Pen and Paper Translations

Min Jun-seok.

He had just turned fifty, and he was a man who had lived a harsh, relentless life.

In his youth, he suffered a severe illness. Afterward, he lost all hearing. The entire world went silent. Even so, he pushed himself to live with all his might.

He worked at a briquette factory.

His whole body would be covered in coal dust, yet he never paused. He moved, stacked, and loaded briquettes as they came off the conveyor belt, day after day, almost like a machine.

Always the same routine at the same time, as though running on a wheel.

Having lost his hearing, he tried hard to learn how to read lips. But language barriers were formidable. He ended up isolated at work, consumed by labor in a world of silence. Furthermore, he scrimped and saved wherever possible—there were younger siblings in school, so he would skip lunch except for tap water. If he felt hungry, he just endured.

Then one day, a warm hand tapped him on the shoulder.

Tap, tap.

He still remembered the gentle touch on his shoulder.

“Aren’t you eating lunch?”

He clearly recalled how each syllable dropped from her lips, accompanied by a beautiful smile. It was the lovely accounting clerk who caught the eye of nearly all the young men at the factory.

Min Jun-seok was clueless when it came to socializing. He didn’t know how to blend in with people, especially not with women—he could hardly imagine how to start a conversation.

He merely nodded.

“You’ve got to eat, right? That’s why we work.”

Seeing him answer with a gesture, the young woman said,

“I’ll share mine, so let’s eat together.”

He imagined the following:

Though he couldn’t hear her, he pictured her voice…
Soft and warm like a newborn chick’s down.

From then on, Min Jun-seok ate with that young clerk every day. It was hard to say exactly when it started, but at some point, she began bringing two packed lunches—enough for both of them. They ate together daily and sometimes spent weekends out together.

On one of those days, as they were sitting face-to-face for lunch, she propped her chin in her hand and spoke with a casual air:

“Is it good?”

He nodded.

“I’m a pretty good cook, right?”

He nodded again.

“Wouldn’t you like to eat my cooking every day?”

More nodding.

“How about I take care of all three meals for you, every day?”

He nodded once more.

Min Jun-seok, nodding unconsciously, finally lifted his head to look at her.

“Let’s just move in together.”

Then she raised her hands and signed:

“Marry me.”

In that moment, he made up his mind—he couldn’t let this woman slip away. With clumsy hands, he signed back:

“I don’t have much, and I can’t hear, and I’m not a cool guy. But I can promise you one thing: I’ll make sure you never have to worry about making ends meet. I’ll work hard, faithfully, with my family as my only focus.”

At those awkward words—

“Exactly—I’m saying let’s get married already.”

She smiled brightly. That was precisely the side of him she had fallen for. And so she became his wife.

---

Time passed. They had children.

“Baa—”

Their son, Hyunseung.

“Baa, baa—”

His tiny mouth moved as if to say something. It sounded like he was whimpering “Dad,” but Min Jun-seok couldn’t hear it. How he ached for that.

Before long, their second child, Hyuna, was born—a precious daughter taking after her mother. It felt as though he possessed the entire world.

Do I even deserve this kind of happiness? he wondered every day.

Then one day, his wife died in a traffic accident—on his birthday, no less. She had promised to cook him dinner.

– Just write out what we need, and I’ll go get it.
– No, you must be tired. I’ll go.
– It’s only a birthday; no need to overwork yourself…
– Nonsense! It’s my husband’s birthday—that’s a huge day!

He wept before her portrait, beating his chest. I should’ve been the one to go. Whether it was the store or somewhere far, I should’ve gone instead.

Now he was left alone to raise two children, deaf. He had no choice but to live fiercely, even more stubbornly than before.

He developed the habit of rolling up a nearly empty toothpaste tube to squeeze the last drop, or adding water to the shampoo that was running out. After Hyunseung learned to read, he took to hiding overdue bills in a drawer. These were the coping habits of a man determined to survive.

One winter, things took a turn for the worse—he got swindled. A coworker pitched an investment scheme, promising great returns; then vanished, leaving only debt behind. He had been too naive, knew too little. It crushed his determination to keep on living somehow.

One morning, preparing for work, he suddenly thought: I want to run away. He wanted to drop everything and flee. People say humans never change, but it’s also human to upend your life with a single thought.

For the first time ever, he skipped work without telling anyone. He woke his children early that day, washed them up, and simply left the house.

– Let’s go see your mother today.

They were too young to grasp that their mother had passed. They went into the city, the kids excited. He gave them haircuts, new clothes—anything to make them look nice.

– We’ve got to look our best, right?

Then they went to the movies.

[Invincible Captain Saurus!]

It was an animated film his son had chosen.

– Dad, I’m so happy!

His son said he spent every day watching that cartoon at home with his sister while their father was at work.

– Yes. Let’s enjoy the movie and then go meet your mother…

Of course, he couldn’t hear a sound from the film. He only saw the flickering lights shining on the children’s faces, saw them laughing, bright and joyful.

– Let’s head home now. We’ll sleep a bit, then go see your mother.

Past midnight, he returned home with the kids. He truly intended to give up on everything. Guilt made his hands tremble; tears blurred his vision, but he couldn’t bear another day. The children quickly fell asleep, completely spent.

Holding a bottle of soju, he stared at a black plastic bag. Inside were briquettes. He worked at a briquette factory. Death by carbon monoxide poisoning happened often—just another “accident” no one would pay attention to. He figured no one would care if that happened in a crumbling home like this.

