The Night Everything Stopped
Song Haein's apartment was humbler than I'd imagined.
Not the glittering penthouse of a top star, but a cozy space that smelled like a home where people actually lived. Beneath soft, ambient lighting, the dishes she had cooked with her own hands were steaming gently on the table.
"So? I'm not sure if the seasoning's right. I'm not much of a cook."
Haein, still wearing her apron, looked at me with worried eyes.
Sirloin steak, pasta, and a salad. The vegetables she'd chopped with clumsy hands somehow made them all the more endearing.
"It's delicious. Really. It tastes even better because you made it, sunbae."
"Che. Nothing but a smooth tongue."
She smiled, a little embarrassed, and lifted her glass of wine. With a clear *clink*, the red liquid swayed inside.
The mood had ripened. Outside the window, the night lights of Seoul glittered like scattered stars, and before me sat the most luminous woman in all of Korea. Her cheeks were flushed—whether from the wine or the glow of the lights, I couldn't tell.
Is it now?
My heart was pounding as if it would burst. The words I hadn't managed to say on our last trip. A confession that I didn't want this to be some fling—I wanted us to be real. I set down my glass and wet my lips.
"Sunbae."
"Mm?"
"There's something I need to tell you..."
She seemed to have sensed it too. She put down her chopsticks and looked straight at me, her deep, tranquil eyes finding my lips. The tension was so thick that even the air seemed to stop. I drew a deep breath.
Bzzzz—
And then, at that exact moment, the phone lying on the table erupted into violent vibration.
A sharp noise slicing through the silence. The atmosphere shattered into pieces.
"Ah... I'm sorry."
I hastily reached for the decline button—and froze. The name glowing on the screen was:
It wasn't like him to call at this hour. My father, the taciturn Chungcheong-do gentleman, would barely manage a call or two a year unless there was a reason. And it was already past nine at night.
A sense of dread crawled up my spine.
"Take it. It might be urgent."
Haein gestured toward the phone. I mouthed an apology and pressed accept.
"Hello, Father. What's wrong? Calling so late..."
"......."
Silence flowed through the receiver. No—it wasn't silence. It was ragged, irregular breathing. A faintly trembling exhale.
"Dongsoo..."
It wasn't my father's voice. The firm, gruff tone I knew was nowhere to be found—what came through instead was a brittle scrap of metal that might shatter at any moment.
"Yes, it's me. Father, why does your voice sound like that? What's happened?"
"Dongsoo... your mom..."
My heart plunged.
"What about Mom? Is she sick somewhere?"
"She collapsed... She was doing the dishes after dinner when suddenly... She's in the emergency room now."
For an instant, my mind went white. Even Haein's worried face sitting right in front of me blurred at the edges of my vision.
"What...? She collapsed? Is she conscious? What hospital are you at right now?"
"Jincheon Sungshin Hospital. The doctor... says it looks like a brain hemorrhage... Come quickly. Your mom... she keeps calling for you..."
The last words dissolved, and finally my father's sobs broke through. It was the first time in my life I had ever heard the man cry.
"I'll leave right now. I'll be there soon. Father, don't worry. She'll be okay."
My hand trembled violently as I ended the call. There was no calming down at all.
Haein was already on her feet, gathering my coat. Without needing to ask, she seemed to have grasped the whole situation.
"It's your mother, isn't it?"
"Noona... I'm sorry. Tonight, of all nights..."
"Sorry for what? Let's go. I'll drive you."
"No, really. I can just take a taxi. I'll catch the KTX from Seoul Station—that's the fastest way."
I fumbled frantically with my shoes. She followed me to the door and pulled me into a firm embrace.
"You can't go like this. I'm driving you. Come on."
"......."
She took my hand and led me out.
"Your mother is going to be fine. Don't let yourself think the worst."
I only nodded and ran for the elevator without looking back. In the underground parking garage, she stomped on the accelerator.
Vroom—
Perhaps sensing what was in my heart, she seemed more urgent than I'd ever seen her. I sank deep into my seat and clasped my trembling hands together.
A brain hemorrhage...
Even without any medical knowledge, I understood the weight of that word. A race against time. The golden hour. Please let us not be too late. Please.
