The Ones We Were | Squid Game | Hwang In-ho

THE SWEET AROMA of garlic and sesame rose from the skillet, settling in the air. Ji-ah drizzled the hot oil over the freshly marinated meat with meticulous focus. She often found herself lost in her cooking, escaping to a temporary place where hardships and worries no longer existed.

A soft hum began to escape her lips, gently floating through the otherwise silent room. That was before the peaceful solitude was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the door slamming open.

"I'm home!"

Ji-ah's jumped, her heart lurching. Her grip on the skillet slipped, hot oil splashing across her wrist. She whimpered in pain, releasing the pan. It clattered against the rim of the bot below, oil sizzling as it spilled out.

"Gi-hun..." she hissed as she made her way to the sink, throwing on the cold water and shoving her wrist under it. "Here he comes, not even ten seconds and destruction already follows!"

Gi-hun grinned, kicking his shoes off. He walked in, a small dance in every step. "It's just my way of saying I missed you."

"You scared the hell out of me," Ji-ah said, turning the water off and turning around. "Did you have to enter like that? Mom's sleeping and..."

Her voice trailed off as she saw her brother's face. A fresh cut was on his nose and he had faint bruises on both cheeks.

"What happened to your face?"

"Oh... it's nothing. It was a long day. I worked my hands...and face off today," Gi-hun laughed as though he were telling a joke. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some bills. "100,000 won. I just used some of it to buy mackerel. It's fresh." He pushed a bag into his sister's hands.

Ji-ah stared at him, unconvinced. She took the fish from him and put it in the refrigerator.

"Are you sure that's what happened?" she asked, a hint of worry in her voice. She began putting the food she'd made into two bowls as Gi-hun sat at the small table.

"...Yeah," he said.

Ji-ah placed one bowl in front of her brother, taking the second for herself. "Nobody's after you again?"

Gi-hun shook his head, chuckling sheepishly. "No, of course not. It's just..." his voice trailed off, a faraway look appearing in his eyes. "You'll never believe what happened on the subway."

She stared at him.

"There was some guy... he came up to me and asked if I want to play a game for money," Gi-hun began. "I decided to try just to see what that guy was all about and boom! I won and he gave me some money."

Ji-ah frowned. "What?"

"Yeah. I mean, I couldn't believe it either," he continued. "But hey, he was true to his word. He actually gave me the money."

"Have you been drinking, oppa?" she inquired, eyebrows furrowed.

"What? No.... No, of course not," he said, shaking his head. "I came straight home after taking Ga-yeong out for her birthday dinner."

At the mention of his daughter, Ji-ah's features softened. "How did it go?" she asked.

Gi-hun forced himself to keep a smile. "It was good," he replied. "I took her out for fried chicken and...I got her a present. Then I took her home and that was it."

"That's nice," Ji-ah said, studying him.

Despite feeling something was off, she didn't press. She knew how strained Gi-hun's relationship was with his daughter. She also knew Ga-yeong's mother and stepfather weren't fond of Gi-hun.

But Ji-ah knew something else. Something she was sure her brother wasn't aware of yet. Ga-yeong's father's job required a move to the United States, therefore the entire family was planning to move there by next year. Their mother had told her this earlier – except Ji-ah didn't have the heart to break the news to her brother.

"How was eomma today?" Gi-hun asked, taking a bite of noodles.

Ji-ah sighed. "She had another bad headache so she went to bed early. The doctor said it'll continue to happen until we can get the proper treatment for her."

Gi-hun pressed his lips together, feeling the guilt creep up his throat as he stared down at his bowl.

"But it's going to be okay," she assured, tone softer this time. "Once I get back from the work trip we'll have enough money."

"When are you coming back again?" he asked.

"The sixth of July," Ji-ah informed him. She briefly put her chopsticks down, leaning back. "It's just four weeks in the countryside. The only problem is, I don't think I'll have phone service out there most of the time."

Gi-hun met her eyes, nodding.

"So I'm hoping everything will be okay here while I'm gone," she said. "Can I trust my older brother to–"

"To not burn the apartment down?" Gi-hun interjected, a playful smirk on his face. "That's a pretty low bar, Ji-ah. Who's the one who almost had a disaster in the kitchen today?"

Ji-ah giggled. "That was because you barged through the door. It's simply cause and effect."

"Yeah, yeah," he replied. "I'll be fine. I survived raising you, right? A few weeks with eomma will be easy."

