WW | Chapter 18

“You filthy scoundrel, how dare you talk nonsense to my precious granddaughter? I ought to yank that tongue of yours out and pickle it as a side dish!”

Grandmother Kyeong Ja, who had heard the commotion from a neighbor, came storming in, spewing curses. She raised her skinny, bony fists and began pounding on the thug’s arms and chest. She knew these people were ruthless, treating human life as casually as one would a fly, and of course, she was scared. But seeing her beloved granddaughter being harassed made her so angry that she forgot her fear. After all, Yul was her only remaining family, her entire world. People often said Yul resembled Kyeong Ja in personality, and now she realized they were right.

“This old hag, spending her whole life roughing it in the marketplace—just look at that nasty temper.”

“As nasty as my temper may be, it’s still nothing compared to yours, you scum,” she shot back, not backing down.

“You crazy old bat!”

The thug, now enraged, pushed Grandmother Kyeong Ja forcefully. The scene unfolded in a split second. Her frail body toppled to the ground, unable to get up, her breaths coming in painful gasps.

“Grandma!” Yul cried, rushing to hold her grandmother. Even as she gasped for air, Kyeong Ja continued to glare at the thug, forcing out curses through her labored breaths. She muttered he’d be struck down by lightning, cursed him for being a thug, and warned him not to dare say another vile word to her granddaughter.

Seeing her grandmother hurt made Yul’s emotions shift. Anger and frustration turned to a sharp fear. As the thug had said, in their world, there was no law, no mercy, no basic human decency. Only money, money, and more money. Until she gave them what they wanted, Yul and her grandmother would continue to be tossed around like dried leaves.

The thug crouched down in front of Kyeong Ja, grabbing a handful of her silver hair with a twisted sneer.

“Aah!” Her head wrenched back, Kyeong Ja groaned, her eyes rolling up in pain. In that moment, Yul’s fear vanished, replaced with rage. She could tolerate threats toward herself, but not violence against her grandmother. Yul immediately lunged forward and bit down hard on the thug’s wrist.

“Argh, you little—!” he screamed, releasing Kyeong Ja and shoving Yul away. Her courage, though fierce, was powerless, and both Yul and her grandmother ended up crumpled on the floor, writhing in pain.

“Are you two trying to get yourselves killed?”

“Hey, hey, enough already,” the thug’s companion intervened, pulling him back as he raised a foot to kick them. The thug spat on the ground, glaring at the two women.

“Listen, old hag. This time, we’ll let it slide. But next time we come, make sure to have the interest ready, or we’ll be taking your precious granddaughter with us. We’re letting you off this lightly only because of the past work with Chairman Seomun. Got it?” After delivering his threat, he shoved Kyeong Ja’s head roughly.

“Hrk!”

“Grandma!” Yul hugged her fallen grandmother tightly, glaring at the thug. A string of curses filled her mouth, but she held them back, knowing that saying anything now would only make things worse.

Tears of frustration welled up. She hated crying in front of others, especially in front of these thugs, but the bleakness of their future made her break down. Sobbing, she buried her face in her grandmother’s bony hands as Kyeong Ja stroked her hair, whispering, “It’s okay, Yul, don’t cry, my dear.” Her grandmother’s comforting words only made Yul cry harder. Through her blurry vision, she imagined the snake tattoo around the thug’s neck writhing to life. She had no idea how to escape this nightmare.

In the dead of night, Yul awoke with a filthy feeling. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was 2 a.m. She must have fallen asleep while studying, exhausted. Her heart still pounded with residual fear, as if the line between dream and reality had blurred. The textbook where her face had rested was soaked with tears. Reaching for a tissue, she noticed her window was open a sliver. A chill ran down her spine. Outside, a man knelt by the window, peering in with wide, gleaming eyes.

He was panting, making disturbing sounds, his pants down, exposing himself. The sight was filthy, horrifying, and sent a wave of nausea through her.

“Aaah!” Unable to hold it in, Yul screamed.

“We’re tracking him with CCTV. We’ll catch him soon. You must have been really frightened.” The police officer, who had arrived after her call, jotted notes in his pad. Red and blue lights from the police car parked outside cast flashing colors on the window. Yul’s mind swirled. Those lights symbolized disorder, flashing when something wrong, something beyond normal had happened. She clung tightly to her grandmother’s arm, unable to calm down.

