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# Chapter 176: Silence Through the Phone
Sae-a heard Haneul’s voice in her ear, but she didn’t answer. The sound of the Han River flowed in the background like ambient noise. The Han River at eight o’clock at night was entirely different from the daytime. Light shattered against the water, gathered again, scattered. Sae-a watched the process repeat. As if her own identity was breaking apart in the same way.
“Sae-a?”
Haneul called again.
“Yeah.”
Sae-a barely spoke. One syllable. Something like breath. A sound too meager to be called words.
“What’s up? Your voice sounds weird. You okay?”
Haneul asked. She always asked that way. The moment something seemed off with Sae-a, Haneul caught it immediately. As if Haneul could read her soul. As if Haneul was the only one who truly knew Sae-a.
But now she understood. No one knew Sae-a. Not even Sae-a knew herself.
“Where are you right now?”
Haneul kept asking. A flood of questions. As if she already knew Sae-a was running from her.
“Han River Park.”
Sae-a answered.
“Alone?”
Haneul asked.
“Yeah.”
Sae-a answered.
Silence flowed through the phone line. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. In fact, Sae-a needed it. Time when she didn’t have to speak. Time when no one demanded she explain herself.
“Can I come get you now?”
Haneul asked. Not an order, but a question. Yet it was already decided. Haneul was already moving toward somewhere. Even if Sae-a didn’t answer, Haneul would come. That was who Haneul was.
“Yeah.”
Sae-a answered.
The call ended. Sae-a put down her phone. The Han River’s wind rustled through her hair. Seoul’s night air. A mixture of exhaust, someone’s perfume, and the Han River’s humidity. Sae-a breathed it in. Deeply. As if trying to prove she belonged to this city.
But she didn’t belong to this city. She didn’t belong anywhere. Not Jeju, not Seoul, and now not even to her own family.
Do-hyun must have called again. But Sae-a didn’t check. What would she say? That she was sitting in Han River Park? That she couldn’t explain why she was here when her mom was in the hospital?
An abandoned coffee cup sat beside the bench. Sae-a looked at it. Someone had sat here, drunk something, and left. Where was that person now? Did they go meet someone? Or are they walking alone somewhere? Does that person know who they are? Do they wonder about their identity?
Sae-a’s hands trembled. No, they always trembled. But the tremor was worse now. As if her body was trying to catch up to her mind. As if her fingers were speaking to her brain. Who are you? Do you really exist?
Her phone screen lit up. A text message. From Kang Ri-u.
“Noona. Mom told me everything. I’m sorry. Really. Whatever my intentions were in approaching you, that can’t be justified. I was wrong. But I want to say one thing. You’re truly special. You really need to become someone. And not because you’re someone’s daughter—because you’re just you.”
Sae-a read the message. Once, twice, three times. As if the words might change. As if their meaning would shift depending on how she read them.
That she was special. That she needed to become someone. And that it was because of herself, not because of her father.
Sae-a laughed. A small laugh. A sound she couldn’t tell was laughter or tears. The Han River’s night was quiet, but Sae-a’s laughter broke through it. Like someone’s scream.
Why Ri-u had searched for her. Why Ri-u had tried to save her. She understood now. It wasn’t because he loved her. It was because she was his older sister. It was the call of blood. The obsession of kinship.
But what were the words Ri-u sent at the end? They transcended blood. They saw Sae-a as a human being purely.
Sae-a covered her face with her hands. She didn’t want to confirm whose face it was. She hoped it was someone other than Kang Mi-jun’s daughter. But that was impossible. Her face already reflected her father’s. And that couldn’t be erased.
Kang Mi-jun. That name was lodged in her chest. Like a nail. A nail that could never be removed.
Footsteps sounded. Someone was running toward Han River Park. Rough breathing. Quick steps. Sae-a lifted her head. In the darkness, she saw Haneul’s silhouette. Tattooed arms. An oversized hoodie. Haneul running toward her.
Haneul sat beside Sae-a. She didn’t speak. Just sat. As if speaking would contaminate this moment.
“Mom told me something.”
Sae-a spoke first.
Haneul waited. Knowing more words would come.
“Kang Mi-jun is… my father.”
Sae-a said it formally. As if she were officially reporting to someone. As if this were a news article.
Haneul didn’t move. It looked like she wasn’t even breathing.
“Kang Ri-u is… my older brother.”
Sae-a continued.
Haneul reached out and took Sae-a’s hand. It was warm. A hand touched by tattoo needles. It gripped Sae-a’s hand firmly.
“Okay. I heard.”
Haneul said.
“You heard?”
Sae-a asked.
“Yeah, I heard. And?”
Haneul asked. As if this weren’t important information. As if Sae-a had just said she wanted chocolate.
“And… who am I?”
Sae-a asked.
Haneul looked at Sae-a’s face. In the night’s light. The Han River’s glow reflected in Haneul’s eyes. As if she were illuminating Sae-a’s soul.
“You’re Na Sae-a. You’re my friend. And you’re the most difficult woman I know.”
Haneul said.
Sae-a laughed. This time it was a real laugh. A laugh mixed with tears, but it was laughter.
“But seriously, is Kang Mi-jun really your father?”
Haneul asked. Now with curiosity.
“Yeah.”
Sae-a answered.
“Damn… so what about JYA Entertainment?”
Haneul asked.
“I don’t know.”
Sae-a answered.
“And you?”
Haneul asked.
