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# Chapter 61: Until I Call Your Name
Sae-ah opened her eyes. A ceiling came into view. A wooden ceiling. An unfamiliar ceiling. As she sat up, understanding crashed over her in waves. Jeju Island. Kang Ri-woo’s villa. The bed was large, the bedding luxurious, and the sunlight painfully bright.
She checked the time. 11:47 AM.
Sae-ah realized she’d never slept this long before. In Seoul, it was three hours at most. Four if she was lucky. Convenience store shifts at night, songwriting at dawn, survival during the day. That cycle ran so deep that nine hours of sleep felt like someone else’s body, not her own.
She rose from bed. The floor was warm. Like ondol heating. No—it was radiant heating. Of course a place like Kang Ri-woo’s villa would have that. Sae-ah found it strange. Why would a Jeju villa need ondol? For someone? Or simply because money remained to spare?
The bedroom was vast. A bed, a sofa, a bookshelf, and a window. Beyond the window lay the sea. A Jeju beach at morning. Waves visible. Completely different from yesterday’s dark waves. These were blue. Shattered by sunlight, scattered like fragments.
Sae-ah recalled yesterday. Yesterday morning. What Kang Ri-woo had said. Han Jun-ho. Berlin. Suicide. Those words still lingered in her ears. Like the resonance of a ringing bell. A sound that wouldn’t stop.
Kang Ri-woo had wept on the water. She’d never seen him like that before. His face breaking like that. Like ice cracking. And from those cracks, something black had flowed.
Sae-ah left the bedroom. The hallway stretched long. A wooden corridor. Photographs hung on the walls. Childhood photos of Kang Ri-woo. A boy sitting before a piano. A boy in a black suit. And beside him… another boy. Similar age. Similar face. Both smiling.
Han Jun-ho. Could that be him?
Sae-ah stared at the photograph for a long time. It felt like seeing a dead person for the first time. In the photo, he was alive. Smiling. A boy who would die three years later, smiling toward this very moment, unknown to anyone.
“I made breakfast.”
Kang Ri-woo’s voice came from behind. Sae-ah turned. He was emerging from the kitchen direction. Wearing an apron. A black apron. It looked out of place. She couldn’t imagine him cooking.
“You made rice?”
“Something simple. Rolled egg, miso soup, rice. And…”
Kang Ri-woo stopped. He was looking at her. His eyes seemed to hold yesterday’s tears. But his face was composed. Like he was wearing a mask.
“What?”
“Did you see the photo?”
He asked, noting her standing before it.
“Yes. That boy is…”
“Han Jun-ho.”
Kang Ri-woo said it himself. As if he wouldn’t be able to say it forever if he didn’t say it now.
Sae-ah looked at the photo again. Han Jun-ho. Now the name attached itself to the image. Came alive. Or seemed more dead. Because photographs are instruments that make dead things vivid.
“Let’s eat.”
Kang Ri-woo spoke. A tone that wanted to end this. Sae-ah followed. She decided not to ask questions. Last night had been enough. Last night had already taken too much.
The kitchen was bright. Large windows, sunlight flooding in. Food was laid on the table. Just as Kang Ri-woo had said. Rolled egg, miso soup, rice. And additionally: seaweed, diced radish kimchi, seaweed soup.
“Quite a lot.”
“You only drank water last night.”
Sae-ah sat. Kang Ri-woo was already seated. Across from her. A table between them. A safe distance. Or an unsafe one.
Sae-ah ate. One spoonful of miso soup. One spoonful of rice. One bite of rolled egg. Her pace was slow. As if eating were a duty. Or as if this silence had to be filled.
Kang Ri-woo ate his rice too. His pace equally slow. Both of them seemed to be sitting rather than eating. As if this were some kind of ritual rather than a meal.
“When do you have to go back to Seoul?”
Kang Ri-woo broke the silence first.
“The convenience store shift…”
Sae-ah calculated. How many more days were there? She’d left for Jeju at 4 AM yesterday. So the manager would have already been contacted. Or maybe not. Sae-ah couldn’t remember calling the manager.
