Plot: As nine-year-old Soo Ha helplessly watches his father being murdered, he discovers a terrifying new ability: he can read the violent mind of his father’s killer.  Even with this new ability, Soo Ha is only saved from death himself when a passing girl catches the killer on camera.  Later, the girl saves him again by stepping forward as a witness just when the killer is about to go free.  Soo Ha, half in love already, promises to find the girl again and spend his life protecting her.  For ten long years, he searches for her, not realizing that the killer is loose and also looking…

Ssang Ko--I'm assuming this is a reference to one who had plastic surgery.

Episode One: I Hear Your Voice

It’s been said the eyes are the windows to the soul, that a person’s essence and desires are reflected through them.  Love.  Anger.  Despair.  Longing.  Madness.  All visible in the eyes, no matter what lies the expression might tell or words might attempt to hide.  There can be no hiding the soul.

He saw it all, of course, and probably would have even if their thoughts hadn’t been as clear to him as their voices.  Sometimes he wondered if he’d learned to read the eyes only because he’d already heard the thoughts behind them, or if the thoughts were open to him only because he’d already seen the truth in the eyes.  Most of the time, he just tried not to think about it, but it was harder some days than others.

This was one of the more difficult days.  He’d realized years before that blocking his ears blocked the thoughts, as well, but his headphones had slipped during a particularly jarring bus ride, falling to his neck just as the woman sitting next to him thought of the money she’d stolen from her aging father’s account.  Her thoughts were full of guilt, but she was also thinking how she might avoid punishment once her act was discovered, how she could use what she had taken, if she could do it again.

It would have depressed anyone, but this was hardly the first time he’d encountered the crueler side of human nature in his nineteen years, and it was far from the worst he’d seen.  Still, his expression was grim as he left the bus and the woman behind, sliding his headphones back over his ears as he walked the last few blocks to the high school. 

Perhaps his frown kept his peers away, or perhaps he’d been too aloof for too many years as he tried to avoid the thoughts of those around him, but Soo Ha’s classmates didn’t approach him that morning.  A few called out greetings, yet even those were mostly just polite, and he only nodded back.  He was far from unpopular and rarely disliked, but he still climbed the stairs to his third-story classroom alone and in silence, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his earphones still blocking out the world.

Of course, even with his ears stopped and his attention elsewhere, he couldn’t have missed the girl.  She was walking a few steps in front of him, and though he couldn’t see her eyes and certainly didn’t know her name even if they’d been in the same class for nearly a year, he recognized the depressed set of her shoulders and the glum expression on her pretty face.  Even without hearing her thoughts, he would have known she was expecting trouble and that she would break if it came.

And come it did.  Soo Ha signed inwardly as, only a step behind the girl, he took in the four students waiting for her inside the classroom.  Two, a girl with bright Yankee hair and a boy with slightly cruel eyes, were leaning a little too casually against the lockers, pretending to pose for a picture, two more boys standing in a corner by the window.  The girl stopped her pose and looked at the new arrival, her eyes turning mean.  “Hey, Ssang Ko,” she called, her tone already smug in spite of the insult as gum popped in .  “Grab that mop and clean up over there.”

He knew the Yankee girl, if only vaguely.  She’d been more or less chasing him since the school year had begun, but while he didn’t think about her enough to actually like or dislike her, he also knew this wasn’t the first time she’d played the bully.  Soo Ha looked at her, his own eyes narrowing as they locked on hers.

Did they properly put the glue on the mop?  Aish, it has to stick on right. 

So that was it.  Petty.  Juvenile.  Entirely in keeping with past actions.  He wondered how her victims ever fell for her tricks when they were so obvious.

Soo Ha turned his attention to her companion, the boy with the mean eyes.  His mental voice was less interested, even less spiteful but no less damning.  She’s gotta fall face first for it to be fun, he was thinking.  Maybe we should have put on more oil?

