Chapter 14
The coastal air in the northern town smelled of salt water, damp pine needles, and wet sand. It was a sharp contrast to the sterile lemon wax and chilled concrete of the high-rise in the city. Madame Chen stood on the wooden porch of a modest, single-story seaside cottage, watching the tide roll lazily against the rocky shore below.
Her hair was still pulled back into a neat bun, though a few stray strands fluttered gently in the sea breeze. She wore a simple white linen dress instead of her usual tailored skirt suit, the fabric moving softly around her ankles. The porch railing was freshly painted, every slat spaced at uniform intervals, built by local carpenters who had humored her request for absolute symmetry without asking intrusive questions.
A gravel crunch sounded from the driveway as a dark sedan pulled up alongside the wooden fence. Jin-woo stepped out from the driver’s side, wearing his dark jacket but leaving his white gloves behind in the glove compartment. He walked up the wooden steps, carrying a small cardboard box sealed with packing tape.
Chen didn't turn immediately; she watched the horizon for a moment longer before facing him. A faint, genuine smile touched the corners of her mouth—a rare, unguarded expression that made her look ten years younger.
“Detective,” Chen said, her voice carrying the smooth, resonant tone of a cello. “I didn't expect you to make the drive.”
“Just delivering some misplaced property,” Jin-woo said, setting the box gently on the porch table. He opened the top flap to reveal a collection of framed photographs—pictures of David Chen smiling on the deck of a sailboat, laughing in the sunlight long before the shipyard audits and the corporate shadows consumed their lives.
May you like
Chen reached into the box, her fingers tracing the edge of the silver frame holding her husband’s portrait. Her eyes glistened slightly in the morning light, but she did not cry. Her composure was no longer a shield of terror; it was a monument to memory.
“Thank you,” she whispered, looking up at him with clear, steady eyes. “For not treating me like a ghost hunter.”