“You didn’t contact your manager?”
“No.”
“Do it now.”
Kang Ri-woo said it. It was an order. But his voice held no commanding tone. It sounded like a suggestion.
Sae-ah picked up her phone. The battery was at 15%. How long had it been on? How long since she’d powered it off?
There were messages. From her manager. From Do-hyun. From Ha-neul.
Manager: “Sae-ah, what are you doing? You didn’t show for your shift yesterday with no word?”
Manager: “Hello? No reply?”
Manager: “Fine, I’ll just find someone else.”
Do-hyun: “Noona, what are you doing? You’re not in Seoul?”
Do-hyun: “Seriously?”
Do-hyun: “Where did you go? Alone??”
Ha-neul: “Sae-ah what happened lol contact me”
Ha-neul: “But is this good? I saw you last night and something seemed off about you”
Sae-ah stopped at Ha-neul’s message. Something seemed off about me last night? What did Ha-neul see? Sae-ah had no memory of last night. She’d been on the beach with Kang Ri-woo, in the water with him, and then?
Then there was nothing.
“What is it?”
Kang Ri-woo asked. He seemed to read her expression.
“A friend’s message…”
Sae-ah said.
“What did she say?”
“That I seemed strange last night.”
Kang Ri-woo’s face changed. Very subtly. But distinctly. As if he’d remembered something. Or was trying to hide something.
“What happened last night?”
Sae-ah asked. This was the question she needed to ask. Since her memory held nothing.
“You heard everything I said. And…”
Kang Ri-woo stopped.
“And?”
“And you cried.”
At those words, Sae-ah’s face burned. She’d cried. She had cried. She had no memory of it. But it made sense. Hearing the name Han Jun-ho. Hearing the word suicide. And when Kang Ri-woo held her and whispered something.
“What happened after?”
“After that, I brought you home. You were sleeping.”
Kang Ri-woo said. His voice was normal again. Like the mask had been replaced.
Sae-ah picked up her rice again. There was nothing more to ask. That she had cried was enough.
After the meal, Kang Ri-woo took Sae-ah to the beach. A different beach from yesterday. Further north. A beach with people. But it was 1 PM, so there weren’t many. A few families. A few couples. And solitary people.
“What are we doing here?”
Sae-ah asked.
“Nothing. Just… be here.”
Kang Ri-woo answered.
They sat on the sand. Different sand from yesterday. Warmer. Sand heated by sunlight. Sae-ah’s feet buried in it.
Waves rolled in. Rolled out. Rolled in. Rolled out. The rhythm didn’t end. It seemed eternal. As if time itself flowed like waves.
“Don’t apologize.”
Kang Ri-woo suddenly spoke.
“For what?”
“For yesterday. For crying.”
Sae-ah looked at him.
“I’m not apologizing.”
“No?”
“No. You have the right to cry.”
At those words, something shifted in Kang Ri-woo’s face. A subtle change. As if someone had placed a hand beneath his face and lifted it slightly.
“What do you want?”
Kang Ri-woo asked. It was the same question as yesterday. But the tone was different. Yesterday it was probing. Today it was genuine.
“I don’t know.”
Sae-ah answered.
“You don’t know?”
“No. Really.”
Sae-ah grabbed some sand. And let it fall. The sand scattered in the wind. Somewhere.
“Do you need money?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Sae-ah calculated. Do-hyun’s tuition. Mom’s medicine. Rent. Food. The number that came from adding it all.
“A million won would…”
“A million?”
Kang Ri-woo laughed. It was a sad laugh. No—it wasn’t a laugh. Just an expression.
“No. I think it’s more.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
Sae-ah said that again. It felt like her only truth. Not knowing. Nothing being certain. Everything blurred and unclear.
Kang Ri-woo took out his phone. And did something. Sae-ah watched. A bank transfer. Numbers. Many numbers.
“What are you doing?”
Sae-ah asked.
“Sending money.”
