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# Chapter 71: The Names of Broken Things
Kang Riu did not get out of the car.
5:47 AM. The riverside road beside the Han River. In that unsettling hour before dawn, Kang Riu remained in the passenger seat, and Sea held his hand. She couldn’t let go. She was afraid that if she released him, his fingers would turn the steering wheel again. That they would veer toward death once more.
“It’s okay now.”
Sea spoke. It was a lie. She knew she was lying, and Kang Riu knew it too. But neither of them was ready to speak the truth. The truth seemed like it would shatter everything in this car. Like the waters of the Han River. Once a crack forms, everything gets sucked in.
“I killed Junho.”
Kang Riu said it. His voice was stone. Speaking stone. Something not soft.
“You didn’t.”
“I didn’t celebrate. That’s what killed him. My hatred. My jealousy.”
“That’s not it either.”
Sea gripped his hand harder. His fingers trembled in her palm. Like a bird trapped in a cage. But that bird had already been dead for years. Since Berlin.
“You didn’t lose that competition. You did everything you could do. What comes after that isn’t your responsibility.”
“What do you really know? You’ve never lived my life. You don’t know what I did, what I thought, how much I hated. You—”
Kang Riu’s voice rose. Then stopped. As if he’d realized who he was really angry at.
Sea remained silent. That silence was the strongest answer. I saw you. All your hatred, all your despair, all your lies. And I’m still here.
Kang Riu looked out the window. The Han River’s water was still black. Dawn hadn’t come yet. It was that time between night and day. When something dies and something else is born.
“What have I given you?”
Kang Riu asked. The question was for himself, not for Sea.
“You listened to my song.”
Sea answered.
“Is there anything else?”
“There’s nothing else.”
Kang Riu laughed. This time it didn’t look like a spasm. It was real laughter. Desperate laughter. The kind of laughter when the world is a joke.
“So all I gave you was a car accident.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“You cried in front of me.”
Kang Riu looked at Sea. Her face was becoming clearer by the moment. Dawn was coming. The inside of his car was gradually brightening. Sea’s face was changing from gray to blue, from blue to purple. The colors of dawn light.
“I tried to kill you. And you—”
“I stopped you.”
“Why?”
Sea didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted his hand. She brought each of his fingers to her lips. And she blew on them. As if those fingers were candles to be extinguished. Or perhaps, candles to be lit.
“Your fingers want to make music.”
Sea said.
“What does music do? My friend is dead. What does music do?”
“Your friend’s death wasn’t because of music. Music saved you. It’s been saving you since you came back from Berlin. Music is the reason you’re alive. And it still is.”
Kang Riu’s hand moved in Sea’s palm. The trembling lessened slightly. As if her words were working like medicine on his fingers, calming them.
“If my father finds out—”
“He knows.”
Sea said.
“Knows what?”
“That your father hates you. No, that’s not it. That your father wants to own you. That’s not love. That’s control. And you’ve known it for a long time.”
Kang Riu said nothing. His silence confirmed that Sea was right.
“You didn’t try to leave the company because of me. You already wanted to leave. You just needed a reason. I’m glad I could be that reason.”
Sea continued.
“But what you need to do isn’t call my name or hold my hand. What you need to do is sit at the piano.”
“I can’t. My hands—”
“Your hands shake. I know. But that’s not what you can’t do. What you can’t do is have the courage to fail.”
Sea’s voice grew louder. Now she was angry. The anger that had been building for so long. The anger of all those times she held his hand.
“You listened to my song and resented your fingers. You heard my voice and thought of music you couldn’t make. And you thought I would save you. But I can’t save you. Only you can.”
Kang Riu released Sea’s hand. For the first time. His hand trembled in the air. And it moved. Toward the car’s steering wheel. No, past it. Through the window. Toward the Han River.
“What are you trying to do now?”
Sea asked. Her voice was calm now. Even peaceful. As if she already knew the ending.
“I don’t know. I never know what comes next.”