I caught sight of my own reflection in the window. The stylish outfit courtesy of my Fashion King ability, the healthy glow from Muscle Pump. The picture of a successful office worker, a promotions manager on the rise.
But inside that shell was a terrified little boy.
Memories I had long buried began to surface, one by one.
[Dongsoo, are you eating properly?]
That was always the first thing out of her mouth whenever she called. And I would answer like it was a chore.
[Ugh, I told you I ate. Mom, it's always about the food with you.]
The days after I stamped the divorce papers and lived like a wreck. I couldn't bring myself to tell my parents, so I was gnawing on it alone when Mom somehow knew—like she had a sixth sense—and came up to Seoul, carrying a bundle of side-dish containers that had long gone cold.
[Don't say a word. Just eat a meal with me.]
She never asked. Why I got divorced, whose fault it was—she didn't even badmouth her daughter-in-law. She simply cooked a pot of soybean paste stew in silence and laid a spoon over a fresh pot of steaming rice.
And when I sobbed my heart out over that meal, she just quietly patted my back. Those rough, calloused hands—knuckles swollen from a lifetime of farm work and housework. I could still feel their warmth against my back even now.
The care I'd always taken for granted.
Damn it...
My eyes burned hot. Recently, having made a bit of money, I'd been acting like I was some model son. When I transferred fifty million won to them, I'd felt so proud watching my parents gape in astonishment.
[Our boy made it. Mom can die now with no regrets.]
What had I said when I heard that?
[Come on, don't jinx it. I'm going to earn even more and give you the good life.]
Money. Yes, I'd given them money.
But time? Had I ever given my parents my time?
Too busy on weekdays, too tired on weekends. I'd always had an excuse for why I couldn't find time to visit Mom. I hadn't even made a single call after the last shoot, too caught up in my trip with Haein.
[Dongsoo! I just saw you on TV! That was you, right?!]
That giddy voice from just days ago, ringing in my ears—the voice that laughed about hanging a banner up around the neighborhood to brag about her son. The thought that it might have been our last conversation tore at my chest.
What good were any of these abilities?
I'd exposed a branch manager's corruption, sparked something with a top star, had billions sitting in my bank account—and yet I had no power to ease my mother's pain, not for a single second.
Healing? Time travel?
I had none of that. I was just a lucky office worker. Not a god.
"Please..."
I pressed my forehead against the window and prayed. I didn't even know to whom—to the System that had granted me these abilities, or to the God my mother knelt before every dawn.
"Just give me one chance. There's still so much I haven't been able to do for her..."
The scenery outside blurred and warped through my tears. The most precious thing in my life—the one I'd forgotten while drunk on the sweet dream called success—was collapsing before my eyes.
Jincheon Sungshin Hospital.
The moment I arrived, I ran straight into the emergency room, but I couldn't find my mother's name anywhere. A nurse at the information desk spoke in a hurried voice.
"Patient Lee Soon-ja was moved to the intensive care unit a little while ago. Third floor."
There was no time to wait for the elevator. I took the emergency stairs two and three steps at a time. My lungs burned all the way up my throat, but that was nothing compared to the crushing dread that felt like it would tear my heart apart.
Third floor. The waiting room outside the ICU.
My father was there. A man hardened into steel by a lifetime of farming and backbreaking labor. My father, who had never once been the type to show his feelings, sat hunched small in a plastic chair.
"Father!"
At my call, he slowly raised his head. His eyes were raw and swollen red from how long he'd been crying. His unfocused gaze found me, his lips quivered, and a cracked voice finally spilled out.
"...You came?"
The despair packed into those two words hollowed out my chest. I couldn't even answer—I just bit my lip.
Then I sprinted to the nurses' station and hunted down the attending physician.
"I'm here for Lee Soon-ja's family. How is she? What about surgery? Shouldn't she be moved to Seoul?"
The questions poured out in my desperation. The doctor, reviewing her chart, pushed up his glasses and looked at me. His expression was so matter-of-fact that it somehow felt all the more devastating.
"Please calm down. It's a subarachnoid hemorrhage caused by a ruptured cerebral aneurysm."
"Then... surgery will fix it, right? I have more than enough money—give her the very best of..."
The doctor shook his head.
And delivered a cruel verdict.