WOP Ch 2.6

“It’s only natural. Everyone must have been very worried since you got hurt.”

Unable to hide his sympathy, Min Kyung-soo chimed in. It might have been an everyday empathy, but for Joyoon now, it was a deadly poison.

Ha Joyoon’s complexion, as he looked at Seo Youngwoo, gradually turned pale. Emotions akin to anger trembled like an earthquake. Despite his calm expression, inside, he was heating up due to this rare outburst of emotion. As if unaware of such feelings, Seo Youngwoo continued to express his opinion as casually as a daily greeting while organizing the prepared materials.

“Being a war correspondent seems really dangerous. There’s a risk of being taken hostage, and the people waiting for you, like family or friends, must also be mentally drained since it’s a job where you stake your life…”

“…”

“Waiting is never easy. Mr. Ha must have a lot to think about, choosing to go to such places; it’s not something you can ignore the practical issues of. Normally, no one wants their family to go to such places. In that sense, your choice seems very sacrificial, and I really find it impressive. If it were me, considering my family, I could never make such a choice.”

“People are different. You can’t please everyone.”

Min Kyung-soo interjected with a puzzled look at what seemed like criticism veiled as concern. After touching his chin as if in thought, Seo Youngwoo returned to his usual composed expression and continued.

“But waiting endlessly for someone who doesn’t know when they’ll return is tough too. The exhaustion from waiting without certainty… Mr. Ha must feel bad about that too. Your family must have been strongly against it.”

Sacrifice, choice.

Only then did Ha Joyoon realize Seo Youngwoo’s intention with his clumsy inquiry into his well-being. A cold smile formed at the corner of his mouth at this crude provocation. What made him so anxious? Why look at me with such a face after taking the only person I had? A sigh mixed with a scoff escaped him in response to that clear anxiety and jealousy.

With a hand tiredly brushing his stiffened cheek, Joyoon turned his head aside. His heart, frozen like ice, creaked as ugly hatred rose within him.

“Are you saying I shouldn’t have gone?”

“Sorry?”

A hoarse voice came out. Seo Youngwoo’s eyes widened, seemingly unprepared for such a response. Even Nam Hyunwoo, standing a few steps away, turned his gaze towards them with a bewildered expression at Ha Joyoon’s sharp reaction, which he had never seen before.

“Does it mean I shouldn’t go if the people around me don’t want me to? According to Seo Youngwoo, should only those with nothing to lose go to such places?”

“No, that’s not…”

“That doesn’t seem right.”

“…”

“Is my thinking wrong? I’m really asking because I don’t know.”

Ha Joyoon exhaled slowly, looking directly at Seo Youngwoo. His eyes, which had been hardened until moments ago, now shook with confusion.

He knew well the nature of people with such eyes. At least, they weren’t the type accustomed to hurting others. In places filled with guns, blood, and screams, Joyoon had seen countless devils wearing the mask of humanity. He knew the characteristics of those who sought to control others and only fill their own selfishness.

Seo Youngwoo’s current behavior was merely an awkward expression of his anxious feelings. It was clumsy and inept, not even a proper attack, but potentially fatal to someone.

His wandering thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Then, a cold laugh followed. Who was thinking of whom, who had sympathy for whom? He neither had the leisure nor the qualification for such things. His heart made a loud, rattling noise.

Brushing his disheveled hair back with a careless hand, Ha Joyoon continued in a toneless voice devoid of any emotion.

“I believe if no one goes, someone has to. I’m just one of the many who chose to go, and that’s neither the great choice nor sacrifice Seo Youngwoo speaks of…”

“…”

“It’s just my personal belief and choice… The same goes for family issues. But I see no reason to hear Seo Youngwoo’s concerns about such personal matters. If there’s resentment or concern to be expressed, it should come from my own people, not you. Or is this an interview?”

“…No, no, it’s not.”

“Then that’s a relief. It’s not a pleasant topic.”

His expression hardened instantly, and Seo Youngwoo’s clenched fists trembled slightly. However, since there was no reason for Ha Joyoon to care about or notice Seo Youngwoo’s emotions, he gathered his remaining documents without hesitation and stood up completely.

Extreme fatigue washed over him. The air around them had long since turned cold. Ignoring the curious glances and whispers behind him, Ha Joyoon spoke calmly.

“Would it be alright if I leave first? It seems there’s nothing more for me to do.”

“Uh? Uh… Mr. Ha Joyoon, go ahead. We’ll do the interview later anyway, and today is for hearing from Asian correspondents… Is that okay, Director?”

“It’s fine. Go ahead.”

The man who had silently observed the situation finally nodded after a while. Their eyes met briefly, but his gaze was unreadable.

“I apologize.”

Only after receiving Shin Kwonjoo’s permission did Joyoon sigh gently, bow to the two, and exit the meeting room.

The curiosity and attention followed him like shadows. There was no hesitation or reluctance in his steps as he left. At this moment, Ha Joyoon was genuinely grateful to Shin Kwonjoo for not pointing out the awkwardness in the atmosphere or his inappropriate behavior.

Click—

With the sound of the door closing, sighs broke out from various corners of the previously silent meeting room. “What’s going on? He seemed angry?” Questions about the situation spread like ink dropped into water. Amidst the commotion, only the two kept a heavy silence with stern faces.

