PEN Vol 3 Ch. 7

“…”

When Ha Yeoreum shot back, seemingly waiting for the chance, Cheon Sejoo remained silent, unable to find any words in response.

He had known Ha Yeoreum since their university orientation. Though she barely stood at 160 cm, her small stature belied a fierce spirit and sharp tongue that matched her intellect. The two had grown close after an incident during orientation.

At first, Yeoreum had assumed that Cheon Sejoo was making fun of her height and had cursed him out, but once she realized he wasn’t the type to bully others, they became good friends.

It was Yeoreum who had stayed by Cheon Sejoo’s side throughout the three days of his sister Hye-in’s funeral, even accompanying him to the crematorium.

When Cheon Sejoo learned the truth behind Hye-in’s suicide, kidnapped the perpetrators in an attempt to get revenge, and was eventually arrested by the police, it was Yeoreum who came to visit him in detention, asking why he did it and offering him comfort. During his trial, she gathered their classmates to write letters of appeal on his behalf, and when he was unexpectedly released due to insufficient evidence and disappeared, she spent over a year searching for him.

But in Cheon Sejoo’s defense, at the time, he hadn’t had the luxury to think about anything other than Hye-in’s death, and afterward, he was too ashamed to face Yeoreum, which is why he never reached out. Now, standing in front of her again, he still felt the same. Unable to meet her gaze, Cheon Sejoo averted his eyes.

Watching him, Yeoreum shook her head in disbelief as she lamented.

“This is unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable…”

Her words, barely above a whisper, seemed to carry the weight of her emotions as if she were holding back tears.

Looking back now, Cheon Sejoo realized just how much he had wronged her. After everything she had done to help him, not contacting her for five years was truly unforgivable. He was undeniably a hopeless piece of trash, and he couldn’t deny it.

But even now, when he should be saying “thank you” or “I’m sorry,” the words stuck in his throat. He feared that acknowledging her kindness and apologizing would inevitably rekindle their relationship. And the thought of her finding out what kind of life he was leading now—Cheon Sejoo was terrified she’d come to hate him.

As he remained silent, it was Ha Yeoreum who spoke first.

“Haa…You hurt your hand, I see.”

Without waiting for a reply, Yeoreum took hold of Cheon Sejoo’s right hand, which had been neatly resting on his lap, and inspected it. She dutifully examined the stab wound on both his palm and the back of his hand, fulfilling her role as a doctor.

“I don’t know how you got hurt, but the wound’s clean, so there’s no need for further treatment. It’ll heal nicely on its own, even without stitches. Just be careful not to use your right hand too much. To be safe, take some antibiotics for about three days, apply the ointment regularly, and watch for any signs of infection. You know this already, right? Of course you do. You graduated top of your class from Korea University’s medical school.”

“…Yeoreum-ah.”

“Your consultation is over. You can leave now.”

Her expression and tone turned cold as she dismissed him, even though moments ago, she had seemed on the verge of tears. Cheon Sejoo wanted to apologize, to say something—anything—but Yeoreum had already rung the bell and called for the next patient, leaving him, leaving him no room to speak. He had no choice but to stand up and leave.

But just as he reached the door, Yeoreum spoke again, her voice barely audible.

“Answer my calls.”

“…”

Without replying, Cheon Sejoo quietly closed the door behind him.

But Ha Yeoreum was the kind of person who couldn’t leave things unresolved. The door suddenly flung open, and with fierce eyes, she glared at him.

“I said, answer my calls.”

“Okay.”

Ha Yeoreum hadn’t changed at all.

Unlike him.

Cheon Sejoo realized this as he met her round, unwavering eyes and nodded. Only after he acknowledged her did Yeoreum, with tear-filled eyes, step back and let him go.

Cheon Sejoo stood in the hallway for a while, watching as the next patient entered the clinic, before turning to leave. After settling his bill and picking up his prescription at the pharmacy, he didn’t head home. Instead, he walked toward the riverside path along the Han River.

Perhaps because it was a weekday, there weren’t many people around the Han River. As a few people riding on bicycles passed by, Cheon Sejoo walked aimlessly with a blank expression on his face.

When Cheon Sejoo was eight years old, the moment he saw his little sister Hye-in, who had arrived amidst the sound of rain, he fell in love with her. He had thought he was all alone in the world, but upon realizing that he, too, had family, Cheon Sejoo cherished Hye-in’s existence more than anything else.

