Chapter 37
The morning of the following day hit harder than any hangover ever could. Haru woke up sprawled across his bed, staring at the ceiling as the reality of the date settled into his bones like a chill.
In his world, today would have been the birthday of Sunghoon. That day however, the calendar simply ticked over, indifferent to the man who was celebrating a birth of someone who everyone assumed was dead. It felt as if a brick had been thrown at him, the weight of his dual existence suddenly too heavy to carry.
The one thing he missed wasn't the fame or the accolades. It was the one thing this era couldn't provide: his family.
He let out a long, ragged sigh. Usually, on this morning, he would wake to the briny, comforting scent of his mother's seaweed soup. He would kiss her forehead, endure her fussing, and sit down to a meal that tasted like home. Now, as he walked into the sterile kitchen and poured himself a bowl of dry cereal, he felt hollow. The crunch of the flakes sounded like breaking glass in the silence. He wanted to lock the door and hide away, to let the day pass over him like a shadow.
After a lackluster breakfast, he retreated to his "nest." He spent hours scouring the internet for any scrap of information on Mae-rin's private life, just as he had done dozens of times before. She remained an enigma, a woman who guarded her domestic world with a fierce, professional shield. He wondered how they were handling today - the anniversary of a son and a brother who had died more than twenty years ago.
I hope they've moved on, he thought, his chest tightening. To mourn someone for decades was an exhausting, soul-eroding labor. He hoped they didn't believe the scandals that had chased his name into the grave. He hoped they remembered him as he was, not as the world said he had been.
Around noon, Se-hee poked her head into his room, her expression soft with concern. She asked if he wanted to eat, but he declined, his stomach knotting at the thought of food. She hesitated, lingering at the door, but eventually let it go. He spent the rest of the daylight lost in a fog of memory until nightfall finally drove him out of the house.
He walked down the small hill near their apartment, breathing in the biting night air. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back toward the vast, indifferent sky. He hadn't felt this level of isolation since his first day in this body. He wondered why the universe had dragged him back. He wasn't a saint, but he wasn't a monster either; he was just a man who had wanted to finish his story.
His phone buzzed - Se-hee again. He knew he couldn't keep her worried forever. He turned to head back, but stopped short.
In the shadows of a streetlamp, a man stood watching him. He wore threadbare, poor-quality clothes, and his shoes were worn down to the soles. His hands were shaking visibly as he glanced nervously around.
Haru felt a cold prickle of unease. He had sensed someone behind him earlier, but he'd dismissed it as paranoia. Now, the man was clearly focused on him. Just as Haru opened his mouth to confront him, the figure bolted, disappearing into the darkness of an alley with a frantic, limping gait.
Haru stared at the empty space in confusion. The man looked to be in his fifties - distressed, desperate. He shook his head, trying to clear the image. You're being obnoxious, Sunghoon, he scolded himself. Not everyone is a stalker. He was probably just a local in need.
He returned home and ate dinner to quell Se-hee's worry, claiming he was just nervous about filming starting in two days. She didn't look entirely convinced, but she let him be.
The following morning was a jarring contrast.
He woke to the authentic, savory aroma of seaweed soup. Se-hee was in the kitchen, humming happily as she prepared a spread of traditional dishes. She sat him down with a flourish, placing a steaming bowl in front of him.
"Happy Birthday, Haru!" she chirped.
It was exactly what he had craved the day before, yet he felt like an imposter. Today was officially Haru's birthday - the day the world expected him to celebrate a life he had only just inherited. The duality was suffocating; he was eating Sunghoon's comfort food for Haru's celebration.
"Get ready," Se-hee commanded after breakfast. "I'm taking you somewhere."
They drove into the heart of the city, Se-hee remaining uncharacteristically tight-lipped about their destination. They parked and walked toward a busy intersection, where a crowd had gathered near a massive LED display.
Haru looked up and froze. It was a billboard. His face - captured from Se-hee's livestreams and rendered in beautiful fan art - glowed against the skyline. "Happy Birthday to our Rising Star, Haru!" it read.
He couldn't believe it. He hadn't even released his first project, yet he had a fan-funded billboard. In the 90s, fandom was a quiet, private thing; now, it was a public force of nature.
"Why don't we take a picture for your first official post?" Se-hee said, snapping a photo before he could even pose. It turned out amazing - Haru looking up at his own image with a mix of wonder and humility.
The day became a whirlwind. They visited a boutique where Se-hee insisted on buying him an outfit. "I know it's not as expensive as the stuff Raiven gave you," she said as they walked down a paved path, "but I noticed your style changed. You look better in this."
Haru looked at her, moved by her effortless kindness.
"Thank you," he muttered, pulling her into a half-hug as they walked. They hit an amusement park next, where he spent an hour coaxing her onto a roller coaster, laughing as she screamed her lungs out.
Later, they met Alice for a celebratory meal. The three of them sat in a raucous barbecue restaurant, the smell of grilled pork and the sound of clinking soju glasses filling the air. Alice and Se-hee hit it off instantly, their laughter drowning out the background music.
Haru didn't drink much. The noise was beginning to weigh on him. "I'm going to step out for some air," he told them.
Outside, the city hummed with life. He leaned against a window and lit a cigarette - habit he'd mostly abandoned since his return, despite the "original" Haru being a smoker. He took a long puff, watching the pedestrians pass by.
His phone rang. He didn't need to look at the screen to know who it was.
"Hello," he said, his voice dropping into a low, warm register.
"Happy Birthday," Raiven's voice came through, clear and resonant despite the thousands of miles between them.
"Thank you," Haru said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
"Did you have fun?"
"It was okay. Apparently, I have a fan club. There's a billboard with my face on it in the middle of Seoul." He tried to sound light, even a bit excited.
"You don't sound excited," Raiven noted, concern lacing his tone. "For someone celebrating their birthday,"
"It's just... nothing." Haru gave up, the smoke curling around his fingers.
"Just what?" Raiven pestered, refusing to let it go.
"It's different this year," Haru said, the sadness finally creeping into his throat. "The timing... the people. It's a lot to take in."
Silence filled the line. For a long moment, the only sound was the distant roar of a plane on Raiven's end.
"Maybe I should have postponed my schedule," Raiven teased. He rarely joked like that; it was a transparent, clumsy attempt to cheer Haru up.
"Don't be absurd. You'd be sued into oblivion," Haru retorted, a small smile finally touching his lips.
"I could just pay the fee. It's not that much," Raiven said loftily.
"You sound like a total rich brat," Haru scolded. He heard a genuine laugh from the other side, and he let out one of his own. The weight on his chest felt marginally lighter.
They stood in a comfortable silence, thousands of miles apart but connected by the digital hum of the call. Haru wanted to tell him that he missed him. He wanted to say that being near Raiven was the only time he forgot he was a ghost. But he didn't know how to say that to a "friend."
"When are you coming back?" Haru finally asked.
"In a few days. Maybe Tuesday or Wednesday," Raiven replied. "Stay out of trouble until then."
They bid each other goodbye, and Haru stubbed out his cigarette. He felt a strange, lingering warmth as he walked back into the restaurant, where Se-hee and Alice were still howling with laughter.