Chapter 1 — The Mirror of My Heart - A Short Story

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. All characters are adults aged 18 or over.

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People may live by their nature, but even nature is given chances to change.

Especially for someone who has lived solely by emotion—just one small event might awaken reason so brightly that it opens the door to an entirely different life.

So even if someone now seems like a reckless delinquent, clinging only to senseless indulgences,

I want to say: don't give up. Give them—even yourself—a chance to feel something small, something moving.

At the very least, don't judge a person solely by their current circumstances.

Only then might I escape the lingering bitterness in my heart—the debt I can never repay.

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"Let's go to the after-hours venue."

I pushed my heavily drunk companions forward, insisting on another round.
Pulling out a thick wad of cash from my pocket, I handed tips to the hostesses, confirming we'd keep our partners for the next leg.

"I'm not going to the after-hours venue."

"What? Who the hell are you to say no?"

Was my own partner—the one I was paying for tonight—really refusing me? I raised my voice in disbelief.

"Fine. Then no tip for you. If you want money, follow me."

"No, please give me the tip. I just don't want the after-hours venue."

After sending the others ahead, I called the owner over.

"Sir, this girl works under the condition she doesn't go to the after-hours venue. Please understand."

"What? Since when does that kind of rule exist? If a customer wants her, she should go, right?"

"Take someone else. Just not her."

"Whatever. Then I won't give her a tip."

I paid the other hostesses' tips and the bill, then walked out of the bar alone.

The biting cold made my teeth chatter.

I pulled my thick coat up to my ears and walked through a world turned white.
The crunching sound of snow echoed loudly through my collar.

"Hey!"

I turned at the call—there she was, the hostess who had refused to come, running after me.

"You have to give me my tip before you leave."

"I calculated that tip only if you came to the after-hours venue. If you don't want it, just stay behind..."

"I didn't go to the after-hours venue. Just give me the first-round tip."

"Alright, miss. Then let's walk around the neighborhood once. After that, I'll give it to you."

"No. Just give me the money now."

"The world's covered in fresh snow. Don't you want to be the first to step on it?"

"I've seen plenty of early-morning snow. It's just snow. Nothing special."

"I see. But I'm happy to see it. Walk with me for just ten minutes. Then I promise—I won't force you to go anywhere."

"...Alright."

We walked, choosing only untouched snow. Side by side, arm in arm, like a tender couple.

Ten minutes of truce. We walked beneath the falling snowflakes, soft as cotton candy, welcoming them with quiet joy.

"I'm cold, sir."

I took off my coat and draped it over her shoulders.

"You don't seem like someone meant to do this kind of work..."

"When times are hard, where can't a person end up? I'm poor. I have many family members depending on me..."

"You've never gone to the after-hours venue?"

"I can endure being touched, sucked on—those humiliations. But sleeping with someone? That's a line I won't cross."

"Customers must be tough on you, especially ones like me..."

"There are many cruel ones. It's exhausting."

"You were hurt tonight because of me, weren't you?"

"Yes. I needed the money."

"Did you quit early?"

"I left early. I couldn't afford to miss the tip."

"I'm sorry. I assumed all hostesses go to the after-hours venue."

"Not all of them do."

"But when people get drunk, they stop thinking clearly."

"Do you work nearby?"

"Yeah. That big building over there. I work there."

"Do you have a lot of money?"

"Not rich, but I don't struggle."

"Then… could you give me 100,000 won?"

"You need it?"

"Desperately."

Walking on snow seems to purify the heart.

This girl, who moments ago had irritated me so much, now made me genuinely want to hand over a large sum—just because we'd walked arm in arm around the block.

I pulled a 100,000-won note from my suit pocket and gave it to her.

Her bright smile felt like it warmed the freezing air.

"Thank you."

"You must hate me for being so harsh earlier?"

"People act like that when they're drunk. Anyway, I thought you seemed kind from the start."

"Then why didn't you just pretend and follow along to the after-hours venue?"

"I hate being a hostess. And the after-hours venue? I'd rather die than go."

We had nearly completed our loop—back in front of the same bar.

"Are you going back in?"

"No. I'm going home."

"Then I guess we walked all this way for nothing. Hurry home."

"Sir, walk with me to the main road."

