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# Chapter 168: Silence in the Closed Circuit
Dohyun’s voice was already shattered by the time it came through the phone. When Saea turned on her screen in the lobby chair on the first floor, the voicemails played in sequence. First message at 2:14 AM. “Unnie, Mom came to the hospital. What were you doing?” Second at 2:47 AM. “Unnie, pick up.” Third at 3:22 AM. “Where the hell are you?” Fourth at 3:58 AM. After that, no more voice messages—just text. “Mom’s in danger.” “Ambulance is here.” “ICU.” And finally, at 5:13 AM. “Unnie, I’m sorry. I told Mom where you were going.”
Saea set the phone down. Her hands trembled. No—not trembled. They went cold. As if someone had plunged them into ice water. And that coldness was spreading slowly through her arms, shoulders, chest. The hospital lobby was dark with early morning, yet it blazed under fluorescent lights. Everything illuminated equally. People, chairs, Saea’s face. No one could cast a shadow here. No one could hide.
“I told Mom.”
Dohyun’s final words kept repeating. Circling in her ears. He’d expressed his guilt with those words. But Saea was the one who should feel guilty. Because Saea had used him. Because Saea hadn’t taken responsibility for her own choices. And that responsibility had eventually fallen on Mom’s body.
Saea stood slowly. From the first-floor lobby of the hospital. Beyond the window, dawn Seoul was visible. Signs flickering out. Taxis departing with their last passengers. And above it all, gray dawn light falling like ash. Saea picked up her phone again. She wanted to call Dohyun. But her fingers wouldn’t move. What could she say? “I’m sorry” had already been said too many times. “It’s okay” would be a lie. So what then?
She set the phone down instead. She took out a cigarette. Smoking wasn’t allowed in the hospital. But Saea no longer cared about rules. She lit it. The lighter’s flame rose. A small spark. Warmth. That was all she could do. Burn herself. Slowly, steadily, without hurting anyone else. But even that was impossible. Burning herself meant hurting someone.
The cigarette smoke rose. Saea watched it. The fluorescent lights rendered it translucent and hazy. As if revealing the boundary between existence and nonexistence. As if proving she was here and simultaneously not here.
“You burned away like you were no one.”
Mom’s words echoed again. But now their source became clear. Those weren’t Mom’s words. They were something Saea had always known. Words she’d wanted to say to herself. The way she defined herself. Like she was no one. Like she existed for no one. Like she existed for nothing.
Her phone rang. The screen showed a name: Haneul. Haneul. Saea’s only friend. Or more accurately, her only witness. Someone who knew everything—what Saea was doing, where she was going, who she was meeting. Saea didn’t answer. The screen went dark, then rang again. A second call. Still, she didn’t answer. On the third call, she meant to turn it off. But her finger pressed the accept button instead.
“Saea.”
Haneul’s voice came through. It wasn’t a question. It was a confirmation. Checking whether Saea was still alive, still in this world.
“Yeah.”
“Where are you? Did you leave the hospital?”
Haneul asked. And Saea could tell. Haneul already knew. She must have heard from Dohyun. That Mom was hospitalized. That Saea had disappeared.
“Yeah.”
“Where are you going?”
Haneul asked. And that was the most dangerous question. Because Saea didn’t know where she was going. Didn’t know what she was trying to do. Didn’t know who she was trying to meet. All she knew was that she couldn’t be here. Couldn’t be in this hospital, this lobby, under these fluorescent lights.
“To meet Kangli.”
Saea said it. And in that moment, she realized she’d spoken. As if the words had come from someone else’s mouth.
The line filled with silence for a few seconds. Saea could tell Haneul was preparing to scold her. Preparing to save her. But Saea knew she didn’t want to be saved. She’d rather keep burning than be rescued. Because burning was her choice. Being saved was someone else’s.
“Saea. Please.”
Haneul said it. And everything was in that word. Anger, despair, love. And that was exactly what Saea couldn’t bear. Someone’s love. Someone’s concern. Someone’s sincerity.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. Just come here. Where are you?”
Haneul demanded.