“Are you crazy? Youngwoo, why would you create such an atmosphere?”

Min Kyung-soo whispered, grinding his teeth as he lowered his body.

“Sorry.”

“…Really, this is driving me mad.”

Click. Tap. Click. The sound of a fountain pen tapping on the table in the silence resembled the sensation of a spear about to pierce through.

After observing the situation in silence for a while, the man’s cold eyes moved toward the remaining person. Even Seo Youngwoo, who had maintained a facade of calmness, flinched at the sharp gaze that seemed to cut through. The eyes looking at him were darkly cold, seemingly angry.

Why? A faint question arose, but the gaze was so sharp that he tensed up unconsciously. The ones flustered by the abruptly sunk atmosphere were Team Leader Lee Jong-seon and Assistant Manager Min. They were in a fluster, unsure of how to deal with the silent attack on their subordinate.

“During the time of the May 18 Gwangju Democratization Movement in Korea…”

A languid voice flowed like a serene river through the chaotic atmosphere of the office. Click. Click. After putting the fountain pen that had been tapping on the paper into his jacket pocket, Shin Kwonjoo rested his chin on his hand, looking straight at Seo Youngwoo from a distance. His gaze was so direct that it was clear who he was speaking to.

“In one city, people were cruelly killed by the authority of a dictator, but unfortunately, not many knew about it.”

Tilting his head slightly, Shin Kwonjoo added as if he had just remembered.

“Even many knew it with distortions.”

Seo Youngwoo’s eyes narrowed as if trying to understand Shin Kwonjoo’s intention. At this, the other man also blinked with a slight sneer, his voice clearly mocking. Heat rose to Seo Youngwoo’s face at this sound. He felt burdened by the sudden attention directed at him, but he couldn’t avoid Shin Kwonjoo’s direct gaze, so he had no choice but to meet it.

“The media was strictly controlled, and journalists who tried to convey the truth were either fired or taken away by the military like the citizens’ army. Because of this, the news known domestically and internationally about the same incident was completely different.”

“It’s amusing.” He muttered like it was to himself. His hand, stroking his sharp jaw, was very slow, and it equally made the other tense. Not only was his appearance striking, but the man exuded an aura that overwhelmed others.

“But completely blocking people’s eyes and ears was impossible then and now. No matter how much you try to hide it, the truth eventually comes out. The atrocities where the military indiscriminately killed civilians at that time were revealed to the world by foreign journalists who managed to take clandestine photos and send them abroad years later.”

Shin Kwonjoo shrugged, excessively furrowing his previously smooth forehead. His expression was subtle, neither smiling nor angry.

“As you might know, the safety of life wasn’t guaranteed in a place where gunfire and brutal deaths were rampant. It wouldn’t have been strange if they killed domestic or foreign journalists under the pretext of accidental gunfire. It’s similar to the situation in the Myanmar civil war.”

He looked at Seo Youngwoo, who was listening silently, with a disinterested face. Despite his calm expression, the man’s eyes were very meticulous and cold.

“Those journalists also had family, lovers, and friends. Mr. Seo Youngwoo.”

“…”

“And someone had to do it.”

When a specific name was mentioned, everyone’s attention turned to Seo Youngwoo. His face, which had turned red and then pale, stiffened with shame.

“The civil wars happening in various countries now are similar to what happened in our country not even a hundred years ago. If the domestic media doesn’t fulfill its role properly, there have always been people in our history who compensate for that in some way.”

Leaning back slightly with his arms crossed, Shin Kwonjoo exuded a relaxed confidence. His lowered eyes shone arrogantly. There was a chill that could even seem angry.

“If you have much to lose and are afraid of losing it, then don’t do it. Just stay in your room and protect what’s yours. No one forces you to sacrifice or criticizes you for not doing so. Choosing to do it means you’ve accepted, consciously or unconsciously, the possibility of loss. Then, that choice should be respected, right? After all, no matter how close they are, family, friends, or lovers can’t control another person’s life and choices forever. There’s nothing as empty and light as anger and criticism that’s just words.”

The line between formal and informal speech was a precarious balance. However, Shin Kwonjoo’s demeanor was so fierce and cold that no one dared to comment on it.

“So, what I’m saying is, the wise Mr. Seo Youngwoo just doesn’t have to go to such places. And the foolish reporter from our office who couldn’t read the situation earlier and ruined the atmosphere just needs to follow his own path. That’s all there is to it. Understand?”

“…”

A silence where even breathing was done cautiously ensued. The face of the one who had been insulted was contorted to the point where it couldn’t twist any further. Shin Kwonjoo scanned him indifferently before delivering his final blow.

“Well, assuming you understand. I interjected because it seemed amusing from afar. Please forgive me.”

Speaking slowly but with emphasis on each word, the man stood up, one hand on the paper. Screech. The sound of the chair being dragged back filled the desolate space.

“Does TnG have anything more to say about the exhibition? Our bureau will cooperate as much as possible. From now on, any practical requests should be directed to our editor-in-chief, Mr. Kim Chaehwan, here, not to me.”

At the final words to conclude the situation, the TnG team leader quickly stood up, wiping away cold sweat.

