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# Chapter 182: Burning in Her Father’s Name
When Seo-ah opened her eyes, the fluorescent lights of the hospital room pierced through her pupils like daggers. The brightness felt sharp, merciless, irreversible. Her mother still lay in the bed above her. The transparent liquid from the IV drip fell one drop at a time. Drip. Drip. As if time itself was falling. As if life was being calculated drop by drop.
Seo-ah looked out the window. 11:25 PM. Seoul’s night glow still burned bright. The lights of Gangnam danced across someone’s body like fire. Some of those lights belonged to the JYA Entertainment building. She knew this. Near Sinnonhyeon Station. The 12-story building. The chairman’s office would be at the top. And in that room, Kang Mi-jun might be sitting. Seo-ah’s father. A name she’d lived with for twenty-three years without knowing. Kang Mi-jun.
“Seo-ah.”
Her mother called again. Her voice had grown even smaller. As if her throat was closing.
“What is it?”
Seo-ah asked without turning around. Looking at her reflection in the window instead. That face seemed like a stranger’s. Like someone she was seeing for the first time. Whose eyes were those. Whose mouth. Whose voice lived inside them.
“Come closer.”
Her mother said.
Seo-ah didn’t move. She was afraid to move. Because the moment she did, this would become real. Right now, she might still be in the realm of dreams. Right now, she might still be at a distance where she could refuse. But if she came closer, if her mother’s hand took hold of her, everything would be confirmed.
“Seo-ah. Please.”
Her mother said.
Seo-ah turned slowly. Then she walked to the bedside. One step. Then another. As if someone else was controlling her legs. As if someone other than herself was moving this body.
Her mother’s hand took Seo-ah’s. It was warm. Warmer than expected. Had her mother’s hand always been this warm. Seo-ah searched her memories. When she was small. In Jeju. When her mother held her hand and they walked the beach. Was the warmth the same then. No. It had been stronger then. It had held life. This warmth now felt like the warmth of something dying. Like heat left behind as something slipped away.
“Kang Mi-jun… he didn’t want a child he couldn’t control.”
Her mother said.
“Couldn’t control?”
Seo-ah asked.
“Control. He needed to control everything. His employees. His family. His emotions. But you… it was impossible from the start.”
Her mother said.
Seo-ah looked at her mother’s hands. The hands of a diver. The lines running through them. Everything those hands had endured underwater. Pressure. Cold. Time. Through those hands, Seo-ah had seen her own face. Without a mirror, she had seen herself reflected on her mother’s palms.
“I… couldn’t be controlled?”
Seo-ah asked.
“When you sing, you become someone else. Your voice moves people. You don’t intend it, but it happens. That frightened Mi-jun. The fact that something existed he couldn’t move. That a power existed he couldn’t predict.”
Her mother said.
Seo-ah’s breathing changed. It became shallow. As if someone had placed their hand on her chest. An uncontrollable power. An unintended influence. Wasn’t that what Seo-ah had always hidden. Wasn’t that what she’d always feared.
The hospital room door opened. Haneul poked her head in.
“Are you okay?”
Haneul asked.
Seo-ah didn’t answer. She neither let go of her mother’s hand nor held it tighter. She simply stood at that boundary.
“Just a moment.”
Seo-ah said.
Haneul closed the door again. But not completely. As if ready to enter at any moment. As if waiting for Seo-ah to raise her hand.
Seo-ah looked at her mother again.
“Is my father… still alive?”
Seo-ah asked.
“Yes.”
Her mother answered.
“And… does he know about me?”
“He won’t. I never told anyone. That was the only protection I could offer.”
Her mother said.
Seo-ah’s heart filled with something. Anger. Sadness. Or something worse. As if a fire had been lit inside her chest. And it was slowly growing.
“I signed a contract with JYA Entertainment though.”
Seo-ah said.
“Yes.”
Her mother answered. Her voice grew smaller still.
“Did my father… know?”
Seo-ah asked.
Silence came. Long and heavy. That silence was the answer itself.
“We were living in the same city? Signed with the same company?”
Seo-ah’s voice rose. For the first time. In this hospital room, her voice rose for the first time.
“I’m sorry.”
Her mother said.
“Sorry? You’re sorry?”
Seo-ah repeated. A sound close to laughter. But not laughter. It was something darker. Like the sound of breaking.
“I had nothing I could do. You needed food, Do-hyun needed school, and I… I could do nothing.”
Her mother said.
“So you sold me?”
Seo-ah said.
“No. I was trying to protect you. From afar.”
“From afar? It wasn’t just Jeju. My father was in Seoul, I came to Seoul, I signed with that company, and what was I supposed to become in the middle of all that?”
Seo-ah said.
The mother on the bed moved. As if someone was trying to pull her out. But the IV tube stopped her. That transparent tube kept her bound to the bed.
“Seo-ah, I…”
“That’s enough.”
Seo-ah said. Cold. Icy.
Seo-ah let go of her mother’s hand. At that moment, her mother’s hand fell as if plummeting. Onto the bed. Like a hand that had failed to grasp something.
Seo-ah stepped away from the bed. Slowly. But with certainty. As if she were walking toward someone’s opposite. As if she were now heading somewhere else.
