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# Chapter 185: The Tattoo Artist’s Silence
Hayeul’s fingers lifted from the steering wheel as if she’d touched something burning hot. Her hand found the ignition button again, and the engine roared to life in the underground parking garage. Sea didn’t move. She needed time to process what she’d just heard. Kang Riou. Her half-brother. Kang Mijun’s son. And Hayeul had known about all of this. For how long? From the beginning? Or from some point onward?
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Sea asked. That question wasn’t about this moment alone. It encompassed all their conversations over the past few months, all the silences, all of Hayeul’s worried glances.
Hayeul slowly reversed the car, carefully navigating between the pillars of the garage.
“I saw your state. You were already falling apart. Because of that man, because of your father, because of your mother. If I added something more on top of that, you would completely…”
Hayeul trailed off. The car emerged from the garage onto street level. The nighttime streets near Gangnam Station. Still illuminated. Convenience stores, bars, karaoke rooms, buses. Everything brightening the night. As if Seoul were a city without darkness. As if it refused to acknowledge the shadows.
“Completely what?”
Sea asked.
“Disappear.”
Hayeul answered. There was past tense in that word. Would disappear. Or rather, more precisely: seemed like she would. The fear of incompleteness. A preventive decision.
“I’ve already disappeared.”
Sea said. It wasn’t self-deprecation. It was a declaration. As if someone else was repeating words that came from her own mouth. As if the person called Sea had already been replaced by something else.
Hayeul’s hand manipulated the gearshift. The car entered the Gangnam streets. Traffic lights passed. Then more traffic lights. Sea was counting the lights outside the window. How many had passed her by? A hundred? A thousand? Too many to count, yet too important not to.
“Kang Riou was looking for you.”
Hayeul said.
Sea turned her head.
“Yeah. When you were in the hospital. That guy went everywhere looking for you. Your apartment, the convenience store where you worked, your friends. He found them all.”
Hayeul continued.
“What did he say?”
“What else would he say besides that he was looking for you? His hands were shaking, his face was pale, his eyes kept wavering. From what I could see, that man was almost…”
Hayeul stopped speaking.
“Almost what?”
“Almost losing his mind.”
Hayeul said.
Sea’s hand found the door handle. As if she were preparing to get out. But she didn’t. She just rested her hand there. What would begin if she opened that door? What would end?
“What exactly did Mom say? Tell me precisely.”
Sea asked.
“What do you mean exactly? Everything your mom says comes in fragments anyway. But what you heard was right. That Kang Mijun is your father, and that he’s trying to find you. And that Kang Riou is helping him.”
Hayeul said.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is Kang Mijun looking for me? Why is Kang Riou looking for me? Why any of it?”
Sea asked.
Hayeul didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled the car to the side. A red-light district near the Gangnam Station entrance. Sexual neon signs illuminated the night sky. It was different from other parts of Seoul. The night there was hotter, more humid, more explicit.
“Do you really want to meet Kang Riou?”
Hayeul asked. As if this were the final question. As if everything would be decided by her answer.
Sea didn’t respond. Instead, she lifted her own hand again. Her fingers were still trembling. But now she couldn’t tell if that trembling came from fear or anger. Or perhaps they were the same thing.
“Where is he now?”
Sea asked.
“I don’t know. The last time I saw him was three days ago when you were in the hospital. After that, he stopped contacting me.”
Hayeul said.
Sea took out her phone. The screen lit up. Battery at thirteen percent. There were several missed calls. Not from Kang Riou. From Dohyun. Three days ago, five days ago, a week ago. The intervals between calls grew longer over time. As if Dohyun were giving up. As if her brother had realized she wasn’t coming back.
“Dohyun…”
Sea murmured.
“Yeah, your brother kept looking for you. He asked me where you were. I told him I didn’t know. But did you hear his voice? He sounded completely exhausted.”
Hayeul said.
