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# Chapter 32: Before It Becomes a Song
11:47 PM. Seo-ah’s fingers were still moving.
The laptop screen held sentences that meant nothing. “Someone sacrifices something to get what they want in this world. But no one knows if that exchange is fair.” The next sentence had been deleted four times. Delete, rewrite, delete again. As if her own thoughts were unreliable.
Jangpan jumped onto Seo-ah’s lap. The cat sought warmth. Seo-ah touched its back. Dust clung to the fur. The gosiwon’s air was always thick with dust—dust from nowhere, floating, settling, rising again.
“Why do you need to sleep?”
Seo-ah asked the cat. The cat closed its eyes instead of answering. Was living really that simple? Eat, sleep, find warmth. Was that all.
Her phone rang. 11:50 PM. It wasn’t a message notification. A call. The screen showed “Do-hyun.” Her brother wouldn’t call this close to midnight. Seo-ah answered immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
“Noona… I’m sorry.”
Do-hyun’s voice was small. The kind of voice that suppressed something inside. Seo-ah set the cat down and stood up abruptly.
“Sorry for what? What happened? Mom?”
“Mom’s sleeping. I went to the bathroom… and there was a text on your phone from Gangnam. The screen was on.”
Seo-ah’s body went rigid. She hadn’t given Do-hyun her phone, but the boy had always felt comfortable looking at it. They lived in the same small room. They shared the same screen, the same life.
“What did it say?”
“’Let’s meet tomorrow evening at the same time. Don’t tell anyone, especially not friends like Haneul. It’s to protect you.’ Something like that. Who is that person? And why can’t I see Haneul? Isn’t she your friend?”
Seo-ah didn’t answer. Her throat tightened. Do-hyun kept talking.
“Noona, I’m sorry. Really sorry… but that person doesn’t seem good. I have a feeling, you know? Reading that text felt… creepy. And your voice lately is weird. Like you’re sleepwalking.”
“It’s fine. You should sleep.”
“You broke your promise. You said you’d eat properly.”
There was something final in Do-hyun’s voice. As if he couldn’t bear this conversation anymore. Seo-ah felt it—her lie had touched a nerve in the child.
“I’m sorry. Really. I’ll call tomorrow. Go to sleep.”
“Noona…”
“Yeah?”
Silence flowed through the line. Phone silence was a different kind of music. Frequency, subtle noise, infinite distance between.
“I love you.”
Do-hyun said it with a weight that didn’t match his age.
Seo-ah answered with a voice that seemed to break.
“Love you too.”
After hanging up, Seo-ah went to the bathroom. The mirror was old. Black mold stained its edges. The face reflected back was unfamiliar. When had she become so thin? When had her eyes grown so large? Or had it always been this way, and she just hadn’t noticed.
Seo-ah washed her face with cold water. She rubbed at the dark marks with her fingers, but they wouldn’t come off. They weren’t stains—they were a color that had seeped into her skin itself. Like her identity.
When she returned to her room, it was 12:08 AM. Two hours remained before the convenience store shift. Seo-ah lay on the bed. Jangpan was still warm. She could hear the cat’s heartbeat. Regular, trusting, perfect.
Could I live like this cat? Just warm, eating when hungry, sleeping when tired.
Seo-ah closed her eyes.
By 2 AM, the convenience store grew quiet. From 2 to 4 AM, there were almost no customers. The people who came during those hours were mostly those staying awake intentionally. Students cramming for exams, office workers on night shifts, people who chose the night rather than fled from it. They were quiet. No one spoke. They simply bought and left.
Seo-ah stood behind the counter, barcode scanner in hand. It weighed almost nothing, yet the longer she held it, the heavier it became. Eight hours. Every day, eight hours. Fifty-six hours a week. Two hundred forty hours a month. How long could her fingers bear this weight.
2:37 AM. A man came in. Around thirty, maybe. Gray suit, loosened tie. He smelled of alcohol. He wandered the shelves without picking anything. Just walked. Five minutes. Ten. At fifteen minutes, he came to the register.
“Cigarettes.”
Seo-ah took them out. She didn’t ask which kind. Usually customers told her first. This man didn’t. She presented each brand she had. On the third one, he pointed.
“That one.”
She scanned it. Light flashed. Peeeeep. The sound broke the night’s silence.
“How long have you worked here?”
The man asked. Seo-ah didn’t answer. The rule was to avoid unnecessary customer conversation. But he continued.
“Do the math. What’s the hourly wage? Ah, you don’t want to answer that? Then let me ask something else. Are you happy right now?”
Seo-ah’s hands froze. The transaction was incomplete. The man’s eyes held hers. Drunk eyes, but with something sincere in them.
“That’ll be 5,900 won.”
Seo-ah said. He handed over a credit card. She swiped it. Light blinked. Transaction complete. Everything happened in an instant.
“You seem like someone who sings.”
The man said again. Seo-ah looked up. This was strange. How would a stranger know her.
“I don’t.”
“You don’t? Then I made a mistake. Sorry. When I look at you, something about you feels like a singer. But if you’re not her, it must be someone else. Sorry. Never mind the drunk guy. Take care.”
The man took his cigarettes and left. His suited back disappeared into the night’s street.
Seo-ah leaned against the counter. Her hands were trembling. For no reason. As if a stranger had recognized her. But that was impossible. That didn’t happen. Just the rambling of a drunk.
