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# Chapter 193: What His Fingers Were Saying
The moment Seo-ah answered the phone, she heard Kang Ri-woo’s breathing. That was the first thing. Not his voice—his breathing. Irregular. Quickened. The breath of someone who’d been running.
“Seo-ah. Your mom’s at the hospital?”
Kang Ri-woo’s voice lacked its usual composure. Instead, there was something more dangerous—an emotion spiraling out of control. Seo-ah felt her body stiffen as she heard it.
“Yeah.”
The shortest answer. The safest answer.
“Where? Which hospital?”
“Why?”
Silence flooded the line. A few seconds. Seo-ah counted them. One. Two. Three. Kang Ri-woo was still breathing, but quieter now. More controlled. As if he were gathering himself back together.
“I need to come.”
“What?”
“I need to see your mom. In person.”
“Why?”
Seo-ah’s voice rose. Beneath the fluorescent lights of the corridor, in the hospital’s midnight silence, she realized how far her voice could reach. How it could wake something. Someone.
“Give me the hospital address.”
“No.”
“Seo-ah.”
His voice changed. Lower. More dangerous. Like a warning.
“I said no.”
Seo-ah repeated it.
In the corridor, Hae-neul watched her. From a distance. Arms crossed. That gaze was sharp. She already knew. What Seo-ah was trying to do. Who she was talking to. And how dangerous it was.
“Kang Ri-woo. I can’t explain everything right now. Mom’s sick, and Do-hyun is here, and—”
Seo-ah said. It was true. But it wasn’t the whole truth. The real reason lay elsewhere. Hadn’t her mother called out his name? That sentence was still lodged in Seo-ah’s mind. Low. Trembling. Filled with some emotion. Kang Min-jun heard it. Kang Min-jun. Ri-woo’s father. And her father.
“Where are you?”
“Hospital corridor.”
Why hadn’t she lied? She didn’t know. But lying to Kang Ri-woo felt like writing on water. Nothing remains. Everything flows away.
“I took a taxi. I’m coming to you.”
“Don’t. Please.”
“Why?”
There was genuine curiosity in his voice now. Something deeper than that. Hurt. Or fear.
“Because.”
Seo-ah said. And in that moment, she realized there was something she needed to tell him. What her mother had said. Her voice was burning. Kang Min-jun heard it. Those words were inside her. And they had to be passed on to him. Because he could be anything. Because he was his father’s son. Or for some other reason.
“I need to tell you something.”
Kang Ri-woo didn’t answer. But Seo-ah could tell he was listening. Through the phone line came the noise of the taxi. Seoul in the dead of night. Traffic lights. Other cars. And Kang Ri-woo’s breathing.
“Mom just said something. About my voice.”
Seo-ah started.
“What did she say?”
His voice was quieter now. More focused. As if he were turning all his attention toward her.
“She said my voice was burning. Past tense.”
Longer silence this time. Seo-ah tried to imagine what he was thinking. She couldn’t. Kang Ri-woo was always like that—too skilled at hiding his thoughts.
“What else?”
“What else? That’s it. And—”
Seo-ah said. But she stopped. There was more. The part Do-hyun had told her. Father. Kang Min-jun. The weight of that name when it left her mother’s lips.
“And?”
“She said your father heard it.”
“My father?”
“Yeah. She said Kang Min-jun heard your voice.”
Seo-ah said. And as she said it, something dawned on her. What exactly had her mother said? Think again. Kang Min-jun heard it. Heard it. That was past tense. When did Kang Min-jun hear her voice? When? Seo-ah tried to pinpoint when that could have happened. A club? A recording studio? Somewhere else?
“It was years ago.”
Kang Ri-woo said. Suddenly.
“What?”
“When I was eighteen. Father took me somewhere. Maybe a club… maybe a studio… I can’t remember. And someone was singing there. That voice—”
Kang Ri-woo said. And stopped.
“That voice?”
“My father was terrified.”
Seo-ah’s hands began to tremble. Not from cold. The hospital corridor was warm. This was a tremor from deep within. From nerves. From bone. Or deeper still. From the soul. If there was such a thing.
“Terrified?”
“Yeah. He was holding my hand. Very tightly. Like he was afraid of losing me. While listening to that voice. And the next day, he told me something. That I had to forget that voice. That it was dangerous. That it could destroy me.”
