The sky was gray that afternoon, twelve years ago. The wind was even colder by the lakeside in Drusa Woods. The town's atmosphere seemed to mirror the negative feelings hanging over the inhabitants of Longino. If the light rain that had formed dewdrops on the leaves earlier returned to fall on the two youths gazing at the lake, it would wash away the tears streaming down the girl's cheeks. She hid her face in the hood of her hoodie ever since they left the memorial.

Na-moo chose to take her to the lake because he wanted to get away from the morose atmosphere that seeped under his skin. The desolate expression on that girl's face when she looked at the photo of the young blonde, placed perpendicular to Choon-sub Hwang's photo, made him realize he wasn't the only one in need of some space from that atmosphere.

When he heard her tell the story of her and her cousin—the blonde girl—without hesitating to follow a stranger like she didn't concern her own life, Na-moo felt grateful that Seung and Yvone had stayed in mourning at home, under the watchful and concerned eyes of his grandmother.

“I would rather die… I wish it was me, the one chosen to die,” the girl's had said in a choked voice.

She didn't need to say it; it was evident in her expression and by the way she had followed him into the woods. Na-moo would never do anything bad to the girl; actually, he would never do anything bad to anyone. But he felt a strong urge to scold her for being so careless, trailing him to the depths of the woods when there was no one else around.

However, a scolding wasn't what she needed at that moment.

“Do you know why I brought you here?” Na-moo had asked, throwing a stone into the lake. 

The stone bounced twice before sinking into the silence that enveloped them.

“Because you felt sorry for me?”

“Do you pity me?”

She didn't answer. Instead, she gazed at the ground beneath her, further staining the tip of her white All Star sneaker.

“My brother used to come here with my father to fish. They were both kidnapped, just like you and your cousin. My mother had to choose one of them to save,” he told her, tossing another pebble into the water. “I didn't want my father to die, but I also didn't want my brother to be the victim. My mother chose to save him, and I don't blame her for it. I think maternal instinct prevailed. I know my brother can't understand, and he probably thinks like you, but I'm glad he's alive. If Seung had died along with our father, my mother would die too. And my father, wherever he is, would be sad to know he couldn't save his son.”

“Hannah wasn't my mother. She saw me as a sister, and my father as a father. And now, she must hate me. Because of me, she's dead, and she won't get to fulfill her dreams!”

“I think Hannah will only hate you if you go on living your life lamenting and saying these kinds of things. Would you be happy to see Hannah blaming herself for your death and saying that you hate her for being the one who survived?”

Once again, Mahalina didn't respond. She turned her face towards the lake, wringing her hands in front of her before tucking them into the pocket of her hoodie.

“I understand how you feel, Mahalina. I saw in your eyes that you feel like an ice cap collapsing. The icy mass burying your lungs until you can't breathe anymore, it hurts so much, this glacial emptiness that pierces your bones and numbs your senses. My brother said that.”

Na-moo tossed the last stone, not caring how many times it skipped on the water. His gaze locked onto Mahalina's. Her brown eyes in her face made him think of his late father's favorite drink, something that was never lacking in their home: whiskey. And as they were, teary, her eyes made him think of a glass of whiskey with ice.

“If my mother had to choose between me and Seung, I would pray that she saved him. And I would hate to see him loathing himself and wishing to end his own life. Geez! I'd have a talk with the higher deity, asking them to give him a good talking-to until Seung made my sacrifice worth it!”

Na-moo flashed a small smile, causing dimples to appear in the corners of his cheeks.

“Hannah might be the breeze that passed us by, whispering through the rustling of the trees. She might be urging you to live fully, to achieve everything you desire. To smile. Because you must have a beautiful smile.”

...

Back in the present, Amélie's whiskey-brown eyes met Na-moo's once again. Just as it had happened that day at Lake Drusa, her lower lip quivered, recalling the words the boy had spoken to her. Involuntary tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked them away, taking a long sip of wine.

While studying with Hannah at home, Amélie had read in one of their study books that ceaseless storms were common on Jupiter, sometimes lasting for centuries. That's how she felt about Hannah's death. She couldn't approach her own father without feeling the vortex of guilt whip through her heart. Just as there was a great storm marked on Jupiter, there was one in her heart too. 

