SESSION 15
Dr. Kim waited until Noeul settled into the chair before speaking. For several minutes, neither of them said anything. Noeul sat with one leg crossed over the other, his fingers turning the ring around his neck again and again. Dr. Kim’s gaze dropped briefly to the ring, but she said nothing.
Finally, she leaned back slightly. “Last time, you told me that Haneul’s mother blamed you for his death.”
Noeul’s fingers stopped. “Yes.”
“You said you still hear her words sometimes.”
Noeul looked toward the window. “Not sometimes.”
Dr. Kim waited.
Noeul swallowed. “Almost every day.”
The answer sat between them.
“What happened that day?” Dr. Kim asked.
Noeul lowered his gaze. For a moment, he looked as though he might refuse. Then he took a slow breath. “How could I ever forget it?” He paused. “It was one of the worst days of my life. The day everything split open.”
Dr. Kim said nothing.
“It began like any other day. Sunlight was coming through the tall windows of the university corridor. I had no morning lectures, so I’d spent the whole morning at home drawing.
” Noeul gave a faint, humorless smile. “I remember thinking about stupid things. Weekend plans. Assignments. A new game Minho wouldn’t stop talking about. ”
“Nothing felt wrong?”
Noeul hesitated. “Not exactly.” His fingers returned to the ring around his neck. “I hadn’t been able to reach Haneul. He hadn’t shown up at university for days. Something about him had changed. I knew that.”
“What changed?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “He was distant. Wounded somehow. Like part of him had already stepped away.”
Dr. Kim watched him carefully. “And what did you do with that feeling?”
“Nothing.”
The answer came immediately. Too quickly.
Noeul stared down at his hands. “I told myself he needed space.” There was bitterness in his voice now. “I was about to enter the lecture hall when I saw a group of people near the entrance. They were whispering. Then I heard his name.”
Noeul’s breathing changed.
“Haneul,” Noeul said quietly. “That was all.” His gaze drifted somewhere beyond the office. “Then someone said, ‘I can’t believe he’s gone.’”
Noeul went still. “I remember that word.”
“Gone?”
“Yes.” His jaw tightened. “It didn’t make sense. We were supposed to meet that weekend. We were going to have lunch. Play that stupid game.” His voice cracked slightly. “He couldn’t be gone.”
Dr. Kim allowed the silence to remain.
“I pushed through the crowd and asked what happened. There was a girl there. I barely knew her.” Noeul rubbed his palms against his trousers.
“She looked at me like she already knew what it would do to me.” He closed his eyes.
“She said Haneul had ended his life the day before.” His voice dropped.
“And everything disappeared. The corridor. The people. The noise.”
Noeul stared at the floor. “I kept waiting for someone to laugh.”
“A joke?”
“A cruel one.” He nodded. “I thought maybe someone had decided to punish me. That someone would say it wasn’t true.” His fingers tightened. “But nobody did.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I told her Haneul was fine.”
Dr. Kim’s eyes remained on him. “Was he?”
Noeul’s face changed. “No.” The word barely came out. “I know that now.”
“But you didn’t know it then.”
Noeul looked up. “I should have.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Noeul’s mouth tightened. “No.”
A long silence followed.
“I don’t remember leaving the building,” he continued. “One moment I was standing there, and the next I was outside running. I ran all the way home.”
“What were you thinking?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“No.” Noeul looked frustrated by the question. “I just needed to get away from the words.”
Dr. Kim nodded.
“When I got home, Ji-Woo was there. He was fourteen.” Something softened briefly in Noeul’s expression. “He came around the corner and asked what was wrong. I collapsed on the couch. I couldn’t tell him.”
“But you did.”
“I had to.” Noeul looked away. “He kept asking why I was crying. So I held his hand and told him.” He paused. “‘Haneul is dead.’”
Noeul pressed his lips together. “He told me I must have heard wrong. Then I had to say it again.”
Dr. Kim leaned forward slightly. “That he had died by suicide?”
Noeul nodded. “And Ji-Woo just… broke. He threw his arms around me and started crying.” Noeul stared at the carpet. “He was so small.”
The room remained quiet.
“I remember thinking that I had to hold him together.”
“And who held you together?”
Noeul gave a short laugh. “No one.”
Dr. Kim didn’t challenge the answer.
“I sat there holding him, and suddenly I thought of Haneul’s mother.” Noeul’s expression changed immediately. “She loved me.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“She did.” Noeul’s voice became firmer. “She treated me like another son. Sometimes I ate at their house more than my own. She knew what food I liked. She’d buy things because she knew I was coming over.
