WANL Ch 23

Hyunjae stood in a corner of the emergency room, feeling anxious and unsure of what to do. He realized he might have been forgotten, so he began stopping the busy staff passing by to ask about Nanyeong—what was happening to him and which room he had been taken to—but everyone ignored him.

Just then, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“You were with him, right?”

The person speaking was the paramedic who had brought Nanyeong in earlier. He seemed ready to leave now.

“Thank you for earlier,” Hyunjae said, standing abruptly and bowing in gratitude.

The paramedic shook his head. “Oh, it’s just part of the job. By the way, were you with him?”

“Excuse me?”

Hyunjae asked back, his face a mix of seriousness and confusion. The paramedic sighed.

“I mean, were you using with him at that house?”

The vague question made Hyunjae frown. The only thing we did together was have sex, he thought, but surely that wasn’t what the paramedic meant.

Then, lowering his voice, the paramedic whispered, “Drugs.”

Hyunjae’s eyes widened in shock, and the paramedic furrowed his brows, seemingly gauging the situation from Hyunjae’s reaction. Hyunjae could only gape at the unexpected question.

“I… No, absolutely not… nothing like that,” he stammered.

“You had no idea?”

“I… don’t think so.”

Hyunjae clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. The paramedic let out a light sigh.

“That’s usually how people around them react. Anyway, I’ll be filing a report. Don’t worry—if you truly didn’t know, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Even after the paramedic left, Hyunjae couldn’t bring himself to leave the emergency room.

About twenty minutes later, he saw a large man in a suit hurrying across the hallway into the emergency room. A nurse, who seemed to have been waiting for him, quickly led him to another floor. Hyunjae recognized the man—Nanyeong’s secretary, who often brought him essentials, clothes, and alcohol at his request.

The night stretched on with no end in sight. Hyunjae sat on an uncomfortable chair, repeatedly dozing off and waking up. By the time dawn broke, he still hadn’t heard any news about Nanyeong.

“If you want to visit, you’ll need to submit a request. What’s your relationship with the patient?”

When Hyunjae finally tried to ask about visiting, the receptionist eyed him warily, clearly hesitant to let him into the VIP room. In the end, Hyunjae left the hospital empty-handed, his head clouded with worry and exhaustion.

Entering his apartment after punching in the familiar code, the cold air greeted him.

He stood in the entryway, staring at the silent house for a long time. Everything was just as it had been. The blanket Nanyeong used to curl up in still retained the shape of a body, and the small table still held the remnants of the ramen they had last shared.

Hyunjae sank to the floor, overwhelmed by the whirlwind of events. He couldn’t shake the image of Nanyeong clutching his stomach in pain, his face unnaturally pale.

“Were you using with him? Drugs.”

The paramedic’s voice echoed in his mind, along with the memory of Nanyeong calmly admitting to using drugs.

If it were true, there would be evidence left in the house.

Swallowing hard, Hyunjae began searching, starting with the shoe cabinet.

Although Nanyeong had stayed in the house for a considerable time, he had brought very few belongings. Still, in a home filled with clutter, anything intentionally hidden would be hard to find.

After scouring the house, Hyunjae finally discovered a strange envelope behind the refrigerator. He had reached into the space absentmindedly and felt something crinkle.

What’s this?

Inside the envelope, which resembled packaging for prescription medication, were individually wrapped pills bundled tightly together. Hyunjae examined the white pills through the crinkling plastic, confusion spreading across his face.

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[Taeryang’s Third-Generation Succession Concerns Finally Resolved]

[Third-Generation Succession Confirmed: What’s Next for Vice President Seo Nanju?]

[Family-Run Taeryang: Seo Nanju’s Leadership Secured]

It had been four days since Seo Nanyeong had been taken to the hospital and placed in a VIP room. Hyunjae had heard nothing from him.

All this time, Hyunjae had been hiding in the dark room, repeatedly typing “Seo Nanyeong” into the search bar without purpose. Every article on his phone screen already bore traces of being clicked. Staring blankly at the purple-tinted news links, Hyunjae eventually scrolled back, searching for an article he hadn’t read yet, and clicked on it.

[Last year, Taeryang Group announced a business restructuring and immediately promoted Seo Nanyeong, Executive Director of Taeryang Solutions’ Strategic Planning Division, to Senior Executive next month, marking the beginning of the third-generation succession. The intent is to simplify the complex governance structure and focus resources on the next successor.

However, following the restructuring, there was widespread opinion that it was not just groundwork for succession but a test for Seo Nanyeong. To prove this, this year, Chairman Seo Geumdo promoted Seo Nanju to Vice President…]

Judging by the timing, this had happened while he and Nanyeong were still seeing each other.

