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# Chapter 187: The Phone Keeps Ringing
Seah got out of the car. Before Haneuli could finish speaking, before she could convince her, before she could say anything more about Dohyun. Opening the door and stepping out—that was all that mattered. The night street at the entrance to Gangnam Station still burned hot. The smell of alcohol, cigarette smoke, someone’s voice, a taxi horn. All the sounds reached Seah’s ears at once, but none of them were clear. It was as if the world was playing multiple radio channels simultaneously.
The car door closed. Haneuli didn’t follow. Seah walked. Anywhere. Direction didn’t matter. She passed the entrance to Gangnam Station and turned into an alley. The lights in the alley were a yellower hue. More aged. As if this place had lost time.
Her phone screen lit up. Dohyun’s name. It rang again. The eleventh time. Seah didn’t answer. Instead, she lowered the screen. Battery at 10%. It would die soon.
“Why aren’t you answering?”
Haneuli’s voice came from behind. Seah didn’t stop walking.
“Seah. Please stop. You can’t let Dohyun see you like this. Did you see your hands? Your face? You’re breaking apart right now. And you’re going to give that to that child.”
Haneuli grabbed Seah’s arm. Her fingers gripped the sleeve firmly. As if she was afraid Seah would slip away. As if she knew Seah could vanish in this moment.
Seah turned slowly. She looked at Haneuli’s face. Haneuli was crying. Or rather, appeared to be crying. Her eyes glistened, but tears didn’t fall. As if she too was resisting her own emotions.
“What are you doing?”
Haneuli asked.
“I don’t know.”
Seah answered. It was the truth. She didn’t know what she was trying to do, why she was walking this path, what she should say to Dohyun. She knew nothing. She could only feel her body moving. As if someone else was controlling it.
“Kang Riou?”
Haneuli asked.
Seah didn’t answer. But silence was an answer.
“Seah, that man is… he’s your brother. Your half-brother. Your father and another woman…”
Haneuli said. And stopped. As if completing it would make it real.
“I know.”
Seah said. And pulled her arm free. Gently. Without resisting strongly. As if she didn’t want to hurt Haneuli’s hand.
“But what?”
Haneuli asked.
“But I don’t know what that means. My father isn’t my father anyway. And Kang Riou is… Kang Riou is…”
Seah stopped. She counted her fingers again. Still five. Still trembling.
“What is Kang Riou?”
Haneuli asked.
“He’s the person I’ve been looking for. From the beginning. Before I even knew it. As if someone already planted that answer in my body.”
Seah said.
The moment these words came out, Seah understood their meaning. And she knew it was true. Kang Riou had been in her life from the start. In hospital corridors, by the Han River, inside cars. He was always there. Like her shadow. Like the missing half of herself.
Her phone rang. Dohyun. The twelfth time. Both Haneuli and Seah heard it. The ringing echoed through the alley and seemed to shake the surrounding lights. Or so it appeared.
This time, Seah answered.
“Dohyun?”
Her voice sounded unfamiliar. It didn’t sound like her own voice. As if someone else was borrowing her body to speak.
From the other end of the line, only Dohyun’s breathing came through. As if the child also needed time to recognize Seah.
“Noona…”
Dohyun’s voice came. Different from the voice in the voicemail. Smaller. More broken.
“Yeah. It’s me. Dohyun.”
Seah said.
“Mom keeps saying something. She wants me to tell you something. But it doesn’t make sense. You keep saying father, father… and…”
Dohyun spoke, then stopped. In the background, hospital sounds echoed. The beeping of monitors, someone’s groan, a nurse’s footsteps.
“And what?”
Seah asked.
“And your voice. She keeps talking about your voice. She wants me to tell you something, but… Noona, what is your voice? Mom keeps saying you’re dangerous. That your voice is dangerous. So Dad took something from you. Your father took something from you. What does that mean?”
Dohyun’s voice grew quieter. As if this was an important question, but also the hardest thing to ask.
Seah’s hand froze. Suspended in the air. As if someone was holding it in place.
“Dohyun. Are you next to Mom?”
Seah asked.
“Yeah. In the hospital room.”
Dohyun answered.
“Can you give her the phone?”
Seah said.
Silence. A silence that felt like centuries, not seconds. The background sound changed. Someone picked up the phone. And the breathing shifted. Shallower. More irregular.
“Seah…”
It was her mother’s voice. But it too sounded unfamiliar. As if it had passed through layers of screens. As if it had crossed some distance beyond time.
