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…

“I Hear Your Thoughts”

Episode One: Part Two

“Who is your first love?”  Is she pretty?  Nice?

“She’s pretty.  To die for.”

Jang Hye Sung walked briskly up the street, briefcase in hand, gaze straight ahead, heels clicking in a perfectly straight line against the pavement.  She was frowning slightly, her dark eyes cold and hard in a pale, finely sculpted face, her normally full mouth thinned with irritation.  She would have been beautiful if she hadn’t looked so rigid. 

“Don’t be fooled by a girl’s looks.  Teacher says that looks only last when she’s young.”

The suit she wore was just as severe as her expression, professional if not exactly expensive.  It wasn’t a remarkable outfit, just a dark jacket and skirt set over a white blouse, but she knew it also showed off her naturally shapely legs and trim waist.  She was fairly proud of her figure, if only because, even at twenty-six, she’d never needed to work out to maintain it.  If anything, she looked better now than she had in high school. 

He smiled.  “She isn’t just pretty.”

She stopped as a basketball bounced into a puddle at her feet, splashing mud across her legs. 

“Hey, lady, can you pass the basketball back?”

A group of high school boys were watching her expectantly, sweat dripping down their faces and exhaustion in their expressions.  Two of them waved, friendly enough but still impatient.

She bent to wipe the mud from her leg, then bent again to lift the ball with the hand not holding the briefcase.  She picked it up, looked at them with an annoyed sigh, and then threw the ball over her shoulder.  It bounced down the hill, hitting fence posts and cars, and the boys, startled and angry, ran after it.

Hye Sung walked past them without a backward glance.

“Nice.  She’s nice and smart.  This world’s best woman.”

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The sign above the door was lit in an ugly yellow, the words declaring the court hearing was in session etched in an equally ugly green. 

Inside the room, perched a little too casually in a rather uncomfortable chair, Hye Sung twirled a pencil in her fingers as she mechanically read her prepared statement.

“Honorable Judges, Lee Young Cheol, the defendant, acknowledges the truth of the indictment and is reflecting deeply.”

Her voice was bored, maybe a little annoyed, and she never even looked at the forlorn man sitting beside her. 

“Currently, the defendant…”  She paused, glanced at her client, and without softening her voice, asked, “Do you have a mother?”

The man, surprised at being acknowledged in any way, stammered out an affirmative.

Hye Sung looked back at her statement, her voice again becoming monotonous.  “…currently, the defendant is supporting his aged mother and struggles to live.”

One of the judges began shaking his head, and even he couldn’t tell if it was more in admiration for her fearlessness or plain disgust.

Hye Sung didn’t even notice.  “Just think how sad the aged mother of the accused would feel…”

Another client, another crime, the same statement. 

“Honorable judges, defendant Joo Hyun Jung acknowledges the accusation and reflects deeply…”

The judges, more than familiar with her after so much time, began mouthing her words along with her, but she still wasn’t interested enough to look at them and wouldn’t have cared if she had.

“The defendant…is your mother alive?”

The woman beside her grimaced.  “No.”

“…the defendant, who lost her mother at an early age, has been living with loneliness.  Please consider the defendant’s hardships…”

“Well, she passed away last year,” the client hesitantly corrected.

Hye Sung didn’t even blink.  “She also carries the trauma of having lost her mother recently.  Please consider the defendant’s suffering…”

More than the judges were shaking their heads now, and most of them were feeling pity for the defendants.

The hearings ended, the judges returned home, and Hye Sung walked a little more slowly through the justice building’s courtyard.  She wasn’t smiling, but her stance less rigid as she held a phone loosely to her ear.  “I was in the middle of a court hearing, so how was I supposed to pick up the phone?”

Across town, Eo Choon Shim stepped out from behind the counter of the restaurant, wiping one hand on her apron while the other held her own phone to her ear.  “Isn’t your public defender interview tomorrow?”  She sat at one of the small tables, all of which were empty at this hour.  The evening rush would start soon, but she had a little time to speak to her only daughter.  “Did you prepare everything?”

Hye Sung was dismissive.  “Everyone that applies for it gets the job.”  She paused beside a woman handing out Sticky Note pads for a new business.  The woman handed a small, plastic wrapped bundle of notes to her, and Hye Sung began to walk away.  “Why would I prepare?  How embarrassing.” 

Her mother was less apathetic.  “Hey, you!  Do you still have some pride left to be embarrassed?  If you have it, then hurry and repay the money you borrowed!  I’m not going to be a mom that has to financially support her lawyer daughter.”

Hye Sung rolled her eyes. “Mom, do you watch the news?  Recently, the legal profession is in a slump.  There are too many lawyers and not enough cases.”  She one heel and began walking back to the woman still handing out Sticky Notes.  “One out of six lawyers in our country makes less than two million won a month.”  She held out her hand, and the woman, recognizing her, hesitantly gave her another note pad.

Choon Shim was shouting now.  “Two….?  You said you made 880,000 won!”

Hye Sung wasn’t any more intimidated by her mother than she’d been by the judges.  Voice calmer, she still didn’t miss a beat before responding, “It’s because I was born in the 880,000 won generation.  It’s not my fault; I was just born at the wrong time.”

“I’ve had enough,” her mother snapped, cutting off anything else Hye Sung might have said to plead her own case.  “If you get the job, then you will earn the salary on a regular paycheck, right?  And when you start getting paid, I’m going to be taking it.” 

“I got it,” Hye Sung said tiredly, knowing she’d won for now but also knowing her mother was right.

“Hye Sung, I’m warning you, you better get the job as a public defender.  If it boils down to it, I don’t care if you have to be homeless or take out your organs.  About my money, my fifty million won…you had better repay it within a month, including nine percent interest!  You got it?!”

Hye Sung sighed.  “Yes, I do.”  She disconnected the call, then turned to the woman still handing out note pads.  She held out a hand, and as the woman turned pointedly away, walked around her and held out her hand again. 

“You already got one,” the woman told her, annoyed. 

Hye Sung wasn’t deterred by her irritation.  “I need a lot of these for my job.  It’ll be great for you to quickly pass them all out anyway.” 

She reached into the basket and helped herself to several, then walked away, never hearing the woman’s muttered, “Oh, my.  How petty.”

She still wouldn’t have cared if she had.

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The legal office was far more impressive than the court house had been, but while Hye Sung wouldn’t have wasted time being awed, the man gaping from the front steps certainly was. 

He was a tall man, a little too disheveled to be handsome, hair slightly too long for a professional but still not in style.  Round glasses ten years out of date hid rather nice eyes, and while the rumpled suit wasn’t quite long enough, his expression fairly shone with an enthusiasm that almost made up for the rest.

He stared up at the building for a moment, then set his shoulders and choked down a little water.  Determination glinted in his eyes as he began to mount the steps, stopping every few seconds to bow in greeting to the surprised individuals he passed. 

He stopped again at the top of the stairs, pausing before a sign directing people towards a conference room.  He read the room number aloud, muttered a self-encouraging, “Okay!” even as he began nervously straightening his collar. 

The conference room was down a long, quiet hallway.  The door was shut, but the enthusiasm remained as he freshened his breath and crossed himself even though his breath hadn’t been bad and he wasn’t religious.  He pushed the door aside, slipped into a room occupied only by a single woman. 

She was sitting in one of the chairs at the back, and he couldn’t see much of her beyond the too-casual ponytail and the phone in her hand.  She didn’t look up from the game she was playing on her phone.   

“Is this the room for the public defender interview?”

“Yep.” 

“Okay.”  He smiled and entered the room fully, shutting the door behind him and then slipping into a chair in the row ahead of hers. 

He looked around, still smiling.  “There are fewer people than I expected.  I thought competition would be high.”  He’d heard getting this job was difficult, that many wanted it in spite of the long hours and relatively low salary.  Obviously he’d been wrong.

He spun in his seat, turning to look at the woman.  “It’s strange, right?”

She still hadn’t looked at him.  “It seems normal.”

Her voice was bored, apathetic.  Perhaps this wasn’t her first interview. 

“Yeah…”  He started to turn around, changed his mind.  “I met some older colleagues of mine and got some of the previous interview questions.”  He pulled a sheaf of papers from his briefcase, held them out to her.  “Do you want to see?”

Those same friends would have mocked him for sharing with what was essentially his only competition, but he’d always been fair minded, and it simply wouldn’t have occurred to him to do anything else.

“No.”

He mentally shrugged and returned the papers to his briefcase.  After all, he didn’t need them.  He’d spent so many hours pouring over the questions and preparing answers that he had them nearly memorized anyway.

“I’m so nervous, I’m shaking,” he confided, not at all bothered by the fact that the woman probably wasn’t even listening.  “Being a public defender was my dream.  Are you like that, too?”

The woman seemed irritated now.  “Nope.”  She didn’t elaborate.

