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# Chapter 136: Waiting for a Signal
The convenience store’s fluorescent light continued to flicker at the same pace. A subtle vibration measured in seconds. Sae-ah was counting the flickers. One, two, three. Perfect intervals. As if someone were moving according to a predetermined rule. Like an automated system. Without emotion.
The new employee didn’t see Sae-ah. Or perhaps they did. But they didn’t register her presence. Sae-ah was just one of thousands of customers passing through the convenience store. Back when she’d worked here, most customers hadn’t recognized her by her face either. A woman from a gosiwon, or a convenience store clerk. Nothing more, nothing less.
Sae-ah walked. Past the convenience store toward Hongik University Station. 4:47 PM. Do-hyun wouldn’t have arrived yet. He was always ten minutes late to their meetings. That was his habit. Sae-ah knew this. She’d known for a long time.
The plaza in front of the station was crowded. A Saturday afternoon. The hour when all of Seoul’s youth converged on Hongik. Sae-ah stood among them. But when someone’s shoulder brushed hers, when someone stopped in front of her, she didn’t react. As if she were transparent. Or already dead.
She pulled out her phone. 4:52 PM. Eight minutes left. She opened KakaoTalk. There was a message from Hae-neul, sent this morning.
“What are you doing today? Answer me.”
Sae-ah didn’t respond. Instead, she looked at the messages from Kang Ri-u. Since leaving the hospital, he’d messaged her every day. At first, the messages were long. Paragraphs of text. But as time passed, they grew shorter. The last message was from yesterday.
“Waiting for the verdict.”
That was all. It felt like hearing her own words reflected back at her. The words she’d said: “We have to wait until the verdict comes.” He’d made them his own. Or she’d made them hers. It no longer mattered who’d spoken first. Their voices had become entangled.
“Unnie!”
Do-hyun appeared. Precisely at 5:02 PM. Ten minutes late. As expected. He wore an oversized hoodie over his middle school uniform. The style boys his age wore these days. Sae-ah thought of her own childhood. In Jeju. When she wore a uniform. Things weren’t as complicated back then.
“Have you been waiting long?”
Do-hyun asked. His eyes scanned her like a doctor making a diagnosis.
“No. I just got here.”
Sae-ah lied.
They searched for a restaurant. Along the Hongik streets. Do-hyun said things like “How about here?” or “That one seems too expensive.” But Sae-ah didn’t respond. She simply followed. Wherever Do-hyun went. As if she had no choice. Or no capacity to choose.
In the end, they chose a small noodle shop. A sign reading “Master Noodles.” Saturday, 5:47 PM. The shop was quiet. Most people were still at home or heading to bars for drinks. Early evening was a time no one wanted.
They sat at a table by the window. The Hongik street was visible. People walked. Cars passed. It was a world in constant motion. A world that never stopped. But the table where Sae-ah and Do-hyun sat was quiet.
“Unnie, can I ask you something?”
Do-hyun asked without looking at the menu.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing right now? Really.”
The same question. The one Hae-neul had asked. The one Kang Ri-u had asked. And Sae-ah knew that she didn’t know the answer.
“Waiting for the verdict to come down.”
Sae-ah answered.
“That’s not what I mean.”
Do-hyun said. “You’re weird these days. Really. When you talk to me, your eyes are looking somewhere else. When someone calls you, you respond three seconds later. Like it takes three seconds for the signal to reach you.”
Sae-ah looked at the ceiling of the noodle shop. It was clean. At least cleaner than the ceiling of her gosiwon. No mold stains. Someone must have cleaned it regularly.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Sae-ah asked. Not to Do-hyun, but to herself.
“Unnie, did you hear me? What did I just say?”
Do-hyun asked again.
“I heard. That I’m weird.”
Sae-ah answered.
“And?”
“And what am I supposed to do? Go back to normal? How? Who’s going to teach me how to be normal?”
Sae-ah’s voice didn’t rise. Still low. Still cold and clear. But Do-hyun heard the edges of it trembling. Like something moving beneath the surface.
The waiter brought water. Small side dishes with it. Gochujang, onions, pickled cucumber. Sae-ah picked up a glass of water. Drank it. Slowly. As if she were relearning what water was.