Soo Ha sighed more audibly this time, full lips briefly tightening against his irritation.  He was almost scowling as the victim set aside the trash can she’d been carrying and took a step forward, truly not understanding why she so meekly played the lamb in what she had to know would be a slaughter, but his expression smoothed out again as he grabbed her arm and gently pushed her behind him.  “I’ll take care of it, so you clean the window,” he told her without looking back.

The Yankee’s eyes widened as she realized what he intended, the boy at her side calling out in alarm as Soo Ha walked quickly across the room and grabbed the mop before any of them could actually stop him. 

Everyone seemed to freeze as Soo Ha’s long fingers closed on the wood, and he turned back to them, a carefully puzzled expression on his face now that the damage was already done.  “Why?”  Why are you trying to stop me?  Because you care, or just because I’m not the right victim?

They didn’t answer, but Soo Ha had already “discovered” the glue and was attempting to pull his fingers free.  “What’s wrong with this…?” 

The glue wasn’t truly strong enough to hold him, but they’d laid it on in thick, goopy clumps, and he could already feel it burying itself in the creases on his hands.  He made a great show of struggling with the broom anyway, staring at his fingers in disgust once he’d finally pulled his hand away.  “Is this glue?  Who put that on?”

He stepped back, as he’d known he should, and immediately slipped in the oil.  This part they had done right, and the fall wasn’t as fake as he might have wished.  His legs flew out from beneath him, his entire body crashing to the ground.  He landed on his back, barely keeping his head from slamming against the floor, and then waited for the reaction.

The girl he’d saved only looked worried, though he hadn’t missed the relief or frustration in her expression.  The mean-eyed boy was staring at him in clear irritation, insults flying from his lips as he lunged forward, hand raised.  Soo Ha didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what was coming, and he was immediately on his feet, sliding to the side and narrowly avoiding the half-hearted blow.  He didn’t acknowledge his attacker, instead stretching his back and pretending to be absorbed by the broom once against stuck to his skin.  “This isn’t coming off,” he muttered, his eyes focused on his hand. 

Angry now, the other boy tried again, but Soo Ha blocked with the broom, cracking the handle against the boy’s chest with just enough force to drive him back.  The boy’s eyes widened with surprise, but he immediately recovered and stepped to the side, pretending his chest didn’t hurt and that he hadn’t missed what should have been an easy shot.  His expression turned dark.

Soo Ha knew Mean Eyes was too angry now to realize the block had been too sharp to be only an accident or to understand just how badly he’d judged the situation, but Soo Ha was in the mood to teach a lesson, and he continued pretending to shake the broom in his hand.

The bully lunged again, his fist bunched and aimed for Soo Ha’s head, but Soo Ha was too quick to be caught that easily.  He lashed out with his foot, tripping Mean Eyes and bringing him to his knees.  The boy’s hands slapped against the floor as he belatedly stopped his own fall, his head nearly smacking against a bucket, and then he was on his feet again, ripping off his jacket and throwing out a challenge.

Soo Ha’s even teeth flashed in a smug smile.  “What’s wrong?” he asked, the smirk in his voice clear to everyone else.

He was no longer pretending, and this only seemed to anger his opponent even more.  “Hey, this guy wants to put up a fight today,” the bully snarled.  “Okay, Park Soo Ha, you’re going into a coffin today.”

Soo Ha’s eyes were bright with mockery, but he managed to push the grin from his face.  “Why are you like that?” he asked, voice heavy with false concern.  “You’re being so scary.” 

“Shut up, bastard!”  The other boy lunged again, this time bringing his leg up to for an impressively high kick Soo Ha still dodged easily.

Mean Eyes didn’t even pause.  He kicked again, then tried to strike with his fist.  Soo Ha dodged each blow, finally using the broom handle to block a particularly energetic kick.  The handle snapped under the force of it, and as the boy clutched at his foot and grunted in pain, Soo Ha finally dropped the broom.

The loss of his handicap made dodging even easier, but just as Soo Ha was getting annoyed and thinking of ways to end the conflict, he made the mistake of looking into the other boy’s eyes.