There was a great spot marked by a storm that she felt incapable of removing, even with Winnie's help. Yet, at the same time, remembering the words spoken by the detective the first time they met, while gazing into his eyes, seemed to calm the storm a bit. It was as if, soon, the strong winds would subside, allowing her to reclaim what she had let slip away with time.

“I'm glad to know that my words helped you.” Na-moo broke the silence that fluttered between them. “After that day, I did everything in my power to make sure that Seung and Mom didn't feel guilty about what happened. That's why I decided to join the police force. To catch cruel and sick criminals like that one, and prevent their victims from seeing themselves as responsible for the heinous acts they committed.” He clenched his jaw. “Just like Tsui must be feeling now.”

“I hope she's doing better after our conversation… I told her how I felt when I was in her shoes. That's how I managed to get her to talk.”

Na-moo raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Is that why you wanted to talk to her alone?”

Amélie nodded.

“There are few people who know me and know what happened to my family. People tend to forget crime victims, or accident victims, easily when the media stops reporting about it. I'd say I can count on one hand those who know that I'm Mahalina: one of the survivors of the Longino serial murderer.” She forced a weak smile.

“That's why you changed your name? You don't need to feel ashamed of the past, none of what happened was your fault.”

Their eyes met, and Na-moo bent his body, closing the little space between them. His full lips parted slightly. His warm breath brushed against Amélie's mouth, and the scent of wine, exhaled in their breath, mingled as he lowered his face, brushing his fingertips against her jawline—her heart pounded between her ribs, so fast it almost hurt.

Na-moo slid his fingers over the soft skin of her cheeks, tucking a wavy strand, stuck to the lipstick on Amélie's lips, behind her ear. Then he pulled away, leaning against the arm of the sofa again, pouring himself another glass of wine.

Amélie downed the rest of the wine in her glass to mask her heavy breathing and flushed cheeks.

“Did you stay with your mother the whole time?” Her voice sounded hesitant, her heart still pounding in her chest, and her mind spun for a few seconds as she leaned in to fill another glass. The slight dizziness that crept over her was a sign she shouldn't overdo it. At this point, she had no filters left, and it could get worse if she continued to drink. However, Amélie didn't want to break the pleasant atmosphere around them, nor admit it was time to go home.

“Yes. I was afraid she'd collapse when Seung decided to leave. I didn't try to stop him because I knew he couldn't handle everything that happened if he stayed here. The memories haunted him. So, grandma suggested that Seung go live with her. Thanks to that, and therapy, my brother managed to pull himself together and move on.”

The affectionate smile that spread across Na-moo's face highlighted the adorable dimples in his cheeks as he pointed to the photo frame on the small table behind Amélie, near the window.

“These days he has a beautiful family and lives on the other side of the state. It's five hundred and eighteen kilometers away from Longino. I miss seeing him often, of course, but I'm happy knowing he's safe and healthy.”

“I'm glad you found a way to overcome everything with your family, keeping the connection between you, despite what happened.”

“Speaking like that, it sounds easy, I know. But it was a tough and painful task. My mother always tried to hold it together on her own, tried to seem fine, so I could support and take care of Seung. However, I knew she needed my support too.”

“You did well. You were a great son and brother,” Amélie murmured, gripping the glass between her fingers, she turned her face to the window. A light rain was starting to fall outside, dampening the night sky through the glass.

“You couldn't stay by your father's side?”

“Am I that transparent?” she replied, looking at her through the window's reflection.

“A bit,” he smiled sideways. “But I'm starting to think you changed your name for your father.”

“I…”

“Don't worry, you don't have to tell me about it. I don't want to pry, even though I'm curious. I know it's a sensitive subject for you.”

Amélie raised an eyebrow, turning her face towards him again with an inquisitive look.

“Your body language changed after I talked about my family,” Na-moo explained. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I didn't invite you to drink with me to talk about that. We can discuss other things or drink in silence if you prefer.”

“You're a pleasant company, Na-moo. And as strange as it may sound, I don't find it odd to talk about this with you. It's thanks to you that I stopped acting like a rebellious survivor.”

A wider smile spread across Na-moo's face, but before he could think of something to say, Amélie lifted the bottle and declared with a mischievous grin:

“This wine won't drink itself. How about we finish it off?”