The moment the name left my lips, my mother froze.
"Mom!!!" I called again as she trembled and slowly turned back toward me, her face folding into fear.
"Wh-… where did you hear that name?" she whispered. "And why are you asking?"
"Nothing, Mom," I said quickly. "I just… wanted to know if you've heard it. But forget it."
My mother didn't look convinced, but she didn't push more. I watched her carefully as she tried to walk away, her steps unsteady, her fingers twitching like she was trying to hide something she didn't want me to drag out. Something about the name Eunwoo had shaken her.
Before she could escape into her room, I spoke again.
"Mom… what exactly killed Dad?"
She stopped mid-step. A long, shaky silence grew between us before she finally turned around slowly, her eyes suddenly wet and frightened.
"Jina… what are you trying to do? Why are all these questions coming now?"
"Mom, it's nothing," I insisted. "I just want to know. Again. It shouldn't cost anything to know, right?"
My mother stood there for a moment—like she was deciding whether to tell me or to shut the conversation down. Then she exhaled deeply, walked toward the couch, and sat down. I followed quietly, my heart pounding.
"That day…" she began softly. "That faithful day your father died…"
Her voice cracked. She swallowed and forced herself to continue.
"He came home fast—too fast. I heard the sound of his car and rushed to welcome him. But he didn't greet me properly. He just nodded, stiffly, and went straight to the study room."
She paused.
"As usual, he locked the door behind him. From inside."
I leaned forward. "And then?"
"At first, everything was quiet," she whispered. "Then I heard him scream."
My stomach dropped.
"I thought maybe he was on a call. Or maybe he saw something shocking on his laptop. But then he screamed again—louder—and the sound that followed…" She shut her eyes. "It sounded like his body hit the floor."
My breath hitched.
"I rushed to the door. I knocked, I called his name, but there was no response. I had to force the door open." Her voice trembled. "And when I did… I found your father lying on the floor. Half-dead."
Her eyes glazed as she relived the moment.
"That was the first time I ever saw inside his study room," she continued. "He never allowed anyone in. Not even me."
I swallowed, watching her closely. There was something she didn't want to say—something sitting at the back of her throat, trying to stay hidden.
"So Mom," I asked softly, "when you opened the door… did you see anyone? Or anything at all? A break-in? Something unusual?"
She shook her head vigorously.
"The study has only one tiny window," she said. "Very tall, very narrow. A human can't get through. And the window was untouched. Perfectly closed."
"So what happened then?"
"I called 911. The ambulance came and I followed them to the hospital. And… within seconds of arriving, they declared him dead."
My heart twisted. I had always been told he collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. This was entirely different. Horrifyingly different.
"And Mom… what did they say killed him?" I pushed.
My mother inhaled sharply and then answered:
"They found nothing wrong with him."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing," she repeated. "No signs of struggle. No wounds. No toxins. Nothing in the autopsy. They said he was perfectly healthy. Yet he was dead."
A chill washed over me.
Something was wrong. Something was deeply, deeply wrong.
"Which hospital was he admitted to?" I asked.
My mother snapped her head toward me, eyes wide and stern—this time with fear, not anger.
"Jina," she said slowly, "you've grown. You're responsible. But please…" Her voice trembled. "Leave everything concerning your father alone."
She stood up as if to end the conversation.
"I believe it must have been shock," she said shakily. "Maybe he saw something on his phone… or something happened inside that room."
My mind jolted.
"Then where is Dad's phone?" I asked.
Her voice sharpened. "Jina. I told you. By the time I returned from the hospital, the house had burned down. Completely."
"But you still have his camera," I countered. "How did that survive?"
At first my mother didn't want to talk. I could see it—the hesitation, the fear, the memories fighting inside her. But after a long silence, she finally answered.
"It was in his car," she whispered.
"His car?"
"Yes… he parked it far from the house that day. And when I got to it, the camera was already broken."
That meant… the camera broke before the fire.
"So where is Dad's car now?" I asked carefully.
At once, my mother shot to her feet.
"Jina, enough!" she snapped, the fear in her voice louder than her words. "You are my only daughter. I don't want you going down this path. Not this path, Jina. It's too dangerous!"
She hurried toward her room, but halfway there, she stopped and added sharply:
"Your school messaged. Classes resume Monday. So I believe everything has been sorted."
And just like that, she disappeared into her room.
But I stood there frozen, staring at her closed door.
How can people be this blind and dumb?
School would resume soon, and everyone would pretend nothing happened?
Hae's death forgotten?
Covered up?
Erased?
What about Hae's family? Why were they so silent?
And Yen… was she even alive?
I whispered the thoughts aloud to myself, pacing slowly.
"I don't even know if Yen is alive or dead…"
I sighed deeply, almost exhausted from thinking, as I walked into my room.