Everything was nice and quiet once the two brothers, the most energetic, rowdiest of the six kids, were gone. If Gyowon, who was still on edge, were to add her own exaggerated interpretation, she would say it was so quiet that she could hear the creek hundreds of meters away.

Danhui had already taken Jeongmok and Jeonghyeop to her parents’ home to celebrate her father’s seventieth birthday that weekend, and Jaegang was planning to come home after work and then head over there tomorrow. Hyonae had left yesterday to be with her mother-in-law, who was due to have breast cancer surgery. Hyonae’s parents would watch Darim while Hyonae slept on the cot in the hospital room until her mother-in-law was ready to go home. She’d likely be gone for ten, maybe fifteen, days.

Initially, Gyowon had told Hyonae, Neighbors are for exactly these types of emergencies, of course fellow moms would know how you feel, so please don’t worry about Darim.We can take care of her while you help your mother-in-law. If she were fully recovered from the fight, she would have made the offer more confidently. It wouldn’t be easy, of course, but it wasn’t like both parents would be gone; Sangnak could bring Darim over in the morning, then take her home after work. Sangnak would have to go visit for a day or two since it was his own mother undergoing surgery, but if push came to shove, Gyowon didn’t have any issue with putting three kids to bed in her apartment. Things were still strained between her and Yeosan after all the drama in the middle of the night, and it had been somewhat awkward to continue seeing her neighbors as though nothing had happened, but life puttered along without waiting for Gyowon to recover. She was already forcing herself to maintain a sense of normalcy for the kids, so it wouldn’t physically be a big lift.

But Hyonae had immediately refused her offer without even a smile. Honestly, even Gyowon would have declined a similar suggestion by a neighbor, saying she appreciated the sentiment. Even though their lives had become enmeshed, it would be difficult not to feel nervous about the arrangement. A grandmother would likely be better at soothing her own grandchild than a neighbor. Especially from a mom’s perspective, it would be more reassuring to choose her own mother. If she were in Hyonae’s position, she wouldn’t have the energy to worry about her child while sleeping at an unfamiliar hospital and taking care of a patient. Gyowon could also understand any hesitation Hyonae might feel about leaving her child with a family that had fought at the top of their lungs not too long ago.

But Hyonae didn’t seem to be declining her offer because she felt bad about being a burden or because she was nervous about leaving Darim with the neighbors—that much was clear. Niceties—thank you so much but that won’t be necessary—weren’t a part of Hyonae’s vocabulary. In the network you formed when your child was born, and which strengthened through years of child-rearing, declining offers and expressing thanks were always deployed in tandem like a gift set. A well-timed smile acted as the bow on top. Hyonae’s refusal showed her intention to deflect help from anyone else. This sentiment hadn’t emerged from personal beliefs, or a strict adherence to privacy; instead it seemed she had assumed she would have to return the favor and take care of Seah and Ubin in a similar situation (regardless of how remote such a possibility might be). While it could be that Hyonae’s predilection was a product of having the kind of efficient, restrained personality that didn’t allow her to burden anyone else or rack up any debt for even the briefest time, it was clear that this wasn’t the case if you observed Hyonae’s life for even a second.

Sure, it depended on your personality, but it would be impossible to handle only your own affairs without sharing the burden in some way when one kid became two and then three and the kids all fell sick at different times. What was Hyonae planning to do when that inevitability happened? There would surely come a time when she wouldn’t be able to go to the youngest’s school performance because the eldest had an open house, when she wouldn’t be able to pick up the middle one from an after-school program because the baby had to go to the doctor. Gyowon had always wondered how someone as individualistic as Hyonae had even thought to move into a communal living situation like this one. Hyonae paid hardly any attention during playtime with the kids, and she was sloppy in every possible way; how she managed to take care of her own daughter was a mystery. It was truly painful to face her every day when it was obvious she was participating in the co-op day care only because she had no other choice, her expression making it clear that if she could, she would leave instantly. While Gyowon completed all of her assigned duties like clockwork (except for the day she’d gone to the ER to get stitches), Hyonae showed up twenty or thirty minutes late nearly every day. It was hard to assign her even the simplest of tasks, like writing down the daily activity log, when she was so scattered.

