Page 61 of Perfect Happiness

Eun-ho’s narrow eyes widened in shock. All the things that could have made her snap flashed before his eyes. The pictures he stole from her phone, the recording of his and Min-young’s conversation, the email thread with his ex-wife.

“Didn’t you say that the phone call earlier this morning was from your lawyer?

Didn’t you say you were going to meet him?

I tried calling the number back. A very familiar voice answered.

I didn’t know Jinu went to law school. I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say.

But he was desperately calling out your name.

Eun-ho Cha! Say something! Eun-ho Cha! It’s Jinu! ”

Wife started cackling. It was that same cackle he heard at Lake Baikal, the same laugh that made all the hair on his body stand up. But right now, his hair stood up for a different reason. It stood up because he realized Wife had finally lost it.

“But you know what, honey?”

Wife’s laughing stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

“Why did you call Jane earlier this morning? She didn’t pick up, but you called her ten times in a row.”

What did she mean? Eun-ho was confused for a moment, but then he remembered what happened that morning. Jiyoo had borrowed his cellphone to make a call. She must have called Yuna’s sister, Jane. But why hadn’t Jane answered her phone?

“What could be so important that you would call my sister ten times in a row? And since when were you and Jane so close? Are you fucking my sister? Don’t tell me there’s another secret I don’t know!”

With every question, Wife’s voice was getting higher and higher.

Eun-ho looked around with blurry vision.

The only thing that Wife’s headlamp was illuminating was the snow on the ground.

In desperation, he focused all his attention on his ears.

But he heard no police sirens over the sound of the snow and wind.

The earth seemed completely devoid of people and animals.

It was just him, and this hysterical woman.

“So that got me thinking. I want to compose a masterpiece, something that will really knock the socks off the police. A story of star-crossed lovers, an adulterous man and his whore of a sister-in-law, who tragically commit suicide by drowning themselves. What do you think?”

The abandoned car down the street appeared in Eun-ho’s mind. The blue SUV covered in snow.

Then finally, Eun-ho realized that the loon in the attic wasn’t Joon-young; it was Jane.

And then he found the last piece to the puzzle. Yuna was taking him to the Half Moon Marsh to die.

*

A loon was crying just like before. But unlike that night, something scratched the wall between each call. The sound wasn’t very loud. It was secretive, like someone was trying to whisper in her ear, coaxing her to come closer.

Jiyoo pulled the blanket over her head. She covered her ears so she wouldn’t hear the sounds. But it was no use. The sound was too close. It was just beyond the wall next to her bed.

Every time the loon cried, Jiyoo’s legs twitched.

And every time it scratched at the wall, her tummy felt funny, just like when she felt nervous.

Jiyoo thought about what happened when she came upstairs with Mother a few hours ago.

Mother had stopped in front of Jiyoo’s door and given her a command.

“Jiyoo, go to the bathroom.”

Jiyoo looked toward the bathroom, then back at Mother. She didn’t understand what she meant.

“Brush your teeth, wash your face and feet, and go potty.”

“Yes,” Jiyoo said, even though she still didn’t understand. Jiyoo could wash up after Mother went back downstairs. Why did Mother have to wait for her?

“You won’t be able to use the bathroom again until tomorrow.”

This explanation confused Jiyoo even more, but she did as she was told and went into the bathroom.

Mother stood at the door to Jiyoo’s bedroom until she came back out.

She looked lost in thought. Even as Jiyoo walked up to her, Mother seemed unaware.

Only when Jiyoo called out to her did she finally regain her emotionless composure.

“Mother—”

“Done?”

“Yes.”

Mother opened the bedroom door. Jiyoo went in first.

“Why do you think I followed you up here?” Mother asked Jiyoo as she closed the door behind her.

“Because I haven’t—”

Jiyoo stopped mid-sentence and looked down at her feet. She knew the answer, but she was afraid to say it.

“What?” Mother wanted a complete answer.

“Because I haven’t been punished.”

“Then you know what must happen now, don’t you?”

Jiyoo closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. She suppressed the urge to ask for forgiveness and said the words Mother wanted to hear, even though it killed her to say them.

“I must be punished.”

Silence filled the room for a moment. But that moment was cold and unbearable, as though she were standing in the middle of a snowstorm.

“Everyone makes mistakes—” Mother finally said, breaking the silence. “I want to believe that this was a mistake, your first mistake.”