“It’s okay, dear. Don’t worry,” Kyeong Ja comforted her, patting her arm gently. She turned to the officer with a plea in her eyes. “Please, officer, you have to catch him. I can’t sleep, thinking he might come back.”

“We’ll do our best, ma’am. But these perverts are everywhere, so make sure to lock your windows and doors well. They have a knack for finding houses with only women in them.”

“How can people like that even exist? If I get my hands on him, I’ll cut off his bits and feed them to the dogs!”

“Yes, yes, of course. Anyway, please keep your windows closed at night and lock everything up tight. We’ll increase patrols in the area.” After several warnings, the police left. In the quiet that returned to their home, Yul felt more than fear—she felt a profound sadness. Poverty dragged everything down, as if shackling her with filth, worry, sickness, and despair. Would it ever end? Or was it just going to get worse with time?

Overwhelmed by exhaustion, Yul crawled under her blanket. On any other day, she would’ve tried to stay awake to watch over her grandmother, but tonight, even lifting a finger felt impossible. Her grandmother, as if sensing her unease, cut off the head of a fly swatter and wedged the handle between the window frame as an extra lock. It was a feeble measure, and Yul knew a single crack in the glass would render it useless. But her grandmother’s tender attempt to protect her stirred something inside her.

“Were you scared, my child? Look at you, sweating so much.” Her grandmother lay beside her, stroking her forehead. The roughness of her grandmother’s calloused hands brought a new wave of tears. Yul burrowed into her grandmother’s arms, feeling the pent-up sorrow burst free.

“I’ll chase away any ghosts or monsters, my dear. Just rest easy and sleep.”

“Mm,” Yul mumbled, her voice muffled and nasal. When she couldn’t hold back her tears any longer, her grandmother joined in, and together, they cried.

Afterward, her grandmother prayed until Yul drifted into sleep, assuring her that everything would eventually be okay, that everything would pass in time.

Her grandmother warned her to be careful today, saying bad dreams were a sign to tread lightly. After the terrifying events of the night, Yul felt unsettled from the moment she woke up. She thought about skipping school but forced herself to go, knowing she needed to keep her attendance up. She had already missed a lot at her previous school due to stress.

Aware that her emotional state was fragile, Yul was extra cautious throughout the day. She avoided crossing paths with Choi Seohui’s group and feigned illness by laying her head down to avoid snapping at Jieun. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t avoid everything. During fourth period, the sixth and seventh classes were scheduled to play volleyball together, and as if fate were taunting her, Park Geonju showed up.

“They’re dropping the charges on Geonju’s fifth offense,” Jieun said, tucking her blouse into a locker in the changing room. She had come in late on purpose, leaving only five minutes before the gym class started. Only two or three other students had been there, and now it was just Yul and Jieun.

“How’d they manage that?”

“They must have spent a ton of money. I thought he was actually caught this time, but they managed to pull him out.”

“I see.”

Jieun’s grumbling tone made Yul smile bitterly. Last night, she’d been crushed under the weight of poverty, and now, through Geonju’s story, she saw the power of money. Some people, like her, had to live in fear of strange men lurking in the night because they had nothing, while others, like Geonju, could buy their way out of any situation, no matter how low they fell. The world was unfair.

“Are you okay?” Jieun asked, noticing Yul’s dark expression.

“I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

“Honestly, Yul, you should stop working part-time. It’s not like you’re making much from it.”

“What?”

“If you didn’t buy clothes or snack so much, you’d save just as much. Overworking yourself is just going to end with you spending more on hospital bills. I’m just saying this because I care.”

Jieun’s innocent expression rendered Yul speechless. To Jieun, a few dollars might seem like pocket change, but Yul knew all too well what those dollars meant. Her words had stung, but Jieun looked so oblivious that Yul didn’t even know how to respond.

Let it go, Yul told herself, forcing a bitter smile and looking away. Their lives and perspectives were so different that explaining her reality would feel pointless and humiliating. Jieun hadn’t meant any harm, so it was easier to just let it slide.