In any case, because of all this, today there were only three kids, Siyul, Ubin, and Seah, and two adults, Gyowon and Euno. Things felt more relaxed since there were only half the usual number of kids. Euno had just suggested forgoing the day’s nature-oriented program and heading to a big kids’ café or somewhere in town.

“I wondered if the kids might feel a bit isolated because they’re always in nature. Maybe it’s time for them to jump on a trampoline and roll around on mats and throw themselves in a ball pit.”

Might feel a bit isolated... To Gyowon, that sounded like he was speaking about her.

“If we call a taxi now, I think we can get back before everyone comes home. And it won’t be too crowded on a weekday.”

“That’s not a bad idea, but wouldn’t people think we’re a couple with three kids?” asked Gyowon with a grin, and Euno cocked his head as if mulling it over, then shrugged.

“Who cares? We’ll never see them again anyway, so they can assume whatever they want.”

Once Euno locked in their plans, Gyowon felt the shadows that had darkened her nerves lifting. She sensed that today would be easy and fun, and it even felt like their hours with the kids were already over. Because there weren’t as many kids, she didn’t have to make soup in the big pot or set the table with the healthy vegetable banchan; they would eat lunch at the kids’ café in town, then, on their way home, pick up pizza for dinner. They would revel in a greasy, unhealthy, high-calorie feast topped with cheese and thin rounds of potato and olives and bacon and more; feeding the kids pizza for once in their lives wouldn’t kill them.

Honestly, Gyowon had been feeling disillusioned about all the tasks that had been given to her, all the tasks she had, for the most part, assigned herself, and all that resulted from these tasks. More often than not she felt that all the tasks and duties she’d been laboring over every second of every day meant nothing at all, and she thought that Yeosan and his family too often used cutting words to shoot her dead. Each time that happened, Gyowon distracted herself by approaching homemaking and child-rearing with an earnest desperation, memorializing the results of her efforts in a carousel of pictures and short videos that could be “liked” and admired by anyone.

The praise from her followers quickly vanished as the feed refreshed, but for Gyowon, if it was going to go unpaid anyway, then making a record of her labor and attracting more eyeballs was a form of emotional compensation.

All of that was before they’d moved to their current home. Yeosan had changed jobs twice in the few years since Ubin was born, mostly because his pay was always late, a chronic issue when working for small-scale subcontractors. By the time Gyowon was pregnant with Seah, Yeosan had landed at the small company run by his family. He’d wanted to avoid working there if at all possible; the insinuation of we’re family, you know exactly how much money there is frequently delayed his paychecks. Although he wasn’t kept in the dark like at his former jobs and his paychecks somehow, if irregularly, managed to hit their bank account before the next payday, none of that made much of a material difference to Gyowon as she struggled to make ends meet.

In such a situation, the only way to supply what the kids needed without going bankrupt was to make maximum use of the large resale sites specializing in children’s gear. That in itself wasn’t anything special, as most women with kids did that. It was common for moms to slather expensive hypoallergenic moisturizer on their children’s bodies while they themselves made do with samples they collected as they walked through store aisles.

Newborn gear like a pump or a breastfeeding pillow were rented, and toys and books and clothes and shoes and strollers were bought secondhand. Online groups that catered to moms who were several levels wealthier would bulk purchase luxury baby carriers and tanklike strollers from overseas and buy toys crafted out of organic wood and cloth, posting picture after picture on community boards, and Gyowon bought those used goods for Ubin at the lowest price possible, haggling and negotiating, then stored them carefully for Seah to use later. Kids grew so quickly that it was a no-brainer to buy them secondhand clothes. She did buy new socks and underwear since they wore out easily, their underwear quickly soiled with all manner of bodily excretions, but she didn’t need to go out of her way even for those; a constant stream entered the house as holiday and birthday gifts from friends and family. For outerwear, she bought everything secondhand and washed them before the kids wore them. Since the kids would grow out of the clothes after a few wears, she wasn’t bothered by fuzz or missing buttons as described by the seller; these were easily remedied by mending and taking care when washing them. After her kids grew out of them, she posted the clothes back on a reuse site and someone else would buy them from her, continuing the economic cycle. She was proud of her thrift even if nobody acknowledged it, and this pride propelled her through life. After all, even if her husband didn’t bring home much money, she was capable of buying a luxurious British stroller that was known to protect the baby’s spine, all for half the going rate.

