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# Chapter 116: The Defendant’s Silence
When the lawyer’s question filled the courtroom, Kang Riou didn’t move.
Saea saw it. When the lawyer said, “Then isn’t this love rather than abuse?” Kang Riou’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly. His shoulders. His neck. Those fingers. The trembling stopped. Completely stopped. As if every muscle had seized up at once.
Saea watched that frozen moment. The moment Kang Riou didn’t look at her. Didn’t look at the lawyer, didn’t look at the judge—just stared at a single point on the table. In that moment, what did Saea see?
Guilt? Calculation? Or simply collapse?
“Love and abuse are different things.”
Saea’s voice reclaimed the courtroom. It still trembled, but that trembling had transformed into something else now—not weakness, but precision. Like the resonance of a tightened string. Like the vibration when a note finally finds its pitch.
The lawyer continued. But the rhythm had shifted.
“What exactly made you decide to leave him?”
“After what happened in Jeju.”
“So you didn’t want to leave before that.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Saea closed her mouth. Before that question. Before the lawyer asking why. That person didn’t really want an answer. They were asking a question Saea couldn’t answer. Because the answer was something Saea herself didn’t know.
Why hadn’t she left?
Was it because the way Kang Riou swept his fingers across her skin felt like love? Was it because his tearless eyes were broken in exactly the same way as hers? Was it because Kang Riou needed her, and that need itself worked like a drug?
“Did the defendant cause you harm through other actions before Jeju?”
The lawyer asked again, as if Saea’s silence itself was confirmation.
“Yes.”
“What kind of actions?”
“Showing up at my hotel. Waiting near my house. Trying to check my phone.”
“Did those actions cause you physical injury?”
“No.”
“So you only suffered emotional damage.”
The lawyer stated it, and in that moment, Saea completely understood their strategy. This person had no intention of proving Kang Riou innocent. They intended to redefine his actions as “concern.” Excessive concern. An expression of affection. Possessiveness. But not violence.
And Kang Riou was hiding himself within that strategy.
“Isn’t emotional damage impossible to measure?”
The lawyer continued.
“Harm is harm.”
Saea said.
“Then can you objectively explain the intensity of the harm you felt?”
Saea looked at her own hands. Still trembling. How long had they been trembling? How unbearable was that weight? But the lawyer didn’t see it. Didn’t want to see it.
“My fingers started trembling. A year ago.”
Saea said.
“Currently as well?”
“Yes.”
“Because of your relationship with the defendant?”
Saea fell silent. And in that silence, the entire courtroom held its breath.
“Or for another reason?”
The lawyer pushed in, like a hunter sensing hesitation in prey.
Saea lifted her eyes. She looked at Kang Riou. Directly.
Kang Riou was still staring at the table. But his ears had turned red. Completely red. As if he were being punished. Or as if he’d just realized he was hurting someone.
“Did the defendant know that my hands tremble?”
Saea asked. Not the lawyer. The judge. Directly.
“Is there something you need to clarify during your testimony?”
The judge asked.
“Yes. The defendant knew my hands trembled, and he used it.”
Saea said.
“How?”
The judge’s voice had sharpened from before.
“He would hold my hand and say, ‘You need me. Only I can make you stop trembling.’”
Saea’s voice trembled. But this time it wasn’t fear. It was anger.
“Can you provide specific dates?”
“I can’t remember. There were too many. It happened every day.”
“Then what criteria did you use to judge it as abuse?”
The lawyer questioned again. The judge, not Saea. As if now they were having a conversation.
“I looked up the definition of abuse. Before coming to court. Abuse doesn’t only mean physical violence. Emotional manipulation. Isolation. Control. These are also abuse.”
Saea said.
“Did the defendant isolate you?”
“Yes. He made me stop contacting my friends.”
“How?”
“He got angry when I tried to see them. And after I saw them, he became even more possessive.”