“Mom. I…”
Seah started, but her mother spoke first.
“Do you know what was taken from you?”
Her mother asked.
“What?”
Seah asked. But she already knew. Or rather, she felt it. Somewhere in her body, deep in her chest, in her throat.
“Your voice. Your real voice. That’s what your father took from you.”
Her mother said.
“What did my voice do? What did I do?”
Seah asked. And she knew this was the most important question. The one she should have asked her entire life. But couldn’t.
“You… when you were little…”
Her mother said. And fell silent. As if speaking would destroy her.
“When I was little, what?”
Seah asked again.
“You sang. All the time. Day and night. Without stopping. And…”
Her mother’s voice was breaking.
Haneuli grabbed Seah’s hand again. This time, more firmly. As if knowing Seah could disappear in this moment.
“And what?”
Seah asked.
“And your father was afraid. Of your voice. It seemed like that voice was breaking something. So…”
Her mother said.
“So what?”
“So we decided to take that voice away. From you. So no one could hear it. So you couldn’t even hear it yourself.”
Her mother said.
The lights in the alley trembled again. Or Seah’s eyes trembled. Or the world trembled. It couldn’t be distinguished.
“What did I… what did I do?”
Seah asked again. As if this were the final question.
“You didn’t do anything. You just sang. And that voice… it was so loud. So clear. So…”
Her mother’s words cut off. In the background, someone’s crying could be heard. Dohyun. Or her mother. Or both.
Seah lowered the phone. The call was still active, but she didn’t want to hear those voices. Instead, she looked at the night of the alley. The lights. The people. All living their lives. No one saw Seah. No one heard Seah.
“Seah?”
Haneuli called out.
Seah didn’t answer. She raised her hand. Still trembling. But now she understood what the trembling was. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t anger. It was…
Fire. A flame burning inside her, something someone had tried to take, but was still there.
“I… I need to meet Kang Riou.”
Seah said.
“Now?”
Haneuli asked.
“Now.”
Seah answered.
“Seah, you’re right now…”
Haneuli started. But stopped. As if she knew she couldn’t stop Seah anymore.
Seah picked up the phone again. Dohyun was still crying.
“Dohyun. Will you stay next to Mom?”
Seah said.
“Yeah. Yeah.”
Dohyun answered.
“And don’t call. Until I do. Promise.”
Seah said.
“Noona… where are you going?”
Dohyun asked.
“To find my voice.”
Seah said. And she hung up.
The battery was at 8%. The screen went black. Only the alley lights remained. And Haneuli’s face. Something was written there. Fear. And acceptance.
“Do you know where Kang Riou is?”
Seah asked.
“Yeah. I do.”
Haneuli answered.
“Where?”
“By the Han River. Near Hapjeong Station. In some hotel lobby.”
Haneuli said.
Seah walked. Again. This time toward the end of the alley. The car would be there. And it would head toward the Han River. The nighttime Han River. Where the fire was.
“Seah!”
Haneuli called from behind. But Seah didn’t turn around. Because she knew that if she turned, if she stopped, something would break permanently.
The car pulled forward. Haneuli sat in the driver’s seat. Seah sat beside her. The engine roared. And the car moved toward the Han River.
The night of Gangnam flowed past the window. Lights, people, lives. All continuing. Seah’s life was continuing too. But now at a different speed. A different direction.
“What will you do when you meet him?”
Haneuli asked.
Seah didn’t answer. Because she didn’t know. She only knew one thing: her voice was somewhere. And she had to find it. From someone. From something. Or from herself.
The car continued to drive. Toward the Han River. Through the night. With two hands, two hearts, one purpose.
Kang Riou. Where would that man be. And would his hands still be trembling. Or would they be still now.
Seah’s hand trembled again. But this time, it trembled differently. As if it were a trembling to meet someone. As if it were a trembling to reclaim something.
The night continued. And the fire still burned.
# In Search of a Voice
Part One: The Moment of Decision
“Yeah. Yeah.”
Dohyun’s voice trembled through the phone. For a nine-year-old child, it carried too many things. Fear, confusion, and a desperate need to believe in his mother. Seah pressed the phone closer to her ear. As if doing so would let her catch the boy’s crying more accurately.
“Dohyun. Can you stay next to Mom? Or next to Grandma. Just… anywhere but alone.”