“No, there’s nothing more. We’ll take care of everything. And Director, Seo Youngwoo is our youngest team member, still a rookie, so he has many shortcomings. He did make a verbal mistake, but that wasn’t his true intent. He’s passionate about this work, so please don’t misunderstand.”

Hurry up and apologize. Lee Jong-seon muttered, gritting his teeth, his bulging vein on his forehead indicating his anger. Only then did Seo Youngwoo bow his head in haste, realizing the situation.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away because of similar circumstances around me.”

The dark eyes narrowed, clearly mocking.

“Can’t you tell when to mix personal feelings and when not to? Haven’t you done any social work? When passion goes too far, it becomes presumptuous. It tarnishes not just your name but that of your superiors and your company. How did you manage to conduct Weyton’s photo exhibition with such a mindset? Weyton must be quite lenient, without a filter.”

“…”

“And I don’t think your apology should be directed at me. Even a three-year-old knows who to apologize to. Mr. Seo Youngwoo, do your job properly. You’re not unaware, are you?”

His body, now completely stiff as if it had turned to stone, trembled with regret at the crescent-shaped smile. A period of silence ensued where no one could easily speak over the icy atmosphere. Pity seeped into the eyes of those watching Seo Youngwoo, who couldn’t say a word. Just as Kim Chaehwan was about to step in:

“Uh… Director.”

“I’ll be going first. Please gather the materials. Editor-in-chief, I’ll leave the meeting’s conclusion to you.”

The man, preempting the end, draped his jacket over one arm and pointed with his eyes at the documents on the desk.

Although he said to gather them, his gaze seemed ready to tear them apart, prompting Kim Chaehwan to quickly start organizing the documents. Confirming this, Shin Kwonjoo also briskly left the office. Until he opened the door, he didn’t look back at the TnG employees. Only after the heavy sound of his shoes faded did sighs begin to be released one by one.

“…Is Seo Youngwoo out of his mind?”

At the voice full of suppressed anger, Seo Youngwoo, who had been out of it, quickly spoke up.

“Team leader, I’m sorry. I…”

“Save the excuses. Just pack up.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Let’s talk outside.”

The trembling voice of his superior indicated the seriousness of the situation. It was clear that his name would be excluded from the task distribution for this exhibition planning. It was far from what he had hoped for, both the process and the outcome. The looks in the meeting room towards him were clearly filled with blame. It was a disaster in every way.

Seo Youngwoo sat down on the chair as if collapsing, burying his face in his hands. Only then did the reality of his emotions start to rush in like waves, recalling the situation and his state of mind.

What did I even say…

He remembered Ha Joyoon looking at him with a pale face. His expression was blank and pale, like a dead person. Guilt washed over him belatedly. He knew Ha Joyoon was already going through enough without his behavior. He knew he should be the one receiving the blame. Yet, when he saw his face, he couldn’t control his emotions. He felt hatred and resentment.

Unmanageable love turns people into monsters. Black, nauseating monsters with a foul smell. Once you press the button of the monster, humanity and conscience disappear, leaving you focused solely on your own emotions and desires. He didn’t know a relationship that started wrong could turn him into such an ugly monster. Although he knew where it went wrong, he didn’t have the courage to untangle the knotted mess. Even though he didn’t truly possess it, he didn’t want to let go of it either.

As the room was cleared and everyone left the meeting room, Seo Youngwoo was weighed down by intense self-blame and guilt for a long time.

“Ha, are you really not going?”

“Yes. I’ll skip today.”

“They prepared this meeting because those people want to apologize to you. You should get a proper apology.”

“No, it’s not necessary. Please tell them not to worry about me. I’m just not feeling well. I’ve been taking medication lately, and my doctor ordered me not to drink this week.”

“Oh, if that’s the case, there’s nothing we can do. Well, health comes first…”

At the polite refusal, Kim Chaehwan sighed while expertly cleaning his glasses.

“You didn’t feel good, right? Even I was dumbfounded watching it. That young guy, after you left, got an earful from the director. But he did apologize properly to everyone for his mistake. He said he was worried but it came out distorted. Still, he didn’t seem like a bad person.”

“I’ve heard such things often; I’m used to it. It’s nothing new, so don’t worry too much and go ahead. It’s already seven, Editor-in-Chief.”

When he pointed out the time, Kim Chae-hwan checked the clock with a surprised expression.

“Oh my, it’s that late already. Everyone must be waiting, so I’ll head out. Ha, I’ll go first then. See you tomorrow.”

“Take care.”

After bowing to the editor-in-chief, who was hurriedly heading to the exit, he turned his chair. Bang. With the sound of the door closing, the last person left in the office besides him disappeared. Only then did true silence make its presence known, riding on the night’s atmosphere.

Click. Click.

Only the sound of mouse clicks quietly echoed through the office.

In the evening, when the heat of the day had subsided, a gentle breeze entered through the window gaps like a new guest. The face of the person staring at the brightly lit monitor was as expressionless and hard as a wax figure. Even the hands mechanically selecting and the eyes gazing at the photos on the screen lacked any sign of life.

He exhaled a long breath, resembling death. Tilting his head back, his slightly grown hair fell down. He even thought he should get a haircut when he had the time.

Closing his eyes, a face appeared in his visual lens as if it were right in front of him. It was a face he least wanted to see and remember. He wished his brain would malfunction. He hated himself for remembering the face of someone he didn’t want to remember. This torment without an exit began to dominate his thoughts as a massive lump of ideas.

