Between Earth and Elsewhere

“They’re so alike... so identical it’s like she’s been reincarnated…”

“I should stop coming now. She’s not my sister after all...”

Seorin left with just those words. No accusations of murder, no questions about how he could live with himself.

Yeomyung felt a brief flicker of relief at her restraint. Maybe she didn’t blame him either. Or maybe—and this thought unsettled him—she had wanted Arin dead too, grateful that Yeomyung had done what she couldn’t.

The guilt settled over him like a heavy cloak. He hadn’t killed Arin, not really. Her desire to jump had already been at 99 percent. He’d only added that final push, making it 100. Just bad luck, like everything else in his life.

The image of Arin lying on the road, looking up at him, flashed unbidden through his mind.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Daeun asked from across the low table.

Her face merged with Arin’s in his mind—so similar it sent chills down his spine, as if he were dining with a ghost.

“I’m not that hungry,” he said, setting down his spoon.

“Don’t tell me you’re already being picky after just a week?”

For the past week, Daeun had brought him home every evening, cooking dinner. The side dishes never varied, and the stew changed only occasionally—sometimes there wasn’t any at all. When it was time for his shift at the logistics center, she’d walk him to the bus stop.

He thought about asking her not to, but it felt too much like something couples would say, so he kept quiet.

That was all there was to it. Daeun made no other demands. She simply fed him dinner and saw him off. Maybe she thought persistence would win his heart, or maybe she found satisfaction in caring for someone she liked. Or was there another reason entirely?

If she did like him, why? Most girls backed away once they learned about his family situation. Why hadn’t Daeun? Then again, threatening to jump from a rooftop wasn’t exactly normal behavior.

Maybe she felt a kinship with him, or perhaps she enjoyed feeling superior to someone more pitiful than herself. Like young Yeomyung, she might have confused pity with love. Or maybe she just had an odd attraction to poor, struggling men.

Daeun made him uneasy—this girl who knew all his flaws, whose true feelings remained a mystery. But what choice did he have? If he pushed her away again, there was no telling what she might do. He told himself this was the only option.

Yet deep down, he didn’t completely hate coming to her house. Still, Yeomyung knew that when the crucial moment arrived, he’d have to run. Though caught in her net now, he stayed ready to tear free and escape.

Daeun scraped Yeomyung’s leftover rice onto her own plate. The gesture reminded him of his grandmother, who would always claim there was too much food and take the leftovers from his or Hyeonmyung’s bowls.

“I can’t have dinner tomorrow,” Yeomyung said. “I have to take my grandmother to the hospital.”

The words felt oddly domestic, like something married couples would say.

“You usually go in the morning, though.”

“The doctor won’t be there then. The appointment got changed.”

“Oh.” Daeun nodded, unfazed. “Got it.”

“How long are you going to keep making me dinner?”

“Wouldn’t you be the one to know that, Yeomyung?”

“What do you mean?”

Daeun only offered a faint smile.

***

She was waiting for him again.

“I can’t have dinner today,” Yeomyung said.

“I know,” replied Daeun. “You said you were taking your grandmother to the hospital. I’ll go with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”

“I’ll just go by myself.”

“You’ll be glad to have me there. I can help your grandmother to the bathroom. And you don’t have to say anything—I’ll keep her company. It must be tiring for you, always listening to her repeat the same things.”

“I’ll still go alone.”

“Why do you always act so tough?”

Yeomyung fell silent.

“You say you want to die, but you don’t really. You’d rather have me come, but you insist on going alone. Why? Are you embarrassed? What’s there to be embarrassed about? I’ve already seen your grandmother at the hospital. And even if you are embarrassed, just deal with it. I’m offering to help.”

“I just don’t like how I feel.”

“You’re not quite ready to die yet, huh? That’s why you didn’t jump the other day.”

Yeomyung said nothing. Daeun spoke to him like a child being scolded, her words deliberately pricking at his shame. She knew exactly what she was doing.

When he didn’t respond, she walked ahead toward the bus stop.

Yeomyung sighed inside. He couldn’t tell if he truly hated how Daeun clung to him, or if he actually liked that she made it impossible for him to push her away.

He followed her to the bus stop. She stood there, hands in her pockets, waiting. Yeomyung watched her from behind.

A breeze stirred, making Daeun’s loose t-shirt flutter. The thin fabric clung to her frame, revealing her delicate shoulders and shoulder blades. The sight filled Yeomyung with an inexplicable sadness.

Like watching a dying fawn.

His heart ached without reason.

The bus arrived, and they boarded in silence.

Back home, Yeomyung brought out his grandmother while Daeun hailed a taxi. She greeted his grandmother with her sandwich-seller smile.

His grandmother’s constant grumbling ceased at the sight of Daeun, her face brightening. Yeomyung took the front seat while Daeun and his grandmother sat in back. His grandmother seemed to have no memory of seeing Daeun at the hospital before.

“Is she your girlfriend, Yeomyung?”

“She’s a friend.”

“A friend? Oh my, a friend who follows you to the hospital?”

Daeun laughed. Yeomyung stayed quiet.

His grandmother stroked Daeun’s hand. “Oh my, how can your hands be so smooth and soft? My hands used to be like this when I was young.”

“You’re still beautiful,” Daeun replied. “I bet your hands were much softer than mine when you were young.”

“Beautiful? These old hands? They’re all wrinkled and ugly now. I’ve lived too long. All I do is make my grandson suffer… Oh dear…”

“That’s why you have to stay healthy. So you don’t make him worry.”

“That’s easier said than done. When you get old, everything hurts.”

His grandmother seemed happy to have someone to talk to after so long. Was Daeun doing all this just to impress him?

“All of this just because of that—”

Screech—

Thud!

