WOP Ch 2.4

“Sorry, did you go grocery shopping?”

“Yeah, I went to the market to make a delicious dinner for my son.”

In her nagging voice, there was an undeniable affection that made Joyoon listen closely without realizing it. Bowing his head slightly, he listened to his mother’s worried murmurs, and then turned his gaze to a distant presence. Taejung seemed even more unfamiliar and distant compared to the summer night when they met after five years. Joyoon suddenly felt the relativity of time.

“By the way, Yoona, I met Taejung on my way here. It’s been months since I last saw him.”

The woman, seemingly remembering her companion, hurriedly grabbed her son’s arm and turned halfway around. Likewise, Kang Taejung, holding plastic bags filled with side dishes in both hands, was dragged along and stood between them. His expression was inscrutable.

“……”

“……”

An eternity of silence passed. Heavy eyelids gradually lowered until they were fixed on the dusty ground.

Suddenly, the right cheek that had been hit began to throb. It was phantom pain. The dry cheek twitched slightly. Although he knew the gaze was directed at him, Ha Joyoon could not lift his head. Eventually, the woman, sensing the strange atmosphere, grabbed her son’s arm and lightly shook it.

“Why are you two so awkward? Did you have a fight?”

“……”

“Mother….”

One responded with silence, the other with a troubled call. Realizing the situation, Hyesun looked up at her son. Behind his indifferent and expressionless face, an unmistakable melancholy was hidden. She remembered how her son’s speech had drastically decreased and how he had become depressed in late summer. Oh my. A short, surprised gasp escaped her lips.

“What could you two possibly fight about? You’ve known each other for ages….”

Hyesun scolded her son, whose expression had completely stiffened. Although Joyoon’s brows furrowed momentarily, her words continued softly but firmly.

“Yoona, are you upset with Taejung? But you shouldn’t fight. When you disappeared, Taejung went through so much trouble. He put his job aside and searched for you. We were so worried that we even banned him from our house because we thought we might lose another son.”

“…Mother, I…”

Preventing Kang Taejung from approaching with a flustered expression, she continued.

“Your dad, Junghye, and our whole family are grateful to Taejung. He tried to get help from everywhere, running around while we were mentally breaking down, thinking we had lost you. He even visited your school Sunbaes and colleagues.”

Hearing about his lover’s efforts during his unconscious period from a third party felt indescribably strange. Taejung’s youth, which could not be compensated or returned, weighed heavily on him. The guilt that had been crudely covered up now opened its ugly jaws. Taejung was just as broken and lost as he was. Both had suffered equally. Knowing this, Joyoon struggled to hold onto the fading emotions and finally spoke.

“Mom.”

In his dark voice, Hyesun grabbed her son’s hands. Though the weather was cool, his hands were as cold and stiff as ice. Thinking of her son who had recently become more gaunt and had barely been eating, her heart ached like a burning fire. Although she spoke for Taejung’s sake, her heart also ached for her son.

“Go inside.”

“Why now? Taejung is here too. You know you shouldn’t do this.”

“I know. I know very well….”

Recently, Joyoon had slightly improved, but seeing her son so weak and depressed pained her deeply as a parent. He had given up the photography he loved and either locked himself in his room or exhausted himself by staying at work for days. She hoped that reconciliation would lighten his mood. To her, it was a natural thought that any mother would have.

“Even if you’re upset, you two should talk it out.”

Ha Joyoon merely nodded silently at her concerned touch, lightly tapping his hand.

“I’ll go inside first. You two talk. Taejung, have dinner at our place tonight, okay?”

“Yes, Mother, please go ahead.”

Taejung answered with an awkward smile. Smiling with a dimple only on one cheek was one of Kang Taejung’s habits to get through difficult situations. Just by looking at his expression, it was clear what he was thinking and feeling. He must have been worried about causing more concern.

After his mother went inside, Joyoon took a heavy step forward. The physical distance had shortened, but neither could meet the other’s eyes. It felt as if an eternity had passed in just a few months, creating an awkward atmosphere.

“Don’t worry about what Mom said.”

It was Ha Joyoon who spoke first. He felt Taejung’s gaze as he moved. It saddened him that they were so familiar with each other’s presence that they didn’t need to confirm who it was. Joyoon smiled faintly, still unable to meet Taejung’s eyes.

“Come over for dinner sometime when I’m not around. I usually come home late at night and am hardly around on weekends, so you can check with my sister. My parents are very grateful to you and wanted to see you. Even if I’m uncomfortable, they are not.”

“……”

“Get in touch next time.”

Even though the relationship was over, not all human connections built over the years could be severed instantly. Even if he tried not to think about it, as long as there was someone who remembered Taejung, he would suddenly come to mind during everyday conversations. Unplanned attacks were even more painful.

How can everything end just because love ends….

Unconsciously rubbing his cheek, which bore the scar of separation, Ha Joyoon turned his back. He hadn’t expected a conversation, so Taejung’s silence didn’t surprise him. Even knowing this, the pain in his shattered heart was oddly intense. He covered his mouth, struggling against the urge to vomit, and closed his eyes tightly.

