Chapter 100
“…Ah-bba.”
“Yes. It’s your dad.”
It wasn’t an illusion — it was real.
I pressed my trembling hands down to steady myself.
What if this wasn’t a perfect recovery of memory?
If I’m the only one who gets emotional again, I’ll be the only one hurt — again.
I bit my lip and asked, trying to keep my expression neutral by glaring instead.
“Do you… remember Mom’s name now?”
“How could I not?”
My father murmured softly as he held me close. His voice was damp and thick.
“Baek Arin.”
A voice filled with grief and deep affection.
“A name I’ll love for the rest of my life — until I die. Along with you.”
And then—tears poured down my face like rain.
I should’ve been happy, so why did the tears feel so sorrowful?
‘When you think of me, call me Father.’
He had said that once, but I’d thought that day would never come.
I knew my father’s condition better than anyone. I’d already accepted that even in this world, I wouldn’t have parents.
I tried to stay calm.
‘I won’t acknowledge it until Dad remembers everything.’
I drew my own line, tried to convince myself it was fine.
Because it would never happen.
Because it couldn’t happen…
My soft crying slowly turned into uncontrollable sobs.
And then, finally, I admitted it—
I was happy. Truly happy.
In that moment, I’d gained the thing I’d wished for all my life.
I didn’t want to cry anymore. I wanted to see my dad through clear eyes, not through tears.
The dad who remembered me — and remembered Mom.
I wiped my tears away with my small hands, as bravely as I could.
Then I smiled — bright and pretty as I could manage, though my face must’ve been a mess.
Because it was the first time I was calling this name for real.
“Dad.”
“…”
“Dad…”
“…”
Sniff. “Dad… I have a dad too.”
A large, warm hand pulled me into a tight hug.
It was a huge, comforting embrace — as if he’d never let go again.
“…Yes. I’m your dad.”
I knew this would happen.
“…Stop crying.”
I cried so much my eyes swelled shut.
Even when I bawled in the clinic before, it hadn’t been this bad.
Is it possible to cry more over joy than sadness?
But… a miracle happened.
As someone who had once diagnosed him, I knew — for my father to regain all his memories by himself had been impossible.
Should I diagnose him again?
I shook my head. No. Not now… later.
Right now, I just wanted to enjoy this miracle and happiness a little longer.
It felt like a hundred butterflies were fluttering in my chest.
“Dad, do you really… remember everything?”
I looked up, sniffling. My dad’s face wore a faint smile.
“Yes.”
Ah. So it wasn’t a dream. His gentle gaze made my fingertips tingle.
“I’m still a bit confused… but I’m accepting that it all came back suddenly.”
“Since when?”
“Well…”
Was it Sylvester who triggered it somehow? If that was true, I’d have to thank him later.
I scrubbed at my eyes with my sleeve until Dad caught my hand to stop me.
We talked about everything.
“Really? It was that amazing?”
“That you were such a crybaby? Everyone in the family probably knew.”
Every story from him was fascinating — more precious than anything in the world.
“Your uncle used to say he’d never marry someone like that woman. But in the end, he did — she’s your aunt now.”
“No waaay! That’s so funny!”
Who knew my father had so many stories, or that he could talk this much?
But more than that, I just loved this moment.
“Your mom — Arin — wanted to use the name ‘Nabi’ when she worked as a doctor.”
“Was Mom… really that amazing?”
“Of everyone I’ve met, she was the best.”
“Better than me?”
“…”
He looked troubled, then chuckled softly.
“She loved butterflies. When she was pregnant with you, she called you her ‘little butterfly.’”
So that was what Mom called me before I was born.
I didn’t dare ask about her death or her ashes.
I’d find out someday. But right now, I was terrified that asking might change him.
We talked until evening — through dinner and late into the night.
Later, a servant came from the main house.
“Doctor Heukbiyu, the head of the family requests your presence tomorrow.”
The servant’s respectful tone almost made me laugh.
But I didn’t mind. Today, Dad had remembered me. And tomorrow, I’d get rewarded by the head of the house.
Everything felt perfect — my heart was so light and warm.
When night deepened, we finally lay down together under one blanket — for the first time ever.
“Dad, your blanket’s softer than mine.”
“I’ll change it tomorrow. No — we’ll buy new ones.”
“Huh?”
