The lawyer's office was smaller than Hana expected.
Stacks of files teetered on every surface, papers spilling out of folders, coffee cups staining the desk. A flickering lamp cast long shadows across the walls. It didn't look like the kind of place where people won cases.
But the man behind the desk—Mr. Choi—looked different now. Not nervous, not clumsy. Focused. His sleeves were rolled up, his tie loosened, and his eyes sharp as they scanned the teddy bear on the table.
Hana sat on the couch, knees pulled up, watching him. Her bear looked out of place in the sea of paperwork, its stained fur a dark blotch against the white paper.
"Blood," Mr. Choi muttered, leaning close. "Old, but still visible." He ran a cotton swab across the stain and sealed it in a small plastic bag. "If this isn't the victim's blood, then we might have something."
He looked up at Hana. "But Hana… if it isn't her blood, then whose is it?"
Her fingers tightened around the couch fabric. She thought of the stormy night, the shadow running past her window, the glint of a missing button. She grabbed a pencil from the desk and a piece of paper, sketching quickly. Her hands shook, but the lines formed clearly enough—a man's jacket with a missing button near the collar.
Mr. Choi's brow furrowed as he studied the drawing. "You saw this man?"
Hana nodded.
"Not your father?"
Another fierce shake of her head.
Mr. Choi leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "Then someone else was there. Someone the police ignored." He rubbed his temples. "Of course they ignored it. Easier to blame the simple-minded man than look deeper."
He reached for another file, flipping it open. Newspaper clippings, crime scene photos, police reports. He shoved one toward Hana. "Look. This is the victim's last known location—an alley behind the convenience store. But the report says no witnesses. No one saw anything."
Hana's eyes scanned the paper, then she tapped the photo of the alley. She pointed to the sketch she had drawn.
Mr. Choi froze. "You saw him there?"
She nodded again.
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Hana… you might be the only real witness in this case."
Her throat tightened. She wanted to speak, to shout, Yes! Yes, I saw him! Please believe me! But her voice stayed locked, buried under fear and silence. So she clutched the teddy bear instead, lifting it onto the desk between them like proof of her determination.
Mr. Choi stared at her for a long moment. Then he smiled faintly. "Alright. Then we'll fight. Together."
That night, Hana sat in her bedroom, the window cracked open. The storm had passed days ago, but the memory of it lingered. She traced the teddy bear's worn ear with her fingers, thinking of her father's smile through the glass, his trembling voice insisting he was good.
She whispered to the bear in her head, because her voice could never carry the words: We'll save him. I promise.
Her eyes flicked to the corner of the room where the police had taken the kitchen knife. She remembered the way her father had cried when they accused him, his confusion, his fear. He hadn't understood why everyone thought he was bad.
And Hana… she would never forgive herself if she couldn't protect him.
She pressed the teddy tighter. The bloodstain was faint, but it was real. Somewhere out there, the man with the missing button was free. And he had left a trail.
Hana didn't know if the world would ever believe her. But Mr. Choi did. That was enough to keep the spark of hope alive.
For now.