“I called Mom.”
Do-hyun said.
Sae-ah set the glass down. The sound of it hitting the table was sharp.
“What did she say?”
“I told her I don’t know what you’re doing, so you keep going to the hospital. You went three days before the verdict. And now you’re acting weird.”
Do-hyun said. “You know what Mom thinks? She thinks you still have something going on with Kang Ri-u. That you’re still connected.”
Sae-ah didn’t respond. Because her mother was right.
“And Mom says that’s the most dangerous thing. That the connection doesn’t break. Because even when the verdict comes down, even when it’s legally over, it’s not over psychologically. That’s what Mom said.”
“Is your mom a psychologist?”
Sae-ah asked. Like a joke. But she didn’t smile.
“No. She just knows. From living.”
Do-hyun opened the menu. To finally order. But his fingers stopped on it. As if he couldn’t find what he was looking for.
“Unnie, I don’t know what to say. But I’m really scared. So scared.”
Do-hyun said. His voice became smaller. “That I’m going to lose you. Really. Kang Ri-u is nothing to me. I don’t even know who he is, or why he did what he did to you. But what scares me is that you’re disappearing because of him. Bit by bit.”
Sae-ah looked at Do-hyun. For the first time. Really. She looked into his eyes. There were tears in them. Not falling, but there. Like a cup filled with water.
“I don’t want to lose you anymore. I’ve already lost Dad. Mom’s in Jeju. And I was alone. But you were there. So I kept living because of you. But now you’re disappearing. So what am I supposed to live for?”
Sae-ah could no longer see Do-hyun. As his eyes filled with tears, her vision blurred. Those were her own tears. For the first time in a long while. She felt them.
“I’m okay. I’ll be here.”
Sae-ah said. But that was a lie too.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Do-hyun said. “I can’t be deceived by you. You can’t lie to me. Because you’re everything to me. You’re my mother, my father, my sister. So you can’t lie to me.”
The waiter came again. To take their order. But Do-hyun raised his hand to wait. Not yet. Sae-ah hadn’t looked at the menu either.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Sae-ah said. For the first time after hearing Do-hyun’s words. This was the truth. Complete truth. “I thought I didn’t love Kang Ri-u. That I needed him out of obligation. But I was wrong. I love him. And that’s the part I can’t understand. How can I love someone who destroys himself like that?”
Do-hyun said nothing. He just listened. That was all that was needed.
“And the worst part is, I can’t stop it. I know. I know I have to get away from Kang Ri-u. Everyone tells me. Hae-neul, Mom, the judge, the police. Everyone. But I can’t. Because the moment I do, I think I’ll lose what I am.”
Sae-ah’s voice was trembling now. Like Kang Ri-u’s fingers. Like her own fingers. It was a physical tremor. The struggle of will made visible in her body.
“You’re not Kang Ri-u.”
Do-hyun said. Simply. Clearly.
“What?”
“You’re not Kang Ri-u. You’re you. And you can exist without Kang Ri-u. You’ve already proven it. In eight months, you’ve already proven it.”
Sae-ah looked at Do-hyun. And she realized. That her younger brother sees more clearly than she does. That he sees the pain of the person who is his older brother, mother, and father more vividly than his own.
“What should I do?”
Sae-ah asked again. This time not to herself, but to Do-hyun.
Do-hyun picked up the menu. And ordered.
“First, let’s eat. And tomorrow, let’s go to the hospital. Or before the verdict comes this week.”
“Why?”
“You need a psychological evaluation. You can’t end this alone. You need someone to help you.”
Sae-ah didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at her hands. They were trembling. Every three seconds. Precisely. As if someone were moving according to a predetermined rule.
The food came. Noodles. Two bowls. The noodles were warm. But Sae-ah didn’t eat. She just looked at them. As if waiting for them to tell her something.
“Eat.”
Do-hyun said. Not as Kang Ri-u, not as Hae-neul, but as her brother.
And Sae-ah ate. One spoonful. Then another. Slowly. As if proving she was alive. Or as if she were alive and dead at the same time. Somewhere in between, waiting for a signal.