“Yoon-ah.”

A voice calling his name stopped him after a few steps. The cool autumn breeze blew gently. As he brushed his hair away from the wind, Joyoon turned his gaze. Under the sky that looked like it had carried the blue sea, his empty heart swayed precariously, unable to find its footing.

“Is the pain better?”

Taejung’s voice was filled with concern. But before he could be moved by his sympathy, Joyoon had to desperately fight the intense urge to shatter any mirror he found. It would surely reflect his grotesquely twisted face in detail. He never wanted to show this ugly side of himself to Taejung.

Unable to find a suitable response, Joyoon covered his eyes. His cheek, hidden behind his hands, trembled slightly. Whether it was hate or love, he couldn’t be certain of his feelings anymore.

Step by step—

The approaching footsteps made his body tense up. A voice, cruelly gentle, followed.

“Are you properly going to the hospital?”

“……”

“Your rehabilitation….”

“Taejung.”

In a voice that seemed ready to fade away at any moment, Joyoon called his former lover. Just saying the name was painful and difficult enough.

Though his voice was small, Kang Taejung stopped speaking and waited for Ha Joyoon’s reply. They had a habit of conversing at a slower tempo, giving and receiving answers with plenty of time. His clenched hand trembled painfully. With the little courage he had left, Joyoon answered in a trembling voice.

“You don’t need to worry about that anymore. I’m fine.”

“…Yoona.”

“And I still can’t talk to you properly yet. I’m… too…”

His breathing became irregular. Joyoon clenched and unclenched his chest, lowering his gaze to the ground. The cold asphalt seemed to mock his weakness, heralding a chilly afternoon.

“I said some shameful things to you before… I still can’t face you. But with time, I will be fine. This has nothing to do with my parents, so please visit them when it’s convenient. Don’t worry about me.”

The suffocating heat had long since passed. Under the brilliantly clear blue sky, only an awkward silence, as wide as the distance between them, remained. This seemed to be the outcome between him and Kang Taejung, and the taste at the tip of his tongue was incredibly bitter.

Having finished speaking, Joyoon turned away from the now silent figure. Some days are excessively long. On those days, he had to find something to escape the pain again. He had just taken a step toward home.

“Yoona.”

“……”

I wish you wouldn’t call me that. Your lingering kindness is nothing but a memory. The name you call is buried in your past and belongs to someone who is already dead.

His lifeless eyes turned toward Kang Taejung. In his colorless gaze, Taejung’s movements, trying to reach out, came to a halt.

“Earlier….”

Though months had passed, his tender voice still pained Joyoon. Taejung, who had been about to speak, closed his lips firmly after a few more attempts. It was as if there had been nothing from the start, a stubborn silence.

Joyoon, not stable enough to continue the conversation, didn’t ask further. He didn’t have the strength to see Taejung’s regretful face anymore. The realization that he couldn’t make Taejung happy was more agonizing and made him feel more miserable than he had imagined.

The love he thought he had given his best effort was criticized as selfish, destructive, and made his partner sick and lonely. Now, he couldn’t confidently say any of his feelings were genuine or that he had given his all.

“I’ll go.”

With a faint farewell, he turned away. Until he opened the front door and stepped inside, he didn’t hear Taejung calling out to him again. The hope that he would be stopped faded away without a trace, as always.

Since his mother’s call the other day, Kang Taejung made an effort to stay at his parents’ house for at least a day on the weekends. Although Seo Youngwoo seemed a bit disappointed, he made up for it by meeting frequently during the week. Their relationship, without major conflicts, was maintaining stability. There was nothing in their ongoing life that posed a problem.

A stable relationship unaffected by anxiety. It was the kind of relationship he had always desired. His eyes curved in gentle arcs, but beneath them, his gaze was heavy.

Resting his chin in his hand, he tapped and spun the corner of his phone. Over time, he stopped, bored. As it spun on the table, the screen kept lighting up with messages. Taejung watched with a faint smile on his lips.

“Like a spotlight.”

“A spotlight?”

“A spotlight that glimmers on stage. Your phone never seems to rest. It flickers like a spotlight, always lighting up. You keep getting messages from people. It’s fascinating. Look at mine; it’s like night. Completely dark. Nothing.”

“Is it really that fascinating?”

The question, asked as if genuinely curious, made him laugh. But the questioner remained serious, staring at Kang Taejung’s constantly buzzing phone with curiosity. Those eyes were so beautiful. Like a boy just past adolescence, he couldn’t help but kiss him repeatedly. Once, twice, three times, each kiss sweeter than the last, making it impossible to stop.

“From now on, I’ll contact you more, so your phone will shine like a star.”

“That would be nice.”

A complete immersion in emotions for the other person. How else could he describe those feelings at the time?

Taejung held the cooling coffee cup and walked to the half-open window. The only lights illuminating the night were stars, street lamps, and the moon peeking between the clouds. Struggling to breathe through the constriction in his chest, he opened the window completely.