“Truthfully, I was a police officer, but I left that life to become a lawyer.  A public defender, to be specific.”  He peered more closely at her.  “Aren’t you curious as to why?” 

Most people were.  It was such a drastic lifestyle change, to go from catching the bad guys to defending them. 

The woman did look at him, then, and there was nothing but aggression in her face.  “No, I’m not.”

He blinked against the force of her reply, finally took the hint and turned away.

He might have tried again, but the door opened, and a man stepped inside.  He looked at them both, surprise widening his eyes.  “What are you doing here?”

He jumped to his feet so quickly that his glasses slipped on his nose.  “I’m waiting for my interview,” he sputtered out, becoming louder as the nerves returned.

The man just looked at him.  “The interview is in East Wing, room five two nine.  This is the Western Wing.”

The woman blinked, then suddenly snapped her phone shut, all but flying out of her chair and bolting for the door, literally shoving him aside before sprinting down the hallway.  He followed, only a step behind her.  “Hey, let’s go together!”

She was already gone, darting around a corner and out of sight.  He didn’t consider himself out of shape, but even in heels, she was fast. 

She breezed past the security guard at the end of the West Wing, darted around furniture and people, all the while ignoring his pleas for her to wait and never slowing down. 

She stopped only when she reached the door to the real conference room, and he only caught up with her at all because she froze in the doorway.

Her reaction, sudden as it was, was also completely understandable.  The conference room was packed with people in dark suits and briefcases, some looking nervous, others annoyed.  Some of the women were fixing hair or makeup in tiny mirrors, many of the men shuffling through papers and books in last-minute preparation.  There must have been at least fifty people in the room already. 

“Are all these people interviewees?” 

He hadn’t really been addressing anyone, even the woman, but a man waiting near the door heard.  “Obviously not all of them,” he said, sounding a little annoyed at the ignorance.  “They said the interviews are going to take three days.  It means that it’s three times the amount of people here.”

“Three times?!”

He might have been shocked.  He might have been worried.  Instead, he found himself shoved against the door, the woman’s hand a vice on his shoulder. 

“Let me see that,” she hissed out, and if he hadn’t spent years chasing hardened criminals, he might have been terrified by the expression on her face.

“See what?”  She was making him more nervous than the interviews had.

She held out a hand.  “The past interview papers.”

So she had been listening.  Somehow, that only made him more uneasy.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

He tried not to show how nervous he was as the interviewers flipped quickly through his resume, but he couldn’t quite keep his hands from balling into fists in his lap.  These men had the power to make or break his dream.

“Lawyer Cha Gwan Woo,” one of the men muttered to himself.  He was a small, balding man, and one Gwan Woo didn’t know. 

He still straightened automatically, squaring his shoulders and straightening his hands.  “Yes!”

He’d all but shouted, but the interviewer didn’t seem to notice.  “Your reports are good,” the judge said, still sounding like he was speaking more to himself than Cha Gwan Woo.  “Since you are at this level, you must have received many offers from law firms.  So why do you want to be a public defender?”

He looked up expectantly, and Gwan Woo straightened even more.  “I didn’t want to become a lawyer for the money,” he confessed, voice still a little too strong but completely honest.  I will become a soldier who will fight for those that are found guilty because they didn’t have enough money for a lawyer.  That kind of lawyer!”

The words were sincere, even if Hye Sung, shamelessly taking notes from just outside the door, privately thought they were naïve to the point of being irritating.  It didn’t help that Lawyer Cha actually pumped his fist in the air at the end. 

Save me from the eager ones, she thought.

Cha Gwan Woo immediately realized how over-the-top that had been, swallowed, and forced his voice back down to normal decibels.  “I want to become…Justice shouldn’t be forsaken because of money,” he said.

Others said much the same, if less sincerely, when their time came. 

“For that world, I will fight!” enthused another, waving his hands a little too forcefully in the air as he spoke. 

Outside, Hye Sung crossed out another of her notes.  “Damn,” she muttered.   It hadn’t been the best of her ideas, but she wasn’t about to use it now anyway.

“Barack Obama,” started one woman, “who used to be a human rights lawyer, said this: I am running to be President to care for those who are ignored by the government.  I feel the same way.”

Another note hastily crossed out.  Hye Sung rolled her eyes, swearing again as she realized she was running out of ideas.  Only two left, and neither of them were real options.

Her time came too quickly, long before she could think of anything useful to try.  She sat a little sullenly in the same chair Cha Gwan Woo had used, keeping her uneasiness from her expression only by filling it with irritation instead. 

“Lawyer Jang Hye Sung.  Why do you want to be a public defender?”

The Sticky Note attached to her palm was nearly all crossed out.  She crumpled it in her fist and then shoved it in her pocket.

Time to wing it.

She pulled a few of the Sticky Note packets from the same pocket, stood and handed one to each interviewer. 

They were puzzled, as she’d expected them to be.  “What is this?” asked the bald one, confused.

“It’s an advertisement for a dentist’s office,” she informed them, voice and expression calm once more.  She always thought better on her feet anyway.  “I shamelessly took more than one to save on post-it notes.”

They stared at her.  “Are you trying to get a pity vote?” demanded the bald one.

She made her voice even calmer.  “I should provide you the honest reason,” she said.  “I…came here because of money.”

The interviewers froze.

“I don’t have the ability to get in a law firm, and I don’t have the money to enroll with a broker.  I was expelled in high school, and I attended a nondescript university.  I have no connections in this field, either.  I can’t even make a million won a month.”

The bald man, having spent the entire day listening to people extol the virtues of justice and compassion, looked a little sick.

“…but if I become a public defender, I heard that one can make three to four million won.”

The bald man no longer looked like he might vomit, but he clearly wasn’t pleased.  “How is there such an honest lawyer like this?”

One of the others scoffed.  “She’s completely new at this!”

The bald man was glaring at her.  “I think we should give her the job,” he said, sarcasm thick in his voice, and one of the others laughed.  His glare deepened.  “I think you wanted a twisted drama,” he told her, “but that is only possible in dramas.  You took the wrong approach.”

Her expression didn’t change in the slightest at this, though her tactics did.  “Well,” she started.  “It’s not that.”

They didn’t take the bait.  “The rest seems obvious,” said the bald man, dismissing her.  “The results will be sent through the mail.”

Whatever.  She thought of fighting it, but her Plan B had only been half-formed anyway.  She stood to leave.

“By the way…”

She stopped, turned to face the bald judge in silence, this time not even trying to hide her irritation.

“A while ago, you said you were expelled in the past, right?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you expelled?”

Perhaps it hadn’t been strictly polite to ask, but he seemed genuinely curious and less angry, and it was all the opening she needed.  “If I tell you, are you going to let me in?”

He considered that.  “If your story has an impact, maybe.”

Her expression turned arch.  “Impact, you say?”  She smiled.  “Of course there is an impact.”

“Tell me.”  It was an order, though one softened by genuine interest.

She sat back down.

“Ten years ago, I had one friend, who was the daughter of the house where my mom worked as a maid…”

The classroom was stifling, and perhaps more than one student would have been battling sleep had it not been for the papers on their desks.  None of them had thought this would be an easy test, but even so, the questions were far more difficult than even the most paranoid of them had expected.

Hye Sung was faring better than some, though only because fear of her mother had kept her studying far longer than she would have otherwise.  She slowly filled in answers, occasionally biting her lip or glancing at the girl in the chair beside her.

Seo De Yeon was pretty, her dark hair long and feminine, her face well-proportioned if still a little round.  She’d be absolutely beautiful in years to come, but even now, she wasn’t exactly lacking in admirers.

It didn’t hurt that she was intelligent or that wanting to be an artist made her interesting.  Wealth brought popularity she would have had anyway, and though Hye Sung probably shouldn’t have been looking at De Yeon at all, at least not during a test, the glances became both more frequent and more suspicious as time passed.

It wasn’t long before those suspicions were confirmed.  Hye Sung watched, mouth falling slightly open, as the other girl pulled a piece of paper from inside the sleeve of her jacket.  The paper snapped back into her sleeve once she had what she wanted, pulled by a rather ingeniously used piece of elastic, and the girl quickly scribbled the answers onto her test sheet. 

Hye Sung briefly wondered why the other girl had been able to design such an elaborate cheat sheet but hadn’t thought to be more subtle as she used it.  She didn’t, however, really consider what her own response might be.  She only grunted in disgust. 

De Yeon heard, looked up, realized that she’d been caught, and froze.  Fear flashed across her face as she slowly drew a hand to cover the notes she wasn’t supposed to have, and then she looked away. 

She needn’t have worried.  Hye Sung considered reporting what she’d seen, but in the end, decided it would be completely pointless.  Who would believe her?  Though Hye Sung had told her mother that she and their employer’s daughter were friends, they weren’t, really.  Hye Sung found De Yeon arrogant and irritating, completely artificial, but her classmates would hardly choose to believe impoverished, nearly friendless Hye Sung over rich, popular De Yeon. 

