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# Chapter 147: The Boundary Between Salvation and Destruction
Kang Liou’s fingers went still. Completely. No more movement, no more trembling. As if someone had severed his nerves entirely. And in that silence, Sea realized something. All the reasons this man had hurt her—they were never really about her. They were all directed at him. At that friend he’d left behind in Berlin.
“I was trying to save you.”
Kang Liou barely managed the words. His voice was shattered. Like a broken instrument. The kind of sound that emerges from a box sealed shut for years. Sea looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time. Until now, she’d only seen the perpetrator. The person who’d hurt her. The criminal standing before the judge in court. But now, in this moment, leaning against a table under the fluorescent lights of a café, this man was different.
He was a victim. Of his own hands. Of his own guilt. Of a person he couldn’t save.
“Even if that’s not salvation…”
Kang Liou lifted his head slowly. His eyes met hers. And in those eyes, Sea saw her own face reflected. But it wasn’t like a mirror. It was a projection. Someone else’s face that Kang Liou had painted over hers. That friend from Berlin. Or his ghost.
“…at least I didn’t want to let you go.”
The moment those words fell, Sea understood how long she’d been waiting for them. Words she’d never heard in court. Not answers coached by lawyers, but Kang Liou’s true voice. Yet when she heard it, what she felt wasn’t victory. Not that reconciliation that comes after a perpetrator’s confession, the kind you see in Korean dramas. What Sea felt was exhausted sorrow. The sorrow that everything had come too late.
“I know.”
Sea said it. And she knew those two syllables were the cruelest words she could speak. Because “I know” wasn’t the same as “I understand”—it was “I acknowledge.” And acknowledgment wasn’t forgiveness.
Kang Liou’s face darkened further. As if someone were dimming the café’s fluorescent lights bit by bit. His lips moved. He was trying to say something. But Sea already knew what it would be. “I’m sorry.” Or “I love you.” Or “Come back.” And she’d already heard all those words. Already refused them. Already been hurt by them enough.
Sea stood up. She rose from her seat and headed toward the café entrance. In doing so, she didn’t look back at him. Because if she did, she knew she’d fall into the same feeling again. Pity. Guilt. The delusion that she could save him. She didn’t want to repeat her mother’s mistake—thirty years of regret.
“Sea.”
That’s when Kang Liou called out from behind. It wasn’t a shout. Just a name being called. The most basic summons. But it held everything. The fact that no one had ever called him this way. That his name had never mattered to anyone. And that right now, in this moment, the person calling his name was leaving him.
Sea didn’t stop. She kept walking. She pushed through the café door. Seoul’s night air enveloped her. The cold night air of Gangnam. The air of an alley where no one walked. And in that air, Sea finally breathed. Really breathed. Not breathing for someone else, but breathing for her own body.
Her phone rang. A text message alert. Sea heard it at a convenience store near Gangnam Station. Her fingers lit up the screen. The message was from Hayul.
“Are you crazy? What are you doing? Do Hyun called you all day. Mom too. She asked me where you were and I said I don’t know. Where are you right now?”
Sea didn’t reply. Instead, she just left the screen on. Under the convenience store’s fluorescent lights, her face looked pale. As if all her color had drained away. Three hours ago she’d been in Seoul, and she was still in Seoul now, yet she felt like she’d already left somewhere. Her body was at a convenience store near Gangnam Station, but her mind was elsewhere.
She thought back to her last conversation with Kang Liou. His expression when she’d said “I know.” And his voice from behind her as she left. It had been so small. Like it was coming from far away. No, that wasn’t true. Sea had just closed her ears. Pretended not to hear.
Sea stood for a long time in front of the convenience store’s frozen food section. Kimbap triangles, gimbap, lunch boxes—all cooling down. Just like her. Growing colder and colder. The flame that had burned for someone else was slowly dying out. And she thought that was right. This was the correct choice.
Her phone rang again. This time it was a call. Do Hyun. She didn’t press the answer button. Just let it ring. One, two, three… She was counting the rings. As if proving that she was still alive right now. Yes, I’m here. I’m receiving texts, taking calls, breathing. Like that.
The call ended. Three seconds later, it rang again. Do Hyun was the type who didn’t give up. If once didn’t work, he’d call again. And again. Just like her. She’d done the same thing to Kang Liou. Once wasn’t enough, so she’d call again. She’d kept coming back, kept asking, kept trying to hold on.
This time, she decided to answer.
“Noona!”
Do Hyun’s voice came through the speaker. It was surprise and relief all at once. How many times he’d called, how long he’d waited—it was all contained in that single word.
“Yeah.”
Sea answered with the shortest syllable possible.
