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# Chapter 138: The End of Laughter
Do-hyun’s laughter didn’t last long. That laugh directed at the ceiling of the noodle shop lasted barely three seconds before stopping abruptly, as if someone had turned off a switch. And when that silence settled in, Sea-ah could see just how exhausted her brother was. The fatigue didn’t show on his face. Do-hyun’s face was still young, his skin still clear, his eyes still bright. But something emanating from his entire body—that was the exhaustion. As if someone had moved their finger down his spine and switched him off, one vertebra at a time.
“What am I supposed to tell Mom?”
Do-hyun asked slowly, picking up and putting down his phone repeatedly.
“What do you want to tell her?”
“That you’re doing well? That you’re waiting for the verdict? That you’re fine?”
Sea-ah felt something burning in her throat. As if someone had struck a match inside her windpipe. It didn’t hurt. It was just hot. And she could feel that heat spreading throughout her entire body.
“Do-hyun.”
Sea-ah spoke. Her voice had been hoarse for days now. Probably since she’d walked into Kang Ri-u’s hospital room. Whatever she’d said there had taken her voice. “I’m not…”
“What?”
“I’m not waiting for anything.”
Sea-ah continued, as if realizing it for the first time herself. “I’m just… frozen. I thought I was waiting for something, but the truth is I’m not waiting for anything. I’m just… here. Holding my breath while I’m here, waiting for something to happen.”
A fork clattered against the table as Do-hyun set it down. The small metallic sound echoed through the entire shop. Because at this hour, there was almost no one in the shop. One staff member emerged from the kitchen, looked at Sea-ah and Do-hyun, but did nothing. They simply disappeared back inside.
“Then what do you want?”
Do-hyun asked.
“I don’t know.”
Sea-ah answered. It wasn’t a lie. It was neither lie nor truth—just fact. Sea-ah didn’t know what she wanted. Or more precisely, she didn’t know what she deserved to want.
“You’re being helped by Kang Ri-u right now.”
Do-hyun said slowly, as if these were words he’d prepared long ago. “Legal fees. Hospital bills. All of it.”
“Yes.”
“And in return, what are you giving him?”
Sea-ah didn’t answer.
“Your time. Your emotions. Your future. Everything you can give.”
Do-hyun continued. “And he thinks he’s ‘saving’ you by taking those things. But you’re accepting it. Why?”
“I…”
Sea-ah opened her mouth. Then closed it again.
“Because I love him? Because I owe him? Because I need to help him?”
Do-hyun answered for her. “It’s all a lie. You don’t need him. But he’s convinced himself that you need him. And you’re believing it.”
Sea-ah’s hands trembled. Exactly as Do-hyun had predicted. Every three seconds. Precisely. Like clockwork.
“What can I do?”
Do-hyun asked again. But this time in a different tone. Not angry, not despairing. Just tired. “What can I tell you? You’ve already given everything to someone else. And I just have to wait until that person decides to give you back. Is that fair?”
“No.”
Sea-ah said quietly.
“Then?”
Do-hyun asked. But Sea-ah couldn’t answer. Because the answer to that question would destroy her.
She looked at the clock in the noodle shop. 6:15 PM. At this hour, everyone in Seoul was doing something. Someone was drinking. Someone was watching a movie. Someone was on their way home. But Sea-ah and Do-hyun were here. In front of noodles. Cold noodles. That no one had eaten.
“Mom asked.”
Do-hyun said suddenly, as if signaling a change of subject. “If you were coming to Jeju.”
Sea-ah’s body went rigid.
“What did you say?”
“I said you didn’t have to decide yet. But Mom asked with a smile. ‘Is Do-hyun’s sister ready to make music now?’”
Sea-ah’s eyes fixed on Do-hyun.
“Mom still thinks that. That you’ll make music once the verdict comes in. But from what I can see…”
Do-hyun pushed the noodle bowl away. “You’re not preparing to make music. You’re preparing to disappear. Slowly. Piece by piece. Losing everything that makes you you.”
Sea-ah reached for the fork. But stopped. Because her hand didn’t feel like her own. As if someone else were controlling her arm. And that someone was Kang Ri-u. Or herself. She couldn’t tell the difference.
“What can I do?”
Do-hyun asked again. This time in a different voice. As if he too were giving up. “What can I do? How can I save my sister?”
Sea-ah didn’t answer. Because that answer would destroy her. And Do-hyun knew it. So he fell silent. And in that silence, Sea-ah realized how many people she was hurting. Hurting Do-hyun. Hurting Hae-neul. Hurting their mother. And hurting herself.
“Wait for the verdict. That’s what you told me, remember?”
Do-hyun said as he left the noodle shop. 6:32 PM. “But what happens after the verdict comes? What then?”