There was rage there, fueled by embarrassment and the surprised, sudden understanding that he was no match for Soo Ha.  There was also determination, a refusal to admit defeat, a willingness to take this too far if it meant saving face. 

Soo Ha’s expression became sharp, hard.  He was no longer enjoying himself, no longer just teaching a lesson.  He recognized the furious desperation in the boy’s face and knew this needed to end. 

Soo Ha spun, sending a foot into Mean Eye’s chest.  His much longer legs made the move easy, but the force behind it spoke of tight muscle and carefully honed reflexes.  The boy fell to the ground, actually sliding into the other two students as he clutched his chest in pain.  He struggled for air and didn’t get up again.

Remorse came then, because determined or not, this boy could never match the years spent training to fight and defend, and it was petty of him to take pleasure in that.  Perhaps the bully had learned his lesson and wouldn’t be as quick to attack in the future; perhaps not, but Soo Ha should have been man enough himself not to let it go that far.  This wasn’t why he’d learned to fight.

He could feel his classmates’ stares as he turned and slipped out of the room, not even winded but uneasy with the sudden attention.  None of them had known he could fight at all, let alone that he could fight so well, and he was annoyed with himself for letting his pride determine his actions and possibly create enemies where enemies didn’t need to exist. 

He had enough enemies.

By the time Soo Ha returned to the classroom, the broom handle had disappeared.  The floor still looked suspiciously slick, but most of the oil seemed to have been scraped away, and his opponent and his friends were already in their seats.  They kept their faces carefully turned away as Soo Ha moved beyond them to take his own seat, but he could feel the tension in them.  He knew they were waiting for more, either from him or from their defeated classmate, and while he wasn’t interested in continuing the fight and almost regretted getting involved at all, this was becoming a distraction he neither needed nor wanted.  Better to end this before their fear turned to anger and they responded with something worse than a prank. 

When home room ended and the bully stood and left the room, Soo Ha followed. 

He found the other boy—what was his name?—in the bathroom, leaning against a wall and speaking quickly into his cell phone.  He sounded annoyed, perhaps even a little nervous, as he insisted that he’d only slipped and was still jjang even if he’d technically lost the fight.

Soo Ha hid his surprise, not understanding how someone so easily beaten could have risen to jjang in the first place, then deciding it didn’t matter.  He was here to smooth things over, prevent this from becoming a nuisance in the future, and not take an interest in school politics. 

Soo Ha waited until the other boy was standing in front of a urinal before approaching and taking a place at the next stall over. 

“Liar,” he said. 

The jjang jumped, irritation and then unease flashing across his face as he realized who was beside him.  He glared at Soo Ha for an instant, then turned his eyes back to his stall.  “You scared me,” he snapped. 

Soo Ha kept his voice calm as he made use of his own urinal.  “To believe that you slipped is to cut yourself too much slack,” he said.  “You strained yourself too much.” 

The boy didn’t answer, kept his eyes on the urinal and the no longer steady stream he was producing.

Soo Ha rolled his eyes.  “Ay.  Why are you getting scared?  Don’t trickle and do your business comfortably.”  His own stream certainly wasn’t as weak. 

The bully flushed.  He didn’t respond to what had become the most immature of contests, though the small, petty part of Soo Ha took mild satisfaction in other comparisons the boy was likely making.  Still, he waited until the other boy was finished and washing his hands before following him to the sinks and speaking again.  “You must be curious how I won.”

Curiosity was indeed battling with lingering fear, and even Soo Ha might not have known which was stronger had he not looked the boy in the eyes.

This guy’s like a ghost.

He wasn’t only thinking of the way Soo Ha had dodged, how he’d managed to slip away from every attack without any effort at all.  He was thinking of how little Soo Ha spoke, how he didn’t have any real friends and barely seemed to interact with anyone at all.  He was thinking how little he knew of Soo Ha, how little any of them knew of him.  How little they knew of his weaknesses.  How had he learned to fight so well, and if he could fight like that, why hadn’t he ever tried to take over? 

It was such a petty concern that Soo Ha could only smile.  “Shall I teach you?”