It was important to carefully inspect the item and negotiate a reasonable price. The seller tended to want the best price possible, regardless of any scratches or the item’s overall condition, while of course the buyer wanted to pay the lowest price. Gyowon stubbornly insisted on a refund if she discovered a flaw that hadn’t been evident in the pictures (This book series was advertised as being so new that the spines would crack when you opened the books, but the corners came dented and torn. Someone’s written their name in the back of a book, too. None of this was in the description, so I’ll be returning this.), and when this happened, the sellers, who were other housewives stuck at home with their kids all day long, often found it burdensome to process a return and instead offered a steeper discount on the price or the delivery fee in an attempt to complete the transaction. Gyowon must have saved millions of won more by taking these steps; having gotten a taste for driving a bargain, she began negotiating hard, though in her mind she wasn’t doing anything unusual, until she ended up on the receiving end of a pile-on.

It all began when a user posted a screenshot of Gyowon’s message on a moms’ group forum, obscuring only part of her user ID. Here’s the cheapskate who wanted the BNWOB Magic Fan book series for 30K when I put it up for 70K (retail price 120K). I know we’re all in the same boat with young kids and should give people grace, but this is ridiculous. To accompany that jeering post, the seller had uploaded a screenshot of the messages they’d exchanged.

The screenshot ended there, and some moms in the comments seemed to feel sorry for Gyowon, saying, She must have been really hard up to throw out that number, but the majority found this behavior embarrassing, or raged that people like her were the reason everyone thought all moms were shameless. It’s not like we buy things for the advertised price because we’re rich, they commented. We’re all on a tight budget. The screenshot of their exchange spread to other groups, even ending up on the home page of a portal site with the inflammatory title The Cheapskate Mom of Joonggonara Strikes Again.

While it was true that the retail price for the Magic Fan series was a hundred twenty thousand won, that was the retail price; Gyowon knew that they were being sold for around seventy thousand won, the price having been driven down by competition among small and medium-sized wholesalers. Which meant that the seller was trying to get the exact amount she’d paid, even though the books had already been opened and used. In Gyowon’s mind, even a never-worn item of clothing was considered secondhand the moment it was taken out of its packaging. Even if people didn’t know all that context, the part Gyowon wanted to rebut was the way the exchange was framed; while it was true they had messaged back and forth, it had continued beyond that screenshot.

Gyowon hadn’t clung persistently to something the seller said was impossible; she had opened negotiations with zero expectations, just trying to see if there was someone out there willing to come down to her price, and the exchange had ended pleasantly. How could the seller then turn around and stab her in the back like that without even blacking out her full user ID? Gyowon’s ID soon became synonymous with shameless, irrational behavior, and other users piled on to share their own experiences with her.

After that incident, Gyowon became depressed; things hadn’t improved much since then, but she’d given up on the idea of therapy or going to the doctor about it because of the astronomical cost. Her only joy in life was displaying her culinary skills or cute, unique interior decor ideas through pictures for people she didn’t know; now that the kids in their communal apartment building had begun spending their days together, she’d taken on nearly all the cooking and felt more useful.

The years she spent buying things while being called cheap by anonymous people on the internet and the days she spent protecting what they had instantly became meaningless. She had no idea why she’d lived so tenaciously, gluing together all the gaps in her daily life, when there had been an entirely separate hole through which water was leaking out. A few months ago, Yeosan, who somehow used to bring home his full pay even if it was at odd intervals, had begun bringing home an envelope with just a few ten thousand won bills in it, and only when she nagged him about money. Recently Gyowon had called her sister-in-law to gripe about how impossible it was to make ends meet with what felt like an allowance. What she learned during that conversation was that the company had gone bankrupt, her sister-in-law’s husband had taken huge amounts of company funds before getting caught and sent to jail, and in an attempt to fix it, Yeosan had been running around, giving his sister every little bit of his own salary—and the entire family had kept this news from Gyowon the whole time.