Kang Riu answered.
“Then ask yourself.”
“Ask what?”
“What you really want. Not what your father wants. Not what your friend would have wanted. Not what I want. What you yourself want.”
Kang Riu was silent for a long time. The silence stretched so long that Sea thought he’d lost the ability to answer. But he hadn’t. He was thinking. Thinking from the tips of his fingers, all the way back to his heart.
“I want to make music.”
Finally, Kang Riu spoke.
“Yes.”
“I have to play the piano. Not for anyone else. Just for myself. For my fingers. For my friend. And—”
Kang Riu paused.
“And?”
“For you.”
Sea didn’t answer his words. Instead, she opened the car door. Outside air flowed in. The smell of the Han River. The smell of asphalt. And the smell of dawn air. The smell of something dying and something being born.
“Get out.”
Sea said.
“What?”
“Get out. Now. From this car.”
Kang Riu looked at Sea. Her face was now completely illuminated. Dawn had come. True dawn. The moment where darkness ends and light begins.
“You’re not coming with me?”
“No. You’re leaving, and I’m staying.”
“Why?”
Sea pointed to the Han River. The water was no longer black. It had become blue. A blue that still held traces of night. But it was growing brighter.
“The water saw you. It saw what you were about to do. And the water let you go. You’ve been given another chance to live.”
“And you?”
“I need to see how you use that chance. Not by staying with you. From far away. To confirm that you truly live for yourself.”
Kang Riu took Sea’s hand. For the last time.
“When can I see you again?”
“When you play the piano. When you’ve created your own music. That’s when I’ll come find you.”
“How many months from now will that be?”
“I don’t know. That’s what your fingers will decide.”
Sea got out of the car. When her feet touched the asphalt, the dawn air brushed against her face. She looked back. Kang Riu was still sitting in the car. In the passenger seat.
“Drive.”
Sea said. It was not a suggestion. It was a command. And Kang Riu obeyed it. He rose from the passenger seat. Slowly. Very slowly. As if his body was turning to stone. But he moved. To the driver’s seat. And placed his hands on the steering wheel.
His hands trembled.
“Are your fingers shaking?”
Sea asked. Now she was outside the car. The wind from the Han River stirred her hair.
“Yes.”
Kang Riu answered.
“Then don’t drive. Wait here.”
“Wait for what?”
“Until the sun rises completely. Then your fingers will shake less.”
Kang Riu released the steering wheel. His hands fell back to his lap. Where they trembled. Like a bird trapped in a cage.
Sea walked away from the car. Toward the Han River. To the water’s edge. Her footsteps changed from asphalt to gravel. And she stopped. At the point where she could see the water. There she waited. Waiting for the sun to rise.
5:52 AM.
The Han River’s water began to catch the light. First, a thin line. Then a beam, then rays. Sea watched it. That moment where darkness ends and light begins. In that moment, something dies and something is born. Everything begins again every morning. That is the name of dawn. Beginning again. The name of broken things made new.
Sea opened her fingers. They gleamed in the sunlight. Transparent fingers. Fingers where veins were visible. Fingers that were alive. She makes music with those fingers. Not for anyone. For herself.
She opened her mouth. She didn’t sing. She just exhaled. Long and thin. Like a signal that death was passing. No, like a signal that death had passed.
Behind her, the sound of an engine. Kang Riu had started driving. His fingers would have been shaking less. Because dawn had come. And in dawn, everything seems possible. The dead, the broken, the trembling.
Sea didn’t turn around. She heard his car drive away. Along the riverside road. Somewhere. Perhaps to his house. Perhaps to somewhere with a piano. Perhaps for himself.
The Han River’s water shattered in the sunlight. Like millions of tiny flames. Sea watched it. And she understood. Not all flames are destructive. Some flames burn. Some flames illuminate.
6:03 AM.
Sea’s phone rang. A call from the sky. Her friend.
“Hey Sea. Are you okay? Where are you? You didn’t answer all night.”