When she opened the hospital room door, Haneul immediately came inside.
“Seo-ah, what happened? Your face…”
Haneul said.
“I’m not okay.”
Seo-ah said.
“What happened? What did your mom say?”
Haneul asked.
Seo-ah walked toward the elevator. Without speaking. Haneul followed. The hospital corridor was bright even at night. That brightness felt like someone’s malice. Like a brightness that wouldn’t let her hide.
Inside the elevator, Haneul asked again.
“Please tell me. What happened.”
“My father’s name is Kang Mi-jun.”
Seo-ah said.
Haneul’s face went pale. As if someone were draining the blood from it.
“What? Kang Mi-jun? Of JYA?”
Haneul asked.
“Yes.”
Seo-ah answered.
“So you…”
Haneul stopped speaking. But the unspoken words sounded louder. So you signed with your father’s company. So you sold yourself to the company your father runs. So you…
The elevator reached the first floor. The doors opened. The hospital lobby came into view. 11:40 PM. The hospital was still full of people. Patients. Guardians. Medical staff. Everyone doing their work. Carrying their pain. Carrying their secrets.
Seo-ah walked into the lobby. Haneul followed.
“Where are you going?”
Haneul asked.
“I need to see my father.”
Seo-ah said.
“Now? At 11:40 PM?”
Haneul asked.
“Yes. It feels right now.”
Seo-ah said.
It was a lie. Now wasn’t right. No time was right. But Seo-ah had to move. If she didn’t, she felt she would explode. If she didn’t, the fire inside her would go out. And Seo-ah needed that fire now. Because it was the only thing moving her.
Seo-ah and Haneul left the hospital. The Seoul night was still cold. The end of November. Winter was coming. And winter was coming inside Seo-ah’s heart too. But alongside it, there was also fire. Small but growing. Like a match. Like fire just before it blazes.
They took a taxi. The driver was an older man.
“Near Sinnonhyeon Station, please.”
Seo-ah said.
“JYA Entertainment?”
The driver asked.
Seo-ah didn’t answer. That silence was her answer.
The taxi drove along Gangbyeon-bukro. 11:45 PM. The Han River was black. Only the lights above it existed. Seo-ah looked at those lights. Someone was sleeping under those lights. Someone was laughing under those lights. Someone was working under those lights. And someone—Kang Mi-jun—might be sitting in his office right now.
Haneul grabbed Seo-ah’s arm.
“What are you doing? Really?”
Haneul asked.
“I don’t know.”
Seo-ah said. It was the truth. She really didn’t know what she was doing. But she was moving. As if someone was pushing her. As if the fire inside her was pushing her.
“What will you do when you meet him?”
Haneul asked.
“I don’t know. Just… I need to see him.”
Seo-ah said.
“And?”
“And… I need to tell him something.”
Seo-ah said.
“Tell him what?”
“I don’t know. But there’s definitely something.”
Seo-ah said.
The taxi passed Sinnonhyeon Station. The JYA Entertainment building came into view. Even at night, some of the building’s lights were on. The chairman’s office perhaps. Or someone’s office working late. Seo-ah couldn’t tell. But she thought that Kang Mi-jun might be inside that building. Her father. The father who didn’t know her name. The father who feared her.
“Can you drop me here?”
Seo-ah said to the driver.
“Here?”
The driver asked.
“Yes. Here.”
Seo-ah said.
The taxi stopped. The fare was 23,800 won. Seo-ah handed over 30,000 won.
“Keep the change.”
Seo-ah said.
Seo-ah and Haneul got out of the taxi. 11:55 PM. The night view of Sinnonhyeon. Buildings were turning off their lights one by one. But JYA Entertainment still glowed.
Haneul grabbed Seo-ah’s arm. More firmly.
“Seo-ah. Really. Is this right? What are you doing?”
Haneul asked.
Seo-ah looked at the building. The 12th floor. The chairman’s office on that floor. Kang Mi-jun would be there. Or he wouldn’t. Either way, it didn’t matter. Because Seo-ah had decided not to be afraid anymore. She had decided not to stay silent anymore.
“I need to see my father.”
Seo-ah said.
“And?”
Haneul asked.
“And… I need to show him what my voice is.”
Seo-ah said.
Seo-ah walked toward the building’s entrance. The automatic doors opened. She walked inside. The lobby was bright even at night. Cleaning staff were mopping the floor. They saw Seo-ah. A woman in worn clothes. A woman appearing at this late hour. They were suspicious of her. But no one stopped her.
The elevator opened.
Seo-ah entered.
Haneul entered too.
Floor 12.
Seo-ah pressed the button.
And waited.
As the elevator rose, Seo-ah thought. What would her father do. Would he recognize her. Or not. Did it matter. Was it important. Nothing seemed to matter. Only movement mattered. Only this moment mattered. Only where her voice was going mattered.
The elevator arrived at the 12th floor.
The doors opened.
Seo-ah stepped out.
Haneul followed.
And Seo-ah stood before the chairman’s office door.
Inside that door, someone was there.
Her father.
Kang Mi-jun.
Seo-ah’s hand rose.
And she knocked.
Knock. Knock. Knock.