Chapter 8.2

Chapter 8.2

Juran found her mother on the cold floor three hours later as she was getting ready for work. They rushed her to the hospital, and although she was still breathing, her brain function had already ceased, and her heart stopped two days later. Miran was seven years old at the time.

Miran looked at a photo of her mother, dressed beautifully in a hanbok.

“I’m about the same age as Juran is now, and mom looks like a grandmother.”

She couldn’t remember her father, so she didn’t know the sadness of his loss, but she was quite sad when her mother passed away. Despite Juran’s disapproval because it would rot her teeth, her mother would always sneak her sweet treats every night.

The loss of her doting mother left her heartbroken, and she clung to Juran’s white-ribboned mourning clothes, crying her eyes out. Then Juran held her and cried even harder.

However, having three much older sisters was like having three mothers. She grew up receiving both their scolding and care.

Miran loved it when Juran came to her elementary school. Juran, in her trench coat, high heels, and perfectly applied makeup, always drew admiration, making Miran feel proud.

Especially her third-grade homeroom teacher, a bachelor, was particularly kind to Miran. Looking back, he seemed to have been interested in Juran, as he often asked about her.

“Our unni Juran was so beautiful, but because of me…”

Miran’s chest tightened with guilt. Juran, now forty-four, was older than their mother had been in the photo. Their mother had four daughters at that age.

Juran, who had become the head of the household, worked even more relentlessly than their mother. She worked from Monday to Saturday at a company, waited tables at a restaurant in the evenings, and on Sundays, she labored all day at a barbecue place, carrying grills and cutting meat.

After selling the shop and house, Juran used the money to pay off their debts. She then broke her own savings to marry off Yeongran and Geumran properly. Despite this, she scrimped and saved to buy a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a multiplex house in Yongin. In doing so, she had no time for romance and found herself well past forty, having spent all her time taking care of her siblings.

She always said, “When Miran graduates from college, gets a job, and marries a good person, then I’ll find someone to love and get married. So, don’t worry.”

When her younger siblings worried about her, Juran would say the same thing as if it were a catchphrase. Although two decades had passed since the 1970s when she was in her twenties, even these days, it was still not easy for a woman over forty to get married.

That’s why Miran’s plan was to make a lot of money before her sister got any older.

She wanted to make Juran quit her job that paid a pittance, travel abroad together, and enjoy delicious food. It was Miran’s dream to pamper her sister like that.

However, it was not easy for an ordinary office worker to make a lot of money. But having graduated from the Department of Theater and Film, if Miran became a star in the entertainment industry, it was possible.

“Ahh shi.. what should I do…”

Miran writhed on the sofa.

The filming date was fast approaching, but she still hadn’t decided. She wanted to discuss it with Juran, but she knew what the answer would be.

Juran always warned her to be careful with her behavior, saying that a woman’s life could be ruined with one mistake. If Miran told her sister, who as like someone from the Joseon dynasty and had told her not to sleep with any lover before marriage, that she was going to appear naked in a movie that anyone—even the guy next door—could see, Juran might have a heart attack.

She must have fallen asleep while tossing and turning with no answer to her worries. She woke up with a start at the sound of the front door opening and looked around the dark living room.

“Oh, my back. At this rate, I’ll be dead before I turn fifty….”

The light in the entrance hall came on as Juran muttered and patted her back. With a mischievous grin, Miran jumped up from the sofa and screamed.

“Unni!”

“Oh my God!”

Juran, who was in the middle of taking off her shoes, was so startled that she flailed her arms and legs and fell to the floor. The sight was like a scene from a slapstick comedy, and Miran clutched her belly, laughing. But Juran stayed still, with her head hanging low, sitting on the spot.

Miran rushed over, worried that Juran might have hurt herself since she had complained about her back earlier.

“Unni, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“You little…!”

As soon as Miran helped her up, Juran grabbed Miran’s arm and started smacking her on the back.

“Ah, ah! It hurts!”