Chapter 23 Monroe
“Alright, baby, I’m heading to the market. You need anything while I’m out?”
I look up from the box I’ve been sorting through and shake my head. “I’m good, Mom. Thanks.”
Mom grabs her purse and pauses at the door, glancing back at me with an expression caught between amusement and exasperation.
“You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually starting to get used to having armed men follow me around.
Makes me feel like a celebrity.” She snorts out a laugh.
“A celebrity who’s buying discount produce, but still. Might as well call me Beyoncé.”
I manage a small laugh despite everything. “Jin’s orders. You know how he is.”
“Mmhmm. Controlling and overprotective, even when you ain’t together.” She shakes her head with more exasperated humor. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Don’t work too hard.”
The door clicks shut behind her, and suddenly I’m alone in the apartment with nothing but boxes and memories for company.
I turn back to the task at hand—sorting through everything I’ve accumulated over the past few years as an expat, deciding what to take back to Philly and what to donate or throw away.
It’s tedious work, the kind that keeps your hands busy while your mind wanders to places you’d rather not go. Every item I pick up seems to carry some weight of the life I built here.
The same life I’m now dismantling piece by piece.
The box in front of me is filled with things from my time at Suyeong Academy—textbooks, lesson plans, a mug one of my students gave me for Teacher’s Day, even a stack of colorful drawings from my younger kids.
I smile at some of them, a sense of loss panging me for the classroom I’ll never return to. I’ll never get the chance to see my students progress with their English and the bright happy expressions come across their little faces the more they learn.
Maybe I can give some of these books to Kelly. At least the ones in good condition. Or donate them back to the school for the next English teacher who takes my place.
I dig deeper into the box, pushing aside folders and supplies. My hand closes around something smooth and metallic and cool to the touch.
The tin of Saenggang-cha.
I pull it out slowly, staring at the familiar container with its simple design and Korean lettering. The ginger tea was Mr. Noh’s gift to me, given with such warmth and kindness when I first started struggling with morning sickness during my pregnancy.
He’d told me it would help settle my stomach. His wife swore by it during her own pregnancy many years ago.
I’d sampled the ginger tea only to quickly discover he was right. It eased the terrible spells of nausea I was experiencing and made it easier to get through the school day.
I started drinking it daily.
Every morning—sometimes even in the afternoons too—I brewed a cup of the ginger tea and sipped it while I taught my classes and graded papers.
There were even times in the evenings once I was home that I sat on the couch with Jin and indulged in a cup as we watched TV.
It became part of my routine, as essential as brushing my teeth or taking my prenatal vitamins. The spicy, pungent taste of ginger became synonymous with those months of hope and anticipation.
The baby that grew inside me by the day, his kicks little flutters against my belly.
The afternoon I collapsed, I’d been drinking it then too. Wisps of steam still curled from the cup as I went over some animal pronunciations with my students.
Then the room started to spin. Sweat broke out on my skin and suddenly it felt like my legs could no longer hold me. I fumbled for the desk chair hoping that if I could just sit down, if I could maybe even take another sip of tea, I would be okay.
I never made it, passing out in front of the entire class.
At the time, I had no idea it was about to be the worst day of my life.
My baby was gone. One second he was kicking up a storm inside my belly, by nightfall he had slipped away from us.
Dr. Gong couldn’t explain why, stating that the mystery substance in my bloodstream had somehow spread to the baby and stopped his tiny, fragile heart. It’s a mystery that’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.
I took your son from the inside out.
Black Shell’s eerie message turns over in my head. He’d mailed it to Jin with a taunting photograph of me being followed by the men he sent over to attack me and Mom.
But what did he mean by taking our son from us? How did he take him from the inside out?
It implies he found a way to end our baby’s life without ever having to harm me on the outside.
…so how did he do it?
I stare down at the tin can of tea and then gasp as the epiphany crashes into me.
“No,” I whisper, then shake my head. “That’s not… it couldn’t have been…”
My thoughts spiral, unraveling so quickly I can barely make sense of them. It’s a dark line of thinking that sounds insane.
It sounds like the paranoid delusion of a grieving mother desperately looking for someone or something to blame.
