? ???????? ???? ? phi hanwool

Epilogue : Years Later

The world had changed, as it always did with time, but some wounds never healed. They simply scarred over, a jagged mark of the past that never quite faded. Time could blur the edges of pain, but it couldn’t erase it.

Hanwool still hadn’t moved on.

The morning was cold, the early spring air sharp with the promise of change. The sky above was a muted gray, clouds heavy and pregnant with the possibility of rain. The trees on the side of the road were just beginning to bud, their branches reaching toward the sky in quiet defiance of the harsh winter that had passed. But the world, despite its beauty, felt muted today—quiet and unyielding.

Sohye sat in the front seat of the car, her eyes staring out of the window, her fingers tracing the edge of her wedding band. Beside her, Geon-yeop’s hand rested on her knee, his thumb gently rubbing small circles, offering silent comfort. The two of them had built a life together since that tragic day—their love had bloomed in ways they never could have imagined. They had married two years ago, a small ceremony in a quiet garden, surrounded by only a few close friends and family. It hadn’t been the fairy tale they’d dreamed of, but it had been enough. It had to be enough.

But even in their happiness, the absence of Rin was never far from their minds.

Sohye could still feel the ache in her chest when she thought of her best friend. The girl who had been like a sister, who had brought light into her life and into Hanwool’s. Rin’s laugh, her bright eyes, her fiery spirit—Sohye missed it all. And though life had moved on, Sohye had never quite learned how to let go of her.

But today, it wasn’t about them. It was about Hanwool.

Hanwool had barely spoken since the wedding, since they’d all tried, and failed, to return to some semblance of normal. He had become a shadow of himself, a man trapped in a past that refused to loosen its grip on him. Sohye had tried to reach out to him, tried to help him move forward, but he had always been so closed off. So distant.

And today—today was no different.

They pulled up to the familiar cemetery, the same one where Rin’s stone had been placed years ago, a small, unassuming stone that was etched with only her name and a simple inscription. Rin, beloved daughter, friend, and love. You are forever missed.

Hanwool was already there, standing at the foot of her grave, his back to them. His shoulders were hunched, his head down, but Sohye knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t just mourning—he was still living in the pain, still trapped in the moment it all ended. He hadn’t moved on. Not a single step.

The car doors opened quietly, and Geon-yeop helped Sohye out of the car, his hand brushing against her lower back, offering a soft, reassuring touch. They approached Hanwool slowly, as if approaching something fragile, something that could shatter at the slightest touch.

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of the earth and the faint smell of rain. Hanwool didn’t turn to face them as they walked up behind him. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his face unreadable, though his eyes were fixed on the stone, unblinking.

“Hanwool,” Sohye whispered, her voice soft, breaking the silence that had settled between them. “We’re here. We came for her. For Rin.”

Hanwool didn’t respond. He didn’t even flinch. The only sound was the wind, and the soft rustling of the trees around them.

Geon-yeop exchanged a look with Sohye. He, too, had been trying to pull Hanwool back from the abyss of grief that had swallowed him whole. But there was no pulling someone back when they didn’t want to return. Not when the past held them so tightly, like an anchor sinking them deeper and deeper into the sea.

Sohye stepped forward, her hands trembling as she placed a small bouquet of white lilies—Rin’s favorite flowers—on the grave. She lowered her head for a moment, her lips moving in silent prayer, before she straightened and turned back to Hanwool.

“Hanwool,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep punishing yourself.”

He still didn’t respond. His gaze remained locked on Rin’s grave, his eyes hollow, a reflection of all the pain he had carried with him for years.

Geon-yeop placed a hand on Hanwool’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. "We know it’s hard," he murmured, his voice quiet. "But she wouldn’t want you to live like this. She wouldn’t want you to stay stuck in the past forever."

Hanwool’s breath hitched, his fists tightening even further, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm. He took a slow, shaky breath, but his voice, when it came, was raw, strained.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. "I’m sorry, Rin… I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t save you."

Sohye’s heart broke as she watched him. She could feel the weight of his guilt pressing down on him, a weight that no one could ever take from him. Not even her. Not even Geon-yeop.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sohye said quietly, stepping closer to him. She reached out, her hand resting gently on his arm. “You didn’t kill her, Hanwool. Our father did. Yeonbaek did this to her. Not you.”

“I should’ve stopped him,” Hanwool muttered through gritted teeth. “I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve—”

“No,” Geon-yeop interrupted firmly, his voice stronger now, pulling Hanwool’s attention. “You couldn’t have known. We didn’t know. You weren’t the one who pulled the trigger, Hanwool. He was. And now he’s in prison for the rest of his life. He’ll never hurt anyone again.”

But Hanwool wasn’t listening. He wasn’t hearing them. The world had become too much of a blur for him. All that mattered was Rin—her memory, her absence, and the endless ache of not being able to protect her when it mattered most.

Geon-yeop stepped back, and Sohye followed, her hand slipping away from Hanwool’s arm. The wind seemed to pick up, carrying a soft, distant cry—a sound that seemed to echo through the trees.

Hanwool stayed there, his back to them, his eyes still on Rin’s grave. And as the rain began to fall, gentle at first, then harder with each passing second, they turned and left him there, standing alone in the place where the past would never let him go.

Sohye squeezed Geon-yeop’s hand, a silent understanding passing between them. They couldn’t fix this. They couldn’t fix Hanwool.

All they could do was love him, and hope that, in time, he would find a way to let go.

---

As they drove away, the rain falling harder now, Sohye wiped her eyes, trying to hold herself together. "He’s lost, Geon-yeop," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I don’t know how to help him anymore."

Geon-yeop didn’t answer immediately. He simply reached over and held her hand tightly, his thumb tracing the edge of her knuckles.

"Sometimes, love isn’t enough," he said quietly. "But we still have to keep going, don’t we?"

Sohye nodded, but as she looked out at the rain, she couldn’t help but wonder if Hanwool would ever truly come back to them—or if the weight of his grief would drag him further away.

And, as the car continued down the road, the storm still pouring around them, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the three of them—once so whole—might never be the same again.

( mah girl Rin joining Minji and Aeri in the dying club )