"Hey, I'm the one who survived you!" Ji-ah retorted, smile involuntarily growing.

"I still deserve a prize."

.・●・.・▲・.・■・.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

The Metformin pills clinked as Ji-ah dropped them into her mother's pill organizer. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday...

She was leaving early the next morning, so she wanted to make sure her mother would have her medication sorted for the next days. She trusted Gi-hun to take responsibly from then on.

Ji-ah tiptoed to her mother's room, slowly pushing the door open and walking in. The room was pitch black except for the sliver of light coming from the partially opened door.

She quietly placed the container as well as a fresh glass of water on the small tabletop next to her bed.

When Ji-ah turned to leave, she felt a soft grip on her wrist.

"Aegi-ya."

She turned on her heel, now realizing her mother was awake.

"Eomma... you're awake," Ji-ah whispered softly, stepping closer. She knelt down next to her bed, switching on the lamp. "I was just coming to bring water and your medication for the next few days."

Her mother didn't let go of her wrist. Instead, she slowly moved her fingers to Ji-ah's hand, holding it warmly. "Thank you, sweetheart."

She nodded, reaching out and brushing some hair out of her mother's face. "Are you feeling all right? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine... I'm fine," she replied. "My mind is keeping me awake tonight."

Ji-ah froze slightly. There were a lot of things to worry about, but she couldn't have her mother thinking about any of it. Especially in her current condition.

"Eomma, please don't worry about anything," she spoke softly. "Gi-hun and I have it all handled. I'm going to come back in four weeks. Then you'll be able to get your treatment."

But her mother didn't nod in agreement. She just held onto her hand tighter, squeezing it. "Oh, I feel so bad," her mother murmured. "You'll have to go to some...faraway place just to help me. God knows if it's a dangerous place. I just...feel so bad–"

"No, eomma," Ji-ah quickly began. "It's for all of us. And it's not dangerous. The countryside is more peaceful and safe than being out here. I'll just be working at a greenhouse, helping grow some vegetables and herbs – maybe fruit as well. They even provide free housing."

She paused.

"It's only temporary. It'll help all of us."

Her mother didn't reply for a beat. Instead, she gently reached out to stroke her daughter's cheek. "I trust you, Ji-ah. But please don't push yourself. I know how you are always outdoing yourself just for the sake of us and I don't want you to hurt yourself." she paused. "Sometimes I feel like you're trying to be two people, just because your brother isn't capable. I worry about you, I really do."

Ji-ah gently placed her hand over her mother's. "Gi-hun is going to look after you while I'm gone. I'll be back before you know it."

This time, her mother nodded, though reluctantly.

"My angel..." she whispered, gently pulling Ji-ah closer. She pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll be waiting for you."

For a moment, Ji-ah's breath hitched. A lump suddenly formed in her throat, stealing her words. She was going for a good reason, yet why did she feel so guilty? Like she was about to leave her mother all alone.

She exhaled sharply, trying her best to suppress her rising emotions.

Ji-ah looked into her mother's eyes, making a promise that would stick with her forever.

"I won't disappoint you. I promise."

.・●・.・▲・.・■・.

When Ji-ah awoke to the sound of her alarm ringing, the sun still hadn't yet crept up over the horizon. It was a little before dawn: 4:30 AM.

She was extra quiet, careful not to wake her mother or Gi-hun at this early hour. She'd said goodbye to them the previous night. It was more difficult than she expected, but she made sure to stay strong – especially in front of her mother. She didn't want to worry her any more than she already was.

Bags in hand, Ji-ah began to creep past the bedrooms, involuntarily stopping halfway. The sleeping sounds drifted out from the closed doors, reminding her of just what she's working for.

Her mother. The one who'd always stayed strong for her children even when life seemed impossible.

Her brother. The one who practically raised her all the times their mother had been out working to be able to put food on the table. The man who had acted as a father figure to Ji-ah after hers died – despite not even having one himself.

After this, perhaps everything will get better. She just hoped these four weeks would pass by quickly. And she also hoped Gi-hun wouldn't get himself into any trouble.

He swore he wasn't gambling anymore. He swore nobody was after him. Yet something still felt off.

Ji-ah forced her legs forward, paying one last glance to the bedrooms before continuing onwards. She placed 80,000 won in the tin jar her mother kept the money. It wasn't a lot, but she hoped it would help for the time she was gone.

She was going to miss this house. She was going to miss her family.

But at least she had something to fight for.