Sea-ah followed him. Out of the shop. Into the streets of Hongdae. The Saturday evening streets were getting busier now. Students, office workers, and people of indeterminate age. Everyone was going somewhere. But Sea-ah and Do-hyun were frozen in place. Like two stones.
“What did you say earlier?”
Do-hyun asked on the street. Voices of pedestrians mixed together around them. “You said you weren’t waiting for the verdict.”
“Right.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Sea-ah looked at the Hongdae street. Below it, the river flowed. The Han River. It was always there. Day or night, summer or winter. It was unchanging. But the bridges above it kept moving. Cars passing, people crossing, time flowing.
“I…”
Sea-ah opened her mouth. “I’m preparing to disappear.”
Do-hyun’s face went pale.
“Kang Ri-u is giving me something. Money, lawyers. But in return, I’m giving him myself. Slowly. A little at a time. And at some point, I think I’ll be completely gone. And by then the verdict will be in. But it won’t matter what the verdict is. Because I’ll already be gone.”
Sea-ah finished speaking. And the moment those words left her mouth, she felt something click into place. No, not click—the words made it real. By saying it aloud, it became true.
Do-hyun said nothing. Instead, he grabbed Sea-ah’s arm. His fingers. Very tightly. As if he would fall away somewhere if he didn’t hold on. And in that moment, Sea-ah understood. How much Do-hyun loved her. And how completely she’d been ignoring that love.
“What can I do?”
Do-hyun asked again. But this time he was asking himself, not her. As if asking someone he didn’t even know. “What can I do? How can I save my sister?”
Sea-ah looked at Do-hyun’s hand. The one holding her arm. It wasn’t trembling. Do-hyun’s hand was strong. Steady. But it was heavier for it. Because it was a hand reaching out to hold someone. And Sea-ah couldn’t accept it. Because she didn’t think she deserved to.
“I can handle it alone.”
Sea-ah lied. “Until the verdict. Alone.”
“You’re not alone.”
Do-hyun said, very firmly. “Never.”
But that was also a lie. Because Sea-ah was already alone. No—she was becoming alone. Every day. Every hour. Every minute.
Hongik University Station Plaza was getting more crowded. 7 PM. Saturday evening. All of Seoul’s young people were gathering here. But Sea-ah and Do-hyun were apart from it all. As if living in a different time.
“What about tomorrow?”
Do-hyun asked as they left Hongdae. “What will you do tomorrow?”
“I don’t know.”
Sea-ah answered. It was the truth. What tomorrow would be, what she could do tomorrow, whether she could exist tomorrow. Sea-ah didn’t know.
“I have to go back to Jeju. What do I tell Mom?”
Do-hyun stopped at the station entrance. “That you’re doing well? That you’re fine?”
“Yes.”
Sea-ah said automatically. Like a programmed robot.
“That’s a lie.”
Do-hyun said. “You’re lying right now. You’re imitating someone. Who? Mom, who gave up everything for herself? Or Dad? What did Dad say before he died? Do you remember?”
Sea-ah remembered. What her father had said before he died. It was very short. “Live well.”
“That was all?”
Do-hyun asked.
“Yes.”
“But you understood it completely backwards. You heard it as ‘live for the people left behind.’ But Dad was saying ‘live for yourself.’ That’s all.”
Something fell from Sea-ah’s eyes. Tears. Without her knowing. Without knowing when she’d started crying.
“I have to go.”
Do-hyun said. “To the station. Back to Jeju. Mom is waiting. And you?”
Sea-ah didn’t answer.
“Where will you go? Your rooming house? The hospital? Or to Kang Ri-u?”
Do-hyun’s question was sharp as a blade. And Sea-ah knew the answer. She knew where she would go.
“You’re going to Kang Ri-u?”
Do-hyun asked again.
Sea-ah said nothing.
“Right. You’ll go there. Because you’re comfortable there. It hurts, but it feels safe. It’s wrong, but it’s the only place. Isn’t it?”
Sea-ah remained silent.
“Goodbye.”
Do-hyun said. And he went into the station. Down the escalator. And Sea-ah watched. Her brother growing smaller. Going underground. And finally disappearing.
Sea-ah walked toward the Han River. Unconsciously. As if her legs weren’t following her brain. When she reached Han River Park, the time was 7:47 PM. Lights were falling over the river. The lights of the buildings across the water. As if someone were turning them off one by one. Or turning them on.
Sea-ah sat on a bench. She looked at the river. And she took out her phone.
She wrote a message to Kang Ri-u.
“Can we meet tomorrow?”
The reply came immediately. As if Kang Ri-u had been waiting for that message.
“Yeah. 10 AM. The cafe where we always meet.”
Sea-ah looked at the message. Then at the Han River. Then at her own hand. It was still trembling. Every three seconds. Precisely. Like a countdown.
# Lies by the Riverside
## Part One: Auto-Reply
“Live well.”