“I don’t know either. What I’m supposed to be. What’s changing. Mom said nothing’s different, but… everything feels different.”
Sae-a said.
Haneul squeezed Sae-a’s hand harder.
“Then think about it this way. You’re still you. And I’m not going anywhere. No matter who your father is or who your brother is. You’re just Na Sae-a.”
Haneul said.
Sae-a heard Haneul’s words. And she knew they were a lie. Everything had changed. Her blood had changed. Her identity had changed. And there was no undoing it.
But one thing hadn’t changed. Haneul was holding her hand. That hadn’t changed.
“I need to call Do-hyun.”
Sae-a said.
“Yeah. But first, I need to take you somewhere.”
Haneul said.
“Where?”
Sae-a asked.
“A café. You haven’t eaten, right? Look at your hands—they’re cold.”
Haneul said.
Sae-a looked at her hands. They really were cold. As if she weren’t alive. As if her body couldn’t catch up to her soul.
Haneul and Sae-a left Han River Park. Eight-thirty at night. Seoul’s night continued to flow. Somewhere, someone’s love began. Somewhere, someone’s love ended. But the Han River kept flowing. Like water that seemed unchanging while actually changing constantly.
The café was near Hongdae. A small café open even at nine at night. A place Haneul visited often. Had Sae-a been here before? She couldn’t remember. Recent memories were all blurred. As if someone had drowned her brain in water.
The barista recognized Haneul.
“Welcome, Haneul. The usual Americano?”
The barista asked.
“Yeah. And for her… what would you like to eat?”
Haneul asked Sae-a.
Sae-a looked at the menu. The letters trembled. As if her eyes couldn’t focus. As if she couldn’t perceive reality.
“Anything.”
Sae-a said.
“One cheesecake, please.”
Haneul told the barista.
They sat at a window table. Outside, Hongdae’s night street was visible. People coming out of clubs. Drunk young people. Someone’s laughter. Someone’s screams. Hongdae at night was completely different from Hongdae during the day. Like a different world altogether.
“Did you like Kang Ri-u?”
Haneul asked. Suddenly.
“What?”
Sae-a asked.
“Kang Ri-u. Did you really like him?”
Haneul asked.
Sae-a didn’t answer. She couldn’t tell what it was. Love? Dependence? The call of blood? A mixture of all of it?
“I’m not asking to be mean… I’m saying this for you. You burned yourself for him. You know that, right?”
Haneul said.
“Yeah.”
Sae-a answered. She knew it too. How much she had burned. How much she had given up.
“Stop now. You’re not his older sister. You’re just you. Got it?”
Haneul said.
Sae-a nodded. But it was a lie. Sae-a was already someone’s older sister. She couldn’t undo that. It was already mixed into her blood.
The coffee arrived. Warm steam rose from it. Sae-a watched that steam. As if her soul was rising like that too. As if she was slowly disappearing.
“I need to see Mom.”
Sae-a said.
“Yeah. But rest a bit first. Your condition right now is…”
Haneul said. But didn’t finish. As if there were no words to describe Sae-a’s condition.
“Condition is what?”
Sae-a asked.
“Dangerous.”
Haneul answered. Very quietly. As if saying these words was casting a curse.
Sae-a looked at her hands. Her fingers trembled. No, they always trembled. But the tremor was worse now. As if her fingers were trying to write her name. As if she had to prove her existence to the world.
The cheesecake arrived. Sae-a picked up the fork. Her hands trembled. The fork wavered. Sae-a put the fork down.
“Can’t eat?”
Haneul asked.
“Yeah.”
Sae-a answered.
Haneul picked up the fork. She brought it to Sae-a’s mouth. As if Sae-a were a baby. As if Sae-a couldn’t take care of herself.
Sae-a opened her mouth. The taste of cheesecake. Sweet and sour mixed. As if her mouth was waking up senses again.
“Good?”
Haneul asked.
“Yeah.”
Sae-a answered.
They sat in silence in the café. Outside, Hongdae’s night continued to flow. Someone’s laughter. Someone’s screams. Someone’s love and goodbye. But here, inside this small café, there were only Sae-a and Haneul.
The phone rang. Do-hyun. Sae-a answered this time.
“Noona! Where are you? Mom keeps looking for you!”
Do-hyun’s voice was crying. Actually crying.
“I’m coming. I’m on my way.”
Sae-a said.
“Okay. And… did Mom tell you about Dad?”
Do-hyun asked.
Sae-a didn’t answer. Instead, she hung up. Haneul looked at Sae-a. As if she knew Sae-a was about to break.
“Let’s go.”
Haneul said.
The two left the café. Nine-thirty at night. The road to the hospital. Haneul was holding Sae-a’s hand. As if confirming Sae-a wouldn’t run away.
And Sae-a thought. About who she really was. Was she Kang Mi-jun’s daughter? Kang Ri-u’s older sister? Or just Na Sae-a? But she couldn’t find an answer. Only the warmth of Haneul’s hand proved she was still alive.
When they arrived at the hospital, Do-hyun was standing in the lobby. A tired face. Frightened eyes. Sae-a’s younger brother. Her blood relative. But a completely different being from her.
“Noona!”
Do-hyun ran to Sae-a.
And in that moment, Sae-a realized who she was. She was Do-hyun’s older sister. Not Kang Mi-jun’s daughter. Not Kang Ri-u’s older sister. Just Do-hyun’s older sister.
That was the only truth.
END OF CHAPTER 176