Him
At Hergiswil
About a year ago
What does a person feel upon learning that a loved one has died?
There’s shock—the kind of surprise that stuns you like a bucket of icy water poured straight onto your head, or the first strike of a fist to your gut. It’s strong enough to incapacitate you for seconds, minutes—hours, even—before you double over.
But to Jeong Hyeok, the stupor that beset him after hearing the news of his brother’s passing has been lasting for days already. He’s running on autopilot; he’s sane enough to function although he knows deep inside that he is barely breathing. Maybe, it’s his form of denial, or his way of coping—he isn’t sure. And to be frank, it is quite pointless to know for certain when grief has devastated one so much.
Now, as he stands by himself on the patio after his turn on stage, he realizes that he must have pushed his luck merely by showing up for this performance. It’s a mystery, he thinks, that despite his current state of lethargy, he is able to play a decent piece—let alone, Valse Sentimentale. That waltz by Tchaikovsky was Mu Hyeok’s favorite, so it was practically torture from the moment he hit the first key.
Except that he cannot feel anything.
And apparently, that indifference somehow translated in his final performance according to the stranger who is on the other side of the pillar he is leaning on.
“That encore was a bit… uninspiring,” he hears her say in their vernacular. “Was it really supposed to make us feel worthless? It’s like a cry for help.”
Her reaction renders him speechless. He initially assumes that she is mocking him for his poor renditions earlier that evening. However, he figures soon afterwards that she probably isn’t. For one, it’s already past sunset; it would be difficult to register someone else’s face unless the lights decorating the small garden were switched on. And her subsequent comments prove that she’s likely guessing that he is a visitor just like her.
“You see, I was under the impression that the purpose of the concert was to uplift us, to make us reconsider our decision to pull the plug on our own. I was expecting to have a change of heart—or something to that effect,” she continues musing to herself. “But why do I feel more depressed than ever?”
A dry chuckle escapes her before she proceeds to grumble, “Seriously—are they trying to get rid of us faster? Is that a brand new suicide method they’re introducing? Have they run out of lethal injections to give us?”
“Are you listening?” she slyly asks him. “Do you even understand Korean? Probably not—or else, you would have reacted.”
Her random ramblings and morbid sarcasm oddly amuse him, and he decides to go along with her speculation by keeping quiet. Nevertheless, the humor eventually fades away.
She sighs aloud, then tells him, “All my life, people around me made sure that I was aware of how unwanted I was. My eomoni took me out for a long drive on a winter evening to abandon me on a beach when I was a kid, my jageun oppa practically waited for me to die on the floor of the bathroom a couple of years ago…”
“And my abeoji… Well…” by the tone of her voice, it’s easy for him to visualize her smirking bitterly. “Let’s say that having the great Yoon Jeung Pyeong as a parent only looks good on paper.”
“I need some sort of consolation tonight, not another justification for this suicide trip,” she rants out him—or the dark void before them, rather. “I need something to make me believe that even though it’s impossible for the people I care for to ever love me back, I must keep on living. And that somehow—by some freaking miracle—I actually could.”
The silence that falls upon them is fragile and distressing. There’s a nagging feeling to say anything to appease her, to comfort her… like a normal person would under the same circumstances. And yet, at that instant, finding the right words to encourage her ends up being futile; he keeps coming up empty. Come to think of it, how is he supposed to console her when he’s also (He may deny this all he wants, but he knows that it’s true.) desperate to be consoled?
Thankfully, she takes him out of his misery by speaking again.
“Anyway… I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” she mumbles after a resigned exhale. “And I’m sure that you’re creeped out at this point because I’ve been talking shamelessly in a language you might not have even heard of. But I had to have some form of catharsis, or else—”
The demanding buzz of her phone startles them both, and it effectively disrupts her from voicing out her frustrations.
“Eomma.”
To his ears, the way she breathes out the honorific hints at her hopelessness and relief combined.
