Chapter Text
“My condolences.” Someone wished you solemnly as they stepped up to pay respect. From your position on the straw mat at the side, you only maintained a straight face and bowed to show your gratefulness.
“Your father was a great man.” A lady smiled softly.
“I’m sure he was.” You replied. But her reaction to your statement made you purse your lips. You hadn’t intended to let that comment slip out. You recovered by straightening up and shaking her hand, gesturing to her to the food and beverage table.
Some people excused your attitude as your way of coping and mourning. But those people that knew the truth knew your indifference and emotionlessness was because you didn’t know the man in the coffin.
He was supposed to be your father, it says so on your birth certificate. But it also said so on the divorce papers your late mother had.
To you, he was a stranger.
You had just finished a long call with your classmates to discuss a group project that was coming up. You stretched your stiff arms over your head as you went downstairs to get a drink.
DING DONG
You placed down your mug and went to the front door. There was no reason for anyone to be here. You didn’t order anything recently.
“Yes?” You opened the door to come face to face with a suited male. He was good looking and you could tell how built he was despite his suit and coat covering his body. But you had never seen his face before.
“Nice to meet you, Miss. My name is Kim Namjoon-”
“I’m not really interested in what you’re selling, thank you.” You cut him off, ready to close the door. He held a hand out.
“Apologies, (y/n) sshi. I’m not here to sell you anything.”
“Wait, how do you know my name? I have never met you before.” You frowned, starting to get a little worried and cautious. This man looked like trouble but at the same time, you knew you couldn’t run from him. Where could you run to in your small house? Plus, he looked like he could catch you easily. You just took a step back, shielding more of your body behind your door.
“My name is Kim Namjoon. Unfortunately, I am here to inform you that your father, (y/l/n) (y/f/n), passed away early this morning.” He informed. Your eyes widened as your brain worked to process what he said.
“As his only child, it is only right for you to represent him during the funeral procession.” Namjoon said.
“I-I don’t have a father.”
“I was told that you may react that way. Here, this is for you. I know you never had a relationship with your father but he did think of you often and I know he would want you to be there for his final send off.” He handed you a folder.
“He’s a stranger. I know nothing about him except his name.” You tucked the folder under your arm.
“I understand. Your father did love you and miss you but there were circumstances that prevented him from contacting you all these years.” He gestured to the folder.
“Look, Namjoon sshi, I don’t have the money for a coffin, much less to book a funeral hall. I’m on my own, living off the savings my mother and I earned on our own.” You sighed in defeat.
“Don’t worry about that. My brothers and I have everything handled, as instructed by your father before his passing. All you have to do is be there. We were close but at the end of the day, you’re his only blood born child.” Namjoon said with a small smile.
“You work for him?”
“In a way. I trained and work directly under him.” Namjoon was brief in his explanation. You just stared at him, knowing that he was more than just an employee to your father.
“Have a nice day. I look forward to hearing from you, hopefully.” Namjoon offered you another respectful bow before turning to walk back to his car. You closed the door, leaning against it and heaving a long sigh.
So here you were, greeting people and thanking them for coming to a funeral of a man you didn’t even know. They probably knew him better than you did.
“Namjoon sshi. I’m going for a breather.” You went to the male, who was sitting with 6 other males.
“Sure. Make sure to get some food and drinks too.” Namjoon smiled and patted you on the shoulder. You stiffly nodded and walked out of the funeral hall. You entered the toilet to splash your face with water.
“What am I doing here?” You looked at your reflection.
“Just get this over with and go back to your normal routine.” You told yourself as you left the bathroom. Maybe you didn’t really know how to feel about your father since your mother never talked about him much. All you knew was that they got divorced when you were 2 years old. Were you supposed to resent and hate him? Or be sad that you never got to know him?
“Want one? You look like you need it.” A pale guy offered you a cigarette when you stepped onto the balcony for some fresh air. You recognised him as the stoic looking one in Namjoon’s friend group.
“No, thanks. I don’t smoke.” You shook your head.
“Suit yourself.” He rested his forearms on the banister, lighting his cigarette to take a smoke.
Guess you won’t have much fresh air. You turned around and headed back in. You didn’t have much appetite to eat but you did grab a drink, throat feeling hoarse from greeting people.
“My condolences. It must be hard losing your father. He was a great businessman.” An older man came to shake your hand.
“You worked with my father?” You asked politely.
“Yes, he worked hard to build his company and this legacy. He was hoping that one day, you would take over-”
“Mr Park! Come, help yourself to the food and drinks.” One of Namjoon’s friends whisked the male away before he could finish his sentence. You blinked in confusion, unsure of what was going on. Namjoon led you back to where your post was.
