Divorce Contract C113

Chapter 113

As Seo Dohyeon had foreseen, Kang Mijin’s life grew harsher and more grueling by the day. From dawn building-cleaning to assisting in a snack shop kitchen, to washing greasy dishes at a barbecue restaurant, she worked endlessly from morning to night. Yet no matter how much money she scraped together, the debt never shrank. Behind the kitchen, scrubbing soot-blackened grills, she ground curses between her teeth. That damned man. A parasite his entire life, and in the end he shackled her ankles like this. She should never have listened to Go Daesik. It had been foolish to flutter her ears at his scheme to profit off the child Go Igyeol bore.

He could at least have run the factory he’d wrung dry from Igyeol’s blood and tears. If he had, she would not now be living like this. If only she had stopped him from wasting himself on golf lessons far beyond their station, or if he had simply delivered the supplies Dohyeon had secured him, things might have turned out differently.

“Crazy bastard.”

She never imagined that a few idle games of cards in a roadside gambling den would turn into this: an addiction so consuming he abandoned even his family. Just when life seemed to show a sliver of light, they were thrown into the gutter, mired in endless debt.

“Serves you right, Kang Mijin.”

She spat at herself. She didn’t even know where Go Daesik had disappeared. It was only when loan sharks burst in demanding repayment in his place that she realized where he had ended up—behind bars. With no means to pay, even her children dropped out of school and took up part-time jobs to repay the debts he’d amassed. How much had he squandered on gambling? If he stood before her now, she would strangle him with her own hands.

Scrubbing more than a hundred grills by hand each day, she dragged herself home near midnight, slept scarcely three hours, then woke at dawn to repeat it all. After nearly a month, she realized she could not go on.

“I have to find him fast. Somehow, I must find him. It’s the only way we survive.”

She begged leave from work and made her way blindly to the hospital where she had once met Go Igyeol. Loitering outside, pretending to wait for a coincidence like before, she lingered until dusk without sight of him. When at last she asked the administration whether he had been discharged, they repeated only the same refrain: they could not share personal information.

After waiting long and in vain, she concluded she would never see him there again. She turned her steps toward his former marital home. She did not know his new address, but at least she could try the old one. After two buses and a long climb up a steep hill, she reached the detached house. Its tall walls hid whether the lights were on or off.

Suspicious in her shabby attire, she loitered at the gates until the police, called by neighbors, arrived. She was only released after explaining herself at length. Humiliation and rage boiled together until she could no longer think straight. The thought struck her suddenly: all of this was Go Igyeol’s fault. As she walked downhill, biting her nails, she realized it was certain—at this rate she and her children would die under their debts. He had destroyed her family’s future, scattered them, and left them ruined, while he himself surely sat in warmth, living richly with his baby, basking in golden days.

He must have received plenty in alimony from the divorce. Was this not the time to think of his family and help them? And yet—not a single call.

That he had cut ties so completely to live well alone infuriated her. But right now, she needed his help. She had to find him quickly and wheedle him. He wasn’t truly heartless. He had always been weak to pleas. If she moaned of hardship, he would surely, as before, fill their pockets.

“But something’s strange…”

She had even begged the loan sharks, telling them there was another son who could repay the debt if they would only find him. But they ignored her, deaf. That would have been the swiftest way to recover their money. Surely Dohyeon had interfered somehow.

She rushed downhill to the bus stop, her eyes darting. Clearly, she could not rely on the loan sharks to find Igyeol. Searching her phone, she pulled strings among her acquaintances and was introduced to a detective agency notorious for finding people.

The retainer fee weighed on her, but she had no other choice. The balance and success fee could be covered later—once Igyeol was found, she would wring it from him. Receiving the contract copy and the address by message, she rose, her steps suddenly lighter. Boarding the bus, she clenched her fist tightly.

If she found Go Igyeol, everything would be solved. The thought almost relieved her.