“Yeah, I…” he hears her pause to gulp, and her tone becomes a little standoffish from here forward. “I’m on vacation.”
She then begins to walk away from their spot on the patio. And even so, he keeps himself acutely attuned to her voice as it gets drowned out by the loud clacking of her heels against the parquet. The apathy between her and her mother becomes more pronounced with each curt exchange—it’s really hard to miss.
From a distance, he notes how she remains firm and composed throughout the dreadful conversation. And it’s quite a marvel to him considering that a few moments ago, she sounded utterly vulnerable.
Like a young lady who lay on the cold floor practically lifeless. Or a little girl stranded on a deserted coast in the middle of the night, shivering in fear.
He never saw her face—and he didn’t even try to steal a glance her way. But he has an ominous feeling in his gut that the image she painted in his mind shall linger for a long time.
You’ll be alright.
It dawns upon him later on that this was what he would have wanted to say to her that autumn evening. He would have told her that fortune and misfortune come by turns like a twisted rope. Neither of the two is permanent, so she can rest assured that things will be fine in the end.
Then again, he didn’t. He simply just couldn’t bring himself to pacify anyone with words he no longer believed in anymore.
The regret of holding his tongue at that moment would gnaw at his conscience every once in a while. Each time it does, his thoughts would be transported back to that secluded villa in Hergiswil. He’d frequently find himself wondering how his unexpected companion is doing—and if she even survived that night. Sure, the entire process set by Compassio for assisted suicide is meticulous, so much so that their persistence to repeatedly ask whether or not the person truly wishes to die often yields positive results. They are able to convince people to change their minds about dying—or take another shot at living, at least—at the very last minute.
Still, he couldn’t help but worry about her and feel guilty for not trying to reach out when he had the chance.
•••
Him
At Rostov-on-Don
The morning after he left Switzerland
Jeong Hyeok should be on a flight to Pyongyang. Instead, he’s sitting at a café not too far from the Rostov-on-Don Airport having breakfast.
His eyes switch back and forth from the window to the front door; he’s a little anxious. And before him, the roast beef sandwich he ordered together with a cup of black coffee stays untouched.
It’s been a while since he has arrived. But until now, he still cannot believe that he made a quick pit stop in the most unlikely place. He is being spontaneous—and somehow, that doesn’t seem right.
“Is there something wrong, Ri Jeong Hyeok dongmu?” he remembers Seo Dan nervously asking him earlier over the phone. “You said you wouldn’t be able to come.”
“Change of plans, I guess,” he replied. “I thought it’s a good idea to have a brief interlude before spending the next ten years in the military.”
He wasn’t lying when he told her that. Although, he wasn’t completely telling the truth either.
“Ri Jeong Hyeok dongmu.”
He turns and sees a friendly face in Seo Dan, who is merely a few feet away from him. She stands taller in every sense of the word, and her choice in clothing attests to how much she has grown over the years.
Gone is the girl in pigtails who blushes every time they pass by each other in the halls of their school and avoids his gaze during family dinners and summer outings. In its place is a woman whose manner of carrying herself is de rigueur among modern, career-driven professionals of international caliber.
It’s absurdly funny that the resemblance between his soon-to-be fiancée and his lover is uncanny.
At once, Jeong Hyeok shakes off that notion and rises to his feet.
“Seo Dan dongmu,” he greets her with a polite nod.
She meekly returns the gesture, then asks, “How are you?”
“I’m alright,” he answers. “You look well, by the way.”
“Thank you,” she gives him a tiny smile as she speaks. “How long will you be staying here?”
“Two days. I’ll be flying home the morning after your performance.”
“That’s wonderful. Where are you staying?”
“I booked a room at a lodging near the theatre square.”
“Ah. I see.”
He catches the disappointment on her face upon hearing that he didn’t check in at the same hotel. But it was fleeting; she recovered right before he could even explain himself or change the subject.
