TIP #21: “Quand il me prend dans les bras ll me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose”  
(When he takes me in his arms and speaks to me softly, I see the world through rose-coloured glasses)

“That’s it?”

Wonwoo takes away his phone and whistles a tune, dauntingly frightening to anyone stuck in this kind of dismay. Moonlight drifts into the windowsills of the fruit stall and refracts onto the aging face of Mdm Bae, now painted with crimson dripping from the forehead down.

“You do realize, that those were your last parting words to your daughter right?”

The wrinkles on her face are heavily imprinted tonight, Mdm Bae shuts her eyes, takes a deep breath and nods her head.

“Yeah, I know.” She exhales, “Those are my parting words.”

The red blood inks her porcelain skin but she doesn’t bother to smear it off, staring at Wonwoo with unbatting cold eyes ever redder than blood.

Wonwoo locks his jaw and moves it unwillingly. This sight is horribly familiar but unusual that night, not like he has not done it before. The breeze of December escapes into the small dim kitchen and might be the only thing that fills the gap between them.

He hoists up and moves towards a pile of untouched brown boxes, floor creaking under his every lethargic heel.

“Your fearless attitude puts me off, just like Bae In Hya.” He mouths between mockery and distaste, “You really didn’t say anything just because I told you not to.”

Mdm Bae is huddled by the edge of the corner, with hands and legs tied with a rope that cuts deep into the skin, forcing the veins out of their original.

“Shouldn’t you be begging for me to let you live?”

“You think I’m crazy?” She says, and it’s unbreakably stern, “When I know what’s going on in your head, you think I’ll fall for that cheap trick?”

Wonwoo smashes the spanner against the unsuspecting boxes and it creates a hollow dent in its surface, “Don’t agitate me.”

“When you told me you were Wonwoo, I couldn’t put my finger as to where I’ve heard that name before.” She chatters under her blurry vision to the raging man before her, “I had my suspicions, but I still took you in..”

“Now you’re playing noble?” Wonwoo grips the spanner a tad harder in his icy knuckles.

“I thought maybe, you wanted to start afresh..” Mdm Bae snickers condescendingly, making Wonwoo rethink about his actions and get angrier.

“If In Hya, and your husband, didn’t happen to be there when the accident happened—“

“Why don’t you just stop and hear yourself, Won.” Mdm Bae presses a thin line over her quivering lips, “You’ve been blaming us for your own actions.”

“Shut up. I don’t need a lecture from you.”

He rushes forward, fumbling under the concrete and hunches over, eyes aligned with the other teary pair.

It takes a while for her to say the next string of acidic words that feel like poison to her tongue.

“..were you responsible behind my husband’s murder?”

Wonwoo blinks once, then twice, faster than before and it all makes sense, “At least you’re smarter than the cops.”

A silent tear cascades through her sunken cheeks and she connects the dots, registering the reality that hits her rock bottom.

“If I could, which I would, I would be more than grateful to wipe off your entire bloodline off this face of earth.”

“Don’t you dare touch her.”

It feels all too surreal, like a dream gone terribly wrong but the sweating palms tell her that it’s not. It’s happening right now.

“Oh, I wouldn’t.” Wonwoo laughs venomously, a shrilling one that breaks the silence of the season, “I want your daughter to experience the exact same pain as I did 8 years ago. The pain of losing someone she could’ve saved. With her teeth gritted and thirsty, plotting for revenge. Won’t that be wonderful?” His menacing laugh reverberates across the room but Mdm Bae seems unfazed. In fact, she wears a pitiable expression, one that spells sympathetic.

“I just find you..” Her eyes are droopy but fixated, “pathetic, and I feel really sorry for you.”

“P-Pathetic? You feel sorry for me?” It inevitably comes out as a croak from Wonwoo’s parched, dry throat.

“You spent your whole life resenting someone else.. You must feel so tired. What a hell your life must be.”

“Is that so? I guess your daughter will be living her life like hell too, one where she’ll wish she was dead too, hating me for the rest of her life for killing her beloved mother.”

But all Mdm Bae does is stifle a feeble smile, something that makes Wonwoo feel like instead, he’s on the losing card, “That’s when you’re wrong. You can’t compare yourself to her. While you are a demented, sick person, In Hya is a bright and brilliant girl. My daughter will never live that way. What she has that both you and I never had, is courage.”

Wonwoo seethes through clenched teeth, nails digging into the rusty metal of the spanner, “So you’re still proud of her eventhough her stupid testimonial in court started this whole mess?”

“Yes. Because she brought your heinous crime to light. I am more than proud of that.”

“She is going to be the ing reason for your death and yet you’re still complimenting her right till this moment!” His ears reddened, burning like rough waters that won’t suffice a placate. A second hit of the spanner against cardboard is heard.