With that test, De Yeon, once tenth in the school, suddenly leaped to first. 

Hye Sung and De Yeon managed to avoid each other for the next few days, studiously keeping their eyes turned away in school, not interacting in any way at home.  They didn’t actually live under the same roof—Hye Sung and her mother lived in a small two room home on the grounds—and it wasn’t hard to remain separate, at least until De Yeon’s mother decided to throw a party to celebrate her success in school. 

Hye Sung wasn’t invited, but she and her mother spent hours in the kitchen, preparing the food she wouldn’t be allowed to eat, knowing all the while she’d be up half the night cleaning the mess De Yeon and her friends would inevitably make. 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Hye Sung was tasked with serving.  She carried trays of food and drink into the yard, where De Yeon and her equally shallow friends had gathered to shoot off firecrackers.  De Yeon looked at her only once, her smile fading as Hye Sung’s eyes met hers, then turning away and forcing a grin back to her face before anyone else noticed.

Hye Sung, more resigned than angry by then, turned away herself.  Her only thought, at that point, was how unfair it all was.

“Hye Sung!”

One of De Yeon’s friends had seen her, and though her words were sweet enough, there was a carelessness to her voice that Hye Sung didn’t like.  “Why don’t you join us and stop working?”  She looked back at De Yeon.  “That’s okay, right, De Yeon?”

De Yeon wasn’t exactly enthusiastic.  “Huh?  Okay.  Let her do it.”

The girl handed Hye Sung a sparkler and lighter, but Hye Sung hesitated before using hers.  She didn’t want to be there, and though she wouldn’t have minded the fireworks under any other circumstance, she didn’t want to dirty her hands by association. 

 What had begun with a test ended in an accident.  One of De Yeon’s friends, the one who’d given Hye Sung the sparkler, held a lighter to a stick that wouldn’t light.  Confused, she lowered the stick, not realizing she’d pointed it in De Yeon’s direction until it exploded in a flash of light and gunpowder.

De Yeon dropped, grabbing her eye and screaming in true agony.  As the others realized what had happened and began screaming for De Yeon’s mother, the culprit threw her stick to the ground and rushed to the friend she’d just injured.

Only Hye Sung was left standing, shock keeping her in place.

“At that time,” the adult Hye Sung confessed to her captive audience, “I was shocked and worried…but deep in my heart, maybe I thought she deserved it, because I’d really hated her.”

De Yeon lay in the hospital bed, her eyes wrapped in cloth, her face tight with fear and misery.  She’d escaped worse injuries, but even the doctors didn’t know if her eye could be saved. 

The household grieved with her, her mother staying at her hospital bed at all times, her father arguing with the doctors, demanding specialists and other opinions, Hye Sung’s mother preparing De Yeon’s favorite dishes and then forcing Hye Sung to help her cart them by bus to the hospital. 

When she complained, Choon Shim angrily cuffed her.  “Is De Yeon a stranger?”

If De Yeon had been a stranger, Hye Sung wouldn’t have known what it was to hate someone like this.

“Of course she’s a stranger!  Is she me?” 

Is she family?  Hye Sung wanted to demand.  Is she someone you should treat as your own child? 

“We’ve lived here for ten years.  If you’ve lived with someone for ten years, it’s the same as family.”

Perhaps that would have been true if Hye Sung hadn’t seen the barely veiled contempt in De Yeon’s father’s eyes, if his wife hadn’t been so careful to tell her friends that Hye Sung was the housekeeper’s daughter and not De Yeon’s friend, if De Yeon had ever smiled at Hye Sung when others weren’t around. 

If Hye Sung’s mother had a fault, it was seeing good in others, even when it did not exist. 

De Yeon wasn’t family.  She wouldn’t ever be family.

“Hurry and get dressed.  We have to go to the hospital together.”

“I don’t want to,” Hye Sung said, annoyed.  “Go by yourself.  She’s so annoying that I don’t even want to see her.”

Choon Shim cuffed the back of Hye Sung’s head. 

“Why do you keep hitting my head?!”

Hye Sung’s indignation aside, her mother gave her little choice but to go to the hospital.  When they arrived, two of De Yeon’s friends were already there, standing nervously around De Yeon’s bed.  There was a tension in the room that Hye Sung didn’t immediately understand, even with De Yeon still wearing a bandage over the injured eye, even with the anger still in her father’s face.

They stared at her as she entered, the two friends and De Yeon’s family.  Choon Shim didn’t seem to pick up on it, instead approaching the best and asking after De Yeon’s health. 

“Hye Sung did it!  I saw it!”

At first, the words barely registered in Hye Sung’s mind.  It simply hadn’t occurred to her that these girls, even as spiteful as she knew them to be, could accuse her of something so terrible.

“What did she do?”  Choon Shim was just as confused.

“She shot the fireworks into De Yeon’s eyes,” the friend insisted.  “I saw it.”

Hye Sung stared at her.  “I did?  Are you crazy?  When did I?”  She was getting angry now, as what this meant sunk in.  “I didn’t even light any fireworks!”

De Yeon’s mother was just as shocked.  “How could you?  How could you do that to my child?”

“It’s not like that, really!”

How could they believe such a lie?

She the friend who’d accused her, nausea churning in her stomach as fury churned in her eyes.  “Why are you doing this to me?”

De Yeon’s father was also staring at the girl.  “Are you sure…that you really saw it?”

The girl honestly just seemed puzzled by the question, as if the lie, once spoken, had already become truth. 

“Tell me if you’re saying you saw that on circumstantial evidence, or if you really saw it.”  His voice was grave, his expression severe.  “That’s important.”

Was he giving the girl a way out?  Or was it only the lawyer in him, needing evidence before all else?

The girl couldn’t answer.

“She didn’t see it,” Hye Sung growled.  “No, she couldn’t see it.  I didn’t do it, so how could she see it?”

“I saw it, too.”

If Hye Sung had been shocked by the first accusation, her heart nearly stopped with the second.

De Yeon was staring at her lap, her one good eye downcast.  “Hye Sung was the one who shot fireworks at me.”

The friend jumped in again, her confidence returned.  “See?  I told you I saw.”  She glanced at the remaining friend, a plea in her eyes.  “You saw it, too, right?”

The last girl looked down, the lie too obvious.  “Huh?  Yeah, I…I think I also saw it.”

She couldn’t meet Hye Sung’s eyes.

Choon Shim was pale, her eyes wide.  “You,” she asked her daughter in a stilted voice, “…is this true?” 

“It’s a lie.  They’re setting me up when they’re the ones who did it.”

“Are you not going to admit it, like a coward, even after making me like this?”  De Yeon was an excellent actress.  Even to Hye Sung, her voice sounded more angry than panicked. 

Hye Sung’s mother set down the basket of food they’d brought.  “Wait a minute,” she snapped, her voice still shaking but somehow stronger.  She grabbed Hye Sung’s arm, started to pull her from the room. “Talk to me for a bit.” 

De Yeon’s mother wasn’t willing to let them go.  “What do you mean, talk?  Even begging for forgiveness isn’t enough here!”

She would have lunged at Hye Sung had her husband not grabbed her.  “Stay still for a bit,” the judge told them both.  

Choon Shim was still too pale.  “I’m sorry.  Please, wait for a bit.  I’ll come back after taking her outside.”

Hye Sung wouldn’t let herself be pulled.  “Mom.  Mom!  You also can’t trust me?  Is that it?”

Her mother only pulled her harder, dragging her from the room.

“It really wasn’t me!  I said it’s not me!”

Choon Shim stopped, pushing her against the wall and staring into her eyes.  “Look me in the eyes and tell me clearly.  Did you do it?  Is it true?”

“No.  It’s not true.”

“Even if you did it, I’ll take your side, so don’t lie, and even if it means trouble, tell me the truth.”

Tears spilled from the corners of Hye Sung’s eyes, hot on her cheeks.  “Even though I’m cold,” she said, anguished, “I’m still your daughter.  The daughter of Eo Choon Shim who cares more about the ones she serves than her own family!”  She took a shuddering breath.  “I hate De Yeon, but I won’t do that!” 

How could her mother even believe this of her?  The tears were coursing freely now.  “I know my personality stinks, but not to that extent.  I’m not that bad!”

Choon Shim wiped away a tear of her own, but she seemed so much calmer now.  “Stop crying.  Aigo, look at that nose.  How dirty!”

“Do you believe me?”  Nothing had ever been more important.

“You told me to.”

That wasn’t good enough, though the ache in her chest had eased.  “You believe me because I told you to and not because you really trust me?”

Her mother cuffed her head.  “Aigo, this girl is still like this even after I said I believe her.”

“I said not to hit my head!”

Inside the hospital room, De Yeon stared at her father.  “Dad…you believe my words, right?”

There were so many ways he might have answered, but it was the judge who replied, not the father.  “Lie down.  I have to hear what they say first.”