Saea said. And in that moment, she remembered Haewon. When Haewon had called her. When Haewon asked, “Are you okay?” When she’d lied and said, “Yeah, I’m fine.” When Haewon didn’t accept it but suspected the truth instead.
Haewon had come to this courtroom. She was sitting in the back right now. Saea felt it. That support. That anger. That love.
“Did you want to be with the defendant?”
The lawyer continued.
“At first, yes.”
Saea said.
“Later?”
“Later, I couldn’t tell.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I couldn’t distinguish between wanting to be with him and feeling like I had to be with him.”
Saea said. And in that moment, Kang Riou moved.
He opened his fingers. On the table. As if those fingers were moving on their own. As if they weren’t receiving orders from his brain. As if those fingers wanted something.
The judge saw it.
“Defendant. Compose yourself.”
The judge said.
Kang Riou’s lawyer grabbed his arm. And Kang Riou went still again. He made his fingers back into a fist. But that fist was trembling. Twitching. Spasms. Commands his body couldn’t execute.
“When you ran away in Jeju, where did you go?”
The lawyer redirected Saea’s attention.
“To the police station.”
“Right away?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you wait a week?”
“In that time, Kang Riou found me. At the hotel. Before I could report him to the police.”
Saea said.
“And that became the final impetus for your decision?”
“Yes.”
“Did the defendant try to harm you?”
Saea closed her mouth. The word “harm.” Was that the right word? Did Kang Riou try to harm her? Or was he trying to dissolve her into himself? To make her part of his body. Like his hand. Like his heart.
“What specifically happened at the hotel in Jeju?”
The lawyer asked. And Saea knew. This was the most important question.
Saea closed her eyes. And in that darkness, the Jeju night returned.
Hotel lobby. 2 AM.
Kang Riou sat on the sofa. Wearing a black shirt. Holding a cigarette in his hand. But he wasn’t smoking it. Just holding it. As if that proved his hand was doing something.
Saea got off the elevator. And saw him.
“How did you find me?”
Saea asked.
“I followed you.”
Kang Riou said.
“I could access the hotel’s reservation system. My father’s company is a major shareholder.”
Kang Riou said. And it wasn’t a threat. Just a fact. Kang Riou had accessed the system to find Saea. And it was possible. Because Kang Riou’s father had that much power.
“Let’s go.”
Kang Riou said.
“Where?”
Saea asked. Already knowing.
“Home. To Seoul.”
Kang Riou said.
“No.”
Saea said.
Kang Riou stood up. And came toward her. Slowly. Like a predator approaching prey. But Kang Riou’s eyes weren’t a predator’s eyes. They were something else. Eyes that had broken. Eyes that had malfunctioned.
“We have to be together.”
Kang Riou said.
“We can’t be together.”
Saea said.
“You don’t understand. But we’re the same person. You and me. We’re both people who will burn.”
Kang Riou said. And in that moment, Saea saw how deeply addicted he was to her. That this wasn’t love. That this wasn’t salvation. That he was simply using her as a mirror.
“Get in the car.”
Kang Riou said.
“I don’t want to.”
Saea said.
Kang Riou grabbed her arm. Gently. A gentleness that could become violence. A mildness that could become control. And in that moment, Saea understood what she’d been most afraid of.
Kang Riou wasn’t trying to hurt her.
Kang Riou was trying to dissolve her into himself.
“Get in the car. Please.”
Kang Riou said. And there were tears in his voice. That voice with tears and without tears at once.
Saea stood still. And thought.
If she didn’t refuse in this moment, she would be in Kang Riou’s hands forever. That hand would make her tremble forever. That hand would control her forever. That hand would transform her forever.
“No.”
Saea said. And pulled her arm free.
And ran.
Saea’s eyes opened in the courtroom.
“Did the defendant physically coerce you at the hotel in Jeju?”
The lawyer asked.
“No.”
Saea said.
“Then what kind of coercion was there?”