Kang Taejung. What are you? Why did you make me hear such words from him? What did you say? How does he think of me? What kind of image did you show him? What did you two talk about? Why are you so cruel to me? Why…

Amid the endless stretching of resentful thoughts, other questions mingled with these negative emotions.

What was so good about him? What was so much better about him that you could leave our time behind? How could you be so cruel and harsh to me? Because you love him? His looks? His conditions? Pure emotions? Long waits? Then, what about me made you turn away? My selfishness? My vile heart? My perverse ideals? Unrealistic dreams? My job? My irresponsible and selfish mind?

His tightly closed eyes trembled with pain. These were questions with no one to listen or answer. They were extremely self-destructive, self-consuming, inefficient, and unproductive, truly garbage thoughts. The only result was a heart left with nothing but wounds. Even then, there was a complicated mix of guilt for resenting him while thinking such thoughts.

No, it’s my fault.

You did your best for me. I know you truly did your best. Because you did everything, nothing was left. How could I possibly equate your sacrifices, your waits, your anxieties over the past time? Despite knowing this, my selfish heart blames you every time I get hurt even a little. Human selfishness is so petty. That’s why I’m sorry and sad.

He covered his eyelids with his cold hand. Even the warmth in his eyes cooled down in the night air. From a distance, a faint sound like a distant drumbeat could be heard. Thump— thump, thump. A heavy pain, as if being hit with a fist or a hammer. Ha Joyoon knew well the identity of this pain. His long, thin eyelashes trembled with agony.

After blinking several times slowly, his focus finally settled on a point on the ceiling. Medicine. At the immediate conclusion, Ha Joyoon stretched his arm to the side, rummaging through the bag he had carelessly thrown on the desk. Even in this situation, he hated his body for not listening properly.

Click.

At that moment, a sound disrupting the quiet air made him turn his eyes. The tightly closed door opened, and a tall man suddenly entered the office. It was Shin Kwonjoo. A streak of light spread as long as the door he opened. After turning on the light by pressing a button, he scanned the empty office. “Mr. Ha Joyoon?” His voice, filled with curiosity, called out to him.

“What are you doing there? Why are the lights off? Aren’t you going to the after-party?”

To his question, Ha Joyoon shook his head in response.

“I’m not feeling well. I have to go to the hospital tomorrow too. And you…”

“Ah, I left something behind. I have plans too.”

Shin Kwonjoo answered without much enthusiasm, nodding towards the editor-in-chief’s desk. His well-tailored suit and stylish hair were well-coordinated, like a custom-made suit. An appearance anyone would turn to look at least once. A man who is as harsh in criticism as he is in capability. Undoubtedly, one of the greatest journalists… While briefly appraising Shin Kwonjoo, Ha Joyoon smiled slightly. That’s the kind of person who would succeed. Then, how does the world see me? Achieving nothing even after the injury, unable to even recover from a breakup. A truly shabby and stagnant life compared to your person.

“If it’s not urgent, just go home.”

“…Yes.”

My sex partner. Someone who knows my most primal parts, with whom I indulge in animalistic desires. The man whose naked, sweaty body I’ve explored countless times.

Suddenly, he felt an immense loneliness. He didn’t want to be alone. Today, really… he didn’t want to be alone.

Quickly gathering the things he had left behind, Joyoon unwittingly opened his mouth as the man walked towards him as if to pick him up.

“…Would you?”

“What was that?”

His thick, well-shaped eyebrows curved in question. As he got closer, his scent mixed with the smell of skin lotion, pressing on his lungs.

“Sunbae, would you not sleep with me?”

“Sleep with you?”

A variety of emotions quickly flashed across Shin Kwonjoo’s face. Was this man capable of such varied expressions? A bitter smile played on Ha Joyoon’s previously expressionless lips.

“…Are you protesting?”

With how he interpreted the proposal, Shin Kwonjoo’s forehead was deeply furrowed, his sharp gaze indicating his anger. At Ha Joyoon’s questioning look, Shin Kwonjoo irritably stuffed a document envelope into his briefcase.

“I don’t understand why you’re making such a request out of nowhere.”

Shin Kwonjoo, frozen like ice, pressed him coldly. What should he say? Joyoon quietly reviewed his chaotic thoughts. After a while, a trivial reason popped out without much care.

“It’s not like that. Just…”

His trembling eyes looked at the man with emptiness.

“Just, I don’t know what to do.”

Shin Kwonjoo’s face visibly hardened. His contorted expression spoke for his emotional state, but Joyoon didn’t know what else to add.

“That’s a pretty pitiful reason.”

“…I’m sorry.”

He didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t know who to be with. He didn’t want to be consumed by this agony alone. He wanted to be with someone, and right now, you were the only one he could think of. Because when engaging in that relationship, he wouldn’t have to think, just indulge in the body and pursue pleasure. That’s why he wanted to be together. Yet, all that came out was such pitiful words.

From the past until now, thinking that his way with words hadn’t improved at all, Ha Joyoon shook his head while lowering his gaze.

“I’m curious what kind of wind blew for you to say such things.”

“…”

“Who is it?”

