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# Chapter 86: The Weight of the Road Home
The Jeju sea grew smaller in the bus window. Sae-ah rested her forehead against the glass. It was cold, and the ocean drifted further away. Her mother hadn’t cried when she let Sae-ah go at the terminal. Instead, she placed her hand on Sae-ah’s shoulder. A single touch, brief but deliberate, before she turned and left. The weight of that hand lingered still.
The bus was climbing a mountain. The low hills of Jeju looked like someone’s hunched back—shoulders bent from decades of endurance. Sae-ah thought of her mother watching those hills. Her mother was like those mountains. Quiet, immovable, but always there.
Her phone rang. It was Haneul. Before answering, Sae-ah took a deep breath. Haneul knew she was in Jeju. Her mother must have told her. Haneul was Sae-ah’s oldest friend. They’d met in that small underground tattoo parlor in high school. It was the only place where Sae-ah could shed all her lies.
“So you actually went to Jeju? What were you doing there?”
Haneul’s voice was always the same—direct, cold, but wrapped around with concern.
“Yes. I’m heading back now.”
Sae-ah spoke quietly. Still.
“Back? To Seoul? To that bastard Kang Ri-u? Or something else?”
Haneul asked. Through the phone, Haneul was probably sitting in the tattoo chair, foot tapping against something, cigarette in hand. While Sae-ah was gone from Seoul, Haneul had been there in that same spot, etching permanence into someone else’s skin.
“Not to Kang Ri-u. I need to find somewhere else.”
Sae-ah said.
“Where?”
“A music studio. I’m going to start my music again.”
It took tremendous courage to say those words. Sae-ah had never told anyone she made music. It was too big. Too heavy. Speaking it aloud would make it real, and reality meant the possibility of failure.
“Music? Seriously? You’re insane.”
Haneul laughed. It wasn’t mockery. Sae-ah understood the meaning behind that laugh. It was a laugh that said finally.
“But how will you manage? Money? Work?”
Haneul asked the practical questions. She always did. She wasn’t the type to just listen to dreams—she looked at the reality behind them too.
“I’m going back to the convenience store. The GS25 where I used to work.”
“That one in Hongdae?”
“Yes.”
“But won’t that bastard Kang Ri-u cause problems? He’s a JYA heir.”
Haneul pointed out what was obvious.
“I’m… not sure yet. But my mom told me to go.”
Sae-ah said.
Silence came through the phone. A long silence. Haneul was someone who always talked, so her silence meant she was thinking deeply.
“Is your mom something special?”
Haneul finally asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. When I hear your mom talk, it’s like… she just knows. What you need to do, where you need to go. Like she’s already seen it all.”
Sae-ah didn’t answer. She couldn’t explain her mother in words. Her mother was a person who could only be understood through action. Through her hands, her silence, her eyes.
“You’ll be in Seoul by tomorrow, right?”
“Yes. I should arrive by evening.”
“I’ll pick you up then. Airport?”
“Gangnam Station.”
“Got it. And you…”
Haneul trailed off. She was wrestling with whether to say something.
“What?”
“That bastard Kang Ri-u. After you left, he came here looking for you. Walking around your old alley everywhere. And he called you. Dozens of times. Hundreds of times. Did you know that?”
Sae-ah’s body stiffened.
“But the good news is, when you didn’t answer, he gave up and left. Eventually he went to the school where Do-hyun’s at. Asked your mom about you. Though she wouldn’t have told him anything.”
“What about Do-hyun…?”
Sae-ah asked.
“Do-hyun’s fine. He looked angry at you, but he was actually waiting for you. The whole time. Every day. You just didn’t know.”
Haneul said.
The bus passed through a tunnel. Darkness. Then light again. The cycle repeated.
“Where is Kang Ri-u now?”
Sae-ah asked.
“You know? His face fell apart. Because of you. Seriously. He said his piano hands were shaking, so he drank. He wandered the streets. And…”
“And?”
“And he left JYA. Gave up his position. His father was furious. His son, a chaebol heir, quit his job at the music company to do… something.”
Sae-ah didn’t know what to feel. Guilt? Relief? Both?
“There’s one more thing.”
Haneul said.
“What?”
“Park So-jin. That idol. The one who sang your songs. She gave an interview. Said the song wasn’t hers. That there’s someone who wrote it. She didn’t say the name, but it’s obviously about you. Did you know?”
Sae-ah didn’t. While she was in Jeju eating with her mother, the world had been turning.
“Articles are floating around. About copyright issues in the music industry. And…”
“And?”
“And JYA terminated Park So-jin’s contract. Said she was too vocal about her rights. That the company doesn’t need artists like that.”
Sae-ah’s chest sank when she heard that. Park So-jin was paying a price for protecting Sae-ah’s music. She was losing something to stand up for what was right.
“Where is Park So-jin now?”
“Know what? She’s alone now. Like you. But unlike you, she fights. For her rights. For her voice.”