Sea wanted to call Dohyun. But her fingers wouldn’t move. As if someone had severed her nerves. As if she could no longer control her own body.
“What are you going to do now?”
Hayeul asked again.
Sea put her phone down. The screen went dark. Then lit up again. Automatically. As if something other than Sea were controlling this device.
“Can you give me a new tattoo?”
Sea suddenly asked.
“What?”
Hayeul reacted.
“A tattoo. Now. At this hour.”
Sea said.
“Sea, are you in your right mind? It’s one-thirty in the morning. And it’s only been a few hours since you left the hospital. Your mom is admitted there. You…”
Hayeul spoke, but then she looked into Sea’s eyes. There was no room for negotiation in that gaze. As if the person called Sea had already gone somewhere else. As if this body were merely a machine obeying her commands.
“What do you want?”
Hayeul asked. Her voice carried surrender.
“Mom’s name. On my forearm. Here.”
Sea brushed her left forearm.
“Sea…”
“Please.”
Sea said.
Hayeul started the engine. The car moved again. Away from Gangnam, heading toward Hongdae. Hayeul’s tattoo shop. A small space in a semi-basement. It was there that Sea had first admitted to everything. That her mother had been a haenyeo. That her father had died. That she should never have been born. All of it had spilled from Sea’s lips in that place.
The car entered a narrow alley in Hongdae. It was past one in the morning, yet there were still some drunk people wandering the streets. Young people. College students. People who still believed they had futures. Watching them, Sea realized how old she had become. Not twenty-four, but a hundred. Or more precisely, like a corpse still moving, already dead but not yet still.
Hayeul’s shop was dark. The door was closed. But Hayeul had a key. She turned it, the door opened, and fluorescent lights flickered on. That brightness stung Sea’s eyes. But this time it didn’t hurt. As if she’d already reached a place beyond pain.
“Sit here.”
Hayeul pointed to a chair. It was the same chair Sea had sat in before. When she got her first tattoo. A small heart shape. Vivid red. That had been six months ago. Sea now understood how long six months was. As long as eternity. As brief as a single moment.
Sea sat. She extended her forearm. Hayeul sprayed hand sanitizer. That smell. Alcohol. Medical-grade. Sea closed her eyes.
“What’s your mother’s name?”
Hayeul asked.
“Na Yunhee.”
Sea answered.
Hayeul wrote Na Yunhee’s name on paper by hand. Korean characters. Na Yunhee. Those letters danced on the paper. As if alive. As if the name itself possessed life force.
“This is permanent. You understand that, right?”
Hayeul said.
“Yes.”
Sea answered.
The needle moved. The first dot. Pain arrived. But it didn’t seem to come from outside—it seemed to push outward from within. As if everything accumulated inside her body were trying to burst through this needle hole. As if the person called Sea were slowly escaping.
“Sea.”
Hayeul said.
“What?”
Sea opened her eyes and asked.
“You’re going to regret this. By morning.”
Hayeul said.
“I know.”
Sea answered. And closed her eyes again.
The needle continued to move. Na. Yun. Hee. One by one. Hayeul’s hands were an artist’s hands. Precise. As if this were salvation itself. As if through this, something could be restored.
“What did your mom say? What did she tell you?”
Hayeul asked while tattooing.
Sea opened her mouth. But no words came out. Only saliva. As if she’d already lost the ability to speak.
“That Kang Mijun was trying to control you?”
Hayeul asked again.
“He couldn’t control me. Because of me.”
Sea finally spoke. Her voice was small. As if her vocal cords were already worn.
“You? He couldn’t control you?”
“My voice. My father was afraid of it.”
Sea said.
Hayeul’s hand stopped. The needle stayed embedded in Sea’s forearm.
“Sea, what are you saying?”
Hayeul asked.
“People change when I sing. Something shifts when they hear my words. That’s why my father…”
Sea spoke.
Hayeul moved the needle again. But more slowly this time. As if brushing across Sea. As if transferring Sea onto paper.
