Ji Hyo Ha had just been discharged from the military. With a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he stepped through the front gate of his home, expecting familiarity—but instead, a wave of staleness hit his nose. The rancid stench of neglect made his stomach churn.
He instinctively held his breath as he pushed the door open. Inside, his home was a disaster. The once-welcoming space was now filled with filth, overturned furniture, and an unbearable odor that clung to the walls. His chest tightened as his eyes scanned the mess, searching for a sign of his father.
But the house was empty—just as empty as it felt.
Empty bottles and cigarette butts were scattered across the floor, stains lined the walls, and mold clung to the corners of the ceiling. The air was suffocating, thick with the stench of decay.
Ji Hyo stood still for a moment, staring at the ruins of what was once a home.
This house was the last thing his grandmother left behind before she passed. Now, it was barely livable.
Of course, he didn't bother taking care of it…
His father—no, the man who called himself his father—hadn't changed at all.
Ji Hyo sighed, rubbing his temples. "Guess I'm cleaning this up myself."
With a deep breath, he rolled up his sleeves, tied a cloth over his nose, and got to work.
Hours later, it was already dark.
By the time Ji Hyo finished, his back ached, and his arms felt like lead.
The house still felt empty, but at least it was no longer suffocating. The trash was gone, the air was breathable, and the place looked somewhat normal.
Yet… there was no sign of his father.
Not a single note, not a single clue.
Where the hell did he go?
He had assumed the old man would be passed out drunk at some bar, but this? This wasn't like him. He was always around, drinking himself stupid.
Ji Hyo ran a hand through his hair. "I should ask around."
Ji Hyo knocked on the familiar wooden door next door. It wasn't long before it swung open and Minsook Lim came out , a middle-aged woman in her late forties with a warm but sharp gaze.
The moment she saw him, her eyes widened.
"Ji Hyo?! Yah, look at you! You're finally back?"
Ji Hyo gave a small grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes, ajumma. I just got discharged yesterday."
Minsook gasped, grabbing his wrist and giving him a firm shake.
"Aigoo, our Ji Hyo is all grown up now! Did you get taller? More muscles, huh? Were the army girls all over you?"
Ji Hyo chuckled, shaking his head. "I think they were too busy making my life hell."
Minsook laughed but then narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"You're not lying, right?"
She let out a playful laugh, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
"No secret girlfriend?
I'll be very disappointed if you didn't bring home at least one pretty officer!"
Then, with a teasing tilt of her head, she added, "Anyway, did you eat already?"
Ji Hyo groaned. "Ajumma, please—"
Before he could protest, his stomach let out a loud, humiliating growl.
There was a beat of silence.
Then, Minsook burst out laughing.
"Yah, you were about to lie and say you already ate, weren't you?"
Ji Hyo sighed, defeated. "Maybe."
Minsook grinned, patting his shoulder. "Aish, you should've just said so! Come eat with us. Dong-pil's been slacking off all day, so at least we'll have an extra mouth to feed."
The warm scent of home-cooked food filled the air as Ji Hyo stepped inside. The place was cozy—lived-in, full of warmth and chatter. It was nothing like his house.
On the couch, Minsook's husband, Dong-pil Lim, was lounging, eyes glued to the TV, watching a variety show.
"Yah, Dong-pil! Get off your lazy butt, it's dinner time!"
Dong-pil barely looked away from the screen. "Five more minutes—oh, wait."
His gaze landed on Ji Hyo.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, a wide grin spread across Dong-pil's face.
"YA! Look who it is! Ji Hyo, my boy! You're finally out of that soldier life!"
Ji Hyo laughed, bowing slightly. "Good to see you, ajeossi."
Dong-pil waved him over to the dining table. "Come, come, sit! You must've missed real food. What did they even feed you in the army? Boiled sadness?"
Ji Hyo smirked. "Close. Mostly regret and instant noodles."
Minsook rolled her eyes as she set the table. "Aish, stop bullying him and eat."
Ji Hyo took a seat, feeling strangely at ease for the first time in a long while. Minsook placed a steaming bowl of kimchi jjigae (김치찌개) in front of him, along with rice and side dishes.
Dong-pil leaned forward with a sly grin.
"So, Ji Hyo… where's your girlfriend?"
Ji Hyo nearly choked on his rice.
"W-what?"
Minsook smirked. "Aha! He hesitated. That means there's someone."
Ji Hyo glared. "There's no one!"
Dong-pil sighed dramatically. "Aish, what a waste. A young man like you? You should've at least brought back a fiancée!"
Minsook nodded in agreement. "Maybe he's secretly dating and doesn't want people to know haha."
Ji Hyo groaned. "I didn't came here to be ask about that, because I have none"
The couple laughed heartily, and despite the teasing, Ji Hyo couldn't help but feel a little lighter.
For a brief moment, he forgot about his empty house and missing father.
For now, he let himself enjoy the warmth of family—someone else's family, but a family nonetheless.
The sound of chopsticks clinking against bowls filled the cozy dining room. The rich aroma of kimchi jjigae and freshly steamed rice mixed with the faint scent of detergent—Minsook ajumma always kept her house spotless.
