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# Chapter 183: A Handshake in the Mirror
11:47 PM. Seo-ah released her mother’s hand.
The moment she let go, her mother’s arm fell onto the bed with a sound like something breaking—a small, wounded whimper. Seo-ah didn’t move. She knew that if she did, she would have to acknowledge what she had just done. She understood that releasing her mother’s hand was shattering something irreversible.
“Can I… meet Kang Mi-jun?”
The question was already decided before she asked it. As though someone had placed the words in her mouth. As though from this moment forward, it was no longer her choice, but destiny.
“No.”
Her mother’s voice was absolute. She had spent her last reserves of strength on that single word.
“Why?”
“If you meet that man, you’ll be finished. Completely.”
Her mother spoke, then closed her eyes. A signal that she could no longer bear to look at Seo-ah. A signal that she had said everything she could.
Seo-ah left the hospital room. Ha-neul was waiting in the corridor, phone in hand, but she looked up the moment Seo-ah emerged. Her expression was a question mark. But Seo-ah didn’t answer. She simply passed, heading toward the elevator.
“Seo-ah?”
Ha-neul called after her.
“I need to go out.”
Seo-ah spoke in English. As though Korean would shatter her. As though her mother tongue was too heavy to bear. As though it might crush her entirely.
Ha-neul followed her into the elevator. They stood side by side. In the mirrored walls, two faces were reflected. One wore an expression of worry. The other wore nothing at all—as though her face had already gone somewhere else. As though only her body remained.
When they stepped outside, the night air struck Seo-ah’s face. Once. Again. As though someone were trying to wake her. But Seo-ah was already awake. Too awake to ever close her eyes again.
“Where are you going?”
Ha-neul asked.
“I have to find Kang Ri-u.”
Seo-ah said it like she was repeating someone else’s words. Like her mouth was no longer following her commands.
“Now? In the middle of the night? Seo-ah, what are you doing?”
Ha-neul’s voice rose, colored with fear.
“My father is looking for me.”
Seo-ah said it the way a puppet speaks.
“What?”
“Kang Mi-jun. The chairman of JYA. My father. If my mother was right, he’s the one who sent Kang Ri-u to find me.”
Ha-neul stopped at a crosswalk near Hangang Park. The light was red. People streamed past them. 11:50 PM near Gangnam Station. The city was still alive, as though night hadn’t fallen at all. As though time had stopped.
“Are you listening to yourself? Kang Mi-jun is looking for you? Does that even make sense?”
“He’s been looking for me since I was born. Or more accurately—he’s been trying to erase me. Wishing I’d never existed at all.”
The light turned green. Ha-neul grabbed Seo-ah’s arm and pulled her across. As though she might get lost. As though she might wander anywhere.
“What about Kang Ri-u?”
“I don’t know. But he came to the hospital looking for my mother. That has to mean something.”
“Seo-ah, wait. Get in the car. Let’s talk about this properly.”
Seo-ah followed her. Ha-neul’s car was parked in a lot near Gangnam Station—an old Costanza, the back seat crammed with tattoo equipment. Needles. Ink. Mirrors. Designs. Like a small studio. Like a space for making permanent marks.
Once inside, Ha-neul didn’t start the engine. She simply sat, hands resting on the steering wheel.
“What did your mother tell you?”
Seo-ah told her everything. Kang Mi-jun. The secretary. The illegitimate child. The voice. The control. All of it.
Ha-neul said nothing until Seo-ah finished. She simply listened. As though absorbing music. As though watching what transformation Seo-ah’s words created.
“So what about Kang Ri-u?”
“I don’t know.”
“He said something to you at the hospital. You heard him. You lied.”
Seo-ah looked out the window. Midnight exactly. Gangnam’s lights still burned bright. Somewhere in that glow was JYA Entertainment. Somewhere was the room where her father sat.
“He said he had to take my mother. When I asked what that meant, he said my father was looking for her. Because she knows something.”
“Knows what?”
“I don’t know.”
Ha-neul exhaled deeply. A sigh that sounded like she was pulling something from inside her body.
“Do you know who Kang Ri-u is?”
“Kang Mi-jun’s son?”
“No. Kang Ri-u isn’t Kang Mi-jun’s son. He’s the older brother of another child Kang Mi-jun abandoned.”
Silence fell over the car. The kind of silence where time seemed to stop. Where words you’ve just heard don’t feel real.
“What?”
“Your father didn’t just have you. There was another woman. And she had a child. That’s Kang Ri-u. And he… he’s been so wounded by Kang Mi-jun that he’s not whole anymore.”
Seo-ah’s hands trembled. As though someone had sent electricity through her nerves. As though her body had stopped taking orders from her.
“How do you know this?”
“Tattoo artists hear a lot of secrets. Especially after people drink. Kang Ri-u came to my shop a few years ago, drunk. He asked me to tattoo his shoulder. That tattoo… it was covering something. A wound. And while I was working, he told me his story.”
“What did he say?”
“That his mother was Kang Mi-jun’s secretary. When he was born, Kang Mi-jun refused to acknowledge him. His mother couldn’t bear the wound. She killed herself.”
The air in the car froze. As though someone had turned the temperature to zero. As though Seo-ah’s blood was turning to ice.
“When?”