Seah said. Her voice was composed, but it was composure practiced over years. Inside, her chest was sinking. Only two hours since the notification that her husband had taken the child. And he had even threatened suicide. Kang Riou. Just his name made her skin crawl.
“Yeah. Yeah.”
Dohyun’s voice grew smaller. From the background sounds, it seemed the boy was sitting on the couch in the living room. She could hear the television. Her mother-in-law was probably trying to calm the child.
“And don’t call. Until I do. Promise.”
Seah said. Saying these words was agony. It felt like she was severing the cord between herself and her child with her own hands. But she had to. If Dohyun kept calling, it would only upset Kang Riou more.
“Noona… where are you going?”
Dohyun asked. The question from that small voice was like a deep well. For a moment, Seah wanted to stop everything. To appear before the child and hold him. But she couldn’t.
“To find my voice.”
Seah answered. In that moment, she herself didn’t fully understand what those words meant. But she knew instinctively. For the past ten years, she had lived only as someone’s wife, someone’s daughter-in-law, someone’s mother. And in that process, she had lost her voice, her desires, her sense of self somewhere.
“Promise. Don’t let go of Mom’s hand until I call again.”
Seah said again.
“I promise.”
Dohyun answered. And Seah ended the call.
The screen went black. Battery at 8%. Just hours ago, this phone was her only connection to the world. Now it felt like a heavy stone.
Seah slowly raised her head. Haneuli stood before her.
Part Two: A Friend’s Face
Haneuli’s face was pale. Under the streetlight of the alley, she looked like a ghost. Her eyes were swollen and her lips were taut. Seah and Haneuli had known each other for six months. Two women who met at a gym. At first, they were strangers. There was as much distance between them as the difference in the temperature of the water they drank. But over the past few months, they had grown close listening to each other’s pain. Haneuli was also a woman who wanted to escape her husband’s violence. Though she hadn’t yet.
“Seah, you’re right now…”
Haneuli started. But couldn’t continue. As if she already knew she couldn’t stop Seah anymore, her mouth closed again.
Seah’s eyes met Haneuli’s. There were things to read in her friend’s face. Fear. And understanding. And at the same time, a helplessness that couldn’t deny the validity of Seah’s decision.
Seah picked up the phone again. Dohyun’s crying still lingered in her ears. She took a deep breath. The air was cold and bleak. Late October night. An alley near Gangnam Station. This alley must harbor many people’s secrets. But right now, Seah’s world was very small. Her son, and the man who had taken him. That was all.
“Do you know where Kang Riou is?”
Seah asked. It was strange how calm her voice could be. As if someone else was speaking.
“Yeah. I do.”
Haneuli answered. She had obtained the information yesterday through a friend of Kang Riou’s. For Seah’s sake.
“Where?”
Seah asked again.
Haneuli sighed. It was a deep, long sigh. As if she knew that what she was about to say would start something irreversible.
“By the Han River. Near Hapjeong Station. In some hotel lobby. He’s been there all night, mostly in the hotel bar.”
Haneuli said.
Seah’s mind became clear. As if murky water suddenly turned transparent. The Han River. Near Hapjeong Station. That was one of Seoul’s most beautiful places. During the day, there were riverside walking paths. At night, lights sparkled. But Kang Riou was there. It felt as if the world’s beauty and ugliness coexisted in the same place.
Seah walked. Toward the end of the alley. Haneuli’s car would be there. A gray Hyundai Sonata. For the past two weeks, that car had been Seah’s refuge. Inside it, she had thought about when to leave, how to live. Inside it, she had cried.
“Seah!”
Haneuli called from behind. There was a plaintiveness in her voice.
But Seah didn’t turn around. Because she knew that if she did, if she stopped, something would break permanently. There was a line you couldn’t cross. And Seah was standing on that line now.
Part Three: The City at Night
The car’s engine rumbled. Haneuli sat in the driver’s seat, and Seah sat beside her. The engine sound was deep and low. Like an animal’s cry.
“What will you do when you meet him?”
Haneuli asked as the car exited the alley.
Seah didn’t answer. Because she didn’t know. She only knew she had to go, had to meet him. Everything after that was unknown territory.
The night of Gangnam flowed past the window. Lights, people, lives. All continuing. In that café, someone was probably confessing their love. In that restaurant, someone was mourning business failure. In a room in that apartment, someone was reflecting on their life.
