BITM Ch22

“Being able to distinguish people by the smell of their breath is an amazing ability.”

“Even so… it’s not scientifically proven.”

“Just because it isn’t proven doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

The therapist gave a gentle smile.

“It seems like you have a sensitive nose, Naeyung. So, what does my breath smell like?”

Han Naeyung closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“A kind… smell.”

“You’re not talking about the aroma candle smell, are you?”

The therapist joked.

“No.”

“I’m glad you said that, Naeyung. How have you been feeling lately?”

“…Good.”

Han Naeyung fiddled with his gloves.

“You haven’t been having nightmares like before?”

“No.”

He lied. The therapy had only shown improvement initially; now, it felt like a pointless waste of time.

“I feel… much better.”

“Can I ask you one thing?”

“…”

“I heard from your father that you refused hypnosis before.”

After being adopted, Han Naeyung had gone through multiple counseling sessions at different hospitals, but his condition didn’t improve easily. Instead, he became more guarded over time. Han Sungkwon believed that the child had experienced unbearable pain and encouraged him to close the door on those memories. He hoped the hypnotherapist’s suggestion—to transform unwanted memories into simple nightmares—would work. The idea was to have the child recognize the traumatic memories as mere dreams upon waking up. 

The younger the child, the more effective the hypnosis, so Han Sungkwon wanted to try it as soon as possible. But the ten-year-old boy adamantly refused hypnosis. Numerous attempts were made, but it only worsened his condition.

“Can you tell me why you did that?”

Han Naeyung replied calmly.

“I’m the only one who remembers Jaemin… If I forget too, then it’s like he never existed.”

The therapist’s eyes quickly reddened. He closed his eyes to hide his emotions and took a deep breath to calm himself. Despite his extensive experience, this child’s past was overwhelming even for him. What had those monsters done to this child? The therapist felt a deep anger.

“Don’t cry. I’ve troubled you… I’m sorry.”

Han Naeyung pulled out a tissue and placed it on the table. This was the most comfort the boy with germophobia could offer. The therapist’s face contorted as he shed tears.

Years ago, a notorious child prostitution case dominated the news. Among the rescued children was a nine-year-old boy, and his sibling had died during the perpetrator’s capture. When the therapist first read about the case, he cursed the perpetrators as merciless butchers. Then, his longtime friend Han Sungkwon introduced his adopted son, who turned out to be the victim of that case. 

The whole truth had to remain a perfect secret. Even Han Sungkwon’s colleagues were unaware that his adopted son was a victim of the incident.

“Banguli is doing… much better.”

Banguli was the name of a three-legged Jindo dog. The therapist composed himself. Although he was supposed to comfort the boy, it was the boy who changed the subject to console the adult.

“I’m glad to hear he’s growing well.”

“I’m thinking… of becoming a vet.”

“A vet?”

“I want Banguli to live a long time.”

The therapist had suggested a pet to fill the void. To Han Naeyung, the Jindo dog was a stand-in for Jaemin.

“That’s a great idea. Does your father know?”

“Yes.”

Han Naeyung watched the flickering candle flame. The therapist had a kind smell. Previous therapists had all had unpleasant breath, which had only worsened his condition. However, even though the current therapist had a kind scent, it didn’t make Naeyung feel closer; it simply kept his anxiety at bay.

“Do you like the candle? Would you like to take one?”

“Doctor, I know. This can’t be fixed. It’s something I’ll have to carry for life. But… I’ll try to endure it till the end.”

Can I leave now? Han Naeyung asked with his eyes. The therapist realized his role was nearly over. Naeyung was right. Unless the past was forcibly removed, the trauma would follow him for life.

Han Naeyung stood up and bowed respectfully to the therapist who had supported him for so long. The therapist, refusing the gesture, gifted him an aroma candle.

Back home, Han Naeyung lit the candle repeatedly, watching the flame. It was a warm color and had a warm smell. He reached out as if to steady the flickering flame. Opposite him sat Banguli, instead of Jaemin.

He missed Jaemin terribly. Han Naeyung hugged the Jindo dog and sobbed.

‘My other half. Without you, I can never be whole. I have to live my life incomplete.’

As Han Naeyung’s tears fell, the warm, flickering candle flame went out. In the thick darkness, he curled up and cried silently.

***

When he opened his eyes, his cheeks and ears were damp. Nari was pressing her paws on the sofa, unsure what to do. Han Naeyung sat up and soothed Nari.

“It’s okay.”

It felt like he was telling himself that too. Only the lights in the examination room were on. It seemed Lee Seolhwa had adjusted them before leaving.

Han Naeyung picked up the fallen books and placed them on the examination table. Then, he pressed tissues to his eyes to wipe away the remnants of tears. It was already past closing time. Han Naeyung and Nari left the examination room.