His wife protested, but De Yeon’s expression fell.  She knew what he’d meant.

The door opened slowly, and Hye Sung’s mother entered the room, child in tow.  “Madame, Your Honor…I talked it through with Hye Sung, and she said she didn’t do it.” 

Her words were a plea for understanding they did not receive.  De Yeon’s mother scowled.  “Look here, Sye Hung’s mom.  Blindly protecting your daughter isn’t going to solve the problem.”

“No, I’m not just protecting her because she’s my daughter…but this girl is someone who doesn’t cry.  She didn’t cry when she lost her father.  And when she broke her leg, she didn’t even shed a tear.  When she cries, there’s only one reason: when there is something unfair.”

Hye Sung stared at her mother in wonder.

“Seeing her cry like this means that she was wrongly accused.  The culprit isn’t Hye Sung, but someone else.  I’m positive.  Please believe me and Hye Sung!”

She might have said more, but De Yeon’s mother interrupted with a furious, “My daughter said she did it!  She said she saw it with her own two eyes!”

Choon Shim was still trying to keep her voice calm.  “I think she must’ve been confused because there were so many kids.  My daughter is really not the one.”

The other woman’s voice rose to a shriek as she spun to face her husband.  “Honey, what are you doing?!  Are you just going to listen to her lies?”

The judge stepped around his wife, came to stand before his servant and her child.  “Hye Sung, I’m not listening because I believe you.  I’m waiting.”

Hye Sung could barely raise her eyes to his.  “Waiting for what?”

“Admitting that you did it, reflecting on it, and apologizing for it.”

The righteous indignation did more to her than even the false accusations, and any hope that he might listen to reason died.  “I said I didn’t do it!”

Across the room, De Yeon smiled.

“If you admit it and sincerely apologize, I’m planning to forgive you.  For the sake of your future, we’ll continue to live as we are now.”

He clearly thought he was being generous and ignored his wife’s renewed protests.  Hye Sung wanted to slap him, but he wasn’t finished.

“…but if you’re going to be like this to the end, I can’t let you attend the same school as her.”

“What does that mean?” she demanded, even though she knew.  “You’re going to have me kicked out?”

It was in his power.  As a housekeeper’s daughter, Hye Sung could barely afford tuition.  She’d attended at all only because he’d called in a favor.  It’d be the work of a single phone call to get her expelled, even if he didn’t mention the accident. 

Her mother seemed more shocked by this than by the lies.  “Honorable judge!  She said she didn’t do it!  Why can’t you believe me?”

He ignored her.  “Also, you should leave the house.”

This was too much.  “What do you mean, leave?  Where are you telling us to go so suddenly?”  Didn’t he know they had nowhere else to go?

“So apologize and sincerely reflect on what you have done wrong.  I’m giving you this last chance because I’ve watched over and protected you for the last ten years.”

He’d ignored her, and now he threatened her.  Was this what being family meant?

He turned his back on her and walked to his daughter’s bedside.  De Yeon was still smiling, but now that she’d realized the damage her lie would cause, the smile was no longer satisfied. 

Hye Sung looked at her mother.  “Mom…”

They both knew what exile meant.  No reference, no income, no home. Where would they go?

Her choices were not choices at all.  Apologize for what she hadn’t done, and ensure their survival?  Or refuse and become homeless?

Hye Sung looked at her mother, agony in her eyes.  “I…am…”

Exile, or dishonesty?

There was only one real option.   

“I’m not the culprit!  I have nothing to apologize for or reflect about!”

Hye Sung refused to cry any longer.  Her eyes were dry as she and her mother left, as, the next morning, she stood, stone-faced, beside her homeroom teacher’s desk.

The woman handed her a sheet still warm from the printer.  Hye Sung could barely force herself to read it. 

“We decided to do it as a drop-out request,” the woman told her, not truly sounding concerned even as she destroyed what was left of Hye Sung’s future.  “It’s better for the school and for you.”

Better for the school, at least.  She’d been presumed guilty without any evidence, without a chance to defend herself.  De Yeon’s father had been true to his word.

“What happens if I don’t write a drop out note?”

“It’ll be expulsion.”

It was another shock.  Expulsion meant never being accepted to another school, even if she could find the money to pay for it.  It meant a rocky future, uncertainty, fear. 

It meant not accepting the lie.

Hye Sung walked slowly back to her former home that morning, arriving in time to find her mother loading the last of their meager belongings in a truck. 

She bowed to one of the family’s servants, a kind older man who’d helped them many times over the years.  “Thank you,” she said, sincerely grateful. 

“Do you have somewhere to go?”  He was clearly worried, for he knew what their future would likely hold. 

“Yes, I do.  Don’t worry.” 

They both knew it was a lie, but it was one he wouldn’t take from her.  “Well,” he said, reaching into his pocket for an envelope, “here.  They gave you severance pay.”

“Don’t accept it!” Hye Sung cried as she reached them.  “Don’t accept it.  If you believe me, don’t accept it!”

The man’s voice was gentle.  “Don’t be like that and accept it.  Even though it’s dirty, money will help.”

“Don’t accept it.  Please.” 

Her mother took the envelope.

It was the final straw.  “Don’t you have feelings?  Aren’t you angry?  I was expelled today.  I didn’t do anything, yet I was kicked out of school.”

Her mother opened the passenger door.

“I’m not getting on,” Hye Sung snapped. 

“Don’t say anything and just get on.”  Choon Shim seemed so tired.

“Until you give back the money, I’m not moving an inch from here.”

Her mother also seemed to have lost patience.  “Then you walk.”

She didn’t look back as she climbed in the truck and drove away.

Hye Sung began to run after her but quickly stopped.  Disbelief had weakened her legs until she could no longer move forward.

She remained on the street for hours, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the air cooled.  De Yeon’s father watched from his second-story balcony.

It was dark before her mother returned, and still Hye Song stood in the street.  She’d gone numb, both in body and mind, and she barely registered that De Yeon’s father had come to stand beside her.

“How long are you going to be standing here?  Hurry up and follow your mother.”

He didn’t sound angry, perhaps even sounded as if he admired her a little, but she wouldn’t ever soften towards this man. 

Anger cleared her mind, brought back the strength she’d lost.  “How much did you give my mom for her retirement?  About a hundred thousand won?  No, a million won?”  Her voice was cutting, derogatory.  “I don’t know how much it is, but it’s compensation for your conscience.  You gave it because you had a doubt.  ‘What happens if she’s not the culprit?’  That’s why you gave it.  Right?”

If anything, he seemed pleased by her words.  Smug.  “With that money envelope, I wanted to test your mother,” he confessed.  “If she believed her daughter or not.  As you said, if she’d believed you, she wouldn’t have accepted that money.”  He was practically sneering at her now.  “Even the mother doesn’t believe her own daughter, so how am I supposed to believe you?”

She was too angry to answer, but only then did she notice her mother.

Choon Shim was standing a few feet away, splashing liquid onto a small pile of books on the side of the road.  Knowing they were watching, she pulled the envelope from beneath her arm, held a lighter to the edge. 

De Yeon’s father ran across the street as the envelope caught.

Choon Shim dropped the envelope on the pile.  Flames immediately shot out, engulfing everything, including the blood money De Yeon’s father had given them.

The judge reached the pyre in time to see the stack of books Choon Shim was using as kindling.  All of them were his.

“What are you doing?”

“A judge with a warm heart,” she said, eyes on the flames.  “I couldn’t understand a single word of this book when I was reading it, but now that I’m burning it, I can feel the warmth.”

“I asked what are you doing?!”

“You’re not listening to my words,” she replied calmly, “so I’m trying to show it to you.  My daughter didn’t do anything.  She was unfairly kicked out of school.”  She faced him, her words not barely more than a shriek of pure fury.  “My daughter is right, and you’re wrong, Judge Seo Dae Seok!”

For the first time in days, Hye Sung smiled.

“Looking at you,” Choon Shim said, “I think you got the message.  That’s all I needed.  Let’s go, Hye Sung.”

They walked away, hand in hand, Hye Sung’s eyes shining. 

Judge Seo didn’t watch them go.  His eyes were on the flames as his books burned.

Choon Shim made it around the corner of the next street before she collapsed, falling to her knees and gasping for breath.

“Mom!”

“Hye Sung, how did I do?  Did you believe my acting?”

Hye Sung stared at her in surprise.  “What is this?  Were you acting a while ago?”

Choon Shim was still breathing hard.  “Just wait a minute,” she realized, “did I just say everything I wanted to?  I think I forgot something.”

Hye Sung relaxed, grinning now as her mother looked at the notes she’d scribbled on her own hand.

“It’s right there,” she said, pointing.  “’You’re the person who uses the law not to save people, but to make them cry.’  I forgot this sentence.  This was the key point.  I left it out!”

Hye Sung’s smile widened.  “Mom, you really believed me.”  She threw her arms around her mother in an rare show of affection. 