But other than the prenatal vitamins, the tea was the only new addition to my diet while I was pregnant. It was the only thing I consumed religiously, daily, without question. The very last thing I put in my body before I collapsed in front of my students.
And Mr. Noh...
He appeared so suddenly in my life. A new administrator at the school, arriving just as my pregnancy began to show.
Always so helpful and kind. Bringing me tea and checking on my wellbeing.
Remembering details about my life that other colleagues forgot and rescuing me from the mugger outside the school.
Inserting himself into my orbit with a warmth that felt grandfatherly and safe.
He’d have easy access to me. He’d be right in front of my face, hiding in plain sight.
He’s about the same age Jin’s father would’ve been if he’d lived. The right age for a thirty-year grudge.
In the past, he mentioned he’s been in education for over ten years. But what was he doing before then? What line of work was he in?
My hands are shaking as I set the tin down on the coffee table and reach for my phone. I pull up my text thread with Kelly and type out a message before I can second-guess myself.
Hey, kinda random question
Hyun-woo works at a lab right?
Does he test food for toxins?
The reply comes a minute later:
Yeah, he does all kinds of testing. Why??
I stare at the screen, my heart pounding against my ribs. Then I decide it doesn’t matter if I’m the paranoid grieving mother desperate to pin my tragedy on someone.
I need to know for sure. One way or another.
I might need a favor.
The lab is quiet at this hour, most of the fluorescent lights dimmed, the hallways empty of the usual bustle of technicians and researchers.
Kelly’s boyfriend, Hyun-woo, agreed to run the tests after hours as a favor to her, though he’d raised an eyebrow at the unusual request and asked very few questions.
He’s a good guy—quiet, straitlaced and obviously so smitten with Kelly it makes me happy for her.
…even if I’m in the middle of my own relationship crisis.
I’m grateful for his discretion. I’m not sure I could explain this to anyone without sounding completely unhinged.
It is unhinged; it’s extremely paranoid and crazy.
But the more I think about it, the more plausible it seems. The more I’m questioning even the smallest interactions I’ve had with Mr. Noh.
I stand near one of the workstations, watching Hyun-woo move between machines and monitors, his brow pinched in concentration.
Kelly’s beside me, perched on a lab stool and swinging her legs like a restless child, trying to fill the tense silence with her usual chatter.
I’ve been forced to bring along a guard—with Jin’s men outside the apartment door 24/7, there’s no other way to get around it—so I chose Sang-cheol.
At least I know him well enough that I trust him more than Jin’s other men. He’s been my driver for months and then was apparently put on my stalking detail, ordered to follow me around everywhere without my knowledge.
But I might have stretched the truth a little when telling Sang-cheol why he needed to escort me to the lab this evening. I told him I was picking up results from a health panel I’d had done in the wake of my miscarriage.
I’ve rationalized that it’s not totally a lie. The tests I’m having Hyun-woo do are related to my pregnancy.
Just... not in the way he thinks.
He’d nodded without suspicion and taken up his post outside the lab doors, offering the privacy I needed for whatever this turns out to be.
“You know,” Kelly says, interrupting my spiraling thoughts, “I once thought my brother was poisoning me. Dead serious. I was sick for like a week straight with it coming out both ends, convinced he was putting something in my food because I’d accidentally broken his PlayStation 3.
” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Turned out I was lactose intolerant. Who develops lactose intolerance at seventeen? I haven’t been able to enjoy cheese fries the same way since. ”
I try to smile, though it comes up short, the muscles in my face not cooperating. “That’s… um, quite a story, Kelly.”
“I’m just saying, sometimes the paranoid explanation isn’t the right one.” She glances at me, her expression softening behind the humor. “But sometimes it is. And if that creepy old man really did do something to you, I want to know. I want to help you nail his ass to the wall.”
“Thanks… he seemed so kind. But maybe that was the point.”
“Pretty sure you’re aware how I’ve always felt about him. The jerk couldn’t remember my name. I mean, do I look like a Kathy?” She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “That’s villain behavior if you ask me. Classic sign of a psychopath—they only remember people who are useful to them.”
I stare down at my phone and for the fiftieth time since my epiphany, I consider texting Jin. At least to let him know of my suspicions.