3:15 AM, Seo-ah’s phone buzzed. A KakaoTalk message. From Haneul.
Haneul (3:15 AM)
You still haven’t come? What are you doing? This is so frustrating. Let me just say it. That Gangnam guy—he doesn’t seem bad, but he’s not good either. There’s something possessive about how he treats you. And you don’t realize it. Or maybe you do but you’re accepting it? I don’t know anymore.
Seo-ah held her breath reading this. Kang Ri-u’s words echoed: Don’t see anyone, especially not a friend like Haneul. Why did he say that? Protection from what.
She wanted to reply. But her fingers wouldn’t move. As if someone was holding her hand. Or as if she was holding her own hand back.
Haneul (3:22 AM)
You’re not answering? Really. Do something for me. Say “Haneul, it’s okay” or “I’m doing fine.” Anything. Please.
Seo-ah put the phone down. Waited for the screen to go dark. Then stood there behind the counter. The empty night. Fluorescent light. Her shadow.
4:47 AM, a message from Kang Ri-u came.
Kang Ri-u (4:47 AM)
Let’s meet tomorrow evening. Same time. I have something important to tell you.
Seo-ah marked it as read. She didn’t reply. There was nothing left to say. Everything seemed already said. She simply didn’t want to hear it.
5:00 AM sharp. The morning shift worker came in. An early-thirties woman who always smiled. She always said “thanks for working hard.” Today was no different.
“How was last night?”
“Normal.”
“Your fingers okay? They keep getting darker.”
Seo-ah looked at her fingers. The dark marks remained. Unfading. Something she’d have to live with.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
She left the store at 5:12 AM. The morning air was cold. Late November cold was already winter cold. Seo-ah wore thin clothes. She didn’t know why she never wore thick coats even in winter. Did she want to feel the cold? Or did she believe in some necessity that she had to freeze.
On the way to Hapjeong Station, Seo-ah took a detour to the Han River. As dawn broke, joggers appeared. They wore vests with red lights. Moving traffic signals. Seo-ah leaned against the river’s railing.
The water still flowed. Day or night made no difference. Season made no difference. As if it was water’s destiny. Seo-ah spread her fingers. Five fingers of different lengths. Did Mom’s fingers look like this? The fingers of a haenyeo who spent so much time underwater. Or were they smaller.
Mom, I’m sorry. I couldn’t properly inherit what you gave me.
Words came from Seo-ah’s mouth. In the dawn when no one was listening. Only the Han River heard.
A female jogger passed. She slowed down seeing Seo-ah. As if a stranger looked dangerous. But she soon sped up again. Reclaiming her rhythm.
Seo-ah stood again. She had to go back to the gosiwon. Brief sleep. Afternoon work. Evening with Kang Ri-u. Night at the convenience store. Dawn with herself. Everything would repeat.
6:12 AM, Seo-ah arrived at the gosiwon. When she entered, Jangpan was still warm. Seo-ah held the cat. And whispered.
“Who took my voice?”
There was no answer. Only the cat’s heartbeat reached her ears.
Seo-ah lay down. Her goal was exactly one hour of sleep. From 6:12 to 7:12. Was there time for dreams in between? Or was she already dreaming while awake.
As she closed her eyes, Seo-ah thought about the definition of “protection” that Kang Ri-u had mentioned. How was protecting someone different from owning them. Where was the boundary between loving and controlling.
Without finishing that thought, Seo-ah fell asleep. 6:47 AM. Brief sleep without dreams. As if she had no right to dream.
2:00 PM. Seo-ah opened her eyes. She didn’t get up. She stared at the ceiling. Water stains marked it. They were there yesterday. They’d be there tomorrow. This room would continue to decay. So would she.
She turned on her phone. Seven messages. Three from Do-hyun, two from Haneul, one from Kang Ri-u. And one from an unknown number.
Unknown Number (9:33 AM)
Hello. This is Producer Park In-cheol. I work at JYA Entertainment. There’s been progress on the contract matter from before. Can you come to the office this afternoon at 4 PM? Please confirm.
Seo-ah’s heart raced. Park In-cheol. JYA’s producer. The man who had first offered her the contract. Why was he contacting her now. She hadn’t submitted the contract yet.
Seo-ah messaged Kang Ri-u.
Seo-ah (2:03 PM)
Producer Park In-cheol contacted me. He wants me at JYA this afternoon at 4. What’s going on?
Kang Ri-u’s reply came immediately.
Kang Ri-u (2:03 PM)
Just go. I have something to do.
Reading this, Seo-ah felt something was missing. An explanation. Guidance. Or protection.
Seo-ah (2:04 PM)
I’m scared.
Kang Ri-u (2:04 PM)
I’m with you. Always.
But that was a lie. Kang Ri-u wasn’t always with her. He only appeared when necessary. And he alone decided that necessity. Seo-ah understood this now.
3:15 PM. Seo-ah showered. Hot water warmed her body. She had never felt warmth before, yet this heat felt like feeling it for the first time. She spread her hand over the water. Water passed through her fingers. The dark marks remained.
When she dressed and looked in the mirror, a stranger stood there. Black eyes. Thin neck. Dark marks on her hands. Who was she.
3:45 PM. Seo-ah left the house. She took the subway to Gangnam. The same route. The same depth. But today the subway felt deeper. As if she was descending below the surface. Descending to a depth from which she couldn’t return.