Even after losing everything and fleeing to a desert island, I continued to live as though I had it all.

Dreams.

Hope.

Happiness.

Family.

A life.

These were things that others took for granted, but which I had never truly experienced.

So even when I was betrayed and abandoned, I felt I had no right to resent it.

But now… I had you: Lee Chun-hee.

You were just one person, yet everything felt resolved, as if I had achieved everything and had nothing left to wish for.

If there’s one thing in my life I never want to lose, it’s you.

When you smiled, I found myself smiling too.

The way you filled your mouth when you ate, the way your lashes trembled in your sleep — just watching you was enough.

Time passed easily, even when I did nothing.

It never felt wasted.

If it meant spending my days looking at you, I could give up the rest of my life without hesitation.

Love — what people call it.

Happiness — what they speak of.

I used to think they were nothing but illusions; names given to lies to make them seem real.

But now, I understand.

I still can’t put it into words, but if someone asked me what love and happiness are, this is how I would answer.

“Lee Chun-hee.”

“I want to stay together. Don’t you?”

Lee Chun-hee asked.

Of course I did.

But saying it out loud—that was a different matter.

You had become my everything.

But I could never become yours.

There was nothing I could give you.

A man who didn’t even know his own name, who never learned to read, who was sold for debt—
I was no longer a thug, no longer a detective.

“Maybe we can just live here. If we stay hidden like this, it feels like no one will ever find us. Right?”

I was a killer.
A wanted man.

Someone who could never be anything for you.

“Kim Yong-beom. I’m right, aren’t I?”

I couldn’t answer that—not even with a lie.

I couldn’t make a promise I wouldn’t be able to keep.

“No. Chun-hee… we can’t. I can’t stay here with you.”

I wasn’t someone who deserved that kind of happiness.

My happiness would only come at the cost of your fear, your suffering.

“If you stay with me, you’ll spend your whole life running. Even hiding me is a crime. Don’t live like that because of me.”

I couldn’t let you.

Not after seeing how you had lived.

Not after knowing everything.

How could I do that to you?

“Then… we can just keep living like we are now.”

“You’re anxious.”

“I’m not.”

“You wake up in the middle of the night. You can’t stand being apart from me. That’s all because you’re anxious. I can’t let you keep living like that.”

“Then what are you going to do? Leave me and run alone?”

“I’m not running anymore.”

“…Then—then what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to turn myself in.”

Lee Chun-hee slowly shook their head.

“I… I’m okay. Even if I’m anxious, I still want to live with you. I don’t care if we have to run forever, or if living with you is a crime. I’ve lived like trash anyway—what difference does it make if I do a few more bad things? So… I’ll just live like this with you.”

Their voice broke with tears, and my own throat tightened.

Holding Lee Chun-hee’s hand, I paused, choosing my words.

The conviction I had been building inside me felt like it might collapse in an instant.

I can’t fall apart.

Not for you.

“Let’s go back to Seoul.”

“….”

“Give your testimony. And let the police protect you. That’s the safest way for you.”

Lee Chun-hee froze for a moment, trying to process my words—then pulled their hand away from mine.

With a sharp shove, they pushed me back.

“Testify? You want me to testify?”

“Yes.”

“How could I do that to you? You want me to send you to prison with my own words? How could I—how could I… And you—could you do that to me?”

They pressed against my chest and cried, hitting it.

My chest tightened.

If only I had met you sooner.

Then maybe I wouldn’t have done something that could never be undone.

I was never a man of desire.

I lived because I had to, and because I was alive, I kept going.

But after meeting you, I began to want things.

I want to live.

I want to live like a person.

I want to live… holding your hand.

“Chun-hee, you said yourself that you couldn’t die before you had written your poems. You said that you had to become someone and achieve something before you died. If you died now, you’d only be remembered as a s*x worker, and you couldn’t accept that. Back then, I wanted to run away with you. I wanted to go somewhere where no one knew us, hide you away, and watch you write your poems. That’s when it all began.”

Their small face was soaked with tears.

Even as I wiped them away, more kept falling, like a spring that would never run dry.

I pressed my lips gently to their swollen eyelids.

Their tear-filled eyes looked up at me, soft beyond belief.

“From then on, I wanted to stay with you. And I learned something too—that I can’t keep living like this. If I keep running and end up getting caught or killed, I’ll be remembered as nothing but a murderer.”

I took a steady breath.

“I won’t run anymore. I’ll face what I’ve done.”

Lee Chun-hee clung to me, sobbing like a child.

She clung to my clothes as if I might disappear at any moment before wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me close. She held on with desperate strength, as if she would never let go.

She said nothing.

She just cried — quietly and painfully.

“You taught me something: Even if it’s my own life, I can’t live it carelessly. I can’t just drift through it and let it end like that. That’s why I’ve decided to turn myself in. No matter how many years it takes, I want to live the rest of my life on my own terms.”

Holding Lee Chun-hee, who felt so fragile that I was afraid I might break her if I held her too tightly, I gently pressed my face against her flushed cheek.

Holding you so fragile and precious, I spoke slowly and clearly, one word at a time.

“Thank you.”

It felt as though I had learnt everything there was to know from you.

Yet even if I gave you my entire life and all that I possess, it still wouldn’t be enough to repay you.

I had nothing.

I couldn’t even bring myself to tell you that I loved you.

Would words ever be enough to reach you?

“You’re the only one who’s ever taught me anything.”

Lee Chun-hee cried for a long time—but eventually, she stopped holding onto me.

***

We chose a day to leave.

From the moment they woke up the previous day, Lee Chun-hee had been restless. She tried to act as if everything were normal, but this only made things harder.

Even late into the night, lying face to face, she kept her eyes closed without ever falling asleep.

Seeing her curl up, I got up first.

I couldn’t sleep either.

When I returned with warm tea, Lee Chun-hee was already standing by the window, staring out.

The snow that had fallen at dawn had turned to rain. The storm grew heavier, and the waves rose in violent swells.

I handed her a teacup, and we stood side by side listening.

The rain and waves blurred together as thunder crashed through the air and lightning tore across the sky.

No boats would sail in weather like this.

But the sea doesn’t conform to human expectations.

It might calm down again by tomorrow.

I didn’t want to give you false hope.

I also didn’t want to delay the day I would leave.

I knew you wouldn’t be able to do anything while waiting for me.

Lee Chun-hee, who had been staring out at the sea for so long, finally turned to me.

“Kim Yong-beom.”

Since that day—she hadn’t cried.

“I really hated you.”

“I know.”

“I used to curse you in my head all the time. Wishing you’d just die. Even in the notebook you bought me, at first I only wrote about how much I hated you.”

We both laughed quietly.

I remembered how you had left it open on purpose, just so I’d see.

“You found me annoying, too, didn’t you? You must have thought you shouldn’t have kept me around. I ate a lot, complained when it was cold, said that I would follow you wherever you went, and begged you to let me go. Even thinking back now, I realize that I really couldn’t sit still for a single day.”

I knew that version of you.

And I never hated it.

“But now that I think you won’t be here anymore… that we might never meet again… it feels strange. Even when my mom died, I just accepted it. But this—”

To Lee Chun-hee, I wasn’t family.

Not a friend.

Not what people would call a lover.

We had never once called this love.

“I don’t know what it’ll be like after you leave. I can’t imagine it. Will I be sad? Will I just manage somehow? Will it feel like none of this ever happened? I don’t know anything. Maybe I’ll miss you. Maybe I’ll feel sad sometimes.”

It wasn’t a question meant to hear an answer.