Chapter2
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"Hey there," Ji-hoo finally managed, his voice a stranger's. "What's your name?"
The boy tilted his head, studying Ji-hoo with an intensity that felt ancient. "Stranger danger. Mom says I'm not supposed to tell strangers my name."
A laugh bubbled up in Ji-hoo's chest; hysterical, unhinged. "Your mom sounds very smart."
"She's the smartest," the boy agreed solemnly. "But you don't look like a bad guy. You look like... like a prince from my sticker book."
Something cracked in Ji-hoo's chest. "What's your favourite thing in the world?"
"Tteokbokki and dinosaurs," the boy answered immediately. "And Mom's hair smells like cookies."
"You like dinosaurs?"
"I like the long-neck ones. Brachiosaurus. They're gentle."
Ji-hoo felt tears prick at his eyes. He had said the exact same thing at age six. His mother had a photograph somewhere - him in a dinosaur pyjama, holding a plastic brachiosaurus, declaring it his "gentle friend."
"That's my favourite too," Ji-hoo whispered.
The boy beamed, and it was like watching the sun rise over a familiar horizon. "See? Not a bad guy."
A shadow fell over them. A woman's voice, breathless and sharp with maternal panic.
"Hae-sung! I told you to stay close to the bench, I turned around for one second...."
Ji-hoo looked up.
The woman stopped mid-stride, her sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. She was holding a canvas bag with a cartoon dinosaur on it, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, wearing no makeup, a faded university sweatshirt from a school neither of them had attended. She looked tired in the way that single mothers look tired - a bone-deep exhaustion that no amount of coffee could touch.
But Ji-hoo would have recognised her anywhere.
Han Soo-ah.
The girl who had shared her lunch with him when the agency's trainee meals were too small. The girl who had held his hand in the practice room at midnight and promised him that his dreams weren't stupid. The girl who had vanished from his life without a trace the week after their high school graduation, leaving behind a single text message:
"I'm sorry. Don't look for me. Be a star."
She was twenty-five now, the same as him. There were faint lines around her eyes that hadn't been there before. Her cheekbones seemed sharper, as if the past six years had carved her into something more severe. But her lips still had that same imperfect bow shape, and her left hand still twisted the hem of her shirt when she was nervous, just like it had when she'd told him she loved him for the first time.
Their eyes met.
The colour drained from Soo-ah's face. She looked like she'd seen a ghost or perhaps like she'd become one.
"Ji-hoo," she breathed.
The boy, Hae-sung, looked between them, his small brow furrowed. "Mom? You know the prince?"
Soo-ah's hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes darted from Ji-hoo's face to her son's, back and forth, back and forth, cataloging the similarities with growing horror.
"No," she said, too quickly. "No, I don't. Hae-sung, come here. Now."
"But Mom..."
"Now."
The boy shuffled to her side, confused but obedient. Soo-ah grabbed his hand with a grip that was visibly too tight, and she began backing away as if Ji-hoo were a fire she needed to escape.
"Wait," Ji-hoo said, rising to his full height. His voice was low, urgent, carrying the weight of six years of unanswered questions. "Soo-ah, wait."
She shook her head, tears already forming. "There's nothing to say. This was a mistake. We shouldn't....I have to go."
"Hae-sung," Ji-hoo called out, and the boy turned. "It was nice to meet you. I hope you get another ice cream."
Hae-sung smiled sadly. "It's okay. Goodbye."
Soo-ah yanked her son's arm and disappeared into the crowd, heading toward the escalators. Ji-hoo stood frozen, watching them go, his chest heaving as if he'd just run a marathon.
The watch. He was supposed to buy a watch.
Instead, he pulled out his phone and called his private investigator, the one he'd hired years ago to find her, the one who had turned up nothing.
"Park Hyun-woo," he said, his voice trembling. "I need you to drop everything. I found her."
"Found who, boss?"
"The ghost." Ji-hoo closed his eyes, seeing the boy's face behind his lids. "And I think I found my son."
- Writer