The car jolted to a sudden stop. Yeomyung lurched forward, the seatbelt catching him with a sharp pressure across his chest and abdomen. A car had cut in front of them, causing a minor collision.

The taxi driver cursed as he got out.

Yeomyung spun around.

His grandmother and Daeun had their seatbelts on, but his grandmother was clutching her chest. The sudden stop had shocked her, straining her heart.

“Are you okay?” Daeun gripped his grandmother’s shoulder.

“Oh… oh… oh, dear…”

His grandmother’s breathing came in heavy gasps.

Yeomyung and Daeun’s eyes met. They both knew something was seriously wrong.

Yeomyung unbuckled, got out, and rushed to the back seat. He lifted his grandmother, who was slumping forward.

“Grandma. Breathe. Take a deep breath. Grandma. Grandma!”

Her mouth worked soundlessly, unable to form words.

Yeomyung fumbled for his phone, hands shaking as he tried to dial 911.

A hand covered his screen.

He looked up to find Daeun blocking his phone.

He stared at her, uncomprehending.

“What’s the point of saving her?” Daeun asked.

“…?”

“Are you going to keep living like this? Wouldn’t it be better to just let her go?”

Let her go…

Yeomyung looked at his grandmother, her breath seemingly ready to stop at any moment. His gaze darted between Daeun and his grandmother.

“Are you telling me… not to call for help?”

Yeomyung gazed down at his phone, frozen. Daeun’s voice came in a rapid whisper.

“The driver’s outside arguing. He won’t know when her condition got worse. When he comes back, that’s when we call. We’ll say she seemed fine at first, just startled, but then suddenly started gasping for air.”

She spoke with chilling calm, without a hint of hesitation, as if she’d planned it all.

A shiver ran through Yeomyung. How could she say such things? Moments ago, she’d been holding his grandmother’s hand…

“Are you crazy? You’re telling me to let my grandmother die?”

“Yeomyung.” Her voice hardened. “Think about it carefully. What happens if she lives another two or three years? The best years of your life will slip away, and you’ll spend years after that paying off her hospital bills. Do you think it’ll only ruin your life? What about the rest of your family? It sounds cruel, but if your grandmother dies now, it’s better for everyone.”

Yeomyung went silent. The future he’d been avoiding crashed over him like a wave.

“A chance like this won’t come again.”

Daeun’s words crept into his mind like a demon’s whisper.

Could this be God’s one act of mercy, feeling guilty for neglecting him all this time?

His grandmother’s wheezing grew louder, phlegm bubbling in her throat. Yeomyung’s phone began to lower, his thoughts spiraling.

Yeah… she’s lived long enough. How many people are suffering because of one grandparent? With her hospital bills, Hyeonmyung could go to college, we could pay rent for months, and I wouldn’t work on three hours of sleep. She’ll just spend her remaining years in and out of hospitals, suffering through chemotherapy. Is it right to ruin everyone’s lives just to buy a few more years? Other people must be waiting for their relatives to die, only keeping them alive because they can’t bring themselves to do it.

Time stretched on. His grandmother choked, struggling for air.

Daeun’s voice floated through his haze. “You’ve done enough, Yeomyung. What grandson does this much? No one can blame you. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t cause the accident. Even if you call now, she can’t be saved. Her condition is too far gone. It’s better this way. Trust me.”

That’s right… I’ve done my best… Grandma should do something for her children too… Yeah… But still…

How is this different from killing her? Am I really going to watch her die? How much will I regret this? Am I really becoming trash? I’m not that far gone… I’m not that kind of person…

His life was already ruined. Did he think he could live decently after letting his grandmother die?

“But this isn’t right,” he muttered, shoving Daeun’s hand away.

He dialed 911. This time, she didn’t try to stop him.

“I have a medical emergency. It’s my grandmother. She has liver cancer… There was an accident, and I think it’s affecting her heart… right now…”

Following the paramedic’s instructions, he unbuckled his grandmother and laid her outside the car. He cleared her airway, checked her tongue wasn’t blocking her throat, and pressed his fingers to her carotid artery, ready for CPR if her heart stopped.

Daeun helped silently beside him.

Yeomyung avoided her gaze when their eyes met. Her look seemed to scold him—that his moment of pity and responsibility was foolish. That today would ruin his life. That he’d thrown away God’s last gift.

Under his fingers, his grandmother’s pulse flickered faintly.

What if it stopped and he did nothing? If he claimed he still felt a pulse, didn’t start CPR… what then? If God offered just one more chance…

He couldn’t tell if he wanted that pulse to stop or keep going.

It wavered but held on.

Then came the sirens’ wail.

She’s going to live.

Something passed through him—relief or disappointment, he couldn’t tell.

He thought about pressing down on her carotid artery before the paramedics arrived…

But he couldn’t.

What if she ended up bedridden? What if someone had to care for her day and night? Had he just sentenced himself to more misery?

The paramedics loaded her into the ambulance.

“One family member can ride with her!”

Yeomyung climbed in. Before the door closed, he glimpsed Daeun’s expressionless face.

He watched, half-dazed, as they checked his grandmother’s vitals.

At the emergency room, doctors and nurses swarmed around her, connecting tubes and machines.

Then the doctor spoke: “It looks like the patient is already dead.”

Yeomyung stared at him.

The words were so matter-of-fact, he wondered if he’d heard right.

Then came the confirmation.

Beeeeep—

The heart monitor drew its green line straight across the screen.

Yeomyung looked at his grandmother. She lay motionless, eyes fixed on nothing. She had stiffened, her chest still. Without that small movement of breath, she looked utterly lifeless.

“Time of death: 9:43 p.m., August 24th, 2024.”

The nurses began removing tubes and machines like folding laundry.

A nurse’s whispered words reached him:

“If only they’d arrived a few minutes earlier…”