Chapter 2
The moment Da-eun thought she wanted to see Hye-young’s expression up close, her soul began to drift forward.
“……”
Hye-young’s face was complicated.
There was confusion from the unexpected accident on set, frustration at having to find a new double because the shoot couldn’t be finished, and a faint trace of fear from standing before a corpse.
But nowhere in that expression was there even a flicker of grief over a friend’s death.
“Hey, Kang Da-eun.”
Hye-young crossed one leg over the other and called her name. Of course, a dead woman could not answer.
“She really died, huh.”
There was a sneer hidden in Hye-young’s voice, and Da-eun’s expression twisted.
She couldn’t understand why Hye-young was acting like this.
Why? They’d been closer than anyone.
Then Hye-young sighed softly and spoke.
“Well. Since it’s the last time…”
She glanced around the empty room, then looked toward the door.
“I’m sorry.”
It was an apology Da-eun couldn’t understand. Hye-young said “sorry,” yet the corners of her lips twisted upward.
Then came the faint sound of a deflating laugh. Hye-young’s mouth curled into a smirk.
“That scar, you know.”
The smile that Da-eun once thought so beautiful now looked grotesquely split. Hye-young rose and reached out her hand.
The white sheet covering Da-eun was pulled away, revealing her lifeless, pale face—bloodless after the fall.
“……”
The burn scar covering half her face looked almost like the wrinkled skin of an old man.
Hye-young studied it carefully.
The melted patches, the cracked areas like parched earth, the places where raw flesh had burst and healed unevenly.
Her gaze sparkled as if admiring a piece of art. Then she wrinkled her nose and said,
“That burn scar? That’s my handiwork.”
The hospital room was silent, as though her words couldn’t affect the world at all. The one person who could hold her accountable was already dead.
“Hahaha!”
After a short pause, Hye-young suddenly laughed again, then stood and approached the body by the window.
“I do have a conscience, you know. I felt a little bad.”
She sat down in front of her dead friend again, never imagining that Da-eun might actually be listening.
“To be honest, I didn’t think you’d get hurt that badly.”
Three years ago, Da-eun had been left with permanent scars on her left face and arm after a gas burner explosion.
“That script, <Secret Message>, I wanted that role. But I didn’t think I could beat you.”
Hye-young twitched her fingers—a habit she had when she was nervous. Da-eun recognized it instantly.
“Anyway, it was just the two of us auditioning.”
Trying to calm herself, Hye-young took out a cigarette. She didn’t light it—just chewed at it between her teeth.
“If you couldn’t show up, then it would be mine, right?”
And that’s exactly what happened. Da-eun was injured and couldn’t attend the audition. Naturally, the role went to Hye-young.
“Thanks to you, I debuted. Thanks to you, I made it this far.”
Hye-young wrinkled her nose again, that same gesture she made when she was happy. Dark tears rolled down Da-eun’s cheeks.
She remembered how back then, Hye-young had cried for her—crying like it was her own pain, furious and heartbroken over her injury.
Da-eun, oh my god, are you okay? We were supposed to debut together—what are we going to do…?
Da-eun had thought her sadness was genuine. But it was all a lie?
Her chest felt tight, like her heart was locked in a vice.
It was strange. She was already dead—so why did breathing hurt? When she looked down, a dark crack was spreading across her chest, pulsing like it was filled with ink.
“After the accident, the way you clung to me—like I was your lifeline—was actually kind of satisfying.”
Hye-young set down the chewed cigarette and blew out an imaginary puff of smoke.
Her breath brushed against Da-eun’s ghostly face.
“You know, while I’m confessing… there’s something else.”
Hye-young pursed her lips, thinking for a moment, then leaned down to whisper beside the corpse’s ear.
“Remember our third-year final performance exam? When you got hurt?”
Third year? Da-eun’s eyes twitched.
Their final exam had been a play. Da-eun was the lead, until a week before the evaluation—when she broke her leg. She had to give up the role, and it went to Hye-young instead.
Hye-young smirked.
“I didn’t plan it, but after you got hurt, things went great for me.”
There was a steep set of stairs on campus nicknamed Heaven’s Stairway—everyone had to climb it to reach the arts building.
It had snowed early that winter, the steps frozen slick. Everyone was walking carefully.
Laughing too loudly, Hye-young had nudged another friend with her elbow. That’s when it happened.
While pretending to help her slipping friend, she had also “accidentally” stumbled—and Da-eun, tripped by her foot, fell all the way down the stairs.
The other friend was fine. But Da-eun had to walk on crutches for months.
“She was getting on my nerves, so I meant to scare her, but… I didn’t think you would be the one to fall.”
Hye-young rubbed her chin thoughtfully, then grinned.
“If I’d known, I would’ve pushed harder.”
She giggled as if it were a joke, stood up, and glanced down at Da-eun with dark eyes.
“Feels good to get that secret off my chest.”
Click, click.
Her heels echoed as she walked to the door.
“I can’t even say goodbye. I raised you as my stand-in, and then you had to go and die on me. How inconvenient.”
Clack—
When the hospital door opened, her manager hurried over from nearby.
“Are you all right, Miss?”
“Ah… thank you. I finally got to say goodbye to Da-eun…”
Her eyes reddened as she trembled, clutching her manager’s arm. Her whole body shook as she pretended to regain her composure.
The medical staff nearby bowed their heads, their faces heavy with pity—for their failure to save a life.
Clack—
The door closed again.
An hour later, the quiet hallway echoed with the doctor’s order to transfer the body to the morgue.
“……”
Da-eun stared blankly at the spot where Hye-young had been sitting. The sky outside was bright, the wind strong enough to shake the branches violently.
She had already fallen to her death—so why did it feel like she was still falling?
The blackness in her chest swelled, the crack spreading wider.
Her whole being seemed to melt, as though she were back in that moment of the fire—her spirit oozing away like a half-collapsed cake.
[Oh dear.]
The window was closed, yet a breeze blew through the room, wrapping gently around her soul.
[So you’ve ended up like this while my eyes were elsewhere.]
The soft wind swirled warmly, and Da-eun’s melting form solidified again.
[Hmm. This didn’t happen last time. Butterfly effect, perhaps.]
The breeze murmured in front of her. The voice was neither young nor old. Though formless, Da-eun could feel its unseen gaze upon the dark fissure in her chest.
[All right. I’ll grant you a chance too. Fairness demands equal opportunity. I shall turn back time.]
The dark tears streaming down Da-eun’s face stilled. Her eyes regained focus. A quiet chuckle rippled through the air.
[Do you accept?]
Turn back time? How far? Could she go back to before the fire?
Even before she asked, she somehow knew it was possible.
‘Yes,’ she answered without hesitation.
She felt the presence nod solemnly.
[For every chance, there must be a price. Will you pay it?]
A price? Da-eun hesitated.
‘I’m already dead. I have nothing left to give.’
The wind circled her gently, laughing like a cool spring breeze. A tender touch brushed her chest, and the black ripples there began to shine brilliantly.
[Then take this. Ah, your greatest piece was ‘—’. How precious indeed.]
Light streamed out of Da-eun’s body and flowed into the wind.
‘—’? What was that? The light grew stronger, flooding her vision with white.
[Come back to reclaim your ‘—’. I’ll be waiting.]
The kind voice echoed in her ears.
Her sight cleared—the white faded—and she felt the blazing heat and heard the cicadas screaming.
Fssshhh!
A sinister hiss and the acrid stench of smoke hit her nose.
“Ah…!”
Da-eun shot upright, dizzy, and collapsed back down.
Three years ago.
She had returned to the day of the gas explosion.