Kang Ri-woo said.
Seo-ah tried to check if she was breathing. She couldn’t. Her body had frozen solid. As if it had turned to stone.
“Whose voice was it?”
Seo-ah asked. But she already knew the answer. As if it had been written all along.
“I didn’t know then.”
“Now?”
“Now I know it was yours.”
The fluorescent lights in the corridor seemed to grow brighter for a moment. Seo-ah tried to close her eyes, but it didn’t help. The light got in anyway. Everywhere.
“So?”
“So what?”
Kang Ri-woo asked. As if she was supposed to explain it.
“Why was your father afraid of my voice?”
Kang Ri-woo didn’t answer. Instead, Seo-ah heard his breathing. Faster. Deeper. As if he were carrying something heavy.
“Seo-ah. Go home.”
“What?”
“Leave the hospital. Right now. Take a cab home. Tell Do-hyun your mom’s okay. And—”
“And?”
“Don’t call me. For a week. Don’t tell anyone what I’m doing. Where I am. Just… disappear. You, Do-hyun, and your mom. Go anywhere. Just go.”
“Kang Ri-woo. What are you doing?”
“Something I shouldn’t.”
He hung up.
Seo-ah lowered the phone from her ear. The screen went black. Kang Ri-woo was gone. Again. He always appeared and disappeared like this. Like a ghost. Or like a flame—burning bright, then suddenly snuffed out.
Hae-neul approached her.
“What did he say?”
“I don’t know.”
Seo-ah said. And it was true. She didn’t know what Kang Ri-woo was going to do. But she didn’t want to know either. Or something deeper than that. A feeling that she shouldn’t know. Like understanding she’d crossed a line she couldn’t return from.
“Seo-ah. What now?”
Seo-ah looked at the hospital room. Her mother was still sleeping. Do-hyun sat beside her. The child was watching Seo-ah. For a long time. As if trying to remember her. Or preparing for goodbye.
“I need to go back to the room.”
“Now?”
“Yeah. Do-hyun’s waiting for me.”
Seo-ah returned to the hospital room. Do-hyun saw her. The child’s eyes were red and swollen. He’d been crying again.
“Kang Ri-woo?”
“It’s… fine. Nothing.”
Seo-ah said. Another lie. She realized she’d been lying a lot. To her mother. To Kang Ri-woo. To Do-hyun. And the biggest lie was within herself. The lie that she could control everything. The lie that she could do something.
Seo-ah sat beside her mother. She took her hand again. It was warm. Still. But Seo-ah knew this warmth wouldn’t last. All heat cools. All fire goes out. All voices become silence.
But then, her mother’s eyes opened.
Very slowly. As if lifting something very heavy. And her mother looked at Seo-ah. Really looked at her. As if seeing her for the first time. Or the last time.
“Seo-ah…”
Her mother whispered.
“Mom. I’m here.”
“Don’t… listen to my voice…”
“What?”
“Don’t… listen to my voice…”
Her mother repeated. So slowly. As if each word was draining her life away.
“Mom. It’s okay. Rest.”
“Your… voice… is fire…”
Her mother said.
“I know. Now rest.”
“You were… like fire… when you were small…”
Her mother continued.
Seo-ah stopped speaking. She just listened. To her mother’s voice growing quieter. Growing softer. Growing more distant.
“And I… tried to… put it out…”
Her mother said. Her last words.
Then her mother’s eyes closed again. But this time, there was something different. As if she’d let something go. As if she’d passed something on.
Seo-ah held her mother’s hand tighter. But her mother didn’t respond anymore.
Do-hyun placed his hand on Seo-ah’s shoulder. The child said nothing. But that touch said everything. All the sorrow. All the endings.
The fluorescent lights continued to shine brightly. Ruthlessly illuminating the room. Clearly illuminating her mother’s face. Clearly illuminating Seo-ah’s trembling hands. Clearly illuminating Do-hyun’s tears. Everything was so clear. As if someone had forced Seo-ah’s eyes open.
In that moment, Seo-ah understood. Who she was now. Where she came from. What her voice had been.
It was fire.
Fire her mother had tried to extinguish.
Fire her father had been afraid of.
Fire Kang Ri-woo had been searching for.
And that fire was still burning.
For nothing.
END OF CHAPTER 193