When Min-Hyuk was a child, before he even started elementary school, he was sent to live with his grandmother without being told why. He was at an age when the warmth of parents’ hands was essential, so, naturally, the absence of it made him cry a lot. Memories of throwing tantrums, acting stubborn, and getting angry at his grandmother came rushing back. He also recalled hiding under a blanket all day, crying and begging to be sent back home because he missed his parents so much. By the time adolescence came around, he had learned the truth—that his parents had abandoned him. But surprisingly, he felt nothing. His parents had him when they were too young, which caused conflicts in the family. His mother left home, while his father drowned himself in alcohol and eventually declared that he couldn’t handle raising a child. As a result, that responsibility fell to his grandmother. Later, his mother remarried and started a new family, and news came that his father had passed away from an acute myocardial infarction caused by alcohol abuse. When Min-Hyuk realized his grandmother was his only remaining family member, he matured more quickly than his peers. Financial struggles made it impossible to dream of attending college, so he chose to enlist in the military right after finishing high school. “My dear grandson, I won’t be able to see you off tomorrow...” his grandmother had said. Min-Hyuk couldn’t bring himself to ask his elderly grandmother, whose mobility was limited, to travel all the way to the training camp in Nonsan. Her frail body, hunched from age, her calloused hands, and her face lined with wrinkles lingered in his mind. He agonized over leaving her alone, but ultimately decided that finishing his service quickly and securing a stable job to provide for her would be the best way to show his gratitude. “If there’s anything you want to eat before you go, let me know, and I’ll make it for you.” He said he wanted fried chicken. The crispy fried chicken he’d occasionally had in school lunches or when his class president treated them on special occasions had left a lasting impression. “What’s this fried chicken...?” she had asked. Min-Hyuk explained that it was chicken fried in oil. However, his grandmother’s wallet was far from full. Though she received a pension from the government, it barely covered utilities and basic groceries. Scraping together enough money for Min-Hyuk’s travel expenses to Nonsan had already drained her funds. “I can’t afford that right now, my dear... But I promise I’ll get you some when you come home on vacation.” Min-Hyuk regretted bringing up fried chicken, feeling like he had burdened her unnecessarily. He didn’t care about the chicken—he only wished for his grandmother to have a long, healthy, and happy life. Once he completed training, he was assigned to his unit. His once delicate frame had been replaced by a muscular build, and he now carried himself with greater confidence. Life in the military wasn’t difficult for him; the real challenge was leaving his frail grandmother alone. Soon, it was time for his first three-day vacation after his assignment. The logistics officer approved his request, and his seniors ironed his uniform to perfection and polished his boots. They even pooled some of their modest salaries to give him a bit of spending money; they must have heard about his financial struggles. “Congrats! Your first vacation, huh? Treat your grandmother to some good food. She’s probably been waiting for this day.” Moved by their kindness, Min-Hyuk teared up. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by noⅴelfire.net Thanks to the support from his unit’s driver and duty officer, he left early the next morning, full of excitement, and boarded the first bus home. When he arrived at his house, he adjusted his clothes in the reflection of the blind spot mirror on the street, wanting to look his best. Standing in front of the old iron gate, he couldn’t help but smile. He imagined his grandmother running out barefoot at the sound of his voice. He planned to salute her smartly before bowing deeply to show how far he had come. Opening the gate, he walked into the yard with a pounding heart and called out confidently, “Grandma, I’m home!” But no matter how many times he called, she didn’t come out. Sliding open the door, he saw her lying under a blanket. She was usually an early riser, so he figured she must have been particularly tired. Smiling, he approached her. He gently shook her to wake her, but she didn’t stir. Perhaps she was just exhausted? “Grandma, it’s Min-Hyuk. I’m home.” He shook her again, but her complexion looked unusually pale. An overwhelming sense of dread swept over him. He started calling her name frantically, tapping her shoulder with his palm. Despite the summer heat, her body was ice-cold, devoid of any warmth—like a lifeless corpse. At that moment, he found himself struggling to breathe, so he pounded his chest with his fists. His eyes landed on a calendar on top of the dresser. The date for that day was circled, and next to it was a piece of paper with a map to a chicken shop called “Old-Fashioned Original Classic Fried Chicken” in Namdaemun Market. The sight made it even harder to breathe, and he began thumping his chest harder. That day, he was informed that his grandmother had quietly passed away in her sleep during the early hours. From that point on, Min-Hyuk couldn't bring himself to eat chicken anymore. Min-Hyuk thought it was about time he headed downstairs. He couldn’t eat chicken, but his guild members were waiting for him. He decided to just offer a few words of encouragement and stick