Mirror World: Destined Return

With a flash, Seong-Hwi’s memories stopped at a certain snapshot.

“Who? Dong-Hyun?”

—Yes, hyung. Dong-Hyun from the Calasanz Home for Children. Seo Dong-Hyun. Can you open the door?

“Oh... sure,” Seong-Hwi said and unlocked the door.

It was December 24th, 2030—Christmas Eve. Seong-Hwi was about to turn twenty-six. A man who felt somewhat familiar arrived at his home.

Psh—!

The noise of air rapidly being purified in the airlock between the double doors sounded, and the internal door opened. The visitor removed his white hazmat suit, mask, and oxygen tank, revealing a slender man with a familiar face. He was Seo Dong-Hyun, three years younger than Seong-Hwi. They had not met since Seong-Hwi left the children’s home.

“It’s been a while, Seong-Hwi hyung.”

“Yeah... it sure has.”

“Wow, you have a nice place.”

“Well, we can live anywhere we want to since people are vanishing left and right.”

Dong-Hyun’s expression hardened at Seong-Hwi’s words. He had been forcibly smiling, but his expression was now crumpled, reflecting a deep sorrow.

Oh, I misspoke, Seong-Hwi thought.

People had been vanishing for over a decade. The phenomenon was named Lost and was still taking victims. Dong-Hyun might have lost people precious to him as well. Seong-Hwi had been unintentionally callous, but it was also a sad realization since it meant he had no one he considered precious.

“So, what brings you here?” Seong-Hwi asked to change the subject.

Dong-Hyun stared fixedly at Seong-Hwi. He gritted his teeth as if suppressing something he desperately wanted to blurt out, and burst into tears in silence. Seong-Hwi still vividly remembered Dong-Hyun’s sorrowful voice.

“Hyung... I heard... You graduated from Korea University. Could you... Help me? I’m so frustrated that... I can’t keep living or even kill myself!”

***

Dong-Hyun explained his circumstances. It was an agonizing tragedy hated by Hollywood. It likely would not have broken even if it had been released in theaters.

“So-Eun and I got married once we turned of age,” Dong-Hyun said.

“So-Eun?”

Seong-Hwi skimmed through his memories and recalled a girl with bright, round eyes. She was also in the Calasanz Home for Children and the same age as Dong-Hyun. He remembered her praying in tears in front of the podium during Mother Maria’s memorial service. She said Mother Maria had bought her a hairband to celebrate her admission into middle school and that she would use it for the rest of her life. He remembered it had a large cherry ornament—something only children would wear. It looked like two of Rudolph’s red noses.

“I work at a delivery service, and So-Eun was a senior at a junior college. It happened as she was coming home after her classes finished.”

Dong-Hyun continued his explanation with a pained expression. The oxygen in her tank ran out on her way home. She did not see any oxygen supply stations nearby, so she rang the bell of a nearby home and asked if she could borrow some of their oxygen. Since replenishing oxygen was crucial for one’s life, people were obligated to supply others with it. The owner of the house gladly consented, and So-Eun entered their home. However, she never came back out—no, she did, but as a soulless body.

“That son of a bitch! That motherfucker! So-Eun... So-Eun was...! Kurgh.”

Dong-Hyun panted heavily as he stared at Seong-Hwi. He did not say it outright, but one term could easily explain this tragedy: rape-murder.

Language was a shocking thing; it could summarize the tragedy of a man and a woman, the loss of love, the absurdity of society, the frustration, the rage—so easily and coldly.

“Hyung! Please help me, hyung! Korea University is a prestigious university, isn’t it?! That university is... known for its law school! Do you know anyone... any lawyer who graduated from that school?!” Dong-Hyun screamed desperately.

Seong-Hwi could only stare at him silently, wondering if this was Dong-Hyun’s destiny. Mother Maria had told him to grab hold of destiny, but this tragedy had come to Dong-Hyun; it was not by choice.

“The medical examiner who performed... performed the a-a... autopsy on... So-Eun told me that she was two weeks pregnant. He said she wouldn’t have known if it was only that long... My So-Eun... she became a mother... and I... a father...”

“Mother... Father?” Seong-Hwi muttered those two magical words.

Dong-Hyun and So-Eun both grew up at the children’s home without parents. The two incomplete selves united to become whole, and all that was left was to give their child the love they had never received. Such a tragedy couldn’t even be used as a short story, but it happened all too often in real life.

“What happened... to that son of a bitch? He was sentenced to death, right?” Seong-Hwi asked.

The death penalty, which only existed titularly in Korea, began to be enforced three years ago due to the world tumbling into chaos and the increasing incidence of brutal crimes. Such an insane man was bound to get the death penalty, but that did not seem to be the case from Dong-Hyun’s reaction.