With all her final strength, Mdm Bae shakes her head.

“No, Won. You started this.”

Live well, In Hya. I can’t be there for you anymore.

* *

The wake was held in the early morning after Mdm Bae’s body was brought over from Jeju. When Baekhyun accompanied In Hya to the hospital to identify her mother during the autopsy, he had a hard time trying to pacify her because she hyperventilated and was an emotional wreck where he couldn’t pick up after her broken pieces.

Still, In Hya takes in upon herself to get dressed in a proper black, mourning hanbok and organize everything tip top for a final departure. She picked the best photo of her mother smiling, one where she was dressed in a peach pink floral hanbok, because she thought her mother suit best in a traditional costume.

The memorial photo of Mdm Bae accompanied by a velvety tied ribbon looks lovely adorned in the center of the ambush rose wreath. A bronze cross and bible sits on the table, along with a holy tablet.

But this wasn’t how In Hya wanted to be reunited with her.

Jongin, in black and white tux with a hemp armband, bows as he sees his old-time cop friend Suho prancing towards the reception counter. He winds up being responsible for welcoming the visitors. The latter replicates his action and the person next to him, who introduced himself as Yixing, a rookie cop in training, offers compassionate money in a form of an envelope after signing their names on the guestbook.

“If you’re looking for Baekhyun, he’s not here.” Jongin states aloud when Suho steals glances around the despondent room.

Suho and Yixing place a delicate white flower on the glass situated in front of the late Mdm Bae’s tablet, offering their utmost sincere respects. They share a minute of silence.

Suho takes In Hya’s hand in his and his eyes glaze with both regret and sorrow, “I don’t know what I should say to comfort you, Miss In Hya. My deepest condolences.”

In Hya bows, “Thank you for coming.” Her voice is appreciative but still saddened nonetheless. She doesn’t really have much energy so after Suho released her hand, it falls limp next to her clothes. In all honesty, she doesn’t have the mood to talk much less pry on recounting the events of yesterday from Suho.

“My condolences too, Miss In Hya.” Yixing follows.

The day flies like a seam, fast and effortless, but In Hya seems to notice that the clock has stopped ticking for her. She is still in the same damn spot, recalling her last conversation with her mother the day before.

Why did things end up this way? Weren’t they supposed to meet up? Were they merely empty promises, one of those that should’ve never been made? If this is how it goes, In Hya would’ve rather not reunite but know she’s still well and kicking, than to let the harsh fact slap her that her mother will never open her eyes anymore.

She can’t talk to her and share lame jokes anymore. Can’t feel her warmth and scent. She can’t even reach out to her presence any longer.

Why did she end her life when here In Hya was desperately etching to get a piece of it back?

In Hya stares good, and disbelievingly, maybe also with a faint of anger, at a photo of them together along with a slightly odd wristband that Suho had given earlier, claiming that it was found in Mdm Bae’s pocket on the night of her death, as if staring hard will bring her dead mother back to life.

Jongin ushers Suho to a corner, far from the eyes of the other guests and the devastated In Hya.

“You don’t have any leads?”

“The only lead we have is that suicide note Mdm Bae left by the sea. There was a hit to her head, but there were no signs of struggles.” Suho says.

“She hit her own head then write a stupid note? Seriously? It doesn’t even—.”

Suho exhales, “We found her shoes next to the note.”

“Right. That would make a lot of sense. She didn’t want her shoes drenched when she planned to drown.” Jongin says impatiently hinting sarcasm, infuriated with Suho’s answer.

“Look, I know you’re peeved as hell, I am too, but we lack substantial evidence to deduce it was really suicide or.. homicide.”

“Why would she even contemplate suicide? In Hya was excited when she told me they were going to meet next weekend and marked out the specific date. That’s not what someone who wanted to take their own life would do beforehand.”

“I don’t know, Jongin. That’s what we’re going to find out.”

Jongin offers to prepare the small plates of dishes and some alcohol in accordance to the customs of a funeral. Most guests have left by now, only 1 or 2 were left. He sees In Hya still staring at the photograph, eyes a bit aimless and void. Jongin feels worried and lets out a sigh. He quickly rounds up pouring the last bit of soup.

“Here, eat something. I know you haven’t eaten the whole day.” He places the tray full of simple delicacies before her and she looks up, with bags hanging under her eyes.

“I’m not hungry. I had a few bites earlier.”

Jongin knows she’s trying her best not to break.

“I don’t have any relatives. Can you help carry my mother’s coffin later? I don’t think I’m strong enough to lift it.”

He starts becoming uncomfortable with her nonchalance in joking and takes away the photograph from her hand because really, it’ll do some favour if she sheds some form of emotions instead of bottling them up. Like the time he accidentally gatecrashed into her late father’s wa