Yoo-hwa stood in front of it and stared at it, thinking deeply. Then she reached out her hand and picked some of the few remaining flowers. Woo-hyun, who slowly approached her, looked at the three flowers in Yoo-hwa’s hand.

“Do you like flowers?”

Woo-hyun asked as if he was surprised.

It was strange to see a woman picking flowers from an abandoned wreath not long after hearing that she was in debt to a gangster. He wanted to ask if she could afford to admire flowers.

“Yeah, I like them. The character ‘hwa’ in my name is the character for flower.”

“Is that so?”

He didn’t know. In fact, he wasn’t interested.

“At least you picked fresh ones.”

Woo-hyun answered half-heartedly.

“Yeah. These are artificial flowers.”

Yoo-hwa showed the flowers to Woo-hyun. Then, in the dark, he noticed what was clearly a leaf. The wreath was also filled with real flowers. They were a little withered, but some of the intact ones stood out.

“There are real flowers too.”

“I don’t really like real flowers. They wither quickly.”

Yoo-hwa said, gazing at the fake flowers.

“Then they get thrown away quickly.”

“…”

“That’s why I like artificial flowers. Artificial flowers don’t wither.”

Yoo-hwa said, still staring quietly at the flowers. As if she was happy to find artificial flowers, a slight smile hovered over Yoo-hwa’s face for the first time.

“Artificial flowers are also thrown away eventually.”

Yoo-hwa frowned at Woo-hyun’s words. She was hurt, but she looked like she was trying to hide it.

“Still… They can stay until they are thrown away.”

“…”

“Even if it’s only a day more than real flowers.”

“…”

“Because that day is precious.”

With such words, Yoo-hwa began to climb the shallow uphill street, cherishing the flowers in her arms.

Woo-hyun looked at Yoo-hwa’s back as she moved away and remembered her name again.

Yoo-hwa.

There was a flower in her name.

And he just realized that their conversation wasn’t about flowers, but about her dream.

The simple and desperate dream that she didn’t want to be abandoned anymore.

***

The wind blew every now and then in the middle of the silent night. After carefully opening the door so that it wouldn’t creak, Woo-hyun stepped out the small door and straightened his back.

The dim streetlights sparsely illuminated the dark floor. Woo-hyun stood in front of the gate, only stepping in dark places where the light could not reach.

There was a garbage bag that was pressed tightly that seemed like it would easily tear just by touching it. In fact, as soon as Woo-hyun poked it with the tip of a utility knife, the plastic bag tore open with a ripping sound. The garbage inside poured out instantaneously.

Sitting in a crouching position, Woo-hyun took out the unneeded trash and then separated the papers. There could be a message from Yi-woon, or a note about him.

He didn’t intend to go to such an extent. However, he couldn’t stay away for a long time, and he was reluctant to give instructions to the other guys. He was sure they would scramble through this mess and laugh at it.

Even in the dark, Woo-hyun’s gloved hand moved quickly. Because the bathroom was separated, there was no particular trash. Things that can’t get recycled after cooking, wastepaper, etc.

It wasn’t the first time he was doing a dirty investigation like this, so he could tell even if he grabbed the trash by the tip while wearing gloves.

Whether it was paper or wastepaper, if it was needed or not.

After roughly picking up the needed items, Woo-hyun cleaned it up so that Yoo-hwa wouldn’t notice anything strange when she came out early in the morning.

Still crouching, Woo-hyun unfolded three sheets of paper that were strangely crumpled. The paper that spread out with a rustling sound was completely crumpled. There was something written in the middle of it.

Is the reason why humans desperately seize life because there is death only when they overcome pain? Is it because there is no certainty that death is tranquility?

She said she had abandoned her dream of being a writer. Nevertheless, she did not seem to have abandoned the habit of writing sentences.

Woo-hyun read the sentences again.

… Exactly. Why was she clinging to this tiresome life?

Woo-hyun asked himself. Is it because there is no certainty that death is tranquility, as Yoo-hwa said? The answer still didn’t come to him.

His hands turned to the next paper.

The loved one had vivacity. There was something alive and strong, something I couldn’t have even after a lifetime.

Mostly, they were phrases that calmly confessed her sad and desperate feelings. Even though he could laugh at the excessive emotions, no laughter came out. As soon as he read it, it unexpectedly made sense. He didn’t know what the sentences meant, but he thought he knew exactly which emotions they were.

Like a long time ago, when he read the writing about the shadows.