Unrequited Love Thresher-Chapter 54: The Meaning of Life

When the meaning of life begins to fade, humans feel emptiness and often find themselves thinking about depressing things.

Rather than recalling happy memories, they revisit the miseries of the past and fall into regret. As this repeats, they sink into self-loathing and guilt, degrading themselves until they finally come to harm themselves.

And the end of that line of choices is either survival—or death.

Some, standing at the edge of that extreme, manage to reclaim meaning and turn back. Others lose it entirely, are betrayed at the final moment, and give up on life.

Then what about Ha Giyeon? Before he returned, was he so unhappy that he felt driven out by his family, so miserable that he wanted to die?

There had been a time when he seriously considered death in his gosiwon. He’d sat, clutching his head, unable to believe that his parents had truly abandoned him, and regretted ever having been born. He wondered if dying might let him forget everything.

That ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ was the first time he dunked his face into a basin filled with water. Not knowing how to die properly, he’d simply chosen to block his breathing however he could.

No air to breathe, water rushing in. As he sank into it, all his miserable memories seemed to dissolve.

They say, when death approaches, you find peace.

It wasn’t true.

Both miserable memories—and happy ones—disappear. Nothing remains. In that emptiness, the only thought left is a desperate desire to live.

Remembering that sensation, Ha Giyeon had vowed to join the army. And now, that sensation returned to him once again.

“Puhah...!”

Water sloshed at the brim of the wide bathtub. Ha Giyeon raised his head from the water, coughing and gasping for breath. His body soaked in the cold water, his wet clothes clinging to his skin. Memories from before his return rushed back at high speed, and in the end, they always left him thinking the same thing—

That he wanted to live.

This was how Ha Giyeon brought himself back to life.

He climbed out of the tub, turned on the shower, and let the hot water run over him. The warmth gradually brought sensation back into his body. He etched into himself where he stood, the date, the time, the people in this house, the events of today, yesterday, and tomorrow.

When his memory was fully back in place, he shut off the water.

At the same time, he erased the person who had been lingering in his mind. The one who had appeared more than anyone else in his daily thoughts—Son Suhyeon.

Ironically, the fact that Suhyeon was the only one who came to mind after his return meant that he really had come to rely on him.

He couldn’t let the meaning of his life scatter. His goal was to break away from his brothers, leave this house quietly, and live on his own.

He couldn’t cling to human connections. In the end, they were all strangers.

He’d always known that, at least in his head—but only now, after doing all this, had it truly sunk in.

I thought I wouldn’t do this again after returning.

Ha Giyeon knew this was insane. But what else could he do?

Only when he got close to death did he find the will to live. This was the only way he knew how to survive.

***

I don’t have an appetite...

The day after soaking himself in the water, Ha Giyeon got ready for school as usual.

Just because he’d renewed his determination didn’t mean his life changed much. He’d always been alone—he just had to live as if he were back at the beginning, right after returning.

He stuffed an energy bar into his bag and left his room. The house was the same as always—dim and quiet.

His parents and brother would be getting up around now. Ha Giyeon was on his way out. As usual, he intended to slip out quietly after saying goodbye to the housekeeper.

“You’re up early.”

But today, he couldn’t.

A voice called out from the living room.

It wasn’t unfamiliar—but it wasn’t familiar either. His ears didn’t recognize it, but his body did. It remembered the voice.

Unease rushed up, and his body froze. His hands began to tremble.

Clenching his sweaty palm, he turned his head. There, sitting on the sofa with a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, was his father.

It wasn’t his mother or Ha Dohoon—it was his father, seated in the living room.

Startled by the sight, Ha Giyeon stood blankly for a moment. When his father shut the book with a loud snap, he came back to his senses. He knew better than to get caught in conversation. Avoiding his gaze, he lowered his head.

“Good morning.”

“I was wondering why you haven’t been at breakfast lately... So you leave for school at this hour, do you?”