She barely heard her own voice.
“About ten years ago. After that, Kang Ri-u started looking for his father. At first he wanted revenge. But then… he wanted salvation. He wanted to see if that man would give the love to someone else that he never gave to his own son. So he found you. Your father’s other daughter.”
Seo-ah pulled out her phone. Her hands shook. But she searched. “Kang Ri-u tattoo.” Nothing came up. Instead she searched “Kang Mi-jun scandal.” Articles appeared. From ten years ago. “JYA Entertainment Chairman’s Secretary Commits Suicide.” The photo was pixelated. The name was “unnamed woman.”
“Is that Kang Ri-u’s mother?”
“I don’t know. But Kang Ri-u mentioned that timeframe. And the chairman in that article is definitely Kang Mi-jun.”
Seo-ah scrolled down. Her finger still trembling. Ten years ago. When Seo-ah was thirteen. She had been in Jeju then. With her mother and Do-hyun. Going to school. And in Seoul, someone was dying. Someone Seo-ah had never known. Someone who shared her father. Someone who had shared her voice—and had died because that voice couldn’t be controlled.
“Seo-ah. You can’t trust Kang Ri-u.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t love you. He’s trying to save his mother through you. You’re his salvation project. You’re not his mother. You need to be yourself.”
Seo-ah looked at Ha-neul’s face. It was full of concern. As though Ha-neul was trying to save her life. As though it was the only way.
“What about my father?”
“Kang Mi-jun?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t go to him. That man solves his fear through control. And you’ll become the thing he controls. You’ll become his tool.”
“Then what am I?”
“You’re you. Nothing more, nothing less. You’re not someone’s daughter. You’re not anyone’s salvation. You’re not anyone’s fear. You’re yourself.”
Seo-ah looked out the window again. 12:10 AM. Gangnam’s lights still burned. But none of them touched Seo-ah. As though she was already transparent. As though she had already disappeared.
“I have to go.”
“Where?”
“To Kang Ri-u.”
“Seo-ah!”
Ha-neul cried out, but Seo-ah was already getting out of the car. 12:15 AM. Near Gangnam Station. A taxi passed. Seo-ah raised her hand. It stopped.
“To Kang Ri-u’s place, please.”
“I don’t have an address.”
The driver said.
Seo-ah pulled out her phone. The last message thread with Kang Ri-u. The final address. Near Hangang Park. North side. An apartment.
She read the address aloud. The taxi pulled away. Behind them, Ha-neul must have run to her car. But the taxi had already slipped into traffic.
The night deepened. Following the Hangang northward. The lights of Gangbuk flowed past the window. Seo-ah looked at her own hands. Her fingers were still trembling. As though someone was plucking at her nerves.
“Is this the place, miss?”
The driver asked.
Seo-ah looked up. Kang Ri-u’s apartment building. It looked larger under the night lights. Like a mouth preparing to swallow her whole.
“Yes. This is it.”
She paid with a card. Her finger trembled as she pressed the button. Twice. Once more to confirm.
She entered the lobby. 12:30 AM. The security guard was dozing. Seo-ah walked toward the elevator. Kang Ri-u’s floor. Twenty-two. The elevator rose. Up, up, up. As though she was going to meet something. As though she was going to meet her own fate.
It reached the twenty-second floor. The doors opened. A hallway. At the end of it, Kang Ri-u’s door. Seo-ah walked. One step. Then another. As though someone else was moving her legs.
She pressed the doorbell. 12:35 AM.
No one answered.
She pressed again. Longer this time.
Still nothing.
She lowered her hand. What would come out if that door opened? Kang Ri-u’s face. What expression would it wear when he saw her? Joy. Fear. Guilt. Something else entirely.
“Who is it?”
A voice came through the speaker.
Seo-ah opened her mouth. But nothing came out. As though her throat was closed. As though her voice no longer belonged to her.
“Kang Ri-u?”
She barely managed to say it.
Silence stretched. Long and heavy.
“Who are you?”
The voice came again.
“I’m… I’m Na Seo-ah.”
She said it, and realized how strange it was to speak her own name. As though she was saying it for the first time. As though she was acknowledging her own existence for the first time.
The door opened. Quickly. Kang Ri-u stood there. 12:40 AM. His hands were trembling. Just like Seo-ah’s. As though they shared the same father’s hands.
“Why did you come?”
He asked.
There was no answer Seo-ah could give. Because she didn’t know why she had come. There was only compulsion. Only the desperate need to see this man. Only the strange inevitability of meeting her other half.
They stood facing each other. In the hallway at night. At the height of the twenty-second floor. Like mirrors reflecting mirrors. Like two people with identical wounds seeing their wounds for the first time.
And in that moment, Seo-ah realized her hand was reaching toward his. As though to shake hands. As though two broken things were touching for the first time.
Kang Ri-u didn’t take her hand. Instead, he pulled her into an embrace. As though he would lose her forever if he let go. As though this was the only way.
Seo-ah collapsed in his arms. 12:45 AM. From somewhere high in Gangnam. In the arms of her father’s son. Seo-ah finally began to cry.
And as those tears fell, she understood one thing.
What she had been burning. What she had wanted to burn away. It wasn’t music. It wasn’t dreams. It wasn’t love.
It was herself.