Chapter 39
Jeongjikhan widened his eyes in surprise upon seeing Yun Hyejeong and opened his mouth.
“Uh, Ms. Yun Hyejeong.”
“It’s enough now.”
“Huh? No, but even so, you worked so hard on this novel, and seeing it serialized…”
“I’ve moved past the stage of writing novels just for serialization.”
“No, but still…”
Yun Hyejeong stretched with a faint smile.
Was she proud? Or relieved?
Though it was unclear what Yun Hyejeong was thinking, her expression showed no lingering regrets.
“Mr. Jeongjikhan, do you know what happens after a deadline ends?”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“A new deadline begins.”
“….”
“That’s the life of a freelancer. When one deadline ends, another begins; when you finish one work, you have to plan the next—it’s an endless cycle of deadlines.”
Yun Hyejeong leaned back in her chair and continued.
“It’s tough, but do you know what keeps me going?”
“…I don’t know.”
“It’s simple: just love writing.”
Yun Hyejeong smiled warmly while talking about the essence of her goals.
Rather than urging herself to stubbornly endure because it was her chosen path, she meant to cherish and love her work without losing her initial passion.
When Jeongjikhan didn’t respond, Yun Hyejeong clasped her hands together and spoke.
“Baruch Spinoza once said this: ‘Only through our imagination can we describe the beauty and ugliness, order and chaos of things.’”
“….”
“‘The novel encompasses all of that.’”
“….”
“‘Isn’t it fascinating? You can become a god who builds an entire world and weave karma into it.’”
Like a child lost in a dream or someone describing their aspirations.
Yun Hyejeong’s eyes shone brighter than ever while talking about novels.
When Jeongjikhan remained silent, Yun Hyejeong smiled kindly and asked,
“‘Isn’t it… a wonderful and beautiful profession?’”
“‘It seems so.’”
“‘Then Mr. Jeongjikhan, do you know what beautiful means?’”
“‘Does it mean something that brings joy and happiness, something pretty and lovely?’”
“‘That’s the dictionary definition. But in the 15th-century Buddhist text Seokbosangjeol, the word “beautiful” (아름답다) is said to derive from “me” (나).’”
“….”
“‘So “beautiful”… actually means “like me.” When I am most myself, that is when I am beautiful. Isn’t that lovely?’”
Jeongjikhan nodded with a short sigh.
Yun Hyejeong smiled contentedly and rested her chin on both hands.
“‘That’s why I don’t mind if my work isn’t serialized or adapted into a drama. I did what I loved, and thanks to you, Mr. Jeongjikhan, I was able to see it through to the end.’”
“….”
“‘I am going my own way—the most me way—the most beautiful way.’”
Listening to Yun Hyejeong’s words, Jeongjikhan could no longer hold her back.
The Yun Hyejeong before him was neither eccentric nor otherworldly.
She was like a concise and complete sentence—a person who had found the courage to put a period at the end of her life rather than living amidst endless commas of deadlines.
Holding onto her would be disrespectful to the writer who had spent her life writing.
Jeongjikhan exhaled deeply and asked in a calm voice,
“‘May I choose a tea that suits you?’”
“‘Oh? Sure. Please recommend something.’”
“‘How about warm green tea to match your calm mood?’”
“‘Indeed, green tea would be perfect for the end. Please bring me some.’”
Jeongjikhan carefully brewed the green tea and handed Yun Hyejeong a steaming cup.
“‘Your green tea is ready.’”
“‘It smells wonderful.’”
Yun Hyejeong gazed at the teacup for a moment before looking at Jeongjikhan.
“‘Mr. Jeongjikhan.’”
“‘Yes, Ms. Hyejeong.’”
“‘Live beautifully.’”
Live beautifully.
Did she mean live as myself?
But Jeongjikhan…
“‘I… still don’t know what being myself means.’”
