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# Chapter 42: The Owner of the Voice
The fluorescent lights of the convenience store hummed on, unchanged. The buzzing sound remained the same. Seo-ah leaned against the counter, and Kang Ri-u still held his phone. On the screen was Park So-jin. Park So-jin singing. Park So-jin singing Seo-ah’s song.
Seo-ah had seen that video before. On YouTube. 3.4 million views. 180,000 likes. Thousands of comments. Everyone was praising Park So-jin. “This song is seriously addictive.” “So-jin’s voice is insane.” “JYA finally nailed it.” No one asked about the composer. No one cared who brought this song into the world. The song became the singer’s, the singer became the company’s, the company became capital’s. Seo-ah was at the bottom. Not even at the bottom. She was treated as if she no longer existed.
“I asked Kang Min-jun about it.”
Kang Ri-u spoke. Kang Min-jun. JYA’s representative. Kang Ri-u’s father.
“About what?”
Seo-ah asked.
“Who wrote the songs Park So-jin sings. So what did Min-jun say? ‘In-house composition team.’ In-house composition team. In other words, some faceless someone. You get no credit. You have no name. You don’t exist. And you signed the contract. The one handing over all copyrights to JYA.”
Kang Ri-u spoke. His voice remained calm, but what flowed beneath it was clearly anger. Not anger directed at Seo-ah, but at the world. Or at himself.
Seo-ah looked at the products on the counter. Cigarettes. Lighters. Gum. Energy drinks. All of them waiting for someone to come and take them. Without that, they meant nothing. They existed to be consumed. Was she becoming the same?
“Why are you showing me this video?”
Seo-ah asked.
“Because…”
Kang Ri-u stopped mid-sentence. He lowered his phone screen. Park So-jin’s face disappeared. In its place, Kang Ri-u’s eyes were revealed. Those eyes wanted something. He seemed to want to save Seo-ah. Or perhaps to save himself. The two might have been indistinguishable.
“To make you realize. How serious this situation is. You’re playing a game right now. A game that destroys you. You light a lighter, bring your finger close to the flame, text me, try to turn away from me. And in the meantime, everything that’s yours is slipping away.”
Kang Ri-u spoke.
“Why does it matter to you?”
Seo-ah asked. It was a genuine question. Why did he care so much? Was it love, or possessiveness? Or just a desire to confirm his own power?
Kang Ri-u didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled something from his pocket. A business card. White cardstock. Elegant lettering. Kang Ri-u. Music Producer. Below were a phone number and email.
“Look at this.”
Kang Ri-u said.
“A business card?”
“Look at my title. Music producer. But what do you know? What does it mean that I’m a music producer?”
Kang Ri-u asked.
“I don’t know.”
Seo-ah answered.
“I used to be a pianist. In Berlin. Made it to third place in an international competition. And…”
Kang Ri-u paused. It was a long pause. Seo-ah watched his face. Something was passing across it. A memory? Pain? Kang Ri-u closed his eyes.
“And I gave up. Because my hands trembled. Like yours. Just like your hands tremble, mine trembled too. And when I sat in front of the piano, my fingers would stiffen. No sound came. No music came. So I gave up. And my father took me. To JYA. And he made me this business card. Music producer. In other words, someone in the music industry who doesn’t actually make music. Like a zombie.”
Kang Ri-u spoke. His voice was very low. Almost inaudible.
Seo-ah looked at Kang Ri-u’s hands. They were trembling. Faintly. Just like Seo-ah’s trembled at the counter. That hand gripped the counter. His fingers turned white.
“When I saw you, I saw myself. When I saw your trembling hands, I saw my own. And I wanted to save you. I wanted to save myself through you—the me I couldn’t save.”
Kang Ri-u spoke.
“That’s not saving me. That’s imprisoning me.”
Seo-ah said.
“I know.”
Kang Ri-u answered.
“You know?”
Seo-ah asked.
“I know what I’m doing. I know how broken I am. I know I’m becoming an extension of my father. I know I’m manipulating you. But I can’t stop. Because if I let you go, I’m alone again. If I let go of your trembling hands, I have to face my own again.”