“...Then I’ll be heading out first.”

“Stop.”

“...” frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

Ha Giyeon couldn’t defy his father’s words and remained rooted in place. His father stood from the sofa and slowly walked over. Giyeon, tense all over, couldn’t meet his eyes and kept his head bowed.

Even before returning, his father had been someone he feared.

He’d always wanted his father’s attention. But as he was more often met with scorn and contempt, that desire turned into fear. Especially in the end, when he’d gone to ask for help or when he was finally cast out—he never even got to see his father’s face.

That was why Giyeon came to see him as the most distant, most avoidable person in the world.

“Go have breakfast. Sit down.”

“...I...”

He tried to speak, but his father turned and went to his room without waiting for an answer. Giyeon, unable to go against his orders, held his churning stomach and headed for the kitchen. On the table were neatly prepared place settings. The housekeeper turned at the sound of footsteps—and jumped when she saw him.

“Oh my, Giyeon! You’re up early today.”

“Ah, it’s because of breakfast...”

Even without him saying anything, the housekeeper could tell from his face that he was here against his will.

She handed him a plate of sliced apples, telling him to have something at least, but instead of eating, Giyeon helped her. She told him he didn’t need to, but he insisted on carrying the side dishes to the table before finally sitting down.

She smiled and thanked him.

“Giyeon, have some salad.”

“Thank you. But there’s some already on the table...”

“That one has shrimp. This one doesn’t, so don’t worry.”

Grateful for her attentiveness, Ha Giyeon started chewing the salad. Just then, someone stepped into the kitchen.

Ha Dohoon, in his school uniform, entered with a sleepy expression—and blinked wide-eyed when he saw Giyeon.

“What are you...?”

But then he shut his mouth and sat down. He kept stealing glances at Giyeon, but didn’t say a word. Probably afraid that saying anything would make him leave the house again.

Giyeon didn’t pay him any attention. He was thinking about the morning’s class schedule.

Soon after, their mother entered.

“...!”

She, too, stared at Giyeon in surprise. Her eyes seemed to ask, Why are you here? Giyeon responded with a polite bow.

“...”

She stared at him for a moment, then sat down. As she kept persistently glancing his way, Giyeon tried not to meet her gaze. He didn’t know what she found so unacceptable—if she was going to ignore him like she used to, then why look at him like that? He had the feeling he wouldn’t be able to get up from this meal easily and started planning how to excuse himself.

“Good morning.”

That was when their father arrived.

He looked ready for work—wearing a spotless, expensive shirt and neatly combed hair that emphasized his sharp features.

Giyeon quickly dropped his gaze to avoid eye contact.

The housekeeper cleared away the salad and set down hot rice and soup.

Their father looked at Giyeon for a moment, then began eating. At the sound of utensils clinking, Giyeon quietly followed suit. The food she’d made really was delicious—but for some reason, he had no appetite at all. No matter how many times he sat at this breakfast table, it never felt normal. It wasn’t like they were holding a ritual for indigestion, so why did it always feel like this?

With a soft sigh, he put down his chopsticks. Just as Ha Dohoon seemed about to speak, the housekeeper approached.

“Does it not taste good?”

“Ah, no... Actually, would it be okay to have bread instead?”

It was wasteful to leave rice behind, but it was better than forcing it down, throwing it up, and needing medicine. Honestly, he just wanted to leave—but he couldn’t. It was bad enough that his father had seen him this morning, and both parents seemed in a foul mood. If he left the table abruptly, who knew what would happen this time?

When he asked for toast, the housekeeper quickly cleared the rice and soup and said she’d prepare it right away. His father, meanwhile, looked at him with clear disapproval.

“Such a hassle, this early in the morning...”

“...I’m sorry. Next time, I won’t—”

He was about to say he wouldn’t come to breakfast anymore, but the person beside him—Ha Dohoon—put down his spoon and said,

“I’ll have bread too.”