Ji Hyo sat across from Dong-pil ajeossi, finally getting a proper meal for the first time in ages.
Minsook ajumma, as expected, kept the conversation lively.
"So, tell us! How was military life? Did you cry on your first day?"
Ji Hyo scoffed. "Me? Cry? Please, ajumma. I'm made of steel."
Dong-pil smirked. "Made of steel? Yah, I remember a certain brat bawling his eyes out when he fell off his bike as a kid."
Ji Hyo rolled his eyes. "That was different. I was like… five."
Minsook chuckled, refilling his bowl. "Did they at least feed you well in the army?"
Ji Hyo dramatically sighed. "If you call plain rice and bland soup 'food', then sure."
Dong-pil grinned. "Aigoo, so you must've missed real food, huh?"
Ji Hyo nodded, taking another bite of kimchi. "This is heaven compared to military rations."
The conversation flowed effortlessly, the warmth of the meal slowly easing the tension in Ji Hyo's shoulders. It almost made him forget why he came here in the first place.
Almost.
As he chewed on a piece of pork, the thought hit him like a punch to the gut.
Right… my father.
His grip on his chopsticks tightened slightly, the flavor on his tongue suddenly dull. He cleared his throat and looked at Minsook.
"By the way, ajumma… do you know where my father is?"
The room fell into an immediate hush.
Minsook and Dong-pil exchanged a glance—one of those heavy, silent looks that carried too much meaning.
Minsook was the first to speak, carefully setting down her spoon.
"We… haven't seen him in a while now."
Ji Hyo's brows drew together.
"At all?"
Dong-pil rubbed the back of his neck, his expression awkward.
"Actually the last time we saw him was maybe… 8 months ago."
Ji Hyo blinked. "What?"
Minsook nodded slowly. "Yeah… we thought maybe he left you a message or told you where he was going."
"No," Ji Hyo said flatly, shaking his head. "He never messaged me. I even texted him a few times, but he never responded. I thought he was just ignoring me."
Dong-pil let out a soft sigh and leaned back in his chair.
"Knowing him… he probably didn't even remember how to reply."
"He wasn't well, Ji Hyo," Minsook added gently. "After you left… he didn't eat. All he did was drink—morning, noon, night. He looked worse each day."
Her voice dropped slightly, and her eyes flickered with regret.
"Then, suddenly… he was gone. Just like that."
"We heard from someone that a man collapsed on the street near Bongcheon-ro, and they said the man is identical to your father but there's no confirmation," Dong-pil said quietly. "But at that time, the ambulance came too late. Malnourished, poisoned by alcohol… nothing else in his system. The man drank himself to death."
Ji Hyo sat frozen, a strange hollowness blooming in his chest. He didn't know what to say.
He had imagined confronting his father again—maybe to yell, maybe just to stand taller than him for once. But this? This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Minsook watched his reaction carefully, her tone softening further.
"Ji Hyo… at that time we also believed that it was your father…" She paused. "That man was a miserable soul."
Dong-pil nodded grimly.
"Even before you enlisted, we could barely sleep some nights. He'd come banging on our gate, yelling at no one, screaming curses, demanding money."
"If we didn't come out, he'd throw bottles at the house," Minsook added with a tired sigh. "Every time we heard a crash, we braced ourselves."
"It wasn't just us. The whole neighborhood was walking on eggshells. And you? You were the one suffering the most."
Ji Hyo kept staring at his bowl, his appetite completely gone now.
"You remember those bruises, don't you?" Dong-pil said gently. "You'd go to school hiding them under long sleeves. Always quiet. Always pretending nothing was wrong."
Minsook's eyes grew glassy.
"We worried, Ji Hyo. Every time we saw you come home with those hollow eyes… it broke our hearts. You always said, 'I'm fine,' but we knew you weren't."
"And when you enlisted early," Dong-pil said, "we figured maybe it was your only way out. Maybe that was your way of running from it all."
"And now…" Minsook placed a hand over his, gently. "Now that he's gone, it might sound cold to say—but maybe it's a blessing."
Ji Hyo didn't respond right away. He thought he would feel something more—grief, regret, anger, it's also the reason he doesn't have any friends… but all he felt was a strange, quiet relief.
For the first time in his life, there was no one waiting at home to yell at him. No footsteps to fear in the hallway. No clenched fists behind slurred words. Just silence. Peace. He exhaled slowly, finally managing a small smile.
"Yeah… maybe it really is better this way."
Minsook smiled, her warmth returning.
"So don't go digging through the past, okay? You've had enough pain. From now on, focus on your own life. Build something new."
"And if you ever get hungry," she added with a playful grin, "come here. I'll cook for you every day if you want."
"You're already halfway adopted," Dong-pil chuckled. "At least you're more useful than my daughter, who only talks about boy groups and runs around pretending to marry idols."
Ji Hyo couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh. The knot in his chest loosened a little more.
"Thank you, ajumma. Ajusshi."
Maybe it was strange. Maybe it was a little bittersweet. But for the first time… this broken little house, this rough little neighborhood, and even his heavy past— All of it finally felt a little lighter.