Shin Kwonjoo pressed with a sharp tone. Even without asking in detail, Joyoon knew he was referring to the morning meeting. His question assumed they weren’t strangers. He was quick on the uptake. Faced with such a direct question without any filter, Joyoon pressed his lips together. He tried to act calm, but he couldn’t hide his trembling hands. “Hmm.” Shin Kwonjoo exhaled a low breath, lowering his long, sharp eyes, and spoke languidly.

“If you’re just going to say he’s someone you know, I’ll leave. I don’t have the leisure to listen to someone who’s just self-flagellating.”

It was a stern urging. Gathering his scattered gaze due to hesitation, his heavy lips slowly opened.

“…He’s the person my ex is dating now.”

“I figured as much. You suddenly came out with some bizarre request.”

He laughed in disbelief. For some reason, that made Ha Joyoon’s heart burn, but it was more from sadness than from shame. It felt like he was admitting the relationship between Seo Youngwoo and Kang Taejung with his own mouth. Accepting a breakup and acknowledging that your former lover has found new love are entirely different matters.

Suddenly, a memory of a summer night when the two kissed came to mind. There was a mix of embarrassment and apology in the expression, but Kang Taejung was there too, cupping the other’s face and slowly closing his eyes.

“But why me specifically?”

He asked, lifting his chin. After hesitating, Joyoon realized there was no point in hiding it from Shin Kwonjoo and spoke honestly.

“Just…”

“…”

“I want to forget.”

“Ha—” The man watching Ha Joyoon sighed, opening his mouth. His subtly furrowed face held the silence of impending explosion.

“Mr. Ha Joyoon.”

A voice cold as frost fell upon his head. Before Ha Joyoon could respond, Shin Kwonjoo quickly added:

“As I’ve said multiple times, I’m not particularly interested in other people’s private lives, nor in emotional issues. It’s true that I proposed the partner relationship to you for mutual enjoyment, but that was purely physical. I don’t want to get deeply involved in Ha Joyoon’s personal life or emotional matters.”

“…”

“I have no reason to take on emotions you can’t handle yourself.”

At his final words, Ha Joyoon lifted his head with his hands clasped. The man’s eyes, filled with irritation and displeasure, were directed at him without any filter. His gaze clearly showed anger at being used as a means to escape. When their eyes met, the man paused for a moment but then wore his usual expression like a mask and conveyed his remaining intentions.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear your proposal, so if you need someone for relationship advice, look elsewhere. Since it seems you don’t want to join the after-party, I’ll leave first.”

“…I’m sorry. I made a mistake. Have a safe trip home.”

“Mr. Ha Joyoon doesn’t seem in good shape either, so if it’s not urgent, finish up and go home.”

“Yes.”

He bowed and sat back down in his chair. Even though he felt the prickling gaze on his cheek, Joyoon had nothing more to say and returned to staring at the monitor screen.

Shin Kwonjoo watched him for a while longer before silently turning and walking towards the exit. The sound of his angry footsteps echoed unusually loud in the empty office. That sound felt like he was leaving Ha Joyoon, who then lowered his gaze and gave a bitter smile.

Bang—

The door closed with a loud sound, unlike when he entered, as if it were breaking. The few rays of light disappeared without a trace, casting a deep, dark shadow over the entire office. The person was gone, but the scent he carried lingered in the air. The emotions Ha Joyoon had barely tried to shape also scattered into the air with that loud sound.

Shin Kwonjoo’s words were not wrong. Even knowing this, he kept forgetting and somehow wanted some emotional empathy from him. Realizing the fear of emotional entanglement once more, Ha Joyoon focused on the selection work.

The monitor screen was particularly bright and harsh. His hands mechanically sorted through copies and originals, selecting what to upload to the intranet. His blinking eyelids gradually lost strength, eventually slipping away entirely.

“Ha…”

I want to leave.

Burying his face in his hands, Ha Joyoon cried silently. The hand stroking his forehead, eyes, and cheeks was filled with undeniable fatigue. The day felt as long as a year. A strong desire to escape surged like a tidal wave.

Where to?

But the following cold question made his heart crumble. Where could he go when there’s nowhere to go?

Suppressing his painful breath, he collapsed onto the desk. The pounding of his heart took over his ears. The headache he had momentarily forgotten reared its head. His dry eyes no longer held tears. However, the unexpressed emotions mixed chaotically like spilled paint, taking on a charred black color.

For a moment, Ha Joyoon felt like he was just breathing to live. He hadn’t realized before how hard and cruel it was to find meaning in life. He hadn’t always dreamt of a happy ending in life, but he thought he could handle pain and twists with more refinement and sophistication. But those ideals were just that—ideals.

Bang——!

At that moment, with a violent noise, the office door burst open. Before he could be startled by the sudden loud sound, the man he had just spoken with approached rapidly, his face full of anger. As the distance closed, Shin Kwonjoo’s distorted expression came into view, showing anger, impatience, and urgency.

Reaching him in an instant, the man roughly extended his arm. Grab— With the force gripping his forearm and the raw emotion expressed, Ha Joyoon was half-lifted from his chair before he could react.

“I didn’t want to get involved with you because of this…”

A voice compressed with anger escaped through gritted teeth. His breathing was much more rugged than usual, and his eyes, staring directly at him, were sharp as if they could cut through him right there. His body, forcibly raised, staggered.