“So…” Dan buries her hands deep in her pockets. “Do you want to go somewhere else? Any landmarks you’d like to visit while you’re here?”
“I’m actually looking for a piano,” he lets the answer out without thinking.
Once again, his candid impulse leaves her flustered.
“A piano,” she repeats.
“Right. I was wondering if you could help me find one,” he keeps his tone measured to conceal the urgency in it. “Do you know a place where I can work on something?”
“A colleague of mine owns a small recording studio near the theatre,” she confirms shortly afterwards. “I can introduce you to him.”
“Great,” he breathes out. “Thank you, dongmu. I truly appreciate it.”
“I’m glad I could be of assistance,” she shrugs.
Then, she chews on her cheek for a moment before asking, “Does this mean that you’re not completely turning your back on music?”
When he does not respond, she adds, “I don’t intend to pry or anything. It’s just that… you’ve got a very promising career ahead of you, Ri Jeong Hyeok dongmu. And it’s a shame if you’re going to quit for good.”
“I wish I had an answer to that. But at this point in time, I really don’t know,” he murmurs with a sad smile. “The truth is, I stopped thinking about the future to avoid getting my hopes up for nothing.”
“It’s a harrowing experience when life doesn’t unfold as you expected it to,” he says—more to himself than to her.
Even so, she frowns at the ambiguity of his reply.
“Please don’t let this be your swansong,” Dan tells him.
With a sigh, Jeong Hyeok mutters, “I honestly hope it isn’t.”
He closes his eyes for a second or two, and all he sees is the image of Se Ri sleeping soundly in his arms the night before.
“But if this is indeed the last composition I am ever going to write”—he stops momentarily to choke back the surging tears—“then I have to make sure that it’s heartfelt enough to provide consolation to someone.”
•••
Her
At Zürich
Winter of 2014
Due to the thunderstorm, the commute from the airport to the lodging took longer than usual. The sudden downpour brought traffic mayhem to the busy city, and Se Ri watched from the backseat of the taxi as sheets of rain fell down from the gray skies and splattered against the windows of the cars around them.
She doesn’t mind it, though—even if ultimately, she arrives at the doorstep dripping wet and shivering because she forgot to bring an umbrella when she stepped out this morning.
It’s been a long while since she last went out to see the Old Town. Except for the once-a-week trips to the market, she spends hours inside her room. She follows a boring routine of waking up, cooking meals, and doing chores until it’s time for bed. During afternoons, she watches a movie or reads a book, waiting for the sun to set.
And more often than not, she doesn’t remember anything significant from the previous day simply because nothing happens in her life—at all.
For months, she’s been stuck in a limbo. She’s neither alive nor dead—a lost soul who is caught betwixt and between.
However, today is an exception. She woke up this morning with a purpose—and that is to put a closure to something she’s been guilty about for a long time now.
“Well… this isn’t the kind of brunch I expected,” Gu Seung Jun said with a blankly inscrutable expression shrouding his face.
They were at a café by the Limmatquai per his invitation. And Se Ri took the opportunity to come clean about her clandestine affair with Ri Jeong Hyeok.
“It stings, Yoon Se Ri-ssi,” he casually admitted to her. “Although I cannot blame you for it. Our relationship was kind of doomed from the beginning.”
“I’m really sorry,” she apologized for the umpteenth time.
“I’m sorry too,” he told her. “I should have tried harder.”
“It’s not entirely your fault, Gu Seung Jun-ssi. I should have also done my fair share in making it work for us. But I didn’t.”
“Maybe it’s because we kept on treating this set-up as a charade we had to go along with.”
“Yeah…” she sighed, then averted his gaze to stare at her hands which were balled into fists on her lap. “Maybe you’re right.”
From her peripheral vision, she saw him recline on his chair and turn his attention towards the riverscape. He pursed his lips together, and all he did after that was to quietly observe the crowd that passed them by. He looked unusually calm for someone who just found out that his girlfriend cheated on him. (She actually prepared for the worst scenario, which was him throwing a fit in public because of his hurting ego.) And she was grateful that he was acting civil about it.