Choon Shim just looked at her.  “This girl.  I told you I believed you.” 

She cuffed Hye Sung on the forehead. 

“I told you not to hit my head!”  She lifted her mom’s hand, used it to her own head.  “I need my head to take exams, go to college, and make money.  This is our food source now, so don’t hit it.”

Her mother was smiling.  “Food source.”  She bumped her forehead against her daughter’s.  “You think you can be our food source with your head?”  She bumped their heads together again.  “Your head.”  And again.  And again.

Hye Sung rubbed her head, and they smiled together.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Hye Sung had never considered herself a particularly violent individual.  She’d never gotten into a fight, had never needed to defend herself physically, but as she waited for De Yeon beneath a flickering streetlight, Hye Sung had never felt stronger. 

It had been a week since her expulsion, a week since De Yeon’s lies had cost Hye Sung and her mother everything.  A week of sleeping at saunas, a week of looking for work and not knowing what the future would hold.  A week of regrets, at least for Hye Sung, who still tasted ashes every time she thought of what she’d have to do to survive.  A week spent facing so many of the things she’d always dreaded.

They’d been fortunate, at least in some ways.  After a week, Choon Shim had found work in a chicken shop run by a kind but elderly woman Choon Shin had known in passing.  She’d hired Choon Shim, given          them a place to stay in a room over the shop, offered the encouragement they’d badly needed.  In the coming days, Choon Shim and Hye Sung would prove themselves hard workers, and by the end of the following year, Hye Sung would pass the exam offering the equivalent of a high school diploma.  The future would become bright again, if less than what it might have been, but Hye Sung wasn’t thinking of any of that as she waited for De Yeon.

Hye Sung had been waiting longer than she’d expected by the time De Yeon walked slowly down the path to what had once been their home.  She’d taken to pacing in circles out of sheer boredom, but as De Yeon approached, one eye still covered in a patch, her eyes became sharp and alert.

They stared at each other for a moment, Hye Sung with renewed anger, De Yeon with blossoming fear, and then Hye Sung pulled the sparkler out from behind her back.

De Yeon paled. 

Hye Sung took a step forward, then another, then another, each time causing De Yeon to back away herself.  “Hye Sung, why are you like that?”  She was clearly trying to smile, trying to pretend, but fear shone in her face.  “What are you going to do with that?”

Hye Sung lit the firework.

De Yeon ducked, screaming, her fingers over her ears as the sparks shot harmlessly over her head. 

“You...” Hye Sung began as the other girl remained crouched on the ground.  “Did you really see me shoot it?”

De Yeon couldn’t answer, and Hye Sung knelt in front of her.  “You didn’t see it, right?”

De Yeon looked defiant, if also still scared.  “I did!  I saw it clearly!”

Hye Sung’s face was still hard, cold, calm.  “If you saw it, then why didn’t you do anything?  If you saw me shooting it, then you should’ve avoided it, like now.  You said you saw it.”

Shame was now warring with the defiance in De Yeon’s face.  “That…”

She couldn’t speak, and Hye Sung smiled bitterly.  “You didn’t know I could be this smart, right?  You didn’t see it.  Why are you still acting like a coward?”

De Yeon stood.  “Fine, I didn’t see it, but you shot it!  You lied, so I tried to catch you for lying!”

Hye Sung also stood, grabbing De Yeon’s wrist in a tight grip.  “Go tell,” she snarled.  “Go tell my mom and your dad exactly what you said just now.”

De Yeon pulled her hand free.  “You are the culprit, so why should I?  You deserve to get punished, so why should I?!”

“Seo De Yeon!”

Whatever else she might have said was lost to the sudden sound of screeching tires and tearing metal, of glass shattering, of a silence agonizingly abrupt. 

“What is that sound?”  De Yeon’s words were hesitant, because while they’d both recognized the sounds of a crash, they didn’t know how to react.  Should they call the police?  An ambulance?  Their parents?  What would they find if they went themselves? 

Concern replaced anger as they shared an uncertain look, and Hye Sung was only a step behind De Yeon as they both turned and sprinted towards the crash.

From a distance, the accident didn’t seem so terrible, at least at first.  They’d been conditioned by television to expect explosions and overturned cars, perhaps bodies heaped on the road, but at first they saw only the truck, slanted but upright, a small car smoking and broken beside it. 

And then a man jumped to the hood of the crumpled car, and it wasn’t until they heard the screaming child that they realized he wasn’t trying to help.  He had a pipe in his hand, and they watched, helpless with horror, as he brought it down again and again. 

De Yeon put her hand on , fighting nausea, unable to keep looking, but Hye Sung continued staring in shock.  “What is that?”  Her heart had stopped beating.  “He killed a person?”

The man jumped to the ground, yanked the passenger door open, stared at the bloody child inside the car. 

De Yeon pulled Hye Sung’s sleeve.  “That person…I think he’s going to kill that kid, too!”

Hye Sung moved on instinct.  She pulled her phone from her pocket, hit the button to turn it into a camera, and snapped a picture just as the man raised the pipe again.

“Smile!” her camera shouted, and the man froze. 

Turned.

Saw them.

De Yeon ran.

Hye Sung closed her phone, almost mechanically put it back in her pocket, and tried to move on legs suddenly turned to stone.

It was the boy who saved her.  The killer was walking slowly towards her, unhurried, his pipe dragging on the ground, but it was the boy she watched.  He was shaking, eyes blank, clearly in shock and with blood dripping down his face.

It was the agony in his expression that reminded her of where she was, what had happened, what danger she was in.

She turned and ran.

The killer ran after her.

She’d always been quick, and she caught up to De Yeon easily.  The two of them sprinted down the sidewalk, cursing the isolation of the streets, fear giving their feet wings. 

They knew they couldn’t outrun him, and only a minute later, De Yeon and Hye Sung both instinctively ducked behind a large shrub.  They crouched, holding each other, their hearts hammering in their chests.

Their hiding place should have been obvious.  Perhaps, in daylight, it would have been, but the darkness provided too many hiding places.  The killer, realizing this, suddenly screamed in rage and began striking at the bushes with his pipe.  He missed them, but just as he was giving up and turning away, De Yeon hiccupped. 

The killer turned back, his eyes scanning the bushes for the witnesses he knew were there. 

Hye Sung put her hands over De Yeon’s mouth, but the hiccups continued, if more quietly.

Sirens saved them. 

The killer snarled, stared into the bushes.  “If it wasn’t for you es, I could’ve cleanly finished this,” he hissed.  “You guys can hear me, right?  Since you’re nearby, you should be able to hear me.  You saw everything earlier, right?  You know why I killed that man?  It’s because he moved his tongue in a wrong way.  He said everything he wanted to, and that’s why I killed him.  If you guys want to live, close your mouths.  Then nothing will happen.  If there’s no witness, it’ll just be a car accident.  If you go to the police and tell them you saw me and it was a murder case, you guys will have the same fate as that man.  If you tell your parents, I’ll do the same to them, as well.  So, guys…for me not to kill you, you guys have to help me.  Okay?!” 

He punctured his words with another strike at the bush, but even if they hadn’t just seen him murder a man, they’d have known he meant it.  There had been too much rage in his eyes, in his screams, for them to believe he wouldn’t follow through.

“Just like now, stay hidden.  Don’t ever appear, and don’t say anything.  Or else I’ll kill you and the people you told.  So stay hidden for the rest of your lives, so that I don’t hear anything or see anything.  Stay hidden.”

He walked away, the pipe leaving trails of blood on the sidewalk. 

They didn’t move for a long time.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************

The murder made the news the next morning.

“At 12:10 AM this morning, at an intersection, there was a crash between a car and a twenty-five ton truck,” the newscaster reported, enough concern in his voice to make him seem genuine.  “The driver of the truck, Mr. Park, died on site.”

Footage showed a rescue worker lifting a bloody, broken boy from the car as another man pulled a cloth over the dead father’s face. 

“His son has an injury to his head, so he is being treated at the hospital.  The police are investigating on the basis of the truck driver’s testimony claiming he saw Mr. Park speed through a red light.”

Hye Sung had heard the story at least once already that morning, but as she passed the roadside vendor absently listening to the grainy television, Hye Sung pulled the sun visor she was wearing down over her face. 

“Did you hear?”  A woman nearby sounded more excited than disturbed.  “They said this wasn’t an accident.”

“I know, right?  They said it’s a murder case.”

A third woman dismissed them both.  “What’s the point when there aren’t any witnesses?  There’s no evidence.”

The first woman didn’t agree.  “Why wouldn’t there be evidence?  The son saw his father die.”

She, too, sounded more excited than she should have been, as though this was something from a drama, as though two lives, maybe four, hadn’t been ruined.

“It’s just what a little kid said.  It doesn’t help in court.”

Hye Sung’s heart sank. 

“…so, until a witness appears, they’ll just treat it as an accident?”