“The hospital.”
“Which hospital?”
Haneul pressed. And Saea understood. Haneul was trying to find her. But Saea didn’t want to be found. She wanted to disappear. Completely. Like smoke. Like a spark. Like she was no one.
“I’ll call you back.”
Saea said. Then she hung up.
After turning off her phone, Saea left the hospital. 6:11 AM. Seoul’s dawn was already brightening. The city lights were turning off one by one. As if someone were erasing Seoul’s false brightness. As if Saea was being erased with it.
She got in a taxi. The driver asked for a destination. Saea gave an address. Kangli’s gosiwon. That narrow alley in Hapjeong. That place wasn’t her home anymore. Wasn’t Dohyun’s home. Wasn’t Mom’s home. It was just a place left behind. A passage people crossed. Nowhere anyone stopped.
In the car, Saea watched through the window. Dawn Seoul flowing past. Convenience stores lighting up. First delivery workers appearing. Night-shift workers heading home for the last time. None of this concerned her. All of it continued without her. As if she already didn’t exist. As if her absence was already confirmed.
When the taxi arrived at Hapjeong Station, Saea handed over money. More than necessary. The driver tried to give change. Saea waved him off. She needed nothing. Not money, not change, not anyone’s kindness.
The gosiwon was still dark. It was early morning. The hallway lights were off. As if this building were dying too. As if it no longer had the strength to protect anyone.
At Kangli’s door, Saea didn’t knock. She entered the passcode. The number Kangli had given her before. 1004. Thousand and four. Numbers with no meaning. Just a tool to open something.
The door opened. A dark room appeared. Saea went inside. The door closed behind her. Silently. As if it closed automatically. As if something had pushed her through, not her own choice.
“Saea?”
Kangli’s voice came from the darkness. From the bed. As if he’d known she was coming. As if he’d been waiting all along.
“Yeah.”
She answered.
“Why did you come?”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she walked into the darkness. Toward the bed. As if her body were following a predetermined path. As if her choice was already made.
When she sat on the bed, she saw Kangli’s hand. It was trembling. Slightly. But distinctly. A movement he couldn’t control. As if his hand too was betraying him.
“My mom was hospitalized.”
Saea said.
Kangli didn’t move.
“Because of me.”
She continued.
“Yeah.”
He answered. Not a denial. A confirmation. As if he’d already known. As if it had been part of his plan all along.
Saea took his hand. That trembling hand. That cold hand. That hand trembling just like her own. And in that moment, she understood. Kangli was like her. He was burning just like she was. He was disappearing like she was, becoming no one.
“What are we doing?”
She asked.
“I don’t know.”
He answered. And that was the only truth. They both didn’t know. They were both burning together. And in the process, someone kept getting hurt.
The distance from the hospital. The map showed approximately 2.3 kilometers from the gosiwon to the hospital. But the emotional distance was infinite. While Saea held Kangli’s hand in this darkness, Mom lay in a hospital bed with an intermittent positive airway pressure mask. Dohyun was sleeping beside Mom’s bed. Haneul was searching for Saea. And Saea was here. In darkness. Holding the hand of someone like herself.
“Is this the end?”
Saea asked.
Kangli’s hand trembled more severely. As if that were his only answer. As if his body were speaking for his voice.
The dawn continued to brighten beyond the window. Soon morning would come. Then everything would be revealed. Doctors would check Mom’s condition. Police might come looking for Kangli. Haneul might knock on the gosiwon door. But this moment was still in darkness. Still in silence. Still in a time when no one had come.
And Saea understood. This was her choice. This was what she wanted. To burn like she was no one. To burn together. To lose everything in the process.
Kangli’s hand continued to tremble. And Saea didn’t let go.
# In Darkness, a Choice
Saea didn’t answer.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Opened it again, closed it. Like a fish. Like she was suffocating. But there was air. The problem wasn’t air. The problem was words. The problem was the fear that her voice would shatter this moment.
Kangli was still there. Sitting on the edge of the bed, opening and closing his hand. As if it weren’t his. As if it belonged to someone else. Saea watched that movement and thought: His hand is afraid like mine. His hand wants something like mine.
