Miryeong could not move from that spot for a long while.
The healer’s hands moved back and forth,
cloth was changed,
water splashed,
people spoke—
but those sounds were distant.
Though they came from right beside her, they were thin and blurred, as if echoing from beyond a wall.
Miryeong’s gaze remained fixed on the bed.
Melanie’s face.
It felt strange that that face had been breathing just moments ago.
She had been here just now.
That thought kept circling in her head.
Miryeong looked at her own hands.
They were red.
Blood was not the only thing that was red.
Her palms were hot,
and that heat would not easily fade.
Miryeong bent and straightened her fingers slightly.
Her joints had stiffened rigidly.
The feeling of blood drying and pulling at her skin was holding on not to “now,” but to “a little while ago.”
The fishy smell followed late.
Between the scent of the healer’s water and medicine, the smell of blood remained until the end,
and nothing could cover it.
The blood on her palms was drying, cracking like lines.
The thought that she should wipe her hands did not come.
Because if she wiped them, it felt as if it would truly be over.
The parts of her hair that fell over her shoulders were also soaked red.
Enough that, for a moment,
she forgot what color white had originally been.
Even feeling that, Miryeong did not raise her hand.
Instead,
she carefully took Melanie’s hand.
Her fingertips were cold.
Even so, if she held on, it felt as though she might come back.
“Hey.”
Her lips barely moved.
No answer came back.
Miryeong knew what that silence meant, but she did not want to know.
So she drew in a breath.
And, very quietly, said again,
“Hey.”
As if calling her name could bring her back.
The sound of the door opening came from behind.
At first, Miryeong did not recognize it.
Footsteps.
Several of them.
Different rhythms flowed into the room.
The sound of someone steadying their breath.
The rustle of clothing.
Only then did Miryeong’s gaze move slowly.
People were standing at the doorway.
Bido, Erdin, Mendel.
And—
Rangnan and Aslo.
For a moment,
everyone held their breath at the same speed.
Bido bit the inside of her lip once.
A habit of closing her mouth first,
before any words could come out.
Erdin lifted his gaze, then immediately lowered it.
Mendel curled his fingers once.
It was not even a clenched fist, yet his palm turned white, then returned to its color.
Aslo lowered his head, but did not close his eyes.
Because he knew that if he closed them,
the image would return for even longer later.
They did not take even a single step inside.
The moment they saw the bed,
no one spoke.
Bido’s gaze touched Melanie, then moved to Miryeong.
The hand held in Miryeong’s grasp.
The hair dyed red.
Bido could not tear her eyes away from that scene.
Erdin started to take one step forward, then stopped.
Mendel bit his lip.
Aslo quietly lowered his head.
Rangnan said nothing.
That silence settled over the room.
Still holding Melanie’s hand, Miryeong said in a low voice,
“I still…”
The end of her sentence did not continue.
Miryeong gripped Melanie’s hand even tighter once more.
As if, should someone tell her to let go, she would not be able to resist.
The air in the room grew a little heavier.
No one had yet spoken the conclusion.
Without taking her eyes off the bed, Miryeong said,
“Why does she have to be lying here?”
Her voice was not high.
Nor did it tremble.
That was why it lingered in the room even longer.
For a while, no one answered.
Beside her, the healer lowered their head and withdrew their hands.
Miryeong’s question had not been directed at anyone,
but it reached everyone.
Rangnan stepped forward.
His gaze was not on Melanie, but on Miryeong.
“That,”
Rangnan chose his words for a moment, then continued quietly,
“that is the place we chose.”
The air sank once.
“It was not chosen by one person alone.”
Miryeong’s hand gripped Melanie’s a little tighter.
The coldness between her fingers became even clearer.
No words came back.
Bido simply stood there.
The thought that she had to say something brushed past her,
but no words could take shape.
Only the fact that she was included in that “we” grew clearer.
Bido’s gaze lingered for a moment on Miryeong’s reddened hair again.
Then,
it lowered to Melanie’s face.
And once more, back to Miryeong.
Her lips parted ever so slightly, then closed again.
Aslo remained with his head bowed, saying nothing.
In the end, Mendel averted his gaze.
Erdin stood motionless, staring at the tips of his feet.
Miryeong did not look at Rangnan.
Nor did she answer.
Instead, she did not let go of Melanie’s hand.