The cool autumn breeze gently entered the room. His tense heart relaxed a little. He sensed no movement in the room across. A scene, forcibly buried in his subconscious, suddenly surfaced.

…You were smiling.

Even from a distance, it was recognizable. Talking to someone, arms crossed. While feeling relieved at seeing Joyoon more at ease than the last time they met, a certain cowardly feeling arose within him. The shameful thoughts made him grip his cup tighter.

Who was it?

Taejung recalled the face of the man he saw a few hours ago. His appearance was reserved and masculine, and the atmosphere he exuded was anything but ordinary. Was he a company man or a friend? One thing was certain: Taejung didn’t know him.

Even though he tried not to think about it, his thoughts lost control, reflecting on the past and mocking him. The waves of torment that came rushing in were intense.

I was always surrounded by people. I easily mingled with others and enjoyed being with them. Unlike Joyoon, who valued time alone, our basic natures were different. Of course, this didn’t mean our differing approaches to human relationships affected our relationship. Absolute trust. The trust Joyoon and I had in each other was so solid that it wouldn’t collapse under anyone’s deceit.

Suddenly, self-mockery brushed by. Trust, huh. Taejung felt a newfound sense of loss. The tower of trust, once thought to be eternal, had been creaking for a long time. He had just been turning a blind eye.

It was his choice to end things messily. While parting ways couldn’t always be beautiful, the end with Ha Joyoon was unnecessarily messy and torn apart.

‘You don’t have to worry about that anymore.’

Those words, which flowed quietly back then, now pierced his ears like sharp blades. The result of his selfishness seemed to be fully revealed by Joyoon’s reaction. The smile that once bloomed like a warm spring was no longer there. Instead, what came to mind was Joyoon’s shocked expression when he first reunited with Seo Youngwoo and himself. It shouldn’t have been that way. He knew it. Even knowing this, he had made that judgment back then.

The reunion after five years was the border between dream and reality. From the moment Taejung saw Joyoon, he was engulfed in a fear that felt like his heart would burn and die. The guilt and shame for not being able to wait until the end were secondary emotions compared to the fear he felt in that moment.

The fear he felt when he hit rock bottom in life had imprinted itself on him psychologically, warning him he would never experience it again. He just thought he had to survive. Now he knew it was a petty excuse, but back then, that was how he felt.

It was like that back then….

Taejung eventually buried his face in his selfish thoughts. The past, where he whispered love and suffered from the absence of his lover, now seemed all hypocritical.

How amusing.

While wishing to forget you completely, I find myself desperately searching for traces of myself that still remain in you during those short moments. The fact that strangers might slowly gather around you was the first thing I realized, and it made me shudder with a sense of loss. How could anything be more selfish and hypocritical?

A strange laugh seeped out between the hands covering his face. It sounded like crying. The phone on the table nearby buzzed incessantly. His dim eyes slowly turned towards the source of the sound. One familiar name appeared on the screen. Seo Youngwoo.

“……”

The vibration didn’t stop, even as time passed. His hesitant hand soon moved towards the small device, after a brief silence. His darkened voice was perfectly masked by a few coughs.

“Youngwoo.”

— Hyung, why didn’t you pick up the phone?

“Sorry. I was talking to my mother.”

— Oh, then I’ll call you back later.

“No, it’s fine now. We’re done.”

— Hyung, today at our office….

As he lowered his head, his hair slipped down his forehead. Shadows formed intermittently under the bridge of his nose. Uh-huh, I see. A mundane conversation followed.

They asked about each other’s well-being, their daily routines, and discussed upcoming plans. It dawned on him again that all the things he wanted to do with Ha Joyoon, he now did with someone else. The things Ha Joyoon couldn’t do for him were now being done by someone else.

Like the spring rain gradually soaking in, Seo Youngwoo was always there when he looked back. Even while thinking otherwise, he found himself leaning on him for comfort and solace. It was painful when he realized that, even if it wasn’t Seo Youngwoo’s fault, his heart might have drifted towards him eventually.

Taejung managed a weak smile at the unbearable bitterness. His tightly drawn cheeks quivered. Unexplainable feelings of loss and guilt surged like waves. On the contrary, the large hole in his chest never seemed to fill, no matter how much water he poured in. However, with his head bowed, struggling to focus on the call, there was no way he could know the twisted smile on his face.

The world within the viewfinder is a microcosm of human affairs, recording all the joys and sorrows in their raw state, without any filters. Journalism values not just capturing moments but conveying the truth, and the records caught in an instant are remembered forever. Therefore, one must approach as closely to the truth as possible and record it exactly as it is. As long as you hold a camera and a pen, this is an eternal principle as a reporter.

For this reason, a firm hand is required when pressing the shutter. The scenes created by me would immediately become articles and spread across global media. Responsibility and a sense of duty are essential prerequisites, and there is no such thing as trivial news in this world.

[The Japanese government, on the premise of sincerely implementing these measures with the Korean government, has reached a fundamental agreement on this matter….]