“So you stopped singing.”
Hayeul declared. Not a question, but a statement. It was fact. From the moment Sea decided to stop singing. From the moment she chose to suppress her voice. Everything had been determined.
“Yeah.”
Sea answered.
“And now Kang Mijun is trying to find you?”
Hayeul asked again.
“Probably.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But Kang Riou… that man seems to know something. Mom said he came to the hospital looking for her. That must mean…”
Sea trailed off.
“Mean what?”
“Something.”
Sea said.
The tattoo continued. Na Yunhee. With each movement of her finger, black ink embedded itself into Sea’s flesh. Permanent marking. An irreversible choice. Sea liked this pain. Because it was pain she’d chosen. Not pain given by someone else. Not pain forced upon her.
“What will you do when this is finished?”
Hayeul asked.
Sea didn’t answer. Because she didn’t know. What would come next. What would be the next breath. Who she was.
Time continued to flow. From one in the morning to two. From two to three. The Hongdae alley grew quieter. The drunk people disappeared, leaving only the convenience store’s fluorescent light. Under that light, Sea watched her arm slowly transform. Na Yunhee. Mom’s name. Now permanently etched into her flesh.
“It’s done.”
Hayeul finally said.
Sea lifted her arm. She looked in the mirror. Black letters. Clear, painful, perfect.
“Who do you want to become?”
Hayeul asked.
Sea looked at her own face in the mirror. An unfamiliar face. Someone else’s face. Or rather, a face she’d always known. The face she’d always tried to avoid.
“I don’t know.”
Sea said.
“Are you going to meet Kang Riou?”
Hayeul asked again.
Sea didn’t answer. She only touched the tattoo on her forearm. That sensation. New skin. Permanent scar. A wound she’d chosen. A wound she’d inflicted on herself.
“Sea.”
Hayeul called her name.
Sea looked at Hayeul. The tattoo artist’s eyes. In them were worry and exhaustion. But behind that was something else. Was it love? Was it responsibility? Or were they the same thing?
“Thank you.”
Sea said.
“For what?”
“Everything.”
Sea said.
And she got in the car. Hayeul’s Corsta. Seoul at 3:47 AM. A city still lit up. A city where someone was still awake, someone was still moving, someone was still burning.
Hayeul started the engine.
“Where to?”
Hayeul asked.
Sea looked out the window. Toward Gangnam. That’s where the JYA Entertainment building was. Where Kang Mijun was. And possibly Kang Riou too.
“Kang Riou’s place.”
Sea said.
“Sea…”
“Can you take me?”
Sea asked.
Hayeul didn’t answer. She simply turned the car toward Gangnam. Pre-dawn Gangnam. Luxury apartments. Tall buildings. A place where Sea was never meant to be born. A place she could never live. But now she was heading there.
And on her forearm, Mom’s name was permanently etched.
Na Yunhee.
That was Sea’s only truth.
# The Name Na Yunhee
## Part One: Questions
“What are you thinking about?”
Hayeul’s voice overlapped with the sound of the tattoo needle piercing skin. Click. Click. Click. A rhythm both regular and irregular. Like a heartbeat. Or like time passing.
Sea didn’t answer. Because she didn’t know. What came next. What the next breath would be. What the next heartbeat would be. And most importantly, who she was.
She watched the black lines slowly taking shape on her forearm. Hayeul’s fingers moved with precision. This man truly had talent. An artist’s talent. The fine vibrations created by the tattoo gun traveled down to her bones. It was both pain and pleasure. Like her body was coming back to life.
“No thoughts.”
Sea lied.
There had to be thoughts. Her mind was a storm. Kang Riou. Kang Mijun. Mom. And everything now being permanently etched onto her forearm. It all tangled together. Like thread. The more you tried to untangle it, the more knotted it became.
Hayeul continued working, either not noticing or not acknowledging Sea’s lie. Her concentration was remarkable. As if everything else in the world had disappeared. As if nothing existed except this moment, this needle, this skin, these letters.