Seah’s life was continuing too. But now at a different speed. A different direction. The speed before had been set by others. Her husband’s mockery, her mother-in-law’s criticism, society’s expectations. She had run at the speed those things created. But now, in this car, Seah was feeling her own speed for the first time.
They passed Gangnam Station, then Sinnonhyeon Station, then Apgujeong Station, heading toward the Hannam Bridge. The Han River appeared through the car window. At night, the Han River was black. Lights sparkled on its surface. The bridge lights, the park lights, and the building lights on both banks. They fell like shadows on the black water.
“Seah.”
Haneuli said.
“Yeah?”
“What if Kang Riou commits suicide?”
It was the most frightening question. Seah’s hands trembled. Her fingers tapped against the car door.
“Then… what happens to Dohyun?”
Seah murmured. Her voice was very small.
“Dohyun has Grandma. Your mother-in-law loves the child. And you’re there. You’re the mother.”
Haneuli said.
Seah looked out the window. The Han River was getting closer. The car was heading toward Hapjeong Station.
“I know. I know that. But…”
Seah said.
“But?”
“But if Kang Riou commits suicide, Dohyun will remember it. Forever. He’ll think his father died because of me.”
Seah’s voice trembled.
“That’s not the truth. That’s what Kang Riou chose. That’s his responsibility.”
Haneuli said.
“I know. My head knows. But my heart…”
Seah’s words trailed off.
The car stopped in front of a hotel near Hapjeong Station. It was a luxury hotel by the river. Brilliant lighting, elegant exterior. And inside, Kang Riou was waiting.
Part Four: The Hotel Lobby
Seah stepped out of the car. The cold night air brushed against her face. Being near the river, the air was humid. And there was an unfamiliar smell. Concrete, rusted metal, and something burnt.
The hotel lobby doors opened automatically. Warm air flowed out. The lobby was very clean. Marble floors, glittering chandeliers, and several guests sitting on sofas.
Seah walked slowly. Her footsteps were very quiet. Like a ghost. In that process, she could hear her own heartbeat. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Like a drum.
The hotel bar was next to the lobby. Inside, the lights were dimmed. A few people were drinking. And one of them was Kang Riou.
Kang Riou was sitting alone. Holding a glass of whiskey. His face was haggard. He hadn’t slept properly in days. His eyes were dark, his beard grown long. And his hands were still trembling.
Seah’s footsteps stopped. Kang Riou felt it. His eyes looked up. And he saw Seah.
“Seah?”
Kang Riou muttered. As if seeing a hallucination.
Seah sat down across from him. Without a word. Just looking at him.
“Where’s Dohyun?”
Kang Riou asked.
“At Grandma’s. Safe.”
Seah said. Her voice was composed. But underneath lay anger, fear, and determination.
Kang Riou picked up his whiskey glass. And drank. His throat moved.
“I’m going to commit suicide. You can’t stop me. No one can.”
Kang Riou said.
“You will. But I won’t stop you. You have to choose your own life. That’s the only responsibility you can have. Because you’ve wounded Dohyun. So now you have to live. And in that life, every moment, you have to think of Dohyun. That’s the only atonement you can make.”
Seah said.
Kang Riou’s hands trembled more violently.
“You want me dead? You must want me dead, right?”
Kang Riou asked.
“No. I don’t want you dead. I thought I was dead. That’s why I gave you Dohyun. But now I’m awake. I’m alive. And I’m going to live. Regardless of you. Regardless of your death or your life.”
Seah said.
In that moment, something broke. Something in Kang Riou’s face. Tears streamed from his eyes. And he cried. An adult man, in a hotel bar, in front of strangers.
Seah watched him. And she felt it. That he would stop now. That his hands would release. That his voice would cease.
“Will you return Dohyun to Grandma?”
Seah asked.
Kang Riou nodded.
Part Five: The Way Back
Seah returned to the car. Haneuli was waiting in the driver’s seat.
“Is it over?”
Haneuli asked.
“Yeah. It’s over.”
Seah answered.
The car moved again. Crossing the Han River, heading back to Gangnam. And to her mother-in-law’s house.
That night, Seah held Dohyun. The child was still crying. But it was a different kind of crying now. A cry of relief. And perhaps, of understanding.
And Seah found her voice. It wasn’t Kang Riou’s, wasn’t her mother-in-law’s, wasn’t society’s. It was her own voice alone.
The night continued. And the fire still burned.
But now, that fire belonged to Seah.
End