“‘Does being yourself have to be special? If you enjoy it and find it fun, that’s enough.’”
“‘But… should I do what I love or what I’m good at? I don’t know.’”
“‘Ah? Are you talking about dreams?’”
“‘If it’s about dreams or goals, shouldn’t they be grander and more certain?’”
Without hesitation, Yun Hyejeong answered,
“‘Life is a series of incomprehensible events. So don’t overthink it or worry about what others think. Just pour your passion into what you want without hesitation. Don’t worry about whether it makes sense—that standard is different for everyone.’”
“….”
“‘Isn’t it true that what you love becomes your hobby, your dream, your goal, and ultimately your happiness?’”
“‘Thank you for your wise words.’”
As Jeongjikhan bowed sincerely, Yun Hyejeong smiled brightly and sipped the green tea before her.
After drinking the warm tea and exhaling softly, her entire body began to glow with radiant light.
“‘When I leave… there will be people who miss me.’”
“….”
“‘There is a letter in my laptop documents. Please show it to them.’”
As Yun Hyejeong set down her teacup, her body turned into light and disappeared.
Amidst the falling specks of light came Yun Hyejeong’s voice like a faint echo:
Happiness is not the reward of virtue; it is virtue itself.
“Ms. Hyejeong…”
Mr. Jeongjikhan, happiness suits you more than anyone else. I pray for your virtue and happiness. Take care.
Though she was no longer visible, hearing her voice made it clear she was smiling brightly.
Jeongjikhan forced a bright smile and replied,
“Take care on your journey. I will also pray for your peace.”
Ding!
[The deceased Yun Hyejeong has achieved enlightenment.]
[A reward has been granted to ‘Jeongjikhan’ from KarMa Entertainment for assisting in achieving enlightenment.]
[1,500 Gil (吉) has been awarded.]
After checking Nahan’s message, Jeongjikhan remained motionless for some time.
He knew she had gone somewhere good, but watching people he had grown close to leave one by one… left his heart feeling empty.
To soothe his heart, he recalled Yun Hyejeong’s words as he brewed himself a warm cup of americano.
It was going to be another long night full of thoughts.
‘What do I truly love?’
Having worked tirelessly since his teens to pay off debts, Jeongjikhan couldn’t clearly understand what it felt like to do something he loved.
He had lived doing not what he loved but what he had to do.
The most authentic version of himself.
Something that brings joy and happiness when doing.
To Jeonghyeok, the Café of the Departed was like that.
But one cannot work at the Café of the Departed forever.
Happiness, joy, and peace with a predetermined end.
I don’t know how to soothe this bitter feeling in my heart right now.
‘Is acting…… something I truly love?’
When I stood in front of the camera, I felt both nervousness and excitement.
Whether it was because I liked it or because of the tension from unfamiliar work, I couldn’t yet give a definite answer.
“What’s got you thinking so deeply?”
Sookhee, dressed in a green hanbok, approached shortly afterward.
“Ah, Sookhee.”
“Has Hyejeong left?”
Instead of answering, Jeonghyeok nodded. Sookhee clicked her tongue and slumped into a bar chair.
“Lost a friend, I have.”
“She must have gone to a better place.”
“I know. But knowing doesn’t make it any easier. She was my closest friend here.”
Yoon Hyejeong had called Sookhee “unnie” and followed her around devotedly. They were often seen sitting together at the same table, gazing out the window. With Hyejeong—who’d stuck to her like a matching set—now gone, Sookhee must have been lost in thought.
Propping her chin on one hand, Sookhee muttered to herself:
“Could’ve at least said goodbye. Heartless brat.”
Her grumbling intensified, as if compensating for her regret.
Jeonghyeok suddenly remembered something he’d forgotten.
‘My documents.’
Before leaving, Hyejeong had said someone would miss her and told him to show them the letter in her files.
When he hastily clicked into the laptop’s “My Documents,” he found a file with an absurdly titled document:
[Unnie, Behold]
The only person Hyejeong called “unnie” was Sookhee.
