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# Chapter 45: Not the Hand, but the Heart
Sae-ah stared at Kang Ri-u’s trembling hands. The fact that those hands could no longer make music. The fact that they were reaching out to save her. The fact that they might push her deeper into a hole instead—all of it was true at the same time.
The convenience store’s fluorescent lights continued their monotonous hum. That sound was no longer background noise. It was the heartbeat of this hour. 2:40 AM. Beyond the window, Seoul’s night was slowly dying. In a few hours, morning would come, and Sae-ah would have to work again at the convenience store counter. Kang Ri-u would have to return to JYA. And Park So-jin would continue singing Sae-ah’s songs.
“You said those hands can’t make music.”
Sae-ah spoke. Her voice was calm, but that calmness was built from fear. “Then why do you keep trying to touch my music with them? You said your hands are broken too, so why do you keep reaching for me?”
Kang Ri-u didn’t answer. Instead, he slowly lowered his hands into his pockets. As if they were dangerous weapons. Sae-ah watched that movement. How careful. How little he trusted himself. That terrified her more. A man who thinks he needs to control himself can lose control at any moment.
“It’s not because I want to touch you.”
Kang Ri-u spoke, his voice barely audible. “It’s not because I want to touch your music either. When I see you, I see everything I lost in Berlin again. Everything my friend lost. Everything I trampled on my way up. And everything you’re trampling on right now. I don’t want to watch you become like that friend. I don’t want to see it.”
Sae-ah looked at him. His face was still pale, but it was a different kind of paleness now. Not the paleness of death, but the paleness of desperation. That was more dangerous. Death is predictable, but desperation isn’t.
“Was I like that friend? The one you mentioned?”
Sae-ah asked. She didn’t ask for his friend’s name. Knowing it already felt too heavy.
“No. But similar and different at the same time.”
Kang Ri-u answered. “That friend lost his dream. I trampled it. You gave up your dream. For money. But you both end up in the same place in the end. I saw it. When I looked at you, I could already see where that path leads. So…”
He trailed off. The fluorescent hum returned, louder now, as if timed to resume whenever he fell silent.
“…So what?”
Sae-ah asked.
“So I wanted to save you. Really.”
Kang Ri-u spoke. His eyes finally lost focus, as if his soul was trying to leave his body. Sae-ah felt like she witnessed that moment—the moment his soul was trying to escape. And how painful it was.
“But you didn’t save me. You made me sign a contract. With JYA. With Kang Min-jun. With your father. And with you too. Do you know what that means?”
Sae-ah didn’t answer his question. She already knew. The meaning of the contract. The meaning of taking his hand. It wasn’t salvation. It was another form of ownership.
“You belong to me now. As my atonement. As my redemption. And it’s going to be terrible for you. Because I’m going to try to succeed through you at what I failed at in Berlin. And you won’t be able to leave, even knowing it. Because you have to feed Do-hyun, you have to take care of your mom, you have to survive the night shifts at the convenience store. So you have no choice but to take my hand. And I’ll keep controlling you, and you’ll keep belonging to me, and after that…”
He stopped again. A long pause, as if what came next terrified him too much to speak.
“…After that?”
Sae-ah asked, her voice shaking.
“After that, you’ll let go like I did. And I’ll find someone else. So this cycle will continue. And no one can stop it. Because this is the industry. This is the world Kang Min-jun created. And I’m his son.”
Kang Ri-u’s voice grew quieter, as if he didn’t want to believe his own words anymore. Or as if he’d believed them for so long that he couldn’t live any other way.
Sae-ah looked at him and decided.
“Then there has to be another way.”
Sae-ah said it simply.
Kang Ri-u looked at her. Something flickered in his eyes. Hope or despair. It was hard to tell.
“What?”
“You said your hands can’t make music. So mine can, right?”
Sae-ah spoke. “You always wanted to touch my music with your hands. So we start over from the beginning. You listen to my music, and I help your hands. Together, we create something. Not what Kang Min-jun wants, but what we want. Can’t we do that?”
Kang Ri-u listened. His face changed slowly, as if someone was shining light on a wall. But the light was still dim—uncertain whether it was real or just an illusion his eyes were creating.