“The pain?”
“It’s fine.”
Sea lied again. There was pain. Definitely. But it wasn’t just physical pain. It came from somewhere deeper. From the depths of her heart. From somewhere like her soul.
Hayeul seemed to recognize that lie too. But she said nothing. She just continued working. Click. Click. Click. That sound embedded itself in Sea’s ears.
## Part Two: The Flow of Time
One in the morning.
The clock outside the convenience store indicated it. How much time had passed since Sea and Hayeul arrived? She couldn’t say exactly. Time flowed strangely. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow. As if the world didn’t move at a constant speed.
Two in the morning.
The Hongdae alley was growing quieter. Just an hour ago, drunk people had filled the streets. Singing people, laughing people, fighting people. Every expression of life was visible on the streets. But now most of them had disappeared. Into clubs, back to their lodgings, or simply vanished somewhere.
Only the convenience store’s fluorescent light remained. Under that cold light, Sea looked at her arm.
The letters were becoming clearer. Individual strokes combining into a single word. Na. Yun. Hee.
Mom’s name. Na Yunhee.
Sea couldn’t explain what she felt reading that name. Sadness? No. Anger? That didn’t seem right either. Then what? It felt like she was becoming someone else. Like her body was becoming someone else’s.
Mom’s name. Now permanently etched into her flesh.
Sea’s heart began to race. Her pulse audible at her neck. Her breathing grew shallow. Her chest felt hollow. Like falling into a bottomless pit.
Hayeul seemed to sense it. She paused briefly.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Sea lied again.
She wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. Not heading toward Kang Riou. Not etching her mother’s name on her arm. And most of all, not the fact that she was doing all of this.
Hayeul resumed her work. The needle continued piercing the skin. Deeper. More permanent.
Three in the morning.
The Hongdae alley was nearly silent now. There was barely anyone on the streets anymore. Only the occasional taxi passed. Only the occasional footstep was heard. The world had fallen asleep. Or the world had died. Either way.
Only the convenience store’s light remained as evidence of life on this street. And under that light, Sea watched her arm slowly transform. Black lines combining into letters, letters combining into a name, the name combining into a destiny.
Na Yunhee.
Mom’s name. Mom’s existence. Now a part of her.
Sea watched her own transformation. As if she were becoming someone else. As if her skin was becoming someone else’s skin.
## Part Three: End and Beginning
“It’s done.”
Hayeul finally said. There was exhaustion in her voice. But also achievement. Like an artist completing a long work.
The needle separated from the skin. Sea exhaled deeply. That too was a lie. She was still breathless. Her chest still felt hollow.
Sea slowly lifted her arm. Toward the mirror. A small mirror hung in the studio. Through it, she saw her arm.
Black letters. Clear, painful, perfect. Truly beautiful. Like a work of art. Like she had become a living artwork.
Na Yunhee.
Each time she read it, something changed. Her identity shifted slightly. As if she were becoming someone else right now.
“Who do you want to become?”
Hayeul asked. The question seemed simple but was very complex. Who do you want to become? That was different from who can you become? Who can you become is determined by external conditions, but who do you want to become is your choice. And choice brings responsibility.
Sea looked at her own face in the mirror.
It was an unfamiliar face. It looked like someone else’s face. The eyes in that face no longer seemed to be her eyes. The mouth in that face no longer seemed to be her mouth.
No. More precisely, it was a face she already knew. The face she’d always tried to avoid. The face she’d never wanted to see in mirrors. Her true face.
It was frightening. Confronting your true self was frightening. Knowing exactly who you are was frightening. Because it brought responsibility.
“I don’t know.”
Sea said. That too was a lie. Sea knew. Who she wanted to become. But she couldn’t say it. Not yet.
“Are you going to meet Kang Riou?”
Hayeul asked again. Worry was in that question. As if knowing Sea was about to enter danger.