Just like something printed from a machine, soulless apologies and forgiveness passed quickly. It was a scene wrapped up with instant-like emotions. In their remarks, there was no genuine subject deserving an apology or forgiveness. In the place of reconciliation, determined by mere signatures on paper, their expressions were void of any sentiment.

In this era of brutal violence and degradation, where wars are fought with pens instead of guns, some people struggle and resist while others chronicle their lives. Not just proud history but embarrassing history, too, must be recorded and remembered.

For those fighting lonely battles outside of public interest, Ha Joyoon sincerely framed the brutal diplomatic failure in front of him. Capturing every possible emotion, truth, gesture, tone, expression, and movement. So that this moment of history and record could last forever and be passed down to future generations. So that no one could excuse themselves by saying they didn’t know.

As Nam Hyunwoo left the Ministry of Foreign Affairs conference hall, curses kept spilling out of his mouth. Ha Joyoon, who was beside him, silently nodded in agreement. Their expressions were both dark and somber.

“Did you send all the photos?”

“Yes, I selected the necessary shots and sent them right away.”

“By the time we get back to the office, the distribution should be done. Reporter Ha, I’m in a bad mood, how about some drinks?”

“We have to cover more stories in the afternoon.”

“Nothing is going the way I want it to. Let’s just grab a simple meal.”

“Ah, Reporter Nam.”

For the first time, his usually expressionless face showed a hint of hesitation. Nam Hyunwoo, who was quickly sending article-related materials via his tablet, soon noticed and tilted his head quizzically.

“You planning to skip it?”

“Not exactly… A friend is also here to cover the story. They suggested we have lunch together. Is it alright if they join us?”

“Why make it sound so difficult?”

Before he could finish his sentence, Nam Hyunwoo burst out laughing and playfully patted Ha Joyoon on the back.

“Thank you. We agreed to meet on the way out.”

“Alright, let’s go there. Let’s have something delicious since we’re in a gloomy mood. Reporter Ha, you’re heading back to the office after the afternoon coverage?”

“Yes. The editor-in-chief called me.”

Nam Hyunwoo, reviewing his afternoon schedule, clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“That’s tough. Are you okay? Reporter Ha, you’re tougher than I thought.”

“If I couldn’t handle this, I wouldn’t be able to be a news reporter.”

“That’s true. You must have slept outside sometimes too, right?”

“It was a regular occurrence. Sometimes I slept right on the spot while waiting.”

“That really doesn’t suit you.”

“Ha ha…”

Nam Hyunwoo matched his pace with Ha Joyoon, walking beside him. Their conversation naturally filled the space between them, oscillating between distant and close. When Nam Hyunwoo spoke, Ha Joyoon either quietly replied or nodded, but even that was enough for the conversation to flow smoothly. The cool blue sky above, a refreshing breeze rustled through their hair, and golden ginkgo leaves, engraved with autumn, danced down to the roadside.

“Yoon-ah!”

A loud voice echoed from afar. Ha Joyoon quickly approached Song Jina, who was waving her hands from the road.

Seeing his long-time friend, Ha Joyoon couldn’t help but smile. As they got close enough to see each other’s faces, Song Jina raised a hand and mercilessly patted Joyoon on the back.

“Did you survive the water cannon?”

“Yeah.”

Unable to even utter a sound, Ha Joyoon rubbed his burning back clumsily, answering curtly. Seeing him like that, Song Jina’s gaze momentarily crumpled painfully. Though she spoke with a smile, recalling the last time they met still made her hands tremble. The sight of her friend lying pale and unconscious for a long time had made her fear he was seriously harmed.

“Those crazy bastards. I really tore into them with my pen that time. The newsroom said it was too radical, but I threatened to make a fuss on the internet if they didn’t publish it. Even the editor-in-chief gave in. Did you see? Did you see my article? Say yes, quickly!”

“Yeah, I saw it. It’s been a while since then… The tone was really strong. Didn’t you get in trouble? Are you okay?”

“…Yeah. And I wrote a statement along with the editor-in-chief.”

A deflated sigh was let out. Recalling those memories, she frowned and quickly changed the subject.

“You guys have already distributed the breaking news?”

Nodding slowly with a smile, he replied.

“There’s a restaurant I know nearby. Their spicy pork stir-fry is insanely good, let’s go there. Is that okay?”

“Sure. Oh, wait a minute, Jina. This is my colleague.”

It was an awkward introduction, with no subject or object. After a brief pause, Song Jina smiled brightly and greeted Nam Hyunwoo.

“Hello? Nice to meet you, I’m Song Jina from the international department of J Daily.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Nam Hyunwoo.”

“It’s nice to introduce myself this way. I look forward to sharing good sources in the future.”

“Ha ha- We’re sweating bullets here too. Reporter Ha and I have to fly out again in the afternoon.”

“Oh, how novel.”

After a brief exchange of names and a short handshake, Song Jina walked ahead of them.

“Follow me. I’ll take you to a great place.”

“Wow- I’m looking forward to it, Ms. Song.”