The other boy scowled.  “No, thanks,” he countered instantly, irritation once again beating back the healthy fear he’d just started to develop. 

He started to turn away, but Soo Ha reached, lightening quick, for the boy’s collar.  He spun the jjang back to face him, looked into his eyes and, with a suddenly serious expression, said, “You see…looking at people’s eyes…” He released the boy’s shirt and instead grabbed his chin, his grip hard enough that the other boy didn’t immediately try to pull away.  “…I can read that person’s intentions.  Their thoughts, where they’ll hit, even where they’re going to run…”

He deliberately trailed off, noting how wide the boy’s eyes had gone, the shock that slackened his features.  “Re-really?!”

Soo Ha scoffed and released the boy’s chin, his laughter convincing and entirely false.  “It’s a lie,” he scoffed.  “You fell for it?”  He smiled, dropping his hands to his hips.  “Hey.  How can there be secret tricks?  You just slipped.”

Relief spread across the boy’s face.  “Right!  That was it!”  The relief faded, replaced by a milder version of irritation.  “Feel thankful for that,” he said, bravado already returning. 

He looked away, but not quickly enough to block his thoughts.

What a weak orphan.  I’m giving you a break because you’re so pitiful.

It would have been the wrong thing to say, but he couldn’t have known it was just as wrong to think.  He didn’t look up in time to see Soo Ha’s lip curl, to see the dark eyes harden, to see the expression become dangerously still.  

Soo Ha didn’t even try to control his expression this time, and when the boy finally did look up, he took a visible step back.  “What, what, what?” he demanded, backpedalling furiously. 

The fear had returned to the jjang’s face, but Soo Ha only turned and walked away before he did something else he’d regret.

This time, as he walked the halls, it wasn’t the frown that kept people away, but the tight anger still in his face.  He ignored them all, quickly walking out the school doors and stopping only when he reached the stairs leading into the school.  He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, trying to push back the memories and the despair.

His fingers found the cell phone he’d been keeping in his pocket, reached for the small charm dangling from it.  The charm was a cheap thing, tarnished and worn, a single cherubim holding a tiny blue stone, and his expression turned sad as he stared at it.

If I’m not alone, then nothing in this world can scare me.

He slipped his headphones over his ears, thoughts drifting as the familiar song shut out the world.

The song playing on the radio was one of his dad’s favorites, and Soo Ha had long since learned the words.  He was singing along now, his child’s voice high and unsteady but happy.  “I’ll be next to you forever…” From the corner of his eye, he could see the angel on the rear-view mirror dance with the movements of the car.  The angel was also one of his dad’s favorites; he said it reminded him of Soo Ha’s mother, watching over them and keeping them safe. 

The headlights from a passing vehicle lit the interior long enough for Soo Ha to see his dad’s fond smile.  He glanced over at his young son.  “This time, are there any usable coupons?” he asked. 

It was Soo Ha’s job to keep track of the coupons, but it wasn’t a task the child minded.  His father always let him pick the restaurant, and it wasn’t like either of them could really cook. 

Soo Ha glanced down at the booklet in his hands.  “Yeah.  There’s a pizza salad coupon…and Aquaquest is forty percent off on weekdays.” 

His father glanced at him again, this time puzzled.  “What’s Aquaquest?”

Soo Ha sent an incredulous look his father’s way.  “Dad, you don’t know Aquaquest?  In our country, it’s the best aquarium.”  How could anyone not know that, especially someone as smart as his dad?  “This—you have to go.”

His father sighed.  “Eh…aquariums are boring.  I’ve gone to too many.”

Soo Ha made a face.  “I haven’t gone.  Not once since I was born.  Because of that, let’s go next week!  Hmm?”

His dad was openly laughing now.  “Okay.  Aren’t there any coupons for weekends instead of weekdays?  I can’t go on the weekdays.”

Soo Ha turned suddenly glum eyes on his father.  “It’s only thirty percent off on the weekends.” 