“Wouldn’t that make you hit the roof? I have no idea how they thought they could hide it from me, when it’s obvious how much money comes in. Basically the whole family colluded against me and decided I could be fooled.” Gyowon’s eyes tracked the kids as they boisterously went up and down the inflated slide.

Euno hesitated, not sure how to respond. Her voice was low, her expression indifferent, as if she were talking about someone else. He wasn’t in a position to offer even the most perfunctory of consolations, as he himself received a paltry sum every month from his wife, and he’d kept himself afloat for years by working for a day here and a day there on film shoots until he found himself in the situation he was in now, all but ready to give up on filmmaking.

“Sorry,” Gyowon said. “We’re on a rare outing, and here I am, being a downer.”

“No, not at all. Please don’t say that.” Euno decided that, with nothing else to offer, his role was to listen attentively. “I know this is difficult to talk about. I’m here to listen. Don’t worry about it. You can tell me anything you want, and that way you’ll be able to show a happy face to the kids.”

“Thank you. I’m done, though. I just feel like I’ll have to make a decision at some point. And it gets more complicated when I think about all our loans and the kids. The whole thing is a huge headache.”

Noticing how Gyowon’s cheeks drooped as she flashed a bitter smile, Euno stood up. “Uh, well, do you want something to drink? I’ll get... And something for the kids, too. Now, where’s the...?”

“It’s okay. I packed enough drinks, so I can take them out when the kids come over. Not yet.” Gyowon tapped her backpack, still looking away from Euno.

Euno had been wondering why she hadn’t opened the backpack, but then he glanced over at another table and saw a young staff member uncomfortably asking a group of women for their cooperation. “You can’t bring outside food in here. Please put it away.”

It appeared that the women had brought their kids to the kids’ café, along with burgers and gimbap they’d bought elsewhere, and had been caught eating the contraband. A woman who seemed to be the leader of the group smiled at the employee. “We’re almost done. Just a few more minutes? We’ll clean up after ourselves. Could you look the other way, just this once?”

Euno tutted to himself. Whether they cleaned up after themselves wasn’t the actual issue here, was it? The young employee sighed and gave them a half-hearted warning before leaving: “Well, please put it away quickly.”

That employee would be the one to get in trouble if the owner or the manager came by. It was part of the social contract to buy the expensive, mediocre food they sold here when you visited, even if the portions were tiny and it wasn’t something you actually wanted. This rule was reinforced by acrylic signs tacked up on the walls that said No Outside Food Allowed. But there were always people who didn’t blink at this rule and nonchalantly brought food in, setting up a whole feast as if to rub their defiance in the employees’ faces. Some people ignored the rules but considered their behavior to be a virtue of thrift. At least the moms at the next table over seemed to have enough awareness to understand that their behavior was embarrassing, ducking their heads and quickly finishing their food while sneaking glances at the employee, before shoving the aluminum foil and plastic waste in their bags. No matter where you went, there were always people who did precisely what they were told not to do.

But when it occurred to him that Gyowon had been planning to do exactly that, even if it was just drinks rather than a full meal, his face flushed. Judging from what he’d heard so far, it seemed that Gyowon was more than capable of doing that and then some. Euno couldn’t begin to understand Gyowon’s thought process since he wasn’t interested in buying entire series of books, and Siyul seemed just fine reading whatever books they had at the public library. Whether the retail price was one hundred twenty thousand or seventy thousand won, Gyowon’s decision to open with a thirty thousand won offer was beyond Euno’s realm of comprehension. Were there really so many people who were irrational about so many small things in life, claiming it was for their children, that they ended up not feeling any shame?

That was when Euno concluded that he would pay for their whole outing, including beverages for everyone. Gyowon should be able to experience just how energizing and exciting it was to be on the receiving end of a generous gesture, how satisfying it was to spend money on herself or to receive something that was for her alone. More crucially, he had the foreboding sense that if he entrusted her with the purchase of the pizza, she would choose a buy-one-get-one-free promotion that would consist of basic, unappetizing pies and try to negotiate with the restaurant for a lower price by suggesting they remove a specific kind of cheese or by taking issue with some topping or other. She might even demand an extra side that wasn’t part of the deal.