Past (6), Psychotherapy (3)

For the woman who came to see the boy, psychological counseling was not a mere excuse.

‘I just hope this child isn’t suffering.’

That was the sincerity flowing beneath Song Soo-ah’s mask. She always blamed herself. Am I being too selfish? Wanting to check Gyeo-ul’s pain was ultimately to give herself comfort. Her concern for the boy was secondary. It was a shabby excuse.

However, it had already begun. The bond created by the meetings continued. To quit now would hurt the boy as well.

She was not certain. How did Gyeo-ul view her? They say you can never truly know the depth of another’s heart, but the depth in this boy was uncommon. Even the real counselor who offered her advice would tilt his head, perplexed.

The counselor evaluated the results of the various psychological tests the woman had prompted and the boy had completed.

“It’s clearly unusual.”

And he shook his head.

“No, don’t be alarmed. There’s a difference between being unusual and having a problem. Statistically, if you deviate more than twice the standard deviation from the social average, you’re considered unusual. It simply means you’re not typical. So in this context, unusual could mean a mental disorder, a hidden trauma that doesn’t show outwardly, or perhaps extraordinary talent.”

So, at that time, the woman asked,

“Doctor, which do you think it is?”

“To be honest… I don’t know. In the domains of family and sexuality we can analyze with a repressed model, but overall, he’s extremely unique. If it hadn’t been for the EEG analysis, I wouldn’t have trusted these results. I would’ve thought the child wasn’t being sincere.”

Seeing the woman’s dark expression, the expert added his own opinion.

“I understand why you’re worried. His past was what it was and the common perception is that trauma in adolescence lasts a lifetime. But that’s not actually true. Acquired mental disorders aren’t irreversible damage. Assuming proper counseling and treatment go together, there’s about a 75% rate of resilience. Unless it’s an extreme case, that is.”

“Well. What could be more extreme than this child’s past? Even optimistically, doesn’t that mean 25% of the trauma remains?”

“Oh, you’re misunderstanding. Ma’am, the human mind isn’t exactly like arithmetic. And among modern people, it’s rare to find someone who doesn’t have a mental health issue. Everyone bears some inner wounds, and these accumulate to become one axis of personality. It’s just that this child, Gyeo-ul, is so peculiar that it’s hard to draw any conclusions.”

“So in the end, there’s nothing we can say for sure.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you. Still, I do want to mention one thing—the child seems to be trying not to be angry at his parents. There’s a fair bit of pent-up emotion there. Next time, try gently probing. From his attitude in counseling, I think that should be okay.”

The counselor received video footage of each meeting between the woman and the boy. For the woman, it was a necessary measure to wear her mask, but it weighed on her heart. After all, it was shameful to the boy. Even if her intentions were good, it was the same. But she had no alternative.

‘Every day is just so anxiety-ridden.’

After that, it was today.

After they’d grown familiar enough to be comfortable with each other, the woman would ask the boy to complete a simple test each time she visited. One at a time. That’s why Gyeo-ul was now filling in an unfinished sentence. As it was the second time for the same test, he might have shown annoyance—but he only wrote steadily.

There were no right answers to these questions. Whatever came to mind immediately became the respondent’s mental image. There was only one rule: don’t take too long. It was a rule Gyeo-ul had grown used to.

Scratch, scratch. The comforting sound of the fountain pen. The movement of the pen mirrored the boy’s character.

To the woman, it felt like listening to music.

“‘My parents and I ‘”

The music faced a brief pause at this difficult phrase. The brief silence felt long. After tapping his lips with the pen’s tip in thought, Gyeo-ul wrote without a change of expression.

“‘My parents and I separated. ‘”

Compared to his long and earnest answers on other prompts, this was especially short. It was the same as last time. On topics involving family, the boy seemed to restrain himself.

What meaning was contained in that repression?

After getting through a few difficult questions, Gyeo-ul easily finished the rest and handed the completed answer sheet to the woman. She saved it to her private area. The document crumbled into light.

Gyeo-ul spoke.

“Go ahead and speak.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve seemed uncomfortable for a while now. Don’t you have something you want to say?”

The woman scolded herself inwardly. First, for not concealing it better, and second, for stammering in embarrassment. The counselor who advised her about the mask gave her some cautions. One was not to be flustered or tense.

Better late than never. The woman quickly calmed herself and tried to wear a shy smile for the boy.

“Sorry. I must have made you anxious. Yes, I do want to ask something. I hesitated because it might upset you.”

“Well… Isn’t how you feel what matters in that sort of thing? I don’t know what it is, but I’m sure you’re asking with no bad intent… Go ahead and ask. I won’t misunderstand. But if it’s too hard to answer, I hope it’s all right not to.”

“Of course. Thanks for saying that. Well, hmm, actually, it’s a question that came up from your previous test results…”

She asked the question cautiously. It was a detonator that needed to be handled with care.

“Gyeo-ul, did something bad happen with your parents in the past? I mean, something so bad that most people couldn’t even imagine?”

“Yes.”

The boy’s response was so immediate that the woman almost lost her composure again. Thankfully for her, Gyeo-ul hadn’t finished speaking yet.

“Was that a difficult question…? I thought you’d already guessed. The intent behind the questions was pretty obvious… But I didn’t answer dishonestly. Understanding the intent and answering honestly are two different things.”