“No… just…”
Sae-ah raised her hand. Meaning stop.
“Why? You won’t take it?”
“I can’t accept it.”
Sae-ah’s voice was small.
“Why?”
“Because it will make me deeper in this. With you.”
The moment she said it, Sae-ah understood what she was saying. And Kang Ri-woo understood too. His eyes changed. As if someone had opened them for him.
“You…”
Kang Ri-woo began. But stopped. Couldn’t finish.
“What?”
Sae-ah asked.
“Don’t you… like me?”
The question was strange. Why ask like that? Why with such a weak voice?
“It’s not about liking or disliking.”
Sae-ah answered.
“Then what is it?”
“I’m afraid.”
Sae-ah said. It was the truth. Her deepest truth.
“Of me?”
“No. Not of you… of myself. That when you look at me, you see someone else. A person named Han Jun-ho. And that you’re trying to save them. That’s what frightens me.”
Sae-ah looked at the waves. They still rolled in. Out. Didn’t stop.
“I’m sorry to you. Really.”
Kang Ri-woo said.
“What does sorry mean?”
“That I saw you as my wound. As my guilt. As something to be saved. I’m sorry for that.”
Kang Ri-woo looked directly at Sae-ah. Without running.
“And now?”
Sae-ah asked.
“Now…”
Kang Ri-woo paused. For a long time.
“Now what?”
“Now I want to know you. You as a person. Without my wounds. Without my guilt. Just you. But…”
Kang Ri-woo paused again.
“But?”
“But I don’t know if I can. I’m already someone who saw you that way. I can’t erase that.”
Hearing that, Sae-ah understood something. Not what Kang Ri-woo wanted, but what he feared.
“That’s okay.”
Sae-ah said.
“It’s okay?”
“Yes. Even if you tried to save me, if I can stand up on my own, it’s okay. Even if you saw me as Han Jun-ho, I’m Na Sae-ah, so it’s okay. As long as your guilt doesn’t govern my life, it’s okay.”
Kang Ri-woo looked at Sae-ah. For a long time. As if seeing her for the first time. Or the last time.
“Can I let you go?”
Kang Ri-woo asked.
“What?”
“Can I let you go? Really.”
Sae-ah didn’t answer. It wasn’t a question she could answer. It was a question he had to answer himself.
Kang Ri-woo stood. And walked along the beach. Alone. Sae-ah didn’t follow. Following would be another form of dependence.
Sae-ah sat alone. On the sand. Listening to the sound of waves. And the sound of her own heartbeat.
I’m sorry. Kang Ri-woo had said.
What does sorry mean? Sae-ah thought. What does it really mean?
Is it regret? Or is it the will to change? Or is it simply words? Just words.
Sae-ah thought she didn’t know. And that seemed right. The unknowable things. That was the world. And that was how to live.
Kang Ri-woo became distant. Smaller. Finally he disappeared into the waves. No—he didn’t disappear. Just the distance grew. But it looked that way. As if he’d vanished.
Sae-ah’s phone rang. Ha-neul.
“Hello?”
“Sae-ah what are you doing? Are you insane?”
Ha-neul’s voice was loud and urgent.
“I’m in Jeju.”
Sae-ah said.
“Jeju? Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Sae-ah answered.
“You don’t know? God. Sae-ah listen. You know that Kang Ri-woo’s dad is CEO of JYA, right?”
Sae-ah knew. Kang Ri-woo had told her.
“And you know that company is pushing Park So-jin?”
“Yes. I know.”
“And you know Park So-jin did your song?”
“I know.”
Sae-ah answered that she knew everything.
“Then why are you there? Why are you with that guy?”
Ha-neul’s voice got higher.
“I don’t know.”
Sae-ah said that again.
“You don’t know? Seriously, one time…”
Ha-neul stopped. And breathed deeply.
“Sae-ah. What do you really want right now?”
That question was the same one Kang Ri-woo had asked. But it felt different coming from someone else.
“I don’t know.”
