As usual, I woke up at 4:30 a.m. on Sunday morning. After removing the contact lenses I’d forgotten to take out yesterday, I turned on YouTube on my phone. Breaking news filled the screen with reports of the horrific crush accident that had occurred in Itaewon, Seoul. The shocking, sensational headlines were hard to believe. Reports of over 140 deaths and more than 100 injuries seemed unbelievable, so I checked other articles and Twitter videos to grasp the reality of the disaster. During the fire department’s third briefing, seeing the fire chief’s hand trembling slightly as he calmly reported the casualty numbers conveyed the sheer horror and utter chaos of the scene. Amid the raw footage from YouTubers, the club music blaring even as people trapped in the alleyway gasped for air, screaming and collapsing one by one, sounded like a frenzied party unfolding in the very heart of hell.

Itaewon, which had become a mecca for clubs and drinking parties, was once a hotbed of entertainment and pleasure due to the influence of the Yongsan US military base, and was also famous for selling counterfeit fashion items. Yet Itaewon is also renowned for its abundance of exotic restaurants and boutique shops, attracting so many foreigners that a friend living in Songdo, Incheon, would come all the way to Itaewon just to visit a hair salon. Memories remain vivid: family visits long ago for Indonesian food, frequent hangouts with American friends during my KATUSA days, the tailor shop where I had custom suits made during my working life, and even the recent rooftop bar beers with clients just months ago. This news hit me especially hard.

While factors like the structure of densely packed clubs and bars in narrow alleys, illegally expanded stores or outdoor signs narrowing the streets, and the sloping terrain may have contributed, the claim in an unfiltered Twitter post that robust men pushed people around was deeply troubling. Weeks later, an online community even posted what it claimed was a confession of conscience from a Korean Confederation of Trade Unions (KCTU) member. It contained shocking details that tens of thousands moved to Itaewon after the Yongsan rally and pushed from all sides following orders. If true, it made me think the Itaewon tragedy might not be a simple accident but a planned act of terror orchestrated by someone.

After the tragedy, I watched the public statements by the Yongsan District Mayor, Seoul Mayor, Minister of the Interior and Safety, Prime Minister, and President, and felt disappointed because their sincerity didn’t come through. In one news clip, I saw a shopkeeper in the alley where the accident happened, preparing ritual food to console the spirits of the students who perished, only to be stopped by police and break down sobbing. I cried along with them. Even now, the conversation I overheard from young people in an elevator the day before the accident still echoes in my ears. It was the voice of someone debating whether to go to Itaewon for a Halloween party that Saturday night. It’s heartbreaking that Halloween, once an American cultural event enjoyed by a small minority, has become a massive ‘local festival’ in downtown Seoul. The Itaewon tragedy, which caused the largest number of casualties since the Sewol ferry disaster, seems to reflect the dead-end lives of young people in South Korea, leaving me with a heavy heart.