratching her head. “I was thinking about a… tree.” It wasn’t a lie.
A singing tree…
Mi-sook had unearthed a precious memory, one Ji-woo had all but forgotten. She never expected her past to surface like this.
“A tree…” Seo Tae-joon’s frown deepened. “My wife is daydreaming about thick trees, and can’t spare a single glance for her husband’s dick?”
“It’s not like that!” Ji-woo protested.