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# Chapter 99: How to Let Burning Things Go
In front of the hospital entrance, Sea-ah felt the sunlight. It was near noon. The sunlight was cold. She had known for a long time that winter sunlight wasn’t warm—it was light without heat, an illusion that deceived the eye. Like Kang Ri-woo’s touch.
Ha-neul was calling a taxi. Her fingers moved rapidly across the screen. Ha-neul was someone who distinguished clearly between slow and fast matters. She applied patience to emotions but speed to action. That was how Ha-neul lived.
“Going home?”
Ha-neul asked.
Sea-ah heard the question while waiting for the taxi to appear. What was home? The semi-basement gosiwon in Hapjeong-dong? Her childhood home in Jeju? Or Kang Ri-woo’s house—no, that wasn’t her home anymore. None of them were. But where should it be? Where should she go?
“We need to go to the police station first.”
Sea-ah said.
Ha-neul lifted her head. Something crossed her face. Approval? No. Confirmation. Confirmation that Sea-ah was doing the right thing.
“And?”
Ha-neul asked.
“And then I’ll meet with a lawyer.”
Sea-ah said.
“After that?”
Ha-neul continued asking.
As Sea-ah heard these questions, she realized that her life had become sequential now. Each stage had to be completed before moving to the next. It was like a game. But it wasn’t a game. It was simply living—a different way of living.
“Then I’ll go to Jeju.”
Sea-ah said.
Ha-neul closed her eyes slowly as she heard this, as if it required physical rest.
“When?”
Ha-neul asked.
“After all the procedures are done.”
Sea-ah said.
A taxi appeared. A black Hyundai Sonata. The license plate started with 07. The taxi driver’s face wasn’t visible. The outside was too dark, or perhaps her eyes were too tired. Even in sunlight, she saw darkness.
As she got into the car, Sea-ah realized how exhausted she was. Exhaustion was weight. Weight that had penetrated into her very bones. As if she were underwater. In the deep sea. Where sunlight couldn’t reach.
The driver asked for the destination.
“Gangnam Police Station.”
Ha-neul said.
The driver said nothing. He simply started the car. Heading toward Gangnam. Sea-ah looked out the window. Seoul’s streets flowed past. People were walking. They all seemed alive. They all seemed to have destinations. But Sea-ah knew. They were also lost. They also didn’t know where they were going. They were simply moving. That was what it meant to live.
“What are you going to do?”
Sea-ah asked Ha-neul.
“What do you mean?”
Ha-neul asked.
“When I go to Jeju, what will you do?”
Sea-ah asked.
Ha-neul laughed as she heard the question. It wasn’t sad laughter. It was just laughter. Pure laughter. As if Sea-ah’s question were ridiculous.
“I’ll stay put. Here. At the tattoo shop. And I’ll think about what you’re doing in Jeju. And I’ll wait for when you come back.”
Ha-neul said.
As Sea-ah heard this, she realized how not alone she was. She thought she was alone, but she wasn’t. Ha-neul was there. She always had been. When Sea-ah left and when she returned.
“Thank you.”
Sea-ah said.
“For what?”
Ha-neul asked.
“For existing.”
Sea-ah said.
Ha-neul looked out the window as she heard this. Then she spoke.
“You’re a strange person. Really. Thanking someone? That’s just natural.”
Ha-neul said.
“It’s not natural.”
Sea-ah said.
“Fine. Let’s be mutually grateful then. You thank me. I thank you. Done.”
Ha-neul said.
The car continued forward, cutting through Seoul’s streets toward Gangnam. Sea-ah watched the scenery outside the window. Buildings were getting taller. Like money rising. Like power rising.
When they arrived in front of the Gangnam Police Station, Sea-ah felt her hands trembling. But this trembling was different from Kang Ri-woo’s. His trembling was fear. Hers was resolve.
When she entered the police station, there was a smell. A strong smell. Disinfectant and metal. And something more. Despair? No. More like complexity. A smell of many people’s stories mixed together.
The detective in charge was already waiting for Sea-ah. His name was Detective Park. He was in his early fifties. His face was one that had seen much. He seemed indifferent, but he actually seemed very attentive. It was a dangerous combination.
