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“Aaaaargh!”
The same dream again.
In which what had happened three months ago recurred every night.
On a daily basis I awoke from sleep, recalling the dread moment of death just as vividly.
It was like enduring unspeakable hardships…
I would only hope this dream would not recur for life.
A little before 6.
I sat up in bed before the alarm went off; I had set it for 6.
I slipped out of bed and took my pajamas off. I went in the bathroom, adjacent to my bedroom and had a quick shower.
I changed into my school uniform and stepped out of the bedroom. In another room across from mine, my brother was sound asleep.
Descending stairs into the living room, I could smell delectable scents floating from the kitchen. Bean sprouts soup.
In the kitchen, a middle-aged maid was prepping breakfast.
Bean sprouts soup was largely a repeat of the breakfast menu as my father would be plastered every day and the soup was his favorite hangover cure.
As I walked out the front door, the green grass was glittering, soaking up the sun.
I bent over to pick up three papers that were sprawled out on the grass, then quietly went upstairs to my bedroom.
I read through two of them, one was a daily paper and the other was a financial one.
A big picture of a protest shrouded with tear gas and firebombs appeared on the front page of the daily paper. Dated 26th June, 1987.
Today, 29th, the protest continued, and it would not abate until the military regime surrendered.
As I finished reading and folded the papers,
“Do-jun,” the middle-aged maid stood at the door, knocking.
She brought me a glass of milk and a cup of coffee.
For three months, I had been called by the name.
Jin Do-jun.
That I was still not accustomed to.
“You don’t have to bring them up here. I could go downstairs…” I said.
“I know you could, but if your parents caught you drinking coffee, they would tell you off,” she said.
I thanked her.
With a fond look on her face, she watched me sipping my coffee.
She liked how I all of a sudden had been transformed from a spoiled brat into a respectable 10-year-old:
I honoured elders, was not fussy about food and helped clean up the house.
She couldn’t help liking me.
“Oh, you know today is your grandfather’s birthday? You are going to have dinner at his place,” she said, then grabbing the empty glass, empty cup, and the folded papers, walked out the door.
At last, today.
Three months after having been reincarnated as 10-year-old Jin Do-jun, I finally got a chance to meet my grandfather, Jin Yang-cheol, founder and chairman of Sunyang.
I had never met him in my past life, but today I, his grandson, was going to sit down to dinner with him.
66-year-old grandfather and 10-year-old grandson.
What does it mean to have been reborn as a grandson of Sunyang’s founder, whose eldest son killed me?
Has god granted me an opportunity of revenge?
Or one of forgiving them as they are now my family?


Oddly enough, it was a quiet breakfast.
My usually loquacious 12-year-old brother, Jin Sang-jun, without saying a word, stuffed food into his mouth.
My hangovered father ate small spoonfuls of the soup.
And…
Oh!
My beautiful mother.
She was far much more beautiful than the Ferrari lady!
She was the same as Olivia Hussey, star of Romeo and Juliet, and she had been an acclaimed actress called Olivia Hussey of Korea.
In the early 1970’s, as soon as she debuted in a film, she rose to stardom. She married one of her big fans and disappeared from the big screen.
That lucky man was my father, Jin Yun-ki, 5th son of my grandfather, Jin Yang-cheol.
Their marriage had been called one of the greatest love stories of the century.
At this time, Sunyang was expanding its business into the electronics field, catching up with Japan.
Even if she had been an actress of exceptional beauty, she was, no more, no less, just an ordinary housewife in the Sunyang chaebol.
The grandfather was opposed their marriage at first, stating that he would have the father’s name deleted from the family register, but ended up accepting their marriage as there was a baby growing inside my mother’s belly.
I had known these details of the chaebol family in my past life, and some of them were discovered through experience.
The family excluded my father from a lot of things.
The grandfather had remained angry with the father until the day he died, and when the eldest son inherited Sunyang, my father got very small shares.
When other brothers quarreled over the inheritance, my father just watched them from a distance.
Even if for ordinary people, the very small shares were a large amount of money, he sure as hell was not greedy.
“Do-jun,” mother said.
“Yes?”
“Why so startled?”
She was still beautiful in her middle-thirties.
Whenever I looked at her face closely, my face reddened.
“Nothing,” I said.
“I’m more startled. You seem like a different person,” she said with a chuckle.
Three months ago, when I awoke from death I was deathly startled: back in 30 years ago, in the body of Sunyang founder’s youngest grandson.
Over time, I got accustomed to me, Do-jun, but it was hard to develop friendly feelings toward them, my parents.
The father was 38 years old, 2 years younger than the age at which I had been killed.
I could not bear to call them dad and mom, but now I could barely manage to call them father and mother.


“I’m not going!”
My brother Sang-jun slammed his spoon down on the table, pouting his lips.
I could guess why he was being pettish.
The parents’ faces hardened but couldn’t tell him off.
He sure as hell didn’t like the grandfather.
Well…
He was the reason why the grandfather was compelled to accept our parents’ marriage.
So he could not be viewed favorably.
Although I would understand his feeling, his behavior at the table was not understandable.
I needed to correct his behavior, for this reason I would not want to be despised by the grandfather.
“I promise, as soon as we finish dinner, we’ll come home, okay?” father said, in a gentle voice. The mother soothed him with a sorry look on her face, but he sulked for a while.
After school, let’s see what happens. I will break you of that bad habit!


Our driver got behind the wheel, and I and the brother sat in the backseat of the luxury sedan, and he was pulling a long face, not very talkative.
The school we attend was a distinguished private one, full of the children of chaebol families and of judicial officers.
Our classmates were future chairman, future politicians, and future ministers. It appeared that our future depended largely upon our fellowship with them.
They traveled to the school by car, not school bus. They were dropped off a short walk away from the school as they would not want to be seen as stuck-up or a show-off.
But they would soon realize that they were the blessed ones who could inherit the power and the money, and would reign over others.
Arseholes.
Anyhow, I waited until the school finished.
I was intensely curious about their youth. The founder of Sunyang and those whom I had served.


When I got home from school, I found this spoiled brat, Sang-jun.
“Can’t you knock?” he snapped without turning back around, playing on his game console.
You small thing.
I sneaked up behind him.
I kicked the chair and toppled him to the floor with a heavy thud.
“Don’t you dare say anything,” I said in a low voice.
I grabbed his hair and dragged him into the bathroom.


“What happened to your hand?” mother asked, taken aback.
She noticed my hand was swollen and red.
She, close to tears, applied an ice pack to my hand.
“I’m all right, mother. I… scalded it with hot water while taking a shower,” I said to comfort her.
“Are you sure you are all right?” she asked, in a soft, concerned voice.
She felt much relieved after the family doctor came and examined my hand.


I rattled the doorknob to check it was locked after shoving Sang-jun into the bathroom. I twisted the hot water knob and grabbed the shower head. I threatened him with the scalding water, fogging up the inside, which must have been terrifying for the pampered 12-year-old.
Making him give in was a piece of cake.
After the fuss had died down, our family got ready to drive to the grandfather’s place.
“Will you drive yourself?” mother asked father when he opened the door and hopped into the driver’s seat.
“Don’t worry. I won’t drink and drive,” he said.


Grandfather’s house.
That I had frequented more than any other place.
That the eldest son, Young-ki inherited after the founder, Yang-cheol had died.
In which I carried out my first task; I plucked out weeds.
I was a servant of Young-ki then, but now I’m blood-related to him.
I felt as if returning home after I had been through alot and made it on my own as a success.

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