“Ha ha-”

Their lively tones lightened the atmosphere bit by bit. Knowing her jokes were for him, Joyoon felt even more grateful.

It took just over ten minutes to reach the restaurant, and the results of the recently concluded meeting filled the gap in their conversation. The heated debate over the humiliating agreement continued through the brick paths, across the crosswalk, and into the restaurant where they ate. The food, as promised by Song Jina, was quite delicious and appetizing.

“If they’re going to conclude it like that, they should’ve examined the optional clauses properly.”

“They didn’t take it seriously. So, they didn’t seek opinions in the first place. It’s more like ‘take it and leave it’- it’s embarrassing to even report on it.”

“You’re right.”

Their conversation matched well, both in topic and delivery. Amid the lively discussion, Ha Joyoon, who had been eating quietly, cleared his throat and stood up.

“Hey, Yoon-ah, what’s wrong?”

“I think something’s stuck in my throat. I’ll go to the restroom.”

“Take care of yourself, Ha Reporter. Aren’t you overworking yourself these days?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Please come back soon.”

Looking at Song Jina mimicking his tone, Ha Joyoon awkwardly smiled and turned his back, heading toward the bathroom. Watching his back, Song Jina suddenly spoke.

“Is Ha Reporter doing well?”

“Pardon?”

At the unexpected question, Nam Hyunwoo stopped his hand that was holding the soup and raised his head. Not knowing how to answer and rolling his eyes, the red lips urged for an answer.

“I was wondering if he is getting along well with people in the office.”

“Why is that…?”

“Because I’m worried. He returned too quickly, and his condition is not normal now. He is also quite shy.”

Not only the protest incident but also the conversation at their first meeting after reuniting kept bothering her. The dazed expression asking repeatedly how to get over a breakup was still vividly remembered.

After that, she had asked carefully several times, but Joyoon only smiled enigmatically, not talking any further about it. She just guessed he had gone through a hard time.

Understanding Song Jina’s explanation, Nam Hyunwoo nodded as if he finally understood and put down his spoon temporarily. Pouring water into an empty cup, he started to speak, recalling Ha Joyoon he had seen.

“If that’s the case, everything was settled when our director brought Ha Joyoon. He is free to receive rehabilitation treatment, but he doesn’t go often. He spends quite a lot of time in the office. Otherwise, he seems fine. He is not talkative, but he still gets along well with other employees.”

“Yoon? Really?”

“There are no other problems. He often attends gatherings and communicates well during work. He is quite popular among employees. As you know, Ha Reporter is good-looking. Such a rare face in our company.”

“He must have saved a country in his past life. But it’s a problem that he keeps wasting that rare face.”

Mumbling as a joke, Song Jina tapped the rim of the water glass with her hand. Nam Hyunwoo lightly shrugged in agreement.

“Don’t worry too much. In my opinion, Ha Reporter is a decent person. He never slacks off and works diligently. He is also very considerate. It’s rare to meet someone like him in social life. It’s hard to say he is close to everyone without any distance, but there are no employees who dislike Ha Reporter. Not that we have many people, though. Haha.”

“…That’s a relief. Please take care of him.”

“Haha, who am I to say that.”

Thank goodness, Ha Joyoon, you seem to be doing well.

Smiling softly, Song Jina recalled memories from long ago. Her relationship with Joyoon was always on a subtle borderline. Neither approaching nor avoiding first, it was just there. Even getting this close took considerable time and effort.

During university, Joyoon easily drew people’s attention without doing much. His mixed-race-like appearance and unique languid atmosphere made him feel different from his peers. Song Jina was also one of the group who wanted to get close to him. Looking back, she worked hard to stay in touch. If she hadn’t, they might still only remember each other’s names vaguely.

It could have hurt her pride, but meeting him didn’t particularly make her feel that way. She was curious about how he was doing and hoped he was living well. She didn’t know what this feeling was exactly. The Joyoon she remembered always seemed like his feet were floating in the air. His eyes were looking at places others didn’t see, emitting a different aura, appearing precarious. Watching him made her heart ache…

“Have you finished eating already?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I did.”

Returning to the table, Ha Joyoon pulled out a chair and sat down.

“What were you thinking so deeply about?”

His voice, quietly asking, resembled its owner. Still propping her chin, Song Jina smirked and pointed at him with her chin.

“Go and get three cups of coffee. Nam Reporter, would you like one?”

“Oh! No, I’m fine.”

“Then just get one for me.”

“Okay. Wait a moment.”

He didn’t frown even when he was asked to run errands without having time to sit down. Despite looking somewhat aloof, he was an innocent and kind-hearted person. You are so kind and gentle. Song Jina decided to put aside the worries that had disturbed her mind for several months.

❄

When Ha Joyoon returned to the office, the sky was already covered with the deep darkness of night. Checking the time past ten o’clock, he hurried to his desk.

Please review the files. Make sure to review them by tomorrow morning.

