Unable to bear the silence for even a moment, I tried to change the subject.

However, Kim Yong-beom instead walked over to the coat hanging on the rack and pulled something out.

It was a worn piece of paper.

I knew what was written on it.

It was the poem I had written in my notebook just before I let you go.

I tore it out and handed it to the police officer who had come to the hospital, asking him to give it to you.

“This one.”

“You probably couldn’t even read it properly. My handwriting’s a mess.”

“I memorized it.”

He said that he had looked at those clumsy letters time and again whenever he had the chance, and that he could still picture them even with his eyes closed.

I liked the way he described it so plainly.

“Thank you… for the poem.”

“……”

“And that day—thank you for coming to get me.”

Even after seeing me on the day of his release, Kim Yong-beom remained silent for a long time.

He just stood in front of the heavy iron gate, not moving any closer.

So I went to him.

I walked straight up to him, stood in front of him and called his name.

“Kim Yong-beom.”

Only then did he pull me into his arms.

His voice was hoarse and trembling.

He said he had been scared — scared that I might disappear and that everything had been a dream.

He was also afraid that I might not be able to speak again.

The body holding me shook ever so slightly.

He told me the words he hadn’t been able to say back then.

Sending the poem and going to get him had made me happy, too.

Above all, I was relieved that he had followed me without hesitation.

“Want to see this too?”

For some reason, I felt as though I might start crying, so I kept myself busy.

I pulled a notebook out of the stack of books.

The missing piece of the poem he was holding was here — the rest of it was in this notebook.

The pages were so densely covered in writing that the ink smudged onto my fingers.

I had written down everything I could remember, over and over again, so that I wouldn’t forget anything we had been through.

“There are parts I couldn’t write… because I couldn’t remember. I tried not to miss anything. Maybe you can fill them in for me.”

“……”

“I’ve written down all the things I want to do with you. Just in case I forget.

You and I have already experienced things that most people never do — things that they should never have to experience.

So now, let’s try living like everyone else.

We could eat out and go to the cinema sometimes. We’ve seen enough of the sea, so maybe we could go and see the mountains, too.”

“Lee Chun-hee.”

At the sound of my name, I stopped talking.

“Don’t try so hard. You don’t have to.”

“What do you mean?”

But the truth was that I was trying harder than anyone realized.

I was afraid Kim Yong-beom would say he wouldn’t live with me.

I was afraid that being with me would remind him of things he wanted to forget.

I was afraid that, because of me, he would keep getting caught up in misfortune.

Whenever things became awkward, I forced myself to talk more.

I wanted him to enjoy being with me.

I hoped he would always want to stay by my side.

“Chun-hee. Thank you.”

Kim Yong-beom pulled me into his arms.

He thanked me repeatedly.

But that wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

There was something I had been waiting to hear from him: the chance to stay with him by the sea, something he had once said he couldn’t give me.

Even now, he still hadn’t said it.

More than ten days had passed since we started living together again, and still the words I longed for had not come.

I couldn’t rush him.

I buried my face in his neck, wrapped my arms tightly around his back, and held on.

I didn’t want to let go.

That night, we both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

***

By the time I left work, it was already dark.

There had been times when I had pushed myself to work the night and dawn shifts, desperate to earn more money.

But these days, I tried as hard as I could to leave early.

At this rate, I wouldn’t be able to deny it when people joked that I was married.

“Kim Yong-beom!”

He stood just outside the factory, beyond the alleyway.

Against the reddened sky, his tall figure resembled something from a painting.

I ran over and stood beside him.

No matter whether we were walking to or from work, the journey always felt too short when we were together.

I was walking along happily when he quietly took my hand.

“Why?”

“There’s somewhere I want to go with you.”

I followed his lead.

The destination didn’t matter as much as the warmth of his hand holding mine.

It was far enough away that we had to take the bus.

There was only one empty seat, so Kim Yong-beom insisted that I sit down while he stood beside me.

I should have just stood with him.

Then we could have held hands the whole journey.

When I looked away from his reflection in the window, I realized that we were passing through a neighborhood I recognized.

Mia.

The place where I was born.

A place that only came alive at night.

A place with a stench I could never forget.

It was a place I ran from time and again, only to be dragged back.

It’s also where I met you.

Suddenly, I felt a warm hand on my shoulder.

Kim Yong-beom’s large hand gently patted me and smoothed my hair, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

Honestly, I didn’t feel like crying at all.

But I liked the way he was comforting me, so I leaned into it.

I placed my hand over his.

Looking at my reflection in the window, I saw myself smiling.

We passed Mia Temple and rode on for another twenty minutes before disembarking.

By then, the last traces of the sunset had faded and darkness had settled in.

Kim Yong-beom led me to a three-storey building near the stop.

Our hands were still clasped together.

“Where are we?”

It was only after I stepped onto the empty first floor that I finally asked.

I looked around the bare room, lit by a single fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling, but I still couldn’t figure it out.

“You said the black beans noodles I made was good, right?”

I didn’t understand what he was getting at, so I just looked at him.

“You said you were dying from how salty it was, but you still finished it all. Every last bit—even scraped up the sauce.”

“I did.”

“I’ll make it for you again — it’ll be even better this time. I’ll cook food that tastes even better than black beans noodles. I’ll earn enough so that you can do everything you want. I’ll give you a life where you can write the poems you love, worry-free. In winter, I’ll keep the briquettes burning so you’ll never feel the cold. When you bathe, the water will always be warm. If you’re cold, I’ll hold you. If you’re tired, I’ll carry you.”

I understood now.

“Live with me, Chun-hee.”

Kim Yong-beom’s chest rose and fell visibly.

“I’ll take good care of you.”

I was lost for words for a moment.

Still holding my gaze, he continued, speaking slowly and carefully.

He said that he wanted to open a Chinese restaurant because it was the only thing he believed he was truly good at.

But, to me, it didn’t matter what he did for a living.

As long as there was a place for me beside him, that was enough.

Kim Yong-beom pointed to a spot by the window.

“While I’m cooking, you sit there and write your poems.”

Wherever he pointed, a smooth, warm-grained wooden table and chair appeared.

On the table was a book of poems by my favorite poet.

Next to it were the notebook and mechanical pencil that you had given me.

A cup of apple-scented tea rested quietly on the table.

Sunlight streamed through the window, clear and gentle.

The scene was so vivid that it felt as though it had been painted right before my eyes.

Our future.

“Lee Chun-hee… you’ll do that, right?”

“…Yeah.”

My throat tightened and I was unable to speak.

Passing through Mia hadn’t affected me, but now my heart was pounding wildly.

You — the only person I could see; the person that no one else could ever know.

Kim Yong-beom looked at me and smiled.

—finale—