Chapter 9
Mom questioned me.
Her voice trembled slightly as she pressed me for answers.
…
‘If I’m going to confess my secret, now is my only chance…’
There were many ways to deflect Mom’s questions.
I could simply lie and say I’d found the account ID and password in the study’s research notebook, or something like that.
It would be far more believable than the absurd story that her daughter was actually the reincarnation of her academic advisor.
‘But.’
Even if I got through this moment with a plausible lie, a situation where I’d be suspected would surely arise later.
When that happened, I’d have to cover up one lie with another enormous one, and the lies would keep growing.
If that happened, I might spend my whole life crushed beneath the burden of having lied to my family.
Just imagining it made my chest feel tight and stifled.
‘That alone, I couldn’t bear…’
“Mom, actually…”
Once I’d made that decision, I told Mom everything I’d been hiding.
That I had been reincarnated with Shin I-jun’s memories from a past life from the moment I was born.
“No way… A-yeon is Professor Shin I-jun’s reincarnation?”
It would normally have been impossible to believe.
But the fact that her daughter had logged into the account of a professor she’d never even met was powerful evidence.
Mom wore a confused expression.
“I wanted to tell you sooner, but… I was afraid you’d hate me… I’m sorry… for hiding this all this time…”
I squeezed the words out.
Afraid to see Mom’s reaction, I fled.
“Ah, A-yeon!”
Click-.
I ran to the master bedroom and locked the door.
I was afraid to look at Mom’s face.
‘… In the end, I revealed my secret.’
The fact that I was reincarnated was something that would have to be revealed someday.
I didn’t want to hide a secret from the family I loved more than anything for the rest of my life.
Besides, to write a paper, I absolutely needed Mom’s experience and help.
‘I knew that in my head, but…’
Now that it had actually happened, I couldn’t erase Mom’s expression from my mind.
Trembling eyes. A shaking voice. A flustered expression.
The moment I recalled that sight, it felt as if something were squeezing the center of my chest.
Shiver-shiver-.
I was scared.
Regardless of whether I was a genius professor who had solved the Riemann Hypothesis in my past life or a gifted child with an IQ of 160, at this moment I was nothing more than an ordinary three-year-old kid.
Just a little girl afraid her parents would hate her.
In the dark master bedroom, I sat with the lights off, hugging my knees and burying my face in them.
✒️✒️✒️
Han Seol-ae quietly thought as she looked over the materials in Professor Shin I-jun’s personal cloud that Yoo A-yeon had been viewing.
Her mind was abuzz with all the information flooding it.
Shin I-jun.
That name brought many things to mind for Han Seol-ae.
“Professor…”
She had first entered Professor Shin I-jun’s lab through Jin-ho’s introduction.
Jin-ho had said to Seol-ae, who wanted to major in pure mathematics:
—Honey, I have a friend who got his PhD in the U.S. and came back to Korea to become a professor. His field is similar to yours. Look into him.
She already knew that friend was Shin I-jun, since she’d seen him a few times as her boyfriend’s friend.
At the time, her impression was that he was blunt and largely uninterested in the world around him.
But when she looked into his research field, it was similar to the direction of research she wanted to pursue.
She applied right away.
And she spent two years in the master’s program as Professor Shin I-jun’s only student.
He was a good person.
Whenever she sent him a draft of her paper, he read it carefully and gave her specific feedback.
Since it was a field that received no government funding, her stipend was insufficient, but he negotiated with the university, insisting he would find a way to increase it from his own salary.
On the day she was preparing a presentation for an overseas conference, he stayed up all night with her even though he had no reason to.
When she chose raising a child over pursuing a doctorate, he encouraged her, saying her choice wasn’t wrong.
And then.
Three months after she graduated, news of his death reached her.
When she went with her husband to the funeral home and stood before his portrait, Seol-ae burst into tears.
“… Our A-yeon.”
Seol-ae quietly closed her eyes and pictured Yoo A-yeon.