Nevertheless, the feeling of respite turned out to be short-lived when Seung Jun said, “For the record, I never saw other women while I was dating you.”
So much for being civil.
“It’s true—I was loyal to you,” he repeated after not hearing anything from her. “But you didn’t seem to care.”
Glancing up at him, Se Ri asked, “What do you mean?”
“It’s always as though you were rejecting any form of affection because you were scared it would break down your walls,” he explained to her, albeit with obvious reluctance. “Or you were probably expecting it to come from somebody else to a point wherein you constantly fail to appreciate whatever kindness others were showing unto you.”
“Anyhow…” he heaved out a defeated exhale and leaned closer. “I am not mad at you. I just hope that you try to be more open to the idea of being loved and loved back by the people around you, Yoon Se Ri-ssi.”
In the end, they mutually agreed to amicably separate. Seung Jun proposed that even though they decided to part ways, they should at least become friends—and that Se Ri should see him off to make amends for viciously breaking his heart.
On a normal day, she would throw a harsh remark for his audacity to demand something like that from her. But she merely scoffed and booked them a cab going to the airport.
•••
Her
At Zürich
Later that afternoon
It’s the first time Se Ri has come face-to-face with the infamous tenant of the fifth floor. The woman notorious for filing complaints over trivial things has come knocking on her door, and she immediately thinks she’s in trouble.
“Good afternoon,” Se Ri carefully enunciates the English words as she greets the old lady. “How can I help you?”
Her unexpected visitor is likely in her early sixties—with her silver hair neatly gathered in a small chignon and her thick glasses perched on top of her snub nose. She’s wearing a silk scarf over a black ensemble of blouse and pencil skirt, and a scowl seems to be permanently etched on her face.
“I am Greta. I live in Room 508,” the woman introduces herself. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, miss. But you’re either out for an errand or locked up inside.”
Se Ri stares at the lady dumbfounded for a few seconds, then comes to her senses after the latter clears her throat.
“My name is Se Ri,” she blurts out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, madam.”
“Likewise,” Greta says in a monotone that matches her aloof expression. “Now, going back to the purpose of my visit…”
Greta shows that she’s bearing a small box in her hands, then tells Se Ri, “I received this package from Russia last week, together with a note stating a kind request that I give it to you on his behalf.”
“On behalf of whom?”
“Of Mr. Jeong Hyeok Lee, the pianist who used to live in the unit next to yours.”
“Oh,” Se Ri gasps.
It’s odd how after all this time, the mention of his name still spurs a rush of blood that sets her cheeks on fire.
Greta catches this, of course; Se Ri saw a flicker of mirth burn in her knowing eyes. But for some reason, the elder woman chose to keep mum about it.
Instead, she gently hands the box over to a still-stunned Se Ri, then leaves with a curt goodbye.
The first thing Se Ri sees when she opens the box is a small card with a width of 3 inches on all sides. She picks it up and flips it over. And at the center of it, she finds a short note written in a neat penmanship she quickly recognizes to be his.
Because I had to try to talk you out of something for once.
She notices that a lone CD is the content of the package, kept in a slimline jewel case which is nestled in shredded paper. It’s his music, she thinks, and it’s the most beautiful parting gift he could ever give her. Even so, a huge part of her is afraid to listen to it because she might break down the instant she hears the first notes.
When—truth be told—she’s already tired of crying her heart out for him every waking day of whatever is left in her life.
Regardless, Se Ri changes her mind before sunset.
The piano fades in as soon as the disc plays, ushering an introduction that is reminiscent of her paramour’s delicate whisper in the morning. A string of dulcet notes follows, and it builds a flowing rhythm that somehow makes her stomach flutter in the most pleasant way.