“Sookhee. There’s a letter here from Yoon Hyejeong.”
“Hyejeong? For me?”
“Yes. Would you like to read it?”
“Well…… I suppose……”
As Jeonghyeok opened the document, Sookhee began reading with stiff hesitation. Her darting eyes gradually grew moist. She wiped her tears with a tissue from the counter, blew her nose, and spoke:
“That girl. Always called me ‘unnie’ but treated me like a child…… and then goes and acts all mature at the end.”
Calling her “unnie” yet treating her like a child?
Suddenly, Jeonghyeok remembered Hyejeong patting Sookhee’s back as she shed chicken-dung-like tears. He also recalled Hyejeong subtly signaling Kim Jinseong when he obliviously tried to play an instrument.
Though Sookhee had spent decades longer as one of the departed, Hyejeong had lived twice as long in the mortal world. Perhaps this was why Hyejeong called Sookhee “unnie” yet doted on her like a younger sister.
Jeonghyeok discreetly turned to read the letter on the laptop:
Unnie! By the time you read this, I’ll be in a better place, living well among trees and flowers.
Our lovely, adorable Sookhee unnie. I hope you find your brother and husband and join us in this good place. Maybe we’ll meet again up there?
Remember how I always said I’d turn your stories into a novel? You’d wave me off, saying they weren’t worth writing. I can still see you doing that.
I don’t think your life is unremarkable. Even an unglamorous life holds precious memories and history.
There’s a saying: “To be whole, one must have darkness too.” I think your darkness shaped your wholeness. So even your dimmest memories make you beautiful.
You endured hard times and became strong and wonderful.
Unnie! When we meet again, hear about my next project too. Your enthusiasm always inspired me.
So don’t arrive too late! I’ll be waiting up there, drafting my next synopsis.
No Jeonghyeok-ssi coffee here, but I’ll prepare something similar. Bring your husband and brother!
I’ll go first and wait.
It was Yoon Hyejeong’s letter to Sookhee—written lightly to cheer on the ascension of Sookhee, who’d wandered the mortal realm for 70 years.
Jeonghyeok studied Sookhee’s expression.
“Sookhee. For Hyejeong’s sake, you shouldn’t delay too long.”
“As if that’s up to me.”
“I’ll help. So you won’t be late.”
“You’ve done enough. What’s left…… is luck.”
Bzzzt— Bzzzt—
Jeonghyeok’s phone vibrated suddenly.
12:20 AM.
A call at this hour?
Most people would check the caller ID irritably, but Jeonghyeok wasn’t most people. His heartbeat quickened when he saw the name:
President Park Hyunwoo (Restaurant of the Departed).
He answered urgently.
“Hello? President Park Hyunwoo?”
“Yes, hello! Is this President Jeonghyeok’s number?”
“Yes.”
They’d exchanged numbers but never contacted each other. Park Hyunwoo’s characteristically hearty laughter followed, along with brief greetings:
“Haha! Sorry for calling so late. How’s business?”
“It’s fine. But you calling now means……”
He let the sentence hang with hopeful intent. Park Hyunwoo’s reply came swiftly:
“The person you’ve been seeking—Kim Deokbae, correct? And Kim Sookhee frequents your café as a customer?”
“Yes. Has Mr. Deokbae come to the restaurant?”
At the name “Deokbae,” Sookhee across from him widened her eyes and dry-swallowed.
“Yes! He arrived today. He only comes every few months, so I worried I’d miss contacting you—but he’s here now.”
“Does he match the information I provided?”
“Why else would I call? Hahaha!”
Hearing this, Jeonghyeok clenched his fist and looked at Sookhee.
“Sookhee. We found him.”
“R-really? Truly?”
“Yes! Your brother, Kim Deokbae—he’s at the Restaurant of the Departed right now!”