“Ms. Na Sea-ah, we meet again.”
Detective Park said.
Sea-ah had met this detective before. After reporting Kang Ri-woo. Her memory of that time was hazy. As if it were someone else’s memory. As if she’d watched a movie.
“Yes. Hello.”
Sea-ah said.
Detective Park led Sea-ah to an interrogation room. A small space. One table, two chairs. And a small recording device. Already running. As if it had been waiting for her words.
“First, I’d like to hear how you’ve been since the last incident.”
Detective Park said.
Sea-ah thought about how she’d been since hearing the question. She’d been in the hospital. She’d seen Kang Ri-woo. She’d talked to him. And she’d let him go. That was everything. But how could she explain it?
“I met Kang Ri-woo.”
Sea-ah said.
Detective Park began taking notes as he heard this. By hand. With a pen. The old way. But more accurate. Handwriting couldn’t lie. Hand movements reflected heart movements.
“Where?”
Detective Park asked.
“At the hospital. Gangnam Medical Center. Psychiatric ward.”
Sea-ah said.
“Alone?”
Detective Park asked.
“No. A friend was with me.”
Sea-ah said.
Detective Park continued taking notes. Then he asked.
“What did you talk about?”
Detective Park asked.
Sea-ah recalled her conversation with Kang Ri-woo as she heard the question. But it was difficult to tell. It was too personal. Too deep. Too true.
“We just… confirmed something.”
Sea-ah said.
“Confirmed what?”
Detective Park asked.
“That he’s insane. That he knew what he was trying to do. And that he regrets it.”
Sea-ah said.
Detective Park put down his pen as he heard this. He stopped taking notes. He looked at Sea-ah. What was that look? Pity? No. Confirmation. Confirmation that Sea-ah was telling the truth.
“Kang Ri-woo admitted his actions?”
Detective Park asked.
“Yes.”
Sea-ah said.
“And was that enough for you?”
Detective Park asked.
Sea-ah thought about why she’d come to the police station as she heard the question. Revenge? No. Justice? That wasn’t it either. Just… closure. The end of some story. The extinction of some flame.
“No.”
Sea-ah said.
“Then what do you need?”
Detective Park asked.
Sea-ah thought about that question. For a long time. A very long time. And she found her answer.
“I need a record. A record of what he did. And a record that it’s legally punished. I need that.”
Sea-ah said.
Detective Park began taking notes again as he heard this. Faster. More clearly. As if he knew how important Sea-ah’s words were.
“So you’re saying you’ll file a complaint?”
Detective Park asked.
“Yes.”
Sea-ah said.
“What are the charges?”
Detective Park asked.
Sea-ah listed exactly what Kang Ri-woo had done as she heard the question. Attempted murder. Violence. Threats. Confinement. And everything done in the name of love.
Detective Park noted it all. Then he asked.
“What about evidence?”
Detective Park asked.
Ha-neul stepped forward. She pointed to her arm with her finger from where she stood beside Sea-ah. Under the tattoo. What could be felt when Sea-ah touched that place. Scars. Tattoos. And the marks beneath them.
“There’s also medical records.”
Ha-neul said. “Everything should be recorded at the hospital. Emergency room records. Hospital admission records. Everything.”
Detective Park nodded as he heard this. Then he asked.
“Are you Ms. Na Sea-ah’s friend?”
Detective Park asked.
“Yes. My name is Oh Ha-neul.”
Ha-neul said.
“Ms. Oh, I think you could also be a witness.”
Detective Park said.
“Yes. I will be.”
Ha-neul said.
Sea-ah watched all of this. Her life was being officially recorded. Her suffering was being legally acknowledged. It was a strange feeling. As if she were receiving proof that she truly existed. As if her story was finally becoming real.
The interrogation continued for three hours. Sea-ah told everything. Starting from meeting Kang Ri-woo. The things that happened in his house. His control. His violence. And that last night. In the car. On the bridge over the Han River.
Detective Park listened to everything. Then he asked.
“You stopped Kang Ri-woo?”
Detective Park asked.
“Yes.”
Sea-ah said.
“How?”
Detective Park asked.