Sea picked up her phone. Her voice came out. Again. For the first time, a whole voice.
“Hi, Haneul. I’m at the Han River. It’s dawn. It’s really beautiful.”
“Are you crazy? At this hour? What did you do? Where did you spend the night?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. But Haneul, I’ve made a decision.”
“What is it?”
“I’m going to find my song. The one Park So-jin sang. I’m going to find it again. And I’m going to release it under my own name.”
On the other end of the phone, Haneul burst out laughing. A loud, clear, confident laugh.
“So now you’re fighting. Crazy. I’ve been telling you this all along. You need to fight for your music. And now you are.”
“I haven’t even started yet. I might lose.”
“No, you can do it. You already got out of that car with Kang Riu. The car where he was about to kill himself. You can beat Park So-jin.”
Sea laughed. She didn’t realize she was laughing.
“Thank you, Haneul.”
“What did I help with? You did it yourself. I just stood beside you.”
“That’s necessary too. Just standing beside someone.”
Sea looked at the Han River again. It was now completely bright. Blue. Bright blue. The water looked like water. Not like flames.
“I’m going to go now. I need to get home. I have to make breakfast for Do-hyun before school.”
“At this hour?”
“Yes. Because it’s dawn, I have plenty of time. Eggs rolled in the way Do-hyun likes them, seaweed soup, and rice. Just rice.”
“You’re really something. You stay up all night for a man and make breakfast at dawn. You’re crazy.”
“But this time it’s different.”
Sea said.
“How?”
“This time I didn’t stay up to save a man. I saved myself. And that man has to save himself.”
Sea hung up the phone. And she left the Han River. From the water’s edge. Her footsteps changed from gravel to asphalt. Again.
6:17 AM.
Sea headed home. Alone. Without holding anyone’s hand. Her hands were hers. Her feet were hers. Her voice was hers.
And for the first time in a long time, Sea hummed her own song. In the empty dawn streets. Only for herself.
The song wasn’t finished yet. It had no lyrics. Just a melody. Like a sound from water. Like the breathing sound of a diver. Like proof of being alive.
Cars passed on the riverside road. Cars running in the dawn. People heading to their destinations. Sea was one of them now. Not someone following someone else. Not someone waiting for someone else. Someone going in her own direction.
A studio in Hapjeong. A narrow room. A wall of another house visible through the window. Do-hyun would be sleeping there. His last sleep before school. His last moment of stillness.
And Sea would make him breakfast. Rolled eggs and seaweed soup and rice.
6:29 AM.
Sea’s fingers didn’t shake. Not like Kang Riu’s hands. They moved like flowing water. Clear. Precise. For herself.
And the song she sang continued. In the empty dawn streets. But someone will hear it. Later. At the right time. Under the right name. That song that Na Sea sings.
# A Morning Stroll in Dawn
## Part 1: The Water of the Han River
5:42 AM. The air by the Han River was bitterly cold.
Sea twisted and spread her fingers repeatedly. They felt like they weren’t her own. Like she was borrowing someone else’s hands. That was right. That’s how she’d lived. Not making her own life with her own hands, but being pulled along by someone else’s.
“No.”
Sea muttered. Her voice was rough. Was it because she’d been up all night, or was she simply unfamiliar with her own voice?
“You can do this.”
She said it again. This time, louder. Cutting through the dawn air by the Han River.
“You already got out of Kang Riu’s car. The car where he was about to kill himself. You came out alive from that car. You can beat Park So-jin.”
She felt how pitiful these words were. The fact that she had to say these things to herself. But at the same time, she felt how necessary they were. She couldn’t waste time waiting for someone else to say these words to her. She had to become her own voice.
The Han River’s water rippled before her eyes. The water caught in dawn light was not black. When Sea first arrived, she had thought it was flame. A darkness like flame that could swallow everything. She had thought that if she jumped into that water, everything would end.
But now the water was different.
“Now the water looks like water.”
Sea whispered.
“Not like flame.”
