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# Chapter 160: The Inheritance of Silence
Dohyun had headed for the elevator when Seah remained standing in the hallway. She couldn’t move. As if her legs no longer belonged to her. Dohyun’s figure grew smaller and smaller. That seventeen-year-old back. It disappeared through the hospital room door. And Seah was left alone.
The hospital corridor remained bright. That brightness overwhelmed her. Beneath the fluorescent lights, Seah began to question whether she truly existed. Her outline was dim in the reflected glare. As if she were slowly fading away. As if she had already disappeared.
Father is inside you.
Her mother’s voice still echoed in her ears. It wasn’t words—it was a kind of curse. Or truth. Seah could no longer distinguish between the two. Curse and truth carried equal weight. They pressed down on her body in the same way.
Seah found the stairs and descended. She didn’t take the elevator. She couldn’t bear to encounter someone else in that cramped space. Couldn’t withstand another’s gaze. There was a fear that she might appear not invisible but monstrous.
The first floor of the hospital was quiet. It was past ten at night. Only the lobby’s fluorescent lights were on. Seah stood before a vending machine. She didn’t need a drink. She simply needed to stop. To freeze somewhere. As if staying still would prevent her from falling further.
“Are you alright?”
A nurse asked as she passed. Her voice carried routine concern rather than genuine interest. The automatic words that came from working in hospitals. Seah didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. How could she? Everyone could see she wasn’t alright.
Seah’s hands trembled. Like her father’s hands. Like Kanglyuu’s hands. All the hands in this family were shaking. As if it were part of their DNA. As if it were part of their fate.
When she stepped outside the hospital, night air wrapped around her. Seoul’s night air. It was neither warm nor cold. Only heavy. As if someone’s hand pressed on her shoulder. As if that hand would never let go.
Seah began walking. Without knowing where to go. Following where her legs took her. Along the streets near the hospital. Seoul at eleven at night still lived. Taxis passed. Convenience store lights glowed. Voices came from somewhere’s pojangmacha tent.
Seah stopped at a convenience store. A GS25. Similar to the place she used to work. Fluorescent lights blazed inside. Several people were there. Someone who looked like a college student. A middle-aged woman. Someone who looked like an office worker. They were all ordinary. All normal. And Seah was not them.
Seah entered the convenience store. For no reason. She simply wanted to exist in that bright space. She wanted the illusion of being part of normalcy.
She stood before the refrigerator. Drinks lined up. Cider. Sprite. Beer. Makgeolli. Seah’s hand picked one up. A warm beverage. Hot chocolate. She carried it to the register.
“Hello.”
The cashier spoke. A young woman. Probably a college or high school student. Her name tag read ‘Jieun.’ Jieun. Seah repeated the name silently. Inside her mouth. Not aloud. As if she wanted to hide that name inside herself.
“That’s 3,500 won.”
Jieun said.
Seah paid. She held out her credit card. The machine read it. A beep sounded. That sound. It was a signal that the world acknowledged Seah’s existence. At least for this moment.
“Thank you.”
Jieun smiled. That smile wasn’t sincere. It was part of the job. But to Seah, that false smile seemed warmer. Because it was predictable. Because it expected nothing.
When she stepped outside the convenience store, Seah drank the hot chocolate. It was warm. She burned her tongue slightly. That pain felt good. Because it was proof that she still lived. Proof that she could still feel something.
Her phone rang. It was Haeul.
“Seah. Where are you?”
Haeul’s voice was calm. But anxiety hid within it. The kind of anxiety hidden deep in dark water.
“Are you okay?”
Seah didn’t answer. How could she? If she said she wasn’t okay, Haeul would worry more. And Seah couldn’t bear that. Mom’s worry was already enough. Dohyun’s anger was already enough.
“Seah?”
Haeul called again.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
It was a lie. An obvious lie. But it was the only thing Seah could say.
“Did you leave the hospital?”
“Yeah. Just left.”
“Mom?”