Haneul said.
“I need to meet her.”
Sae-ah said.
“Of course. You two shared the same song. You two went through the same thing with that bastard Kang Ri-u. I think you two could do something.”
The bus was climbing another mountain. No longer Jeju’s hills, but the mainland’s. They were getting closer to Seoul.
“Haneul, thank you.”
Sae-ah said.
“What are you talking about? We’re friends. But promise me one thing. This time, don’t run away.”
Haneul said.
“I won’t. This time, I won’t run away.”
Sae-ah said.
But Sae-ah knew how difficult that promise was. How easy it was to run. How hard it was to stay.
The bus kept going. Jeju’s sky grew smaller in the distance. Sae-ah pressed her hand against the window. The glass was cold, her hand warm. The difference created condensation, tiny droplets forming. Jeju reflected in those droplets.
It was past 9 PM when the bus arrived at Gangnam Station. Haneul’s car was waiting. Black. She sat in the driver’s seat, smoking. When she saw Sae-ah, she flicked the cigarette out the window.
“Hey, you’ve lost weight. What did you do?”
Haneul said.
“I just… stayed still.”
“You lose weight like that? It’s your mom, isn’t it? Your mom did something to you.”
Haneul said accurately. Her mother had taken something from Sae-ah. No, exactly—she had stripped away everything Sae-ah had been clinging to. All the lies. All the running. All the self-deception. Everything.
The car headed toward Hongdae. They passed the convenience store where Sae-ah had worked. The GS25 was brightly lit. It was past 11 PM, but people were still coming and going. It operated 24 hours that way. With or without Sae-ah, at the same relentless pace.
“You’re really going back to that convenience store?”
Haneul asked.
“Yes. I’ll call the manager tomorrow.”
“Oh, and this.”
Haneul turned the car toward the underground tattoo shop. The small basement room. Sae-ah remembered the pain of the needle piercing her skin. But it wasn’t a bad pain. It was proof that she was alive.
“What?”
Sae-ah asked.
“Come in.”
Haneul said.
Someone was sitting in the small basement room. A woman in jeans. Black hair. A familiar face. Park So-jin.
“Hello.”
Park So-jin stood and greeted her. Her voice was quiet and polite. But her eyes were certain. Eyes that wanted something. Eyes that wanted to change something.
“How…?”
Sae-ah asked.
“I found her online. Kang Ri-u had given Park So-jin contact information. And she reached out to me. Said she absolutely had to meet you. That you needed to talk about the song.”
Haneul said.
Sae-ah looked at Park So-jin. The face she’d seen on television and radio was sitting right here. But this Park So-jin was different from the one on screen. This one looked lonely. Like Sae-ah.
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
Park So-jin said.
“For what?”
Sae-ah asked.
“While I was singing your song, I didn’t know your name. The contract said ‘in-house composition team.’ But something felt wrong. The song was too deep. Too personal. I realized a song like that couldn’t come from a company composition team.”
Park So-jin continued.
“So I started investigating. And I found out. That you sold the song through someone named Kang Ri-u. That you gave it away without your name.”
Sae-ah met Park So-jin’s eyes. There was no hatred in them. Only understanding.
“Let’s fight together.”
Park So-jin said.
“What do you mean?”
Sae-ah asked.
“Get your copyright back. Reclaim your name. While protecting mine.”
Park So-jin said.
For the first time, Sae-ah felt someone else wanting to help her reclaim her name. Not herself, but someone else. And that someone had been wounded by the same person.
“Let’s fight together.”
Sae-ah said.
“Yeah.”
Haneul said. And she laughed. It was the laugh of someone declaring war.
When the bus arrived at Gangnam Station in Seoul, Sae-ah realized she had become a completely different person. Or rather, she realized she had always been that person. She was just now beginning to acknowledge it.
The last thing her mother had said to her in Jeju was this:
“You can’t keep living here. You’re a flame. Flames only shine in darkness. And that light isn’t just for yourself—it can warm someone else too.”
Now, Sae-ah understood those words. To be a flame. Not burning alone, but burning together with someone else. That was the true meaning of being a flame.
In the underground passage of Gangnam Station, Sae-ah picked up her phone. And she sent a message to Do-hyun:
“Oppa, I’m sorry. I’ll be there soon. Take care of yourself until then. When I get back, we’ll do something together.”
Do-hyun’s reply came immediately:
“Noona ㅠ Finally you sound normal. I’ll wait. But are we really going to kill that bastard Kang Ri-u? I’ll help.”
Sae-ah laughed. The reckless courage of a 16-year-old boy. That wasn’t so bad.
# [Next Chapter Preview]
Kang Ri-u finds Sae-ah after she returns from Jeju. But this time, Sae-ah isn’t alone. Haneul, Park So-jin, and Do-hyun. People gathered around Sae-ah. Kang Ri-u realizes he cannot control what he has created. And Sae-ah speaks back for the first time in her own voice.