The train rattled and raced quickly along the tracks. Hyunseo sat in her seat, dazed.

She wasn’t in a state to feel tired or anything else. She knew all too well why she couldn’t sleep. 

Because she’d obviously dream of Gyeom. Because she’d be swept up in that strange, peculiar feeling again.

‘I hope you do. Time to play with me.’

Why on earth?

Why would he say something like that?

With a shallow sigh, she leaned her forehead against the glass window. The day was overcast. 

Her eyes, fixed on the scenery outside the train window, weren’t actually seeing anything. Whatever she looked at, only Gyeom’s image appeared over it without fail.

She couldn’t erase it. She’d already tried countless times. No matter how hard she tried not to think about it, he filled her head completely. 

Thanks to that, Hyunseo had to endlessly repeat falling asleep and waking up all night.

What would have happened? 

If she hadn’t answered that phone call from Gyeom then. If he hadn’t left right after answering, acting like nothing had happened, what would have occurred afterward?

She didn’t understand. Why was she still dwelling on words that were obviously empty? What was so special about them?

Words he must have casually tossed out without much thought, words the person himself had probably already completely forgotten—why?

Right.

What was so special about them? Foolishly.

Hyunseo struggled to gather her unsettled heart. She couldn’t do anything about her pounding heart though.

Her ears felt stuffy. To make her flutter this much with just an afterimage—it was certain that Gyeom wasn’t an ordinary person.

She fiddled with her innocent neck. It was hot from the heat that had risen.

She’d thought there wouldn’t even be a chance to have a conversation. Perhaps the shock was great because it was a meeting with someone she’d determined she’d absolutely never associate with in her life. Hyunseo found Gyeom’s face, which kept surfacing, unbearably burdensome. 

Just a few times, physically speaking only a few dozen minutes, had remained more strongly than any other memory in her life.

Perhaps if she ended up spending more time with him, she might never be able to escape.

Of course, that wouldn’t happen. She thought it wouldn’t.

A simple truth she suddenly realized. He probably thought that way too. Perhaps he’d casually said whatever came to mind without burden, thinking she was a contract worker so they wouldn’t see each other long anyway.

Hyunseo thought that was bitter yet natural. She was also somewhat relieved. Because it seemed like he, who had wanted to destroy himself, had forgotten reality for a moment. 

Though she had no idea what was troubling him.

“Where to, ma’am?”

“To OO Hospital, please.”

Getting off the train and passing through the station, she only realized after boarding a taxi. That she herself had completely forgotten her painful reality. It was thanks to thinking of Gyeom constantly the entire way.

The day was still overcast. Even though it was broad daylight, the thick dark clouds made it hard to guess the time—they looked ominous. 

Belatedly checking the weather forecast that said there would be showers in some areas, she quietly gazed beyond the dim car window. 

Remembering she was heading to Gangseok, her mood rapidly sank.

She hoped he’d be asleep. She didn’t particularly have anything to say, and she just needed to show her face to Gyeongsuk.

Whether this thing she forced herself through like homework could be called filial piety was questionable, but it didn’t matter. She hadn’t started with such deep and tender feelings anyway.

Among the emotions tangled in complexity, Yunok intruded. Yunok probably knew. That the violence from Gangseok she avoided would surely be directed at her daughter Hyunseo.

Hyunseo understood yet resented her mother, who had to leave even knowing this, that choice she had to make to survive. 

The hatred she thought she’d let go of remained everywhere like dust. She put those things, dimly faded, back into her memories.

“You said patient Do Gangseok, right? You can go up to room 809 in the main building.”

She bought plenty of snacks like energy drinks and bread at the mart in front of the hospital. 

Just in case, Hyunseo confirmed Gangseok’s room number and headed straight to the hospital room on the elevator. 

She realized she hadn’t contacted Gyeongsuk, but it was already after she’d reached the hospital room. She didn’t need to notify her in advance anyway.

“Again, again! I told you to tell me when you need to go!”

Hyunseo, who was about to knock, stopped. Her expression naturally hardened at the sharp voice leaking completely into the hallway, and she soon carefully opened the door. 

he saw Gyeongsuk shouting with a distorted face.

“Anyway, you haven’t eaten anything but you sh*t so d*mn much.”

“Ugh…”

“What, did I do something wrong? You tell me, mister. How many times just today? I’m not just taking care of you alone—why are you training me like a d*mn dog!”

Raising her voice angrily, Gyeongsuk waved her hand irritably. Watching her strike his back hard enough to make thwacking sounds, Hyunseo clenched her fists. The one being hit was none other than Gangseok.

Gangseok, gaunt and thin, couldn’t even speak properly. Gyeongsuk roughly stripped off Gangseok’s pants and changed his diaper while grumbling irritably. 