Kang Ri-u spoke.
Silence descended on the counter. Only the hum of the fluorescent lights could be heard. And their breathing. Seo-ah looked at Kang Ri-u. Really looked at him for the first time. At the man named Kang Ri-u. Not as his father’s son. Not as a pianist who couldn’t make music. Just as one human being.
“You know my weakness.”
Seo-ah said.
“Yes.”
Kang Ri-u answered.
“Then leave.”
Seo-ah said.
“What?”
“Leave. From here. From in front of me. Let me go.”
Seo-ah spoke. It wasn’t a plea. It was a command.
“Why?”
Kang Ri-u asked.
“Because you don’t love me—you want to save me. And that salvation is a prison to me. And you know it. You know that too. But you keep doing it anyway. Because you need me. Because I’m your salvation. But I can’t be your salvation. I can’t even save myself. How could I save you?”
Seo-ah said.
Kang Ri-u’s hand released the counter. His hand went into his pocket. He took out his phone. Turned on the screen. Seo-ah watched what he was doing. He was making a call. To someone.
“Find Park So-jin.”
Kang Ri-u said. To someone on the other end of the line. Probably his secretary or assistant.
“What are you doing?”
Seo-ah asked.
“Showing you the truth.”
Kang Ri-u answered.
Kang Ri-u hung up. Then he left the counter. But he didn’t leave the convenience store. Instead, he sat in a chair next to the counter. As if waiting for something. Or waiting for someone.
Seo-ah watched Kang Ri-u. And Kang Ri-u watched Seo-ah. Their eyes met. It wasn’t a battle. It wasn’t surrender. It was a confrontation with truth.
Twenty minutes passed. A few customers came and went during that time. Seo-ah served them. Like a machine. As if her body was there but her soul was somewhere else entirely.
Kang Ri-u kept waiting.
Then the automatic door of the convenience store opened. A woman entered. Early twenties. Brown hair. A face like an idol. It was Park So-jin. She looked surprised when she saw Kang Ri-u.
“Ri-u? What is this? A convenience store in the middle of the night?”
Park So-jin spoke. Her voice was bright. The voice of someone who knew nothing.
Kang Ri-u stood up.
“So-jin. You need to thank this person.”
Kang Ri-u said. And he pointed to Seo-ah at the counter.
“Who is this person?”
Park So-jin asked.
“The songs you sing. You didn’t write them, did you?”
Kang Ri-u said.
“What… what are you talking about?”
Park So-jin said. Confusion appeared on her face.
Seo-ah looked at her own hands. They weren’t trembling. For the first time, they weren’t trembling. Not because Kang Ri-u had left, not because Park So-jin had entered. Simply because she had grown stronger. Or perhaps she had already been as weak as she could be.
“Hello.”
Seo-ah spoke. Her voice was calm. And clear.
“I composed ‘Burning Down’ that Park So-jin sings. And ‘Velvet Night.’ And ‘Last Dance.’ All three songs.”
Seo-ah said.
Park So-jin’s face went pale.
“That’s… Ri-u, what is this? The company said…”
Park So-jin said.
“The company told you the in-house composition team wrote them, right? But the in-house composition team is this person.”
Kang Ri-u said.
And Kang Ri-u looked at Seo-ah. Something appeared in those eyes. Repentance? Or despair? Seo-ah couldn’t tell.
“Why did you call this person?”
Seo-ah asked Kang Ri-u.
“To give you a warning. To show you what JYA can do.”
Kang Ri-u answered.
“That’s not a warning. That’s blackmail.”
Seo-ah said.
“I know.”
Kang Ri-u answered.
Park So-jin looked at Seo-ah. Then at Kang Ri-u. Then at her own hands. She now knew that the songs she sang with those hands weren’t hers. Another victim had awakened.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Park So-jin asked. No one answered. Because no one knew the answer.
Seo-ah leaned against the counter. The fluorescent lights still hummed. Everything in the convenience store remained the same. Cigarettes. Lighters. Gum. Energy drinks. Things waiting to be consumed. And Seo-ah too. Seo-ah now understood. What she was. Not a flame. But ash becoming ash. Slowly. So slowly that no one would notice.