“I… I don’t know what to say.”
Saea finally spoke. Her voice didn’t sound like hers. It sounded like someone else had borrowed her body to speak. That voice trembled. Like walking on thin ice.
Kangli turned his head. In the darkness, his eyes appeared as black pupils only. Saea could feel her reflection in those black pupils. A version of herself she didn’t know. A version of herself she feared.
“My mom… my mom was hospitalized.”
She said it. As if speaking to someone else. As if she had to convince someone other than herself. The air grew heavy. The air around the bed crystallized like glacier ice.
Kangli didn’t move.
A clock’s ticking could be heard. A cheap wall clock’s second hand. Tick. Tick. Tick. Saea felt her heartbeat synchronizing with it. Her pulse being controlled by that clock’s rhythm.
“Because of me.”
She continued. It was a confession. Simultaneously a revelation. Simultaneously a curse.
Kangli’s face shifted slightly. His jaw tightened. His mouth turned down. But he still didn’t speak.
“I… I must have done something wrong…”
Saea’s voice grew quieter. Like sinking into water. Like she didn’t want to hear herself speak.
“Yeah.”
Kangli finally spoke.
That single word seemed to pull all the air from the room. Saea couldn’t breathe. As if that word compressed her lungs. As if that word crushed her chest.
“What… what do you mean…”
“It was something I had to do.”
Kangli finished. “Not because of you… it was my choice. From the beginning.”
When she heard that, Saea felt a deeper shock. That Kangli wasn’t blaming her. That Kangli wasn’t admitting her fault. She realized that was more terrifying. Because it meant Kangli had already accepted everything. It meant he’d already decided. It meant she couldn’t save him.
Saea collapsed onto the bed. As if someone had kicked her legs out. As if her body could no longer support her.
Then she saw Kangli’s hand.
It was trembling. Faintly. But clearly. A movement he couldn’t control. As if his hand too was betraying him. Saea watched that hand and thought: His hand is afraid like mine. His hand wants something like mine.
The dawn air seeped through the gosiwon window. Cold, damp, suffocating air. Saea breathed it and felt her lungs slowly freezing. Her body slowly growing cold.
“My mom was hospitalized.”
She said again. As if Kangli hadn’t heard. As if she were speaking to herself.
“Yeah.”
Kangli answered. Not a denial. A confirmation. As if he’d already known. As if it had been part of his plan. Saea heard many things in that syllable. Despair. Resignation. And strangely, a kind of relief.
“When… when did you know?”
“From the beginning.”
Kangli’s voice was hollow. Like a recording playing. Like imitating someone else’s voice.
Saea took his hand.
That trembling hand. That cold hand. That hand trembling just like hers. She interlaced their fingers. Like praying. Like begging someone for forgiveness. Like trying to prove they were still connected.
The hand was warm. No, hot. No, cold. Saea didn’t know what she should feel. She felt the pulse on the hand. A heart beating fast. Like a panicked animal. Like a bird that couldn’t find the exit.
And in that moment, Saea understood.
Kangli was like her. He was burning like she was. He was disappearing like she was, becoming no one. They weren’t two people. They were one flame burning in two directions.
“What are we doing?”
Saea asked, pushing her hand deeper into his.
Kangli didn’t answer. Instead, his hand’s trembling grew more severe. As if that were his only answer. As if his body were speaking for his voice.
“I don’t know.”
Saea answered her own question.
“Yeah. I don’t know either.”
Kangli echoed her words.
And that was the only truth. They both didn’t know. They were both burning together. And in the process, someone kept getting hurt. Saea knew she had to engrave that truth into her bones. Until the day she died.
The distance from the hospital.
The map showed approximately 2.3 kilometers from the gosiwon to the hospital. Saea knew that distance exactly. She’d looked it up on Google Maps. Fourteen minutes by taxi. Twenty-eight minutes by bus. Thirty-two minutes on foot. But the emotional distance was infinite.