They finished their noodles and left. The Hongik street was more crowded now. 7 PM. The hour when evening begins. People drank, watched movies, walked laughing with friends. Sae-ah and Do-hyun stood among them. Their time flowed at a different speed.
“What time should we go to the hospital tomorrow?”
Do-hyun asked.
“2 PM?”
Sae-ah suggested. Without any real basis.
“Got it. I’ll look for a good hospital.”
Do-hyun took Sae-ah’s hand. The way they had when they were children. In Jeju. When they waited for their mother. Like that. He held her hand. It was a signal. A signal to keep living. A signal that she wasn’t alone.
Sae-ah wanted to let go. To leave. To drop Do-hyun’s hand and go beyond the gosiwon, beyond everything. But Do-hyun didn’t let go.
“Is it okay if I keep holding on?”
Do-hyun asked.
“Yeah.”
Sae-ah answered.
They walked through the Hongik street hand in hand. 7:23 PM. Among the people. In a world in constant motion. That was all Sae-ah could do. Walk, breathe, and feel Do-hyun’s hand.
11:47 PM. Sae-ah was in her gosiwon. Alone. Do-hyun had left early because of academy, and Sae-ah had walked back along the Han River. For an hour and a half.
She opened her phone. No new messages from Kang Ri-u. Hae-neul had sent a message at 8 PM.
“Respond. Really.”
Sae-ah replied.
“I said I’m going to the hospital tomorrow, so wait.”
Hae-neul’s response was immediate.
“Oh my god. Finally. Why did it take you so long?”
Sae-ah didn’t respond. Instead, she sent a message to Kang Ri-u. It was the first time she’d reached out to him.
“Let’s not contact each other until the verdict comes down.”
Kang Ri-u took a long time to respond. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty. And finally, it came.
“Okay. Let’s do that. Sae-ah. I’m sorry.”
That was the last message. Sae-ah read it, and read it again, and read it again. As if it meant something. But it was just words. Letters.
She put her phone down and looked at the ceiling. Mold stains. Like a map. A map showing the way somewhere. But the map had no end. It pointed to a path that led nowhere.
11:53 PM. Sae-ah’s hands were no longer trembling. For the first time today. She didn’t know what it meant. Recovery, or the beginning of a deeper despair.
She lay in bed. And she remembered the feeling of Do-hyun’s hand holding hers. That was the only signal. To keep living. That she wasn’t alone.
It was enough. For now.
# Don’t Let Go of My Hand
## Part 1: The Space Between
Do-hyun stood in that space. Literally, physically in that space between them. He could feel how heavy the air was between Sae-ah and him. How dense. As if their time flowed at different speeds. Sae-ah’s time was slow, like a movie playing in slow motion, and Do-hyun’s time was fast, always trying to move forward. To bridge that gap, Do-hyun stood in that uncomfortable middle.
It was the cramped living room of a gosiwon. The fluorescent light emitted a cold glow, and under that light, Sae-ah’s face looked even paler. Do-hyun looked at her carefully. The dark shadows under her eyes, the pallor of her lips, and shoulders bent under the weight of having to make a decision. She looked like she was becoming transparent. Like she could disappear at any moment. Do-hyun couldn’t bear it.
“What time should we go to the hospital tomorrow?”
Do-hyun asked. He tried to keep his voice as casual as possible, but desperation was hidden within it. When? Where? Who? Such questions—reduced instead to a simple When? It was like asking: You’ll keep living, won’t you? You’ll stay by my side, won’t you?
Sae-ah thought for a long time. In that silence, Do-hyun could imagine her brain calculating. The hospital’s consultation hours, waiting times, and… the hours after that. The hours of diagnosis and judgment. All of it was compressed into the silence of that moment.
“2 PM?”
Sae-ah suggested. Without any real reason. Just a time that came to mind. 2 PM. The hour when the heat of noon has begun to fade. The afternoon when daylight is still plentiful, but the sun has already started to descend. It felt like the most neutral time.
“Okay. I’ll look for a good hospital.”
Do-hyun spoke as if this were the most important task. And truly, for him, it was. Finding a hospital. Finding a good one. Deciding where Sae-ah should go. It was proof that Sae-ah was still a being capable of making decisions. That she still had choices. That she was still alive.
