Episode 13

Tear-streaked eyes trembled with suppressed emotion, while a deep ache stirred sorrowfully in her chest.

She knew all too well that everything had started because of her own stubbornness.

She had experienced something rough and intense, something she had never encountered before in her life. And it had been with ‘that man.’

What had begun as a childish defiance, born from sheer obstinance, had somehow shifted into something else—a raw and consuming fear.

It was the painful realization that he had, in truth, bought her with money.

Even knowing it was something she could never undo, she couldn’t help but wish she could turn back time. It was far too late for that, but the thought lingered all the same.

What made it all the more agonizing was the contradiction: the man who now terrified her as a creditor had also been, in a way, the kindest person she had ever known.

He was the only one who had ever shown her a kind of generosity she’d never experienced before.

But now, to him, she was nothing more than a commodity—something he could buy whenever he wanted, a product that could be found anywhere for the right price.

The more she pieced together fragmented memories of him, the more the bitter knot in her chest swelled and surged, unbearable in its intensity, threatening to tear her apart.

* * *

The government building, blanketed in thick snow, stood quietly under the steady fall of large, fluffy flakes. A few uniformed correctional officers, along with administrative staff, were busy clearing the pathways, but the relentless snowfall erased their progress with every passing moment, leaving fresh footprints behind.

Sohee exhaled, her warm breath forming white puffs in the frosty air as she tucked her reddened hands into her coat pockets for warmth. Each step toward the visiting room was heavy, burdened by lingering thoughts that weighed her down.

She and her mother were far from being close enough to exchange warm greetings or kind words. Still, with the turn of the year, Sohee had thought to herself that perhaps she ought to visit.

It had been just a passing thought, really—until one of the students she tutored fell ill with the flu this morning, leaving her schedule unexpectedly open. Hesitant at first, her steps had eventually brought her here, to this place.

Was it because her mother was her only remaining family, the only tether she could grasp onto?

What a ridiculous thought, she mused bitterly to herself.

As Sohee touched the crinkling envelope in her pocket, she felt a pang of shame at her own foolishness—hoping for even a sliver of affection from the woman who had given birth to her. It was the same envelope of money the man had thrown at her two days ago, like payment for a service.

Her face, which had been set in a sardonic expression, darkened with a sudden gloom. The image of him, his cold, dismissive glance, flashed vividly in her mind, stirring her already turbulent emotions.

‘He left like that—will he ever come back?’ she wondered. ‘Or will he just send one of his subordinates next time?’

She recalled hearing someone say that someone had died. His face at that moment wasn’t shocked but rather irritated, as if it were just another inconvenience in his day. The memory of his expression was clear and unsettling.

He must be a man used to death, someone involved in dangerous things. Yes, he was undoubtedly dangerous, and yes, he had mistaken her for someone who sold her body.

And yet…

When she thought of those moments they’d shared, her chest ached. But what troubled her even more was how she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. It was ridiculous, she knew, yet the thoughts lingered, persistent and unshakable.

“Ah…” she sighed, caught up in her spiraling thoughts.

Distracted, she didn’t notice the person walking toward her until they collided sharply, their shoulders crashing together. The force sent her stumbling backward, nearly losing her balance before she managed to steady herself.

A raspy voice, thick with phlegm, barked from the other side.

“Hey, sweetheart. Where the hell are your eyes?”

“…I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her voice subdued as she lowered her gaze, unwilling to meet his.

Startled, Sohee bowed her head in apology, but when she looked up, she was met with the face of a man whose overly prominent silicone-enhanced nose bridge stood out. He abruptly leaned closer, a sleazy grin on his face.

“You look familiar. Where’ve I seen you before? A room? Nah, too pretty for that,” he sneered, his words dripping with insinuation.

Sohee’s face twisted in displeasure at his crude remarks.

“No, you’ve got the wrong person,” she replied firmly.

“Not a chance. I know I’ve seen that face somewhere,” he insisted, poking her shoulder lightly with his finger, his breath heavy with the stench of alcohol.

Driven by an instinctive aversion, Sohee took a step back, putting more distance between them.

“I said, it’s not me,” she repeated, her voice sharper now.

When his hand reached for her shoulder again, her tone rose, drawing attention from nearby correctional officers busy clearing the snow. Their curious gazes turned toward the small commotion.

“Damn it,” the man muttered under his breath, clearly irritated by the unwanted attention. With one last glaring sweep of his eyes over Sohee, he turned and hurried off toward the direction of the public service office.

Watching his retreating figure for a moment, Sohee hastily resumed her steps toward the visiting room, eager to get away from the scene and the suffocating interaction. Snowflakes, now larger and heavier, fell onto the bridge of her nose as she hurried forward.

“You’re all set. You can go in now,” a staff member said after verifying her receipt and ID.

Entering the visiting room, Sohee was met with the dry, stale heat of a heater, the air barren and heavy, matching the desolate atmosphere of the space.

