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“Do you ever feel guilty about what happened?”
Silence. A single pin drop would echo through the room. Da-jeong fiddled her gloves, pulling them up her arms. Rage, anxiety, and worst of all, guilt, seethed angrily in her stomach. Bile rushed up her throat, but she swallowed it back down.
No. No, she wouldn’t let her ruin her day today! Not today.
Face contorting in resentment, she cried, “You said you weren’t here for that!” But she knew, didn’t she? What else would Bok-su would be here for? To congratulate her? Hah…
“I fucking knew you were lying—“
She didn’t get to finish. Bok-su leaned closer, her breath in her face, face eerily calm. “How many patients have you lost since then?” None—!
They terminated Bok-su. Just like that. For a mistake that she had made. Da-jeong didn’t see her again, but she never forgot the look on her face that day. She didn’t forget her slight furrowed brow before she realized what happened. She didn’t forget the betrayal in her wide eyes. She didn’t forget her hands fisted against her termination letter, utterly incapacitated.
She didn’t forget. And now Bok-su was her to remind her.
On her fucking wedding day.
“It’s always unfortunate, you can’t save everyone.” She flinched.
When she told her, shaking and stumbling in her panic, Bok-su rushed to her immediately. She pressed a damp cloth over the bleeding wound, without a hint of schadenfreude.
She lost a friend who was willing to hide a body for her.
But Da-jeong couldn’t be terminated. She couldn’t be ruined.
“How many times have you diagnosed someone wrong?” Bok-su’s eyes gleamed with malice. With utter hate and disgust. Indignation emanated from every inch of her being: resentful, angry and embittered.
“How many times has your hand been too clumsy for your own good?”
The conversation steered in the opposite direction than Da-jeong had hoped for. She looked back to the bedroom door, an escape, tempting. Yet again.
She’s compelled to justify herself, but she doesn’t know why. She wants to refute her claims, to call her a liar, to throw her out of her wedding and never see her face again. But the moment her eyes meet hers, her words die in her throat, choking her.
“I—I’ve been doing good, I swear!”
Is she reassuring her or herself?
Bok-su’s eyes don’t leave their murderous gleam. A sardonic smirk pulls across her features.
“Do you ever wonder? If I’d been the one still practicing, if I’d been in your place, they’d still be alive?”
“…”
She doesn’t answer. Because what could she possibly say to that? Bok-su doesn’t seem to require an answer, though. The silence in the room rung with the finality that could only come when a conversation was over.
Get over it. There’s nothing I can do about it now.
She gulps. Her eyes drifting to the floor. What does she want her to do? Leave everything and run a parade in her name? Preach to the world to exculpate her, while tarnishing her own career, life, reputation—all in good faith?
It’s her wedding. Why now? Is this her revenge? To torture her on the one day she’d look back to all her life? Today was supposed to be about her, her and Myeong-hoon. And Bok-su just had to ruin that. Pulling all the attention to herself by barging into her wedding unannounced. Even if she got an invite couldn’t she take a bloody hint and not come? Isn’t it obvious how much Da-jeong did not want to see her?
And over what? Because she couldn’t see face her own mistakes? Because every time she looked at her she felt cold, hard fear? That one day Bok-su would tell someone, that one day she would find some evidence to incriminate her, that one day she’d tell her just how much she hates her guts.
“…”
No, it’s always been about this, hasn’t it? Fear. Da-jeong was afraid, as she so always has been. She was terrified, at her own mistakes—mistakes that ruined lives—and so the only thing she could do was to run. She hid behind blankets of lies, smothering others in her path. She was clumsy and stupid, and trampled over another person's life just to avoid accountability.
She can’t. She still can’t. Just the thought of anyone finding out terrifies her.
Bok-su leans back, a hand covering half her face. She knew. She knew exactly the kind of person Da-jeong was. And she smirked her cowering.
Da-jeong couldn’t hide from her. Even if she wanted. Even if she tried. Because the face of all her mistakes would always shape themselves into her, and she would return, time and time again, to remind her of every single life she’s taken.
Bok-su chuckles. A dry, scornful laugh.
“Still not a single apology.”
…
Is this who you really are, Da-jeong?
Even if she kicks her out today, she would only return. Like a vengeful spirit, she’ll haunt her, whether in person or in thought.
Just…appease her. You don’t have to mean a single word of it. End this. This…This cycle of hate and guilt and resent…
“No—No, You’re—“ Right.
“I—I should—“
“Save it.”
Da-jeong takes a sharp inhale, the air feeling like spikes down her chest.
“No.” She looks up, perhaps for the first time, looking Bok-su straight in the eye. “No, I don’t think I will.”
Even though her words fell in a fit of pique, they tasted like bitter sincerity.