Nonetheless, the giddy ascent is transient. The movement gradually shifts into something somber—a pensive melody that stirs the profound emptiness she always tempered. Her chest tightens like it does each time the emotion resurfaces, though the suffocating ache is surprisingly more bearable now than ever. She surmises that there’s something about the song that turns the crippling pain into a sad reverie—and it doesn’t take a genius to find out what it is.
It’s the fact that it’s all Jeong Hyeok; he is speaking to her through his music. He has put every emotion, every worry… every sincere promise and fervent prayer in each note. He is once more reassuring her of his feelings, and he encapsulated that vow into this poignant piece of music in case the words he said that night failed to make her understand his sincerity.
You’re not unwanted, Yoon Se Ri. You are special; you are loved, he told her once. Even when no one does, remember that I will always love you.
And as the song moves to its second part, she realizes that there’s a lot more he wished to say to her.
Yoon Se Ri, are you having trouble sleeping again? she imagines him asking her.
No, jagiya. Please don’t take those pills.
Why don’t you listen to this piece instead?
The melody slowly regains its subtle vibrance. And this time, there is an unadulterated optimism in every beat.
Se Ri-ah, I can only hope that this is the consolation you were looking for. And if after hearing this, you find the will to live again, then you must know that such great news likewise brings comfort to the bleak days ahead of me.
In a way, I feel like I want to keep on living too.
So how about we go on with our lives as if we’ll be meeting each other tomorrow?
Make sure that you don’t skip your meals, Se Ri-ah. And always get a good night’s sleep. Promise me that you’ll live well.
Inevitably, the coda begins. The notes grow softer and softer, as though his confessions are diminishing into quiet murmurs that would lull her to sleep.
And if one morning, you wake up and realize that the loneliness in your heart is gone—together with those bittersweet memories of me…
Know that I will be alright.
Se Ri already lost track of time. She has no idea how long the song has been playing on a loop, or how many minutes have passed since she started crying.
By then, the sun is setting, though she remains seated on the couch in front of the French windows. She is still hugging her knees with her chin perched on top of her forearms. Her eyes feel exhausted as they vaguely stare at the flaming horizon before her.
She looks back on that whirlwind weekend with Jeong Hyeok, which seems like a sweet dream in retrospect. The happiness she felt all throughout that trance is unbelievably real—it’s more genuine than all the blissful moments in her life combined. And at the end of it, one thing rings true in her mind.
That even if she turned back the clock, she would still choose to meet him.
That even if she lived a hundred different lifetimes, she would still choose to run away with him.
That even if their story is fated to always end with a tearful farewell, she would still choose to fall in love with him.
Without conditions. Without doubt. And without being certain that she would get to see him again.
Over and over, she will choose him—now, in the next six months, and for all of her days.
Always.
An hour after dusk has fallen, Se Ri gathers strength to stand up on her feet and cross the short distance leading to the balcony for the first time in a long while. She moves forward, walking with a gait that becomes more resolute with each measured step, until she feels the chilly breeze of February gingerly kissing her skin.
Above her, the inky, velvet sky is adorned with countless twinkling stars whose collective brilliance in no way pales by comparison with the night lights of Zürich. The sound of the usual 7:00 p.m. traffic is buzzing in the background. And somewhere—two to three blocks away, she guesses—a jazz band plays a sad song.
Nothing has changed. She’s alone—as she always has been ever since that fateful fall afternoon—and the apartment beside hers is still missing its former tenant.
But as Se Ri leans on the balustrade that evening, by some bizarre happenstance, she finally finds it easier to breathe.
•••
A/N: Thank you so much for reading Carpe Noctem, and for the patience to look out for updates here on Wattpad, on AO3, and on Twitter. I am such a mercurial writer (I think that you guys know that by now.) who comes up with something every once in a while. But I am grateful that there are still people who read the stories I try to tell, and for their insightful thoughts on love and life. Until now, I can’t believe how I am able to reach some of you and tug at your hearts.
Thanks again for your support. Stay safe, and I hope that we always choose to be kind.
On to the next!