Sea-ah vividly recalled that moment as she heard the question. The car was moving. Kang Ri-woo’s hand was turning the wheel. And she threw herself forward. Her body. Her weight. She stopped the car with it.
“With my body.”
Sea-ah said.
Detective Park put down his pen as he heard this. He looked at Sea-ah. For a long time. A very long time. As if she were a different kind of human being.
“You’re a brave person.”
Detective Park said.
“I’m not.”
Sea-ah said.
“Then what are you?”
Detective Park asked.
Sea-ah thought about that question. Brave? No. Afraid? Yes. Desperate? That too. And…
“I wanted to live.”
Sea-ah said.
Detective Park nodded as he heard this. And he closed his notebook.
“Good. I’ll accept your complaint. And I’ll introduce you to a lawyer. A lawyer you need.”
Detective Park said.
As Sea-ah heard this, she felt something lifting from her shoulders. Weight. It lifted. Not completely, but somewhat. Just a little.
It was already evening when she left the police station. The sun was setting. The western sky turned orange. It was burning. Like someone’s heart.
Ha-neul called another taxi. This time without asking for a destination. With an expression as if anywhere would do.
“Where are we going?”
Sea-ah asked.
“We need to eat. When did you last have a meal?”
Ha-neul asked.
Sea-ah thought about when she’d last eaten as she heard the question. Yesterday? The day before? Her memory wasn’t clear. As if she hadn’t eaten. As if she hadn’t been alive.
“I don’t know.”
Sea-ah said.
“Then you need to start eating.”
Ha-neul said.
In the taxi, Ha-neul said to go to a small gukbap restaurant near Gangnam Station. Sea-ah heard the words. But she didn’t know where she was really going. She didn’t know where her body was going. As if she were separated from her body. As if she’d become a soul, looking down at herself from above.
When they arrived at the gukbap restaurant, Sea-ah smelled something. Salt. Meat. Rice. And something more. Warmth? No. Life. The smell of this place being alive.
Ha-neul ordered without looking at the menu.
“Two gukbap. And rolled omelet. And…”
Ha-neul said. “What will you eat, Sea-ah?”
“Anything’s fine.”
Sea-ah said.
“Don’t say anything’s fine. What do you want to eat?”
Ha-neul asked.
Sea-ah realized how strange it was to want something as she heard the question. To want. To choose. To have something of one’s own.
“I like gukbap.”
Sea-ah said.
“That’s what I’m talking about. Eat the rolled omelet too.”
Ha-neul said.
While they were eating, Sea-ah’s phone rang. An unknown number. But Sea-ah knew who it was. The lawyer. The lawyer Detective Park had introduced. Jo Sun-mi. A name that seemed strong just by itself.
Sea-ah answered the call.
“Hello? Is this Ms. Na Sea-ah?”
A voice was heard. A woman’s voice. Clear, warm, and direct without any pretense.
“Yes. Hello.”
Sea-ah said.
“I heard about your case from Detective Park. I’d like to become your lawyer. Is that okay?”
The lawyer asked.
“Yes. It’s fine.”
Sea-ah said.
“Good. Then let’s meet at my office at 2 p.m. tomorrow. I’ll send you the address by text. Any questions?”
The lawyer asked.
Sea-ah thought about whether she should ask something as she heard the question. The cost? The duration? The outcome?
“Can we win this case?”
Sea-ah asked.
The lawyer was silent for a moment. Then she spoke.
“Winning or losing isn’t what’s important. What’s important is that your story is recorded in court. That your existence is recorded. The rest comes after that.”
The lawyer said.
When those words ended, Sea-ah realized her eyes were wet. It was tears. But they weren’t sad tears. Just tears. As if her body were confirming her own existence.
After hanging up, Ha-neul asked.
“What did she say?”
Ha-neul asked.
“She’s the lawyer.”
Sea-ah said.
“Did she say something good?”
Ha-neul asked.
“Yes.”
Sea-ah said.
Ha-neul continued drinking her gukbap as she heard this. Then she said.
“Then we’ll win. You’re proving that you exist. That’s winning.”
Ha-neul said.