Our footprints ran side by side along the path we'd taken.

As we walked again, we stepped into each other's prints, matching our strides.

"It's fun."

"Heh. Something we used to play when we were kids."

She linked arms with me again, leaning her shoulder against mine.

"I'm so cold I feel like I'll freeze to death."

"Good grief—I even gave you my coat. I'll turn into a frozen fish myself."

"Should I give your coat back?"

"No. Let me be happily frozen."

So close, so tender—like the earlier argument had never happened—we laughed, even jumped playfully beneath the falling snow, savoring this brief, unexpected meeting.

"Walk me all the way to my house."

"Where is it?"

"Up on that hill. The slope's tricky—I'm worried about how to get up safely."

"With snow fallen in the middle of the night, it's hard to find cinders for traction. It must be slippery."

"On nights like this, getting home is so hard."

"Alright. I'll take you all the way home."

The climb wasn't too slippery. In fact, I worried more about how hard it would be to descend later.

"This is my room."

She pointed to a shabby tin shack, its door frame slightly dented and misaligned.

"Please come in for a moment."

"If I take off my shoes, snow will pile up inside?"

"Just bring them in."

In one corner of the pitiful room—more like a shed—lay a single thin blanket.
Leftover food sat untouched on the table, as if she'd eaten and left it there.

"You live like this?"

"I used to be a neat girl. But I send every bit I earn to my parents and siblings—barely enough to buy ramen."

"It's late. I should go."

"Sir… are you married?"

"No. I have someone I plan to marry soon."

"Can't you stay the night?"

"You said you'd rather die than do the after-hours venue."

"The after-hours venue? I really hate it. I'd never do such a thing."

"But you're telling me to stay?"

"I want you to. I do."

She quickly wiped the floor with a rag, then laid out bedding.

She turned off the main light, leaving only a small lamp glowing dimly.

Her white skin slipped slowly into view as she slid naked beneath the blanket.

I hurriedly undressed and crawled under the same cover.

Her hands were still icy. Her small palm rested on my chest.

Her warm breath brushed against my shoulder.

One trembling leg cautiously draped over mine.

I turned onto my side, facing her, gently pulling her close.

With hands that had regained slight warmth, I cupped her small, pale breasts.

I pretended not to notice her shivering, wrapping my arms around her waist.

My hardened length pressed against her lower abdomen.

I lowered my weight onto her shaking body, breathing heavily.

She spread her legs wide—tightness gripped my shaft as it entered her core.

A hostess this tight? I thought, thrusting in with all my strength.

For a brief moment, I felt immense resistance—but I pushed deeper, burying myself into her womb.

A scream tore through the air, sharp enough to split the sky.

Like a rider charging forward, I pounded into her, conquering her completely.

All night long, I crushed her—her pale skin, her smooth thighs, her delicate arms—until they lay limp and spent.

She cried out in pain for a long time, but I, lost in frenzy, did not hear.

Only after a long while did she finally register what was happening—her legs slowly wrapped around my waist.

Into that conquered land, I spilled my thick liquid deep into her uterus.

I felt her tiny arms crush my hips, gripping as if to break them.

I only felt those small arms clinging to my shoulders, neck, head—shaking me fiercely.

Deep sleep fell over me.

When dawn broke and sunlight slipped between my closed lashes, a familiar scent tickled my nose.

"What? You're already up?"

"Here. Cup ramen."

I pulled back the blanket. A single drop of red blood remained, clearly visible.

"Were you a virgin?"

She stayed silent for a long time.

"I wanted freedom. I was looking for someone who would abandon me."

"What should I do now?"

"I want nothing."

A few days later, drunk again, I returned to the bar.

The owner grumbled that the girl hadn't shown up since that night.

I went to the crumbling shack on the hill—she was nowhere to be found.

Flowers bloomed. Snow fell. Flowers bloomed again, then faded.

Snow falls. Then flowers bloom once more.

I remember the girl who once chose only untouched snow, walking arm in arm through the neighborhood.

I regret never learning her name, never knowing the depths of her heart.

I've heard through the media that someone resembling her is now active in social work—but I can't be sure it's her.

But now, from within memories of how easily I once judged a person's entire life based solely on their present form,

I've come to realize: we must never hastily judge another human being.