The water was still black, but it was depth. Not an ending, but depth. A depth with a bottom. Not darkness, but the darkness of dawn that hadn’t yet brightened.
That was when Haneul appeared.
Sea hadn’t expected anyone to come. In this dawn hour, to this riverbank, she didn’t expect anyone.
“What are you doing?”
Haneul’s voice was soft. But it was a neutral softness that contained no judgment. Sea felt her shoulders relax a little when she heard that voice.
“I was thinking.”
Sea answered.
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
Haneul stood beside Sea without speaking. They both looked at the Han River. 5:45 AM. The sky was slowly brightening.
“What about Do-hyun?”
Haneul asked.
“He’s sleeping at home. It’s still before school.”
“And you stayed up all night?”
“Yes.”
Sea looked at Haneul. Haneul’s face looked tired too. Yet here she was. She came to find her.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“I didn’t. I just… had a feeling you’d come.”
Haneul answered.
“Did Park So-jin contact you again?”
“Yes. And she mentioned Kang Riu. What that man is about to do. It seemed like she wanted something from me.”
Sea’s hands trembled. Right. This was it. This trembling that was crushing her. This endless sense of responsibility to save someone. This heavy emotion that someone’s life depended on her choice.
“So?”
Haneul asked.
“What are you going to do?”
Sea looked at the Han River again. And in that moment, something changed inside her. Like deep water creating a whirlpool, making a new current. The change wasn’t dramatic. It was very quiet, very certain.
“I’m not going to do anything.”
Sea said.
“What?”
Haneul asked in surprise.
“I’m not going to save Kang Riu. I’m not going to try to beat Park So-jin. I’m… I’m going to save myself. That’s all.”
Sea’s voice didn’t shake. It was calm, like the breath exhaled after breathing in the cold dawn air by the Han River.
“You can do it. You already—”
Haneul started to speak.
“Already got out of Kang Riu’s car? Already beat Park So-jin?”
Sea finished Haneul’s words.
“Yes.”
“I know. But that’s not because I saved someone. It’s because I didn’t give up on myself.”
Sea was surprised by her own voice. Was this really her voice? This determined voice? This clear voice?
“Thank you, Haneul.”
Sea said.
“For what?”
“For being here. For standing beside me.”
Haneul laughed. The laugh contained some sadness and much relief.
“What did I help with? You did it yourself. I just stood beside you.”
“That’s necessary too.”
Sea answered.
“Just standing beside someone. When you know you’re not alone, people change.”
Sea looked at the Han River again. The dawn light was slowly illuminating the water. Black was changing to deep blue. The color of living water.
## Part 2: A Decision at Dawn
“I need to go now.”
Sea said.
“At this hour?”
Haneul asked in surprise.
“Yes. I need to get home. I have to make breakfast for Do-hyun before school.”
“Breakfast? Now?”
“Yes. Because it’s dawn, I have plenty of time to cook. Rolled eggs the way Do-hyun likes them, seaweed soup. And rice. Just rice.”
Sea pulled her hands from her pockets. Her fingers were still trembling. But that trembling was different from before. It wasn’t the trembling of fear. It was the trembling of vitality. The trembling of hands about to create something new.
Haneul muttered.
“You’re really something. You stay up all night for a man and make breakfast at dawn. You’re crazy.”
Sea laughed at those words. She was surprised that this laugh was hers. How long had it been since she laughed so lightly?
“But this time it’s different.”
Sea said.
“How?”
“This time I didn’t stay up to save a man. I saved myself. And that man… he has to save himself.”
Sea left the Han River. Her footsteps changed from gravel to asphalt. Like returning to solid ground. To the real world, to real life.
6:17 AM.
Sea headed home. Alone. Without holding anyone’s hand. Her hands were hers. Her feet were hers. Her voice was hers.
## Part 3: A Song at Dawn
Walking along the riverside road, Sea began humming something without realizing it.
In the empty dawn streets. Only for herself.