The three siblings, who were contenders for Taeryang’s next successor, seemed to have done their best to gain the trust of their father and the board members from their respective positions. Among them, the only son, Nanyeong, was undoubtedly the strongest candidate for succession. However, for some reason, within half a year, Seo Nanyeong was completely sidelined as a successor.

As Hyunjae wandered through the information, he soon came across a YouTube video by journalists sharing behind-the-scenes stories about succession battles in chaebol families. It was a long, 30-minute video.

The names that came up most frequently during the discussion between the two journalists were, of course, Seo Nanyeong’s.

― Seo Nanyeong has consistently received this kind of evaluation. He lacks ambition compared to the founders or the older generation. He’s good at doing what he’s told but isn’t proactive, making him unsuitable for a businessman’s personality. This isn’t much of an issue when he’s just an executive in the company, but as a chairman, you naturally start to wonder: Can my son handle this massive company after I’m gone? Does he have what it takes? It seems those doubts were inevitable.

― Wasn’t Seo Nanyeong a bit of a model student type?

― Yes, but then that incident happened a few years ago, the one that greatly disappointed Chairman Seo Geumdo.

― Oh, the divorce.

― Yes. From Taeryang’s perspective, it was a very significant business alliance—essentially a strategic marriage—but Seo Nanyeong divorced for personal reasons. They didn’t even have children. But I heard that the couple’s relationship wasn’t even particularly bad. There weren’t any significant disputes that would typically lead to divorce.

― It’s strange it ended in divorce. Usually, marriages of convenience don’t lead to that. They just live as show-window couples.

― Rumor has it that Seo Nanyeong had severe mental health issues. He might have been rotting inside while living the model student life, doing everything he was told, even the marriage.

― Wow, living such an enviable life yet under immense stress?

― Exactly. In fact, I’ve often seen him at press events when he was a regular face at the company. Before stepping out to meet the reporters, he’d always take a sedative or something similar. If he couldn’t even endure a marriage with ideal conditions, Chairman Seo probably started doubting his son’s capabilities, realizing he was much weaker than expected.

― There’s quite an age gap between him and his siblings, right? He’s the youngest by over ten years, isn’t he? Still only thirty-one… very young.

― Yes, not just young—practically a kid.

― It’s both pitiful and ironic. Who are we to worry about a chaebol heir?

At that, the journalists burst into laughter. “Exactly,” they agreed.

Hyunjae paused the video at that point. His hardened face reflected on the screen, overlaid with the cheerful faces of the journalists.

A life relentlessly judged by others, even by his own parents. It was a story from a world so distant that Hyunjae couldn’t even begin to empathize with it.

He hadn’t known about the sedatives or the mental struggles. Nanyeong had never shown any signs of it around him.

Was it because he was someone who could thoroughly control himself? Or was it because, when they were together, he genuinely forgot his sadness?

Unconsciously, Hyunjae wished for the latter. At the same time, memories of how harshly he had treated him came flooding back.

Most articles discussing his future had ended months ago. Unlike his sister, the newly appointed successor, who was actively engaging in external activities, Seo Nanyeong seemed to have disappeared from the media entirely.

Hyunjae couldn’t shake the feeling that he might have been the one holding him back. The guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. Had Nanyeong given up everything preemptively, overwhelmed by stress over a photo that didn’t even exist?

“Hyunjae, why don’t you just sell the photo to Jihoon?”

What state of mind had he been in when he said that?

Hyunjae’s eyes fell on Nanyeong’s neatly placed shoes by the entrance. He hadn’t even been wearing them when he was carried out on the stretcher. Then his gaze shifted to the empty whiskey bottles near the sink. He recalled how Nanyeong only seemed cheerful when drunk.

Finally, Hyunjae’s eyes lingered on the high-end audio system that Nanyeong had brought into the house.

Hyunjae moved closer to the speaker while sitting on the floor and, with a few adjustments, played a song. The music that Nanyeong used to enjoy began to flow.

He felt empty. Hugging his knees, Hyunjae buried his head. The drafty room was cold since the heating wasn’t on. In the chilly space, the only thing he could rely on was the blanket Nanyeong had lain under. Although it had been four days since Nanyeong left, the blanket still held his scent.

And Hyunjae didn’t touch a single thing Nanyeong had left behind until the waves of emotion finally subsided.

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The day Hyunjae took the college entrance exam was unusually warm.

Even though he had taken the test without much expectation, just for the experience, Hyunjae was a mess that day. He struggled with even the basics, perhaps because he hadn’t properly reviewed any mock tests since graduating. Forgetting essential items like a watch and a lunchbox was just the start; he mismanaged his time so badly that he submitted his answer sheet without reviewing the questions he had solved.

At lunchtime, he made do with a single banana he had brought just in case. After struggling with the Korean language section without checking the time, he started glancing frequently at the clock on the classroom wall while tackling the subsequent sections. Although he adjusted to the test as it went on, his growing hunger made it increasingly difficult to focus.