When night fell, Sea-ah and Ha-neul were in a taxi. This time heading toward Hapjeong-dong. Sea-ah’s gosiwon. She didn’t know if that was her home, but at least it was where she should be.
Seoul’s nightscape flowed past the car window. Lights. Millions of lights. Behind each light was someone. Someone’s life. Someone’s burning.
When they arrived in front of the gosiwon, Sea-ah didn’t get out of the car.
“But what are you going to do?”
Sea-ah asked Ha-neul.
“Me? I’m going home. I have work tomorrow.”
Ha-neul said.
“No. You asked me before what I would do after going to Jeju.”
Sea-ah said.
Ha-neul looked out the window as she heard this. The nightscape of Hapjeong-dong. That was their home. The closest place to Hongdae. A place where music and art flowed.
“I’ll stay here. At the tattoo shop. And I’ll keep the door open for anyone to come. Especially for people like you who are burnt out.”
Ha-neul said.
Sea-ah heard these words. And she realized how lucky she was. Someone reaching out their hand even in despair. Someone warming her even when she was burnt. How rare that was.
“Thank you.”
Sea-ah said.
“Again with that? I said mutual gratitude.”
Ha-neul said.
“Even so.”
Sea-ah said.
Ha-neul laughed. Real laughter. It filled the car. Like light.
When she entered the gosiwon, Sea-ah felt how small her room was again. But it wasn’t as desperate as when she first came. Now it was just a small room. Her room. Her place.
As she opened the door and went inside, Sea-ah felt something. Change. A very small change. As if the air were flowing differently. As if she had become a different person.
When she lay down on the bed, she looked at the ceiling. What was above that ceiling? Someone else? Another gosiwon resident? Or just the sky?
She counted her fingers. One, two, three, four, five. Left hand. And right hand. Ten fingers. Ten chances. Ten choices.
What was she going to do now? She was going to court. She was going to meet the lawyer. And she was going to finish all the procedures. After that, she would go to Jeju. She would see her mother. She would see Do-hyun.
But after all of that was done?
That question hung in the ceiling. Without an answer. Like a flame. Still burning. Still not extinguished.
At 2 a.m., Sea-ah woke up. She had dreamed. A dream of Kang Ri-woo. No, not a dream where Kang Ri-woo appeared. A dream without him. A dream of wandering alone somewhere. But it wasn’t a scary dream. Just a dream of being lost. And a dream where she knew that being lost wasn’t so bad.
She picked up her phone. There was one message.
‘See you tomorrow. Fighting. – Lawyer Jo Sun-mi’
Sea-ah saw the message. And she slowly smiled. A small smile. But a real one.
She was still burning. But now it was a different kind of fire. Not fire that destroyed her, but fire that illuminated her. Fire that kept her alive.
That fire would not go out.
# The Language of Fire
## Part 1: The City Beyond the Window
Ha-neul’s words lingered in the air. Sea-ah received them with her whole body and slowly turned her gaze toward the window.
The nightscape of Hapjeong-dong spread before her.
Neon signs were glittering. Faint music drifted from somewhere in an alley. It probably came from some bar, some club, or some café. This was that kind of place. A place that woke up when night fell. Alleys that were quiet during the day gained color when night came.
That was their home.
Sea-ah reflected on this fact once more. Not just ‘a place to stay,’ but a place that could be called ‘home.’ Would that have been possible before?
She saw her face reflected in the window. A face drained of color. Eyes sunken. But now, in this moment, there was something different from a few days ago. Something faint but unmistakable.
“I’ll stay here.”
Ha-neul said. Her voice sounded like a promise. No, like a vow. Like a sacred oath.
“At the tattoo shop. And I’ll keep the door open for anyone to come.”
Sea-ah looked at Ha-neul’s profile. She observed how the light fell on Ha-neul’s face. The blue neon light grazed Ha-neul’s cheekbones. The orange light lit her forehead. That face wasn’t simple. It was a face with determination.
“Especially for people like you who are burnt out.”
At the moment those words fell, something rang deep in Sea-ah’s chest. Like a bell. The sound of a bell that hadn’t rung in a long time finally ringing again.
A burnt person.