A post-it note stuck on a blue file amidst the scattered documents at the corner of his desk. He received a message from the editor saying they left early, but the hurried handwriting indicated it was quite an urgent matter.

Quickly scanning the numbered items with his eyes, Ha Joyoon pressed the power button on his desktop. Soon, the sound of the fan inside the case started to spin, and the monitor screen lit up.

“It will take a while.”

Leaning back in the chair, he felt the drowsiness and fatigue creeping in. The accumulated tiredness of the day was mixed with long breaths.

“Whew….”

The office was pitch dark because the lights were off, and the only light came from the artificial glow of the monitor. Slowly blinking his eyes a few more times, he felt the throbbing headache gradually increasing. Inserting a memory card and clicking the mouse a few more times, his hand movements visibly slowed down.

After pondering for a while, he stopped working and closed his eyes. Rubbing his roughened face in the dry air, the fatigue that had barely endured the day lingered on his fingers.

He made it through another day. The more physically exhausting it was, the clearer his mind became. Joyoon closed his blurry eyes and recalled the days he endured one by one until today. It became a habit over time.

He had managed to get through another day. The more physically exhausting it was, the clearer his mind became. Joyoon closed and opened his hazy eyes, reflecting on each day he had endured up to this point. It had become a habit at some point.

After breaking up with Taejung, every second felt like hell. Enduring a day was more frightening than torture. The twenty-four hours seemed like they would never pass, and the fact that another day to endure would come around was agonizing. Dozens of times a day, he’d have panic attacks, unable to believe he had really parted ways with Kang Taejung, clutching his chest and moaning. Just looking at photos they took together or items touched by him felt maddening, as if someone was tearing his heart apart. It wasn’t just a psychological feeling; it was a real, physical pain that felt like his heart might burst, eventually instilling fear.

Despite that, time marched on steadily. Even the pain that felt like it might kill him was slowly, ever so slightly, weathered away by the winds of time. It was both ironic and sad. As Joyoon gradually took in the reality given to him, he tried to broaden the focus of his life, which had been solely centered on Taejung and photography.

From that perspective, the breakup hadn’t ruined everything for him. It gave him a chance to reflect on what remained and what was lost at some point in his life. He awkwardly tried not to repeat the past where he only pursued ideals and didn’t look around him.

Though memories still occasionally surfaced to torment him in the middle of his daily life, one day…

Click—

The reverie that had infiltrated even his subconscious was instantly scattered and evaporated. Ha Joyoon jolted up from his chair at the noise that intruded on the space where even breathing was inaudible. The figure entering the office, surprised by the noise, also paused their slow movement.

“…Ha Joyoon?”

“Ah, Sunbae?”

“What are you doing without the lights on?”

Click. With the sound of the switch being flipped, the once dim interior brightened immediately. Squinting slightly at the sudden flood of light, Ha Joyoon noticed the man, dressed in a neat ash-toned suit and a classic trench coat, looking as impeccably styled as always. Whether aware of his tumultuous thoughts or not, the man’s expression remained unwavering.

“Why are you in the office at this hour?”

“There’s a planning meeting tomorrow; the editor-in-chief asked me to do something. We’re supposed to have a meeting with the event organizers this afternoon.”

“So you’ve been working until now?”

He asked incredulously.

“The afternoon coverage ran a bit late.”

As Shin Kwonju approached, Ha Joyoon started to recount his schedule, though it was of little use. The closer he got, the more evident it was that something displeased him. Out of awkwardness, Ha Joyoon kept averting his eyes until he couldn’t avoid Shin Kwonju’s piercing gaze anymore and reluctantly asked,

“What brings you here at this hour, Sunbae?”

“I have some work to finish too.”

The man, answering nonchalantly, took off his coat with a familiar gesture and casually draped it over an empty chair. Then, a paper bag in his hand caught Joyoon’s attention, seemingly filled with various snacks. Noticing Joyoon’s gaze, Shin Kwonju gave a short laugh and leaned on the desk.

“Did you have dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t look at me like you’re hungry.”

“…”

Even if he said otherwise, it was clear Shin Kwonju wouldn’t believe him. Trying to suppress his embarrassment, Ha Joyoon rubbed one cheek.

Thud.

Turning at the sound, he saw a sandwich and a drink placed on his desk, items that had been in the bag moments before. As Ha Joyoon tilted his head in confusion, Shin Kwonju smirked and rolled up his sleeves, revealing a sturdy watch with a skeleton dial that exuded a relaxed elegance reminiscent of the Mediterranean.

“Eat.”

“What about you, Sunbae?”

“I bought enough for both of us.”

With a rustling sound, another sandwich emerged from the bag. Even after two servings came out, the bag still looked heavy, suggesting there was plenty inside as he mentioned.

Contrary to his image of being meticulous about food quality, the items he brought were the kind you wouldn’t even find at a convenience store – cheap and shoddily made instant food. The incongruity made Ha Joyoon let out a faint chuckle despite himself.

Regardless of Joyoon’s reaction, Shin Kwonju pulled up a chair beside him, sat down, and leaned toward the monitor. The scent of his crisp cologne wafted over.