The waiting room was bright with all the lights on. Han Naeyung squinted at the glass door. A man, his back to him, stood surrounded by white smoke. Nari recognized her owner and ran to the door, licking the glass with her long tongue. When the man didn’t turn around, she barked, asking to be noticed. Jin finally turned and shifted his gaze from Nari to Han Naeyung.

Han Naeyung slowly walked over and unlocked the door. Jin entered and spoke.

“Did you sleep well?”

Han Naeyung stood still.

“I got a message from the nurse. She said you were sleeping. And she left this.”

He showed a post-it note written by Lee Seolhwa.

“You could have called.”

If the hospital phone had rung, Han Naeyung would have woken up immediately. He reproached Jin out of guilt.

“I just arrived.”

Given the cold seeping into his coat, it was clear he was lying. Jin patted the excited Nari to calm her down.

Han Naeyung walked to the water dispenser and handed Jin a cup of green tea made with warm water. Seeing Han Naeyung without gloves made Jin happy.

“Seeing you, Dr. Han, I feel like all my fatigue is gone.”

He sat on the sofa and gestured for Han Naeyung to come closer.

“You didn’t take a sudden day off because you were sleepy. Did something happen?”

“…”

Han Naeyung sat down with Nari between them, looking at Jin. He sought the scent of Jin’s breath. A faintly sweet smell lingered.

“Don’t you want to talk about it?”

“I’m just… tired, so I slept.”

What was he hiding? By now, he could have shared a bit of his burdens. Jin gave a bitter smile.

“Prosecutor…”

He didn’t rush Han Naeyung, waiting for him to speak. The slow, deliberate speech reminded Jin of the boy he used to know, making Han Naeyung’s voice pleasant to hear.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“What will you give me in return if I do?”

He didn’t mean to impose an equivalent exchange. He simply wanted to see Han Naeyung’s troubled expression. As expected, Han Naeyung hesitated to speak.

“I don’t have much to offer.”

Not much money, no special skills. Jin could read Han Naeyung’s thoughts clearly.

“Just tell me the favor. I’ve always been in your debt, so this time, I’ll repay it.”

Han Naeyung stood from the sofa and walked to the examination room. In the quiet animal hospital, the sound of rustling paper could be heard. He came out holding a few documents. Jin examined the papers carefully. At the bottom was a seal from an orphanage, with personal information listed above. Seeing Jin’s expressionless face as he reviewed the papers, Han Naeyung felt as if he was watching Jin at work.

“I’ve started volunteering recently, and those kids ran away from the orphanage.”

“So?”

“Something about them bothers me… I want to know how they’re doing.”

“Have they been reported missing?”

“Yes.”

“Looking at the missing dates, it’s been quite a while. Some have even become adults. Well, I’ll look into it.”

Jin internally clicked his tongue. His questioning had turned into an interrogation. It was an occupational hazard that sometimes showed up.

“Thank you.”

Han Naeyung didn’t seem to mind.

The annual number of reported missing adolescents approached 20,000 cases. This was only an estimated figure; in reality, the actual number was several times higher. While the introduction of Code Adam had significantly reduced the number of unsolved cases of missing children, most reports of missing adolescents were due to runaways. Jin folded the documents and spoke.

“But what’s bothering you about this?”

“I’m wondering if it might not just be simple runaways.”

“That’s possible, but why are you so concerned?”

Jin stopped talking. He wondered when he had become so indifferent.

Missing cases involving orphans from welfare facilities often remained unsolved. Those kids were the same. He never stopped looking for those two, but he felt indifferent to the disappearance of others, causing him to feel a sense of self-doubt.

Was he any different from the police who ignored burglars until their own homes were robbed?

“What’s wrong?”

Han Naeyung’s voice interrupted Jin’s thoughts.

“Nothing. Just reminiscing.”

Jin raised his hand to stop Nari from showing too much interest in the documents.

“Nari… Are you taking her home today?”

“I have to.”

Jin wanted to ask if Han Naeyung would come to his place today, but he hesitated because of the favor. He had something else he wanted to say first.

“Dr. Han.”

“Yes.”

“You should consider attending a larger church. That neighborhood is quite dangerous.”

“…”

“Of course, it’s not that I’ve been snooping on you.”

Jin’s tone became defensive as he spoke.

“Church?”

Han Naeyung’s voice barely came out.

“Nuri Church, the one at the intersection.”

A sharp metallic noise deafened him, and a clear danger signal rang in his head. Han Naeyung averted his gaze to the floor.

“I was reviewing CCTV footage for an investigation and happened to see you there.”

Jin emphasized the “happened to” subtly, not even knowing why himself.

“It’s good to be devout, but that area has a high crime rate. There was a murder there recently.”

Han Naeyung recalled his actions captured by the CCTV. Entering and leaving the church, vomiting several times, and other unspecified activities.