The words came from Sea-ah’s mouth, but her voice didn’t sound like her own. As if someone else was speaking through her vocal cords. Automatically. Like a programmed robot. The moment she spoke, Sea-ah knew she was telling a massive lie. But she couldn’t stop. Like audio that was already recorded and playing back, the words kept flowing out.
“Live well.”
Again. Louder. With more conviction.
Do-hyun was looking at Sea-ah. His eyes were sharp. Almost sharp enough to wound. Under the bright fluorescent lights of the airport, Do-hyun’s face looked even paler. He should still have had Jeju’s sunlight on him, but his skin was white as if he hadn’t seen sunlight in a long time. Probably because he’d been indoors caring for their mother. At that thought, Sea-ah’s chest sank.
“That’s a lie.”
Do-hyun said. His voice carried not anger, but something worse—pity. Because anger at least meant you still saw the other person as human.
“You’re lying right now. You’re imitating someone.”
Do-hyun stepped closer. Sea-ah instinctively stepped back. But she couldn’t escape his eyes.
“Who? Mom, who gave up everything for herself? Or Dad?”
Sea-ah’s throat tightened. Dad. Just that word made her eyes sting.
“What did Dad say before he died? Do you remember?”
Sea-ah remembered. With perfect clarity. It was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. Her father lying in the hospital bed. An oxygen mask covered his mouth, his eyes already half-closed. All the nurses had left. Sea-ah alone held his hand. His hand was already growing cold. As if his entire body was slowly freezing.
That’s when her father opened his mouth. In a very weak voice. Like wind escaping.
“Live well.”
That was all. Three words. A sentence that took seconds to finish. And after that, her father never opened his mouth again. Twelve hours later, a straight line appeared on the heart monitor.
“Yes.”
Sea-ah answered. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“But you understood it completely backwards.”
Do-hyun continued. Each word pierced through Sea-ah’s chest.
“You heard it as ‘live for the people left behind.’ For Mom. For me. For someone. Right? By sacrificing yourself. By erasing yourself. That’s how you understood it.”
Sea-ah opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. He was right. Perfectly right.
“But Dad was saying ‘live for yourself.’ That’s all. For your happiness. For your future. That was Dad’s last words.”
Sea-ah’s eyes began to sting. As if someone were throwing sand into them. But it wasn’t sand. Tears. Hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Without her knowing. Without realizing when she’d started crying.
Sea-ah covered her face with her hands. She knew people at the airport were staring. A young woman crying at the airport. It would have been like a scene from a drama. But Sea-ah didn’t care. She didn’t have the energy left to worry about other people’s eyes.
Do-hyun handed her a tissue. His hands were trembling too.
## Part Two: The Crossroads
“I have to go.”
Do-hyun said. His voice was no longer sharp. Rather, it sounded exhausted.
“To the station. Back to Jeju. Mom is waiting.”
Sea-ah lifted her head. She looked directly at Do-hyun’s face. He was still her brother. But sometime, his face had become unfamiliar. Like looking at a stranger’s face.
“How is Mom?”
Sea-ah asked.
“She’s gotten worse. The doctor said six months. Maybe sooner. That’s why I’ve been staying there. You… you need to come down too. Now.”
Sea-ah didn’t answer. Jeju. The word had weight to it. Like a boulder.
“And you?”
Do-hyun asked. “Where will you go?”
Sea-ah was silent.
“Your rooming house? Keep studying for the bar exam? Or the hospital? Or…”
Do-hyun paused. As if gathering courage to speak the next words.
“…Kang Ri-u?”
When that name came out, the noise of the airport seemed to disappear. The sound of airplane engines. The footsteps of people. The dragging of luggage. All of it vanished, and only Do-hyun’s voice reached Sea-ah’s ears.
“I know. You met him last month. And you’ve been meeting him since. Mom knows. I know. And maybe you… maybe you know too. How dangerous it is.”
Sea-ah’s heart began racing wildly. She was looking at Do-hyun’s face. That face held not anger, but despair.
“Kang Ri-u is… he’s not a good person. You know that. You know what he’s done, what he’s doing.”
“That’s…”
Sea-ah opened her mouth.
“…what?”
She was shocked at her own question. It was a lie. Sea-ah knew what Kang Ri-u had done. Drugs. Violence. And more. But it didn’t matter. Or rather, it mattered, but there was something more important. She didn’t know what.
“Do you really not know? Or are you pretending not to know?”
Do-hyun asked.
Sea-ah didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at Do-hyun. And she thought. Do-hyun is taking care of Mom. Every day. 24 hours. Endlessly. Giving up his own life. He even dropped out of university. Gave up his dreams. Gave up everything for Mom.
And Sea-ah?
Sea-ah thought she was fighting for her own life. Studying for the bar. Seeing Kang Ri-u. Fighting for her future.