“Are these the pictures you took today?”

When asked while looking at the windows on the screen, Joyoon confirmed, and then Shin Kwonju began clicking around with the mouse. His hand, stroking his chin, was thoughtful as he gave a low hum. Click. Click. Following his familiar gestures, the mouse cursor moved, and multiple photos appeared and disappeared in sequence.

The people in the photos, befitting their status as representatives of a nation, were intellectual and dignified, yet they also displayed cunning, servile, and selfish traits. It was an ultra-realistic scene that could only be captured by directly observing and understanding the events and characters. Just as Shin Kwonju was about to express his admiration for the grotesque art-like photography…

“Good. This one…”

“Umm…”

Biting into the bread, Ha Joyoon’s eyes met his just as he took a big bite. The man’s previously stern mask twisted in an instant. The look of disdain in his pitch-black pupils was so evident that even Ha Joyoon, who was usually indifferent to others’ reactions, felt a slight sting.

After a brief hesitation over whether to chew or spit out what was already in his mouth, he quickly chewed and swallowed the sandwich piece.

“Didn’t you say you had dinner?”

At the incredulous tone, he hastily wiped his mouth and answered,

“…Just… since it was right in front of me… I got a bit hungry.”

“You would’ve cried if I hadn’t given you any.”

“I wouldn’t go that far…”

Answering with a gloomy face, Shin Kwonju chuckled and handed him the drink. Feeling even more downcast, Joyoon stared at it blankly until a firm finger touched his cheek, turning his head. Aside from shallow breaths, everything was silent. The touch on his cheek and chin was rough yet dry. Before he could even process what was happening, a familiar face came close. The eyes, so dark they could stop one’s breath, were there too.

…

After a brief silence, a slow touch on his lips quickly came and went. Pale eyelashes fluttered. The man had returned to his usual expression as if nothing had happened. As though it had all been a dream, Shin Kwonju’s eyes looking at the monitor again were perfectly calm.

Watching his profile, Ha Joyoon soon turned his gaze to the screen. His slightly chapped lips felt warm, causing him to bite his lower lip in pain.

“There was a foreign correspondents’ club meeting today.”

Shin Kwonju started speaking calmly. “Keep eating.” With the brief command, Ha Joyoon inadvertently brought the sandwich back to his mouth. Shin Kwonju’s gaze was still fixed on the photos.

“I’m not particularly fond of meetings either.”

Running his hand through his slightly disheveled hair, Shin Kwonju pressed his forehead. The fatigue that hadn’t been noticed until now seeped out between his sharpness. An awkward silence fell.

At times like these, the man would contemplate something, filtering his thoughts before voicing them. Having grown accustomed to this atmosphere over the months, Ha Joyoon quietly waited for his next words.

At that moment, the wooden blinds, half-drawn over the office window, swayed gently in the breeze. Through the small gap between the upper and lower slats, the neon signs of the city shone beautifully like colorful lights on a Christmas tree.

November. His eyes, gazing at the calendar, narrowed softly. Time passed so quickly that it couldn’t be grasped or contained, like grains of sand slipping through fingers.

“Let’s go together next time.”

The hand that had been casually swirling the drink stopped. In contrast to the slightly relaxed gaze, Shin Kwonju’s voice was serious and stern, devoid of any joking tone. Surprised by the unexpected proposal, Ha Joyoon looked up with startled eyes.

“I’m a bit…”

“I know you’re uncomfortable in such situations.”

The cold voice cut through hesitation like a knife.

“Taking photos is fine, but there will always be limits. You’ll often encounter situations you can’t solve alone. Haven’t you experienced that once already?”

He flinched at the sharp blade that seemed to expose his weaknesses.

“It’s beneficial to build a network of contacts as much as possible. If managed well, it will be more advantageous than disadvantageous. It’s time to break through that closed-off human relationship. If you keep doing things the same way, nothing will change in the future.”

Ha Joyoon’s hand, still clutching the glass, trembled. A long silence passed under Shin Kwonju’s piercing gaze. He did not rush for an answer either.

Ha Joyoon understood that Shin Kwonju’s words were not just those of a simple sex partner but those of a workplace superior and senior colleague.

Perhaps, as he had initially suggested, he might have a shred of pity for him. However, even if that were the case, he knew that no productive emotions should flow between them. Neither the man nor himself wanted that.

“…I understand. I’m just not used to it.”

“Then get used to it. Others can’t intervene in Ha Joyoon’s life. Even if they do, there are limits. How long do you plan to stay in Korea?”

The sudden question left him speechless. Korea, where Kang Taejung was, had always been a place Ha Joyoon had to return to, a reason to come back. But now, that reason had vanished. He had consciously tried not to think about the future, but he knew evasion wasn’t always the answer.

His eyes fluttered, mirroring his confused state of mind. Interpreting the silence as affirmation, Shin Kwonju continued with a cold expression.

“Now you’re here for rehabilitation, but honestly, I doubt you’ll stay long. Am I wrong?”

