Paradigm

Chapter XVIII

TW : Suicide

✨🪐✨

Busan, South Korea. July 1995.

Shirt, linen slacks, loafers and luxury perfume. This was the classy man San had decided to be to meet his girlfriend's family.

It was relatively warm for the time of year and the place. The sun and blue sky peeked through the vigorous green leaves of the trees lining the city's typical streets. Bora was less dressed up, but had made an effort to match his style. She radiated ease and happiness, representing that privileged society for whom everything was possible, those people who possessed the immense luck to have a future, without even realizing it.

And he was one of them. His clothes, his trips... even his education, he owed them to the good fortune of being born at the right time in the right place. He was trying his best to make the most of it and put his knowledge to good use. Preventing mad geniuses from depriving people of their freedom was included in that "good use".

They reached the front door of the young woman's childhood home hand in hand. She was literally boiling with anticipation. After all, was this not going to be the first time she would introduce the man of her life to her parents ?

It would be the last, too, but she did not know it yet.

Bora pressed the doorbell, shivering.

A very tall man with graying hair, strikingly square features and a rigid appearance opened the door and whispered a few words to his daughter as they hugged before addressing San.

"Hello Mr. Choi, it's a pleasure."

His expression said otherwise.

The writer invariably continued to display an imperturbable, somewhat naïve smile.

"The pleasure's all mine, Mr. Im."

They exchanged a manly handshake and he entered the impressively chic and tasteful house, which seemed larger on the inside than on the outside. It looked as if it had come straight out of an interior magazine, except that the objects decorating the foyer were probably one-off pieces purchased at auction.

A woman in her early fifties appeared discreetly at the kitchen door, dressed very strictly and her hair gathered in a tight bun. Yet she did not give off the same impression of rigidity as her husband. She constantly avoided eye contact and instinctively bit her lower lip, a sign of constant, fearful stress.

For San, there was no doubt that her husband beat her. Clothes that covered almost her entire body in the middle of summer, fearful tics and a submissive attitude... She showed all the signs.

He greeted her with a jovial handshake. Her hands were abnormally cold and clammy.

Bora's mother had remained unmoved throughout the meal, scrutinizing him to such an extent that he felt a bit uneasy.

As for Mr. Im, he was the very image of a barely masked abusive virility, a fervent supporter of the Korean nationalist party, involved in its politics and openly convinced of the racial supremacy of the Korean people. It was therefore obvious that his ilminist girlfriend had grown up in an environment conducive to the development of her dangerous ideas.

Was the young woman aware of what her mother was going through ? It was hard to miss, even without an in-depth study of her behavior. Had she decided to ignore it in order to preserve her bond with her father ?

This family was completely torn.

As a grotesque political discussion began, Mrs. Im stood up to clear the table alone. In order to play his gentlemanly role to the full, San assisted her and accompanied her to the kitchen.