But she knew that was a lie.
Sea-ah wasn’t fighting. She was running away.
“Right. You’ll go to Kang Ri-u.”
Do-hyun continued. As if Sea-ah’s silence itself was the answer.
“Because you’re comfortable there. It hurts, but it feels safe.”
“That’s not…”
“It’s wrong, but it’s the only place. Isn’t it? You don’t have to decide anything. You don’t have to choose anything. Just flow. Just drift. That’s easy. That’s safe.”
Sea-ah’s lips trembled.
“That’s not it. You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me. Explain what Kang Ri-u is to you.”
Do-hyun stepped closer.
“Giving yourself up for someone else can be a lie. And giving up everything for yourself can also be a lie. The truth is… the truth is balance. Taking care of yourself while taking care of others. That’s real living. That’s what Dad said. And you…”
Do-hyun’s voice grew thin.
“…you’ve abandoned both. You’ve abandoned yourself and you’ve abandoned your family. And standing next to Kang Ri-u, you’re trying to become no one. What is that? Is that real freedom?”
Sea-ah couldn’t do anything. All she could do was cry. Continuing to shed the tears she’d already cried.
## Part Three: Longing
“Goodbye.”
Do-hyun said.
“Wait. Don’t go.”
Sea-ah reached out her hand. But Do-hyun’s hand was already beyond hers.
“Will you come to Jeju? Will you take care of Mom?”
“Yes. I will. Please.”
Do-hyun said.
And he turned around. Toward the station. Toward the escalator. His back grew smaller. Sea-ah watched it. Her brother growing smaller. Going underground. Down to the subway platform. And finally disappearing from sight.
Sea-ah stood in that spot. For a long time. Staring at where Do-hyun had disappeared. As if expecting him to reappear. But he didn’t.
People at the airport kept moving. Countless people passed Sea-ah. Some brushed past her side. Some went around her. But no one stopped. No one asked who Sea-ah was or why she was standing there. Sea-ah was just one person among the many at the airport.
Sea-ah slowly began to move. In the opposite direction from Do-hyun. Toward the airport exit. Toward ground level. Toward the Han River.
## Part Four: Evening by the River
Sea-ah walked unconsciously. As if her legs weren’t following her brain. Or perhaps the opposite. As if her brain no longer controlled her legs. Out of Gangnam Station, toward Han River Park. Without thinking about going there.
When she arrived at Han River Park, the time was 7:47 PM. Sea-ah checked her phone. Exactly 7:47 PM. As if that time held some important meaning.
Lights were falling over the river. The lights of buildings across the water. Office lights, apartment lights. As if someone were turning them off one by one. Or turning them on. In a regular pattern. As if someone had planned it all along.
The river itself gleamed. The building lights reflected on the water’s surface. As if the river were a mirror. Sea-ah tried to find herself in that mirror. But the mirror rippled too much. From the wind. It was autumn now, and the evening breeze was quite cold.
Sea-ah sat on a bench. She looked at the river. The river kept flowing. Never stopping. Never resting. The river seemed to know its destination. Sea-ah envied the river. The river knows where it’s going. But Sea-ah?
Sea-ah took out her phone.
She opened the KakaoTalk app. In her conversation list, she found Kang Ri-u’s name. Next to his name was his last message. A message he’d sent three days ago.
“When do you want to meet?”
Sea-ah wrote a new message below it. Her fingers trembled. It was hard to type accurately on the screen.
“Can we meet tomorrow?”
She asked like that. Adding the formal ending without realizing it.
The reply came immediately. As if Kang Ri-u had been waiting for that message. As if he’d been holding his phone, standing by.
“Yeah. 10 AM. The cafe where we usually meet.”
Sea-ah read the message. Then read it again. And again.
“10 AM.”
Sea-ah muttered to herself.
Tomorrow at 10 AM. That cafe. The cafe where Sea-ah and Kang Ri-u had first met. A small, dark cafe near Gangnam Station. Always crowded, always smelling of cigarettes. But they had spent a lot of time there. Holding Kang Ri-u’s hand. Listening to Kang Ri-u’s voice. Believing Kang Ri-u’s lies.
Sea-ah looked at the Han River. And at her own hand. It was still trembling. Every three seconds. Precisely. Like a countdown.
It was a countdown. Sea-ah realized.
The trembling in her hand was a countdown. Something was about to begin. No, it had already begun. And she could no longer stop it.
## Part Five: The Weight of Choice
Sea-ah continued to look at the river. The lights across the water were growing brighter. Evening was deepening. Sea-ah’s phone was in her hand. Kang Ri-u’s message was still on the screen.
“10 AM. The cafe where we usually meet.”
Looking at that sentence, Sea-ah thought that maybe she wouldn’t go there. Turn off her phone. Block his number. Not go to that cafe. Just…