CHAPTER 56………………………………………….
“They said getting your condition stable is the top priority. Rehab, surgery—none of it can move forward until your body recovers properly. You heard it yourself, so why aren’t you eating or resting?”
Hyun‑ha approached and stroked Young‑in’s hair. It was something she often did before, but Young‑in shuddered violently and pulled away.
“Just focus on recovering for now. Once you’re well enough, we’ll go to the U.S. for the next surgery.”
As if oblivious to her gestures of refusal, Hyun‑ha continued to coax her. She had already secured a surgeon. Whether Young‑in could ever fully recover was another matter entirely.
“Once I’m well enough?”
Young‑in let out a sharp, nervous laugh. It was an expression Hyun‑ha had never seen before.
It was a face Baek Young‑in from when they first met would never have made. Seeing her cracked and splintering made Hyun‑ha’s chest twist.
“Choi Hyun‑ha. Are you seriously insane?”
The skin beneath her eyes was flushed as if she had been crying. Hyun‑ha already knew why they were red.
“I can’t even play anymore. Just… throw me away.”
Young‑in held out her hands. The hands still wrapped in rehab bandages trembled, unable even to hold themselves steady in the air.
“I’m useless. These hands are ruined anyway. Forget surgery—just let me get away from you.”
Her voice rose as if she were about to scream, then cracked. For the first time, Hyun‑ha’s calm expression faltered.
Hyun‑ha sighed as she looked down at Young‑in, who couldn’t even get out of the chair on her own. She bent down to meet her gaze, and Young‑in glared up at her.
“Before I have to feed you through a tube, eat with your own mouth, Young‑in. It’s not that you can’t—you’re just not doing it.”
Hyun‑ha lightly patted her cheek.
Even with the threat, Young‑in didn’t withdraw her icy stare. The tension between them pulled taut like an invisible fishing line stretched at both ends.
“You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”
The insomnia that left Hyun‑ha had clung to Young‑in instead. While Young‑in, unable even to properly grasp objects, lay awake, Hyun‑ha slept soundly at her side.
When she lay beside her and listened to her heartbeat, sleep crept in like after hearing a grand performance.
Hyun‑ha knew how to make her sleep.
“I’ll put you to sleep.”
She lifted the hem of Young‑in’s skirt and kissed her knee as she spoke.
“No…!”
Young‑in tried to get off the chair, scrambling to get anywhere Hyun‑ha couldn’t reach. As always, it ended with Young‑in trapped in Hyun‑ha’s arms.
Her thin limbs kicked and struck her, but Hyun‑ha handled her easily. It wasn’t even enough to tickle.
“Baek Young‑in.”
Even when Hyun‑ha called her name, Young‑in didn’t look at her. Her blurred gaze wandered somewhere far away.
My poor first love.
Hyun‑ha smiled.
At least for Choi Hyun‑ha, fate wasn’t something she wanted to escape. It was something she wanted to surrender to.
Something she wanted to be swept away by. No matter where it led her. Endlessly.
Sleep was the poison Hyun‑ha fed her.
Young‑in drank the poison he offered, and in the end became dependent on it, unable to survive on her own.
The moment she woke up in bed, she slipped her feet into her slippers. The soft cushioning wrapped her soles, but she frowned as if she’d stepped on thorns.
Her days were so empty that time was meaningless. It had been similar when she was locked up in the mansion, but at least this place was open, bright, without that oppressive gloom.
The biggest difference was the piano. Here, Young‑in did not play. She didn’t need to play Hyun‑ha to sleep every day. More accurately—she couldn’t anymore. There was nothing she had to do. Nothing she could do.
She didn’t have to play the piano anymore. A sentence that once felt liberating now tightened around her throat like a noose.
Walking out of the open villa toward the outdoor pool, Young‑in blinked her hazy eyes. The cleanly paved path looked crooked and winding.
Why? Wasn’t this not the place she was supposed to be? The confusion hit her like reaching a dead end after running full speed. This was not where Baek Young‑in belonged.
Young‑in knew she would have done well. Her playing would never have faded. She could have overwhelmed the world, lifted audiences to their feet, and the notes would never have abandoned her. Baek Young‑in’s music might have lived a hundred years.
