Chapter 19: Don’t Leave Me?

Cha Seung-gyu.

According to Wiki, he’s a third-term National Assembly member of the ruling party who, unusually for a politician, entered politics at a very young age and has followed a strictly elite path.

He enjoys high approval ratings, enough to be elected three times in Seoul, not even a stronghold of the ruling party’s support base… or so it says.

“…..”

…Is that true? Probably true, right?

Does it matter whether it’s true or not? What matters is that the daughter of that third-term National Assembly member is groveling in front of me.

In conclusion, I… was dating my direct superior, who is also a National Assembly member’s daughter?

“Crazy…”

Thank goodness we were in a car. Thank goodness I was dumped, not the other way around.

If I had dumped her first… I don’t even want to imagine what would have happened.

“…Ah, I, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that Team Leader was crazy.”

“I know. I also know you’re not talking about my father.”

There are three types of people I want to avoid getting involved with the most in this world.

The chaebol, the politician, and the celebrity.

Among them, the rarest case, unless they’re campaigning, is the politician. And the most troublesome case is also the politician.

“Not that it’s something to brag about, but I hear he’s got a pretty good reputation as a politician. They say he’s a down-to-earth politician who understands the hearts of the common people.”

“Someone who’s never taken a city bus in his life is down-to-earth.” Her following words contained a subtle sneer.

Who was that sneer directed at? Her own father, who lives a life far removed from the common people but pretends to be one of them? Or the masses who naively believe her father’s lies?

“I don’t know if I have the right to laugh at someone who does their job well, though.”

Or was it directed at herself, for looking down on them?

“Still, the fact that he has high public approval ratings… doesn’t that mean he’s doing a good job?”

“Yes, I suppose so. It’s hard for a politician to be seen as kind and friendly to the people.”

As a politician, Cha Seung-gyu, Team Leader’s father, is considered to be on the better side. It’s not that there aren’t any bad rumors, but in this country where distrust of politicians is strong, it’s rare for a politician with a weak support base to have such a good image.

“I wish he was like that at home.”

“…..”

But he wasn’t a good father, it seems. At least, not to her.

“Are you… not on good terms with your father?”

“Neither good nor bad. I guess you could say we’re indifferent to each other.”

That’s not good.

“…Is that not good?”

She knows it well.

――

Why did these people get married, and why did they have me?

That’s what I always thought when I looked at my parents. What reason did people who had no affection for each other have to get married and even have a child?

In the year I turned twenty, I found the answer to that question.

And sometimes, I think it might have been better to remain curious without an answer forever.

Necessity.

They needed each other.

My father, who was working as a lawyer and dreaming of entering politics, needed a sponsor, and my mother, who was tired of hearing her patriarchal grandfather tell her to get married, needed a spouse who was smart and reputable enough to satisfy him.

So they got married. Thoroughly, calculating each other’s gains and losses.

My parents’ relationship… I think it’s pretty good, contrary to what I said earlier.

In the first place, they met because their goals aligned, and they achieved those goals satisfactorily, so there’s no reason for their relationship to be bad.

However, whether that’s not bad from the perspective of an ordinary couple… I probably don’t think so.

Their relationship is strictly that of business partners. A win-win relationship where each benefits the other, and therefore a good relationship.

There’s no emotion called love between them. Considering their personalities, they probably didn’t want such trivial emotions to get involved.

That’s why they became well-matched partners, and they’ve maintained that smooth relationship ever since.

One has the backing of a large corporation owner’s family, and the other has the title of a third-term National Assembly member. They don’t want anything more or less, and they’re polite and gentlemanly.

That attitude of theirs was no exception, even for the child born between them.

“There’s something I’ve often heard from my parents since I was young. Don’t tarnish your parents’ reputation.”

They treated each other like trophies displayed in their home’s cabinet, and they demanded the same of their child.

“Don’t become a child who’s embarrassing to mention anywhere.”

My parents didn’t want me to be a disappointment. But they didn’t want me to surpass them either.

There’s no need to be a better child than your parents. But don’t be a bad child.

