#92
“I think auntie is heading toward auntie’s true ending now. What do you think? From Seonwoo’s perspective, do you think auntie defied fate because she was such an extraordinary person?”
Nam Seonwoo didn’t answer. He remained silent, staring intently at Baek Heeyeon’s lips, as if hoping to see a trace of expectation, hope, and truth emerge from them.
“No. I simply made a ‘different choice’ within the ‘predetermined flow’.”
Baek Heeyeon’s mouth formed a gentle curve.
“I noticed that while Seonwoo is smart, you’re also quite stubborn. No matter what anyone says, you won’t believe it until you see it with your own eyes—you’re so much like Jihan.”
“…”
“That’s why I wanted to prove it to you myself. That the ending you know might not actually be your true ending.”
With a plea for him not to leave her son, she asked:
“Do you believe me now?”
Nam Seonwoo stared at Baek Heeyeon, unable to nod or shake his head. Unlike his frozen body, his mind was racing rapidly, like scattered puzzle pieces finding their places.
The first thing that came to mind was a dream scene he couldn’t remember. The pure white hospital room was neither an intensive care unit nor a recovery room, but a general ward, suggesting he hadn’t died instantly in that traffic accident.
Though everything felt unfamiliar in that fleeting moment, what he clearly felt was loneliness. The teeth-chattering silence was so frightening that even in that hazy dream, he desperately thought and repeated to himself: I don’t want to be in a place like this, not even for a moment.
Being with Kang Jihan was lonely. But perhaps he unconsciously knew. The reality of being left alone, without even Kang Jihan, would be as cold as that pale hospital room.
He was afraid to wake up. So he desperately closed his eyes, as if running away. If he kept his eyes shut, at least that painful reality wouldn’t unfold.
It’s not that he thought “it would be better to die.” Rationally thinking, being left alone would be painful, but not so devastating that he would choose death. Nam Seonwoo knew his own character well.
But that was only when rationality was functioning.
The moment of hovering between life and death was like letting go of the reins. In that blurry, mixed-up state, the childlike instinct rooted below consciousness flooded in. So the childish complaint that waking up was scary ultimately determined the direction of the reins.
Nam Seonwoo rubbed his face.
‘…So I didn’t die because of the accident.’
The fact that his death in his previous life was ultimately his own choice felt so empty that his rapidly spinning mind suddenly stopped, leaving him dazed.
But Nam Seonwoo soon shook it off. Though shocking, that wasn’t what mattered now. He carefully retraced the story Baek Heeyeon had told him.
So, what she was trying to say was… since his death at thirty-four was ultimately Nam Seonwoo’s choice, he could reach a “different ending” if he made a different choice in the accident fourteen years later.
‘But…’
Even so, a vague anxiety still lingered in one corner of his heart. Could he really avoid death with just the will to wake up, the determination to return to Kang Jihan who would be waiting for him? If he were to die again, and cause Kang Jihan an irreparable wound, then what…
At that moment, Baek Heeyeon wrapped her hand around Nam Seonwoo’s.
“Seonwoo, are you talking to a ghost right now?”
“What?”
“I’m saying what’s in front of you isn’t an illusion. Auntie is alive right now, see?”
Nam Seonwoo looked down at her hand. The form and warmth he felt on his skin were certainly real. Baek Heeyeon, who had died without any life-extending treatment in his previous life, was now existing right before his eyes.
It was as if her presence was telling him: Things can change. So you no longer…
“Oh my, child. Are you crying again?”
…need to push Kang Jihan away.
Ironically, from the moment he had resolved to part ways, he’d imagined different endings with Kang Jihan more often. How wonderful it would be if he could just like Kang Jihan for a long time, a very long time, without worrying about separation. He had imagined it endlessly.
That fleeting assumption had grown even larger since reuniting with Kang Jihan. It was actually painful every time he pushed away Kang Jihan, who approached him unchangingly, while reaffirming his determination to part. Today was the same. When Kang Jihan said, “Can’t you just look at me,” he wanted to go back and embrace him.
That wish, which he had only longed for in his imagination, could become a reality—the proof was tangibly felt in his hand. Nam Seonwoo gripped Baek Heeyeon’s hand tightly, as if holding onto a lifeline.