The song wasn’t finished yet. It had no lyrics. Just a melody. Like a sound from water. Like the breathing sound of a diver. Like proof of being alive.
Where did the melody come from? Sea tried to remember when she started singing this song, but she couldn’t remember. As if this song had always been inside her. As if she had only just found the courage to let it out.
Cars passed on the riverside road. Cars running in the dawn. People heading to their destinations. Sea was one of them now. Not someone following someone. Not someone waiting for someone. Someone going in her own direction.
That thought quickened Sea’s steps.
## Part 4: A Studio in Hapjeong
A studio in Hapjeong. An old building. A narrow room. A wall of another house visible through the window.
Do-hyun would be sleeping there.
Sea opened the door with her own key. Her own key. Her own room. Her own life.
Do-hyun was still sleeping. His face buried in the pillow. His last sleep before school. The last moment when his body doesn’t have to move.
Sea looked at Do-hyun. This child is not her child. But this child is her responsibility. Or more precisely, caring for this child is her choice.
And that choice… saves her.
Sea went into the kitchen. A narrow kitchen. An old gas stove. But it all belonged to her.
Her fingers didn’t shake. Not like Kang Riu’s hands. They moved like flowing water. Clear. Precise. For herself.
She cracked eggs. She scooped rice. She made seaweed soup.
6:29 AM.
Sea’s hands were her own.
And the song she sang continued.
That song that started in the empty dawn streets was now continuing in the old kitchen. Mixed with the sound of water boiling rice. Accompanying the sizzle of rolled eggs cooking.
The song didn’t have a name yet. But someday it would. Under the name Na Sea. As a song that Na Sea made her own.
Dawn light began to enter the room through the window. Slowly. But certainly. Night was ending.
And Sea made breakfast.
Not for Do-hyun. Not to meet someone’s expectations. Not to fill some desperate need inside her.
The act of cooking itself. The act of giving food to someone was already affirming her own life.
Sea scooped rice into a bowl.
She put rolled eggs on a plate.
She poured seaweed soup into a bowl and dropped a single drop of sesame oil in the center.
And she woke Do-hyun.
“Do-hyun. Breakfast is ready.”
Do-hyun sat up. Rubbing his eyes.
“Did hyung make breakfast?”
Do-hyun asked.
Sea laughed at that question.
“Yes. Hyung made it.”
Sea looked at Do-hyun, who called her hyung. Do-hyun thought of her as a man. He called her hyung.
Sea didn’t change that name. However Do-hyun chose to call her, it was his choice.
“Eat. Before school.”
Do-hyun sat down to the meal. He picked up a spoon.
He took his first bite.
“Is it good?”
Sea asked.
Do-hyun nodded.
“Yes. It’s good because hyung made it.”
Those words filled Sea’s chest with something. She couldn’t tell exactly what it was. But it wasn’t a negative feeling. It was warm, certain, and heavy.
A good kind of heaviness. Not the heaviness of responsibility, but the heaviness of existence.
Sea scooped rice for herself and ate.
It was really delicious.
## Part 5: The Road to School
While Do-hyun was gathering his things for school, Sea looked out the window.
The sky was completely bright now. Dawn had ended. Morning had begun.
“Hyung, I need to go.”
Do-hyun said.
“Okay. Have a good day.”
Sea answered.
Do-hyun opened the door, then stopped and turned back.
“Hyung, thank you. For making breakfast.”
Do-hyun said.
Sea felt something warm bloom in her chest again.
“You’re welcome.”
Do-hyun left for school.
And Sea was alone again.
But alone meant something different now. It wasn’t loneliness. It was solitude. The solitude of someone standing on her own two feet.
She cleaned the dishes. The water ran warm over her hands. Her fingers moved with purpose. Clear and precise.
And as she washed the dishes, she continued to hum that song. The one without a name yet. The melody that had been inside her all along.
The kitchen filled with that melody. Mixed with the sound of water and the clink of dishes.
She was alone, but she was not empty.
She was alone, but she was whole.