Chapter 2
A Stubborn Child is Looking for Their Dad
“Ugh… why is it so hot today?”
That day.
Astie—no, Tien—was lying flat on the floor, fanning herself with the breeze from the fan that the grandmother from room 107 had sent.
Her eyes squinting together, watching her bangs sway lightly, when suddenly the lady from room 203 entered through the front door.
“Oh, hi… I think something serious might have happened…”
Normally, this lady would have immediately swooped in to hold Tien, saying how cute she was.
But this time, as she quickly averted her gaze from Tien, Tien tilted her head in confusion.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“It’s not that…”
Again, the lady stole a glance at Tien before looking away.
Tien’s gaze naturally drifted to the envelope the lady was holding.
The woman from 203 gripped the crumpled paper bag tightly, as if it were a leash for a dog she couldn’t let go.
“You better not be up to anything. Always making such a fuss and scaring the kid…”
But when the envelope was opened, the grandmother from 107 fell silent.
Sweat beaded on Tien’s forehead where the breeze from the fan no longer reached.
The small room was silent, save for the sound of cicadas chirping outside.
“…What am I going to do…”
The grandmother, suddenly turning around, pulled Tien into her arms.
“What am I going to do! What should I do!”
And then she began to cry, her sobs filling the room.
Tien blinked, wrapped in the grandmother’s embrace.
Even the lady from 203 sniffled quietly.
Although confused, Tien quickly realized that something was terribly wrong.
According to Article 12, Paragraph 1 of the Funeral Services Act, the body of an unclaimed deceased person will be handled, and the remains have been made public as follows. Relatives are requested to claim the enshrined ashes.
That day marked the tenth day since her father had not returned home.
“Funeral…?”
What did that mean?
After the grandmother and the lady hurriedly left, Tien was left alone, staring at the paper.
It was filled with difficult, formal words.
But there was one word she understood.
“…Deceased… means someone who’s dead.”
A sudden fear gripped her, and Tien carefully set the paper aside.
Fidgeting with her fingers, her eyes landed on the TaniPang sticker book that Seul-hee had given her at kindergarten.
Seul-hee had used almost all the stickers, but Tien’s favorite, the TonaPang stickers, remained.
“Binna will show magic~ Catch catch…”
Humming the TaniPang theme, Tien carefully peeled off a TonaPang sticker.
Then she left room 107, went into room 106, and retrieved the flyers her father had collected.
Tien carefully wrote on the blank back of one flyer with a marker:
[Please let Dad come home.]
No one in her class could write as neatly as Tien.
She didn’t forget to press a TonaPang sticker firmly after the period.
“Dad…”
Her father, who always said strange things.
Who claimed he came from the empire of Talrochium and that Tien’s hometown was there too.
He said he had been a tremendously powerful paladin in that world.
Every day he punished monsters and villains and was the most respected hero.
Tien shook her head.
Of course, she had believed that story until she was about three.
Her heart would pound at how cool her dad seemed, and she sometimes couldn’t sleep past nine o’clock because of it.
But Tien was now four.
Old enough to understand everything.
‘The strongest paladin everyone admires must be rich,’ she thought.
But she and her dad weren’t rich.
In fact, they were poor.
Tien could tell by the fact that while her friends went on summer vacations every year, she and her dad had never gone anywhere.
Her father hardly ever took days off.
Weekends, Children’s Day, Hangul Day, Christmas—all were workdays.
When Tien asked why he worked so much, the adults in the Gold Apartments explained it was because his work “didn’t make much money for the effort.”
It was a difficult concept, but Tien understood vaguely: no matter how hard her dad worked, he couldn’t earn enough to buy her a new TaniPang sticker book.
Even so, Tien was fine.
Her dad was a hundred, no, a thousand times more important than any sticker book.
She always thought her hardworking dad was amazing and was grateful for him.
‘There’s always a reason,’ she thought.
‘Look at the guy in 106. Why would he struggle at his age with that handsome face? It’s for the kid, so she doesn’t get taken away.’
‘But that’s weird. Even illegal immigrants just need a visa, right? Tien’s four; it’s about time for a birth registration…’
‘Tien can’t even be registered! And now if we try, the city office would never allow it! Illegal immigrant—think of the fines. And then Tien could even be deported. 106 would go to prison here. How is that fair?’
‘Never mind. I’ve checked on the kindergarten principal. Luckily a good person, otherwise insisting they wouldn’t take Tien would ruin her quickly.’
‘Tien was always smart, she’d probably be fine. I’ve never seen a kid like her—she learned to read and write almost entirely on her own! By the way, the 106 guy still hasn’t said which country he’s from?’
Even though she overheard a lot of adult chatter, Tien was happy living with her dad.
“…Sniff.”
A drop of mucus fell on the scrap paper, and Tien held her breath.
Tears were quietly rolling down her cheeks.
“Sniffle.”
Feeling down, Tien buried her face in her hands.
Her dad needed to come home quickly.
“Daaad…”
The word deceased kept swirling in her mind.
She curled up, closing her eyes tight, repeating to herself:
It can’t be… the word deceased doesn’t mean Dad…
And eventually, she fell asleep.
When she woke, darkness had fallen.
Grandmother from 107 returned late at night, soaked from the rain.
In her hands was a paper box, water-stained in places.
Tien stared, mouth agape, as she opened it.
‘Dad would live a long time with Tien. Someday, we’d go back to our hometown and laugh in a bigger, cleaner home.’
‘Even used the TonaPang stickers…’
It wasn’t Dad who had arrived.
Tien stared at the three words written on the box: “memorial box.”
She knew what it meant.
She had seen the word in a drama before.
It meant… that he wouldn’t live long, wouldn’t return to his hometown, and wouldn’t make her laugh.
He had left her behind.
Finally.
Late at night.
Ignoring the snoring from grandmother in 107, Tien sneaked out of her room.
She tiptoed into room 106, where she had lived with her dad.
At the far side of the room, she saw the memorial box her grandmother had placed on the drawer.
Climbing onto the drawer, Tien opened the lid.
“….”
Inside were her dad’s usual hat, a few keys, and his wallet, neatly placed.
As she tilted the box to see better, something clattered to the bottom.
A necklace with a broken chain.
‘Dad’s…’
Without thinking, Tien picked it up.
It was a necklace her dad always carried in his pocket, something she had never seen closely before.
She held the stone in her hand, removing the broken chain, and felt a heaviness in her throat.
The stone seemed to carry her dad’s warmth.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
Thump—
Suddenly, the ceiling trembled.
Startled, she looked up, feeling vibrations through the floor.
Thump—!
Backing away, a bright light appeared before her eyes.
[Why are you crying?]
Tien blinked, mouth agape.
The stone floated in the air, glowing at the edges.
“The… the stone… it’s speaking…”
At that moment, something popped up from the stone.
A small black head, about the size of an adult fist.
Tien watched in shock as ruby-like eyes, a nose, mouth, and ears formed on the stone.
[Why are you crying?]
Hearing the second question, she snapped to attention.
Cautiously, she gathered her courage to speak.
“T-Tien… Dad…”
[I understand.]
Before she could hear the next words, the stone sprouted arms, legs, a tail, and wings, interrupting her.
It licked its small paw a few times and spoke:
[That man… he’s dead, isn’t he?]
Tien’s pupils trembled.
“…Dad… my dad…”
[Should I bring him back to life?]
Before she could respond…
The stone, staring intently at her, shook its head and said again:
[Your dad… if I bring him back, will you stop crying?]