“I can’t go one day without thinking about all that bullshit. And—“ She raises her voice after seeing Bok-su open her mouth to reply. “—I know! I know you’re the one who’s suffering because of—I know okay!? You don’t have to stand here and demean me—that too on my wedding day—because I already tell myself the same things every day!”
Bok-su blinks, resent blurring into confusing in her dark eyes. She continues, “I know what I took from you. I’ve known for a long time, but I—I didn’t know how to fix it. I still don’t. I’m not asking for forgiveness, alright? I’m not that delusional. I just…” want you to leave me alone.
“I don’t know why you’re here. What do you want me to do? Now? I can’t go back in time and—”
Still not a single apology.
But she can’t say it, can she? What’s the point now, anyway? Sorry. The word tasted like spoilt milk on her tongue. Like an arrogant, conceited cynic who tries to mend broken bones with a half-assed apology.
She can’t. Because she doesn’t deserve to be in a position to apologize. There is absolutely nothing she can do now to mend this bridge.
And Bok-su knew this too. Because all throughout her speech, her face doesn’t change one bit. Her hand still covers half her face as she looks at Da-jeong from the corner of her eye. Apathetic.
“Do you think this will change anything?”
The jagged edges of her words caught on the abrasions of a pre-existing wound, aggravating it with silent anger.
“Nothing can change. Why are you here?” She paused. “To ruin my life in return?”
Bok-su doesn’t reply.
“Is that what this is? What are you going to do? Wreck everything I have just to get your sweet revenge?”
Da-jeong takes a step closer to her. “Do you even know how revenge tastes? It will burn you, and leave you with an empty heart. Making me suffer will not undo your suffering.”
“But it will make you realise what it is like to suffer in the first place.”
Bok-su spoke in a low undertone voice. Da-jeong freezes, goosebumps spreading up her spine. Bok-su looked at her with a different look now: one that was dejected, resigned, and forsaken. Against her better judgement, Da-jeong grabs her shoulders, making sure that she listens to her carefully.
“You think I don’t? I—“
“Don’t give me that bullshit.”
“No, you don’t give me that bullshit! You want it to be this way?! Just a series of revenge and plotting each other’s downfalls—“
“I’ll have my fill after yours.”
"..."
“So that’s it, huh? That’s why you’re here. To ruin me.”
“Wow, I could have never guessed.” Bok-su looks to the side. Desperate, Da-jeong stutters:
“Bok-su—Listen! I— I can’t today. Please—“
“Mmm…”
“…You don’t even get it, do you? Of course, you don’t.” Her chest heaves with each breath. “You have no idea what it is like to have anyone love you in the first place.”
Bok-su’s eyes snap up. She smiles, rotten, her bottom lip curling in contempt.
“Ah, love.” Apathy clouds over her emotions. Her hand covers her lips, eyes hidden behind a sheet of indifference. “Say, Myeong-hoon loves you very much, right?”
Da-jeong lets go of her shoulders, as though burned. Stepping back, she hesitantly asks, “What did you do?”
Da-jeong looks at the woman in front of her. In a black suit, when she was once wearing a long coat, bare hands, where she once wore red gloves. She looks at her eyes, her slight smirk, as if they never had this conversation, as if this was something she had planned from the start.
“Doesn’t he? Put your hand in my pocket.”
“What does your pocket have anything to do with Myeong-hoon—“ She freezes, hand halfway towards her pocket. Bok-su looks at her with her head tilted to the side, hand covering her smirk, holding herself nonchalantly. Way too nonchalantly.
“He left a little something for you there.”
It was a bait. She knew that. But she still couldn’t help herself as her hand reached towards her pocket.
Why can’t she hand it to me herself?
She retracts her hand, annoyance etched across her furrowed brow. “Why can’t you hand it to me yourself?”
“Don’t feel like it.”
“…”
Bok-su smiles at her. “Would be a shame if you missed it. He went through so much trouble preparing it, after all.”
Preparing it? What did she make her Myeong-hoon do? Why would Myeong-hoon give it to her out of all people?—
“I remembered how you mentioned your old university friend before, so I thought it’d be a nice surprise—“
Ugh! He had no idea!
Da-jeong bit her lip, anxiously looking around the room. Agitated, she relented, shoving her hand into Bok-su’s blazer pocket. Her fingers wrap around something thin and metallic; grabbing the handle, she pulls it out to see—
With a sharp yelp, she jumps back, almost dropping it in the process. In her hand, she held a cake knife, blood streaked across its surface. Suddenly, she notices the sharp stench of metal.
“T—This is—“
A scalpel in her gloved hands, caked in blood, reflecting her masked face, wide eyes. Her hand shook with terror as she frantically looked around the room. The electrocardiogram rings as the patient’s heart rate slows down, waves falling lower and lower until it finally sinks into a flat line.
