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# Chapter 55: A Hotel Bed, Too Large and Too Lonely
The taxi wound toward the old city center. Seia watched the streets pass by her window. Jeju at 11:50 p.m. It was different from Seoul. Fewer lights. Shorter buildings. A place where time seemed to move slowly.
The driver turned on the radio. A DJ’s voice filtered through the speakers. “…This week’s weather will be affected by a low-pressure system moving north from the south. Wind will particularly strengthen from tomorrow morning…” Seia let the words wash over her. The weather didn’t matter. What mattered was where she was. Why she was here. And that answer wasn’t clear either.
“First time visiting?”
The driver asked again. Seia answered, “Yes.” A lie. But also the truth. This Seia—the Seia of this moment—was as good as a first-time visitor. The Seia from six years ago was dead. Someone else had taken her place. A more exhausted Seia. A quieter Seia. A lonelier Seia.
“Jeju’s a wonderful place. Especially this time of year. Not many tourists. Peaceful.”
The driver continued talking. Seia didn’t respond. In the back seat of that taxi, she decided to become a ghost. An invisible passenger. Better the driver thought he was talking to himself.
“Young people these days don’t understand Jeju. They just chase whatever’s Instagram-worthy. But Jeju isn’t like that. Jeju is… something you have to feel.”
The driver’s tone suddenly shifted. As if lecturing someone. Or speaking to himself. In his voice, Seia heard a distant longing. This man had lost something to Jeju too. Perhaps his youth. Perhaps love. Perhaps himself.
“There’s a good hotel near City Hall. Quiet. Fair prices. Want to try it?”
Seia nodded. There was no other answer to give.
The hotel lobby wasn’t what she expected. It wasn’t grand. Actually, it was cozy. A woman in her thirties stood behind the counter. When she saw Seia, she paused briefly. As if recognizing something. But Seia couldn’t tell what.
“Just one guest?”
“Yes.”
“How many nights?”
Seia had to think. How many nights would she stay? When would Kang Ri-woo arrive? Would he arrive? Or was this another kind of trap? Another contract. Another lie.
“…Two nights for now.”
“Understood.”
The woman began typing on her computer. Seia heard the sound. Click-clack. The sound of her information being recorded digitally. Her name, phone number, ID number. Everything being stored somewhere on a server. As if proving she existed.
“Room 402, fourth floor. Take the elevator and go right. Breakfast is from 7 to 9 a.m. at the café on the first floor. Checkout is 11 a.m. tomorrow. Call the front desk if you need anything.”
Seia received the key card. Thin plastic. With this, she could enter her room. Have her own space. For the first time.
In the elevator climbing to the fourth floor, Seia saw her reflection in the mirror. Was that really her? Her eyes were too distant. Her lips too pale. Her skin taut as if someone had pulled it tight from within. As if something inside her was ready to explode. And when it did, she would disappear completely.
Room 402 was small. A double bed, a desk, a window. That was all. Seia set down her bag and sat on the bed. The mattress was soft. Too soft—almost uncomfortable.
She picked up her phone. 12:15 a.m. Do-hyun was probably sleeping. Mother too. Sky too. What about Ri-woo?
She texted Kang Ri-woo.
“I made it to Jeju. Checked into the hotel. What should I do now?”
The reply came three minutes later.
“Sleep.”
That was all. That single short sentence. Seia read it several times over. As if a cipher were hidden within it. But there was nothing. Just an instruction. Nothing more.
Seia undressed slowly. As if her skin belonged to someone else. The clothes she’d worn in Seoul. Convenience store uniform. Worn jeans. She dropped them all on the floor.
She showered. As the hot water enveloped her body, for the first time Seia felt like crying. But no tears came. As if someone had blocked her tear ducts too.
When she lay down on the bed, it was 12:47 a.m. The bed was truly enormous. Nothing like the bed in her shabby semi-basement studio. And that large bed made her small body seem even smaller. As if she were dust on a mattress.
She looked at the ceiling. White. Above it, she heard the sound of the AC unit. A humming sound. Like someone calling her name from far away.
She picked up her phone again. Reread Sky’s messages. The last one was from two hours ago.
“Seia. Something’s off. Do-hyun called me. He said you’re going to Jeju. He said Kang Ri-woo told his mother where he sent you. What happened? What’s going on?”