That was my parents’ wish. They weren’t interested in the future, so just accumulate enough specs to be able to brag about anywhere.

Pin medals on your chest. Pin lots of shiny, clattering medals. Like trophies.

“Until I became independent, I followed everything they said to the letter. Because I heard so often that they wouldn’t even treat me like their child if I didn’t.”

My grades in elementary, middle, and high school were always at the top of the class, and I entered and graduated from university as the valedictorian. Of course, I never missed being the top student in my department for all four years.

All sorts of trophies, medals, citations, and awards piled up at home, and my parents were satisfied every time they saw the [medals] I had won.

“There was no guarantee that I would be loved for being obedient, though.”

The final destination of those medals wasn’t the cabinet or the storage box, but a corner of the warehouse somewhere in the house.

It’s funny. To want love from people who don’t love each other.

Like rusty trophies, like rotten citations. In the end, I was just a meaningless existence to them, something to be briefly proud of and then forgotten.

“I think it was in the third grade of elementary school that I made a mistake once.”

I didn’t want to drink the milk I received before the first class started, so I put it in my school bag, and it burst, ruining the contents and making the bag smell.

“At that time, my father told me about the nuisance my mistake had caused to the people around me and the embarrassment my mother and he felt as a result.”

My father didn’t get angry at me, who had returned anxiously hugging the milk-smelling bag, nor did he use violence or swear words. He just scolded me in his usual gentlemanly manner.

“For two hours straight.”

That was a bit long.

“That was the first time I realized that my father was a person who could talk for so long.”

Perhaps even if I combined all the conversations I’ve had with my father in my life, it wouldn’t be longer than that.

“A person who never praised me once, whether I brought home a citation or a trophy.”

I never thought it would be impossible to hear a single word of praise from my parents, of all people.

“….In a way, like father, like daughter. My personality, my way of speaking, my actions, I learned them all from him.”

My father was my mentor in life. Whether he was a good mentor is another matter.

The eloquence to make people realize their mistakes without getting angry, and the habit of not uttering a single word of praise, were all passed down from my father.

My father is that kind of person. A person who doesn’t know how to love.

Even if he knew, a person who wouldn’t have loved.

And that was the same for my mother.

“Depending on the case… there may be people who consider these parents to be good parents.”

To someone born in a desperately poor family, or to someone born under abusive parents who resort to violence at the drop of a hat, my words might just sound like the idle chatter of someone who has it easy.

“I don’t think that’s completely wrong. My parents gave me money instead of affection.”

If there’s one positive thing about my parents, it’s that they at least didn’t skimp on the time and effort to cultivate their trophy.

That time and effort were all money, but wouldn’t it be hypocritical to bring up these words in front of people who don’t have money?

“It’s ridiculous. I’ve benefited from my parents in every way, and now I’m cursing them.”

It was my parents’ money that made me who I am today. It’s thanks to money that I was buried in a tomb of trophies and citations, and it’s thanks to money that I can live without worrying about money at a young age.

“Still… I…”

But what if I didn’t have that money?

“I wanted parents who would take me to the hospital themselves, checking to see how much it hurt, rather than parents who would throw a card at their sick child and tell them to go to the hospital.”

I wish I had love, even if I didn’t have money.

“….”

When I turned my head, I saw his face looking at me.

Eyes filled with sorrow and a twisted corner of his lips, a gaze that didn’t leave me, even though he was confused and didn’t know what to do with my sudden confession of family history.

If it were the usual me, I wouldn’t have wanted such a pitying gaze.

I would have been more comfortable and familiar with a situation where I aroused animosity rather than being pitied by someone.

But why, is it because the person sending that pitying gaze is him?

Right now, it’s not so bad.

“…..Hanbyeol.”

So I decided to be a little greedy.

“Could I… ask you for one thing?”

I know it’s a petty and cowardly trick.

“Just for today…”

While suppressing the guilt that still stabs at one side of my chest and the self-loathing that crawls up.

“Just for today… will you stay here with me?”

I spat out a terrible desire.