The night of December 31, 2027, hummed with the vibrancy of hope, the city alive with the promise of a new year. People thronged the streets, their faces bright with the anticipation of what was to come. The air pulsed with laughter, songs, and the unmistakable hum of celebration. The Lotte World Tower loomed in the distance, a beacon drawing all those who wished to greet the new year in joy. Some danced, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of the world, others sang, their voices rising as one. A few, caught in the magic of the night, whispered promises of forever to their lovers.
But as I moved among them, I felt like a stranger, drifting through a dream that wasn't mine. I watched their joy, felt the warmth of their happiness, but it was all distant, like a scene I was no longer part of. In these past few years, I had lost something vital within me—a spark, a connection. It was as if the world was numb, and so too was I. The ache that had once defined me had become a hollow silence, and now, I wondered: what do people live for? What keeps them burning bright when all I know is pain? I, who had known nothing but sorrow, felt I didn't even deserve to feel anything at all.
My feet carried me past a library, its name faintly glowing in the winter night: Songpa Public Library. I paused, the urge to enter a strange pull, though I wasn't sure why. I stepped inside, the scent of old paper and ink filling the air. I wandered among the shelves, my fingers grazing the spines of countless stories, lives, and worlds. And then, my eyes landed on it—a single book that seemed to call to me. I pulled it from the shelf: The Eternal Curse by Seo Eun-ha.
A sudden, sharp pain tore through me, a forgotten memory stirring in my chest. It was a feeling I hadn't felt in so long—a pang of longing, of loss. I took the book to the counter without thought. The librarian, a kind-eyed woman, smiled as she scanned my card.
"You're taking this one too? It's become quite the sensation," she said, her voice soft and warm. "In the past three years, I've sold over ten thousand copies."
I barely responded, my gaze cold and distant, my voice muted by the weight of my grief. "Yes," I said, my voice a thin whisper. "It's for me."
The librarian's smile wavered, then she continued. "I adore this book. I dream of meeting the author one day. Maybe getting her signature."
My heart clenched. Without a second thought, I spoke the truth I hadn't allowed myself to say aloud for so long. "She's dead."
The librarian froze, her expression faltering. "What... did you say, sir?"
I didn't meet her eyes, merely turned away, my voice barely a breath. "She was my sister. And my name is Seo—"
I could feel her shock like a physical presence as I walked away, but I didn't stop. Snowflakes began to fall, delicate and silent, mingling with the cold that seeped through my layers. I walked past a flower shop and, without thinking, entered. The old man behind the counter looked up, a soft smile on his face.
"Buying flowers for someone special?" he asked, his voice a balm for the silence around me.
I didn't answer with joy or love, only with a quiet truth. "Yes."
He handed me the flowers, his smile still kind. "I hope you and your loved one have a better year ahead."
I took the bouquet, my heart cold, my words colder. "It's for my sister's memorial."
The man paused, the smile faltering for just a moment before he quickly hid it again, pressing the flowers into my hands. "Then... may these bring her peace. A gift for her, for a new year."
I nodded, my voice lost in the night, and left. As I walked, my gaze caught sight of a poster on the wall—a celebrity, Min-Joo. A flicker of something stirred within me, a small smile escaping my lips. You finally chose yourself, I thought. Finally.
The countdown began. The city's heartbeat quickened, a chorus of voices rising as they shouted in unison, "10, 9, 8..." The sky erupted in brilliant colors, fireworks bursting across the heavens, their light turning night into day. For a moment, the world seemed alive again, and I stood there, looking up, but my thoughts were far away.
I turned and walked toward the House of Memory and Eternity, a place where echoes of the past lingered, where those who had been lost were honored. I placed the flowers at the top of the glass case, where a photograph of Eun-ha rested. My heart twisted in the stillness, and I whispered to her, my voice thick with sorrow.
"Eun-ha... long time no see. It's me, your shameless brother. It's almost a year now, isn't it? I've worked so hard these past three years... never resting, never allowing myself to breathe. I should have knelt that day. I should have begged for your forgiveness. I'm sorry, Eun-ha."
Tears fell, unbidden, and I let them come, the grief too heavy to carry alone any longer. Then I heard footsteps behind me, soft and hesitant. I turned, and there stood Min-Joo, her face a mirror of my own pain, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
I wiped my face, trying to collect myself. "Don't worry. I'm leaving," I said, but my heart felt the weight of her gaze.
She didn't let me go without speaking her truth. "Mom divorced Dad three years ago. He's in jail now... for everything he did to us. But of course, you don't know, do you? You never came back. You left after Eun-ha died."
Her words pierced through me like arrows, each one leaving a wound deeper than the last. I stopped walking and turned to face her fully. "That's good," I said, my voice hollow. "I wish you the best. Truly."
Min-Joo ran toward me, her face filled with urgency. She pressed a card into my hand, her words raw with emotion. "Please, call me. If you ever need anything. Stop punishing yourself. We've all suffered... but I forgave you a long time ago. And Eun-ha would have forgiven you too, if she were still here."
I looked at her, her tears falling like rain, and for a moment, I felt the weight of all the time lost. But then I spoke, my voice soft and breaking, "But she's not alive, Min-Joo."
I didn't take the card. I couldn't. And I turned away, each step heavier than the last.
As I walked into the cold night, the snow fell around me like a blanket, the world seeming to fade as I moved farther from the girl who had once been my sister, from the family I had failed. And with each step, I thought, It's better this way. It's much better for her not to have a brother like me.