CH 27
An orphanage in Gangdong District.
The man was a sponsor there and volunteered every weekend.
“Now you get it? Why I never married.”
“But someone as kind as you...”
“Who’d want a man always volunteering on weekends? No time for dates.”
The man smiled contentedly and pulled out his wallet.
Inside was a single photo, which he showed to Jeongjikhan.
“Look. See?”
“Wow... There are so many!”
The man’s claimed 12 daughters and 13 sons.
It could’ve been mistaken for a commemorative photo, but the children’s expressions told the truth.
Proof of his sincerity.
Their radiant faces couldn’t be fabricated.
Their flawless smiles, achievable only through genuine affection.
The photo showed children playing with water guns and the man grinning ear to ear.
They look so happy.
Another image captured him doing laundry with rolled-up sleeves, no trace of reluctance in his posture.
He seemed to cherish every moment.
The man brushed dust off the photo as if handling rare treasure.
“Well? Aren’t my kids lovely?”
“They look vibrant.”
“Weekends were chaos when I visited. Barefoot girls running out, boys leaping into my arms.”
Though he saw them as his own, the children called him “Uncle.”
No matter how close, “Father” would’ve been too much.
Could this leave lasting regret?
Jeongjikhan tentatively asked:
“Didn’t it hurt?”
“Hm? What?”
“Them calling you Uncle... I thought it might sting.”
“What? Never! I loved it!”
“I didn’t volunteer to hear ‘Daddy.’ ‘Uncle’ feels more natural.”
Nodding, the man continued warmly:
“Seeing them as mine is my choice alone. I can’t force it.”
“...”
“Forcing it... Wouldn’t that make me a fake parent demanding respect?”
“True.”
“Remember—never mind others’ opinions. Everything depends on perspective.”
Jeongjikhan pressed his lips together and nodded slowly.
The words lingered.
Did meaning arise simply from viewing them as family, even unreciprocated?
A one-sided love expecting nothing.
Though bloodless, this man had become the children’s emotional anchor—their father in spirit.
“How did you start volunteering?”
“I grew up in an orphanage.”
Each revelation surprised Jeongjikhan.
The man chuckled at his stunned expression.
“Think I’m some privileged silver spoon?”
“No! Just... unexpected.”
“Predictable.”
“What was your orphanage like? As warm as this photo?”
The man’s smile turned bitter.
“Mine closed long ago. We called them orphanages then. Teachers were... inconsistent.”
“Ah...”
“Hah! Bad luck followed me—beatings, being everyone’s punching bag.”
“...”
“I grew hardened. Worked obsessively. Before I knew it, I was wealthy.”
Jeongjikhan understood why the man had sympathized with his struggles.
Their pasts mirrored—yet the man’s wounds ran deeper.
Jeongjikhan still had family.
The chasm between having kin and none—vast as heaven and earth.
Unsure how to respond, Jeongjikhan nibbled his lip.
The man continued reminiscing:
“After getting rich... I realized something.”
“What?”
“That I’d gained nothing. Held nothing real.”
“But you’re wealthy.”
“Earn billions yourself. See if money matters.”
“...”
Jeongjikhan couldn’t fathom this bitterness. How could someone without 100 million understand a billionaire’s void?
The man sipped coffee, then confessed:
“Abandonment... made me fear marriage. That’s why I went to the orphanage.”
“...”
“I sought my childhood self. Not this hollow shell, but the fighter who survived those days.”
“...”
“Know what I felt seeing those kids?”
“This might offend... Pity?”
“Close, but no.”
The man exhaled softly.
“Kinship.”
“...Kinship?”
A billionaire relating to orphans?
The man answered Jeongjikhan’s tilted head:
“My body aged, but inside—I’m still that parentless child.”
Tears glistened at his eyes’ corners.
Jeongjikhan waited patiently.
“Your father’s gone, but your mother lives?”
“Yes.”
“Why seek wealth?”
Jeongjikhan met his gaze squarely.