“What are you doing right now?”
Kang Ri-u asked. “Are you trying to save yourself or save me?”
“Maybe both.”
Sae-ah answered. “Does it matter? Right now, we just need to see what we can do. What I can do is sing. What can you do?”
Kang Ri-u didn’t answer. Instead, he raised his hands again. Trembling hands. He moved them slowly in the motion of playing piano. As if pressing keys in the air. And the movement didn’t stop. On and on. As if someone’s fingers were really pressing piano keys. As if that sound was echoing through the convenience store.
“Playing piano means killing him over and over. That friend. Every time. So I couldn’t do it. But you…”
Kang Ri-u lowered his hands and took Sae-ah’s. His hands were still trembling. But now the tremor felt different. Not the tremor of fear, but the tremor of wanting something. The tremor of trying.
“You’ve already let go. You’re using your voice instead. So I can hear your voice. And when I hear it, I see everything I lost in Berlin again. And I feel like I can bring it back. If we’re together.”
Sae-ah felt his hands. Trembling. Warm. And her own hands were trembling too. But not from fear. This was the tremor of decision.
“But you’re still Kang Min-jun’s son.”
Sae-ah said. “And I’m still someone who signed a contract. So no matter what we do, it can’t save us. We’re just buying more time.”
“That’s enough.”
Kang Ri-u said. “It’s enough. Just buying more time. That’s all we need.”
The fluorescent lights continued humming. Sae-ah and Kang Ri-u sat holding hands. Both their hands trembled. One was a hand that lost music. One was a hand that abandoned it. And together, they were trying to create something.
3:00 AM. Almost no one came to the convenience store. Just the two of them. Their breathing. The hum of the lights. And the sound of time passing.
“What should we do?”
Sae-ah asked.
“I don’t know.”
Kang Ri-u answered. “But first, Park So-jin needs to be handled. The fact that she’s singing your song. We start there.”
“How?”
“Tell Kang Min-jun. Tell him what your song is. And So-jin needs to know too. Then you can stand together.”
Kang Ri-u said. “And I’ll… I’ll slowly distance myself from my father. Not yet, but someday. And you…”
He looked into her eyes.
“…You keep singing. Like now. In nights no one witnesses. When you think no one’s watching. Someday, someone will really hear you. Your real voice.”
Sae-ah heard his words. It wasn’t a promise. Promises can be lies. It was only hope. The most fragile kind of hope.
“Can I believe you?”
Sae-ah asked.
Kang Ri-u didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled her close, holding her against his chest. It wasn’t the embrace of love. It was the desperate embrace of two people sinking together, clinging to each other one last time.
“You don’t need to believe. Just come with me. That’s all.”
Kang Ri-u whispered against her ear.
Sae-ah heard his heartbeat. It was fast and irregular. Like a heart running from someone. Or trying to catch someone. She realized her own heart was beating at the same speed. And that terrified her most. Because her heart beating in rhythm with his meant she already belonged to him.
The fluorescent lights continued their hum. That sound was like two hearts beating together.
3:15 AM. Sae-ah gently pushed him away. Not pushing him aside, but creating distance.
“I need to call Ha-neul.”
Sae-ah said. “Before we handle the Park So-jin situation, I need to tell Ha-neul.”
Kang Ri-u looked at her. Something flickered in his eyes. Approval or jealousy. Hard to tell.
“Okay.”
Kang Ri-u said. “But one more thing first.”
He pulled something from his pocket. A business card. But a different one this time. A different company. A small independent label’s name in fine print. And beneath it, not ‘Music Producer Kang Ri-u,’ but another title: ‘Pianist Kang Ri-u.’
“What’s this?”
Sae-ah asked.
“Not yet. But someday I’ll use this card. When that day comes, I’ll take you with me. To this company. And you’ll release your songs under your own name.”
Kang Ri-u said.
Sae-ah took the card. A fake card. A card for a company that doesn’t exist yet. But that made it more precious. Because it wasn’t a promise. It was hope.
“Will I still be alive by then?”
Sae-ah asked.
Kang Ri-u looked at her and smiled. A real smile. For the first time.
