UB09

Episode 9

Hyunha pulled away. Right then, Kang Inch’an stepped in, looking as though he were trying to make sense of what had happened inside. His lips tightened when he saw Yeongin’s disheveled hair and the red marks around her wrist.

“Looks like the performance’s over. Go on downstairs. I’ll drive you home in a bit.”

Yeongin crossed her arms over herself as she brushed past him. Her forearms were prickled with goosebumps.

True to his word, Inch’an followed her shortly after. Not a single word passed between them until they reached the car.

In the back seat, Yeongin rubbed at her reddened wrist. It looked like it would bruise soon.

Why had he suddenly gotten so angry?

Once the shock wore off, confusion only deepened. Was it because he didn’t like her playing? That would be a stupid reason—but there had been nothing else between them.

And she had played well.

Yeongin bit at her nails, pride stung. Part of her wanted to throw her lesson bag aside and storm off, but another part clung to the pride she took in her performance. She had played with more skill and passion than anyone her age, always putting her whole life into each piece. So why—?

The tang of blood spread over her tongue where she’d bitten too hard. She wiped her red fingertip on her skirt. Thoughts of Choi Hyunha refused to leave her.

When the car stopped in the alley by her house, Inch’an got out with her and, in a practiced motion, pulled an envelope from his coat.

“Buy some ointment for that.”

She took it without thinking, and when she opened it, it was thick with bills. She crushed the envelope in her fist, the heat in her wrist flaring. She wanted to shove it back at him.

So, if your young master hits someone, you pay them off?

Her lips parted to spit the words at him, but she closed them again. Instead, she stuffed the envelope into her pocket.

Pride couldn’t pay the bills.

“Goodbye.”

Her ears burned as she mumbled a half-hearted farewell and hurried toward home.

Ever since she had started taking whatever odd jobs she could to earn money, her father had grown thinner, more irritable. Maybe it was just as hard for him to swallow such humiliations.

Was that why he’d… done what he had with Choi Hyunha?

Her thoughts kept spiraling in ugly directions. The longer she went without seeing her father, the worse the images became.

On her way up the stairs, she caught the sound of hushed voices above.

“A thief, they said?”

“That’s the house, right?”

The landlord’s kids were loitering by the stairwell. When they met Yeongin’s gaze, they gave her awkward nods.

Something felt wrong. She bolted up the stairs. The landlord was standing by her door, glancing around. The front door stood wide open.

Pushing past him, she stepped inside—and froze with a gasp.

The place was a wreck. Clothes and odds and ends littered the floor, as though someone had torn through the place in a frenzy.

“What… happened? Did someone come in here?”

Her first thought—wild and oddly hopeful—was that the police had searched the place.

The landlord clicked his tongue. “How should I know? The door was open when I came by, and it looked like this.”

His tone, as if this were someone else’s problem, made her chest tighten. She pulled out her phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling the police. It looks like a break-in.”

“I already called. What, you think I’d just stand around after seeing this?”

Before she could reply, he caught her by the arm.

“Since you’re here, we should talk.”

He led her to a corner, clearing his throat. Yeongin’s stomach knotted.

“You’re going to have to move out.”

The dread she’d felt was not misplaced. Her heart dropped.

“What? Just like that?”

“I don’t like saying this to someone your age, but what can I do? People in the building are on edge because of your place. And like I told you before—you’re behind on the rent.”

He rattled it off as if rehearsed.

“I can pay,” she blurted, fumbling out the envelope Inch’an had given her, the corner already crushed. “My college entrance exam is next week. If you kick me out, I have nowhere to go.”

She reached for his sleeve, her desperation humiliating, but he stepped back before she could touch him.

“I’ve got three kids to feed. I know it’s hard for you, but what choice do I have?”

“If we leave, where’s my father supposed to come back to?”

At that, his eyes flickered with contempt. She realized too late she shouldn’t have brought her father up.

“If he were coming back, he’d have done it already. You think he’d leave this to drag on until it turned into a scandal? You’ll have to be out before next month.”

