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# Chapter 60: The Name in Berlin
Kang Liou didn’t answer. Instead, he gripped Seia’s hand tighter. As if that itself were a response. As if his silence said everything.
5:15 AM. A Jeju beach. The waves continued their endless rhythm—coming, going, coming again. Through his hand, Seia felt something. A tremor. No, more than that. Fear. Deep, quiet fear. Like the weight of things that never rise from beneath the water.
“What happened in Berlin?”
Seia kept asking. Just as she wouldn’t let go of Kang Liou, he wouldn’t let go of her hand either. They stood in the water. Their jeans soaked up to the thighs. None of it mattered.
“I had a friend.”
Kang Liou finally spoke. His voice was very low, nearly swallowed by the sound of waves.
“A friend?”
“A musician. A year younger than me. We both played piano. We entered the Berlin Conservatory the same year.”
Kang Liou looked out at the sea. Still black. Dawn hadn’t come yet.
“His name?”
It was an important question. To speak a name was to acknowledge existence. The dead live again when called by name. Kang Liou seemed to know this. That’s why he’d remained silent for so long.
“Han Junho.”
He finally said the name. Han Junho. Seia repeated it silently, speaking without words.
“What happened to him?”
“He died three years ago.”
Kang Liou’s voice grew even smaller, as if saying it caused him pain. As if speaking it again was killing him anew.
Seia squeezed his hand tighter. This time, she went first. This time, she would be the one who wouldn’t let go.
“How?”
“Suicide.”
The word sounded louder than the waves. As if the world had stopped. As if time itself froze at that word.
Seia’s breath caught. Suicide. Such a massive word. Such a heavy word. And Kang Liou had been carrying that weight alone for three years.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
It was the truth. Few people know why someone takes their own life. The living never do.
“We competed. Always. Since we were kids. Over who was better. Who went higher. In Berlin too. We studied under the same teacher. Practiced the same pieces. Entered the same competitions.”
The words began to flow now, as if a dam had burst. As if not speaking would kill him too.
“Three years ago, at the Berlin International Piano Competition, Junho won first place. I came in third. Third. The first time in my life I fell so far behind. We were always equal. But at that competition, he won.”
His fingers trembled in the water. Worse now. Visibly.
“And a week later, he was dead. In his dorm room. Drug overdose.”
Seia couldn’t speak. Didn’t know what to say. She looked at Kang Liou. His face was obscured by water and darkness. But she saw tears. A different water than the waves. Saltier.
“To me, it was my fault. Because I couldn’t beat him. If I’d been better. If I’d won, he wouldn’t have died. Because—”
He stopped. Took a deep breath before continuing.
“Because Junho always followed me. Whatever I achieved first, he’d achieve after. He was my shadow. So if I’d won, I think he would have lived. No. He would have lived. Absolutely.”
Seia grabbed him then—not just his hand, but all of him. She held him in the water, where the waves crashed. Kang Liou didn’t resist. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her back, as if she were his lifeline.
“So when I saw you…” he whispered into her ear. “…you seemed similar to him. Like someone dying through music. You were erasing your own music. Like Junho erased himself. That’s why I wanted to save you. To make up for not saving Junho.”
In that moment, Kang Liou’s body shook violently. Everything came pouring out. Three years of suppression. Guilt. Regret. Despair. The weight of it all.
Seia held him tighter. She didn’t speak. Just held him. That was all she could do.
The waves continued. In and out. An endless cycle. As if this moment too would repeat endlessly. As if Kang Liou had been standing in this water, crying like this, for all three years. Unseen. Unheard.
“You’re different from them,” Seia said for the first time, speaking from above his shoulder.
“Different how?”
“You didn’t want to save me. You wanted to save Junho. You saw me, but you weren’t really seeing me—you were seeing him. I hated that. Yesterday.”
Kang Liou moved then, pulling her away slightly, lifting her face to his. His eyes were red. But somehow clearer.
“And now?”
“Now it feels different.”
“Different how?”
“Now you’re holding me. For me. Not for Junho.”
Kang Liou brought his hand to her face. His fingers still trembled. But it wasn’t the tremor of fear anymore. It was the tremor of presence. The tremor of being alive in this moment.
“You’re really strange,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because you knew I was using you. You knew I was trying to save Junho through you. And you didn’t let go. You still haven’t.”
“I think you were the one doing that,” Seia answered, with a hint of humor. In this moment, they needed levity. Needed to breathe.
Kang Liou laughed. A real laugh. Small, but genuine. Like laughter that had been trapped for a long time. Like it had been imprisoned for three years.
“When morning comes, this memory will change,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because that’s what we all do. We tell the truth at night, then deny it by morning.”
“I think you will,” Seia said.
“And you?”
“I think I’ll remember. Your fingers trembling right now. You crying right now. You saying the name Junho right now. All of it—that’s you to me.”