to drinking beer. As he got up, his phone buzzed with a text notification. It was from Do-Jun. Do-Jun: Are you free right now? With a heavy step, Min-Hyuk stopped in front of an old iron gate. He gently brushed his hand against the old, rusty nameplate hanging beside the weathered iron gate. Although faded, it clearly read, Kim Wol-Soon. It was his first time visiting this old house in years. Min-Hyuk couldn’t understand why Do-Jun had asked him to come here. How did Do-Jun know about this place? Did he know whose house it was? The iron gate groaned softly as he pushed it open. With a deep sigh, Min-Hyuk hesitated before stepping over the threshold and into the yard. In front of him stood the sliding paper door, tightly shut. For some inexplicable reason, he felt as if his grandmother might be lying inside, just as he remembered her. His eyes grew moist. “Grandma,” he murmured, staring at the door. “I’m back, Grandma.” His voice echoed into the empty silence like an unanswered call. With a bitter smile, Min-Hyuk pulled out his smartphone and looked for Do-Jun’s name in his contacts. He hovered over the call button but couldn’t bring himself to press it. Then, the paper door slid open, and he heard a joyful welcome. “Oh, my dear grandson, you’re home!” The phone slipped from Min-Hyuk’s trembling hands as he stared at the person walking out of the room in a hurry, barefoot. It was an elderly woman, slightly hunched over, who clasped his hands with hers. Min-Hyuk’s lips quivered. His throat tightened, and words failed him. There she was, just as he remembered her from ten years ago. This was the face he had longed to see in his dreams. “My sweet grandson, you’ve had such a hard time. Oh dear, you’ve grown so thin,” she said, her calloused hands gently caressing his. Was this an illusion? It had to be. His grandmother had passed away ten years ago. There was no way she could be here. Yet the sensation was so vivid. How? He pinched his cheek. It hurt. “Come inside, dear. I bought some fried chicken.” Led by her hand, he took off his shoes and stepped up onto the porch. The floorboards creaked beneath him as they walked into the living room. On the tin dining table was a box of chicken labeled “Old-Fashioned Original Classic Fried Chicken.” His grandmother opened it and started tearing the pieces apart with her hands, placing them on his plate. “It was warm earlier, but it’s gone a bit cold. If I’d known, I would’ve waited to buy it after you arrived,” she said, placing the chicken on his plate and separating the crispy skin from the meat. “I’ll keep taking the bones off, so eat up.” Min-Hyuk’s eyes brimmed with tears. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, smiling faintly. “Grandma, fried chicken tastes better when you eat the skin and meat together.” “Oh my, is that so?” With a chuckle, she added the skin back to his plate. Min-Hyuk picked up a piece and put it in his mouth. As she had said, the chicken was cold, but it didn’t matter. In fact, mixed with his tears and sniffles, the flavor was indistinct. He ate piece after piece, crying as he stuffed the chicken into his mouth. “My dear, why are you crying? Is it not good?” she asked. “No... It’s really... really good.” “Did someone bully you? Or is the training too hard...?” “No, it’s not hard at all. My seniors are all really kind. They even ironed my uniform and polished my boots when I was leaving for this vacation. They pooled their money to make sure I had a good time during my break. So... please don’t worry about me.” But Min-Hyuk couldn’t finish the chicken. Not because he was full, but because he felt that taking the last bite would cause his grandmother to disappear. He set down his plate, stood up, and looked at her. “Why did you stop eating?” she asked. Silently, he lowered himself to the floor and bowed deeply. Startled by his sudden act of reverence, Kim Wol-Soon looked confused. “Grandma... thank you. Thank you so much for raising me. I’m sorry for being such a troublemaker when I was young. I wouldn’t be here without you, and I am who I am today because of you.” Kim Wol-Soon’s initial surprise softened into a warm smile. The little boy she had once cared for had grown taller than her and matured into a fine young man. And what a handsome man he had become—surely, there wasn’t anyone as dashing as her grandson. “My sweet grandson... you’ve grown so much.” “Yes, I did, Grandma!” Min-Hyuk kept his forehead pressed to the floor, afraid to show his tear-streaked face. “I can rest easy now...” Kim Wol-Soon chuckled softly. When Min-Hyuk finally lifted his head, he saw her figure fading. But her gaze wasn’t on him—it was fixed beyond the sliding paper door. “Thank you, young man,” she said, her voice faint. And then she was gone. Min-Hyuk wiped away his tears and turned around. Placing his palm on the spot where his grandmother had been sitting, he felt a lingering warmth. He then stood up and stepped outside. “Did you get to say everything you wanted to?” Do-Jun asked. Do-Jun stood by the tiny dining table, his gaze on the fried chicken left atop it. He said, “Perhaps she felt regret over an unfulfilled promise she made... But now, I believe she can move on peacefully, knowing her grandson has grown so well.” Min-Hyuk nodded faintly. Do-Jun looked at him quietly and asked, “And you? Have you let go of the burdens in your heart?” Tears welled up in Min-Hyuk’s eyes once more. “Yes, I did...” “That’s good to hear.” Do-Jun thought of Kim Wol-Soon standing outside a fried chicken shop, watching with delight as her grandson ate. That image of her smiling warmly would stay with him for a long time.