“Kurgh! Hurgh!” Dong-Hyun cried like a beast.

His words rang in Seong-Hwi’s head like tinnitus.

Temporary insanity... record of schizophrenia medication... probation... enforce recurrence prevention... community service... employment restriction.

“What the fuck is that?” Seong-Hwi growled.

“Sniff, the law.”

***

“Haaa, this is complicated.”

“What’s wrong?” Seong-Hwi asked.

He was in a meeting with Choi In-Cheol of IJ Law Firm. Seong-Hwi did not have a large network of friends. He messaged the group chat he never participated in and made some calls. A peer he only knew the name of replied that his older brother was a lawyer, resulting in Seong-Hwi making an appointment with In-Cheol, the “I” of the IJ Firm.

In-Cheol, a well-groomed man in semi-formal wear and slick-back hair, answered, “Hmm... I examined the case you contacted me about, but... it won’t get anywhere.”

“Why not? How can such an absurd ruling not be overturned?” asked Seong-Hwi, unable to understand.

In-Cheol scratched his cheek and replied, “Haaa, how should I explain this...? Are you familiar with the privileges of former post[1]?”

“Privileges of... former post?”

“The lawyer the accused hired... used to be the chief judge. His juniors have taken his place, so... as a form of respect to him...” In-Cheol trailed off in shame.

“So, what you’re saying is... they’re abusing personal connections? In a court of law?”

“I’m ashamed to say... yes, that’s correct.”

“That’s correct?! What the hell’s with that?! Huh?! Is that the law?! How is that the law?!” Seong-Hwi shouted in disbelief as he slammed his fist on the table.

In-Cheol sighed and said, “It is not the law. The Constitution of the Republic of Korea, Article 11, Paragraph 1, states that all citizens are equal before the law. None will be discriminated against politically, economically, socially, or culturally based on gender, religion, or social standing.”[2]

“Then what is it? What is it if it’s not the law?!”

“It is... custom.”

***

Seong-Hwi stood before the gate of a certain house in the dead of night.

Shhh, shhh.

He could hear his breath as he inhaled the oxygen from his oxygen tank. The house he was looking at through the goggles of his hazmat suit looked far too large for one man to live alone.

This is that son of a bitch’s house...

Seong-Hwi did not know why he was standing there. Honestly, he wasn’t particularly close to Dong-Hyun or So-Eun. He only saw them a few times because they lived in the same home. In the first place, Seong-Hwi was not the type to get attached, which was why his social network was so small. It was likely because he was abandoned when he was five.

He was more suited to managing a library alone while dreaming, not standing on the front lines like this. However, he had no choice but to help Dong-Hyun after seeing him beg for help in tears. Such an illogical decision was likely his destiny as well.

Since the bastard has already met Dong-Hyun, I will...

Seong-Hwi pulled out his smartphone and turned on the voice recording app. The law no longer punished criminals—it only protected them. However, he did not deny the necessity of law; he only denied those who bent it to their liking.

Very well. I’ll get the proof you all love so much.

Seong-Hwi pressed the doorbell and heard someone pick up the receiver moments later. He heard a man’s voice.

—Who is it?

“H-hello. I’m terribly sorry to bother you so late at night. I couldn’t find an oxygen supply station anywhere.”

—So?

“If it’s not too much trouble, could you allow me to fill up my tank at your home? I will compensate you, of course.”

—Hah, what are the chances? Is my place known for its oxygen replenishment or something? You’re not a carrier, are you?

“Of course not. The vaccine was developed three whole months ago.”

—Well, okay. Come in.

The gate unlocked. Seong-Hwi took a deep breath and opened the gate. He was so on edge that his breaths sounded like thunder.

***

The front door also unlocked electronically, leaving just the interior door of the double-door airlock. After the front door closed, it took dozens of seconds for the purifier to purify the air in the airlock. The interior door opened soon after.

“Excuse me,” said Seong-Hwi as he removed his oxygen mask and goggles.

He peeked in to see a man about his age sitting on a couch in a large living room, pointing at the interior door with a remote controller.

“Come in. The oxygen machine is further inside. Bring your oxygen tank with you.”

“Oh, I understand.”

Seong-Hwi removed his hazmat suit and brought only his oxygen tank. The man pressed a button on his remote, closing the interior door.

“Do you see the kitchen over there? The oxygen machine is further inside, next to the water tank.”

“Thank you very much. Oh, how should I repay you...?”

“It’s fine. It’s my job as an upstanding citizen.”

Seong-Hwi could hear cards slapping from the man’s phone. He seemed to be playing Go-Stop[3]. Seong-Hwi connected the oxygen machine tube to his oxygen tank. He had left his tank relatively empty beforehand, so filling it would take a while.