“If you need anything or need someone to take over while you take a break, let me know. My brothers and I can take over temporarily.” Namjoon said.
“Thanks.” You sat back down on the straw mat, making sure that the ends of your hanbok were straight.
“Thank you for coming.” You bowed to those who came to pay respects.
You looked over at Namjoon and his 6 friends who were also tending to guests and speaking to them. They were obviously not real brothers but you could tell how close they were. The guests seemed to know them fairly well.
They were your father’s children more than you were.
“That girl is really his child?”
“He has never mentioned having a child before. Is she just after the inheritance?”
“Look at her. She doesn’t even care or have an ounce of grief knowing her own father has just died. That’s cold hearted.”
Of course, you were a new, unfamiliar face. You heard all the whispered comments that were being made about you. It didn’t help that Namjoon insisted you wear the band of the chief mourner, that itself signified your highest rank in your father’s life. You didn’t blame the gossip, you would find it suspicious too if a child of a deceased only appeared at their funeral.
“The girl can’t possibly be taking over his company, right? I think he would have willed it to Namjoon. He is capable of taking care of the company in his stead.” An older lady said.
“All the boys are capable of taking over the company. They have been trained by him and cared for by him.” The man she was with replied.
“Yes, they can definitely help it to grow to be even more successful.” She giggled lightly.
"We will be having the final rites before moving to the burial site.” The funeral director came. There was a moment of silence as the final rites were performed. The director held out your father’s photo to you.
“I shouldn’t...” You hesitated.
“Please, (y/n) sshi.” The director looked at you with pleading eyes, as if he was scared of anyone else holding the photo. You chewed on your bottom lip, reaching out with shaky hands.
“Thanks.” You whispered, holding the photo in front of you. Namjoon and his 6 brothers stood on either side of the coffin, lifting it up.
“Right this way.” You walked in front, nestling your father’s photo in your hands. As you walked passed, all those in attendance of the funeral bowed their head respectfully. They walked behind the carried coffin. When in front of the hearse, you stepped aside for the boys to load the coffin into the hearse.
“It’s okay, Hobah.” You watched as the smaller, pale man comforted his brother that was crying. Even the tough looking, tattooed one was crying and being comforted by the others. You couldn’t find it in you to shed a tear of feel sad.
The rest was a blur. The ride in the luxury car to the burial site, all the expensive cars riding behind the hearse. You kept to yourself, keeping your head down and not attempting to make any conversation.
“Goodbye.” Was all your uttered as you tossed your flower down onto the descended coffin.
“Thank you for coming.” You stood with the 7 men, bowing as the guests all retreated to their cars to leave the cemetery.
“The company is in your good hands.” The guests all told the 7, mainly ignoring you. You stared at the mound of dirt that would be turned into a nice grave with a headstone soon.
When your mother died, you did everything on your own. There were no visitors, no fancy send off and no one to help you. You had her final rites in the hospital where she passed and paid for her to be buried immediately. Your mother was an amazing woman, she deserved all this as a grand send off, not your father who abandoned you.
“(y/n) sshi.” Someone grasped your arm.
“Taehyung!” Namjoon called out as you yanked your hand away, as if his touch burnt you. The man’s eyes widened at your reaction, he had no ill intentions and even wanted to try to comfort you.
“I’m going home.” You muttered and walked down the path to the road.
“Let us send you home. It would be hard for you to get a bus or cab here.” Namjoon offered. You nodded your head and sat in the car.
“(y/n) sshi, can we pick you up some food before dropping you home? You barely ate at the funeral home.” The one that sat in the passenger seat of the car you were in asked.
“No thanks. I just want to go home.” You requested.
“Of course.”
The car pulled up in front of your small, two storey house. You stepped out and looking up at the house.
“Before you go, (y/n) sshi. This is for you.” You were handed a thick envelope. You didn’t need to open it to know that it was money inside. Probably all the money from the funeral visitors.
“Keep it. It’s not my money. You guys paid for everything so split it amongst you all or whatever.” You held it back out for them to take.
“You’re your father’s child, you should be the one to have it-”
“Look, let’s just stop. The man that was just buried is not my father. The day he left my mother and I, he stopped being my father. To me, he’s just a stranger that I’d rather not know about. I couldn’t cry for him like you could, I feel nothing for him.” You sighed.
“If he wanted me to know him, he had all these years to come back. I wouldn’t have to see my mother shoulder everything on her own because he was prideful or selfish.” Your voice wavered at the memory of your mother.
“He regrets that. He hates that he could only be your parent in his death.” Namjoon said gently.