“You have to be. Because I can’t live without you.”
The fluorescent lights continued humming. 3:30 AM. A few hours until morning. And when morning came, everything would change. Or nothing would. Sae-ah couldn’t know. She just held his hand and thought of the next things.
Park So-jin. Ha-neul. Do-hyun. Mom. And the reality that her songs were being sung under someone else’s name.
Morning would come. And Sae-ah would work again. At the convenience store. Under fluorescent lights that burned all night. And when night came, she’d go back to the club and sing. Someone else’s songs. Someone else’s lyrics. In someone else’s voice.
But now it was different. Now there was Kang Ri-u. A man with trembling hands. A man who knew whose songs these were. A man trying to change it.
Sae-ah took his hand again.
“You said that card is fake, right?”
Sae-ah asked.
“Yeah. For now.”
Kang Ri-u answered.
“When will it become real?”
Sae-ah asked.
Kang Ri-u didn’t answer. Instead, he squeezed her hand tighter.
“I don’t know. But if we’re together, someday it will become real.”
The fluorescent lights continued humming. That sound was no longer the voice of despair. It was the voice of waiting. Waiting for morning. Waiting for change. Waiting for something the two of them would create together.
3:45 AM. Sae-ah picked up her phone. It was time to call Ha-neul.
[Pending Automatic Review]
# The Fake Business Card
When Sae-ah first held that piece of paper, she didn’t understand what it was. When Kang Ri-u pulled it from his pocket with slow fingers and handed it to her, it looked like nothing more than a scrap of paper. But the moment it touched her palm, she knew. It was a business card.
The convenience store’s fluorescent lights hummed. 3:25 AM. Time seemed to have stopped, and the world felt like it belonged only to them. The beep of the self-checkout, the distant sound of a car engine—all faded into background music.
Sae-ah lifted the card. The paper was thicker than expected. A premium card. A card made with someone’s care. Her eyes traced the lettering. In that moment, her breath caught.
The company name was unfamiliar. Not a major entertainment company. A small independent label in fine print. Sae-ah read the name several times. Mouthed the syllables. A strange company. But what was stranger was the title.
Not ‘Music Producer Kang Ri-u.’
‘Pianist Kang Ri-u.’
Sae-ah’s finger stopped on the card. Each letter seemed alive, trembling. No—it wasn’t the card trembling. It was Sae-ah’s hand. She didn’t realize it, but Kang Ri-u knew. Her fingers were touching his dream.
“What is this?”
Sae-ah’s voice was small. As if afraid this moment would shatter.
Kang Ri-u looked out the window. The early morning darkness still dominated the street. The dim street lit by streetlamps was nearly empty. It was their world. Or more precisely, their time. The time when night rules the day. The time when all the noise of daytime disappears.
Kang Ri-u opened his mouth. His voice was calm as always, but something different flowed through it. Something you could call hope.
“Not yet.”
He said, and paused. Looking at her face. Her eyes wouldn’t leave the card. As if afraid it would break.
“But someday I’ll use this card. When that day comes, I’ll take you with me. To this company.”
His voice deepened. Like swearing an oath.
“And you’ll release your songs under your own name.”
When those words fell, Sae-ah breathed. As if she’d been holding her breath all along. Something glistened in her eyes. Tears, or hope—she couldn’t tell which.
Sae-ah held the card closer. The fluorescent light reflected off its surface. A shimmering finish. Premium colors. But it couldn’t be real. Kang Ri-u himself had said “not yet.”
“This is fake?”
Sae-ah asked again. This time in informal speech. So intimate was this moment, so terrifying.
“Yeah. For now.”
Kang Ri-u answered. His hand came to rest on hers. A trembling hand. His fingers told the story of how long he’d been preparing for this moment.
“You mean the company doesn’t exist?”
Sae-ah asked. Her voice growing quieter.
“Not yet. But…”
Kang Ri-u stopped. And looked into her eyes. His pupils wavered. Full of emotion.
“…someday it will be real. If we’re together.”
As he spoke, a smile bloomed on his lips. But it wasn’t his usual cold smile. It was a real smile. A smile that lit up his whole face. Perhaps for the first time.