The other patients around them couldn’t say anything either. They watched like it was their own business. Like it had already happened to them and would continue to happen.

“I really can’t live… Huh? Oh my, when did you get here?”

Gyeongsuk, who had turned around after dealing with the mess, discovered Hyunseo and quickly changed her expression.

“How did you come without contacting me?”

“Ah, I forgot. I just came to see him briefly.”

“I see, just a moment. Let me quickly wash my hands. Wait here.”

Hyunseo withdrew her gaze from Gyeongsuk entering the bathroom.

The hospital room, where five of six beds were filled, was full of heavy and gloomy air. Probably because they were mostly elderly patients with serious conditions who seemed to be in poor circumstances like Gangseok, they all looked lethargic.

Some of them looked at Hyunseo with bright eyes. The curious reactions, however, quickly disappeared. Hyunseo could tell it was because of Gyeongsuk, who soon appeared. Gyeongsuk smiled and led her.

“It’s been a while, right? You should say hello.”

“…No, it’s okay…”

“Mr. Do, your daughter’s here. Huh? Mister. I said your daughter came from Seoul?”

Gangseok, who had been slumped over, barely turned his head. His eyes, wandering in the air for a while without focus, slowly caught Hyunseo and rippled slightly. It was an extremely faint ripple.

Whether he recognized her or not—in a state where she couldn’t tell at all, Gangseok, who had been looking at Hyunseo, turned his head toward the wall again. His shoulders, breathing laboriously, were precarious with all his bones protruding. 

He’d been gaunt when she saw him before, but she couldn’t believe Gangseok was even thinner than then. Gyeongsuk spoke like she’d read Hyunseo’s thoughts.

“He’s not eating well. Everyone here is usually like that. The doctor made rounds earlier and didn’t say anything special, so you don’t need to worry.”

“Okay.”

“You must be tired from coming such a long way. What’s that? Snacks? Oh my, thank you. I’ll enjoy them.”

In contrast, Gyeongsuk, in her late forties, was full of vitality. Though she looked clearly tired and seemed to have gained quite a bit of weight, Gyeongsuk was completely different from the elderly patients barely lying in bed and struggling.

She was supposed to be good at her job. When introduced by the agency, and even hospital staff passing by had given Gyeongsuk a thumbs up. That’s why she’d trusted and left him in her care. Anyway, she couldn’t take care of Gangseok herself.

“You’re leaving already?”

“Because of the train time. Please take good care of him.”

“Alright, you must be busy so you should go. I’ll contact you if anything happens, so don’t worry. I told you about the 10 percent increase starting next month, right? Just make sure to pay on time without delay.”

Gyeongsuk saw Hyunseo off to the elevator and added a few more words. 

She said that as she saw earlier, he barely recognizes anyone now, so there’s no need to go through the trouble of traveling such a long distance—which sounded like telling her not to come. 

She seemed bothered that Hyunseo had shown up suddenly without notice.

Gyeongsuk, who patted her back telling her to go carefully, soon disappeared beyond the closed door.

Hyunseo’s expression as she pressed the first-floor button was rigidly hardened. Couldn’t she do it, or didn’t she? She wasn’t certain.

She could have confronted her. She could have asked Gyeongsuk why she hit her father earlier, told her not to do that even though she knew it was hard—but Hyunseo didn’t. 

Even she herself was confused about what her inner feelings were for standing by. She seemed clearly displeased, but on the other hand, not entirely so.

Hating someone is painful. Because it mercilessly gnaws away at one’s own insides first.

Like a spring that never dries, it keeps coming no matter how much you draw from it. Even if it fades, it doesn’t disappear completely. 

How cruel is this? To hate for a long time, especially when that person is of blood-related family.

“It’s really coming down.”

Walking in a daze, Hyunseo, who had come out the opposite side from the main entrance, stopped in front of the passage connecting to the annex.

The pitch-black sky finally poured rain. The rainfall was too heavy to call it a shower. She thought she should call a taxi. To hurry to the train station. The reason her body wouldn’t move was because even her heart had hardened.

‘Die, you b*tch…’

‘Ugh, what are you doing…!’

‘You’re going to leave too, right? Like your mother. If you’re going to act like that, just die with me. Let’s die!’

Bad memories eat away at good memories. That’s why Hyunseo never really had good times with Gangseok.

Gangseok, who not only beat her while drunk but also strangled her in her sleep, was a regular repertoire in the nightmares she occasionally had.

She realized it every time. That she was really, truly very far from forgiving her father.

She hated late winter. Hyunseo suffered secretly at this time that reminded her of when her mother left without her knowing, when she herself also ran away. The terrible habit of barely being able to greet spring only after suffering remained.

Oxygen rapidly ran out. She couldn’t even think to clench her tingling fingertips. Fatigue rushed in too.