“Where are you? What are you doing? Why didn’t you answer? Mom’s been up all night because of you. I tried to calm her down but I don’t know what to say. Noona, what are you doing? What’s going on?”
Do Hyun’s words poured out. Listening to them, Sea realized how irresponsible she’d been. Leaving Mom alone, burdening Do Hyun like this, lying to Hayul. And she’d burned everything for Kang Liou. Her time, her emotions, even her family.
“I’m sorry.”
Sea said it.
“Sorry? Noona, what are you saying? What did I do wrong? What did Mom do wrong? Why did you suddenly disappear? Why won’t you answer? Why do you keep apologizing?”
Do Hyun’s voice rose. Even through the phone, his emotions came through. Anger, fear, and the feeling of being abandoned.
“Is it because of Kang Liou? Did you disappear because of that guy? Noona, he’s a bad person. The judge said so in court. He’s a bad person. So why do you keep going back to him? Why do you keep returning?”
Sea didn’t answer. Because Do Hyun’s questions were her own questions too. Why do you keep going back? Why do you keep trying to forgive? Why do you keep trying to save? And the most important question: who are you saving? Kang Liou, or yourself?
“Noona, please. Come back. Come to Mom. Come to me. Not to that guy.”
Do Hyun’s voice grew smaller. The anger faded. What remained was a plea. The purest form of pleading. A plea to get his sister back.
“I’m coming.”
Sea said it. It was the truth. She was coming back now. She’d left the café, entered the convenience store, and now she was going to call a taxi. A taxi heading toward Gangnam Station. She’d take it to Hongdae. She’d go to Hayul. Then to Mom. Then to Do Hyun.
“Really?”
Do Hyun asked. His voice still uncertain.
“Really.”
Sea answered.
The taxi was heading toward the Han River. 11:30 PM, Seoul at night. The night view of Gangnam visible through the car window was so bright. As if there were no boundary between day and night. Even in such a bright place, people were hiding their darkness. Like Kang Liou. Like herself. Everyone in this bright city called Seoul was concealing their own darkness.
The taxi driver was listening to the radio. A late-night music program. Someone’s voice came through. A female vocalist. A sad melody. As Sea listened to the song, she looked at her own hands. Her fingers were trembling. Not regularly, but still trembling. Just like Kang Liou’s. She had inherited his trembling. The same aftereffect.
But there was a difference too. Kang Liou’s fingers were fingers that had stopped playing piano. Her fingers were still capable of doing something. Still capable of holding onto someone. Still capable of choosing.
She was not Kang Liou.
The song on the radio ended. Then the DJ’s voice came through.
“This song is sung by a relatively new artist, and apparently the composer is someone whose name hasn’t been revealed yet. Someone sings the song, and someone creates it. The beauty of the moment when two voices become one.”
As Sea heard those words, she thought of her own songs. The ones she’d created with Kang Liou. The songs she’d written. The songs that didn’t have her name on them. Songs that were still being called by someone else’s name. And those songs would never remember her. Because she hadn’t left her name on them.
But did that matter?
The taxi entered Hongdae. It was night, but the streets were still full of people. Club music spilled out onto the street. The voices of drunk people could be heard. And in the background of all of it, there was the sound of someone’s guitar. Live music pouring out from inside a club.
Sea realized what she’d been missing so much. Not Kang Liou. Or rather, Kang Liou was part of it, but that wasn’t all of it. What she’d been missing was this street. This music. Her own music. The moments when her song came out of someone’s mouth, entered someone’s ears, and moved someone’s heart.
And for that to happen, she had to be alive first. She had to sing for herself. Not a flame that burned for others, but a flame that burned for her.
The taxi stopped near Hayul’s tattoo shop. It was night, but the shop’s lights were on. Hayul always worked late nights. Customers preferred evening hours. Sea got out of the taxi. She offered money. The driver gave her change. Sea didn’t take it.
“Keep it.”
Sea said. It was her first choice. A small choice, but entirely her own.
When she pushed open the shop door, Hayul was tattooing a customer’s arm. A matchstick-shaped tattoo. Sea saw it. And she understood what Hayul had been doing for her.
Hayul looked up. And saw Sea. No words were spoken. Just one exchange of glances. That was enough.
“I’m sorry.”
Sea said.
“Wow. You’re always sorry.”
Hayul said. But it wasn’t an accusation. It was an observation. And in that observation, there was love.
“Not anymore.”
Sea said.
And in that moment, Sea finally understood who she was. Not Kang Liou’s object of salvation. Not Do Hyun’s older sister. Not Mom’s daughter. Not Hayul’s friend. Just Sea. The girl who burned. The girl who burned for nothing. But now, the girl who burned for herself.
The tattoo shop’s light was shining on her. And under that light, Sea finally smiled. A small smile. But a real smile.