이 포스팅은 쿠팡 파트너스 활동의 일환으로, 이에 따른 일정액의 수수료를 제공받습니다.
# Chapter 198: The Weight of Truth, The End of Silence
When Kang Riou stood from beside the bed, his hand wouldn’t release his mother’s. Seo-ah watched that moment—how gently his hand lowered hers, as if handling the most fragile thing in the world. Do-hyun remained standing. Motionless as stone. Seo-ah saw that Do-hyun’s eyes wouldn’t leave Kang Riou. A brother met for the first time. Blood relation that had existed without a name. That weight pressed down on Do-hyun’s entire body.
“Do-hyun.”
Kang Riou spoke. As if merely calling a name made something true. As if proving he’d known this name all along.
“When did you find out?”
Do-hyun asked. The question seemed simple, but Seo-ah understood everything it contained. When. How long. Why didn’t you tell me. Why didn’t Mom tell me. Why didn’t I know.
“From the beginning.”
Kang Riou answered.
Haneul released Seo-ah’s arm. She stepped back. As if she understood this moment belonged only to Seo-ah, Do-hyun, and Kang Riou. A family moment. Seo-ah was no longer certain she belonged in that category. But Haneul seemed to know. Haneul always seemed to know.
“Then why…”
Do-hyun started. His voice cracked.
“Why didn’t you do anything? Why didn’t you find us? Why now…”
Do-hyun’s words filled the hospital room. Even the monitor’s beeping seemed to match their rhythm, as if the machine itself resonated with his anger.
Kang Riou walked toward the window. Slowly. As if his legs wouldn’t obey his commands. Beyond the glass, Seoul’s night sprawled out—lights everywhere, someone’s lives, someone’s homes, someone’s families. Kang Riou gazed at the window as if searching for something within those lights.
“When I first found out, I was…”
Kang Riou spoke. His voice sounded distant, as if coming from years ago.
“Nineteen. Father told me when he was drunk. He said he had a child with another woman. In Jeju. That Mother didn’t know. And he said, ‘Never tell anyone.’”
Do-hyun’s hand clenched into a fist. Seo-ah watched his fingers bend so hard they must have hurt. But Do-hyun didn’t react.
“What could I have done? I was nothing back then. Nothing but Father’s money and name. And…”
Kang Riou stopped. His hand touched the cold window glass. Warmth meeting cold. The contact created condensation.
“And what?”
Do-hyun demanded, not asked.
“I met your mother. A few years later. Through Father’s documents. By accident. And then I…”
Kang Riou spoke, then stopped again. Seo-ah could tell he was gathering courage for his next words.
“I wanted to see you both. Really. But I couldn’t. Because…”
Kang Riou turned around. His eyes met Do-hyun’s. In that moment, Seo-ah saw how deep his eyes were. How much they endured.
“Because meeting you both would mean acknowledging Father, and acknowledging Father would mean acknowledging your mother’s pain. And I… I wasn’t ready for that.”
Do-hyun took a step back, as if Kang Riou’s words had physical force. Seo-ah saw something shatter in Do-hyun’s face. Hope, anger, or both. She couldn’t tell.
“And now? Are you ready?”
Do-hyun asked quietly. Almost inaudibly. But everything was contained in that small voice.
Kang Riou didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at their mother in the bed. Her unconscious body. Her hand connected to monitors. Still existing, though she might never wake again.
“I brought Father’s documents.”
Kang Riou said suddenly. He raised the folder he’d been holding. Seo-ah thought she was seeing it for the first time. Or did she? Had he been holding it since entering the room?
“What’s in it?”
Seo-ah asked, driven by instinct that she needed to know.
“Your father’s name.”
Kang Riou said, looking at Do-hyun.
Silence fell over the hospital room. The monitor’s beeping became part of that silence. Seo-ah wasn’t certain she was breathing. Whether air was entering or leaving her lungs. Everything seemed to stop.
“I…”
Do-hyun started but couldn’t finish. His body swayed. Seo-ah thought he would collapse. Haneul moved quickly, catching Do-hyun’s arm.
“Sit down. Come on, sit here.”
Haneul guided Do-hyun to a chair. Do-hyun didn’t resist, as if his body no longer belonged to him.
Seo-ah walked toward Kang Riou. It wasn’t a deliberate movement. It simply felt like something that needed to happen. Her body knew where to go. Who to stand beside.
“We need to wake Mom.”
Seo-ah said. Not a question. A statement.
“She can’t wake up. The doctor said so. For now…”
Kang Riou spoke.
“Then we wait.”
Seo-ah said.
“Wait? For what?”
Do-hyun asked, sitting in the chair as if bound there.
“For the truth to make sense.”
Seo-ah answered. And in speaking those words, she realized what she was doing. She was becoming an older sister. Becoming the sister who held Do-hyun up.
Kang Riou opened the folder. His hands were still trembling. But he continued. Through the trembling. Through the instability. As if it was the only way.
“Here. This document.”
Kang Riou pulled out a paper. An old paper. A damaged paper. A paper marked by time.
“What is it?”
Do-hyun asked.