“To comfort my mother. Be my sibling’s rock. Ensure my family lacks nothing.”
“Must you be rich for that?”
“Huh?”
“Can’t honor family without money?”
Jeongjikhan froze.
The man smiled faintly.
“Cherish them now. Don’t wait for ‘someday.’”
“...”
Time waits for no one.
The man's face was smiling, but his smile looked sad.
Resentment toward his parents became his driving force for growth, but perhaps it was through volunteering at the orphanage that he realized something.
He missed his parents more than anyone else and longed to see them.
A successful CEO.
A man who survived tenaciously like a weed without anyone’s help.
But deep inside, he still harbored a longing for his parents.
He must have wanted to lean on someone.
To say he was tired when he was tired.
To say he was in pain when he was in pain.
To say he was exhausted when he was exhausted.
He must have wanted to complain to someone.
But with no one to lean on, he must have felt lonely.
Denying these feelings and charging forward, he ended up finding an orphanage.
His pockets had grown full, but he must have discovered his inner self remained stunted.
So perhaps... he wanted to become a pillar for the children there?
I think I finally understood what the man meant by kinship.
Telling Jeongjikhan to honor his parents before it was too late—maybe he’d seen right through him.
Jeongjikhan’s heart wanted to honor his parents after repaying debts and succeeding.
The desire to make them proud without envy once wealthy.
Knowing this better than anyone, the man seemed to warn him: time waits for no one.
The man’s words stabbed Jeongjikhan’s heart like a dagger.
Guilt.
What have I been doing all this time?
Not wanting to see his mother’s worry, wanting to bring her joy, Jeongjikhan would flee home to work harder each time.
Why had he avoided conversations out of shame?
Even when he recently visited... Regret flooded him at her wrinkled face, yet old habits lingered.
As Jeongjikhan frowned, the man gulped his remaining coffee.
“Feels good to get that off my chest.”
“......”
“Thanks. The coffee was great.”
The man rose to leave.
Jeongjikhan hastily called out:
“Excuse me!”
The man turned.
“Still curious about something?”
“I never got your name.”
“My name? Why?”
“You do so much good... I should know it.”
The man smiled warmly.
“Service needs no name.”
“But...”
“Service isn’t about honor. It’s just service.”
“......”
“Thanks again. See you tomorrow.”
He left the café.
Ding!
[You have heard the story of the deceased ‘---’. 10 pieces of luck (吉) granted.]
[The Deceased’s Story – 6]
The Tale of an Unknown Businessman
Jeongjikhan stared at the café entrance, lost in thought.
He didn’t know how the man died, but he’d wanted to support the orphanage children.
And perhaps... he’d found peace in their smiles?
He mentioned Gangdong-gu.
Though the man refused to share his name, Jeongjikhan resolved to uncover it.
To replace precarious reliance with true rest—lingering in this world meant clinging to regrets.
From their conversation, the man’s unresolved regret likely involved failing the orphanage children.
His clothes suggested his passing wasn’t long ago.
Jeongjikhan vowed to find every Gangdong-gu orphanage and resolve his lingering sorrow.
“I’ll cover the expenses.”
Steeling himself, he waited for his shift to end.
At dawn, Jeongjikhan searched “Gangdong-gu orphanages”—three results.
Similar sizes and donor lists offered no clues.
Without the man’s name, calls yielded only:
“We can’t disclose donor information.”
Only one option remained: visit and compare with the photo.
One orphanage was ruled out via online maps.
The remaining two addresses led him to a bus.
There was a yard.
The photo showed children playing on grass, a large purple tub for laundry, pine trees with clotheslines, and a Virgin Mary statue.
The first orphanage had cement, not grass, and basketball hoops instead of pines.
The last address read:
Gangdong Hope Orphanage
Seoul, Gangdong-gu...
The moment he arrived, he knew.
Lush grass beyond the gates.
A serene Virgin Mary statue with folded hands—exactly as in the photo.