Scenes from the day she was born to the present flashed by in rapid succession.
Feeding her. Changing her diapers. Bathing her. Changing her clothes. Her first successful steps. Her first words. Begging to rest her head against Seol-ae’s and be petted whenever she got the chance. Sneaking into the study. Going to take an IQ test. Kicking her feet enthusiastically while reading a book. Teaching her little sister Arin to say unnie.
‘A-yeon was Professor Shin I-jun’s reincarnation…?’
It was hard to believe.
But her mind had already accepted it.
There was too much evidence.
The way she’d immediately answered questions no child could have known the answer to, scored perfectly on the IQ test, asked eerily sharp questions while reading math journals, and logged into a professor’s account that no one else could access.
If Yoo A-yeon was Professor Shin I-jun’s reincarnation, it explained everything.
Seol-ae slowly exhaled.
The professor she had admired had reincarnated as her daughter.
It was a proposition that didn’t feel real.
But it was reality.
…
How much time had passed?
The clock said it was evening.
No sound came from the master bedroom beyond the door A-yeon had locked behind her.
A-yeon must be waiting inside right now.
What expression was she wearing as she sat in there?
Would she look frightened?
Would she be crying?
Having sorted through her feelings, Seol-ae opened her eyes.
✒️✒️✒️
In the evening, Yoo Jin-ho returned home.
His wife said in a serious voice that they should have a family meeting.
He found himself swallowing at the grave atmosphere.
Once they sat at the dining table, his wife calmly told him that A-yeon was Shin I-jun’s reincarnation.
Including the evidence of the laptop screen logged into Shin I-jun’s personal account.
Honestly, it was so shocking that his mind wasn’t working properly.
Shin I-jun.
He had first met him as a roommate in the dormitory during their first year at a science high school.
His first impression had been that he was a blunt, boring kid, but after they started eating together, he turned out to be more fun than expected. That was how it started.
They both studied hard and went to the same university.
I-jun majored in mathematical sciences, while Jin-ho majored in statistics.
Their majors were different, but they often saw each other because they used the same building in the College of Natural Sciences.
When their free periods overlapped, they ate lunch together, and they even prepared for competitions together.
After graduating, Jin-ho got a job, while I-jun left for the U.S. to pursue his doctorate.
They kept in fairly frequent contact, asking if the other was doing well and eating properly.
Then he heard that I-jun had returned to Korea and become a professor.
Since his girlfriend also happened to be majoring in pure mathematics, he recommended Professor Shin I-jun, the most passionate and kind person he knew.
When Seol-ae told him she’d been accepted into graduate school, Jin-ho was glad. I-jun was someone he could trust.
That I-jun had died.
The cause was cardiac arrest.
He still remembered the day he received the news of I-jun’s death.
He had stared blankly at the wall, and for a while he was so depressed he could barely eat.
It was hard to imagine a world without that guy.
He always felt as if I-jun were somewhere out there.
Even if the world collapsed, Jin-ho thought I-jun would be somewhere in a lab, poring over a paper.
That was why, when naming his daughter, he had wanted to draw on I-jun’s strength.
That I-jun.
Had apparently been reincarnated as his daughter.
“… You aren’t joking, right?”
“I’m not joking.”
…
He was dumbfounded.
He couldn’t even begin to grasp how he was supposed to accept this.
Could the fact that I-jun named her A-yeon have been the cause?
There was a tradition that the act of naming created a link between souls.
Because he had named his daughter, could he have been reborn as her after he died?
It felt persuasive enough to make that occult line of thinking seem plausible.
His head hurt.
But Jin-ho had never been one to overthink things.
The more Jin-ho thought, the more tangled his thoughts became; then he shook his head and quickly reached a conclusion.
It was the same conclusion as his wife’s.
✒️✒️✒️
How long had I been sitting with my face buried in my knees?
“A-yeon. Want to come out? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Mom called for me.
…
Creak-.
I struggled to open the bedroom door.