He believed he had made up his mind, but the guilt was crushing. Would I hear my children’s voices in heaven? Would he hear his beloved wife’s voice, the woman he loved so deeply? He clutched at his sleeve, wrestling with his conscience.

Just then, a little hand grabbed his shirt.

“Dad, why are you crying?”

His son had woken up, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Are you crying because it’s hard?”

He couldn’t force out a reply of Nothing’s wrong. The words stuck in his throat.

“We’re sorry.”

That tiny hand pulled him into a hug. Pat, pat.

Then his son gently patted his back, speaking each word carefully.

“Some ladies told us Dad’s having a really hard time.”

Those busybodies, always with their meddling.

“They told us we have to behave, because you took us in when we had no one.”

He might have laughed if it didn’t hurt so much.

– Dad, I’m sorry we’re making this harder.

At that clumsy sign from his son, Min Jun-seok broke down. He sobbed like a child, hugging his son tight. His weeping intensified, melting the iceberg lodged in his heart, letting old wounds slowly heal. The lost will to live seeped back into him.

– Dad… Dad…

He held his son tight and for a long time repeated the same words: I’m sorry. Dad’s okay.

He couldn’t hear his own voice. He had no idea if his children understood him. But he just kept saying it:

Sorry. Dad’s fine.
Truly sorry.
I’m okay.

He had once promised his wife:

– I’ll live diligently for my family.

Yet he’d failed to protect her, had nearly broken his vows. He would have died with no face left to show her in the afterlife. So he decided to live with the resolve of a man prepared to die every day.

After finishing his shift at the factory, he’d go do unloading jobs. At dawn, he delivered newspapers and milk. On days off, he found odd jobs. He did everything he could to raise his children without letting them go hungry. It was a relentless existence. A harsh world had shaped him that way.

Tap, tap.

A large hand patted his shoulder.

– Father.

It was his son, grown tall and looking every bit an adult. Thanks to that son, they were now on an overseas trip—something he never imagined. They had just come back to the hotel after enjoying the open-air bath.

– Anyway, shouldn’t you get a medical checkup soon, Dad?

Feeling sheepish, Min Jun-seok signed back:

– I’m fine.

He had become a man who insisted everything was fine. He’d vowed to endure anything, for he believed he owed a debt.

– Truly, I’m all right.

Hyunseung paused in the middle of toweling off his still-damp hair and signed back:

– What do you mean you’re fine? At your age, you need a yearly checkup.

– Geez, I told you, I’m fine…

– Enough. I earn more than enough to pay for any medical bills. Once we’re back home, you’re definitely—

Watching his son sign so earnestly, Min Jun-seok smiled. Outside the window sparkled the bright nightscape of Tokyo.

He thought to himself: What a sad life it has been. Like a trembling aspen in a cold winter wind. So, so many trials. But now… It must be spring.

Truly, lately, everything felt like a dream. The same wonder he’d felt back when he first met his wife.

He realized he didn’t have any real wishes left. Or maybe just one final wish:

Someday—far in the future—he wanted to hear his children’s voices. Just once, to hear them calling “Dad.” Even one time. And he wanted to hear his late wife’s voice again. Surely it would be as lovely as her face. And… he wanted to hear the music his son wrote. Right now, he couldn’t remember what sound was like, so he couldn’t even imagine it.

He sighed, wiping at eyes that had grown red. In the end, he’d never be able to hear the fruit of his son’s hard work or say, I listened, and it was great. That alone made him feel momentarily overwhelmed. But Min Jun-seok was a man who had chosen to live as if prepared to die. He forced the wave of emotion down and simply stared at the sheet music again and again.

He still lived with guilt—atoning, loving, caring for his children. He had promised that the more guilt he felt, the tougher he would be, the better he would do. For a long time, he only stared at the sheet music.

He couldn’t stop remembering his son’s clumsy sign language. Remembering how he’d sobbed like a child, while the boy anxiously signed I’m sorry with those little hands.

“Mi—mi—sorry…”

He mumbled clumsy syllables, uncertain if he was pronouncing them correctly or not.

“A—ah—Dad’s okay…”

Repeating again and again,

“I’m—really—sorry…”

---

Sigh—

Hyunseung, tipsy from the drinks, was heading to his room through the penthouse’s living area when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye.

“Hm?”

His father’s door was slightly ajar, and he saw the older man clutching a sheet of paper in his sleep.

What’s that?

Moving closer, Hyunseung noticed it was the sheet music for “Walk with Me,” a piece he’d composed. A past memory surfaced: in his previous life, when his father was bedridden, those sheet music pages lay by his side. On the day Hyunseung sorted through his father’s belongings—a single box held everything from a lifetime, half of which were the compositions Hyunseung had written.

“Honestly…”

He whispered, Why does the word “father” end up being the saddest word in the world?

“So constant… as always.”

He spoke softly.

“I’m sorry.”

His father would never hear that apology—words that fell flat, weightless.

“I’ll do better.”

Suddenly, a fresh melody took shape in Hyunseung’s mind. Once he was back in Korea, he wanted to tell his story. A song driven by personal feelings, no regard for commercial appeal—something he never could have released in his old life. A deeply personal piece, brimming with everything bottled inside.

He wanted to create that kind of music.

---