43. Iseul
I searched the riverbank throughthe night and into the dawn. Morning dew clung to my skin as I staggered along the shore, my eyes straining, startling at every shadow and rock.
He is alive. He has to be.
That was the only thought my frantic mind could hold on to. Death seemed too final for him, too final for a prince whose life had become so interwoven with mine.
Please, just be alive—
Something dark floated on the water. I could not breathe again.
“Daehyun.” I raced down the slope, tripping, then thrashed through the water. At last, I wrapped my arm around my prince, around the memory of him towering before me in the bookshop, of his hand on my waist, of him whispering my name, Iseul-ah, Iseul-ah—
A hand grabbed the collar of my dress, dragging me back.
“Are you mad?” Yul yelled.
She continued to drag me, together with my sister, until I was sitting on the shore, tightly embracing a jumble of empty fishing nets.
I shook my head, my nails digging into the rope, unbearable pain heaving through my chest. He was gone, truly gone. I could not, absolutely could not, believe it; it was incomprehensible. My mouth could not even form the words aloud.
My Daehyun. Dead.