The killer had been right.  He must have known that it would happen this way even before he’d turned his truck into that car.

Hye Sung fought a wave of nausea.  She and De Yeon had raced home that night, wordlessly agreeing not to say a word to their parents, both of them far too aware of the consequences should they speak out.  Hye Sung hadn’t seen the other girl since, and though days had passed and it was all she could do not to wake screaming in the night, the one comfort she’d had was the thought that the boy would tell the police what that man had done, that he wouldn’t get away with murder, no matter what he’d claimed.

Why wouldn’t the police listen?  The boy had been there.  He’d seen it all…but he’d also been injured.  There had been blood on his face, shock in his eyes.  Perhaps enough discredit his testimony?

It was the eyes that would have convinced her in the end, even if she hadn’t spotted De Yeon hiding behind a tree only a few feet away.  The boy’s eyes had been filled with pain, but most of that had not been physical.  How much worse had the pain become, now that he likely knew his father’s killer might go free?

Hye Sung knew what it was to watch a horror unfold and not be believed.  Could she consign him to that, no matter how terrified she was?

De Yeon jumped as Hye Sung approached, not having realized how little her baseball cap and eye patch hid.  How much, in fact, they made her stand out.

De Yeon glared at her former classmate.  “What was that?” she demanded, trying to cover her fear with anger.  “I got scared.”

“What are you doing, hiding there and being so suspicious?”

“I wasn’t hiding!  I was just trying to see the phone number…”

Hye Sung’s eyes widened.  “Are you going to tell them you’re a witness?”

De Yeon’s forced bravado was not convincing.  “Of course!  Aren’t you?”

Was she?  Hye Sung tried to smile as she pulled her phone from her pocket and held it up as a sort of evidence.  “Me, too.  I came to get the number, so I could call them today and say I’m a witness.” 

De Yeon scoffed.  “You’re lying again.  What do you mean, call?  You came because you were scared.”

That part was true enough, but Hye Sung wasn’t going to let her know that.  “You’re the one who’s lying.  You framed someone who’s innocent.  I never lied, not even once.”

De Yeon was openly skeptical.  “Really?  Then does that also include the part about being the witness?”

“Of course.” 

“Then prove it.  I won’t complain if you go to court and don’t back out.  I’ll even say you aren’t a liar.”

Hye Sung was silent.  That prize came with too much risk, and she was afraid.

“Why?  You can’t?”

There was too much smug satisfaction in De Yeon’s voice.  “No, I’m going to do it,” Hye Sung said, voice now strong and clear as she suddenly thought of a way to get what she wanted without endangering herself as much, “but you have to come as a witness, too.”

“What?”

“You said you came here to be a witness.  If it’s not a lie, come to court.”

De Yeon scowled.  “Fine.  I’ll go.  I’m going.  I was going anyway.”

Hye Sung smiled slightly, and De Yeon abruptly pushed past her, the two of them walking away without a word.

Only when Hye Sung was around the corner and out of sight did she throw off her visor and let her panic show.  “I’m crazy.  Crazy!  What did I just do?”

That night, as Choon Shim carefully peeled onions for the next day’s restaurant menu and Hye Sung pretended to study for her equivalency exam, De Yeon’s words echoed through her head. 

Could she do it?  Could she enter that courtroom, knowing the killer would be there, knowing he’d go after her mother if she spoke against him?  Was avoiding De Yeon’s scorn worth that?

She buried her face in her hands.  “I’m about to go crazy.”

Her mother didn’t even glance at her.  “If you’re getting teary, then you should wear goggles.  If you wear them, this wouldn’t be painful at all.”

Hye Sung turned to watch her mother.  “Mom.”

“What?”

“Is Miss Korea prettier, or am I prettier?”

Choon Shim still didn’t look up.  “Of course, Miss Korea.” 

Hye Sung’s lip curled.  “That’s your problem,” she snapped.  “You’re unnecessarily too honest.”

Her smile turned crafty.  “Then is De Yeon prettier, or am I prettier?”

Her mother did look at her then, but glanced quickly away.  “Well, that’s…if you put it that way, it’s De Yeon, but don’t worry.  Make a lot of money and get surgery on those eyes.  They’ll look pretty.”

The words were softened with a laugh, but Hye Sung’s scowl deepened.  “If she’s so much prettier, why didn’t you side with her?  Why’d you side with me?  Is it because I’m your daughter?”

Her mother cuffed her shoulder.  “Look at how you talk!”

She was genuinely angry, but Hye Sung only groaned.  “Why do you keep hitting my head?”

****************************************************************************************************************************************************

Hye Sung stood at the base of the courthouse steps, eyes narrowed with worry, reliving her mother’s parting words.

“I didn’t side with you because you’re my daughter.  It was because you were right.  You were always right, just like your father.” 

The words had been as comforting as her mother had meant them to be, but as she stood before the courthouse, it occurred to her that this was another loss she and the boy shared.  They’d both lost their fathers too early, but at least Hye Sung’s had never been doubted as the boy’s now was. 

Hye Sung swallowed, stiffened her shoulders, and climbed the steps.

In the courtroom, a nine-year-old boy stood beside his temporary caregiver, his head aching beneath the bandages, his cheek burning where a piece of glass had cut him too deeply, his heart hurting more than both of them combined. 

Only a few feet away, his father’s killer watched the three judges—one of them De Yeon’s father, though the boy would never understand how connected the people in his world really were—seated themselves behind the bench.  The killer, hands shackled, watched expressionlessly, but the boy hadn’t yet mastered the ability to hide his emotions.  His own eyes were full of hate.

Hye Sung, still waiting outside, paced back and forth, uneasiness written across every feature as she waited for De Yeon.

When De Yeon finally arrived, she looked genuinely disappointed to see Hye Sung waiting.  “I thought you wouldn’t come,” she sneered, “but here you are.”

“Same for you, too.”

De Yeon looked at her.  “Why did you wear your school uniform?  Didn’t you quit school?”

Hye Sung chose not to point out that De Yeon was also in a uniform, even if hers was a lie.  “I don’t think I quit.”

De Yeon couldn’t reply to that, but she also wasn’t really thinking of Hye Sung’s expulsion or her own role in it.  Instead, she was balling her hands into fists, the reality of what she was about to do turning her heart to lead.

Hye Sung wasn’t faring any better, but she remained silent as the two of them took the elevator to the correct floor, as they paused outside the doors to the actual courtroom.  There were two of them, each leading to a separate side of the court.  They each approached one.

“If you tell, I’ll kill you.”  

Hye Sung hesitated. 

“I’m also going to kill the people you told, so stay hidden forever.”

They turned at the same time, putting their backs to the doors, terror written on both their faces. 

“Why aren’t you going in?” Hye Sung finally asked.

“Then how about you?  Why aren’t you going in?”  De Yeon would have been defiant if she hadn’t been so visibly shaken.

“Let’s go in together,” Hye Sung suggested, not looking any more eager than De Yeon.  “When I say three, let’s go in together.”

“Okay, fine.”  They both put their hands on the doorknobs.  “One.”

“Two,” Hye Sung counted.

They closed their eyes.

“Three,” they said together.

One door opened. 

One did not.

“So who opened the door?”  The bald judge was on the edge of his seat, gripping his pen in a white-knuckled fist and actually leaning forward.

Hye Sung pretended to hesitate.  “I will tell my story…”  She smiled.  “…only up to this point.”

The bald judge nearly turned purple.  “Why?!”  He tried to calm himself.  “Why aren’t you telling the whole story?”

“In this position, I need to be honest, but if I tell the truth, I don’t think it’ll help me with my application.”

“She didn’t go in,” decided one of the other interviewers. 

“She would stop the story because she went in,” disagreed the other.

“The only thing I’m sure of,” Hye Sung said, “is that I still regret that decision until today.  Also, I don’t want to make that decision ever again.  And that’s why I’m here.”

She didn’t explain, but for once, she was completely sincere.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************

Soo Ha was a monster.

Joon Gi had been watching the taller boy in the days since their fight, first out of anger, then simply from curiosity.

He didn’t know what to make of Soo Ha, couldn’t understand him at all.  Soo Ha had always been quiet, barely leaving an impression on Joon Gi even though they’d been in the same class for years, and if Joon Gi had thought of Soo Ha at all before the fight, he would have assumed the other boy was unpopular or simply very introverted.  How else could they have known each other for so long and still be such strangers?

Introverted he might be, but Joon Gi quickly realized Soo Ha was anything but unpopular.  Though the boy himself never seemed to notice, he was always being watched.  Their classmates’ eyes followed Soo Ha almost instinctively, often with interest, always with admiration.  And though Soo Ha hardly ever spoke, his words were always accepted as truth, his every direction followed without question.