Kang Ri-u left the convenience store. Park So-jin followed. Seo-ah watched their backs. Kang Ri-u’s black BMW. That car carrying Park So-jin disappeared into the nighttime streets.
Seo-ah was left alone. Behind the counter. Under the fluorescent lights. Among the unconsumed products of the convenience store.
Her phone rang. A vibration. It was Hae-ul. A message came through.
“Hey, what are you really doing? Do-hyun cried. Mom said you should buy him food. She doesn’t have the money. And what are you doing at the convenience store?”
Seo-ah looked at the screen. But she didn’t answer. Her fingers wouldn’t move. They were trembling. Trembling again. This time with anger.
Kang Ri-u was right. Seo-ah’s songs were circulating under Park So-jin’s name. And Seo-ah’s mother had no money. And Seo-ah’s younger brother was crying. And Seo-ah? Seo-ah was standing at the convenience store counter. Under the fluorescent lights. Where she had lit a lighter and brought her finger close to the flame.
Something was breaking. Or rather, something was beginning to break. Slowly. Very slowly. But unstoppably.
Seo-ah picked up her phone. She answered Hae-ul.
“Meet me tomorrow. There’s something I need to tell you.”
And she sent the message. And shortly after, she sent a message to Kang Ri-u as well. A very short message.
“We need to make a new contract.”
Kang Ri-u’s reply came immediately.
“Okay. Tomorrow at 10 a.m. My office in Gangnam.”
Seo-ah put her phone down. The hum of the fluorescent lights seemed to grow louder. Or perhaps Seo-ah’s ears had become more sensitive.
2:47 a.m. Under the fluorescent lights of the convenience store. Seo-ah looked at her hands. Trembling hands. But now it wasn’t fear. It was anger. And anger ignites fire. Not a small flame. A great fire. A fire no one can extinguish.
The fluorescent light continued to hum. It wasn’t over. Not because Seo-ah had escaped from Kang Ri-u’s grip. Simply because a new battle had begun.
And this time, Seo-ah was the protagonist.
# Rebirth of the Flame
## Part 1: Awakening
2:23 a.m.
Seo-ah looked at her hands. Thin, pale fingers. Those fingers danced across the keys. Or so she thought they did. Until now. But now, in this moment, when Kang Ri-u’s black BMW stopped in front of the convenience store and he got out and grabbed her arm, everything changed.
“Did you see this?”
Kang Ri-u’s voice was cold and sharp. Like an ice shard. He thrust his phone screen in front of Seo-ah’s face. On the screen was a man. Park So-jin. Not a famous movie actor, not a famous singer, just a mid-level actor. But now his fingers were performing Seo-ah’s composition.
“That’s my song.”
The words from Seo-ah’s mouth were so quiet that even she could barely hear them. As if someone else far away was speaking. That voice was trembling, and the tremor was growing.
Kang Ri-u laughed. That laughter contained mockery and superiority, and a certain cruelty. How many times had Seo-ah heard that laugh in the past year? A hundred times? A thousand times? Too many to count. Every time that laugh came from his mouth, something inside Seo-ah’s chest crumbled a little.
“Did you reread the contract? You transferred the copyright of this song to me. Remember?”
She remembered. Of course she did. Seo-ah could never forget that night. Exactly one year ago. The night she turned eighteen. The night she first met Kang Ri-u. He had come to the young Seo-ah, who wanted to be called a “genius composer,” and whispered sweet words.
“Your music is truly special. I can make you a star.”
How sweet those words were. How false they were. Seo-ah knew now. What she had been then. Just a tool to be used. Fuel. Not a flame, but ash becoming ash. Slowly. So no one would notice.
The fluorescent lights of the convenience store hummed. That sound was like the heartbeat of a machine. Regular, endless, eternal. How much time had Seo-ah spent in this convenience store over the past year? Working a convenience store job while simultaneously making songs in Kang Ri-u’s studio. Eighteen hours a day. For her mother. For her younger brother Do-hyun.
“And now because of you, Park So-jin won the grand prize at the music festival.”