Bok-su rushing to her aid, putting pressure onto the wound, trying to stop the blood from gushing out the patient’s neck. Da-jeong was scared, so scared. The doors opened at the wrong time, her seniors entered to witness the worst possible situation. At that moment, when she saw Bok-su with the patient’s blood staining her arms, her finger unthinkingly raised to point at her.
Blood, half-dried, obscured her reflection on the cake knife.
“You—You didn’t—“
Her other hand presses against her chest, her breaths quickening. She could never operate under pressure. A horrible trait for a doctor to have.
“I didn’t, you did.” Bok-su replies, looking almost bored. Da-jeong tears her gaze from the knife to her.
“What…?”
“This was your weapon.”
Her heart freezes, blood turns to ice.
“Is that what you’re going to tell…?”
Bok-su doesn’t reply.
“You’re insane… Why would I?!”
Bok-su would ruin her. She knew that, but she never imagined how far she would go.
Resentment flowed thick through her bones. Hands shaking, she tried to warp her brain around this entire situation. Blood… Myeong-hoon’s? He was standing right beside her this morning, smiling as he greeted the guests. She remembered last night, with her in his arms as he rubbed comforting circles on her back.
He…was gone?
And there she was, standing in front of her, fucking smiling. Does she think this is a joke? The one day that would mark a shift in her life, the one day that would change everything. And Bok-su…?
How could anyone be so cruel?
Bottom lip quivering, she spat, “It’s our wedding day!”
“How should I know, I’m simply a witness.” She replied, referring back to her earlier question. Da-jeong searched her eyes. Nonchalant, amused, but not a single fucking hint of remorse. Bok-su smiled back at her.
The world tilted on its axis. She stumbled, leaning against the cupboard door for support.
“You’ve gone mad!—“
“Who knows, maybe you caught him loving someone more than you.”
Loving…Bok-su…?
“What??”
“Because your fragile heart couldn’t take it, you needed to spare yourself a heartbreak—”
Her words barely registered to Da-jeong— they slid off each other without meaning. Her mind felt full, the blood rushing through her ears drowning her thoughts. It was too much, too sudden—
“Stop it, stop talking!”
But Bok-su didn’t stop, her words a low rumble in the silent room. Da-jeong pushed a hand against her chest, trying to calm her rapid heart. A sharp string of pain bloomed between her ribs. She pushed the tips of her fingers against it to smother the ache.
Bok-su continued with her accusations, her face darkening with each statement. Each feeling colder than the last, spikier, with each word she hurled her way.
“Because you would do anything to save yourself.”
…
Her words gut through her, the ringing in her ears growing louder. Suddenly, red, hot denial floods over her senses. Her body shook with the utter audacity to even accuse her of something so…so—
“I wouldn’t do that! I would never—!” Her face twisted in indignation, “NEVER KILL SOMEONE OVER SOMETHING AS PETTY AS THAT!” Her voice boomed across the room, yet it had almost no effect on the woman in front of her. If nothing, her expression seemed to darken even more.
Arms by her side, Bok-su leaned in, a murderous glare in her eyes. “And I would never kill a patient.”
This was it, huh? She was willing to ruin her life over something that happened decades ago. She was willing to kill just to get her revenge. Red, hot fury sizzled through her veins, and soon she was not capable of a single coherent thought.
“…! Y—You..!” She screamed. The room screamed back at her. Her hands shook, still holding the bloodstained knife. That knife—the colour of roses—Myeong-hoon kneeling on one knee, a ring in his hand, a bouquet of roses in the other. He held roses as red as his blood. Da-jeong gasped for air, her hand tightening around the bleeding metal knife. The air grew thicker and thicker till it completely doused her. Her ears rang, so loud that she couldn’t tell if Bok-su was talking still.
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!!—“ She snapped her gaze to Bok-su, rage fuming out her skin. She—she did this. If only she wasn’t here, if only her fiancé wasn’t so dead-set on surprising her, if only she was gone.
“I’LL KILL YOU!!!”
She screams and Bok-su stumbles back, eyes wide. A hand wrapped tightly around the knife, she lunches at her, grabbing Bok-su’s shoulder and throwing her against the cupboard door. Effectively pinning her in place, Da-jeong’s other hand—
Bok-su’s arm folds behind her, reaching for the pearl necklace.
—plunges the knife straight through her abdomen.
“Hhah… Ah..!”
Gasping, Bok-su falls heavy on top of her. The ringing in her ears stops, the room silent aside from Bok-su’s pained moans.
“B…Bok-su…?”
The moments register late to her. She suddenly grows aware of the knife she still clutched in her hand. Fear clogging rational thought, she pulls it out, stepping away. Bok-su’s body crumples to the floor.
“BOK-SU!!!”