Episode 27 — A Wound That Was Never Buried

Episode 27 — A Wound That Was Never Buried

"It's already late. Aren’t you going home?"

Rae’s voice was soft. Her arms were wrapped around herself as she stood a few steps away from Kenny, who sat silently on a chair in the guest house living room.

The drizzle outside left a faint mist on the window, as if the night itself was trying to stay hidden from anyone looking out.

Kenny didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on an old book on the table, like he was having a conversation with it instead of with Rae.

"If you want to sleep, go ahead..."

His fingers touched the edge of the yellowing pages. Calmly, he reached for his phone and typed a message.

He replied to Patrick’s voice memo with a single line:

"You’re too restless to understand anything that’s not only about numbers."

Then, after a few moments of silence,

Rae asked, “Why did you suddenly come here looking so... uneasy?”

Kenny looked slightly surprised but didn’t turn to her. He said, “Because you finally opened the book you were never meant to find....”

Rae frowned. She wasn’t sure if she should be angry, suspicious, or just laugh bitterly.

“So this is all a game? You came because I started digging up something that should’ve stayed buried?”

Kenny finally looked at her. His face showed no sign of winning or guilt. Just... tiredness.

“I came because this isn’t about the past anymore. It’s about a legacy that was never given a grave.”

Rae walked slowly and sat at the edge of the sofa. She kept her distance.

“You’re usually more manipulative than this. Now you sound... honest. Or maybe just tired.”

“Or maybe, for the first time, I’m speaking as someone who’s wounded too.” said Kenny.

Silence crept in between them. The ticking of the old clock slowly filled the air.

“You know,” Kenny began again, his voice flat but heavy,

“I grew up on the northern edge of the city. Our village wasn’t on any map. Not because it was small, but because no one thought it mattered. Every rainy season, water came into our kitchen. Every election season, promises came to our door. But no one ever returned.”

He looked out the window. His reflection was faint in the glass....

“I used to think if we were angry enough, stubborn enough... the world would change. But the world only crushed us quietly.”

Rae said nothing. Her eyes scanned Kenny’s jawline, trying to find any trace of manipulation.... but all she saw were scars too real to fake.

“You came to my village before I lived there, didn’t you?” Rae asked.

Kenny nodded slowly.

“Sometime around 1995. I was documenting a land conflict there. I still used a borrowed camera and wrote on paper. You were probably not even ten yet. I didn’t know you lived there until I saw your name on the local resident list.

And in that moment... it felt like a trail from the past coming back unfinished.”

He paused, carefully choosing his next words.

“Your house was built with love by your parents. I know that... But the land? That land once bled, Rae...”

Something cold and sharp crept up Rae’s spine.

“My father said he bought it from a fisherman who moved north. He never said anything about a dark history.”

“Maybe he didn’t know. Or... he chose not to know.”

Kenny took a deep breath and continued.

“That land.... used to be part of a government relocation. Some would call it forced seizure. Old activists fought over it back then.”

Rae lowered her head slightly.

“No way... My father would never be someone like you..... stealing what belongs to others. You liar!”

“Not your father... It was the government, Rae. Your parents did nothing wrong. They bought it from the government. Everything was legal.”

Rae went quiet... her mind turning back to the old activist belongings she had found, things that once belonged to her mother.

Rae thought, “Was my Mom an activist once? Did she feel guilty for buying land that was actually taken from someone else?”

She couldn’t stop thinking about it for several minutes.

Then Kenny took a deep breath....

“What I’ve learned all this time is that idealism… doesn’t always lose. But it’s often alone.”

Silence returned to wrap the room. The rain outside grew lighter, as if it, too, was listening.

Rae leaned back against the sofa. She was still holding one of Kenny’s notebooks in her hands.

“You know everything about me, Kenny... But why don’t you ever tell me about yourself?”

“Because the past is nothing I’m proud of. But sometimes… old wounds are the only language that can speak to someone else’s pain.”

Rae didn’t answer. But the look in her eyes softened Not because she trusted him, but because she was curious. She was still cautious, but a part of her wanted to know more.

Kenny leaned back and looked at the ceiling, where faint light reflected off the damp surface.

“My mother once hid me under the wooden floor when debt collectors came. Every knock at the door made her shake. Our last rented house… someone set it on fire in the middle of the night. We survived because we were out buying food....”

Rae stayed quiet, trying to picture that memory.

“When I first got into the system, I didn’t want to be part of it. I just wanted to understand… why people like my mother had to live in fear. But to change the system from the outside... you need a voice. And to have a voice, you need to sit at their table.”

He looked down, his voice softer now.

“But the price of sitting at their table is… you have to eat what they serve.”

Rae looked at the table, at the books, the files, the objects around them. Suddenly, everything felt like leftovers from a past that had never really died.

“Trust is like a wooden house,” Kenny said. “Warm… but it can burn down anytime.”

He said it plainly. Not asking for sympathy. Just stating a fact. Like someone saying the sky is cloudy.

Rae still didn’t answer. But her breathing grew gentler. For a moment, she didn’t feel the need to doubt. She just... listened.

The night grew deeper. The light in the guest house living room was dim. The rain still hadn’t fully stopped.

They sat in silence, with two chairs between them. But it wasn’t a cold silence. It was... familiar.

Rae glanced toward the wall. Two shadows. Two figures. But because of the sideways light, the shadows seemed to blend into one.

One shape....

She stared at it for a while, then asked softly..... almost like she was talking to herself:

“If I stay here longer... will I change?”

Kenny didn’t answer. But from the way he looked into the fireplace, Rae knew that he heard her.

The clock passed two in the morning....

Rae had fallen asleep on the sofa, still hugging the book. Her breathing was slow and steady.

Kenny stood up quietly. He looked at her for a moment, then picked up a blanket from the side of the chair. His movements were calm, but in that silence, there was something that felt almost like regret.

As he covered Rae with the blanket, a thought echoed in his mind:

“People like us never really sleep, Rae. We just learn to survive between wounds that never healed… and social people threw us away after we fought so hard to defend them.”

He sat back down on the opposite sofa. Watching their shadow on the wall. Two figures, but only one shape....

And for the first time, he closed his eyes.

Not as a CEO. Not as an archivist.

But as someone who once lost a home...

...and was starting to wonder if this was only about taming Rae,

or if something inside him had already begun to change.... because of her.