“…”

“If you want to keep doing this job, you should realize that staying content with the current situation and staying within your well isn’t very useful, don’t you agree? The next time you go to a war zone, it might really lead to your death. Whether domestically or internationally, it’s better to diligently work so that at least someone can be notified of your survival or death.”

“…”

“This time you were lucky to get in touch with me, but there’s no guarantee for next time.”

His eyelashes trembled as he looked down. Many thoughts seeped into his mind.

He reminisced about the comfort and happiness provided by one person. Dreaming and holding onto his convictions by feeding off the love of a warm, kind embrace, he hadn’t noticed that the love was drying up. Thus, his dreams grew shamelessly at the expense of his lover’s sacrifice. It was a punishment for nurturing ideals while ignoring practical issues.

Within Kang Taejung’s fence, Ha Joyoon only saw what he wanted to see and did what he wanted. But now, with that wall crumbled, he had to actively communicate with the world and make his convictions known. No one else would do it for him, nor did he want them to.

As night clouds spread across the city sky, partially veiling the silver moon, Ha Joyoon silently nodded.

“Tell me about the next meeting.”

Only then did Shin Kwonju laugh softly and muss up Joyoon’s hair. The neatly tied tie and the onyx tie pin caught his eye.

Suddenly, he thought it was beautiful.

“While you’re at it, you might as well sign up as a member.”

“I’ll decide after I go.”

“Don’t be unnecessarily stubborn. Even if it’s not just the association, engage with journalists from other companies if there’s an opportunity.”

“…Yes, I’ll try.”

With the matter concluded, he started to pack his documents and belongings with a much lighter expression. His hands were quite busy.

“When will you finish? Let’s go back together when you’re done.”

At his suggestion, Ha Joyoon glanced at the clock on the wall to gauge the time. It would take at least until dawn to finish. Was he trying to have a relationship again today? Lately, the frequency of their relations seemed too high, but he couldn’t find the words to refuse, so he trailed off.

“It might take some time. There’s a lot to do…”

Shin Kwonju, checking the time, twisted his upper body to meet his eyes with a stern look that wouldn’t tolerate excuses.

“I might take some time as well. Wasn’t it for the photo exhibition meeting tomorrow? They said they’d bring the proposal. What are you doing?”

“Yes. I was just going to prepare a simple portfolio and interview content.”

“Do you have an interview as well? Did the editor recommend it?”

“…Yes.”

He laughed in disbelief. As he affirmed, Shin Kwonju’s eyes crinkled with a more genuine smile. There was a sense of ease from someone enjoying life.

“Don’t stutter.”

“It’s not that kind of interview. It’s just a simple sketch format. …Don’t laugh like that.”

“Can’t I even laugh as I please? That’s an audacious look.”

When he frowned, Shin Kwonju reached out in a teasing manner, flicking his furrowed brow. His low laughter broke into pieces. It wasn’t the usual cold or sarcastic laugh but one of a mischievous imp, giving Ha Joyoon a strange feeling.

After a brief chuckle, the man stood up fully, draping his coat over one arm. The height difference was immediately noticeable.

“If you need it, take a look. This is the full version of the plan submitted by the agency. You probably received an abridged version.”

The stack of documents he handed over was quite thick. His glance over the cover and the names of the responsible parties was routine and mundane. He thought he recognized a name but didn’t pay it much mind and shook his head slightly. As a participating artist, not an operational staff, the summary was enough.

“I don’t think I’ll have time for that.”

With the succinct refusal, Shin Kwonju nodded without further insistence.

“Alright. Then let me know when you’re done. You’ll probably finish first.”

Shin Kwonju’s face returned to its usual finicky and cold demeanor as he began to tidy up. The scent of his cologne, reminiscent of the sea, mixed with the bitter smell of cigarettes, tickled Ha Joyoon’s nose. On the desk, sandwiches, drinks, and snacks that Shin Kwonju had brought remained untouched. Though it was an insignificant sight, his gaze lingered for quite some time.

“…Yes.”

He answered while rubbing his forehead where the sharp feeling lingered. Satisfied with the answer, the man moved to the office without any regret. The sound of his resolute footsteps echoed clearly in the empty office. Ha Joyoon watched Shin Kwonju’s back as he moved away from him.

The sound of the door closing brought silence to the room. The playful conversation from moments ago seemed like a lie as its trace vanished.

Through the half-closed blinds, glimpses of Shin Kwonju walking back to his desk appeared and disappeared. A man who was once someone’s lover and someone’s spouse. Joyoon took in the sight for a moment before turning his attention to the monitor. It wasn’t his part to play. The surface of his heart, which had briefly rippled, calmed down as if nothing had happened.

“Let’s focus.”

The screen was filled with photos taken that day. Thoughts adrift without direction floated aimlessly. At that moment, a cool breeze was felt. It was the night wind. Through the tightly shut window, the night air sneaked in, and Joyoon pressed his chapped lips against his knuckles. He felt his heart flutter oddly, though he didn’t know why.