When my skin was all over the place, with red spots and white patches on the nape of my neck and face, and dryness, my kids hated even my stuff touching them.
I felt like I was being treated like some pesky virus that spreads disease.
“I’m not moving.”
Even though I spoke firmly, the children slowly avoided me.
But I wasn't that sad.
This is because I tried not to get hurt by doing things that I could do alone, such as reading a book or playing a game.
In fact, it is the result of constant self-brainwashing.
It is also the result of trying to pretend not to notice the children's reactions as much as possible.
Both my mother and I have heard many times that my child is very bright.
I know that the underlying meaning of that statement is, 'How can you be so bright when you have such a terrible disease?'
My mom also knows that I try to act overly cheerful.
Sometimes I think that pretending is also an effort.
I don't know if the effort was effective, but as time passed, the kids didn't really care.
What my mother was most worried about was that in such an atmosphere, I would be the center of attention and become a child suffering from social phobia or depression.
--- p.17

“Byeori, the truth is.”
Mom said without taking her eyes off the box.
I put the camera down and waited silently for my mother to speak next.
I was nervous because I wondered what my mom was going to say and why she was taking so long to say it.
“The seventeen-year-old daughter who lived in this house died.”
I was out of breath.
My heart was pounding loudly.
"omg."
“It was a long time ago.”
Mom added that it was something that had passed its statute of limitations, so there was no need to be so surprised.
After that, he continued to stroke the box without saying a word.
"Huh, really? Knowing that, you bought this house? Who told you?"
“The village chief.”
“Why? Why did he die?”
I don't know why my heart sank at that moment.
And then Sena's face, which had been in the shadows, suddenly appeared.
Suddenly, I became worried about Sena's well-being.
I don't understand why Sena is identified with the seventeen-year-old daughter who died in this house.
The shoes neatly placed next to the box looked even more unusual.
“Let’s not go into detail about that.
“The village chief told me not to do it if it would be a problem in deciding on this house, but honestly, I thought it wouldn’t be a problem if I told him.”
“Mom, isn’t that a problem?”
I can't forget the feeling of pride I had when I first entered this house.
“Life and death are not separate things.”
“Hey, that’s different.”
"What's the big deal about that? It made it easier for Mom to decide."
--- p.39~40

You know that game called "Send Me to Bed?" Watching Taegyu reminded me of that game.
It is a game where you cut off the tail of a dragonfly and put barley or grass stalks in it and send it flying.
How cruel it is to sleep, the one who plays with it does not think about the suffering of sleep.
I actually feel joy when I see that kind of thing.
When you catch a grasshopper and hang it on a dog's paw, you don't think about the yellow pus flowing from its neck, which is blood.
I thought it was okay, so I did what I had been doing without making any judgments.
When I was little, my kids looked at me strangely because I hated that kind of play.
Whenever I look at Taegyu, I feel like I'm seeing that.
I thought that maybe because I hadn't seen him for a while, he might have been playing with Taegyu even more.
I yelled at him to stop, saying Taegyu wouldn't like it.
From then on.
He targeted me, saying that I was pretending to know him for nothing and that Taegyu was my lover.
Maybe they're cracking down on me in advance because they're afraid I'll tell the adults at school or in the neighborhood, it's like a kind of threat.
Just try that, something like that.
--- p.68

I created a 'Red Box' corner on my blog and took pictures of the box being opened and the items inside, one by one, and added captions to the photos.
I uploaded a diary with a yellow cover that had blue mold growing here and there.
On the cover, the name Kang Yeo-ul is written faintly in black letters, but has been blurred out.
Next, I put up a Pinocchio doll.
This is a Pinocchio doll with a nose that is longer than its body.
A Pinocchio doll sitting with both legs stretched out and his head tilted to one side as if in despair.
It felt even worse because my neck was tilted, perhaps because it was pressed against something else.
It is a jointed doll whose limbs move freely.
Below the photo, it was written, 'This is a Pinocchio doll that has lost its owner.'
Comments started coming in as soon as I uploaded it.
Namuya Namuya: This has a very similar atmosphere to Gohyeon's first love story.
It must be a coincidence haha
--- p.109

As we entered the yard, the trees had been pruned to some extent and a path was visible.
Dad made a path for me so I wouldn't have to shrink down to squeeze through the branches anymore.
The flower buds of the star magnolia tree have swollen a little more, and the tips of the reddened maple tree's trunks are neatly covered with dew drops.
The apple tree trunk is adding a bluish tinge, and the pear tree by the yard faucet has swollen flower buds, unlike yesterday.
The space between the trees and the sky and the roof was thick with fog that seemed as if it would sink in if pressed.
It seemed like the energy the trees were breathing and emitting was blooming white.
I tried to take the diary out of the box, but ended up carrying it all and heading towards the rock behind me.
My mom and dad looked at me with tired eyes.
After that, I cleaned up the fallen branches and raked away the thick pile of fallen leaves.
Mom spread out a parasol and placed a chair on the rock behind us.
There, I will have lunch, and my mother will sit back and drink tea.
Mom and Dad, I was once again grateful.
Because it felt like it was my comfortable chair and parasol.

--- p.129~130