“Your eyes will be swollen tomorrow. I should get some ice from home.”
Seeing the tears flowing like a broken faucet, Baek Heeyeon joked playfully. This time, Nam Seonwoo could laugh along. Although his lips trembled miserably and tears continued to flow, the smile he was finally able to make lingered on his face for a long time.
By the time Baek Heeyeon’s handkerchief became too soaked with tears to be useful, Nam Seonwoo had stopped crying. He sniffled and opened his mouth.
“About what I was going to ask you then.”
There were still unanswered questions. Things like why he could return to the past, or the light from the pendant. So Nam Seonwoo asked the question he hadn’t been able to ask before.
“I never wished to go back to the past, so how did I return?”
It was something he couldn’t ask because Kang Jihan had suddenly rushed out. Remembering Baek Heeyeon’s sad back then, Nam Seonwoo carefully examined her expression.
Baek Heeyeon was staring at the necklace in her palm. But Nam Seonwoo couldn’t lower his gaze to follow hers. Because the pendant reflected in Baek Heeyeon’s eyes was glowing. Nam Seonwoo quickly looked down at Baek Heeyeon’s palm, but the pendant’s light was dead.
At that moment, Nam Seonwoo recalled when the three of them were having a meal together. When he mentioned that the pendant’s light seemed faded, Baek Heeyeon had made an enigmatic comment: “Is that how it appears to you?”
Thinking about it now, he had a certain intuition. He felt that the pendant Kang Jihan had kept as a memento was the medium that had enabled the return to the past.
“Auntie knew then. That you both traveled back in time simultaneously. Although ‘traveled back’ isn’t quite the right expression.”
“Simultaneously…?”
After pausing briefly, Nam Seonwoo raised his voice.
“Are you saying that Jihan, that Jihan also…”
Baek Heeyeon’s face was composed. Her expression, having already accepted an enormous grief, was an answer in itself, but Nam Seonwoo muttered weakly, as if he couldn’t possibly believe it.
“…you mean he died?”
“…”
“Why… no, how…?”
Seeing Nam Seonwoo visibly agitated, Baek Heeyeon pondered for a moment.
She could guess the context in which her son had used the pendant, but it was just a guess. Of course, if she recalled her son’s behavior over the past two years, that guess would probably be correct. However, telling this to someone else was another matter.
“Auntie doesn’t know for certain either. I’m just guessing.”
“Please tell me.”
Nam Seonwoo looked like he might burst into tears at any moment. His eyes welling up again were so pitiful that even an onlooker would furrow their brow in sympathy. Shaking her head as if she had no choice, Baek Heeyeon slowly began to speak.
“First, I should explain this pendant.”
She summarized the family heirloom in concise sentences. ‘The pendant, which can be used only once at the final moment of life, allows one to go to the moment they wish to return to.’ After saying that much, Baek Heeyeon looked at Nam Seonwoo for a moment.
It was a story difficult for an ordinary person to believe. She expected him to respond that it was nonsense, but Nam Seonwoo was listening with the most serious expression. He seemed to have already guessed to some extent. Thinking he was indeed smart, Baek Heeyeon continued.
“But would Jihan believe that? You know what he’s like. Without the belief that one can return, this is just an ornament. So I was worried, but it seems Jihan eventually came to believe it. Judging by how you both returned.”
“But why did I…”
“I was puzzled too. I heard only the owner could return. But then a thought occurred to me. If neither my mother nor grandmother ever used it, then they wouldn’t know everything about it either.”
Baek Heeyeon gently clutched the pendant.
“So from here on is speculation. What if the desire to see ‘someone’ again was stronger than the wish to return to ‘some moment’?”
“What?”
“If the feeling was just wanting to be ‘together’ with someone, regardless of the moment… perhaps that person could also return ‘together.’ Because…”
Looking warmly at Nam Seonwoo, who must have been her son’s desperate wish, Baek Heeyeon said:
“The person Jihan wanted to meet wasn’t Seonwoo from some moment in the past, but the Seonwoo who had shared all that time with him.”
