The newborn room, where I can barely see the other side through the tightly frosted glass, holds babies whose genders I can’t even distinguish, all with swollen faces and closed eyes.
This place is an inviolable zone, where not only outsiders like us but even family members cannot enter.
Together with my sister’s husband, Uncle Dae Han, we just stared at the scene beyond the glass of the newborn room.
Escaping from the filthy, malicious world of the internet, seeing babies lying there with cheeks that look like they could burst if poked brings a sense of purification to my heart.
“Which one is your sister’s baby?”
“That one, the baby lying on that far bed.”
In response to Shiyeon’s question, Uncle Dae Han pointed with his finger to a bed deep inside the glass.
It was too far to see the face, only a small shape inside the bed was visible.
Contrary to Uncle Dae Han’s expectations of a daughter, it was a son.
Still, it didn’t seem to matter much; his mouth seemed to stretch from ear to ear.
Unlike the strong preference for sons in the 50s and 60s, it doesn’t matter whether it’s a boy or a girl; if it’s your own child, it’s all good.
“What name did you decide on?”
“Juwon, isn’t that strange?”
“It’s fine.”
After hearing the name Juwon in response to the question about the name, I briefly considered the surname and soon answered.
Following the father’s surname, is this the Juwon? It’s not an unusual name for a boy.
At least by the time he reaches middle or high school, I can’t imagine him quarreling with his parents over a name change.
It’s not like his name overlaps with some girl celebrity’s name or has an odd, old-fashioned vibe.
Shiyeon pressed her face against the glass, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at the face of the baby sleeping closest to her.
“He’s so cute.”
“Purifying, indeed.”
Just as Shiyeon said, the babies indeed seem cute.
Simply watching them brings peace to my heart.
In stark contrast to the viewers’ feelings, the nurses tending to the newborns on the other side of the glass moved about in a way that seemed far from comfort, busily wearing masks.
I want to poke those cheeks that look ready to burst with just a finger, but that’s impossible while I’m in the newborn room.
In about a year, won’t there be a baby’s first birthday party?
Modern society is filled with the money-draining chores.
“Your sister probably won’t be able to see them today, huh?”
“Yeah, probably. I’m just grateful she came.”
“She’ll be discharged soon, right?”
“Yeah, I think so. I looked into postpartum care centers, but Jiun almost fainted when she saw the costs.”
As Uncle Dae Han spoke about the postpartum care center I had only heard of, he placed his hand on his painfully straight waist and lowered his head slightly, looking somewhat wistful.
Seeing that, I casually searched for ‘postpartum care costs’ online.
The first newspaper article I saw stated that the cost for two weeks could be as high as 38 million won and as low as 1.9 million won.
‘That’s an eye-popping price.’
As I clicked my tongue at the steep and bitter reality, I spammed the back button on my smartphone and returned to the home screen.
Even if the lowest cost for two weeks is 1.9 million won, isn’t that about 130,000 to 140,000 won a day?
If that is the lowest, then the average must be in the hundreds.
It’s an amount that practically eats up an office worker’s entire monthly salary.
Not wanting to keep staring at the other side of the glass, I began to prepare to leave, and Uncle Dae Han smiled gently, seeing us off at the exit.
“Anyway, thanks for coming to see us today… and please take good care of our Juwon later.”
“Yes.”
“Sure!”
With sightseeing done, I answered cheerfully and headed out of the hospital.
Upon returning home and checking my messenger app, I found Jiun had sent a message saying she would call me over to see the baby.
Amidst the puzzling absence of monster appearances, I still have to go to school.
Fifth-grade school life allowed for a more ordinary experience compared to the lower grades.
“Mary, aren’t you participating in dodgeball?”
“Yes.”
“Is Mary not playing?”
More than anything, this season seems to be when the boundaries of gender have become clearer compared to the early grades, even as students begin gaining common sense through sex education classes.
Boys who used to play well with girls are starting to play only with boys, and girls are starting to only play with girls.
At the same time, teachers’ consideration for female students also seems to be increasing.
During free time, boys play soccer, and girls play dodgeball.
Even that now offers the chance to choose whether to participate—what a sweet break.
I usually just fetch the balls that roll far away from the field and toss them back.