There was no room for pleading. Without another glance at her, he peeked into the envelope.

“This’ll cover the back rent. Stop worrying about your dad and start figuring out where you’re going to live.”

How could she stop worrying about her father? How was she supposed to figure out her own survival? She swallowed the retort—he wouldn’t listen anyway.

The police arrived late, showing little concern for the state of the place. They promised to “increase patrols” and filed her report, but spent more time looking for signs that her father might have been there.

“Guess it really was just a burglary,” one muttered.

“Thought you’d get a big case out of it?” another snickered.

Hearing them laugh as they left, Yeongin pressed her fist hard against her mouth. She wanted to scream. Instead, she forced her churning stomach to settle and stepped back inside.

The living room was even worse than before, shards of glass everywhere so she couldn’t even take her shoes off. She grabbed a garbage bag and began clearing the floor. It was still chaos, but she couldn’t just leave it.

It felt like her life lately—mess upon mess, barely held together.

Something rolled over the threshold: a trophy she had won not long ago, first prize in a competition.

Her piano trophies were scattered everywhere. Among the broken things, they looked like trash. She crouched to retrieve the intact one—then noticed the frame beside it.

The family photo inside was completely destroyed, the wooden frame splintered. The picture of her and her father was creased and curling.

The strength drained from her hands. The garbage bag hit the floor with a dull thud. She sank down, clutching her head.

Who would do this? Why? The questions didn’t matter anymore. She just wanted to escape. A splitting headache throbbed behind her eyes.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Without checking the caller ID, she answered.

—What are you doing?

Hyunha’s voice was calm, almost casual—so far removed from her own reality that it felt unreal.

—Just thought I’d call because I wanted to see you.

“Was this you?”

The words burst out before she could think.

Hyunha laughed. The sound lodged in her ears like splintered glass as Yeongin clutched her tangled hair. Her hand stung—she must have cut it while cleaning.

—What are you talking about?

“My place—it’s a total wreck.”

It wasn’t something she should be telling Hyunha, but there was no one else to talk to. No one at all.

“Looks like a break-in, but nothing’s missing. I don’t know… The police think my dad might have been here, but it wasn’t him. He’d never smash my trophies. The landlady’s telling me to get out, and I’ve got nowhere to go.”

—Nowhere to go?

There was a soft, coaxing note in Hyunha’s voice, but Yeongin was too worn down to notice.

“Nowhere. Not anywhere.”

Her mother had run off long ago, and after her father’s rampage looking for her, the rest of the family had cut ties. The few friends she’d had from piano class had drifted away—or turned against her.

No one in the whole world to hold on to.

It struck her fully then—how completely alone she was. Her shoulders hunched. No one would reach out a hand to her.

—Want me to come get you?

Hyunha’s offer came lightly, as if suggesting a casual outing.

She should have asked, Why would you? You hate me. But her gaze swept over the wreckage of her home. Even if she cleaned it up and laid out her bedding, she wouldn’t be able to rest here.

The cold November wind whistled through the shattered window. She could imagine exactly what it would be like to sleep here tonight.

“No.”

Yeongin shook her head.

“I’ll be fine.”

She wouldn’t be.

But taking Hyunha’s hand didn’t feel safe either—not after the cold eyes and the grip that had nearly crushed her wrist.

—Suit yourself.

The reply was flat, almost mocking.

—Good night.

The call ended as abruptly as it began. She shoved the phone back into her pocket.

If she wanted any sleep at all, she needed to finish cleaning. Grabbing the garbage bag again, she dragged it across the floor. Something inside must have torn the plastic—the bag grew lighter, spilling its contents.

She stared at what had fallen out, and her chest clenched as though someone had kicked her in the sternum.

There would be no sleeping tonight.

A sharp, muffled gasp escaped her in the dark.

Drenched in cold sweat, Yeongin sat up, pounding her chest. Breath rattled out of her in coughs before she rubbed the spot she’d just struck.

Another nightmare.