Mom and Dad were sitting at the dining table with serious expressions.
I sat in the remaining seat at the table.
A stifling silence settled over us.
“A-yeon.”
She called my name.
“Yeah.”
“You were scared, weren’t you?”
Mom slowly reached out and gently wrapped her hand around mine.
My trembling hand gradually stilled.
“Mom was really shocked too. Honestly, my head is still a mess.”
…
“But you know, A-yeon.”
Mom gazed steadily into my eyes.
“From the day A-yeon was born until now, there hasn’t been a single day when I wasn’t A-yeon’s mother.”
I clenched my hands tightly.
“I remember the happy expression on A-yeon’s face while she was nursing, and how I supported her when she first tried to walk, and how she kicked the blanket while reading a book, and how she played with Arin instead of even reading her favorite books. All of that is the real A-yeon. Even if A-yeon used to be someone else, that doesn’t make all that time a lie.”
Warmth passed from our clasped hands.
“Even if you have Professor Shin I-jun’s memories, that doesn’t change the A-yeon standing in front of me. Memories of a past life are just memories of a past life. They alone don’t change the family relationship we’ve shared until now.”
Tears poured out.
I tried to hold them back, but I simply couldn’t.
“Sob… hic… waaah…!”
Mom pulled me into her arms.
I buried my face in Mom’s embrace.
“Dad feels the same way. I remember how you tightly grabbed Dad’s finger when he held it out on the day you were born, how you laughed when Dad gave you an airplane ride, and how you grabbed Dad’s trouser leg to ask him to buy you a book. All of that is the real A-yeon.”
Dad added with a gentle smile.
“Whether someone else’s past-life memories are in A-yeon’s head or not, she’s just a daughter with a bit of personality. What kind of parents wouldn’t love their daughter just because she has a little too much personality?”
Then he put his whole palm over my head.
“We went to I-jun’s funeral and cried our eyes out. We accepted that I-jun was no longer in this world. A-yeon isn’t I-jun. She’s just a cute little girl.”
“That’s right. You’re just our daughter. Our A-yeon.”
“Sniff… sniff…”
Dad gave a small laugh and ruffled my hair.
✒️✒️✒️
After dinner.
Alone in my room, I stared at the ceiling, experiencing a moment of post-emotional clarity.
‘Ha… How embarrassing…’
At three years old, I’d been overcome by my emotions and ended up bawling like a baby.
Me, Yoo A-yeon.
A peerless genius with an IQ of 160.
Ever since turning three, I’d decided to seal away my tears.
The seal had failed.
I wanted to die of embarrassment.
Pitter-patter-.
Just then, Arin, who had just woken up, came toddling over.
“Unnie, hold me-.”
Yoo Arin, 16 months old.
Arin could now walk around reasonably well and string together certain words.
“Later… Unnie’s feeling complicated right now.”
“Aah-. Hold me-! Hold me-!”
In other words, she was right at the age for throwing tantrums.
Whether or not she knew I was upset, Arin clung to me even more enthusiastically.
It’s cute that she says unnie so well, but…
Could you spare a thought for your unnie’s feelings too?
“Okaaay, okay! I’ll hold you!”
Squeeze-.
“Hehe, Unnie, I wike you.”
“Honestly…”
Arin liked being held by her unnie like this.
Ever since Arin was a baby, I’d held her hand and hugged her whenever she cried, so apparently she’d gotten used to it.
“There, there…”
Strangely enough, the moment I held Arin, the fog clouding my mind also began to clear little by little.
After soothing Arin and sending her off, I sorted through my thoughts.
‘Yeah. Everything worked out in the end, didn’t it? There’s no point worrying about the past. What matters now is…’
Now that my family knew about my reincarnation, I had nothing left to hold back.
Now was the time to write the paper proving the Riemann Hypothesis.
Having steeled my resolve, I approached Mom, who was washing dishes in the kitchen, and called out.
“Mom!”
“Yeah?”
“Help me with my paper!”