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# Chapter 196: Before Finding His Father
The moment Dohyun’s words fell away, Sae-ah’s body went rigid. It was as if someone had poured ice down her spine. Our older brother. Those five syllables shattered something inside her—not gradually, but all at once. Like a mirror dropping. All reflection ending in a single moment.
“What did you just say?”
Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It was higher. Thinner. Someone else’s voice borrowed from somewhere.
Dohyun looked at her. His eyes were sharp—too sharp. So sharp that Sae-ah realized this boy was no longer someone she needed to protect. He was someone who already knew more than she did.
“Kang Riou. Our older brother. Min-joon’s son.”
Dohyun spoke slowly, as if pronouncing each English word with deliberate care.
“How could you possibly—”
“Mom told me. When she came to. She said, ‘Don’t let Riou see me. Tell your sister. If Riou comes.’ And then he called, and you acted like nothing was wrong.”
Anger threaded through his voice—but not at her. At the situation itself. At the world.
Haeul grabbed Sae-ah’s arm. Lightly. But unmistakably. It was a warning. Or support. Sae-ah could no longer tell the difference.
“Dohyun. Sit down.”
“No.”
“Sit down.”
Sae-ah said it louder this time.
He didn’t sit. Instead, he stood beside their mother’s bed, his hand gripping hers—the unconscious hand, warm but unresponsive.
“What exactly did Mom say? About Min-joon?”
Sae-ah looked out the window. Seoul at night. Lights. Cars. Someone’s life. Someone’s family. She no longer knew which world she belonged to.
“She said Min-joon was afraid of you. Of your voice.”
Sae-ah’s words came quiet, fractured.
“What?”
“That’s what she said. Not all of it, but… I thought Riou knew something. So I called him and—”
“And what did he say?”
“That he was going to look for Father’s documents. At the house.”
Dohyun’s grip on their mother’s hand tightened. Hard enough to wake her. But she didn’t wake. She remained asleep. Or gone. Sae-ah couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
“We don’t even know who our father is, and we have an older brother?”
The question pierced through her. Exact. So exact that Sae-ah felt her chest splinter.
“Yes. We have an older—”
She stopped. How could she explain it? Who Riou was? Why he mattered now? Why his hands were shaking?
“Why did Mom tell you not to?”
Sae-ah had no answer, because she didn’t have one. Mom’s words had been fragments. Riou’s silence had been deafening. And between them, Sae-ah had been floating. On water with no answers.
Haeul pulled a chair forward—as if to sit between them. Then stopped. Instead, she turned toward the door.
“Someone’s coming.”
Footsteps in the hallway. Quick. Running. Sae-ah recognized them instantly. The breathing. She’d heard it through a phone line.
Kang Riou opened the door. His face was pale—drained, as if someone had emptied every drop of blood from his veins. His eyes had lost focus. And his hands—they were trembling. More clearly than the breathing she’d heard on the phone.
“Sae-ah.”
It wasn’t a greeting. It was a confirmation. You’re here.
“What did you do?”
Riou didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at Dohyun. And in that moment, something crossed his face. Recognition. Or something beyond it. Fear.
“You’re Dohyun?”
“Yes.”
His voice wasn’t cold. Curious, maybe. Or guarded. Sae-ah couldn’t tell.
Riou looked back at Sae-ah. Their eyes met. And she understood—he was trying to tell her something. Not with words. With silence.
“Where’s Mom?”
“Sleeping.”
Riou walked to the bed. His steps were careful, as if afraid she’d wake. He stared at their mother’s face for a long time. Too long. Long enough that Sae-ah thought he was trying to read something. The truth, perhaps. Written somewhere in her sleeping features.
“I have to go.”
“What?”
“Now. Right now.”
“Why? What did you find?”
Riou looked at her. Something burned in his eyes. Determination. Or despair. She couldn’t tell which.
“I have to see Father.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
“In the middle of the night?”
Dohyun asked.
Riou met his gaze. And in that moment, Dohyun’s eyes changed. As if he’d understood something.
“If you’re our older brother, why weren’t you here before?”
Riou didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled something from his pocket. A folder. A USB drive. Both trembling in his hands.
“What is that?”
“Evidence. Of what Father did.”
“What did he do?”
“He tried to erase you.”
Silence fell over the room. The heart monitor broke it. Steady. Relentless. Proof that their mother’s heart kept beating.
“What?”
“All records. Your birth. Your name. Everything. He tried to delete you from existence. The documents are here.”
Riou held up the USB.
“Why?”
“Because of you.”
“Because of me? What do you mean?”
Riou looked back at their unconscious mother. That quiet face. That steady breath.
“What did Mom say? About your voice?”
“That it was burning.”
Riou nodded. As if this was exactly what he’d expected to hear.
“Father heard you when you were small. Your voice. And he was afraid. He thought the only way to fix it was to make you disappear.”
“Disappear?”
Dohyun’s voice wavered.
“Legally. Erase your existence from every record. If you don’t exist on paper, then you don’t exist at all. That’s what he believed.”
Sae-ah looked at her hands. They were shaking. Worse than Riou’s.
“Mom stopped him?”
“Yes. She stopped him. And that’s why we have this.”
Riou held the USB up again.
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Show him. And then—”
He paused.
“Then what?”
“End it.”
“End what?”
Riou didn’t answer. He left the room quickly. As if someone were chasing him.
Sae-ah started to follow. But Dohyun grabbed her arm.
“Sister. What are you doing?”
“What?”
“That man. Riou. I think he’s going to do something.”
Sae-ah looked into her brother’s eyes. They were full of fear. Child’s fear. Or something beyond it. She understood then: her younger brother was reading something more clearly than she could.
“Watch Mom.”
“What about you?”
Sae-ah didn’t answer. She left.
The hallway was a nighttime hallway. Fluorescent lights burned too bright, making everything feel false. Sae-ah tried to find Riou. But he was already gone. Or deeper. Into the hospital’s deeper places.
Her phone rang. Riou.
“Hello?”
“Do you have questions for me?”
“Many.”
“I can’t answer them now. Just know—when this is all over, I’ll explain everything.”
“Promise?”
Silence filled the line. Seconds. Then his breathing. Decisive breathing.
“Promise.”
The call ended.
Sae-ah stood in the hallway. Under fluorescent lights. In a nighttime hospital. And she felt it then—the trembling. Not from cold. From loss. Or something deeper than loss. Doubt about her own existence. Whether she was real at all.
When Riou got in his car, his hands were still shaking. He held the USB. And he drove. Toward Gangnam. Toward Min-joon.
Seoul at night. Lights. Traffic signals. Cars. Everyone heading somewhere. Toward someone. Toward someone’s truth.
His car was one of them. Cutting through nighttime Seoul. Before going to find his father, Riou stopped once more. By the Han River. He looked at the lights reflected on the water.
And he thought: When this is over, can I really explain? Everything I’ve found? Or are these things beyond explanation? Father’s malice. Mother’s fear. And my silence. Everything we’ve all kept silent about.
Riou’s car kept moving. Through nighttime Seoul. His hands kept trembling. And in the hospital hallway, Sae-ah still stood. Under those fluorescent lights. As if trying to confirm, once more, that she existed.
End of Chapter 196