“Emotional coercion. He said he would kill himself if I left him. And I believed him. So I thought I had to go with him.”
Saea said.
“Is that blackmail?”
“Yes.”
“Or couldn’t it be an expression of despair rather than blackmail?”
The lawyer said.
And Saea understood. This was the limit of the courtroom. Emotion cannot be measured by law. The difference between despair and blackmail depends on intent, and intent cannot be proven.
Kang Riou was still looking at the table.
But now his shoulders were trembling. Slightly. Quietly. As if something were gnawing at him from inside.
Saea saw it.
And realized how long she’d been waiting for Kang Riou to fall apart.
But Kang Riou’s collapse wasn’t her victory.
It was only confirmation that they’d both burned.
The lawyer continued questioning, and Saea continued answering.
The fluorescent lights kept flickering, and time kept passing.
And the courtroom remained gray.
In that gray where no one could become white, Saea said her name once more.
“I’m Saea Na.”
That was how she confirmed herself.
How she confirmed she was still here.
How she confirmed she was still burning.
2:47 PM.
Outside the courtroom. In the corridor.
Haewon embraced Saea. Without saying anything. Just held her. As if Saea might break. As if Saea might scatter.
“You did well. You really did well.”
Haewon whispered.
Saea buried her face in Haewon’s shoulder. And for the first time, she cried.
Tears she hadn’t shed in the courtroom.
Tears she’d had to hold back in the courtroom.
Tears she could shed now.
3:12 PM.
The lawyer approached Saea.
“The verdict will be in three weeks. Until then… the defendant won’t approach you. The court has issued a restraining order.”
The lawyer said.
Saea nodded. But those words didn’t reassure her. Because Saea knew.
There are things the law cannot stop.
The heart is one of them.
Memory is another.
The trembling of those fingers is too.
4:22 PM.
A text came to Saea’s phone.
From Kang Riou.
“Saea. I’m sorry. Really. Can you forgive me?”
The moment she saw that message, Saea knew.
This wasn’t the end.
This was the beginning.
And there was still something she had to do.
Saea put her phone down.
And sat on the steps outside the courtroom.
Looking at Seoul’s gray sky.
She looked at her hands.
Still trembling.
“How long will they tremble?”
Saea murmured.
“Don’t know.”
Haewon said, sitting down beside her.
“But you’re standing even while trembling. That’s what matters.”
Haewon said.
Saea took Haewon’s hand.
A warm hand.
A hand that doesn’t control.
A hand that simply says it’s here.
Holding that hand, Saea understood for the first time.
If Kang Riou’s hand made her tremble, then Haewon’s hand could make her stop.
But whose hand should her own hand be?
That was the question Saea needed to ask now.
That was the question she had to carry with her when leaving this courtroom.
What will she do with her own hands?
Who will she sing for with her own voice?
What will she burn with her own fire?
The courtroom door closed.
The judge stayed inside.
Kang Riou stayed inside too.
But Saea was outside.
Breathing the air outside.
With trembling hands.
But standing.
11:47 PM.
Saea’s room.
A semi-basement gosiwon in Hapjeong-dong.
The fluorescent light flickered.
In that light, Saea looked at her hands again.
And for the first time, she decided not to do anything with them that she didn’t want to do.
She opened her fingers.
And hummed music.
For herself.
Not for Kang Riou.
Not for anyone.
Purely for herself.
She didn’t yet know what that music was.
But fire was burning.
Inside.
“I’m here.”
Saea murmured.
“I’m still burning.”
“But now it’s my fire.”
END OF CHAPTER 116
[NEXT CHAPTER PREVIEW]
The judge’s verdict will be delivered. What crime will the court find the defendant guilty of? And will Saea be able to accept that verdict? More importantly—what will Kang Riou do after that verdict? Will his hands still tremble?
And Saea. Is her hand ready to sing now?
Chapter 117: “Guilty”