Sae-ah answered. But this time with a different tone. This time not that she truly didn’t know, but that she didn’t want to know.
“You don’t want to know?”
Ha-neul caught it.
“Yes.”
Sae-ah admitted it.
“Why?”
“Because knowing would hurt more.”
Sae-ah said. And it was the truth.
“If knowing hurts… can you live without knowing?”
Ha-neul asked.
“Yes. Maybe.”
Sae-ah answered.
Ha-neul sighed. A long sigh. Sae-ah felt much contained in that sigh. Worry. Anger. And something more. Something deeper.
“Come back to Seoul tomorrow. Alone. Without that guy.”
“Okay.”
Sae-ah answered.
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
Sae-ah said.
The call ended. Sae-ah put down her phone. And looked at the waves again. They still rolled in. Out.
Kang Ri-woo was still far away. No—he was coming back. Sae-ah saw him. Walking on the sand toward her. His clothes were wet. It looked like he’d been submerged in the waves.
Kang Ri-woo sat beside Sae-ah. Without speaking. Just sat. Sae-ah didn’t speak either. Both watched the waves.
“I don’t think I can let you go.”
Kang Ri-woo finally said.
“I know.”
Sae-ah answered.
“Is that okay?”
“No.”
Sae-ah answered honestly.
Kang Ri-woo laughed. This time not a sad laugh. It sounded like a real laugh.
“You’re honest.”
“Yes.”
Sae-ah answered.
“Do you have to go back to Seoul tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
Sae-ah answered again.
Kang Ri-woo looked at his own hands. The fingers. They were still trembling. But less than yesterday. As if it were healing. Or as if time was simply covering it up.
“What can I do for you?”
Kang Ri-woo asked.
“You don’t have to do anything.”
Sae-ah answered.
“Nothing?”
“No. Just stay like this.”
Sae-ah said.
Kang Ri-woo took Sae-ah’s hand. Different from yesterday. This wasn’t a hand trying to save. It was simply a hand wanting to be together.
The waves continued to roll in. Out. And would roll in again. It wouldn’t end. That was the sea.
And Sae-ah thought. That she too might be like the sea. Never-ending. Always flowing. And capable of swallowing someone.
If Kang Ri-woo couldn’t let her go, then she might have to let him go. That might be love. Or it might be survival.
Sae-ah still didn’t know. And that seemed right.
End of Chapter
# Deeper Things
## Part One
When the sun hung at its zenith, Sae-ah’s phone rang.
The moment she saw the name on the screen, her heart sank. Mom. Her mom in Seoul. Why would she call at this hour? Sae-ah deliberated. Answer or not? Her finger hovered over the screen. Finally, she decided to pick up.
“Hello?”
Her voice came out carefully. Even Sae-ah could hear how tense she was.
“Sae-ah? It’s Mom.”
The voice through the phone was different from usual. Something urgent. No—sad. Sae-ah couldn’t name the emotion precisely, but there were clearly tears soaked into that voice.
“Yes, Mom. What’s wrong?”
Sae-ah got up from the bed and moved to the window. Outside was gray. Overcast. As if reflecting her own mood.
“Are you… with Kang Ri-woo?”
That instant, Sae-ah’s body went rigid. The name. That name alone made her chest sink. Kang Ri-woo. Still such a powerful name. Sae-ah breathed deeply. Her lungs felt heavy. Like drowning in water.
“Yes… what’s happened?”
“What did that man say to you?”
Mom’s voice was trembling. And anger was mixed in too. Sae-ah felt she’d heard this voice before. When Mom spoke about Father.
“Mom… is something wrong?”
“Come back to Seoul tomorrow. Alone. Without that man.”
It sounded like an order. Sae-ah’s mother was speaking in an almost commanding tone. And it was an order with no room for choice.
Sae-ah couldn’t speak for a long time. The hand holding the phone kept trembling. She felt she was missing something. Something deeper. Something invisible but definitely there.
“Okay.”
In the end, Sae-ah only answered that.
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
Sae-ah said. Her voice sounded like someone else’s.