As if the moment she let go, everything would truly be over.
Only the weight of that choice remained in the room.
Rangnan looked at Miryeong.
At that face that said nothing.
At the sight of her remaining there, neither crying nor lifting her head.
Rangnan did not forcibly shake that state.
“For a moment.”
He spoke low.
“We will be outside.”
Aslo nodded first.
Mendel looked at Miryeong once more, then bit his lip and turned away.
Erdin could not move his feet, and only when he felt Bido’s gaze did he move toward the door.
Bido looked at Miryeong until the end.
She could not tell what she ought to say.
Are you all right,
I’m sorry—right now, all of it seemed too light.
Bido took one step closer, then stopped.
And,
without saying a word, she bowed her head.
That was all she could do.
Soon, Bido quietly closed the door and left.
Now only Miryeong and Melanie remained in the room.
Miryeong did not move for a long time.
Her hand was still over Melanie’s.
She slowly drew in a breath.
And let it out.
That process was not easy.
Something kept rising from deep inside her chest.
Miryeong did not force it down.
Instead,
she swallowed it.
One by one.
As if learning how to breathe all over again.
Miryeong looked at Melanie’s face one last time.
She took in each contour of that face with her eyes.
The eyebrows, the shadow of her cheek,
the small wound that remained at the corner of her mouth.
When she had been alive, that face had always been noisy,
but now it was so terribly quiet that Miryeong could not look away.
Miryeong reached out her hand, then stopped.
Her fingertips trembled once in the air.
Because touching someone’s forehead
was a gesture to check for fever.
Right now, she did not want to make that confirmation.
Because the moment she confirmed it,
the word “still” might no longer be able to cling anywhere.
So Miryeong lowered her hand and took hold of the edge of the cloth first.
The cloth was lighter than she had expected,
and that lightness was, rather, heavy.
And then,
carefully, she pulled the cloth up.
Her hand trembled for a very brief moment—
but it did not stop.
After straightening the cloth, Miryeong withdrew her hand.
Only then did she stand.
It was not that she had become strong yet.
Not yet,
nor was she all right.
But,
she did not collapse either.
She simply stood there.
—
It was after the door had closed.
Outside the infirmary, it was strangely quiet.
No one spoke first.
Rangnan stood with his back against the wall, eyes closed.
Aslo had his hands clasped, his head bowed.
Mendel stared at the door for a long while and could not tear his eyes away.
Erdin stood there like someone who could not decide what he was supposed to do.
Bido stood alone a little distance away.
Her gaze was directed at the floor.
There was nothing beneath her feet,
but her eyes would not leave that spot.
Hajin’s face flashed through her mind.
Those rampaging eyes,
the moment she had stopped them,
and—
the scene she had failed to protect in the end.
Then and now overlapped.
Again.
Bido’s hand slowly curled inward.
Her palm tightened painfully.
This time, too, she had been late.
For a moment, Bido wondered whether she was allowed to stand here.
She drew in a breath.
It did not enter properly.
Still, she exhaled.
Again.
She repeated that process again and again.
Bido did not raise her head.
She did not think someone would be crying beyond the door.
Because she knew Miryeong would not cry.
That was why her chest tightened even more.
Everyone standing here was swallowing the same thing.
In a way that did not speak.
A bell rang.
Once.
It was the sound announcing evening in Schia.
It was not high,
and it was distant.
Even so, it reached Bido’s ears with strange clarity.
At that sound, her breath came in one beat late.
Bido did not lift her head.
When that sound ends,
does today end as well?
Before the thought could take shape, the bell rang again.
A second time.
Its lingering echo, stretching a little longer, flowed along the walls of the infirmary.
Inside Bido’s chest, something fell with a dull thud.
The bell rang for the third time.
This time, a little lower.
It was the signal that the sun was setting.
Only then did Bido truly feel that time had passed.
She had done nothing,
yet the world was moving on to what came next as if nothing had happened.
Bido looked at the closed door of the infirmary.
A door that would not open.
She tried not to think about what Miryeong was swallowing inside.
The light of dusk descended along the wall.
The white wall briefly turned red.
Like blood.
Bido turned her gaze away from that color.
The bell no longer rang.
That day’s evening had already begun,
and Bido could not stand at its beginning.
She simply stood there, left behind.