Page 7 of Scarbound

His grip tightened around the phone. Without another glance, he deleted the message, then emptied the whiskey glass in a single swallow. Tears blurred the city lights. He opened his nightstand drawer and pulled out the note. The paper trembled in his hands, creased and worn from years of rereading.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow he would go to the cemetery. Tomorrow he would stand in front of the stone and speak to something silent, something gone, something that still ruled his life.

Tomorrow, he would be composed again.

CHAPTER 3

October 24 — The Following Morning

Haneul’s grave stood exactly where it always had.

The handcrafted angel statue bore his brother’s name and dates, its surface catching the light in a way that made Chung-Hee stop. He knelt and placed the lilies carefully at its base.

A tear slipped free.

“Haneul,” he said softly, voice unsteady. “Another year without you.”

The silence pressed in.

“The world keeps moving. But part of me is still here, with you.” He swallowed. “NovaTech is growing. We’re close to something unprecedented. I wish you were here to see it. Maybe you are. Maybe you’re the reason I keep going.”

A breath.

“I haven’t visited in a month. Forgive me. Mom is well, she’ll come this afternoon. I haven’t heard from Dad. His wife had a daughter. Catie.” A faint smile cracked through. “She reminds me of you. God, I’ll have to scare off her future suitors.”

The smile faded. “Why did you do it, brother?” His voice trembled. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or Mom? How badly did that man hurt you before you gave up?”

He clenched his fists.

He stayed kneeling long after the words ran out… until the distant sound of a car engine broke the stillness.

The visitor had arrived.

Last year, Chung-Hee had come late, after a meeting he couldn’t cancel, and found offerings already placed at Haneul’s grave: money, flowers, food. Everything his brother loved. A warm Americano from Maestro’s. Pepero. Yakgwa.

It hadn’t been a mistake.

Only someone who truly knew Haneul would have known.

His thoughts had gone immediately to Noeul.

And if it was him, after everything his family had done, after he had the audacity to send a message last night, Chung-Hee had sworn he would kill him.

He moved quickly, retreating several meters away. Close enough to hear, but far enough to remain unseen.

A tall figure approached with his hands full.

Chung-Hee waited. At first, he couldn’t make out what the visitor was saying. Only the second sentence reached him.

“I don’t deserve to stand here, Haneul,” the young man whispered.

Chung-Hee’s breath caught.

The man knelt, tracing the carved name with trembling fingers.

Then he reached into his pocket.