“Dr. Han?”

His heart throbbed painfully. Cold sweat broke out, and heat surged from his stomach. Jin’s hand tried to lift Han Naeyung’s bowed head, but he quickly pulled away and raised his head. His pale face looked as if he might collapse.

“Are you sick?”

He dodged Jin’s approaching hand again. Jin’s hand hovered awkwardly in the air. He looked down at his own hand and laughed hollowly.

“What’s wrong today?”

“I’m still not feeling well.”

Han Naeyung staggered as he stood, his hands gripping the sofa drained of color.

“Should we go to the hospital?”

“No, it’s not that bad.”

I need to go upstairs and rest.

His red lips moved silently. Han Naeyung took off his coat without putting on his gown and immediately searched for the hospital keys. Jin watched silently.

What was so wrong that he needed to sleep? Or did Jin say something inappropriate? Before Jin could say anything, Han Naeyung spoke first.

“I’ll go.”

He omitted the “we” from his sentence. Han Naeyung, who went out first, waited for Jin to follow.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine after some rest.”

Han Naeyung had regained his composure. Jin felt a sudden chill as he looked at Han Naeyung’s calm face. His eyes, hiding behind a composed facade, were complex. It was still Han Naeyung he knew, but it felt like a mask had been added.

Jin recognized such masks well. He was definitely hiding something. His fingers twitched, and he put his hands in his pockets.

“Is it really just that you’re not feeling well?”

He was asking if that was all. Han Naeyung silently nodded.

“I’m leaving.”

Jin couldn’t hold him back with his squeezed voice. Han Naeyung’s pale face looked terribly exhausted.

“Contact me if anything happens. I’ll be waiting.”

Han Naeyung’s eyes twitched, but he quickly turned away and headed to the entrance.

“Nari.”

After Han Naeyung left, Jin called Nari. She tilted her head and scratched her face with her paw.

“Do you know why Dr. Han is acting like this?”

Nari seemed to want to tell Jin something but couldn’t, looking frustrated.

Of course, that couldn’t be. Nari wouldn’t understand his words.

Jin shifted his gaze to the animal hospital with its blinds not lowered. Han Naeyung’s voice echoed.

“God must exist. He’s just not on my side.”

It was the second ominous feeling after the thrown can.

***

It was careless. Han Naeyung admitted it. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The flickering sign light still seeped through the curtains, casting messy stains on the ceiling. He downed the lukewarm soju and sleeping pills from under the bed. Curling up, he pulled the blanket over himself.

“I like you, Dr. Han.”

He was seduced by that soft and sweet resonance. He let his guard down with someone who reminded him of Jaemin’s breath.

When everything was over and the truth came to light, that tender gaze would turn to revulsion. He would resent and blame me for using him as I pleased, leaving only scars. It was a trap. I was a trap for him, and he was a trap for me. Since that day, I couldn’t accept anyone’s touch, but he was special. He carried a nostalgic scent, like the older brother who effortlessly blended between Jaemin and me.

The sweet smell of candy. It was the breath of those who loved me. So you loved me just as much as they did. That’s why I couldn’t turn away. He was now the only sweet breath left in the world. The only breath remaining for me, who had lost Jaemin.

I don’t want to be weak. The anger and vengeance shadowing my back were still sharp blades. If left unchecked, those blades would end up stabbing me. Han Naeyung had to kill to survive.

But I don’t want your breath to change. He found me, wandering in the deep sea without a trace of air.

I rose to the surface, grasping his outstretched hand, but I had to let him go. Now, I had no choice but to sink back into the deep water. I finally understood why it could only be him.

Perhaps… my breath towards him was also like his.

Inside the raised blanket, uneven breathing spread damply.

***

That day was particularly cold.

“Hyung, it’s so cold my groin hurts.”

Jaemin shivered, and Umin’s face was bright red.

“This won’t do. Let’s go back.”

At Gyo Jin’s words, Jaemin whimpered.

“If we go back, we’ll get in trouble. We’ll get in big trouble. I’m scared of the director. He might break our legs.”

“Umin has a high fever.”

“Hyung, are you sick?”

Jaemin’s small hands cupped Umin’s face. Umin forced a smile.

“I’m fine.”

“If we go back, we’ll be separated. I can’t live without Umin hyung. Don’t be sick.”

“Wait here then. Don’t go anywhere and stay right here. I’ll get some medicine.”

“Okay, I won’t go anywhere and stay here.”

Gyo Jin ran through the piled snow, leaving the kids behind. His old sneakers soaked through without him noticing as he searched for a pharmacy. He only had 500 won in his pocket.

After being turned away by the pharmacy owner, he resorted to begging people with frozen hands. Or more accurately, he begged the people and customers in the red-light district.