Jiyoo stared up at Mother as she took one step toward Jiyoo. Jiyoo was confused. Was she going to forgive Jiyoo without punishing her? Or was she going to forgive her by punishing her?

“Jiyoo, did you bring Dad Puppet here with you?”

Jiyoo glanced furtively at the suitcase placed next to the desk. She couldn’t lie. Even if it meant that Mother would take him away. After all, Mother would have looked in her bag when she brought it upstairs.

“Yes.”

“Give it to me.”

Jiyoo turned her body and crouched next to the suitcase. She laid it on the ground and took out Dad Puppet, which was hidden underneath one of her sweaters. She looked it once in the eyes to say goodbye. Thank you .

“What are you doing?” Mother asked. She pressed Jiyoo to hand it over. Jiyoo stood up and handed Mother the puppet.

“Where did you find him?” Mother asked as she took him.

“I . . . couldn’t sleep . . . so I . . .”

Jiyoo could feel her cheeks starting to glow bright red. She was embarrassed to admit what she did because she knew it was embarrassing. It wasn’t easy talking about something embarrassing without being embarrassed.

“I’m not mad at you. I just want you to tell me the truth.”

“I waited for you to fall asleep then I left my room.”

Jiyoo took a deep breath. She said the rest of it as though she were spitting out toothpaste:

“And then I took the key out of the dresser in the hallway and went into the attic.”

“I see. So, if you hadn’t left your room, none of this would have happened. Right?”

Probably. Yes, if she hadn’t left her room, she wouldn’t have stolen Dad Puppet.

“Then can you try tonight not to leave your room?”

Jiyoo looked up at Mother without answering. She didn’t understand what she meant.

“It’s my test to you. If you can stay in your room until tomorrow morning, I’ll forgive you.”

A test. Forgiveness. Jiyoo swallowed the saliva that was collecting beneath her tongue.

“And as a present, I will give you this puppet.”

“Really? He’ll be all mine?”

Jiyoo doubted she heard Mother correctly.

“Yes,” Mother answered. “And if you don’t pass my test, do you know what will happen?”

“I won’t be forgiven. And I won’t get a present.”

As soon as Jiyoo answered, she realized why Mother had told her to go to the bathroom before going into her room.

“And what does it mean if you won’t be forgiven?”

Jiyoo didn’t want to say the word orphanage. Words were powerful, and sometimes all one needed to do was say them for it to become a reality.

“You don’t know?” Mother asked.

“I—”

Jiyoo searched her mind for what would come next. She wanted to find words that would convey the meaning of orphanage without using the word orphanage.

“I won’t be able to live with you. And I won’t be able to live with Grandma either.”

“Right. So, I’ll ask you again. Can you stay in your room tonight?”

Jiyoo found nothing hard about this. In fact, to her, it seemed like a piece of cake. How many times had she spent all day in her room?

“Yes.”

“And if I call you, what will you do?”

This was a very hard question. Jiyoo thought what the correct answer was. Jiyoo brought her hands together and prayed that she had the right answer.

“I won’t leave my room. Not until tomorrow morning. No matter what.”

“Good.” Mother pointed to the bed with her eyes. “Well, you should get ready for bed then.”

Jiyoo changed into her pajamas and got into bed. Mother turned off the light and left the room. Soon, Jiyoo heard footsteps going down the stairs. It was then that the loon started calling her from beyond the wall. It was almost as if the loon had been waiting for Mother to leave.

Jiyoo turned to lie on her side. The longer she lay in bed, the less sleepy she felt.

After a while, she could pick out each sound individually.

The wind, the snow pelting the window, the maple tree’s branches whacking against each other, Mother’s footsteps as she walked around downstairs, Mother’s shouting, something heavy—like a steal ball—rolling across the wood floor, the front door opening and closing.

And then eventually, she heard the front gate opening.

Jiyoo pulled back the sheets and sat up in bed. Mischievous Mouse, which had been quiet for some time now, poked its head out. And with a voice as sweet as honey, it started whispering in her ear.

Think carefully about what Mother said. She said not to leave the room, but she never said you couldn’t leave your bed. Right?

Once Jiyoo thought about it, she realized Mischievous Mouse was right. She could walk around the room all she liked. And even though the lights were turned off, the room wasn’t very dark. The white snow and the light in the front yard provided more than enough light to move around.