Unaware of the schemes Kang Mijin wove, Igyeol’s day passed in peace. Yesterday and today differed little. Then came word that the babysitter’s son had been in a car accident. The man turned pale as chalk, unable to form words. Seeing him struggle, Igyeol asked Shin Eunsuk whether they should drive him to the hospital. She replied coldly that a taxi could be called quickly, but when the sitter packed in silence, tears sliding down his cheeks, Igyeol took up the car keys.

“Will you really be all right?”

“I—I’ll just go alone, so…”

His eyes shook, four at once, with fear at leaving Igyeol with the baby. Between sobs, he pleaded only to be taken as far as the terminal. Hugging the infant close, Igyeol told him gently to go, that he would be fine.

“I’ll be fine, so go safely. You must be worried sick—hurry. Don’t waste time here.”

“But Ihyeon’s been coughing since yesterday… What if he falls ill, and you’re alone—”

“Ihyeon is my son. I’ll care for him properly. Go without worry.”

At Igyeol’s firm voice, Eunsuk reluctantly started the car, promising she would return first. He smiled reassuringly and waved as she left. With practiced ease he strapped on the baby carrier and saw them off, though her gaze lingered anxiously. The rumble of tires over dirt faded. Igyeol tucked the blanket snugly around the child against the chill, hurrying inside. The little one whimpered, coughing softly in his arms.

I’ll manage, won’t I? He had said so confidently, yet his palms grew damp with sweat. It was his first time truly alone with the baby. Wiping his hands against his trousers, he opened the door, laid aside the blanket, and awkwardly loosened the carrier. Somehow, he managed to set the child safely in the crib. The baby’s cheeks were flushed. Was it heat? At his touch, the infant turned into the coolness of his palm.

“Don’t get sick, hm?”

The child fussed again. Disliking to be laid down, he cried until Igyeol took him back into his arms. He paced through the rooms, stood before the window, wandered into the kitchen, let the water run to soothe him with sound, hummed nursery rhymes. When he checked the time, scarcely fifteen minutes had passed. Yet the crying only grew. What began as soft whimpers became wails.

“Why… why are you crying? Hm? Why…”

He clumsily imitated what he had once seen others do. He checked the diaper, but the baby only kicked and clenched tiny fists, still howling. Cold sweat broke on Igyeol’s brow. Was it a tantrum? He tried a pacifier, but it was spat out at once. The little face reddened, the sobs grew ragged, choking.

Panicked, he scooped him up again, pacing in circles. At last the baby calmed. So—he only wanted not to be put down. Igyeol rocked him gently, patting his back that fit wholly into his palm.

As he soothed him, he realized with alarm that the baby’s body was warm—too warm. His forehead and cheeks burned under his hand. Fever? He fetched the thermometer, inserted it into the tiny ear, and the beep confirmed it: too high.

“…You—you were fine, why… where, where does it hurt?”

Setting it down, he grabbed his phone. He almost dialed Eunsuk, but stopped. If he called, she would turn back. Clutching the crying child tighter, he searched instead how much medicine to give, what kind, whether they had any on hand.

Following the advice online, he stripped off the clothes and wiped the folds of skin with a lukewarm cloth. But the baby shuddered and screamed until Igyeol abandoned the attempt in panic, hugging him close.

“Ah, what do I do…”

He read that a bath could help, but he had never bathed the child alone, dared not try. He could only pace, clutching him, wiping his own tears with one hand. At last, with trembling fingers, he opened the contacts he had never been able to delete.

The dial tone rang, and as the baby’s sobs pierced the air, Igyeol sniffled into the receiver.

— “Go Igyeol-ssi.”

“Hhhuu—hhhu, Ihyeon, he’s sick. He’s sick.”

— “Why all of a sudden—no, wait. Hold on, I’ll come right now.”

“He… he has a fever, but I—I don’t know what to do. Wh-what do I… Auntie, she—hhk—”

— “Calm yourself. It’s all right. I’ll be there soon. Don’t cry. Just wait for me.”

“I’m scared. His fever… it keeps climbing, don’t—don’t hang up. Please, hhk—”