“This is why I didn’t want to get involved with you.”

The grip on his arm tightened. The strength seemed like it could tear through flesh, dig into muscle, and shatter bones, vividly displaying his anger.

“Ah—!”

At the sensation of his flesh being torn, Joyoon grimaced and let out a groan. It felt like his skin, hidden beneath thin fabric, was being shredded by flames. The weightless chair hit the desk, scattering pens, documents, and the mouse, leaving them in disarray on the floor.

“Sunbae…”

A faint voice called out, but Shin Kwonjoo, frowning as if he didn’t want to hear it, ignored the call.

“Get up.”

“…”

“Get up properly. I’ll do what you want.”

Despite the calm and sharp tone, his face was a mess of anger and confusion, completely opposite to his usual composed and arrogant demeanor. Ha Joyoon couldn’t take his eyes off Shin Kwonjoo. The grip on his arm didn’t loosen with time.

“Sunbae…”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Sunbae, I…”

“Let’s go.”

After his short reply, he pulled Ha Joyoon’s arm again, forcefully. Without time to organize his belongings, Ha Joyoon, with only his old camera bag slung over his shoulder, was lifted by the relentless force. His stumbling steps, unable to match the pulling pace, were precarious, likely to fall at any moment, and his mismatched strides were a chaotic mess, making him pant.

However, one, two, three.

He finally took one step away from the dark, cold hell that seemed like an endless abyss. Though the thick, smelly liquid clung to him, the hand holding his arm never let go of Ha Joyoon. His wrist, marked by the red flame from the grip, trembled weakly.

His mind was strange. That Shin Kwonjoo had so suddenly accepted his nonsensical proposal was also strange. His eyes, filled with confusion, turned towards the man standing beside him.

“I’ll go. …No, it seems difficult. This weekend…”

The low voice, canceling some plans over the phone, deeply penetrated his already shattered heart.

You are strange.

Why did you come back? Why…

Staring at Shin Kwonjoo’s sharp profile, Ha Joyoon barely swallowed the rising heat.

A gaze filled with ambiguity, unreadable intentions, poured down on him. As the hand covering his neck, ear, and cheek applied force, his face was pressed even deeper into the sheet. Ha— Hoo— The hot breaths, indistinguishable from whose, crossed several times, again and again, in the same space. When the heated breaths finally merged into one, the cold fingers that reached through his hair to his scalp pulled at his head as if clutching it.

“Ah…”

His white back arched. Sweat dripped from his neck down his back, beading into hidden crevices. The stretched entrance, now red from several entries, indicated it had been allowed passage multiple times. As the intrusion went deep and then withdrew, the blue veins on his hands clutching the sheet became prominent. Overwhelmed by sensations as vivid as life, Joyoon tightly shut his eyes. The hand that had been holding his face moved lower, gripping his wet neck. Panting roughly, Ha Joyoon twisted in pleasure.

“Ha Joyoon.”

A voice, hoarse and low, tickled his ear.

“Ha Joyoon.”

The voice calling him again and again carried a heavier, deeper tone. Before he could respond, the withdrawal and reentry of the erection matched the pace. Strength gathered at his toes, bearing the weight of the sensation of his whole body being crushed. The white sheet crumpled and smoothed in the wake of their rough movements.

“Uh, uh, uh.”

Moans, like songs, scattered into the air with his shaking body. His mind, already losing reason, was being further scattered. The hand that had come down to hold his cheeks tightened, leaving red handprints on his white skin like stamps.

Shin Kwonjoo repeatedly spread and closed the cheeks he held, watching the entrance contract and expand with each release of semen, his eyes growing dense with lust. The body beneath him flapped weakly with the dynamic movements.

“Ha… you.”

Thud— Thud— The thrusting resumed, going all the way out and then all the way in. Muscles tightly contracted and moved dynamically. Sweat beaded on his skin. As he stretched his neck back, moans came out involuntarily.

“Ah, uh—!”

“Relax… your strength.”

The voice came out rough with irritation. His perfect forehead had long been furrowed. Wrapping one arm around his waist, pulling him close, Shin Kwonjoo was muttering curses. Although not understandable, the voice, full of displeasure, became Ha Joyoon’s companion as he leaned his sweaty head against his shoulder.

Despite the atmosphere of anger, Shin Kwonjoo showered Ha Joyoon’s body with small kisses wherever they touched. As their bodies pressed close, the erection and inner walls perfectly interlocked, heating up the room further. As his head turned painfully, his focus slowly returned to his hazy eyes. Tch, tch— The half-exited erection plunged deep. Ha— A deep, full moan escaped.

“You really have a personality that makes people angry… uh, you know that?”

“Ah— Ahh!”

His firm teeth bit down hard on the tender flesh between his neck and shoulder. It was a habit of his when he reached the peak of either emotion or pleasure. The white body, holding its breath at the sensation of being torn, flinched. He didn’t miss that moment, pulling out halfway and then thrusting in all the way before the entrance could close. With the sound of fluids being pushed, his limp body rippled like waves. The man, who had been rubbing his sharp nose against him or biting his earlobe, slowly continued his earlier words.

“You shouldn’t lose strength so soon.”

“Ah, uh…”

“Why. Wasn’t it Ha Joyoon who asked to sleep first?”