“No, I only have one parent and I already buried her, two years ago.” There was so much bitterness in your voice. You turned away and entered your house, locking the door shut.
Like the day Namjoon came to deliver the news, you sat with your back to the door. You heard the roar of the luxury cars come to life and fade away as they drove off. Finally, your sobs and tears fell freely.
It wasn’t fair that the man that easily upped and left is celebrated while you and your mother were left to fend for yourselves. The only regret you had was not being able to do better for her when she tried her best for you to live life like any other kid. You worked any job that would take you but you still couldn’t buy her lavish gifts for Mother’s Day and her birthdays.
The day your mother collapsed, you had never been the same. You blamed yourself, she collapsed from the exhaustion. Her body was so weak that death came quickly.
When you buried her, you buried your heart with her.
“Ugh.” You got up, going to shower and change out of the mourning hanbok. You placed everything into a paper bag, throwing it into your closet.
“Hi, can I order two soups, please? Yes, two bowls of rice.” You ordered with the nearby restaurant. If you were not cooking, you usually ordered 2-3 portions of food at once, keeping the extras in the fridge to save on delivery fees.
*KNOCK KNOCK*
“Delivery!” You went to the door. The man held out the packets of food to you and you handed him the money.
“Have a nice night.” He bowed and went off on his motorcycle. Just as you were going to close the door, you looked at the envelope on your door step. It was the one with the funeral money. But unlike earlier, there was now writing on one side of it.
‘You don’t have to spend it, you can donate it. The money doesn’t belong to us. If you ever need anything, contact us.’
Stapled to the envelope was a business card. It was white, the company name ‘Bangtan Enterprise and Exchange’ printed in gold font. The other side of the card had one number on it. There was nothing else on it.
“Bangtan...” You read out. You placed the food on the table and put the envelope aside, no intention on using the money.
“Thank you for the food.” You began eating. You had placed your laptop in front of you, some mindless show playing to fill the quiet space with some sort of noise.
‘Dear student,
We would like to extended our deepest condolences to you and your family upon hearing your family member’s demise. As per school protocol, you have been granted 3 days of school leave.
- School administration’
You just saw the email sent to you by your school administration. How did they even know if you didn’t tell them? Plus, you never registered a ‘father’ in your school records. Whatever, now you had 1 extra day. Maybe you could spend the whole day sleeping tomorrow since you have been thrown into this emotional rollercoaster and have not slept for 2 days.
“I’m so full.” When you were done eating, you did the dishes, put the extra food into the refridgerator and went to your room to do some studying.
‘(y/l/n) (y/n)’
You remembered the folder Namjoon gave you when he first arrived at your doorstep. Pulling out your chair and sitting at your small desk, you undid the string and poured all the contents out.
“Omma...” You picked up one of the photos. You were a baby in your mother’s arms, the photo caught the both of you mid laugh.
‘My beautiful girls.’
The handwriting was not your mother’s so you guessed it was your father’s. There were pictures of them together, before your mother was pregnant and some while she was pregnant.
The only one that was carefully wrapped in plastic was one of your father carrying you after you were just born. In the plastic, with the photo, there was a folded letter than fell out. Your name was written on it.
‘My dear (y/n),
If you are reading this letter, it probably means that I am gone. Namjoon and the others have been instructed to give this to you only when I pass. Only because I am a coward that cannot face you and your mother after everything I have done.
I know after so many years, no excuse or reason will ever make up for my absence. I deserve to be hated and resented by you.
(y/n), if I could have been there to witness you growing up into such an amazing person, I would have. I would have given up the world to have you and your mother with me.
But I know I cannot be selfish. I cannot jeopardise your safety and risk putting you and your mother in danger. I’d rather live away from you than to know I am the reason you or your mother get hurt.
Every day, I think about you. How I wish I could speak with you and hug you, tell you I am sorry and that I missed you.
It has not been easy hasn’t it? You and your mother having to fend for yourselves. Your mother is just as tough, not wanting to receive any help from me, wanting to singlehandedly raise you, care for you and put you through school. I am confident that she raised you well, to be just as strong and independent as she was.
I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that though, how amazing of a woman your mother is. I will always love her with all my heart, I’m grateful to have her as my partner and soulmate.
While I may not be there to make up for my absence, if you or your mother ever need help with anything, please contact any of the boys.
To ask you to be there at my funeral was unfair of me, I am just a stranger, you probably barely know what I look like. But please just let me be selfish one last time, I just want to see you one last time before I leave.
I’m sorry, (y/n). I don’t deserve to call myself a parent, much less your father.
- (y/f/n)’