Through the glass partition, a correctional officer stood guard, and when their eyes met, he offered her a peculiar smile, one that sent an odd, uneasy shiver through her.

Sohee lowered her gaze, avoiding eye contact naturally, and stared blankly at her knees hidden beneath her skirt as she waited for her mother, who was being held here.

It wasn’t long before Jin Hye-yeon, dressed in a prison uniform, emerged through the iron door and sat across from her.

At the sound of movement, Sohee raised her head and quietly observed the woman through the thick glass partition that muffled all sound. Hye-yeon looked gaunt, much thinner than before her incarceration, but she hadn’t lost her natural beauty. Despite her middle age, she appeared far younger than her years, so much so that it was hard to believe this was the same woman who had once been consumed by drugs.

“When I spend money and time to call, you never pick up. But now you’re here, huh?”

The curt voice came through the receiver as soon as the visitation phone line connected. Sohee focused on the sound of her mother’s voice coming through the device, out of habit also reading her lips as she spoke.

“…You called while I was working. I couldn’t answer,” Sohee replied quietly.

“Oh, sure. You couldn’t answer. And yet my only daughter can’t even bother to visit me. You’ve sent money to my commissary account just once, haven’t you? Do you know how picky the head of my block is? I’ve had to spend so much to buy things to keep her satisfied—it’s a constant drain. You brought money today, didn’t you?”

‘What did I expect from someone like her?’

Sohee thought bitterly, the lump rising in her throat overshadowing any warm feelings. Instead of asking how her mother had been, the sharp words spilled out before she could stop them.

“I don’t have any money to give you. I can barely make my weekly interest payments,” she said, her voice cold and firm.

“You always know how to make someone lose all affection for you. I gave birth to you, but honestly…”

Jin Hye-yeon trailed off, her smirk vanishing as the mention of the debt she’d left behind silenced her. A heavy silence settled between the mother and daughter, so alike yet separated by the glass wall.

“Why… why did you call me?” Sohee finally broke the quiet, her gaze fixed on the woman who was like a reflection of herself.

Though Jin Hye-yeon hadn’t contacted her since her incarceration, the prison’s number had shown up as missed calls several times recently. Sohee knew that calls from the facility were limited to specific times, but she had always been at work when they came.

Even if she had seen the missed calls during her free time, she wasn’t entirely sure she would have answered.

“The thing I gave you… you still have it, right?” Jin Hye-yeon asked in a hushed voice, leaning closer to the glass. Despite knowing that all conversations in the visiting room were recorded and monitored, she instinctively lowered her tone as though someone might overhear.

“You haven’t shown it to anyone, have you?”

‘Who would I even show it to?’

Sohee thought to herself as she nodded slightly, her voice quiet as she replied.

“…No, I haven’t.”

“Good, that’s right. That thing is what keeps both of us alive, you hear me? Stay sharp and make sure you don’t lose it. Got it?”

As Sohee watched her mother’s stern expression, the memory of that day flooded back to her. It was the day a sudden downpour hit, unannounced.

The same woman who had disappeared with her lover, unreachable even when her father had hanged himself, had unexpectedly shown up at her rooftop room. Drenched to the bone, Jin Hye-yeon’s entire body shook as though from fever. Her clouded eyes darted around wildly, giving Sohee the immediate impression that she wasn’t in her right mind.

Panic-stricken, Jin Hye-yeon had grabbed Sohee, pressing her trembling lips close to Sohee’s left ear as she urgently whispered,

“Sohee! Listen to me carefully. You need to take this and hide it somewhere no one will ever find it. You don’t need to know what it is, but if we lose it, both you and I are as good as dead. Never show this to anyone, understand? And don’t say a word about it to anyone, no matter what. Got it? Answer me!”

After that frantic encounter, Jin Hye-yeon disappeared again, and the next time Sohee saw her was at the detention center, charged with drug use. From that day on, Sohee had inherited her mother’s debts, left to shoulder the burden in her place.

“Do you remember Gu Myung-chul?”

The mention of the familiar name made Sohee’s cheek twitch involuntarily.

“I think he’s caught on to what’s going on, but he doesn’t know where it is. He hasn’t come to see you, has he? You’ve seen his photo plenty of times.”

Hearing her mother utter his name so brazenly made her stomach churn with disgust.

“No, he hasn’t come, and even if he did, I wouldn’t tell him where it is,” she replied sharply.

“Just hang in there a little longer. Once I’m out, this will all be over. As soon as I get out of here, I’ll…” Jin Hye-yeon’s voice trailed off, her eyes darting nervously before she abruptly shut her mouth.

Sohee’s fists clenched tightly on her lap, her knuckles turning white. Her left ear seemed to buzz as if submerged underwater, muffling the words around her.

“Mom… are you planning to use drugs again?” Sohee’s voice trembled with emotion. “You promised—said it would all be over once you got out. That’s why I’m holding onto that thing for you, isn’t it?”