“Huh, Sunbae… uh!!”

Ironically, there was a trace of a wound in his harsh words, as if scratched by something. Whether the wound was to his pride or his heart was hard to tell. Shin Kwonjoo began to insert his erection, pressing around the entrance with rough hands.

He wanted to say something, anything.

“Ahh!”

A scream burst out as the unfulfilled desire twisted painfully with the sensation of narrowly missing the mark.

Ha Joyoon reached back, weakly patting Shin Kwonjoo’s waist. That’s enough. At his clumsy touch on his body, the man bit down on his lips as if to tear them apart, roughly grabbing both of his hands.

He seemed angry and impatient. Occasionally, he spat out insulting words, but he didn’t look in the least bit satisfied or relieved of his anger. His eyes, usually calm, shook greatly, unable to handle the incoming storm of emotions. At that moment, with a sudden recoil, Ha Joyoon’s white body bent forward helplessly. It was when the erection, leaving only the tip inside, was about to pierce his inner walls. Barely panting, Ha Joyoon opened his bloodless lips.

“I couldn’t think of anyone else. Only you, Sunbae…”

At the voice, now only white ashes from burning everything, the ferocious movements halted for a moment. His legs, unable to withstand the rough play, were trembling grotesquely. The relaxed inner walls were pouring out traces of their union, painting a bizarre picture.

“…I’m sorry.”

Ha Joyoon whispered quietly, rubbing his feverishly red eyes against the sheet. Shin Kwonjoo’s gaze, looking down at his sweat-soaked hair, shone coldly. Like how an extremely hot flame can give off a colder, more piercing light than Arctic ice, his black eyes emitted coldness.

“I’m sorry, Sunbae.”

The meaningless apology scattered without value. His long eyelashes trembled painfully. Silences filled with countless meanings converged. It was a moment where neither words nor movements were possible. But it was also a silence that said enough.

The strength slowly drained from the hand that had been holding his arm. That hand, momentarily lost, gently traced back over the spread entrance, the sweat-drenched groove, the spine, the shoulders, and the wings. The silent warmth felt in that small space spread deep into the skin, muscles, and bones.

“…Focus instead of talking nonsense.”

As the erection intruded, smoothing out the creases, all sensations danced throughout his body. Opening his tightly closed eyes, beneath the lush eyelashes, eyes filled with autumn gently emerged. An indistinguishable liquid, whether sweat or tears, dripped from between his eyelashes and cheeks. The strength in the other arm around his waist didn’t let go for a long time after.

“I hope there won’t be a repeat of today.”

This was the first thing Shin Kwonjoo said after finishing. Having realized his mistake, Ha Joyoon nodded without much reply.

“Don’t keep acting foolishly.”

It was unclear whether he was talking to him or himself. After looking at the floor thoughtfully, the man stood up. Watching his back, tightly packed with firm muscles, Ha Joyoon responded in a weak voice.

“…Yes.”

Though he felt the cold gaze, exhaustion came first. Overcome by the feeling of his whole body relaxing, Ha Joyoon put down the clothes he was holding and, with some hesitation, slipped into the blanket. The white sheet crumpled violently with his movements. Suddenly, struck by a thought, Joyoon, who had been lying with his eyes closed under the blanket, extended an arm through a gap.

“Sunbae, could you pass me my bag?”

“…Did you hear what I said?”

“…It’s too far…”

Although it was a request, it was clearly an errand. A cold irritation flashed over the eyes looking down at the bundle wrapped in the sheet. His expression clearly showed his disbelief.

“Go get it yourself. If you want to recover, you need to move diligently, don’t you?”

Despite the sarcastic tone, the man bent down and handed over the camera bag that had been carelessly dropped on the floor. As Ha Joyoon accepted the bag, he made an excuse that wasn’t really an excuse.

“…I have no energy at all.”

“You’re a mess, Ha Joyoon.”

With a cold laugh, he turned his body. The hostile air that seemed ready to part ways before they even got to the officetel had somewhat softened after hours of sex.

Was that a good thing?

The gaze that had been watching his back, which offered no room for negotiation, soon moved to his bag.

“I’ll go shower first.”

“Okay.”

The man, gathering some clothes, headed towards the shower booth in the bedroom. His footsteps on the carpet were heavy. Soon after the door closed, the sound of water hitting the floor was heard, like a summer rain soothing the heat for a moment.

A chronic lethargy began to spread through his body like paint. He was afraid of what kind of world would greet him when he woke up if he fell asleep like this.

While lying down with his ear against the sheet, listening to the sound of water, Ha Joyoon remembered something and lazily rummaged through his bag. After pulling out the camera and a small box the size of his palm, he lay down again, unable to fight off the fatigue.

Click.

Inside the box, which opened easily with a simple operation, were memory cards, each with different labels. Joyoon took out one with a blue background and cursive writing, inserting it into the camera. An open message appeared immediately, and he pressed the button. Checking the list that appeared, stories from a foreign land began to show one by one on the small screen.

“…I thought I wouldn’t find it.”

Most of the photos were of people bleeding, villages in ruins, cities frozen in time like still lifes, and expressionless soldiers, but among them were also natural landscapes he often captured while crossing borders. Though their lives were exposed to death, life wasn’t always painful. Children sang, begged for photos, and women seriously pondered what to cook for dinner for their husbands and children.

