prolog

1.
When you wait but it's not what you wanted
2.
A day when there wasn't even an empty desk
3.
Summer sleeplessness and cycling
4.
Do not trespass
5.
Voices outside the window
6.
Password 738
7.
Just adapt and that's it
8.
A diary with only dates
9.
A late arrival
10.
barnacles on turtles' backs
11.
Anyway, the presence that existed
12.
Secrets not shared
13.
Midnight commotion
14.
Fake reconciliation, real greetings
15.
To welcome the summer that has passed
16.
An unbelievable coincidence
17.
I should have seen you off
18.
Time to pretend not to know
19.
The truth that says the wrong thing
20.
The end of the vacation is a thriller
21.
A halo of light surrounds me
22.
That's probably you

Epilogue
Author's Note

A glimpse of hope discovered through a season of loss

Since her debut in 2013, when she won the Blue Literature Award, author Eun-i-gyeol has been thoughtfully portraying the complex realities and struggles faced by children and adolescents. Her new full-length novel, "Beyond the 2.5th Floor," has been published.
The author, who has a deep interest in the hearts and lives of those left behind after losing a loved one, delicately portrays the time of mourning and the feelings of farewell felt by the protagonist, Ajin, upon hearing the news of her friend's disappearance and death.
In an age where the misfortune or absence of others is too easily forgotten or consumed by gossip, this story of trying to remember the departed fully and rewriting grief in one's own way resonates deeply.
It is also a story about warmly comforting children who are prone to asking themselves the cause and feeling guilty when faced with an unexplainable misfortune.

“I hope you too protect the things that are precious to you.
“There must be a way.”

During the summer vacation of her third year of middle school, Ajin quits her academy and devotes herself to waiting for Sena.
I can't put my phone down for even a moment, and when it rains, I get impatient and walk around the streets carrying an extra umbrella.
But the news that Jin-gyu brought from far away was “not what I had hoped for, even though I had waited for it.”
Sena's body was found in a remote and sparsely populated area, far from the village.
Ajin pretends to be fine for the rest of the semester, but in reality, her heart is fragile and in a precarious state.
I feel isolated because I can't talk to anyone about Sena, and I get an uncontrollable rage when I see children who don't know anything carelessly spreading rumors about Sena.
But Ajin blames herself more than anyone else.
I feel guilty for not taking seriously the small signals I felt from Sena the last time I saw her, for not taking her desperate hand in my hand.
At the same time, I keep asking myself if I have the right to be sad and miss someone.
After hearing the news about Sena, Ajin's time is stuck in the middle of a hot summer day with the blazing sun beating down on her.


Suddenly, it occurred to me that the words 'friend' and 'death' really don't go together.
(Page 25)

After a full year, summer came again, and the wounds that had not been properly cared for were aggravated.
Ajin, who suffers from insomnia, roams the neighborhood every morning riding her bicycle, and sits on the landing of the 2.5-story stairs leading to the rooftop of her house, pouring out her heart to 'you' and looking deep into her inner self.
Memories of Sena that were buried in the back of my mind keep surfacing like gnarls, revealing their presence.
Ajin tries to remember Sena clearly by gathering the fragments of her memories that were scattered in pieces.
A world of possibilities that Sena had put off until later, like the things she liked, the things she wanted to do, the things she wanted to have, and the future scenery she dreamed of, but which had now been completely closed off.
Because I decided that “cherishing them is how I apologize to Sena.”

As Ajin crouched alone on the 2.5th floor, her friends Jin-gyu and Eun-je, as well as her family and neighbors, constantly came to visit her and knocked on the door of her heart.
Ajin spends time with Jin-gyu to remember Sena, gets involved in a commotion with her neighbors in a commercial-residential complex that's like a real-life SNS, and gradually recovers while sharing her emotional burdens with her best friend Eun-je.
After spending enough time to mourn and remember, Ajin discovered that people were reaching out to her with rays of love and concern.
Will Ajin be able to look forward to tomorrow, to next summer, to a genuine connection with others beyond the 2.5th floor?

Sharing the burden of the heart that is difficult to bear
A healing journey of giving light and warmth to one another

『Beyond the 2.5th Floor』 unfolds with two central narratives intersecting.
One is a story about everyday life that unfolds as one observes and unintentionally becomes entangled with peculiar neighbors while living with one's aunt in a commercial building.
In particular, the encounter with Haemi, the girl next door, becomes a crucial turning point for Ajin, who was feeling helpless, to develop a healthy attitude toward life, relying on others and giving and receiving help.
Another story depicts the guilt, division, and struggles that Ajin feels as Sena's death overlaps with her mother's death.
The two narratives influence each other, adding depth to the story and leading to serious reflections on life, death, and relationships.
Grief has a time lag, and the timing and intensity of the experience of a tragic event varies from person to person.
Even as we navigate unexpected misfortunes and the pain that comes unexpectedly, the continuation of daily life and connections with others can provide the strength to live.
All sorrow and pain are individual, so no one can force a certain way or attitude on another person, etc…


As if reflecting Ajin's state of being in a daze and suffering from insomnia, the story frequently crosses between the past and present, blurring the boundaries of time.
And the person Ajin confides in is also ambiguous, sometimes being Sena, sometimes being her mother, and sometimes being no one else.
This is the point where we can feel that the events and emotions we experience in life are intricately intertwined, influence each other across time, and are reconstructed into forms that are meaningful to each individual.

The 2.5th floor, where time seems to have stopped, is a space like a diary where Ajin can only pour out her heart, a refuge or a safe zone.
It also symbolizes a time of recovery and respite.
Ajin, who had been lost in her own inner self and pain, comes to realize that everyone has their own circumstances and pain through the unfamiliar landscapes of the world she encounters and the connections she makes with the people around her while suffering from insomnia.
It's difficult to fully understand the typist, but I also realize that "if you don't understand, just accept it as it is."
And after staying on the 2.5th floor for a long time, holding all the fragile and insignificant pieces of himself, he discovers a sign of hope shining through the window.
Readers who have accompanied Ajin on her journey will also be able to think about their own 2.5-story and ponder what awaits them beyond it.

The 2.5th floor, which does not belong to either the ground or the sky, is my diary.
Maybe it's because I've come too far to act like a child, but I'm still far from being an adult.
I poured out my heart there without worrying about what anyone thought.
Above all, I'm glad I met you.
Sometimes you were Sena, sometimes you were a mother, and sometimes you were nobody.
It was okay though.
(Page 181)