His father smiled as he entered the intersection.  “What a waste.”  He was already thinking of what he’d have to do to rearrange his schedule and make time for the aquarium.

Soo Ha was still looking at his father, considering how he might convince his father to go, but then his eyes widened.  Even at nine, Soo Ha knew the truck shouldn’t have been that close, that it was going to hit them.

There wasn’t even time to shout a warning. 

Soo Ha barely felt the impact, at least not at first.  He didn’t feel the side of his father’s car crumple, or feel his own body jerking against the seatbelt.  He didn’t feel the pain as his head hit the dashboard.  He had eyes only for his father.  He could see the surprise on his father’s face, then the horror as his father was surrounded by thousands of tiny shards of glass from the shattering window. 

Truck and car slid across the intersection, and only then did the pain register.  Everything went black, mercifully black, and by the time Soo Ha regained consciousness, it was over.  His head was on fire, his entire body ached too much to move, and what he’d later realize was blood was too warm against the side of his pale face, but it was the despair in his father’s voice that brought Soo Ha back.

“Soo Ha…”

His father’s voice was so weak, so frightened, and that terrified Soo Ha more than the accident itself ever could have.  His father was never afraid.

He forced his eyes open.  It was harder than it should have been.  “Dad…”

There was blood on his father’s face, cuts from the glass and the force of the crash, but even in the haze of pain, the man’s concern was still for his son.  “Are you injured?” he asked, and Soo Ha wondered why his father wasn’t moving.  “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Soo Ha realized he couldn’t move, either.  The pain had turned his arms and legs to water, and he didn’t have the strength.  “My head…hurts…” he managed to whisper.

“Hold on for a bit,” his father said, his voice now pleading.  “Stay conscious!  Huh?”

Soo Ha tried to nod, could only swallow painfully instead.  It hurt too much to speak.

Outside the car, out of hearing, the driver of the truck had pushed open his door and jumped to the asphalt.  His boots crunched on broken glass, but his steps were steady as he slowly approached the broken car.  He peered through the shattered windshield, pounding on the glass and watching for any signs of life.

Soo Ha’s father, voice still dazed, looked at the man he thought would be their savior.  “Excuse me,” he ground out, polite even now, “please get us out of here.  My kid is hurt.”

The words ended in a sob, but the man jerked back as if stung, eyes widening. 

That bastard is still breathing.

Soo Ha, watching in a daze and still unable to move, jerked in shock as the man’s grating mental voice filled his head.  The boy’s eyes widened, filled with fear.

I should have killed him in one go.

Soo Ha never doubted what he’d heard, never wondered if he was imagining the words.  With a child’s simplicity, Soo Ha accepted that he’d heard this man’s thoughts, but any questions he might have had were trumped by pure fear.

The man was shaking his head, disappointed.  It’s become too much work.

“Excuse me,” Soo Ha’s father was saying again, his words now slurred from injury and pain even if his eyes were open.  “Please open the door.”

The man spun suddenly, running back to his truck, and Soo Ha forced words past his dry tongue.  “Dad…run away…”

His father looked at him without comprehension.

“That person…to us…”

The warning failed.  The man returned, jumped onto the hood of the car and raised the steel pipe in his hands.  He brought it down on the windshield, breaking what was left, sending more glass into the car and then using his foot to kick the rest out of the way.  Then, as Soo Ha began to shake and his father started to cry out, he raised the pipe again.

The first blow landed with a sickening thud, blood spraying in all directions, and by the second, Soo Ha was screaming.  He barely felt the warmth of his father’s blood on his face as the man leapt to the ground, pulled Soo Ha’s door aside and looked down on the child of the man he’d just brutally murdered.

Soo Ha looked into the face of his father’s killer, and even through his fear, he could see the satisfaction in the man’s expression.  There was no remorse there.  No pity.  Only a calm sort of fury.

The killer lifted the pipe…

A much older Soo Ha lifted his face to the sun, suddenly cold fingers continuing to caress the angel he’d taken from his father’s car.  He’d pulled the headphones away, closed his eyes.