Her playing would never fail. She was better than anyone her age, and her effort would never be ignored. She came from a different world than those who could practice until their fingers were worn to the bone and still never come close.
She could go as far as she wanted. The piano had chosen her.
Young‑in stretched out her arm and looked at the ten lumps of flesh attached to it. Once the bandages came off, the surgical scars would show—red lines barely holding flesh together like a brand.
Beyond her fingers, the pool water shimmered with countless reflections. It looked like a metaphor for light she could never grasp again.
What reason was left to live like this?
She couldn’t even play piano anymore.
Was she waiting for the overseas surgery Hyun‑ha promised? Or was it just some pathetic survival instinct clinging to life?
Or was she already dying?
Young‑in looked up at the sky. The sun blazed bright, but she felt no warmth. She lay down on her side beside the pool.
All she had to do was roll forward and fall. She could die. Just sink without swimming. Just a little push…
She pressed her palm to the ground. A faint pain spread from it. If she pushed, that would be enough.
“What are you doing?”
A shadow fell over her. A caregiver in neat, dark gray clothing looked down at her.
“You shouldn’t lie on the cold ground. You’re still not well.”
Hearing the gentle scolding, Young‑in let all strength drain from her limbs. The moment to fall had passed. It always slipped away like this.
“If you stay like that, you’ll fall in. Come up and lie down.”
The caregiver helped her up to the sunbed. Young‑in didn’t resist. She didn’t have the strength to push away anyone who wasn’t Hyun‑ha.
Here, everyone handled her like a glass doll—terrified she might shatter. It didn’t feel like talking to living people at all.
“Miss, try drinking this.”
Supporting her like a child, the caregiver handed her a cold drink. Fresh pulp floated in the juice with a straw. The strawberry wedged between cracked ice looked like a piece of torn flesh, and Young‑in grimaced.
“I’ll drink it later.”
Even after she refused, the caregiver didn’t leave. Did Hyun‑ha tell her to make sure Young‑in drank it no matter what? Just as Young‑in frowned, the caregiver set down the glass and held out a phone instead.
“This call.”
It wasn’t a smartphone but a very old model. Puzzled, Young‑in looked up, and the caregiver lowered her voice.
“If you answer it, you can leave here.”
A sense of déjà vu.
The memory of curling herself into a car trunk flashed through her. Young‑in narrowed her eyes.
She already knew who was calling before answering.
She should have been shocked, but she wasn’t. She didn’t even have the energy for it. At this point, even if her dead father returned, she felt she’d just stare blankly.
Young‑in took the phone.
— If you listen to this call to the end, you’ll live, Baek Young‑in.
No twist. Just as expected. It was Seok Juran’s voice, hoarse and scraped.
“Calling to turn yourself in?”
Young‑in answered dryly. She couldn’t think of anyone but her who would contact her like this.
“You’re really good at buying people off.”
She took the call out of curiosity, not hope. She wondered why Seok Juran, on the run, would go so far as to contact her through someone else.
“So? How exactly are you planning to save me?”
How could someone who was also running from Hyun‑ha possibly save Young‑in? Did she not hear how absurd she sounded?
Thinking more cynically than ever, Young‑in tapped the phone lightly. The sound would carry to the other end. If she didn’t like the answer, she would hang up immediately.
— Listen to me. There were reasons for everything.
“Reasons to stab your own son? Or reasons to ruin my hands?”
Young‑in laughed coldly. She felt nothing, so she couldn’t be shaken or hurt. For the first time in her life, she felt a hollow kind of freedom.
— If I hadn’t made the first move, Hyun‑ha would’ve killed him. I stabbed him to live. It was self‑defense.
“You’re completely insane.”
Young‑in burst out laughing. For a moment, her soft laugh reminded her of Hyun‑ha, but she ignored it. People resemble what they love—and what they hate.
— Are you naïve? After everything he’s done to you, you still don’t know him. He would’ve killed you. Or made you wish you were dead.
“Ms. Seok Juran, why would Choi Hyun‑ha do that to his own mother?”
Why would Hyun‑ha do that to me?
Young‑in had said the exact same words when talking to Im Kwon‑ho, who had told her to leave Hyun‑ha.
— Because he laid hands on you.