While Saea held Kangli’s hand in this moment, Mom lay in bed. Wearing the mask of an intermittent positive airway pressure machine. That machine sound was what Saea had heard hours ago. Shhhh… out. Shhhh… out. As if Mom were crying. As if Mom were calling for help. But Mom was unconscious. Mom couldn’t find Saea.
Dohyun was probably sleeping beside Mom’s bed. Hours after Saea had left. Holding Mom’s hand. Was he still there? Or had he woken up? Or had he already called the police?
Haneul was searching for Saea. With her phone. On social media. Asking friends. “Where is Unnie?” That voice wouldn’t leave Saea’s ears.
And Saea was here.
In darkness. Holding the hand of someone like herself. Burning together with her.
“Is this the end?”
Saea asked. Not looking at Kangli’s face. Looking at Kangli’s hand on top of hers.
Kangli didn’t answer.
Instead, his hand began trembling more severely. As if that were his only answer. As if his body were speaking for his voice. Saea tried to read the rhythm of that trembling. Like Morse code. Like a cipher. But it was indecipherable. It was pure vibration of fear.
“Will you tell me?”
Saea asked again. This time looking at Kangli’s face. “What… what are we trying to do?”
Kangli’s eyes moved. Left to right. Right to left. As if searching for an exit in the darkness. As if asking someone for help. But his mouth didn’t move.
“Kangli.”
Saea called his name. For the first time. She hadn’t called him that until now. It had felt like saying his name would make everything real. But this was different. Now calling his name felt like the only way to keep her hand from falling.
“Yeah?”
Kangli answered in a weak voice.
“We… what are we doing? Really. What are we doing?”
Saea’s voice trembled. Like a child’s voice. Like she was searching for her mother.
“I don’t know.”
Kangli answered. “I… I don’t know what I should do.”
“Then… then what about Mom? What about Mom? What happens to her?”
Saea asked. That question was also directed at herself.
“I don’t know.”
Kangli repeated. As if that were his only word. As if he only knew that word.
Silence filled the room.
Beyond the window, dawn continued to brighten. Morning would come soon. Then everything would be revealed. Hospital doctors would check Mom’s condition again. Nurses would monitor her vital signs. Police might come looking for Kangli. School would notice Saea’s absence. Haneul would knock on the gosiwon door. Dohyun would cry again.
But this moment was still in darkness.
Still in silence.
Still in a time when no one had come.
How much time was left? Five minutes? Ten? Thirty? It didn’t matter. That time would end, everything would be revealed, and after that, no time would mean anything.
Saea confirmed once more that Kangli’s hand was on top of hers.
It was still trembling.
It was still warm.
It was still alive.
“I wish… I wish I could do something.”
Saea murmured. “If I could just… undo something…”
“You can’t.”
Kangli said. For the first time, with a firm voice. “It’s… it’s already too late.”
When she heard that, Saea couldn’t hold on anymore. Her shoulders shook. As if someone were shaking her. As if she were shaking herself. Tears came. But there was no sound. As if her throat were blocked. As if she had no right to cry.
Kangli gripped her hand tighter.
That was the only connection Saea could feel. That was the only proof they were still in the same world. That was the only signal they were still alive.
“What should I do?”
Saea asked. Almost inaudibly.
“Just… stay here.”
Kangli answered. “Just don’t let go of my hand. Please.”
Everything was in those words.
Fear. Loneliness. Despair. And a kind of sorrowful love.
Saea gripped his hand tighter.
As if it were the only thing she could do. As if it were the only thing she could give him.
And Saea understood.
This was her choice.
This was what she wanted.
To burn like she was no one.
To burn together.
To lose everything in the process.
To lose Mom.
To lose Dohyun.
To lose Haneul.
To lose herself.
But in this moment. In this darkness. In this moment of admitting she wasn’t whole…
She wasn’t alone.
Kangli’s hand was on hers.
That was everything Saea could feel.
That was everything Saea could know.
That was everything Saea could have.
Kangli’s hand continued to tremble.
Saea didn’t let go.
Until morning came.
Until the police arrived.
Until everything ended.
Saea held that hand.