Sea didn’t answer. She only touched the tattoo on her forearm. How strange that sensation was. New skin. Permanent scar. A wound she’d chosen. A wound she’d inflicted on herself.
Her finger traced over the letters. Following each stroke. As if reading it. As if it were trying to speak to her.
“Sea.”
Hayeul called her name. What was in that voice? A warning? Worry? Or understanding?
Sea looked at Hayeul. The tattoo artist’s eyes. In them was exhaustion. Exhaustion from the work she’d just completed. But behind that was something else. Was it love? Was it responsibility? Or were they the same thing?
“Thank you.”
Sea said.
“For what?”
Hayeul asked. Genuine curiosity in that question.
“Everything.”
Sea said.
This man had done so much for her. He’d etched her mother’s name onto her arm, respected her choices, stood by her side. For that alone, she was grateful. For that alone, it was enough.
## Part Four: The City at Dawn
And Sea got in the car. Hayeul’s Corsta. An old black car. A car that had endured much.
Seoul at 3:47 AM. The clock indicated it. The darkest hour of the day. The sun hadn’t risen, wasn’t about to rise. Time seemed frozen.
But the city was still alive. A city still lit up. Even the luxury buildings in Gangnam had their lights on. Somewhere, someone was still awake. Someone working through the night. Someone preparing for an early morning jog. Someone keeping the lights on, still awake. And someone was burning. Internally, externally, mentally, physically.
Hayeul started the car. The engine sound broke the night’s silence. Like a blade cutting through air.
“Where to?”
Hayeul asked. The question was simple, but what it meant was not. Where you go is the same as who you’ll become.
Sea looked out the window. Seoul at night. Cars passed. Footsteps were heard. The city’s life was felt.
Toward Gangnam. That’s where the JYA Entertainment building was. That’s where Kang Mijun was. And probably Kang Riou too. Or if not now, soon.
“Kang Riou’s place.”
Sea said. Something changed when those words left her mouth. Her breathing changed. Her heartbeat changed. Everything about her changed.
“Sea…”
Hayeul called her name. There was a warning in that voice. As if knowing Sea was about to step onto a dangerous path.
“Can you take me?”
Sea asked. It wasn’t really a question. It was a desperate plea.
Hayeul didn’t answer. She simply turned the car toward Gangnam. The engine sound intensified. The car began moving slowly. It left the street, entered the main road. And headed toward Gangnam.
Pre-dawn Gangnam. Luxury apartments. Tall buildings. A place where Sea was never meant to be born. A place she couldn’t live. A place she couldn’t go. Like a different world. Like a place where different people lived.
But now Sea was heading there. With her mother’s name etched on her forearm. With her choices. With her resolve.
The car was quiet. The radio wasn’t on. Neither spoke. Only the engine sound and the tire cutting through asphalt could be heard. The rhythm they created. The music they made.
The Seoul landscape passing outside the window. The night Seoul was completely different from the day Seoul. Things invisible in daylight became visible at night. Things inaudible during the day became audible at night. As if the city had a different face.
## Part Five: The Permanent Choice
And on her forearm was permanently etched her mother’s name.
Na Yunhee.
What did it mean to see that? What did it mean to have your mother’s name etched on your arm?
It was a choice. A choice made at the cost of all other choices. A choice that explicitly declared her identity. As if shouting to the world: “I am Na Yunhee’s daughter. I can’t be anything else. I can’t live any other way.”
Was that freedom? Or was it a prison?
Perhaps it was both. Perhaps freedom and prison were the same thing. Perhaps any choice was both freedom and prison. Because choosing meant abandoning all other possibilities.
Sea looked at her arm again. The black letters on it. A permanent mark. An irreversible choice.
“What will I say when I meet Kang Riou?”
Sea suddenly asked.
Hayeul thought for a moment. During that time, the car continued forward. A night road. An almost empty road. Like the end of the world.
“Whatever you think.”