What had been a torturous physical education class now felt like an extended break.
Fifth-grade math is slowly entering the territory of fractions.
So far, all the problems can be resolved easily with common sense.
‘Did I give up on math starting in middle school….’
Thinking back to the last memory of math from my previous life, I tried to recall at what point I could understand it.
Maintaining good grades with knowledge unsuitable for my age isn’t going to last much longer.
Remembering that I won’t be able to get treated as an honor student for much longer, I shouldered my backpack and kicked my indoor shoe bag on my way home while yawning.
Now there’s no one to walk home with.
I just give myself allowances with the money that comes out of Shiyeon’s bank account, and I take care of my own business, returning home after hanging out with friends.
“Mary, aren’t you doing Ansta?”
While I tinkered with the computer, a question floated up from the floor.
The community Shiyeon has been into recently is Ansta.
Photos of luxurious living, special menu items from restaurants, and dishes that look beautiful or impressive, regardless of whether they are delicious, are often uploaded to this community.
It’s known to be a community that many women use, and I have only heard of it by name.
In response to Shiyeon’s question, I honestly reacted.
“That’s all fake.”
“Still, it’s pretty.”
As she said that, Shiyeon scrolled down rapidly from above.
Some posts caught her eye as she pressed the like button repeatedly.
For a guy, it’s like watching a favorite webtoon.
As I silently stared at the screen, it appeared she was uploading photos taken in the United States a year ago.
Then, in the post’s content, she appeared to be scribbling as if she were still in America.
‘That’s fake.’
Repeating my earlier thoughts inside my head, I just watched without commenting on her actions.
Looks like Shiyeon is just as obsessed with hearts in the community.
A few days later, the much-anticipated meeting with Juwon began.
Though I knew it, I had never physically been to the home of the two people.
It was a 7-stop ride on the rarely used village bus.
An apartment complex where buildings that seemed to reach about 20 floors were clustered together.
As we wandered around looking for Building 201, we spotted the clearly marked ‘201’ sign and headed there.
“What number did they say?”
Inside the shared entrance, a neat corridor and an elegant warm yellow light greeted us.
Shiyeon’s finger paused in front of the intercom for room 201.
“What was the number….”
At Shiyeon’s sudden questioning, I pulled out my smartphone to check the messenger app.
There, the number 601 was the most recent message.
“Oh, 601.”
Just as Shiyeon got the answer and reached for the intercom to press the number, a thick hand suddenly intruded from the side and wordlessly held up a small card to the intercom.
With a beep, the shared entrance door opened abruptly.
Feeling a bit awkward, we followed silently behind.
In the elevator, I pressed the button for the 6th floor, while Uncle pressed the button for the 17th.
As the numbers slowly changed through 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and the movement ground to a halt, we stood before the entrance.
With a soft whoosh, the doors opened, and we searched for room 601.
“It’s here!”
“Press the bell.”
I pressed the doorbell button instead while Shiyeon hesitated.
The familiar tone of ‘Für Elise’ began as the default ringtone.
The sound, which I hadn’t heard to completion, was quickly cut off as footsteps sounded from inside and the door opened.
It wasn’t Jiun welcoming us but her husband, Uncle.
Upon seeing us, he immediately pointed a finger to his lips, signaling us to be quiet.
As he ushered us in, he gestured for us to come inside.
“Welcome.”
In a whispering voice, Jiun welcomed us.
The sight of the small baby resting in a wrap in the center of the living room was incredibly striking.
“Wash your hands, the bathroom is over there.”
After washing our hands amidst the flowing water, we returned to the living room.
I gazed in wonder at the baby, who hadn’t even begun to babble.
Jiun lifted Juwon, who was covered with a blanket.
With eyes slightly open, the dark pupils just barely visible, he looked at us as if he were awake.
“Hi.”
My voice unintentionally softened as I carefully extended my finger toward the baby’s small hand.
The instinct of a baby to grasp whatever enters its palm.
“Oh? He’s smiling, he’s smiling.”
Then, Juwon suddenly opened his eyelids slightly, revealing a full smile.
What was so exciting, Juwon, a one-month-old baby, drooled as he showed his tiny tongue.