“This house is too old. I’ll have it renovated immediately. With money, workers will come fast.”
“Whaaat?”
I had to calm him down before he got too carried away.
We couldn’t just remodel with all the herbs and supplies here!
Dad turned toward me and, a bit awkwardly, patted my belly.
“When you were a newborn, I didn’t know how hard I could touch. I was scared I’d hurt you.”
“…I saw that memory. Your hands were shaking like this—”
“A pitiful sight, huh.”
Ah, so he admits it! I giggled softly.
After a quiet pause, I gathered my courage to ask in the dark.
“You… remember Mom’s death too, don’t you?”
Maybe it was because I remembered him strangling Sylvester in despair, unable to accept her death.
Even though I told myself not to ask — it slipped out anyway.
“…I remember.”
“…”
“I also know she wouldn’t have wanted me to distort what happened.”
His patting slowed. I thought… maybe Dad was crying.
When a drop hit my cheek, I pretended not to notice.
“…I have to look forward. I have a daughter now. That’s what she would’ve wanted.”
“…”
“She wished for our happiness — until the very end.”
Hey, Mom… how did you die?
I wanted to ask, but it felt too cruel. Maybe later.
I should’ve asked anyway.
“…We’ll get her ashes back, right?”
“…We will. I’ll tell you soon. Maybe… tomorrow.”
“It’s okay. Tell me when you’re ready.”
I should’ve asked.
But I didn’t know I’d regret it.
Dad pulled me tightly into his arms.
“I don’t think I ever said this properly before. I’ve always wanted to.”
“…”
“‘I love you, my daughter.’”
Silence — then a soft laugh in the darkness.
“Your mom used to say that all the time. And I feel the same.”
Maybe today was my real birthday — because everything I’d ever wished for came true.
“Mmm…”
I was too embarrassed to say it back, but I felt the same.
‘I don’t want to go home anymore.’
That’s my way of saying “I love you,” Dad — though you probably don’t know it.
Tomorrow, I’ll tell you.
Tomorrow, we’ll visit Uncle and Great-Uncle together.
I’ll brag that Dad got all his memories back!
And I’ll heal them too, so they’ll praise me!
‘Should I even call Great-Uncle “Big Uncle” like he wants?’
Just thinking about it made me smile.
I’ll go with Dad to the main house and show everyone.
Ah, will Dad be embarrassed?
It’s okay — even if only I know.
Because he’s really my dad now.
Tomorrow, I’ll ask where Mom is buried. And if that herb room used to be hers.
‘I’m glad Dad didn’t just love Mom — he loved me too.’
It felt like cotton candy blooming in my heart. Soft and fluffy.
I could die happy now.
No, not yet — I have to heal Uncle and Great-Uncle and live happily first!
I smiled brightly at Dad.
“Good night, Dad. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
…I shouldn’t have said that.
Maybe then, that day wouldn’t have ended.
Right, Biyu?
Why is regret always too late — even when it comes early?
Next Morning
I woke up early.
Wow, I feel amazing!
Birds were chirping outside. Maybe it was because I’d cried so hard last night — I felt refreshed.
My eyes stung a little, but my mood was perfect.
I didn’t even do my swelling treatment because I wanted Dad to see me pouty…
Childish, maybe — but so what? I am a child right now.
I covered my mouth and giggled. The spot beside me was empty.
Did he go make breakfast?
Dad sometimes woke up early, so I wasn’t worried.
But when I checked the kitchen, he wasn’t there either.
I glanced at Raon and Baem-Baem sleeping soundly, then stepped outside.
I think I know where he is.
My steps were light and bouncy.
Today, I’ll give Dad a checkup.
I decided last night — it’ll be fine. Nothing will change.
I pressed down the tiny unease in my chest.
If I had to explain it later, I guess I’d say — I chose happiness over a doctor’s intuition.
My past life had been full of pain and hardship.
Just this once, I wanted to ignore everything and be happy.
I didn’t realize how cruel the price of denial could be.
I arrived at the garden — the one with the big tree where we’d sat yesterday.
A gentle morning breeze brushed past. Beneath it, I saw a broad back.
Sensing me, Dad slowly turned his head.
I smiled and ran toward him—
—or tried to.
“…Ah.”
If only he hadn’t said—
“Who are you?”