Joon Gi himself would have admitted he wasn’t the most observant of people, but even after days spent following Soo Ha, always at a discrete distance, he still couldn’t have explained the hold Soo Ha on those around him.  The boy was unfailingly polite, always calm, but he wasn’t outgoing or even all that friendly.  He didn’t have any friends, ate and sat by himself, even avoided looking others in the eye.  He shouldn’t have been exceptional.

Soo Ha was more than a ghost.  He was a monster.

It didn’t help that Soo Ha had just taken the highest score in the class yet again. 

Joon Gi, following behind as the school emptied for the day, wasn’t even angry.  “What academy does that guy go to?”  He slung his arm over the friend walking beside him. 

They both looked at Soo Ha, who, headphones already back over his ears, didn’t even seem to care that he’d done so well.   x`

The friend frowned, also not understanding how someone could do so well without at least attending cram school.  “When the ‘God of Study’ stays with him, why would he go to an academy?”  The boy’s sigh was more a sound of admiration.  “How come he’s good at studying?  And he’s tall, too…”

He pushed Joon Gi’s arm away, open admiration in his expression.  “And,” he said, voice almost sly, “he’s good at fighting.”

Irritation flared.  “How many times do I have to tell you that it was just luck?”

The friend had the grace to look slightly abashed. 

********************************************************************************************************************************************************

Soo Ha, earphones still firmly in place, frowned as he walked slowly through the city streets.  He’d chosen not to take the bus home, if only because he usually tried to avoid being confined with others, but a day spent in exams had left him weary enough that he wished he had. 

 Across the street, a man all but flew over a nearby crosswalk, trying desperately to make a forgotten meeting and not caring who he ran over in the process.  He bumped into a woman standing at the edge of the sidewalk, knocking her shoulder but never apologizing as he ran on.

Annoyed, the woman turned to watch him, her dark hair falling across tired but pristine features. 

Soo Ha yanked the earphones from his head, his eyes widening.  

It’s her!

The woman began to cross herself, reaching the other side just as the light changed and cars pushed through the space where she’d been.

Soo Ha nearly dropped his bag as he sprinted down the sidewalk, heart racing and eyes glued to the woman as he waited for a chance to cross himself and then losing patience and darting across the street anyway. 

He almost died.  Two different cars screeched to a stop only inches from him, and he was nearly run over by a third before he reached the other side.  He barely even noticed, simply kept running. 

She wasn’t that far, close enough that he could still make out her face if he tried, see the light glinting off her hair.  If the streets had been empty, he probably would have caught her.

As it was, Soo Ha found himself constantly dodging groups of students or shoppers, and by the time he reached the square, sweat stinging in his eyes and his heart breaking, she was gone. 

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

He didn’t go home.  Couldn’t, really, because returning to an empty house would have been more than he could have handled after coming so close.  He went to the dojo instead, and if he was the only one bothering at that time of day and he was just as alone, at least he had a chance to work the frustration from his mind. 

He practiced for hours, his lean body drenched in sweat beneath the taekwando uniform, his eyes red from sweat and pain.  When he finally couldn’t push himself any longer, he leaned against a wall, pulled her diary from his bag, and began to write as the memories all but overwhelmed him.

The doctor pulled on one eyelid, flashing a light against the boy’s pupil.  “Do you feel nauseous or dizzy?”

The man’s voice was kind, and the nine-year-old slowly shook his head.  He’d felt many things since his father’s death, but dizzy was no longer one of them. 

The doctor sighed.  “You still can’t talk?”

Behind them, standing in the doorway, two detectives in dark clothes frowned and took notes.  The doctors still couldn’t explain why Park Soo Ha had yet to speak, but they needed to know what he’d seen and were becoming impatient. 

From looking in their eyes, Soo Ha also knew they were beginning to think he was faking, that maybe he was trying to protect his father’s memory by remaining silent.  One of them already believed Min Joon Gook’s story, and the other, though not a believer, still thought they were wasting their time with a child. 

Soo Ha wanted to tell them how wrong they were, wanted to explain that it wasn’t deceit or even pain stilling his tongue.  How could he tell them that every time he tried to speak of what had happened to his father, his throat swelled with grief until even breathing was painful and words were impossible?

He tried anyway.  Small hands fluttered over a heart heavy with loss, but pain stole his words, and he stared with helpless eyes at the doctor.

The detectives glanced at each other, neither of them pleased.  “Considering that he can’t talk,” one said, “I think we should give up on hearing what happened.”

The other agreed.  “The ongoing investigation and the witness’ story match.  There’s nothing more to do.”

Soo Ha might have been relieved, but he already knew the witness was the same man who had killed his father.  How could they accept his story?  Hadn’t they seen the murder in his eyes?

The boy’s expression suddenly lightened, and he reached for the pen and paper one of the more considerate nurses had left him. 

“I think it’ll suffice to conclude that the kid’s father drove while falling asleep,” the second detective was saying, not caring that the dead man’s son could hear.  

The other detective nodded.  “Then I guess this case will be solved cleanly.” 

Soo Ha held up the paper, now marred by black crayon, and a whimper of need escaped his throat.

The doctor glanced up from his clipboard, alarmed by the sound his small patient was making.  His eyes widened.  “Detective!  Lo…look here!” 

The man walked over, face paling as he read.  He scanned the words twice, then bent over Soo Ha.  “The truck driver killed your father with an iron pipe?”

Soo Ha nodded as hard as he could, ignoring the pain that flared from his injuries. 

The other detective joined them.  “Then…this isn’t a car accident, but a murder case?”

Soo Ha nodded again, and the two men exchanged a look as they considered the possibilities.  “Can’t we get a post-mortem analysis?”

“No.  They cremated him yesterday.”

They stepped away, though not far enough that Soo Ha wouldn’t hear.  “It’s also a kid who hurt his head.  Should we believe this?”

“Weren’t there any witness calls?”

“Not yet.”

“Then it’ll be hard with just what the kid said.”  He didn’t look like he particularly cared.  “It’ll be solved only if a witness appears.” 

Soo Ha stared at them in shock, not understanding why they wouldn’t help, not understanding why the witnesses he knew existed hadn’t come forward, but the words still wouldn’t come.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************

Min Joon Gook leaned into the microphone, face calm in spite of the orange jumpsuit he wore, in spite of the judges and jury watching him.  “It’s definitely not,” he said.  “It’s true that it was a car accident, but murder with a lead pipe?  It’s impossible.”

It might have been convincing.  Min Joon Gook seemed earnest, honest.  Had Soo Ha been able to tear his eyes from the killer’s face, he would have realized how believable the man seemed to the adults in the room. 

The prosecutor wasn’t quite as accepting, though it was his job to doubt.  “But Park Soo Ha, the son of the victim, is saying that you killed his father.”

Min Joon Gook scoffed.  “I did break the car window using an iron pipe to save him, but, after breaking it, I found he was already dead.  I think he misunderstood after seeing that.”

Soo Ha’s fingers tightened on the notepad he’d brought, and once again, he tried to speak out.

And once again, the words didn’t come. 

The killer’s lawyer, a woman with a sharp face, stood.  “The only evidence that the defendant committed murder is the words of Park Soo Ha, who is the only survivor.  Park Soo Ha is only eight years old.  He’s in second grade.  He’s too young to grasp what was going on in that situation.”  She smiled faintly, condescendingly.  “Also, he has a speech disorder because of the shock.  Are you sure that the testimony from this young boy with a head injury is certain and reliable enough to close this case?” 

The judges nodded to themselves and each other, either convinced of Min Joon Gook’s innocence or at least believing the child’s testimony wasn’t enough.   

If they hadn’t been looking at each other, they might have seen the killer’s smile, the satisfaction on his face as he turned to look at the boy he’d tried to kill.  Kid, he thought, it seems that these idiots with smarty brains here are on my side. 

His lip curled, and Soo Ha tasted hate.

“When Park Soo Ha wrote out his testimony,” Judge Seo finally said, “was there any doctor attending?”

The prosecutor stood.  “No.  However, there was a remark from the doctor that the brain is not damaged at all.”

Soo Ha stood, held up the notepad. 

“What did he write?” the judge asked.  “Can anyone next to him read it?”

The nurse assigned to accompany Soo Ha took the notepad from him.  “’It seems these idiots with smarty brains here are all on my side’ is what the defendant ahjussi is thinking,” she read.

Min Joon Gook’s eyes widened. 

“What is he saying?” the judge muttered, confused. 

Soo Ha held out the notepad again. 

“I can read people’s minds,” the nurse hesitantly read. 

The killer’s lawyer smiled, no longer trying to hide her contempt, and even the prosecutor scratched his head, disappointment written on his face. 

“You saw, right?” the lawyer demanded.  “He’s even saying an impossible lie.  Can we use this kid’s testimony as accurate evidence?”

The child looked to the prosecutor, hoping for understanding, needing help, but the man was frowning.  Ugh, he was thinking, Why is everyone getting in the way?  This is useless…

“Is there any more evidence?” Judge Seo asked.  “Are there perhaps any witnesses?”

