CHAPTER 11
“Your family is waiting for you,” Chung-Hee said with a sly smile.
Noeul stared at him. “You told them?”
He pulled his knees to his chest as if trying to disappear. Tears streamed down his face, unstoppable. He didn’t want to be seen like this, not by him. But it was too late.
“I did,” Chung-Hee said calmly. “Your mother was pitiful. Crying, screaming, completely shattered. Your father struggled to keep her from collapsing.”
His eyes gleamed with dangerous resolve and barely restrained anger, fixed on Noeul with an intensity that made the room feel smaller.
“Why did you tell them?” Noeul’s face twisted with grief and burning rage.
“Why not? Was it wrong to tell them? Or are you responsible for their pain?” Chung-Hee pressed. “Do you really have the right to accuse me? Or should you first examine your own actions?”
“Get out! Leave! Nurse! Nurse!”
Chung-Hee ignored the outburst and continued coldly. “Your brother looked miserable. Have you ever considered the consequences of your decision? A seventeen-year-old boy losing both his older brothers to suicide. How happy could he ever truly be?”
“Stop it! I told you to leave, damn it!”
All politeness evaporated. Under normal circumstances, Chung-Hee would have struck anyone who spoke to him like that.
But this was different. He told himself he enjoyed it.
Noeul’s desperation gave him something he had not felt since Haneul died: control.
If Noeul feared him, he could not disappear beyond Chung-Hee’s reach.
Attraction, concern, and guilt could all be renamed punishment.
Under Chung-Hee’s gaze, Noeul felt like a cornered animal, furious, frightened, and desperate to escape.
Chung-Hee raised his hands calmly. “Since I’m clearly not welcome, I’ll take my leave. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow, Noeul. I hope you continue reflecting on what I said.”
His gaze lingered on Noeul with open amusement. “I find your desperation… enchanting.”
He winked and walked out of the room.
Was Chung-Hee right? Had his family really reacted that badly?
Noeul didn’t know. What he knew for certain was that Chung-Hee was dangerous.
His calm felt like a mask. Noeul could think of only one explanation: Chung-Hee wanted to punish him for his involvement in Haneul’s death.
And his appearance at the exact moment Noeul had hit rock bottom was far too much of a coincidence.
Haneul had told him Chung-Hee lived in the United States, but had he always been in New York? He remembered Austin. But so many years had passed. Maybe he had moved for work. Or to start a family.
Could he have been the one who saved him? No. Impossible. Noeul would have bet his life that Chung-Hee would let him rot before ever lifting a hand to help him.
That night, Noeul knew he had to leave the hospital. At midnight, he dressed carefully and opened the door slowly, trying not to make a sound. The moment he stepped into the hallway, he saw the security guard standing nearby.
The large man recognized him immediately and stepped forward, blocking his path.
“Mr. Lee asked me to remain outside your room,” he said calmly, blocking his path. “You’re not cleared to leave the hospital. He’ll return tomorrow afternoon. You should rest until then.”
Noeul didn’t sleep at all that night. His thoughts circled endlessly around Gong, Haneul, his family… and Chung-Hee.
Nothing made sense. They lived in different countries. They had no shared friends, no shared life. Nothing connected them except Haneul, who had been gone for years.
Noeul finally fell asleep in the morning, when the sky had already turned blue.
***
During the two days Noeul remained hospitalized, Chung-Hee prepared everything for their departure. Plane tickets. Discharge arrangements. Noeul’s personal belongings. He even contacted Noeul’s employer to confirm that Noeul would not return to the office before his notice period ended.
Late in the afternoon, Chung-Hee decided to visit him again. He found Noeul sitting on the hospital bed, shoulders slumped, head lowered, watching the small old television. Chung-Hee would have bet he hadn’t heard a single word of the comedy playing.
He entered quietly and placed a cup of coffee on the table beside the bed. He took a sip from his own cup, watching Noeul.
“How are you? Want some coffee?” he asked, his voice betraying a trace of awkwardness.
Noeul ignored him, staring into the distance, giving no indication of where his thoughts had gone.
Chung-Hee spoke again, this time with visible enthusiasm. “You seem to enjoy quiet moments. I suppose I’ll do the talking, then.”
He took another sip. “We’re returning to Korea in three hours.”