The call ended. Mom said nothing more. She just hung up. Sae-ah slowly lowered her phone. Her hand continued to tremble.
She went back to the window. The one overlooking the sea. The pension where Kang Ri-woo was staying was close to the ocean. The sound of waves carried from afar. The rhythm of rolling in and out. It sounded like someone’s breathing.
_Tomorrow I have to go back to Seoul. Alone. Without Kang Ri-woo._
Sae-ah retraced that command. Why had Mom spoken so firmly? What was mixed into that voice—anger, fear, or both?
How did Mom know about her relationship with Kang Ri-woo? Sae-ah recalled the past few weeks. Starting from the day she first met Kang Ri-woo. His warm hands. His sad eyes. And beneath them, something flowing that she still didn’t fully understand.
_Something deeper._
That thought kept surfacing.
## Part Two
Around 4 PM, Kang Ri-woo returned.
Sae-ah had been reading a book in the pension’s living room. But the words weren’t registering. She was reading the same sentence three, four times over. Not because she didn’t understand, but because she had no will to read.
When Kang Ri-woo entered, she closed the book. Quickly. So quickly that the bookmark fell out.
He was soaked. His clothes completely wet. Sand stuck to his body. Like someone who’d been submerged in the waves and crawled back out. As Sae-ah watched him, something cold slid down her spine.
“Hi. Am I late?”
Kang Ri-woo asked. His voice was as soft as ever. But his eyes were looking somewhere far away.
“No. It’s fine.”
Sae-ah answered. But her voice was full of lies.
Kang Ri-woo sat beside Sae-ah. Still in his wet clothes. Water began to pool on the sofa.
“Change your clothes.”
“Later.”
That’s all he said.
The two didn’t speak. They just sat. Sae-ah could see his profile. His nose. His jaw. And his eyes. There was something in those eyes. Tears? Or just seawater?
“I don’t think I can let you go.”
Kang Ri-woo finally spoke. His voice was very quiet. As if speaking to himself.
“I know.”
Sae-ah answered.
“Is that okay?”
“No.”
Sae-ah answered honestly. She couldn’t lie. Especially not now. After Mom’s call, Sae-ah wanted something clear. Truth. Honesty. Nothing else.
Kang Ri-woo laughed. That laugh wasn’t sad. It was a real laugh. One that came from the chest.
“You’re honest.”
“Yes.”
“I like that.”
Kang Ri-woo said.
Sae-ah sat beside him. The distance between them was about ten centimeters. Close enough to feel each other’s warmth. Yet far enough to see each other completely.
“What will you do tomorrow?”
Kang Ri-woo asked.
“I have to go back to Seoul. Mom…”
Sae-ah’s words trailed off. She didn’t know how to say it.
“Mom?”
“Mom said I should go alone.”
Sae-ah said.
Kang Ri-woo seemed to understand something as he heard this. His face changed. Something passed across it. Sadness? Fear? Or acceptance?
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Without that guy? Without me?”
Kang Ri-woo asked. And that question was also one he was asking himself.
“Yes.”
Sae-ah answered.
Kang Ri-woo looked down at his hands. The fingers. They were still trembling. But less than before. As if something were healing bit by bit. Or as if time was simply covering it up.
He raised his hands. And looked at Sae-ah.
“What can I do for you?”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
Sae-ah answered.
“Nothing?”
“No. Just stay like this.”
Sae-ah said. In that moment, her voice was full of longing. It wasn’t a request. It was a prayer.
Kang Ri-woo took Sae-ah’s hand. Different from yesterday. Yesterday’s hand had been one trying to save. A hand asking for help. A hand trying to hold onto someone.
But this hand was different. This hand simply wanted to be together. Not a hand meant to do something, but a hand meant to simply exist.
## Part Three
The two went to the beach again.
The sun had already passed its peak. 5 PM. The beach was emptying. A few people visible far away, but almost no one around them.
The waves still rolled in. Out. And would roll in again. It wouldn’t end. That was the sea.