Yes. She was burnt. By the fire called Kang Ri-woo, by her own choices, by her own mistakes. That fire had burnt her skin. It had burnt her mind. It had burnt everything.
But now, in this moment, she realized that someone was looking at her. Someone who didn’t turn away even seeing her burnt form. Someone who actually reached out their hand.
“Thank you.”
Sea-ah said. She felt her voice trembling as she spoke.
“Again?”
Ha-neul said with a laugh.
“I said mutual gratitude. You thank me, so don’t thank me. I received something from you.”
Ha-neul’s words were right. Logically and emotionally. But Sea-ah couldn’t stop thanking her anyway. Because that gratitude wasn’t mere politeness. It was gratitude for life. Gratitude for being given breath again.
“Even so.”
Sea-ah said quietly.
Ha-neul nodded as she heard this. And she laughed.
It wasn’t forced laughter. It wasn’t laughter for comfort. It was real laughter. The kind that rises from the belly, the kind you can’t stop.
That laughter filled the car. It filled the small space. It spread like light.
Sea-ah laughed too. For the first time, really, with laughter that came from deep within her heart.
So the two of them shared laughter, looking at the nightscape of Hapjeong-dong.
## Part 2: The Small Room
It was 3 a.m. when they returned to the gosiwon.
As she climbed the stairs, Sea-ah heard footsteps. The sound her own footsteps made. The wooden stairs groaning. And somewhere above, the sound of someone snoring.
This was still a gosiwon. The smell, the texture, the atmosphere—all of it.
But something was different.
When she opened the door to her room, Sea-ah felt its smallness again. One window. One bed. One desk. And a wire holding one or two pieces of clothing.
There was a time when she first felt how small this room was. When she first came to the city. When she ran away from Kang Ri-woo. When she lay in this small room in despair.
Back then, the room had felt like a tomb. A dark tomb that would swallow her.
But it was different now.
Now it was simply a ‘small room.’ No longer a tomb. Just her space. Her territory. A place where she could be.
As she opened the door and went inside, Sea-ah felt something.
Change.
A very small change. So small it was barely noticeable. But a definite change.
As if the air were flowing differently. As if she had become a different person.
She lay down on the bed.
She looked at the ceiling. An old ceiling. It had marks on it. The stains of water someone had spilled long ago. The blotches of mold from moisture. The traces of cigarette ash someone had thrown.
What was above that ceiling?
Someone else? Another gosiwon resident? Or just the sky?
Sea-ah began counting her fingers. For no particular reason. Just because she felt like she needed to do something.
“One.”
Her left thumb appeared.
“Two.”
Index finger.
“Three.”
Middle finger.
“Four.”
Ring finger.
“Five.”
Pinky.
And the right hand.
“Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.”
Ten fingers. Ten chances. Ten choices.
No matter how much she thought about it, it was strange logic. But in this moment, it felt right.
What was she going to do now?
She was going to go to court. She was going to meet lawyer Jo Sun-mi. She would tell her story once more. What Kang Ri-woo did. Why she made that choice.
And she would finish all the procedures.
After that, she would go to Jeju. By bus or plane. She would meet her mother. She would see her mother’s face, changed by time. How would her mother look at her?
She would also meet Do-hyun. How old would Do-hyun be now? Would he remember her? Or would he see her as a stranger?
When she thought of all these things, Sea-ah’s heart sank.
But after all of that was done?
That question hung in the ceiling. Without an answer. Like a flame. Still burning. Still not extinguished.
Where would she go? What would she do? How would she live?
Such questions kept rising.
But in this moment, Sea-ah decided not to avoid those questions. Instead, she decided to face them. Slowly. Step by step.
## Part 3: Dreams and Awakening
Sea-ah woke up at 2 a.m.
She had dreamed.
The content of the dream wasn’t clear. Most dreams are like that. The moment you wake up, they lose their concrete form. Like bubbles on water.
But one thing was certain.
Kang Ri-woo wasn’t in that dream.
More precisely, it wasn’t a dream where Kang Ri-woo appeared. It wasn’t a dream where she saw his face. It wasn’t a dream where she was caught by his hands.
It was a dream of her wandering alone somewhere.
A maze-like alley.