Seia replied to Sky.
“It’s okay. Really. Everything’s fine. I’ll call tomorrow.”
A lie. But also the truth. Because she didn’t know if “everything’s fine.” Only time would tell. Or maybe Kang Ri-woo would know. Why had he sent her to Jeju? What did it mean—“your father is approaching you differently”?
She rolled around in bed. Left side. Right side. The bed was still too large.
She checked her phone. 1:23 a.m.
Another text from Kang Ri-woo came through.
“Let’s meet tomorrow morning. 8 a.m. Hotel lobby.”
Seia replied, “Understood.”
Then she set the phone on the nightstand.
Morning came too fast. So fast it seemed like there had been no night at all.
Seia wasn’t sure if she’d woken up or never actually slept. She couldn’t track how time had passed. She’d just stared at the ceiling, listened to the AC hum, checked her phone repeatedly, and then suddenly the window was bright.
7:42 a.m.
Seia got out of bed. It took enormous energy to stand. As if her body were made of heavy stone. This hadn’t happened yesterday.
She showered in cold water to shock herself awake. Then dressed. She put back on yesterday’s clothes. She had nothing cleaner.
When she reached the lobby, it was 7:59 a.m.
Kang Ri-woo was already there.
He stood by the window, looking outside. He didn’t seem to notice her entering. Or perhaps he did but didn’t react.
Seia stood beside him. Without speaking. He didn’t speak either. They both looked out at the street.
Jeju’s morning was clear. The sky was blue. Not a cloud in sight. As if someone had washed the heavens clean.
“I’m sorry.”
Kang Ri-woo spoke first.
“For what?”
Seia asked.
“For sending you like this.”
“…Why?”
“My father is trying to target you. It’s still in the planning stages. But the moment he learned I was leaving the company, he changed his approach. Instead of direct threats, he wants to pressure you in subtler ways.”
Seia looked at Kang Ri-woo’s face. It was pale. Like he’d been awake all night. But that paleness wasn’t from sleeplessness. It was the paleness of someone who’d made a decision. A decision to abandon himself.
“What kind of subtle ways?”
“Your identity. Your past. Everything he can use to attack you. He’ll dig into it all. Your mother. Your brother. Your friends. It will all become tools.”
Seia’s hands trembled. Like Ri-woo’s. But now worse than his.
“You? Why?”
“I’m leaving. Quitting the company. Breaking ties with my father. And you wait here. Until I sort everything out.”
“Sort everything out? Ri-woo, what does that even…?”
“It’s the only way to protect you.”
Kang Ri-woo met Seia’s eyes. His eyes were dark and deep. As if they contained a Berlin night within them.
“As long as I’m still at the company, my father will use you to pressure me. But if I leave? Then you’re no longer his tool. Then you’re free. Or at least… you’ll have a chance to start over.”
“Alone?”
Seia asked.
“No. I’ll start over too. But first you stay here. I handle everything in Seoul. Then…”
“How many weeks?”
“I don’t know. It depends on how far my father’s willing to go.”
Seia understood what Kang Ri-woo was saying. She knew these weren’t complete lies, but they weren’t complete truths either. He was trying to protect her. But simultaneously, he was using her. By sending her to Jeju, he was making her evidence. Using her very existence as a weapon.
But Seia couldn’t protest. Because Ri-woo might be right. And she was already here in Jeju. There was no going back.
“When are you leaving?”
“This morning. There’s a flight. 10 a.m.”
Seia checked her watch. 8:07 a.m.
Two hours. That was all the time they had together. Just two hours.
“What should we do?”
Seia asked.
“Let’s eat. Together.”
The hotel café’s breakfast was buffet-style. Small baskets of bread, scrambled eggs, bacon, cereal, yogurt, orange juice. All things Seia had encountered over the past six years. But not like the convenience store kimbap, instant noodles, and quick meals. These were softer, more thoughtful, more expensive.
Kang Ri-woo took only black coffee. He ate nothing.
“You need to eat,” Seia said.
“I’m fine.”
“No. Your hands are shaking. Your blood sugar’s dropping.”
Seia placed eggs on his plate. Bacon too. Bread as well. Kang Ri-woo didn’t resist. He simply ate them. As if his body belonged to someone else.