Kang Ri-u’s voice was no longer sweet. Now it was pure threat. Like a whip.
“Should I congratulate you?”
The words from Seo-ah’s mouth were so quiet that she startled even herself. But it wasn’t a signal of surrender. It was the beginning of something else.
Kang Ri-u’s face changed. His eyes narrowed. Like a snake’s.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Seo-ah took a step back. At that moment, Park So-jin got out from behind the BMW. He stood next to Kang Ri-u with an awkward smile. His fingers still moved as if playing something. As if those fingers had a will of their own.
“Oh, Seo-ah. Thanks for the great song. Really. You’re truly talented.”
Park So-jin’s words were awkward. As if he were reading something someone had instructed him to say. And in that moment, Seo-ah understood something.
Park So-jin was also a victim. Just a different kind of victim.
Kang Ri-u was using Park So-jin as an extension of himself. Like his fingers. Like his voice. Kang Ri-u made others do all the things he didn’t want to do, and reaped all the rewards.
“It’s fine. It’s just work.”
Seo-ah answered. That statement was a lie. Everything was a lie. This entire conversation was a lie, this entire situation was false. But now Seo-ah wasn’t afraid of lying. Because lying was the only way to protect the truth.
Kang Ri-u did something with his phone. A few seconds later, Seo-ah’s phone buzzed. A transfer notification. Five million won. Seo-ah’s eyes widened. It was more than double her monthly wages.
“What is this?”
“Royalties for your song. Park So-jin decided to share part of his music festival prize money. Don’t thank me—just make better songs.”
Kang Ri-u smiled. It was the smile of a hunter who had just given food to its prey. So the animal wouldn’t resist anymore. So it wouldn’t try to escape.
“But you know. This song was made under my name. You remember our contract, right?”
“Yes. I remember.”
Seo-ah’s answer was automatic. Like a robot following its programming.
Kang Ri-u and Park So-jin got into the BMW. The engine roared to life. The car began to move slowly. They disappeared into the nighttime streets in front of the convenience store. Leaving only red taillights behind.
Seo-ah was left alone.
## Part 2: Ashes at the Counter
Behind the convenience store counter. Seo-ah moved like a machine. One customer came in. A man in his thirties. Bought cigarettes. Said nothing. Another customer came in. A woman in her forties. Bought an energy drink. Also said nothing.
The fluorescent light hummed. That sound seemed to grow louder. Or perhaps Seo-ah’s ears were becoming more sensitive. As if someone was adjusting the volume inside her. Every sound became louder. The hum of the fluorescent light, the hum of the refrigerator, the sound of cars outside, the bark of a dog in the distance.
Seo-ah’s hands trembled. Seeing this, Seo-ah looked at her hands more closely.
Thin fingers. Nails slightly yellowed from singing. Calluses from playing the keys too much. How many songs had these fingers created in the past year? A hundred? Two hundred? All those songs had gone into the world under Kang Ri-u’s name. Explained by Kang Ri-u’s mouth. Performed by Kang Ri-u’s hands.
No. To be precise, they were performed by Kang Ri-u’s tools. Like Park So-jin.
Her phone rang. A vibration. It was Hae-ul. Seo-ah’s older sister. Or rather, Seo-ah’s stepsister. The daughter of her mother’s new husband. But that didn’t mean Hae-ul wasn’t Seo-ah’s true family. Hae-ul was her family. Her only understanding ally.
A message came through.
“Hey, what are you really doing? Do-hyun cried. Mom said you should buy him food. She doesn’t have the money. And what are you doing at the convenience store?”
Seo-ah’s fingers froze on the screen. Do-hyun. Seo-ah’s younger brother. Twelve-year-old Do-hyun. That child was the reason she endured all this pain. That child was crying? Because he couldn’t eat?
Seo-ah had given her mother 500,000 won last month. Her entire month’s wages. She had given 500,000 won the month before that too. But her mother had no money?
Seo-ah looked at the phone screen, but she didn’t answer. Her fingers wouldn’t move. Instead, they were trembling. Trembling again. Not with fear this time. This time with anger.