Min Joon Gook, lip curling and confidence regained, looked again to Soo Ha.  I don’t know how a kid like you can read my mind, he thought at the boy, but thanks.  I’m saved because of you.  Don’t hope for any witnesses, because I told them I would kill them if they came. 

Soo Ha began to cry, great pained sobs escaping as the despair became overwhelming.

And then the door burst open, a girl in a school uniform all but falling through.  She looked to the side, shock widening her eyes even as the boy continued to sob. 

“What is it?” Judge Seo demanded, voice suddenly harsh with recognition. 

The judge’s anger pierced the child’s pain, but as he, too, turned to look at the girl, careful hope blossomed in his chest. 

She’d come.

The girl seemed terrified, and the fear only increased as her eyes met the killer’s.  She swallowed, her breathing impossibly heavy, and then she looked at Soo Ha.

Did she see the hope in his face?  The need?  The fear that still lingered, because, after all, he was still a child trapped in a room with the man who’d murdered his father? 

The girl shook herself, took a deep breath, looked up at the judges.  “I’m a witness for this murder case,” she said, her voice suddenly clear and strong even if she still looked afraid.  “My name is Jang Hye Sung.  When the accident happened, I was there, and I definitely saw it.  That man…” She pointed a sudden finger at Min Joon Gook, then let her hand drop as he stared back, fury in his face.  “…using a steel pipe, hit the driver’s head.  Also, he told us to shut up, and that the man died because he said too much.”

She took a few steps forward, face hard as she came to stand beside Soo Ha, shielding him as much with her presence as she had with her words. 

“Park Soo Ha, is that person a witness?” 

Soo Ha nodded, his own fear not gone but certainly less now that he had someone to support his story. 

The judge turned to Min Joon Gook.  “Did you see that student, defendant?”

Min Joon Gook was equally confident.  “No,” he said.  “It’s the first time I’ve seen her.”

The lawyer, too, rallied herself.  “Judge, the student was not present during the investigations.  She has no ability or right to be a witness.”

The prosecutor all but leapt to his feet.  “Isn’t Park Soo Ha acknowledging her as a witness?” he demanded.  “Judge, I request Ms. Hye Sung be a witness in this trial.” 

The lawyer him.  “Park Soo Ha’s testimony has already lost credibility,” she pointed out sharply.  “Didn’t you hear him talking about reading other people’s minds?  He’s lying right now to charge the defendant as guilty.”

One of the minor judges leaned towards Judge Seo.  “It’ll be hard to accept her as a witness right now.”

The lawyer smiled, believing she’d won, and beside her, the killer all but grinned to himself.

Hye Sung glared at them both. 

With one more glance at Soo Ha, she held up her phone.  “I have a picture here.”

The temperature of the room seemed to drop. 

“I took a picture of that man hitting the car with the pipe.  Will this also not be evidence?”

One of the court assistants took the phone from her, carried it to the prosecutor. 

Hye Sung’s hands were shaking.  Soo Ha, noticing, reached out and slipped his smaller hand into hers.  They looked at each other, fear and determination warring in her expression, only gratitude in his. 

Across the room, the prosecutor looked at the picture, and Min Joon Gook closed his eyes.

Hye Sung released the boy’s hand and walked towards the judges.

The killer screamed. 

It was a scream of pure rage, and before anyone could react, he’d leaped over the defendant’s table towards Hye Sung.  He grabbed her jacket, the weight of his body dropping hers, ignored her screams as his hands found .  “I told you that I would kill you!  I said I’ll kill you!”

There was nothing human in his screams or in his expression.  His fingers tightened around , kept her from drawing air.  

Hands reached for him, tried to pull him away from the girl, but he was too strong.  “I even said I’d kill the people you told!”

Hye Sung’s face turned purple before the officers were finally able to break the killer’s hold and pull him away.  The girl coughed, gasping for air, as Judge Seo shouted, “Looking at the defendant’s actions, it seems it’ll be difficult for the witness to provide sufficient evidence in front of the defendant.  The defendant will now exit!”

He slammed his gavel, and officers began dragging the killer out of the room.

Min Joon Gook was still snarling, his rage stripping the humanity from his face as he glared at the girl.  “I’m definitely going to keep my promise,” he screamed.  “I’m going to kill you!  Don’t think this is over, because it’s just the start!” 

The officers almost had him out the door, though even with panic entering his expression, it was taking four of them to counter his mindless strength.  “I can’t go to jail!  I can’t end it like this!”

He was gone, and Soo Ha looked to Hye Sung.  She was still coughing, her face finally regaining natural color even though her eyes were shining with unshed tears.  She held , gasping.

“Can you continue?” Judge Seo was more righteous anger than compassion, his voice demanding.  “Or will you testify on the next trial date?” 

Hye Sung dropped her hand from .  “No…if I don’t do it right now,” she choked out, “I won’t be able to.  It needs to be now!”

“Fine.  We are going to accept the witness right away.”  Perhaps she’d impressed him, because his voice was suddenly calmer, no less stern but certainly warmer.  “Please sit in the witness chair.”

Hye Sung ignored those offering help and staggered to the witness chair. 

“Please take an oath.”

She forced herself back to her feet, placed her hand on the Bible brought before her. 

Her voice was almost strong again as she recited, “I, in accordance with the dictates of my conscience, will not hide the truth and only tell the truth. I swear that if I lie, I will be punished for perjury…”

Soo Ha, the sweat now dried, frowned down at her diary.  Today, he wrote, I saw someone that looks like you again…where are you right now?

The little boy, still wearing his hospital gown, hesitated beside the girl crying in the courthouse garden.  He tapped her shoulder, and she looked up at him, despair heavy in her pretty face, tears streaking down her cheeks.

He thought he’d never seen anyone more beautiful. 

He looked around, frantically scanning the ground for anything he could use, then grabbing a small rock.  He scratched at the concrete at her feet, the rock leaving a faint white line. 

Thanks.

She stopped crying, and he looked up at her, adoration and hope in his eyes.

She dropped her head in her hand, then suddenly dragged her foot over the chalk, erasing the words.  “There’s no need to be thankful!” she spat.  “I’m regretting that I even came!”

The despair returned, because even if his father’s killer had been taken away, suddenly it was just as important that this girl, this savior, not hate him. 

When she stood and walked away, he followed.

He must not have been quiet enough, because after only a few steps, she spun.  “Don’t follow me!”

The words and the anger in her face hurt, but he didn’t stop following her.

“I told you not to follow me!”

She started to run but tripped instead, falling to her knees in a patch of mud. She didn’t see the diary that fell from her bag, but before he could show her, she turned and grabbed him by the shoulders.  “This is because of you!  This is all because of you!”

He could feel how hard her hands were shaking, could see the terror in her face.  Perhaps he should have been angry at her, maybe even afraid for her, but all he felt was awe.  Though a child himself, Soo Ha still understood just how much courage she must have had, to come forward in spite of her fear. 

“Don’t follow me, because I don’t want to see you!”

The words might have been cruel, but as she released him and the tears again began to drip down her cheeks, he looked into her eyes.

Why did I come?  If that person really tries to kill me, what’ll I do?  He said he’ll come get me after he gets out of jail. How can I live now?

And Soo Ha’s world changed.

I haven’t forgotten you, a much older Soo Ha wrote in the book she’d left behind, his expression softer as he thought of the girl who’d saved him so many times.

The child Soo Ha put his arms around the girl’s neck, willing her to feel safe, feeling her hair beneath his fingers and her body shaking against his. 

If I meet you again, definitely…

There was no hesitation now, no despair choking back his words.  He’d found something stronger than the pain that had kept him silent, and he looked into the girl’s eyes, hoping she could see the determination in his own.  “I’ll…protect you.” 

The girl blinked at him, shocked out of her tears.  “What is this…?  You know how to talk.”

He just nodded, knowing he didn’t have time to tell her of the gift she’d given him.

She smiled.

“I will protect you,” Soo Ha wrote.  “I…will protect you.”

Soo Ha struck the punching bag, the force of his kick sending the bag flying, the diary open on the floor behind him, infusing him with strength.

He lashed out with his foot again and again as a light breeze pushed into the dojo, causing the pages of the diary to flip. 

Today, I saw someone that looks like you, too, he’d written one night after running up an escalator to catch a woman with dark hair, a woman he’d caught but had known with a single glance wasn’t her.

“I’m sorry,” he’d said to the startled woman, though the very next day, he was running through the crowds, dodging pedestrians as he chased a woman too young to be his savior, and then again a few days later, with a woman slightly too old. 

Day after day, he trained, and day after day, his heart broke a little more as the woman he’d been trying to find for ten years continued to evade him.

It didn’t matter.  None of it did—not the countless hours he’d spent walking the streets, scanning the crowds for her face.  Not the uncertainty, the emptiness in his heart.  He’d keep looking, however long it took.

She was everything. 

Where are you, Jang Hye Sung?