He confirmed the oxygen entering his tank and returned to the living room to greet the man.

“You saved me. You don’t see people being so kind to strangers nowadays.”

“Pardon? Haha, it’s our duty, isn’t it? As for the oxygen tank, well... it helped me reminisce.”

“Reminisce?”

“Yes. It just so happens someone rang my doorbell before, asking if they could fill their tank in my house because there were no oxygen supply stations anywhere... just like you.”

The man stayed seated on the couch, not even glancing at Seong-Hwi. He had thin lips but was fairly good-looking. Seong-Hwi could see the reflection of red hwatu[4]cards in the man’s eyes.

“Oh, is that so? Did you open your door to them as well?” Seong-Hwi asked.

“Yes. And just like for you, I bestowed them... my kindness.”

Seong-Hwi clenched his fists.

Calm down. How can I get this man to confess?

He looked around the living room and noticed piles of prescription drug packets on the living room table. However, he couldn’t see any signs of them being taken.

This is it! I knew his schizophrenia diagnosis was a lie. Why else would he not take his meds?!

Seong-Hwi asked, “Are you ill?”

“Pardon?” The man looked away from his smartphone to turn to Seong-Hwi, then glanced at his table. “Oh, yes. I’m a little off up here.”

The man tapped on his head with his finger.

Seong-Hwi pretended not to know and replied, “Oh! A migraine?”

“No, I have a mental illness.”

“Pardon?”

The man snickered as Seong-Hwi pretended to be shocked. “There’s no need to worry. It’s just a mild case of schizophrenia.”

“Schizo...phrenia?”

“I sometimes hear voices in my head. They tell me stuff like “That guy is here to kill me!” or “Kill that person!” and even “Rape that bitch!” The hallucinations feel so real that I sometimes can’t distinguish between reality and dream.”

Seong-Hwi’s lips quivered.

It was... true? Then does that mean So-Eun was just unlucky? She was punished for willingly entering an insane man’s home? Is destiny impossible to change through human means? Is it predetermined at birth?

“Is... is that so? But none of the packets... have been opened...” Seong-Hwi slurred.

“Oh, that’s because they were prescribed today.”

“Oh...” Seong-Hwi stumbled backward into the kitchen, feeling dizzy.

The man chuckled at Seong-Hwi’s flustered reaction and remarked, “Haha, you don’t have to be that scared. I’m getting much better. No, I’ve never been better. I thought there was nothing to live for in this world, but... I found something to enjoy.”

The man smiled widely.

“Something to enjoy...? What is that?” Seong-Hwi asked.

“Pardon? Oh... Haha, Go-Stop,” the man said flusteredly as he waved his smartphone.

Seong-Hwi got a splitting headache. The destiny he had learned about was as fascinating as the books in his library. The characters in all of the novels he had read carved their own destiny—they were the heroes of their own story. However, reality was different. The destiny of humans was swept away before they could even attempt to grasp it.

So-Eun, Dong-Hyun, and I... are we but puppets controlled by predetermined strings of destiny? Is that the true nature of humans?

They were no different from a train that could only move along its tracks.

A sound indicating the oxygen tank was full rang. Seong-Hwi grabbed his splitting head and disconnected the oxygen machine tube from his tank.

My voice recording plan failed. He... actually has schizophrenia? Urgh, my head hurts. I should get out of here first... huh?

Just then, something caught Seong-Hwi’s eye. Bottles of alcohol near the water tank surrounded something as if guarding it. Seong-Hwi was familiar with it—a hairband with a large cherry ornament that only children would use.

It was the hairband that Mother Maria bought for So-Eun to celebrate her admission into middle school. The two plastic cherries had several scratches, but the hairband looked new. She had likely been replacing just the elastic portion whenever it broke.

Seong-Hwi picked up the hairband with a shaking hand and asked, “Do you have... a little sister?”

The man turned to Seong-Hwi in response to his question. He smiled disgustingly once he saw the hairband.

“Heh, no. I don’t have a sister.”

“Then... what is this?”

“Mmm, you could say it’s... my first trophy? Kek!”

⌜Yes! Shake it!⌟

The cheerful line of the female voice actor in the mobile Go-Stop game echoed throughout the living room.

1. Jeon-gwan ye-u is an informal arrangement in the South Korean legal system whereby retired judges and public prosecutors who later become lawyers in private practice receive special treatment from their incumbent former colleagues. ☜

2. I’m paraphrasing; this isn’t the official translation. ☜

3. Go-Stop is a Korean card game. ☜

4. Hwatu are the cards used for Go-Stop. ☜