And then Do-hyun took Sae-ah’s hand.
It was a sudden movement. Natural, as if planned beforehand, yet unexpected. Do-hyun’s hand was warm. His fingers were long, his palm slightly damp. Evidence that he cared. That Do-hyun understood how important this moment was.
“This is…”
Sae-ah began to speak, but Do-hyun gripped her hand tighter.
“Like in Jeju.”
Do-hyun whispered. “When we were children. Like when we waited for Mom. Like that.”
Jeju. The moment Sae-ah heard that word, memories of childhood came flooding in. White sand. The sound of waves. And Do-hyun’s hand. Back then, Do-hyun’s hand was smaller, softer, simpler. It was a mixture of protection and fear. Afraid their mother would disappear, yet believing that if she held her brother’s hand, everything would be okay. The pure belief of a child.
Was it the same now?
Would everything be okay if she held her brother’s hand now?
It was a signal. The pressure of Do-hyun’s hand. A signal to keep living. A signal that she wasn’t alone. A signal not to leave him. Everything was in the warmth of that hand.
Sae-ah wanted to let go. To leave. To drop Do-hyun’s hand and go beyond the gosiwon, beyond all of it. But Do-hyun wouldn’t let go. It was almost stubborn. Intense. Strong enough that Sae-ah couldn’t escape.
“Is it okay if I keep holding on?”
Do-hyun asked. His voice was trembling. For the first time, Sae-ah realized that her brother looked weak in this situation too. He’s scared too. He’s afraid of losing me too.
That realization was cruel. Because Sae-ah knew that she was the cause of that fear.
“Yeah.”
Sae-ah answered. That was all. One word. But it meant everything. Keep holding on. Don’t let go of me. Don’t abandon me.
## Part 2: A World in Motion
They walked through the Hongik street hand in hand.
7:23 PM. The exact time. When Do-hyun had checked his phone. Sae-ah knew why he’d wanted to note that time. To remember this moment. To prove that it had actually happened.
The Hongik street was vibrant. Friday evening. Young people swarmed everywhere. College students, office workers, dating couples, friends laughing among themselves. Everyone was moving forward. With time. With the world.
Sae-ah and Do-hyun walked among them too. Their hands remained connected. Sometimes, when jostled by the crowd, their hands gripped tighter. As if afraid of losing each other.
“See that? A new café.”
Do-hyun said. When Sae-ah didn’t respond, he continued.
“Want to go later? Have some coffee and study there.”
Sae-ah looked at Do-hyun. His face was trying to be bright. Trying to look as normal as possible. As if this were just an ordinary evening, just an ordinary walk between siblings, and tomorrow was just an ordinary tomorrow.
“Yeah.”
Sae-ah said. It was also a simple answer. But Do-hyun found hope in that word. Yeah. It meant: I’ll keep living. At least until tomorrow.
People passed them. No one paid attention. Two young people, holding hands, siblings. It looked unremarkable. Ordinary. Almost invisible.
But for Sae-ah, it was the most important moment. To continue moving in a world that never stops. To be moving herself. To not be standing still. To still be alive.
“Do-hyun.”
Sae-ah said.
“What?”
Do-hyun turned his head.
“Thank you.”
Do-hyun’s face softened. And he smiled. It wasn’t a genuine smile, but it was his best attempt.
“Don’t mention it. It’s what an older brother is for.”
The Hongik street continued to move. People continued to pass. Do-hyun and Sae-ah continued to walk. One step, then another. Without letting go. Breathing. On and on. And on.
That was all Sae-ah could do. Walk, breathe, and feel Do-hyun’s hand. The warmth of that hand. The pressure of that hand. What that hand meant.
## Part 3: Alone
11:47 PM.
Sae-ah was in her gosiwon. Alone. The room was quiet. The street noise barely reached here. Through the window, she could only see the lights of other gosiwons. Someone studying, someone sleeping, someone on the internet.
Someone, perhaps, thinking of death.
Do-hyun had left early because of academy. He still had things to do. Studies, a future, plans. Do-hyun’s life continued to move forward.
