A Meaningful Sacrifice: One-Shots

Together Again

Hyoryung hasn't let go of Hyomin's hand for the past ten minutes. It's too hard to, as though she'll lose everything again if she doesn't hold on. From the rearview mirror, she notices how her parents have aged considerably since she last saw them. But it doesn't compare to how traumatized Hyomin must be. While she desperately wanted to go to school in Seoul, she probably never expected her family to be caught in a zombie apocalypse.

"Mianhae," says Hyomin.

Hyoryung looks to her sister, who stares at the passenger headrest. Hyomin looks despondent, which worries Hyoryung. She doesn't want her sister to fall into any sort of depression, not when they're all together again.

"Why?"

"I left you behind. Mianhae."

Hyoryung shakes her head. She squeezes Hyomin's hand.

"Never say sorry for wanting to follow your dream," she orders. Hyoryung knows how much art means to Hyomin—in fact, she was the one who vouched for Hyomin to go to Seoul last year. "It's not your fault, Hyomin-ah. Okay?"

Hyomin sighs.

"I suppose."

"How's Samchon?" asks Hyoryung, wanting to redirect the conversation. "I'm grateful that he could send Joonyeong's glasses so quickly."

"He's well," replies Hyomin. "At least, he seems so. I know it's been hard for him to house the three of us. He's not used to taking care of people other than himself."

"But isn't it nice for him to have company?" Hyoryung leans back in her seat. "He's been so lonely all these years."

"I wouldn't say lonely," Hyomin counters. Something about her tone says that she knows more than she lets on. "He's happy without anybody tying him down. All he cares about is us. And his job."

"Samchon is cooking your favorite tonight, Hyoryung-ah," says Appa, grinning at his eldest through the rearview mirror. "He made sure to get all the ingredients before today."

"Oh yeah! That," says Hyomin. She turns to Hyoryung with a smile. "I went grocery shopping with Samchon yesterday, and you know how much I hate grocery shopping." Grinning like Appa, she continues, "You owe me one, unnie."

"Want to stop for ice cream?" asks Eomma, turning to face her daughters. "It's been a long time, but what do you say?"

"No thanks," Hyoryung quickly declines. At this, Eomma sends her a concerned look, but she doesn't press her daughter for a reason. Hyomin, on the other hand, seems to understand. She squeezes Hyoryung's hand.

Every time Hyoryung thinks of ice cream, she thinks of Jimin. The girls used to go to their neighborhood ice cream shop every Friday to celebrate another week of school endured. Neither of them were particularly ambitious, just wanting to get through high school and university. Post-university plans are where they diverged, though. While Hyoryung would settle down, Jimin would be career-focused. Hyoryung would marry early, and Jimin would marry later. Hyoryung would have kids, and Jimin would be their cool aunt.

Who will be their cool aunt now?

Kim Jimin, who died because she wanted to live, will never leave Hyoryung's memory. They were friends in life, and now, Hyoryung is determined to hold onto her in death. After many months of thinking it over, she doesn't feel the betrayal she felt before. She understands that Jimin was scared, and she knows, with a little more courage, Jimin wouldn't have run. If Hyoryung hadn't slipped, perhaps Jimin would be waiting for a call in the apartments. If she had been more careful...

Seoul's skyline isn't too different from Hyosan's. She's never been to South Korea's capital, but it feels like she's lived there forever. The highrises, the office buildings, and even the metro line is the same as it was in Hyosan. Highways mimic those found in Hyosan. Cars zip past each other in the hubbub of urban traffic. Large ads mark the top parts of the office buildings. One of the ads, she notices, is a video of Jisoo promoting a new Cartier watch.