WOP Ch 2.5

“Ah…”

A large palm covered his ear and cheek entirely. Unable to resist the pressure, one side of his face was deeply buried in the sheets. A thumb intruded between his lips, which were letting out a weak moan, sweeping over his teeth and tongue before pulling out. The finger, coated with saliva, sometimes tickled his earlobe, sometimes caressed his nape, teasing his feverish body. As the heavy sensation of penetration made his thin eyelids flutter, he barely opened his half-closed eyes, overwhelmed by the fatigue, only to see the man engrossed in the act. Contrary to his expectation that the man would keep his eyes closed, their gazes met fiercely through the wildly shining eyes.

“Ah…!”

“Hu…”

The sweat-drenched, powerless body was tightly embraced by another. His body, crushed by the tall figure, twisted in agony. “Sunbae-nim.” The faint plea vanished without a trace under a deep kiss. The friction of their skin was so hot that the heartbeat felt particularly clear between them.

“Turn your head a little.”

“Ugh!”

The connecting part tensed up. As it naturally tightened, the man’s previously straight brow furrowed, and his member thrust back in aggressively. Under the raw, vivid sensation, his dry chest panted.

Finally, the impatient man grabbed the cheek of the one beneath him, forcing his face towards him. The eyes, half-closed, blinked slowly under the coercion. The pale iris peeked and hid between the thick eyelashes.

Smack. Smack. Short kisses exchanged between the cheek and lips, and through the slightly parted gap, hot breath flowed in. The mingled scent of skin lotion was driving him insane. As Ha Joyoon felt the fingers running through his sweat-drenched hair, he suddenly noticed the occasional coolness between his scalp.

A ring…

Even amidst the fierce rubbing of bare skin, Joyoon slowly stretched out his hand, enveloping Shin Kwonjoo’s hand that was messing up his hair. The sensation of prominent veins, solid wrist bones, and long fingers was clear.

“Why…”

A voice, hoarse and twice as low, called to him.

“This…”

His fingers, wet with moisture, slowly traced over Shin Kwonjoo’s hand. At this clumsy gesture, the man, who had been stroking his waist with his other hand, stopped and watched the white hand feeling around his wrist and hand.

“What are you curious about?”

“Huh…”

“What are you so curious about?”

With the deep penetration pausing, a groan escaped from the one under him. Shin Kwonjoo’s lips curved smoothly as he observed all this.

“I need you to tell me.”

Leaning close to his ear, he whispered with a low laugh. Recognizing it as a truly mischievous and tormenting voice, Joyoon tightly shut his eyes to escape the sensation of being intensely invaded. The man seemed intent on not letting go until he got an answer, relentlessly pushing further. He was persistent. Waves of sensation came and went. Fragments of feelings for someone surfaced and disappeared just as quickly. It was just a moment.

“Drink this.”

“Thank you.”

After finishing the shower and returning to the bedroom, Shin Kwonjoo, now neatly dressed in casual attire, handed him a steaming mug. This was a scene that always repeated after their activities in his officetel.

From an old record player, old jazz from the ’70s, stirring nostalgia, was playing. The saxophone, scraping at the heart, the soulful voice rising from the depths, and the slow rhythm soothing the mind began to fill the space that until moments ago had been filled only with lust.

The bitter aroma of coffee tickled his nose. Joyoon sat haphazardly on a stool, touching the warm surface of the mug with his palm. The smooth touch of the marble tickled his feet.

The interior, embodying both simplicity and classic elegance, the small coffee grinder, the rich coffee scent, and the man naturally blending into it all had become quite a familiar sight. The man, in a comfortable attire not seen in the office, with disheveled hair, and his coffee had become excessively familiar. Initially, it was just a once-a-week visit, but at some point, it had become all weekends, and now, even on weekdays when their schedules matched, they frequently came here to share their bodies and cold warmth.

It’s not good.

He subtly tensed his hand holding the mug. He was afraid of having taken too many steps without realizing it. More than anything, he was aware of escaping from reality.

“Let’s open it for some ventilation.”

Shin Kwonjoo stepped onto the balcony connected to the bedroom, pressing a button. The warm wooden blinds automatically rolled up, and the window opened, transforming the once isolated space into one that communicated with the outside. Thanks to the clear sky, countless stars, not usually visible, were densely packed around the moon, shining white.