Sae-ah had walked back along the Han River. From Hongik to the Han. An hour and a half. Without purpose, her thoughts unorganized. She just wanted to keep moving. She was afraid that if she stopped, everything would come crashing down again.
When she opened the door to her gosiwon, Sae-ah became aware of her solitude for the first time. She could no longer feel Do-hyun’s hand. The space between his fingers. The warmth of his palm. It was all gone.
She opened her phone.
No new messages from Kang Ri-u. The last message was from this morning. It seemed like he’d asked her something, but Sae-ah hadn’t answered. She couldn’t. She didn’t know what to say to him.
From Hae-neul, there was a message at 8 PM.
“Respond. Really.”
A compulsive tone. Hae-neul was always like that. Obsessive. She wanted to know everything about Sae-ah. Her thoughts, her feelings, her plans. She controlled under the guise of friendship. But now, in this moment, that obsession felt like love.
Sae-ah replied.
“I said I’m going to the hospital tomorrow, so wait.”
Hae-neul’s response was immediate. A notification sounded. Right away.
“Oh my god. Finally. Why did it take you so long?”
Sae-ah read the message and started to type, then stopped. Multiple times. She didn’t know how to answer. Why did it take so long? The answer to that question was too long, too complicated, too painful.
Instead, she sent a message to Kang Ri-u. It was the first time she’d reached out to him.
“Let’s not contact each other until the verdict comes down.”
Her fingers trembled. The entire time she typed. She didn’t know if this was the right decision. But she had to continue. She had to send it. She had to finish this sentence. She had to end this relationship.
Kang Ri-u took a long time to respond.
Ten minutes.
Sae-ah put her phone down. She looked at the ceiling. Mold stains. Yellowed and dark. Like a map. A map showing a path somewhere. But the map had no end. It pointed to a path that led nowhere.
Fifteen minutes.
Sae-ah picked up her phone again. Still nothing. What was Kang Ri-u thinking as he read this message? Was he angry? Sad? Or relieved?
Twenty minutes.
She lay in bed. She continued to look at the mold stains on the ceiling. It was a map. A map of chaos. A map of the lost.
And finally, the notification sounded.
“Okay. Let’s do that. Sae-ah. I’m sorry.”
That was the last message.
“I’m sorry.”
Why? What are you sorry for? Sae-ah read the message, and read it again, and read it again. As if it might mean something. As if those two words could explain everything.
But they were just words. Letters. Sound waves. Pixels on a screen. Things that looked meaningful but were actually nothing.
Sae-ah put her phone down. Her fingers were trembling. No, they weren’t trembling. For the first time today, her hands were still. What it meant, Sae-ah couldn’t say. Was it recovery? Or the beginning of a deeper despair? Was it numbness? Or liberation?
## Part 4: The Physics of Night
11:53 PM.
Six minutes left. Six minutes until the day ended.
Sae-ah lay in bed. The narrow bed of her gosiwon. The mattress was hard, the pillow flat. But this was home. Her only space. The only place where she could separate herself from the world.
And she remembered the feeling of Do-hyun’s hand holding hers.
It was a memory of the body. A memory held by flesh. The feeling of fingers interlaced. The sensation of palms touching. The pulse of Do-hyun’s hand. She had felt it above her own hand.
The hand is where the most nerve endings concentrate. At the fingertips, there are hundreds of nerve terminals. They all send signals. Warmth. Pressure. Safety. Connection.
“Do-hyun.”
Sae-ah murmured into the darkness.
“Why won’t you let go of me?”
Of course, there was no answer. Do-hyun wasn’t here. Do-hyun was at the academy. Probably solving math problems. Functions, derivatives, integrals. Things that could be calculated. Things with answers.
Sae-ah’s life wasn’t like that. It couldn’t be calculated. There were no answers.
But Do-hyun’s hand existed. At least from 7:23 PM until around 8 PM. That hand proved one thing that couldn’t be calculated. Love. Or something like it.
Sae-ah lifted her hand into the darkness. She spread her fingers. The fingers Do-hyun had held. The space between her thumb and index finger. That’s where Do-hyun’s finger had been. At 7:23 PM.
Not now. Now it was