Sae-ah watched that smile. And she understood. How deep Kang Ri-u’s emotions ran. How much he’d been hiding. How much determination was buried beneath those trembling hands.
The fluorescent lights continued their hum. Like counting a beat. Measuring the hours of dawn. One minute, one minute, one minute. It became 3:30 AM.
Sae-ah held the card to her chest. She wanted to protect it this way—because she didn’t know how precious it was, or rather, because she knew all too well.
“Will I be alive until then?”
Sae-ah asked. The question wasn’t simple. It was anxiety. Fear. Deep awareness of how unstable her life was, how fragile.
Park So-jin. Ha-neul. Do-hyun. And Mom.
Those names passed through her heart. Things she’d lost. Things she’d had to abandon. Things that had been taken. Shadows clinging to her back.
Kang Ri-u looked at her. That small frame, those fragile shoulders, those frightened eyes. And he smiled. A real smile.
“You have to be.”
He said. There was a command in his voice. But not a harsh command. Almost a plea.
“Because I can’t live without you.”
When those words escaped, something flowed from Sae-ah’s eyes. Tears. She didn’t know how long she’d been waiting for such words. Words that someone needed her existence. Words that she mattered to someone.
Kang Ri-u’s hand cradled her face. A warm hand. A trembling hand. But Sae-ah wanted to lean on it. Forever.
“But… will it really happen?”
Sae-ah asked. Her finger tracing the letters on the card. ‘Pianist Kang Ri-u.’ How beautiful those letters were. How impossible they seemed.
“I don’t know.”
Kang Ri-u answered honestly. And it sounded more true because of it.
“But if we’re together… someday it will be possible.”
He took her hand again. The hand holding the card.
“Can we… endure until then?”
Sae-ah asked. Working at the convenience store. Performing at the club. Someone else’s songs. Someone else’s lyrics. In someone else’s voice.
Kang Ri-u didn’t answer. Instead, he drew her close. Their foreheads touched. In the fragile light of dawn.
“Because I’m here… you’ll be able to.”
He whispered. As if speaking to himself.
The fluorescent lights continued their hum. No longer the voice of despair. The voice of waiting. Waiting for morning. Waiting for change. Waiting for something the two of them would create together.
Sae-ah buried her face in his chest. She heard his heartbeat. Fast and rushing. Maybe because of her, she thought.
“Will you promise?”
Sae-ah asked. Her voice barely audible.
“Promise what?”
Kang Ri-u asked.
“Until then… you won’t abandon me?”
Sae-ah’s voice trembled. As if she’d used up all her remaining courage.
Kang Ri-u didn’t answer. Instead, he brushed her hair back. And kissed her forehead. That was the truest promise.
3:35 AM.
The self-checkout detected another customer. A signal beeped. But no one came in. Just a system error. Like an error in time itself.
Sae-ah lifted the card again. She placed it in her shirt pocket. Close to her heart. The closest place to it.
“What if I lose this?”
Sae-ah asked. Almost joking.
“I’ll draw it again. As many times as it takes.”
Kang Ri-u answered. And took her hand again. As if unwilling to let go.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Endlessly.”
Kang Ri-u’s answer was firm. As if promising a lifetime.
The fluorescent lights continued humming. 3:40 AM. Still a few hours until morning. And when morning came, everything would change. Or nothing would. Sae-ah couldn’t know.
But one thing was certain.
She wasn’t alone. Beside her was a man with trembling hands. A man who knew whose songs these were. A man trying to change it.
3:45 AM.
Sae-ah picked up her phone. She turned on the screen. Several missed calls. From Mom. From Ha-neul. From the club manager.
But Sae-ah didn’t look at those calls. Instead, she looked at Kang Ri-u. And smiled. A real smile.
“When can we… leave?”
“I don’t know. But if we’re together… someday we’ll be able to.”
Kang Ri-u answered. And squeezed her hand tighter.
The fluorescent lights continued their hum. Dawn persisted. And the two of them sat there, waiting for morning together. Waiting for change. Waiting for their dreams.
The business card trembled in Sae-ah’s pocket, beating in time with her heart. A fake card. But the truest promise.
Until the day it becomes real.