He had to run a long way to the bustling streets to avoid people who brushed off the shabby-looking kid. No one gave him money. He decided he had to return to the orphanage, even if it meant getting beaten severely. It was then that he saw a boy about his age pulling money from a round wallet to pay a fish-shaped pastry vendor.

The boy handed the pastry to his mother, who smiled warmly and used her hands to communicate. The boy mimicked her hand movements. They were using sign language.

Gyo Jin bit his lip. They couldn’t call out if I stole their money. Without thinking further, he snatched the wallet from the boy and ran. He ran without looking back.

It’s late, too late. I need to hurry back.

He bought fever and cold medicine from the pharmacy that had turned him away and rushed back to where Jaemin and Umin were supposed to be. But when he got there, no one was there. This can’t be the place. I must have gotten the location wrong. Just as Gyo Jin turned to search elsewhere, he saw a candy wrapper at his feet. It was the candy he had given the boys before leaving the orphanage.

Seeing the candy wrapper covered in snow and mud and the crushed candy, Gyo Jin frantically ran through the alleyways, calling out their names until his voice was hoarse.

He ran so hard that he lost his shoes but found nothing. He returned to the original spot, helplessly dropping the medicine packet, staring at the only traces left behind.

***

Jin’s gaze fell on the asphalt. The medicine packet that had fallen that day was nowhere to be seen now. Twenty years ago, this area was a red-light district; now, it was filled with entertainment bars. The orphanage they had disappeared from was just a 15-minute walk from here.

With a child’s sense of direction, it took more than an hour to cover the distance. The outside world, seen from the perspective of small children, looked like a maze. They had no idea they were in a red-light district. Jin remembered his own naivety, thinking they could return after spending just one night outside.

It was only the second time he had returned here since his assignment. The place where he had searched for the boys daily after losing them had transformed into an unfamiliar space, highlighting the passage of time. The director, more concerned with covering up his mistake, hadn’t even reported them missing. He merely beat Jin harshly when he returned, pleading for help to find the children. Jin pressed his hand against the spot on his chest where it still hurt.

He avoided coming here because it only brought bad thoughts. At one point, he even considered the worst possibility—that the boys might be dead. If they had been found dead, they would likely have been processed as unidentified bodies.

The winter he became a prosecutor, Jin checked all the unidentified child death cases. Fortunately, there were no reports. He felt relieved, hoping they were alive somewhere. It was no exaggeration to say that he became a prosecutor because of them.

Jin touched the documents in his pocket. If not for Han Naeyung’s request, he wouldn’t have come here. Although the teenagers listed in the documents were likely just runaways, he had no intention of taking Han Naeyung’s request lightly. There was a sense of desperation in his voice.

He headed towards his parked car. A tout with a bow tie followed him.

“Sir, since you’re here, why not have some fun? Our girls are top-notch.”

Ignoring the tout, Jin frowned as the man blocked his way.

“Hey, sir. Don’t be like that. Do you have a specific type you’re looking for?”

The tout kept pestering him, raising his voice.

“Our girls are as good as any in the top ten clubs. Just take a look, and if you don’t like them, you can leave anytime.”

The tout showed no signs of giving up, continuing to prattle on.

“The prices are reasonable, the girls are pretty. There’s no place like ours. No rip-offs.”

Jin strode past the tout, who cursed under his breath.

“Asshole, acting high and mighty when you’re just here for some fun.”

Jin turned back and approached the tout again, who scratched his head and tried to look innocent.

“Give me your business card.”

The tout brightened up.

“If you’re short on money, we can put it on your tab—”

“Business card.”

The tout pulled a tacky floral-patterned card from his pocket and handed it to Jin.

“Call us anytime for the best service.”

Whether he ignored the earlier insults or didn’t care as long as he got business, the tout smiled obsequiously. Jin snatched the card and continued on his way.

Once in his car, Jin examined the card for a phone number and location. Normally, he would ignore such things, but today, he felt no inclination to be lenient. He took a photo of the card and sent it to a detective he knew at the local precinct. Then he sat in the car, watching the storefront.

About ten minutes later, a police car arrived, and three officers went inside. The tout was hastily making phone calls. The sight amused Jin. Back when he had filed a missing persons report with his adoptive mother’s help, the world had been far from kind.

“Do you think missing persons cases are rare? You’ll never find them, never. They’re orphans, right? Not even blood-related. Just give up and move on.”

The officer hadn’t even looked at them while speaking. Now, with a prosecutor’s badge, they responded immediately. It was a tragicomedy.

If only they hadn’t been lost in a place filled with people gathered for debauchery…

Jin lit up his phone. Thinking Han Naeyung might be asleep, he didn’t call but sent a text instead.

Are you okay? If I made a mistake today, I apologize. Please contact me anytime. I’ll be waiting.

Even after sending the message, there was no reply for a long time. He gripped the steering wheel tightly.