“Your birth certificate. Your father’s name is on it.”
Kang Riou said.
Seo-ah knew Do-hyun couldn’t take the paper. Not now. His hands wouldn’t move, as if his arms belonged to someone else.
So Seo-ah took it. As if that was her role.
Words on the paper. Seo-ah tried to read them. But the words trembled. Because her hands trembled. Or did the words themselves tremble, as if this information itself was unstable?
“Who is it?”
Seo-ah asked, as if she needed to know too.
Kang Riou didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at Seo-ah’s face. His gaze was saying something.
Seo-ah held the paper up. Under the fluorescent light.
A name. A Korean name. But it was a name Seo-ah didn’t know.
“Who is it?”
Do-hyun asked again. Louder this time. More desperately.
“Our father.”
Seo-ah read the name on the paper.
And in that moment, the hospital room changed. As if someone had turned off all the light. No, the light was still there. The fluorescent lamp still shone. But Seo-ah understood it had stopped illuminating anything. Instead, it made everything darker.
“Mom hid his name? Really?”
Do-hyun asked. The question wasn’t directed at Seo-ah. At no one. It was simply thrown into the air. A question that didn’t want an answer. Only a question to express rage.
Kang Riou stepped forward. His movement was decisive, as if he knew this was the last thing he had to do.
“Mother was protecting you. From him. By keeping his identity hidden from you.”
Kang Riou said.
“Protecting? With lies?”
Do-hyun asked.
“Sometimes truth is poison. For a child.”
Kang Riou answered.
Seo-ah heard something in Kang Riou’s words. Experience. As if speaking from his own. As if Kang Riou knew such truths too.
Haneul sat closer beside Do-hyun. Without words. Just by being there. It was enough.
“When Mom wakes up?”
Do-hyun asked.
“You’ll have to ask her.”
Seo-ah said.
“Will she tell us?”
Do-hyun asked.
No one answered. Because no one could know. No one could know what someone who hasn’t woken would say. What time that hasn’t come would bring.
Kang Riou walked to the window again. As if it was his place. The place where he watched Seoul’s night. The place where he searched for his family within the lights.
“What can I do?”
Kang Riou asked. He was asking himself.
Seo-ah didn’t answer. She had no words. She couldn’t understand what Kang Riou could do. A man who seemed capable of everything yet nothing at all. That was Kang Riou.
“Call Mom.”
Do-hyun suddenly said.
“What?”
Seo-ah asked.
“Mom. Director Kang Min-jun. Call her. Now. Ask her who his father is.”
Do-hyun spoke. His voice grew louder. “Tell her to tell us his father’s name. Ask her who our father is!”
Seo-ah heard Do-hyun shout. For the first time. She’d never heard Do-hyun shout like this.
Kang Riou took out his phone. His hands trembled, but he pulled it out. He dialed a number.
Haneul took Do-hyun’s hand. To unclench it. To make it no longer a fist.
Seo-ah watched Kang Riou’s face. The phone was ringing. From far away. From someone’s bedroom. While waking someone’s night.
Kang Riou’s hands trembled more severely.
The call was answered.
Then came silence. The most enormous silence. The silence of Chapter 23 in the 25 chapters of Book 8.
Kang Riou didn’t speak. Instead, he simply said:
“Father. It’s me. Kang Riou. And right now I’m with your other son. Our brother Do-hyun is beside me and wants to ask who his father is. So…”
Kang Riou’s voice trembled.
“So there’s only one person here who can tell you who his father is. Mother. And Mother can’t wake up right now.”
Kang Riou stopped.
“But I know, Father. Because I brought your documents. And…”
Kang Riou paused again.
“And Do-hyun wants to meet his father. Really. Right now.”
Something came through the phone. A sound. Movement. Someone rising from bed. No, it wasn’t that. It was silence. The most enormous silence. Father’s silence. Kang Min-jun’s silence.
Seo-ah understood what that silence meant. Everything would change now. This night was the last. From tomorrow night on, her family’s shape would be completely different.
Kang Riou lowered the phone.
“He’s coming.”
Kang Riou said. Quietly. Almost whispering.
“When?”
Do-hyun asked.
“Now.”
Kang Riou answered.
And Book 8’s finale began. In a hospital room waiting for a father. Beside a mother who hadn’t woken. And in Seo-ah’s hands, the birth certificate still remained. Do-hyun’s name. And his father’s name. That name now shone in Seo-ah’s hands. Under the fluorescent light. As if it were a flame itself.
Seo-ah looked down at the paper. She tried to read the letters. But she couldn’t. Her eyes were too blurred. From tears. She didn’t know when she’d started crying. But tears fell on the paper. On the name of Do-hyun’s father.
Haneul embraced Seo-ah. Without words. That was enough. That was all that was needed.
The hospital room’s monitor continued its beeping. Regularly. Proof of life. Continued heartbeat. Mother’s heart. Still beating. The heart enduring all of this.
And in the hallway, footsteps were heard. Fast footsteps. Someone running. Kang Min-jun coming. Seo-ah’s father coming.
Book 8 had ended. Book 9 was about to begin.