Systemism

Hyeonwoo (9)

Hyeonwoo's legs nearly gave out as he stumbled toward Hae-in. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing—the blood, so much blood, dark and pooling beneath her like a sea of despair. The storm outside howled, but it was nothing compared to the silent storm raging in his heart. His breath hitched, body shook with every step.

Hyeonwoo: "Hae-in...?"

His voice was a raw whisper, but there was no response. She lay still, her face a ghostly shade, lips parted as if she had been trying to speak. His chest clenched in panic. He dropped to his knees beside her, his fingers trembling as he reached out, afraid to touch her, afraid of what he might confirm.

He lowered his head closer to her face, desperate to hear anything. Then, faintly—so faint it was almost swallowed by the storm—he heard her.

"Let... me... see... her..."

Her words were barely audible, like a breath carried away on the wind. Hyeonwoo's heart stopped. 

"Her?" 

He turned frantically, scanning the blood-streaked floor until his eyes found it—a small, red figure, lying amidst the chaos.

His breath caught in his throat. It was an infant, covered in blood, her tiny body slick and trembling with life. The umbilical cord was still attached a grotesque reminder of the struggle Hae-in had endured to bring her into the world. The baby's cries were weak, barely audible like she was fighting to breathe.

Hyeonwoo's hands shook violently as he reached out, hesitant at first, but then, with a sob stuck in his throat, he lifted the fragile infant into his arms. She was so small, so fragile, her skin slick and glistening with blood that smeared across Hyeonwoo's fingers. Her tiny body felt almost weightless like she could disappear at any moment. The smell of blood overwhelmed him, metallic and thick, mixing with the damp air of the storm.

His vision blurred with tears as he cradled the child, her soft, pitiful cries breaking through the storm's roar. He turned back to Hae-in, who lay motionless except for the faint, shallow rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes fluttered weakly, barely open, her lips moving in a silent plea.

Hyeonwoo: "Hae-in... it's her... it's our daughter."

His voice cracked, thick with emotion as he knelt beside her. He gently placed the infant in Hae-in's arms, guiding her weak hands to cradle their daughter. But Hae-in's fingers were so weak, trembling as they touched the baby's soft cheek, before falling limp again. She could barely hold her child, her body too drained, too broken.

Hyeonwoo's heart shattered at that moment. He could see it—her life slipping away, piece by piece, with every shallow breath she took. The blood, thick and dark, continued to pool beneath her, a grim reminder that the cost of bringing their child into this world was her own life. Tears streamed down Hyeonwoo's face, his chest heaving with sobs as he tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat.

Hyeonwoo: "Stay with me... please..."

But he knew. Deep down, he knew she wasn't going to make it. He could see the life fading from her eyes, her body growing colder by the second. She managed one final look at their daughter, her lips curling into the faintest of smiles, but it was fleeting. Her chest rose and fell one last time—then stopped.