This World is too Cruel to Men

“Oh dear…”

Pufferfish mode again.

It seemed our pufferfish wasn’t just competitive; she ‘intensely’ disliked losing.

Why else would she look so dejected?

It’s funny how the human mind works.

This kid, who usually just yelled, now looked utterly crestfallen, and my eyes kept drifting towards her.

I’d tried my best with the drawing, hoping to cheer her up, but it wasn’t enough to deflate her puffed-up cheeks.

“This is… bothersome.”

Maybe it was because she lived right next door.

My glances continued until it was time to go home.

“Dokgun? You need to say goodbye to Yun-Seo.”

“Uh… Bye, Yun-Seo. See you tomorrow at Kindergarten.”

No response.

Which made it even more bothersome.

Yun-Seo just nodded.

Puzzled, I tugged on my mom’s hand, stopping her as she turned to walk home.

It felt… wrong. Like I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I left things like this.

“Hey! Oh Yoon-seo!”

I spun around and yelled, calling out to the little one who had already walked quite a distance with her dad.

At my call, she froze, her face still a picture of dejection.

“Thanks for the pretty drawing today! I’ll treasure it!”

Was that enough? Her slumped shoulders seemed to lift a little, so maybe?

“See you tomorrow!”

Unsure, I tilted my head, offered another goodbye, and then grabbed my mom’s hand and ran. I’d acted impulsively, and now the embarrassment and shame were catching up.

My mom’s constant “Oh my…” and “How sweet…” only fueled those feelings.

Dokgun, rushing home with his mom, didn’t see it, but his last words had definitely had an effect.

They’d cheered up Yun-Seo, who’d been moping after seeing Bora’s superior drawing skills.

Yun-Seo’s dad, oblivious to the Kindergarten drama, was just puzzled by his daughter’s sudden mood swing.

She’d been gloomy, like she’d had a fight with a friend, and then suddenly, she was bright again.

“Did you give Dokgun a drawing, sweetie?”

“Teacher told us to…”

“Ah, you had a drawing class today.”

“…Yeah.”

Yun-Seo nodded, her light brown hair, slightly messier than it had been in the morning, swaying gently. But then, remembering something in her bag, her expression turned urgent.

“Y-Yun-Seo?”

Her dad was taken aback.

He didn’t know what had happened at Kindergarten, but his daughter had suddenly started rummaging through her backpack.

Ignoring him, Yun-Seo pulled out Dokgun’s drawing.

Her face fell.

She’d carelessly stuffed the drawing into her bag, and the edges were now crumpled and ugly.

She felt terrible.

And worried.

What if Dokgun was upset that she’d crumpled his gift?

“Wow… Did Dokgun draw this? He’s really good.”

Oblivious to his daughter’s inner turmoil, Yun-Seo’s dad was simply impressed by the drawing, which was surprisingly good for a seven-year-old.

That made Yun-Seo feel even worse.

Even her adult dad was impressed, which meant Dokgun had put a lot of effort into it, and she’d ruined it.

She might lose her chance to become friends with him, and maybe she wouldn’t be invited to his birthday party.

If any adult had known what she was thinking, they would have told her to just make new friends.

But Yun-Seo had recently moved and had to leave all her old friends behind.

It had felt like the end of the world.

“Sniff…”

“Huh? What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“Dokgun worked hard on it… but it’s crumpled…”

Her dad, unable to comprehend her distress, simply assumed she really liked this Dokgun boy.

“I-It’s okay! Daddy will fix it!”

“…Really?”

“Yes, it’s just a little crumpled. I can fix it perfectly.”

That day, a new framed picture, containing a perfectly smooth, laminated drawing, appeared on Yun-Seo’s desk.

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To describe a Kindergartener’s daily life from a second-round perspective: “Exciting, every day is new, playing is the best.”

Me? Well, I could definitely relate to the second part. I wasn’t kidding; every day ‘was’ a new adventure.

I’d barely thought, “Now, how will they fight today…?” when Bora appeared, sporting a sparkly bracelet studded with cubic zirconia.

“Dokgun! Whatcha doing?”

Even without hearing the rest, I knew what was coming.

“If you’re bored, wanna play Heroes with me? I’ll make you my sidekick!”

And as if on cue, Yun-Seo appeared, a box labeled “Playing House” in her hands.

“If you want to play Heroes, play by yourself. Dokgun promised to play house with me.”

When did I make that promise? In my dreams? Maybe.

“Hmph! Hero play is more fun than playing house!”

I had to admit, she had a point.

My momentary grimace was quickly replaced by Yun-Seo’s counterattack.

“But… Dokgun likes playing house more than Heroes, right, Dokgun?”

She stared at me, her expression clearly saying, ‘Well? Nod your head already!’

To be honest, I ‘did’ prefer playing house.

Hero play involved a lot of running around, which was physically and mentally exhausting.

Playing house just required sitting and talking in character.

Mental exhaustion was preferable to both.

But taking sides would inevitably lead to a meltdown from the rejected party.

“Bora and Yun-Seo are fighting again…”

“I know that! Daddy said that when he was watching a drama! It’s a total mess!”

Sir, what are you showing your child?

The whispers around us indicated that this wasn’t a new occurrence.

Our three-way dynamic was well-known, both inside and outside of Kindergarten.

“This is…”

How could they do this every single day?

Didn’t they get tired of it?

Or were they secretly collaborating, enjoying my predicament?

As cunning as kids these days were, surely seven-year-olds weren’t ‘that’ cunning…

But if they were, it was a terrifying thought.

So, what to do today?

How to navigate this situation and earn a reputation for wisdom?

I wished I could clone myself. Two of me could satisfy both of them.

But that was impossible. So…

“How about… we do this?”

The balanced approach.

Playing house?

Hero play?

Why not both?

And so, I became Yun-Seo’s husband and Bora’s manager, a role that made my head spin.

But it was the best solution for now.

Husband ‘and’ manager?

I felt like a two-timing cheater.

Anyway, that’s how I spent my days, caught between two little girls, each day a new adventure.

As they say, you never know what life will throw at you.

And that was certainly true.

I arrived at Kindergarten, as always, after being dropped off by my mom.

But something felt different.

The atmosphere was… subdued.

I looked around, trying to figure out why, and immediately noticed Bora’s gloomy face.

She usually would have rushed over to me by now.

Did she have a fight with her parents over breakfast?

But her expression was too dark for that.

It was as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her small shoulders.

Even Yun-Seo, her usual rival, seemed concerned.

She sat a little distance away, glancing at Bora.

Which, of course, made ‘me’ even more concerned.

What was going on? Was she transferring to another Kindergarten?

Turns out… I was right.

“Everyone, attention!”

The teacher called out, gathering the children’s attention, and then gestured towards Bora.

Bora, her face downcast, walked towards the teacher.

“This might be sudden, but Bora will be transferring to another Kindergarten.”

I was stunned. My wild guess had actually come true. And it was so sudden.

‘Even runaways give more notice than this…’

If she were running away, she wouldn’t be here.

So, what was it?

Something must have happened at her home.

But that wasn’t it either.

“I know you’re all surprised, but this is a happy occasion, so let’s give Bora a round of applause!”

A round of applause?

Where in that dejected face was there any sign of a happy occasion?

“Let’s all clap for Bora and wish her the best as she pursues her ‘talent’ and becomes a wonderful painter!”

Ignoring our confusion, the teacher insisted on congratulations.

Hands clapped together, a disjointed, forced celebration.

I realized, once again, just how unfair and messed up this world could be.