Suddenly, a warm feeling stirred around his neck. A breeze like longing tickled his eyes and cheeks. As he flipped through the photos, the emotions he had forcibly buried under these realities began to surge like a storm. These minor triggers reminded him of how much he loved capturing the world through his lens. However, it was a desire he could no longer pursue for the sake of his family. With a bitter heart, Ha Joyoon slowly pressed the button.

‘Are these the photos you took?’

When he first returned from covering a conflict zone, he had once spread out the developed photos across an entire room to sort them. This was the first question Kang Taejung asked when he visited his room while he was absorbed in sorting the photos.

‘When did you get back? Do you want to see the photos? I took these at the scene. I’ll explain them.’

‘Yeah…’

‘This place is…’

Taejung had always genuinely appreciated the photos he took. He was a supporter who viewed the photos with him, sometimes warmly, sometimes critically. When Ha Joyoon decided to further pursue the path of a journalist, he was genuinely happy that Ha Joyoon’s isolated world, tailored only to him, was expanding. There were times like that.

Because he was a lover who stood like an unwavering wall, quietly encouraging and supporting him, there was not a single doubt. Looking back, Taejung had been suffering ever since Ha Joyoon was quickly selected as a correspondent and chose the path of a war correspondent after a brief stint as a general journalist. Even though he knew this, at that moment, he mistook Kang Taejung asking if these were his photos for the Kang Taejung from high school who was interested in his photography. He didn’t realize how much that naive belief—that Taejung liked and was curious about his photos—could hurt the other.

The expression on Taejung’s face as he silently watched him explain each photo one by one was still vividly etched in his mind even years later, like it happened yesterday. A reality that could not be called beautiful, painful, bitter, and agonizing. The scene of cruel life. He hadn’t understood the heart of his lover who had to look at the photos taken at the cost of his life.

By the time he realized it and tried to clean up, it was too late; only the scars of his lover, whose face was contorted as if he might cry at any moment, remained.

He was immature.

Immature and foolish.

Kang Taejung was the first in everything for Ha Joyoon. Friendship, love, affection—everything was first with him. He learned everything from one to ten in his relationship with Kang Taejung, but he didn’t realize that Taejung himself was also experiencing everything for the first time. He thought of Taejung’s heart as vast as the sea, not realizing there was another world beyond it. Intoxicated by the sweetness Taejung offered, he didn’t notice that the sea surrounding him was gradually drying up. Even you were a beginner, even you could be immature and know nothing.

His past self was full of ignorance. However, ignorance could never be an excuse in any case. Cracks began to form on his expressionless face like wax. It felt like all the sealed emotions would burst out like a flood at any moment.

“Photos again?”

The sound of a tongue clicking low broke the thoughts that had sunk to the bottom. Shin Kwonjoo, now clean and dressed casually, walked over to the bed where Ha Joyoon was lying. His hand drying his still-damp hair was somewhat rough. Move aside. A low voice echoed.

“…Want to see?”

“Let’s have a look.”

Despite the tone suggesting he was tired of it, there was a slight hint of softness in his voice. Glancing at him for a moment, Ha Joyoon held up the camera slightly. It was to show it to the person beside him. He seemed to be sitting closer than expected as his shoulder gently bumped into Shin Kwonjoo’s chest. The refreshing scent of cologne naturally mingled.

“I received them this morning.”

“Hmm.”

“I thought they were lost… I was lucky. Some of my belongings were delivered.”

Nothing was found except for the memory card inside the recovered camera. With his body and camera completely wrecked, those two were all he had, but a few days ago, he unexpectedly heard from the embassy.

While he was receiving treatment, someone had kept part of his belongings, which were then unofficially delivered to Korea. Surprised by the unexpected news, Ha Joyoon rarely showed emotion as he ended the call. Inside the small box that took a long journey to return to its owner was his time, stopped at twenty-six.

“Give it here.”

“Here… you can look at them in order.”

“Hmm.”

Having settled down completely, he gently caressed Ha Joyoon’s neck while fixing his gaze on the photos. It was a scene from the Ain Tarma area near Damascus, Syria. The backs of women and children clinging to barbed wire, followed by refugees walking behind them, spoke of the desperate moment. Soon, the conversation ceased, replaced by a silence filled only with the sound of breathing. He then completely took the camera from Ha Joyoon and began to look at them seriously.

With each press of the button, the scenes of war on the small screen changed. A refugee family in a small rubber boat on the Orontes River at the Turkey-Syria border, boy combatants training in parkour, White Helmet volunteers gruesomely killed at a site where shells had fallen, the face of a refugee father who survived a capsized boat looking for his remaining family, the bodies of refugees seemingly asleep on the Greek coastal shoreline, a father wailing as he held his daughter’s hand who had escaped from between collapsed buildings due to shelling.

The gaze observing the increasingly horrific process of the civil war was sharp enough to cut. The voice of Ha Joyoon, quietly explaining the photos next to him, gradually faded over time. A strange silence, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, created a ripple. Time spent with Shin Kwonjoo was always like this. It was a completely different feeling from the comfort with Kang Taejung, where even his heart would feel lazy.

“They’re more explicit than the ones I’ve seen before.”

“The ones you saw before were mostly everyday shots taken just before the accident.”