Then, Gyeo-ul turned the question back.

“Are you curious what happened?”

“No, no. You don’t have to tell me that. It might help, but…what I want to know isn’t specifically what happened in the past. What I’m curious about is, why do you suppress the feelings that came from those events…? As you know, when old emotions pile up, it can become a sickness of the heart. Just sharing with someone can help a lot.”

I don’t want you to get sick. That’s how Gyeo-ul took it, and he nodded. And then he hesitated. Should he avoid answering?

With a sigh, he reached a conclusion. In truth, it wasn’t much.

“I try not to harbor resentment.”

“Huh?”

“My parents—I think they were very bad people. I think they did a lot wrong to me. But I’m trying not to resent them for it. It feels like misplaced anger…”

Misplaced anger? Not resenting them? Wasn’t it more than enough to cry, curse, and be angry? The woman waited in confusion for him to continue.

The silence didn’t last long.

“After coming here, I had a lot of time to think by myself.”

The last moment Gyeo-ul remembered in life was the cold, white scenery of an operating room. The end of the scene was unclear. Suddenly he fell asleep and when he awoke, he was alone in his own world. There was nothing left to crush him. The bitter relief he felt at that time still came to mind vividly. He cried a long time in a void where ten million stars shone. There was no one here to have their heart break at his tears.

Afterward, he did nothing, only let time pass—or rather, flowed along with time.

“At first, the more I thought about it, the more my hatred grew. I hated my father, disliked my mother. I blamed my parents for being here because they didn’t love me. But as I let the hatred grow…it felt wrong, like it was insufficient in some way.”

The woman listening felt her pulse quicken. Did that mean there weren’t enough people to hate? If his swelling resentment had shifted, who would it be aimed at?

But her worry was groundless. Gyeo-ul’s next words were not what she’d expected.

“My father…even as his child, he seemed immature. He lacked responsibility and self-control. He cared more about his own feelings, seldom empathized with others. My mother…wasn’t much better. But were they born that way? There’s no such fate as ‘you will grow up to be a bad parent,’ right?”

Still unsure of his point, the woman offered ambiguous agreement.

“… Yes, I suppose.”

“There’s such a thing as innate character. But people have to learn to be human, and mature through life… In the end, wasn’t it this world that gave me such parents? If my parents’ parents had loved a little deeper, if their friends were better, if their teachers had taught them better, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way…”

“So…when you said it was insufficient, do you mean…to resent properly, you’d have to hate everyone in the world?”

“Yes, that’s right. That’s how I thought back then. There was a real cause elsewhere, so it felt like giving up halfway to resent just my parents… Silly, isn’t it?”

Asking that, Gyeo-ul smiled brightly. The woman found it hard to interpret the boy’s smile—whether it was real or fake. With emotions hard to read, Gyeo-ul continued his story.

“Once I started hating my parents, I ended up hating all people, and with that, the whole world. I hoped such a world would disappear. Every day, I imagined that.”

“Gyeo-ul, then… you don’t think that way anymore?”

“No. I realized I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“There are people I love, and they have to live in that world too.”

Gyeo-ul laced his fingers on his knees and spoke quietly, looking down.

“There are two people I sincerely wish happiness for. If I learned anything since coming here, it’s that humans are meant to live among other people. I don’t think unhappy people can make others happy. So, we have to wish for everyone to be happier, not just keep on hating forever.”

One last thing, Gyeo-ul added.

“But it’s really hard.”

The woman felt a deep sorrow.

————————— Afterword —————————

#Q&A

Q. Agrappa: @How will the Harris Incident be made public?? If it continues to be rebroadcast across the United States in a drama-like way like the Santa Maria incident, then actors like Jeffrey Kwelremi would become national stars! lol

A. Like the commander said, it’s very dramatic. It’s about time for Jeffrey to get something in return…

Q. ThatHouseOctopus: @When the story’s finished, what year/season do you expect it’ll be? Honestly, I want the serialization to be long enough that it lasts my whole life.

A. If it goes that long, the quality wouldn’t hold up. I’m not even capable of that…

Q. LifeSaver: @Finished binge-reading on Joara, finished it all in two days. I recommended it to my friend, but my friend said it’s so full of childlike wonder they’d meet their doom if they read it twice and refused. It’s a pity they don’t understand innocence. p.s. Amon whispered in the starlight to give you all my coupons, so here’s 27 for you.

A. To doom from childlike wonder—could your friend hand out some of their innocence for free? I could really use some…

Q. Jzelia: This is the most complete novel I’ve read on Joara. On several levels it’s just fantastic, and the “bong-flavor” is wild. Reading this, I even went back and read The Little Prince. I kept looking up terms from the story, probably because I’m so used to “ttokta” on Joara. Anyway, how do I send support/coupons to the author? Or should I just post an account number in the afterword and deposit chicken money every month?

A. I’ll just gratefully accept the thought. An incomplete novel can always suddenly drift away from your tastes.

Q. 14C2A58H2: @Paper book… no limited edition? Like, say, a vacuum plasma tube containing 1 pictogram each of Tunguska’s innocence and antimatter? Or at least a signed copy that fills you with childlike wonder just by looking at it?

A. I am thinking of doing an event for signed copies.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep