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The place where I followed Yoori was a café I had never seen before.

Of course, the ambiance of the café felt familiar. The soft, warm lighting and neat interior decorations—this was a place very much to Yoori’s taste.

I wasn’t sure if Yoori called me here because it was a place she had been to often or if she deliberately chose a spot I had never visited.

We each ordered a coffee and took a seat.

There were already other customers around. The mixed aroma of their coffees wafted through the air, but it wasn’t bothersome. In fact, it was quite pleasant.

“…”

Yoori took a sip of her coffee and fell into thought.

She didn’t try to hide that look. It was typical for Yoori to openly show when she was worried about me. In truth, she had never hidden her feelings when she was in front of me. Always straightforward, she revealed her thoughts without reservation.

Right now, it seemed like Yoori was trying to figure out where to start her words.

“So, about Siyun…”

“Yeah.”

I had no intention of making excuses.

“…You’re seeing it through the lens of Siyun, aren’t you?”

“…”

I pondered for a long while.

This was a statement I had already denied once. But… if Yoori was meeting with me separately to say this, it meant my attitudes must have been quite apparent in her eyes.

Yoori, perhaps taking my silence as acceptance, tightly closed her lips and then slowly opened them.

“It’s good that you’ve started feeling better. As a friend, I’m happy about that. At least you look more lively than before. Honestly, I feel relieved.”

Surprisingly, the first words out of Yoori’s mouth were not words of concern for me.

Taken aback by my slightly shocked expression, Yoori shrugged her shoulders and said,

“Why? Did you think I’d tell you to stay away from Siyun?”

“…”

I hadn’t thought that far. But I did know she would at least try to persuade me. Those two people… were different from each other. One was a man, the other a woman… many aspects were vastly different. Even the neighborhoods they lived in couldn’t be compared.

I knew where Siyun lived; it was a town that looked expensive, even just getting to the subway station.

Surely, their life experiences would be different from ours.

Of course, Yoori didn’t know such details yet. She only realized how I lived after he passed.

I still couldn’t forget Yoori’s face when she came, knowing our mother was struggling, determined to help.

I know it wasn’t because of bad intent. If anything, she came with goodwill.

…But I doubt she could understand. Not now or ever. Yoori and I had lived differently enough.

How could she, having only found my address, come to my home? The moment I stared blankly at the sight of the dark basement where my mother and Siyun lived—this was something I could never easily forget.

Fortuitously… well, it really was ‘fortuitous’ amid ‘misfortune’—my mother was crying, so she didn’t see that expression.

But even after witnessing that… it’s not like a single shock completely changes thoughts or life.

Yoori hadn’t experienced much of what an ordinary citizen goes through since that day.

That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I shouldn’t think that if I’m pitiful, everyone else should be too.

What I’m trying to say is, Yoori wasn’t the kind of person who would think about how people living near subway stations lived just by hearing about them. She had always lived without lack, without any creases in her life, so she didn’t know how to distinguish people. She treated everyone as if they held exactly the same position as her.

And that kindness could sometimes feel mercilessly cruel.

But friends cannot live without wounding each other. I had given Yoori wounds, too.

It was just how we lived, wrapping each other up.

“If that’s the case, can you do it?”

“…”

I still had no answer available.

I turned the question over in my mind.

What would it be like if Siyun weren’t around?

…Probably, it wouldn’t be a big deal. I’d just continue living as I always had.

I didn’t feel overly dependent on Siyun. I thought it was nice to have him nearby. I thought I’d want to see him for a long time if possible. But if he had to leave… well, I would just consider it fate.

Even if I gained comfort, that Siyun wasn’t the one I knew. It wasn’t like I was saying they were different people, however. Even if I clung to him, it would only burden Siyun.

But… what if, on the contrary, he demanded I stay away?

Would I actually follow that advice?

“I told you, you look good these days. I genuinely mean that. Sure, life needs some vibrance from someone else. It’s a bit unfortunate that it’s not me… but if that Siyun can help you, I’d welcome that. He really seems nice after several conversations. I have a good eye for people, you know.”

I found myself smiling unconsciously at those words.

Indeed, Yoori did have a good eye for people. There were always good people around her.

“But… like I said last time, that person isn’t Siyun.”

“…Yeah.”

Finally, I could muster a single word in response.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

Yoori said sharply in reply to my answer.

“Have you ever mentioned Siyun to him?”

“…No.”

I shook my head.

I hadn’t. No, I couldn’t.

How could I mention that the person I once liked had the same name as you?

“Talking about names… ah, never mind. Thinking about it, names do carry a lot of weight. They stand out easily, after all. But still, if you’re relying on someone for that reason, then… that person next to you, Siyun, has to know about it too.”

“…”

Maybe that was true.

Someday, even after growing very close, if I were to learn of this fact later…

It doesn’t mean I have romantic feelings for Siyun. Of course, he wouldn’t feel that way either. After all… they’re both women. If a person of the same gender, one who works with you, were to be connected for a reason as trivial as the name being similar to someone they’d liked in the past, how would they react upon finding out?

…

…It’s better that Siyun was a man.

“…”

No, that doesn’t seem right.

If that were the case, I wouldn’t have been able to endure it.

“It’s not good for Siyun, but it would be worse for you.”

“…”

I could guess what Yoori was thinking.

“I’m not saying you should go do it right now. Just, slowly unravel your story from the beginning and empathize together. There’s no guarantee that Siyun will understand everything. But still.”

But even then, if the relationship fell apart, it would surely hurt me.

I tried to infer the remainder of what Yoori had left unspoken. Perhaps her words were right.

“…”

Yet even after guessing Yoori’s thoughts, I couldn’t bring myself to answer.

“…Sigh.”

Yoori let out a sigh.

Then, she set down the coffee cup she had in her hand.

“It would have been better if I had completely forgotten that incident back then.”

“…”

“I’m sorry. I know talking about those memories is painful. I understand… but…”

Yoori swept her face with her hands.

“Still, no matter what…”

“Yoori…”

Yoori had talked a great deal with Siyun.

Unlike my own mixed feelings toward Siyun, Yoori treated him like a real brother. In fact, considering Yoori’s sensitivity, she would’ve already known how I felt about Siyun from the very first moment we met. In fact, Hyunseung also seemed to have been certain at some point.

Yoori must have cried just as much that day as I did.

She had vented her frustration and gotten angry on my behalf when I couldn’t fully express my emotions.

“It’s okay to say it. You’ve gotten much better now… and the doctor said it’s better to share the pain.”

“…”

Yoori remained silent for a considerable time.

Then she spoke, as if squeezing out words.

“Have you met that girl since then?”

“…”

Ah, I see.

Yoori still seemed unable to forget about that.

That day, the truck driver knelt at the funeral hall.

The company shifted the blame.

There were a lot of reporters. Flowers sent from who-knows-where filled the funeral hall.

Yoori got angry.

At the truck driver, and the employee from the shipping company who made excuses. She yelled at the reporters who barged in and flashed their cameras without permission. She returned all the bouquets sent from strangers, pushing away the journalists with her own hands.

But the person she was the most angry at was the one who hadn’t shown up that day.

More precisely, she was furious because they hadn’t shown up.

“That girl. She hasn’t come around since then.”

I struggled to find words for what to say, and ultimately could only respond like Yoori, squeezing the words out.

“…She was just a kid back then.”