Ever since that day, there are two kinds of sound that exist in my world, he thought.  One is the sound everyone else can hear.  And the other…the sound only I can hear.

Soo Ha opened his eyes, let them focus on a student coming up the stairs.

I heard that Soo Ha, that punk, beat up Joon Gi.  Is that true?

The boy seemed more disgusted than surprised, as if a hero had fallen from a pedestal, and Soo Ha looked instead at the teacher standing a few feet away, frantically searching his pockets.

Where did I put my cell phone?  Aish, where is it?

Two girls were mounting the steps, one hanging on the other, who just looked sympathetic.

Ugh, how uncomfortable.  It’s only the second day of my period.  Should I skip the class?

Soo Ha looked away, thoughts dark, already lifting his headphones back to his ears. 

My world, compared to other people’s world, is a lot noisier. 

He didn’t return to class.  An hour passed, then another, and by then it was lunch time.  Soo Ha remained on the steps, now sitting, his thoughts clearer but his heart still heavy.  He watched as students broke off in pairs or groups, listened to their laughter.  He never thought of joining them or even of seeking out his own lunch.  He had no appetite.

The Yankee girl found him there a little while later.  She slid onto the step beside him, wordlessly handed him a jar of pink liquid.  He took it automatically, frowned down at it.  “What’s this?”

She pulled a piece of cloth from a plastic bag.  “Clean your hand with this,” she told him, holding the cloth out.

He took that, as well, though he couldn’t help scoffing a little.  “Using this cleans it up?”  Did she even realize how thick the glue was? 

She glanced over at him as he began cleaning his hands. “Park Soo Ha.  Back there, why’d you do that?”  Her voice turned slightly petulant.  “Why ruin our prank on Ssang Ko?” 

He wasn’t surprised that she’d guessed the truth.  He’d let it be too obvious at the end.  Still, he didn’t look at her.  “Pranking Ssang Ko?  I didn’t know you were.” 

“Liar.  You did that because you knew.”

He had nothing to gain from the truth.  “I told you, I didn’t know.” 

Soo Ha continued wiping his hands, and, more to change the subject than anything, said, “Oh, wow, this really cleans it up.”

And it had.  The glue was all but gone, though his fingers still felt just a little sticky. 

“You like Ssang Ko, right?”

The question caught him off guard, and he finally looked at her, surprised by the absurdity of it.  Why would she think that?  He hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with the girl the entire year.  He didn’t even know her real name.

And he had someone else. 

“No,” he said, smiling a little incredulously. 

She frowned.  “On Valentine’s Day, you told me you had someone you liked.”  She looked down at her nails, then hesitantly back at him.  “That’s why you didn’t take any chocolate.”

Had she offered him chocolate?  He didn’t remember.  “Yeah.  I have someone that I like.”

She stopped pretending to be interested in her nails.  “Who is it?”

Could it be me?

He smiled.  “Could you be thinking that it’s yourself?”

She backpedaled furiously.  “Are you crazy?  I didn’t think it was me!”

Her voice was too loud, too nervous, and for some reason, he found himself warming to her, just a little.  He didn’t approve of the bullying, but maybe she wasn’t so bad.

Of course, she had to ruin it.  “Who’s the ?”

She looked angry now, maybe a little defiant.  Is it his first love?

It was true enough, and he didn’t see any point in denying it when it might make her stop chasing after him.  “It’s my first love.”

She looked disappointed.  “Who is your first love?”

Is she pretty?  Nice?

“She’s pretty.  To die for.”

She wasn’t the type to stay down for long.  She visibly steeled herself, then told him, “Don’t be fooled by a girl’s looks.  Teacher says that looks only last when she’s young.”

He smiled.  “She isn’t just pretty.  Nice.  She’s nice and smart.  This world’s best woman.”

The girl looked away, disappointed again, but Soo Ha didn’t even notice.  He was lost in his own thoughts again, this time seeing not blood and death but courage and determination set in a pretty face.

Jang Hye Sung, where are you?