Still, he was intensely focused while solving the problems.

Hyunjae had always loved math. The joy of discovering a solution and encountering beautifully clean formulas was exhilarating for him. He was equally fond of earth science, a subject many students avoided because it was challenging. Hyunjae, however, didn’t care much about what was advantageous for the exam; he simply enjoyed immersing himself in the small spaces of the questions, reading and imagining fragments of the universe.

When he submitted the final answer sheet and the bell rang, Hyunjae quietly packed his bag and was the first to leave the bustling classroom.

Outside the school gate, an unexpected crowd had gathered. Hyunjae’s steps slowed as he noticed them.

“You did great! It’s all over now.”

Nearby, someone’s voice reached him. A male student in a school uniform looked sheepish as he hugged his parents. Amid the crowd of families reunited at the gate, one student held a large bouquet, beaming and saying it was unnecessary.

Hyunjae slipped through the crowd, finding a gap to escape.

The bus stop wasn’t far from the school. The bus home was due in nine minutes. Sitting at the stop, staring blankly at the road, Hyunjae found himself thinking about Nanyeong.

It had been weeks since he was taken away in an ambulance.

Last night, Hyunjae had tried calling him. He didn’t necessarily want encouragement; he just wanted to use the exam as an excuse to ask why they hadn’t spoken, to strike up a conversation.

But the message “This number is no longer in service” left him clutching the phone for a long time.

Not once had he called when he could have, and now, as if to mock him, Nanyeong had vanished entirely. The thought of being unable to reach him anymore left Hyunjae feeling hollow.

Perhaps it was inevitable. If Nanyeong decided to distance himself, there was nothing Hyunjae could do. While Hyunjae’s world was open to anyone, Nanyeong’s world was closed off. His home, his office, even his car and favorite restaurants were inaccessible to ordinary people. He could completely avoid anyone he didn’t want to meet.

The moment Hyunjae couldn’t prove he was a guardian and was immediately pushed aside at the emergency room was proof of that.

There were countless reasons for Nanyeong to leave him. When he had kept him close, Hyunjae had never been kind. He had engaged in cruel sex, hurled insults, and been critical. Every one of those moments now came back to haunt him with regret.

Perhaps Nanyeong truly intended to disappear from his life entirely.

Hyunjae thought, with a somewhat blank expression, that it was fitting.

The bus he was supposed to take had already passed three times. He remained lost in thoughts of Nanyeong—the way he descended the stairs of the old villa, his coat draped over the shoulder without a cast; the pale hand brushing water through his hair after a rough encounter; his profile as he sat in a spacious lounge, gazing out the window with a weary expression; the vulnerable way he curled up in Hyunjae’s kitchen, indifferent to his crumpled white shirt.

The face that had hugged him tightly, unable to bear seeing him cry stupidly at the words, “Let’s end this.”

Now, Hyunjae wondered if those fleeting moments of emotion from Nanyeong had been genuine. But he also knew his place. He knew that emotions alone couldn’t take responsibility for everything. Unlike himself, who had nothing to lose and could throw himself into things recklessly, Nanyeong had too much to lose. The notion that Nanyeong might choose him simply because he was momentarily shaken was a childish delusion.

So, he couldn’t afford to lose his sense of reality.

“You have plenty of options. Pick someone good.”

Hyunjae remembered Nanyeong’s indifferent face as he said those words.

“I’m shallow. Just as you said, I’m vulgar and petty. I can’t give you even a hundredth of what you want.”

Stripping away that cold demeanor, Hyunjae realized that from start to finish, Nanyeong had been speaking for his sake.

“Falling for someone again feels unbearable.”

Why had he only realized this now? To say such words—it was a sign.

“I’m sorry.”

A sign that he had already given his heart to someone.

The faint tears in Hyunjae’s eyes cooled in the cold wind. The students who had also taken the exam and had been scattered nearby were now gone, leaving no one behind.

“Hu… huk.”

Even now, Nanyeong felt like a distant planet. For the orbits of two stars to overlap and collide was an event that could only happen by pure “accident.” After the collision, which left harsh scars on both, the time had come for each to drift alone through the quiet expanse of space until their lives ended.

The word “first love” still sent a physical chill deep into his bones, but perhaps that was something everyone learned to endure with tightly shut eyes.

In the ocean where the asteroid had struck, a deep, wide crater had formed. The gaping void in the deep sea was filled again with billions of gallons of water, masking the wound on the surface. Hyunjae wondered if everyone who had experienced love carried such scars deep within their hearts. Did a scar like that remain in Nanyeong’s heart too?

Perhaps it was the thought of Nanyeong’s unfathomable depths—ones he would never reach—that left Hyunjae aching.