What is anger? Anger is fire. Not a small flame, but a great fire. An uncontrollable fire. A fire that burns everything.
Seo-ah looked at the lighter on the counter. A lighter for customers. For people who smoke. Seo-ah picked up that lighter. She brought her finger close to the lighter’s flame. How close? One centimeter? Two?
She felt the heat of the flame. Like someone stamping something small on her skin. It hurt, but at the same time it was precise. Something actually felt. Among all these lies, all these betrayals, all this control, something that was actually true.
Seo-ah pulled her finger away. She hadn’t burned herself yet. But her skin was slightly reddened.
In that moment, an epiphany pierced through Seo-ah’s mind. Like lightning.
Kang Ri-u was right. Seo-ah’s songs were circulating under Park So-jin’s name. That was a lie. An injustice. But Seo-ah now realized that wasn’t her real problem.
The real problem lay elsewhere.
Seo-ah’s mother had no money. Seo-ah’s younger brother was crying. And Seo-ah? Seo-ah was standing at this convenience store counter. Under fluorescent lights. Having received five million won but not knowing where to spend it.
That was the real problem.
Seo-ah picked up her phone. She looked at the screen again. Hae-ul’s message.
Seo-ah typed slowly.
“Meet me tomorrow. There’s something I need to tell you.”
She sent the message.
And a few seconds later, she also sent a message to Kang Ri-u. A very short message.
“We need to make a new contract.”
## Part 3: The Night of Decision
Kang Ri-u’s reply came immediately. Exactly 32 seconds later. Seo-ah felt those 32 seconds were very long. Like 32 minutes.
“Okay. Tomorrow at 10 a.m. My office in Gangnam.”
Seo-ah put down her phone. The screen went black. Reflected in that black screen was Seo-ah’s face. Pale, tired, and with a certain determination showing through.
The fluorescent light continued to hum. That sound no longer bothered Seo-ah’s nerves. Because a different kind of music was playing in her mind.
What song would it be? Seo-ah thought. What song could represent this moment?
It wasn’t a heroic song. Not a song with trumpets and drums blaring. Instead, it was a quiet song. Like the footsteps of someone walking down a night street. Like the sound of a slowly beating heart. Like the silence of someone making a decision.
Seo-ah looked at the convenience store. Cigarettes. Lighters. Gum. Energy drinks. Things waiting to be consumed. And herself behind the counter. Also one of the things waiting to be consumed.
But now it was different.
Now Seo-ah refused to be consumed. Now Seo-ah decided to take back what was hers.
2:47 a.m.
Under the fluorescent lights of the convenience store.
Seo-ah looked at her hands again. Trembling hands. But now it wasn’t fear. Now it was anger. And anger ignites fire. Not a small flame. A great fire. A fire no one can extinguish.
Seo-ah’s phone rang again. This time it was Hae-ul’s reply.
“Got it. I’ll call you before 10 a.m. tomorrow. And I’ll buy Do-hyun food. Don’t worry about it.”
Tears formed in Seo-ah’s eyes. But they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of gratitude. And at the same time, they were tears of determination.
Seo-ah typed again on her phone.
“Thank you. Really thank you. And… I’m going to do something big. I’ll tell you about it later.”
Hae-ul’s reply came immediately.
“What are you going to do? Is it… something dangerous?”
Seo-ah thought for a while. Dangerous? Yes. Very dangerous. Kang Ri-u was a very dangerous person. His legal team was very strong. If Seo-ah violated the contract, he could claim enormous compensation.
But Seo-ah had already calculated that. And Seo-ah had already decided.
“It’s okay. It’s something I can do.”
She sent the message.
## Part 4: The Night Path
3:02 a.m.
Seo-ah’s shift was over. Seo-ah tidied up the counter. Everything was arranged neatly. Cigarettes in the cigarette box. Lighters in the lighter box. Gum in the gum box. Everything was in its place.
As if this world appeared orderly. As if everything was working properly.
But Seo-ah knew. That it was a lie.
Seo-ah left the convenience store. The nighttime streets were quiet. Cars passed infrequently. People were barely visible. At this hour, only the world of night was alive.