Sung-min woke up in a hospital bed. The first word that sprang from his lips was: “Hee-chul...” His voice was like a trigger to the person sitting beside him, who immediately leapt up and put her face close to his.

“Sung-min, you’re awake!” It was Boa. “Nurse! he’s awake.”

“Hee-chul,” Sung-min repeated, his voice gaining strength. He remembered the room with the mirrors and the man in the surgical mask. Although his memory was blurry, a sense of danger still lingered inside of him: that man with the surgical mask, the ghost and abductor who called himself Hee-chul, might be somewhere close.

“Is there something you need?” Boa asked him softly.

“Hee-chul,” he said, “the man wearing the surgical mask.”

Boa smiled. “You mean Dr. Kim Hee-chul, the surgeon?”

“He was wearing a surgical mask.”

“Yes, he’s the brain surgeon who gave you the operation.”

“Operation?” Sung-min felt light-headed. How come he knew nothing of this?

Boa’s voice became quiet. “Please don’t be concerned, but there was a shootout...”

“A police shootout,” Sung-min repeated. He knew this very well. “And someone was shot.”

Boa smiled weakly. “Yes, that’s right. You were shot.”

“Me? But I...” Sung-min trailed off. He couldn’t remember anything else.

“Everyone else is all right, but you were injured the worst. You had a bullet in your head, and you’ve been in a coma for a very long time. But the operation was successful and you are going to be okay.” She patted his hand and he stared at her blankly.

“How long have you been here?”

“Not long. I’ve been visiting every now and then, and you’ve had a few other visitors. All your colleagues came to wish you well, and you had another visitor, a young man who said you were a friend of his father.”

“Ryeo-wook?”

Boa shrugged. “I don’t remember his name. I think he left you a card.”

Sung-min continued gazing thoughtfully at Boa until the doctors arrived. “I had the strangest dream you know. You were there...” He turned to see the surgeon accompanied by a lanky orderly, holding a clipbook. “And you were there and you were there.”

Hee-chul had the mask pulled around his neck. “Hello Sung-min, welcome back to reality.”

“I saw you in the torture chamber.” Sung-min said.

Hee-chul chuckled. “We prefer to call it the operating theatre, but sure.” He motioned toward the orderly. “Kyu-hyun, where is the patient’s file?”

Sung-min watched as Kyu-hyun fumbled around in his notebook and Hee-chul held up some fingers in front of his face. His memory was blurred, but at the very least he could understand was that he was going to be okay and everyone was safe.
 

When Sung-min had recovered a little more, he finally got around to reading the card that Ryeo-wook had left for him.

Dear brave Sung-minnie, it began (and he had decorated the name with a love heart), I want you to read this when you are well and know that you are the most heroic policemen I have ever known.

Even though Ryeo-wook’s diehard affection for him was a little bit awkward, he couldn’t help but smile. He had spent his whole life cursing himself for his own cowardice, and now someone was calling him a hero.

I want to be able to sit with you and see you when you wake up, the letter continued, but I have to leave soon because I have passed an audition for a music show on the television. I will think about you constantly when I sing...

 

When Sung-min was finally discharged from the hospital, his life slowly went back to normal. On a Friday night he sat in a quiet noodle bar, watching a small blurry television over an empty bowl. It was late and the bar was empty, save for himself and the waitress. The waitress came over to take his bowl.

“Are you finished, Sung-min?” she asked. He nodded and then pointed to the television screen.

“I know him,” he said, “I knew him when he was a kid.”

The waitress smiled brightly. “That’s swell, Sung-min, you know someone from the television!” She went away and Sung-min continued to watch as Ryeo-wook began his song. He was smiling with pride, but his smile fell when he recognised he song his friend was singing.

“It’s a bit morbid,” the waitress said when she returned, taking a chair to sit by Sung-min. “The suicide song. I mean, it’s about preparing for death, isn’t it? But he sure sings well.”

Sung-min frowned. “Ryeo-wook’s really a cheerful guy, I don’t know why he chose to sing that song.” When the song was finished, Ryeo-wook brought his hand to his chest, and Sung-min thought he could see a ring on the left hand. There was something rather ominous about this, but he couldn’t quite determine what it might be.

The waitress turned off the television and they said goodnight.