From the moment he held his younger sister in his arms, his life began to revolve around her.

Every day after school, he would run home as fast as he could just to see her a second sooner. While studying, he did so with the thought that one day, when Hye-in went to school, he would teach her everything he knew, and that pushed him to work hard. When Hye-in started walking and began to stumble and fall, Cheon Sejoo would frantically clear everything in her way, determined to remove any obstacle she might encounter.

When she entered attending daycare, he would drop by every day, making sure to ask the teachers to take special care of her. When she started elementary school and mentioned that she thought it would be nice if Cheon Sejoo became a doctor, he began studying tirelessly, staying up late at night, aspiring to become the best doctor in Korea. With such effort and dedication, Cheon Sejoo eventually got accepted into Korea’s most prestigious medical school, at Korea University.

All the effort he put in, all the hard work he endured since he was eight years old, everything he had achieved had been entirely for Hye-in.

He wanted to be the dependable family member that she could rely on, ensuring she would never feel the same sense of inadequacy he had. He worked hard to give her everything she needed so she would never lack anything. With her hand in his, Cheon Sejoo walked forward, never looking back, believing that as long as he held onto the warmth of her hand, she was happy.

But in focusing so much on that warmth, he failed to notice that Hye-in was gradually falling apart behind him.

And so, when Hye-in died, Cheon Sejoo’s world collapsed along with her.

His life lost all its purpose, and time stood still for him. His body may have continued to breathe and move, but from that day forward, Cheon Sejoo no longer felt alive.

It was as though he were trapped in a photograph.

His life was frozen in time, forever stuck in that moment, on that rainy day when he faced Hye-in’s death.

There was no past or future in that photo.

Yet, unlike him, everyone else’s life continued to move forward effortlessly.

His old classmate, Ha Yeoreum, had completed her long, grueling journey to become an orthopedic specialist and even opened her own orthopedic clinic. His other classmates had likely followed similar paths , their lives moving on uninterrupted. Their worlds had never stopped.

Cheon Sejoo felt a bitter resentment at that simple, undeniable truth. He was the only one left stuck in the past, letting five long years slip by. He felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness, but more than that, he began to despise himself for regretting the time he had lost.

Hye-in had died because of him.

She would be forever frozen at eighteen. Did he even have any right to regret his own wasted years?

He didn’t know the answer.

All he knew was that it was suffocating.

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

A month passed after Cheon Sejoo reunited with Yeoreum, and she eventually reached out to him. It seemed she had decided to forgive him after all.

Her casual message, asking how he was as if nothing had happened, brought Cheon Sejoo both relief and a pang of guilt. So, when they finally sat face-to-face for a meal after five years, the first thing Cheon Sejoo did was to apologize to her.

“It’s too late. I’m not accepting it. I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeoreum scoffed in response.

At this point, even if he apologized or explained himself, even if she understood where he was coming from, it wouldn’t change anything.

Yeoreum now knew that Cheon Sejoo was someone who could disappear from her life at any moment. While she didn’t know exactly what drove him to vanish abruptly, she could guess that he had his reasons, which is why she didn’t ask.

Because of this, she found it pointless to talk about the past, and Yeoreum didn’t want to dwell on it. The only reason she said she wouldn’t forgive him was because she wanted him to carry that guilt with him for a long time. Perhaps if he felt guilty, he wouldn’t disappear on her again without at least thinking twice.

“Well, looking at your face, I can see you’ve been doing well enough. Still annoyingly handsome, too. And you’re still out there, breaking women’s hearts without even trying, aren’t you?”

Yeoreum said this as she looked at Cheon Sejoo.

Rather than ask how he’d been, she pointed out that he hadn’t changed much, as if relieved to see he was still the same.

Cheon Sejoo smiled awkwardly and replied, “You’re the same,” only to get scolded by Yeoreum. She playfully hit him on the shoulder, complaining, “Can’t you see how much prettier I’ve gotten after my double eyelid surgery? How could you say I’m the same?”

Despite everything, Cheon Sejoo found his time with Yeoreum more enjoyable than he’d expected. She didn’t bring up the past, so contrary to his worries, Cheon Sejoo was able to relax and enjoy their meal together.

When he finally returned home, his heart felt noticeably lighter.