” A faint smile appeared and vanished almost immediately.
“She used to scold Haneul if he didn’t save me enough. ”
“And when you thought about her that day?”
“I thought she would be alone.” Noeul’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“So you called her.”
“Yes.” His shoulders stiffened. “I left Ji-Woo on the couch and went into the kitchen. I remember my fingers slipping on the screen.”
“What happened when she answered?”
Noeul took a long breath. “She sounded… broken. And angry.” His eyes lifted.
“I called her Eomeoni. I said, ‘Eomeoni, it’s Noeul. I just heard about Haneul.’” Noeul’s voice became distant.
“She asked me what exactly I had heard. I told her I heard he was gone. I said I didn’t understand why he would do it. ”
Noeul stopped. For several seconds, he couldn’t continue.
Dr. Kim spoke softly. “What did she say?”
Noeul’s jaw tightened. “She said maybe I should ask myself. Or my brother.” The room seemed to grow smaller. “She said Gong was the reason her son was dead.”
Dr. Kim watched the tension spread through his body. “And then?”
“She asked where I was.” Noeul’s voice roughened. “Where I was when Haneul needed me.” His breathing became uneven. “She said if I had really been his friend, I would have stopped it. She said I knew what Gong was doing.”
Noeul shook his head. “I told her I didn’t know how badly Haneul was suffering. I told her he never told me.”
“And what did she say?”
Noeul stared straight ahead. “She said he didn’t tell me because I wasn’t someone he could trust. She said I chose my brother over him.” A tear slid down his cheek. “And then she said it.”
Dr. Kim waited.
Noeul’s voice was almost inaudible. “‘You are responsible for my son’s death.’”
Dr. Kim gave him time.
Noeul wiped the tear away quickly, almost angrily. “I apologized.”
“To her?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
Noeul looked at her as though the answer were obvious. “For Haneul.”
Dr. Kim shook her head slightly. “No. What did you believe you were apologizing for?”
Noeul opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, he whispered, “For failing him.”
“Those are not the same thing.”
Noeul’s eyes hardened. “Maybe they are.”
“Are they?”
Noeul looked away. “She told me never to contact her again. Then she hung up.” He rubbed both hands over his face. “I stood there staring at the phone.”
“And what did you think?”
Noeul was silent for a long time. “What if she was right?”
Dr. Kim leaned back. “Do you still believe she was?”
Noeul didn’t answer.
“That isn’t a trick question,” Dr. Kim said. “I’m asking what you believe now.”
Noeul stared at the floor. “Some days, yes.”
“And other days?”
“I don’t know.”
Dr. Kim continued carefully. “Ms. Lee had just lost her son. She was grieving. Angry. Looking for an explanation.”
“She had one.”
“Did she?”
Noeul finally looked at her.
Dr. Kim kept her tone neutral. “I’m not asking you to excuse Gong. And I’m not asking you to excuse yourself if there were things you wish you had handled differently. But regret is not the same as responsibility.”
Noeul said nothing.
“You were Haneul’s friend,” Dr. Kim continued. “Not his doctor. Not his parent. Not someone who could see inside his mind.”
“I should have noticed.”
“Perhaps.”
The answer surprised him. Dr. Kim didn’t soften it.
“Perhaps there were things you missed. Most people can look backward after a suicide and find moments they wish they had understood differently. But hindsight gives you information you did not have then.” Dr. Kim leaned forward slightly. “That matters.”
Noeul’s fingers closed around the ring again. “Ms. Lee knew me. She loved me.”
“Yes.”
“Then why would she say that if there wasn’t some truth in it?”
Dr. Kim studied him for a moment. “Because loving someone does not make us incapable of hurting them. And grief does not make every belief we have accurate.”
The words seemed to settle somewhere inside him.
“You’ve treated Ms. Lee’s accusation as evidence for years.”
Noeul frowned.
“What if it wasn’t evidence?”
He looked up.
“What if it was the worst moment of a grieving mother’s life?”
Dr. Kim let the question remain unanswered.
After a while, Noeul looked toward the window. “She used to call me her third son.” His voice broke.
“I know.”
“And then one day I became the person who killed one of them.”
Dr. Kim shook her head. “No.”
Noeul looked at her.
“One day,” Dr. Kim said quietly, “you became the person she blamed.”