“She’s okay. The doctor said she’s stabilizing.”
Another lie. Seah was lying. She continued to lie. As naturally as breathing. As a method of survival.
“Seah, be honest with me. Where are you right now?”
Haeul’s voice grew sharper. That meant Haeul had seen through her. Haeul was always like this. When Seah lied, Haeul sensed it. Like a hound catching a scent.
“Hangang Park. Near Hapjeong Station.”
Seah said. It was a lie. She was still on the streets near the hospital. But this lie had a different purpose. She hoped Haeul wouldn’t come find her. She hoped Haeul would leave her alone.
“Hangang? At this hour?”
“Yeah. Just taking a walk.”
“Seah, come on…”
Haeul sighed. That sigh. It was the sigh of surrender. As if Haeul had decided she could no longer understand Seah.
“See you tomorrow. Come to my shop.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it. Tomorrow. 10 a.m.”
“Got it.”
Seah said. And hung up.
Seoul’s night was growing quieter. Midnight approached. Seah continued walking. Without purpose. Without direction. Just to move. As if movement itself were proof of something.
At a street corner, Seah saw her reflection. Herself reflected in a shop window. That image was so unfamiliar. Was that really her? That person with narrow shoulders. That person with empty eyes. Was that really her?
Seah kept walking. Leaving her reflection behind. As if abandoning it. As if realizing it was another Seah.
You’re avoiding father while searching for him at the same time.
Her mother’s voice came again. It echoed in the air. Like a ghost that had followed her since leaving the hospital.
You’re trying to erase your own voice.
That was true. Seah knew it. She knew what she was doing. She knew where she was going. But she couldn’t stop. As if it were gravity. As if it were the instinct to hold her breath.
Seah stopped before a tea shop. It was still open. 11:40 p.m. Inside were several people. They all seemed to be waiting for something. Or fleeing from something. Seah couldn’t distinguish between the two.
Seah entered the tea shop. She sat in a corner. By the window. A place where she could see the night street.
“What can I get you?”
The waiter asked.
“Hot chocolate.”
Seah said. Though she was still holding a warm drink.
The waiter disappeared. Seah looked out the window. People passing the street. Their footsteps. Their directions. Their destinations. Seah wondered where they were all going. Did they all know? Did they know where they were going? Why they were going there?
Seah’s hands trembled again. She observed that trembling. As if it weren’t her hands. As if they belonged to someone else. Father’s hands. Kanglyuu’s hands. Mother’s hands. Dohyun’s hands. All the hands in this family were trembling.
In that moment, Seah understood. What her mother meant. Father is inside you. It didn’t mean father’s DNA. It didn’t mean father’s fear. It meant the legacy father left her. It was silence. It was self-harm. It was the desire to erase herself.
And Seah was continuing it.
The waiter brought hot chocolate. Seah drank. She burned her tongue again slightly. That pain felt good. Because it was proof that she could still feel something.
Her phone rang again. It was Dohyun. This time not a call but a message.
“Noona. Mom’s looking for you. She keeps calling ‘Seah, Seah’ from the hospital room. Where are you?”
Seah read the message and turned off the screen. As if it didn’t exist. As if it had nothing to do with her.
But it had everything to do with her. Everything did. Mom’s pain. Dohyun’s anger. Kanglyuu’s trembling. Haeul’s worry. Everything. She created it all.
Or at least, she was continuing it.
You don’t know what you’re doing.
Her mother’s voice came again.
But this time, another interpretation was possible. Not that she didn’t know what she was doing, but that she knew what she couldn’t do. That she knew she couldn’t stop. That she knew she was already too deep.
Seah left the tea shop. Back into the night street. Past midnight now. She needed no more warm drinks. No more warmth.
Seah needed only one thing.
She didn’t even know what it was. But she had to walk to find it. Along the night streets. Following the fluorescent lights. Following her own shadow. Following father’s voice.
As if it were the only way.
As if it were her fate.
The night continued. Seah continued walking. Not knowing where she was going.