“I’m sorry,” Kang Ri-woo said again.
“For what?”
“Everything. For what I’ve made you. For putting you in this situation.”
Seia didn’t answer. Instead, she ate her own food. But it had no taste. Everything felt like chewing paper.
“What will you do? Here? For these next few weeks?”
Kang Ri-woo asked.
“I don’t know.”
“…Music?”
Seia looked at Kang Ri-woo. Music. That word had already disappeared from her dictionary. Or rather, she’d deliberately erased it.
“Music isn’t mine anymore. I signed a contract, remember?”
“That’s a contract with Kang Min-jun. If I leave… it could become void.”
“Void? Ri-woo, that’s what you think. Reality will be different.”
“…Yeah. It probably will be.”
They both fell silent. Background music played in the café. Some pop song. Seia began analyzing it. D major. 4/4 time. The chords were… No. She couldn’t think like that.
Seia stopped listening to the music. Instead, she watched Kang Ri-woo’s hands. They were still trembling. Every time he tried to pick up the eggs, his fork shook.
“What happened in Berlin?”
Seia asked. It was a question she shouldn’t have asked. But in this moment, in the last two hours, she needed to know.
Kang Ri-woo set down his fork. He said nothing for a long time.
“I had a friend. He made music. Better than I did. Piano. We… wrote songs together. We competed in Berlin. And… he died. Three years ago.”
“…How?”
“Suicide. The night before his concert. I couldn’t stop it. Even though I was right there. And after that… I couldn’t play piano anymore. My hands refused. As if I’d killed him.”
Seia looked at Kang Ri-woo’s hands. Trembling hands. Hands made of guilt.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Seia said.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure. That’s why I abandoned music. That’s why I joined my father’s company. Started working in the place that killed music.”
“That… doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t. It doesn’t at all. That’s why I went crazy. And when I saw you…”
Kang Ri-woo met Seia’s eyes.
“You looked like my friend. You had the same eyes. Like someone was draining you from the inside. So I… I wanted to save you. Since I couldn’t save my friend, I wanted to save you.”
“That’s… not my responsibility.”
Seia said. It was something Kang Ri-woo needed to hear. And something she needed to tell herself.
“I know. I know that now.”
Kang Ri-woo replied.
When they left the café, it was 9:42 a.m. Kang Ri-woo called a taxi.
“I have to go to the airport.”
He said.
“Okay.”
Seia replied.
In the taxi, Kang Ri-woo took Seia’s hand. His hand was warm. And trembling.
“I’m sorry.”
He said it again.
“…What will you do? In Seoul?”
“I don’t know. I have to fight my father. Sort out contracts. And… figure out if my hands can move again.”
“And me?”
“You stay here. For now. And wait until I come back.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah. I promise.”
When they arrived at the airport, Kang Ri-woo didn’t embrace Seia. He just squeezed her hand once more. Hard. Then he got out. Took his luggage. Left her behind in the taxi.
Seia watched him from the car. His back. Growing smaller and smaller. Then finally disappearing.
When Seia returned to the hotel, she really looked at her room for the first time.
A bed. A desk. A window. And that was all. But now that was everything. This room was all she had.
Seia lay down on the bed. The large bed. Her small body upon it.
She picked up her phone and texted Do-hyun.
“I’m doing well in Jeju. Keep going to school hard. Go to academy too. Tell Mom if you need anything.”
Do-hyun’s reply came quickly.
“What are you doing there? Really a school field trip?”
“Yeah. It’s a field trip. Everything’s fine.”
A lie. But also the truth.
Then Seia set the phone down. She looked at the ceiling. White. There was nothing on it. Just emptiness. Like her future.
Outside, the Jeju wind was blowing. A salty wind. A wind that smelled of living things.
Seia opened the window. And breathed in that wind. Deeply.
The memories from six years ago came flooding back. The sound of her mother’s scream as she surfaced. The sound of Do-hyun’s laughter. Her own voice.
Where was that voice now?
Seia returned to bed. And closed her eyes.
The Jeju wind continued blowing. As if nothing had changed. As if nothing had ended. As if everything had to start over from the beginning.
The hotel bed was too large. And now she understood just how lonely that could be.