Kang Liou kissed her forehead lightly. Like a blessing. Like the only gratitude he could express.
“My father can’t know about this,” he said suddenly.
“Know what?”
“This. What I’m like. That I’m like this because of Junho. He’d see it as weakness. And he’d use it.”
Seia knew almost nothing about Kang Liou’s father. He rarely spoke of him. But when that name came up now, she felt its weight. It wasn’t just a father. It was the source of everything.
“I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry,” Seia said.
“You’ll be mine,” Kang Liou said. There was possession in his voice. But also absolute seriousness.
“Yours?”
“Yes. You’re someone I have to protect now. From him. From the world.”
Seia heard those words. And she recognized the problem within them. Kang Liou was still speaking as a savior. Still seeing her as someone who needed protection. It was still guilt over Junho. Still unhealed.
But she chose not to argue now. Not to point it out. She decided to let this moment be silent. What Kang Liou needed wasn’t contradiction. It was presence. Someone beside him. That was all.
The waves continued. Dawn was breaking slowly. Not full morning yet, but the black sea was turning gray. And in that gray, Kang Liou and Seia stood. In the water. Holding each other.
“Should we go to Seoul?” Kang Liou asked, as if he’d made a decision.
“What?”
“I’m taking you to Seoul. And this time, I’ll do it differently.”
“Differently how?”
“This time, I’ll protect your music. With your name. With your voice.”
Seia heard the promise. She knew it for what it was. Promises can be broken. But right now, in this moment, it was everything. It was hope.
“What’s your real name?” Seia asked suddenly.
“What?”
“Your real name. Not Kang Liou. Not that. I think there’s another name.”
Kang Liou laughed. Another laugh. Louder this time.
“There isn’t. I’ve been Kang Liou since birth. The name my father gave me. My father’s creation. So I was his too.”
“Still?”
“I don’t know anymore. Since I met you, something’s changed.”
Seia heard it. And she knew it wasn’t a lie. Kang Liou truly felt that something had shifted. Whether it was good or bad, she couldn’t yet say. But something had definitely changed.
“Should we get out?” Seia said. Their clothes were soaked through. Their bodies were cold. But their hands were still warm. The hands holding each other were still warm.
Kang Liou took her hand and led her from the water onto the sand. Their footprints were immediately erased by the waves. As if they’d never been there. As if it had all been a dream.
But it wasn’t a dream. The hands were still warm. And Kang Liou was still beside her.
In the car driving back to the hotel, Kang Liou drove with one hand and held Seia’s hand with the other. She looked out the window. Jeju at dawn. Many things still lay in darkness, but the horizon was slowly brightening.
“What will you do tomorrow?” Seia asked.
“About what?”
“What you said. About protecting my music. How?”
Kang Liou didn’t answer. Instead, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
“I don’t know yet. But I will. I promise.”
That was all. A promise. That was all they could manage now.
6:30 AM. When they arrived at the hotel, the sky was nearly bright. Kang Liou didn’t get out of the car. Only Seia did.
“Don’t regret it,” he said through the window.
“Regret what?”
“This night. Holding me. All of it.”
Seia didn’t answer. Just nodded. Then she went into the hotel.
When she returned to her room, Seia stood before the mirror. She looked at her face. Wet hair. Red eyes. Salt-stung skin. And in all of that, she was alive. More alive than yesterday.
She turned on her phone. Several messages. From Haeul. From Dohyun. From an unknown number.
Haeul’s last message was this:
“Hey, what are you doing? Answer me. Seriously. What are you doing in Jeju? If you’re there with that Kang Liou guy, I’m coming down there myself…”
Seia laughed. Haeul was still Haeul. Wherever Seia was, whatever she was doing, Haeul would try to protect her.
She typed back:
“I’m okay. Everything’s okay. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
And sent it.
Dohyun’s message was this:
“Noona, where are you? Mom keeps asking because of school. Can you answer?”
Seia sighed. Dohyun. The person she had to protect. The person she had to do everything for. But something was changing now. Kang Liou had promised. He’d protect her music. So what could she do?
She typed:
“Dohyun, I’m sorry. I’ll come back tomorrow. And we need to talk about something. Something important.”
She sent it.
Then she lay down on the bed. Stared at the ceiling. White ceiling. Nothing above it. But in Seia’s mind, there were many things. Kang Liou’s hand. The name Han Junho. The sound of waves. And the dawn sea.
All of it was mixed together. And Seia knew. Something had truly changed. Tomorrow wasn’t yesterday. And she wasn’t yesterday’s version of herself.
7:00 AM. Through the window, Jeju’s morning sunlight came in. Warm light. Light that illuminates everything. Seia closed her eyes in that light. And she dreamed. Hoping it was only a dream.
Chapter 60: END