The two white lines on the white band around Jihoon's arm indicate he was the family of the deceased. He stared at them as he accepted the bows of his grandmother's doctors, who had come to pay their respects.
Grandma's funeral took place in the hospital's jangryesikjang. It was filled with rooms for viewings and memorials, a hallway where every door led to death and grief.
Rooms down the hall hosted funerals of other patients. Some had dozens of wreaths lining the entrance, as if showing the social status of the deceased.
Jihoon stood in a daze beside the portrait of his halmeoni that sat on a table among chrysanthemums and incense. He watched the bows of mourning from each visitor.
"We bow once to the living, twice to the dead," his grandmother had always told him at his grandfather's grave. Jihoon's grandfather had died before he was born, so greeting his grave had felt natural. But now, each time a mourner bowed a second time to his halmeoni, Jihoon's heart skipped a beat.
He barely noticed the people who came through to greet him, to eat the funeral food at the tables adjoining the memorial room, to offer condolence money.
His father stood beside him, greeting each mourner with a demure nod.
He tried to keep up appearances, showing that he was a good, dutiful grandson, even as he knew he'd failed his grandmother. Everything he'd done made her suffer. He refused to be a good student despite her pleas. He went to the PC room after school instead of coming home to help at the restaurant. And she got hurt because of him. She'd given her soul to help him. And now she was gone. Because of him.
He glanced at Shane, who bustled between the tables of mourners eating the memorial food, clearing dishes and handing out soup. Having Shane here comforted him, but he didn't know if he deserved it. His grandmother was dead because of them.
Maybe if he'd swallowed his pride and called Shane back, then he would have told him about the soul. Maybe if Shane hadn't lied and run away, this could have all been solved. Maybe if Shane had let him die like Jihoon was supposed to, his halmeoni would still be alive.
So many maybes and none of them worth dwelling on, because the fact was his grandma was dead and he wasn't. And he wished with all of his heart that it was the other way around.
***
Shane served food to the mourners. It was polite for them to eat some before they left—rice, soup, and banchan. He carried around a tray to collect the empty dishes. It was all he could think to do. Even Minjae, who served alongside Shane, didn't protest his help.
Beside Jihoon,his father's pale face was drawn. He greeted all of the visitors while standing beside Jihoon, whose eyes were aimed straight ahead, not looking at his father and not truly focusing on any of the guests. A boy with nothing left he wanted to see.
It was enough to bring tears, but Shane held them back. This was no place for his grief.
After everyone left, Shane sat awhile, watching Jihoon and his father in the receiving room, unmoving statues. Jihoon looked like a supplicant in a church, head bowed, soshe could see only the dark crown of his head.
"You can go now," Jihoon said.
His father didn't respond, his expression calm.
"I said you can go." Jihoon's voice echoed in the empty room.
His father didn't reply.
Jihoon finally looked up. "Are you not listening to me?"
"She was Kaori's mother." It came out quiet, but firm.
"Since when do you act like a dutiful son in law?" Jihoon asked.
"Were you acknowledging your ex wife's when you let her work her joints raw to take care of me? Or were you being a filial son in law when you left her to rot in the hospital?"
"Jihoon-ah." Shane grabbed his arm. "Stop it."
Jihoon shook him off.
"Tell me," he said. "Tell me when you cared about her."
Jihoon's father finally faced him, his expression cool as a still lake.
"Kaori's mother was just like my own mother. We had a bond long before you were born. You do not know how I have held her in my heart."
"You speak of her as if she died months ago. She didn't. She's been alive this whole time. She still could be if you—" Jihoon's words cut off, his breathing heavy. Shane Laid a hand on his arm.
"I'd like to speak to my father alone," Jihoon said, his face deceptively calm.
Shane's need to respect Jihoon's wants warred with his desire to comfort him. In the end, Shane stepped out of the room. He hoped she was doing the right thing.
***
"Grandma took me to be exorcised once," Jihoon began conversationally.
His father stared at him in surprise.
"She thought there was an evil spirit inside me, because after you left I wouldn't eat or sleep. She didn't realize it was because I was doing an exorcism of my own. I was extracting you.
"But I was so caught up in how you made me feel that I never wondered if it affected grandma." His words became thick in his throat, but he still pushed them out. "She supported me and worried about me. And I didn't do anything but punish her for it by never living up to what she wanted for me, just like you."
His anger clogged his chest, and he gasped to pull in air. It felt like he was breathing mud. Leaning over, he tried to clear his throat. A fog rolled over his vision.
"Jihoon!" his father shouted. "Jihoon-ah, answer me."
Jihoon couldn't, not even to tell his father to leave him alone. He toppled over as his trembling legs gave out.
"Someone call a doctor. Help! My son can't breathe!"
And with his father;s cries ringing in his head, Jihoon passed out.