Ha Joyoon took a sip of the rich coffee and stared at the night that resembled the universe for a long time. The black and blue hue reminded him of the night he saw in the desert with its chilling wind. It was like longing, like memory. The thought of wanting to go back suddenly deeply penetrated his mind.

Where to.

Collie, where should I go?

The endless question was soon scattered by the familiar sound of footsteps. As the shadow darkened over his forehead, a large hand cupped his cheek. With the recoil, his head gently turned, and their lips met. During the brief exchange of kisses, the lingering taste of the coffee he had just drunk was transferred to the other.

“Dry your hair properly.”

A fluffy towel was placed on his still-damp hair. While pulling the towel down from his field of vision, Ha Joyoon silently watched the man sitting on the console. Noticing Joyoon’s gaze, Shin Kwonjoo furrowed his brows, then realizing it was focused on his ring, he let out a hollow laugh.

“Does it bother you?”

He asked, shaking his hand back and forth. Ha Joyoon, after taking another sip of coffee, nodded after some thought.

His thick eyebrows bent with curiosity. Ha Joyoon, struggling to find the right words, gave up and conveyed his feelings in his own way.

“It keeps touching my head.”

“…You worry about the strangest things.”

He replied in a nonchalant tone, lifting his mug.

“When did you get married?”

It wasn’t a question he expected an answer to. But since he had been curious for some time, he inadvertently blurted it out. Contrary to expecting Shin Kwonjoo to become serious or angry, he looked surprised, scanning Ha Joyoon’s face before setting the mug down on the console.

“Three years ago.”

Three years. It was a time that didn’t exist for Ha Joyoon. In this blank period where there was nothing to trace or infer, someone got married, someone parted ways, and someone opened their heart to new love. He tapped the edge of the stool with his fingertips, taking deep breaths. Nothing is more foolish than projecting one’s own experiences onto someone else’s love life. A dry smile lingered like a shadow on Ha Joyoon’s lips.

“And the divorce?”

“It’s been about a year.”

He briefly showed a complex expression before leaning his head, arms crossed. Shin Kwonjoo’s patience was surprisingly enduring. No one at the company knew about his marriage or divorce. It spoke volumes of how strictly he managed his private life, but also meant that no one had crossed his boundary.

He glanced over the books filling one wall of the cabinet. From recently published ones to old books bearing the marks of time, there were countless varieties. It was a space where a long history floated. The catalogs he occasionally saw were the same as his own, and for a moment, his eyes were tinged with nostalgia as he looked at him.

“I thought you were married because you keep wearing the ring.”

At this clumsy question indirectly asking about the reason for wearing the ring, Shin Kwonjoo burst into a deflated laugh and uncrossed his arms.

“There’s no grand reason. If I take it off after wearing it, everyone will ask like Ha Joyoon. Or they’ll be curious without saying anything. If that curiosity isn’t resolved, they’ll eventually come up with fantastical stories. Is there anything more unproductive than that? I don’t need to explain my private life to others, nor do I need to be understood, so I just keep wearing it.”

As he answered clearly, brushing back his hair that fell softly with the tilt of his head, his tone was much gentler than usual, but the words from his mouth were as cold as ever, causing a dissonance that made Ha Joyoon’s heart flutter.

Ha Joyoon felt a sense of déjà vu looking at Shin Kwonjoo’s emotionless face. The suffocating heat of a summer evening, Kang Taejung announcing their breakup, eyes where love had vanished. The emotion climbing up his throat lingered at the edge of his lips. The hesitation, which he swallowed and spat out several times in a short moment, was finally expelled as words without the last bit of patience.

“Won’t it hurt your partner to keep wearing it for such a reason, Sunbae-nim?”

Like Kang Taejung’s fixed coloring for over ten years, perhaps he was just continuing for a reason that was essentially nothing. The fear that his little hope might be ruthlessly crushed and mocked as a pathetic misunderstanding overwhelmed him with harsh, dreadful emotions.

“Well, I don’t think so.”

“Did you love your spouse?”

Unintentionally, his tone was accusatory. Shin Kwonjoo’s face quickly showed a look of annoyance at this.

“I don’t see why I should talk about such personal matters.”

“…”

“Are you really curious, or is this some kind of emotional projection? Do you suddenly feel sorry for my ex-wife? Do you see yourself in her?”

“…I’m sorry.”

It was an attempt to cross the line that the man had drawn. Ha Joyoon quickly admitted his mistake. The bond that had been clumsily intertwined shattered instantly. It was a clear mistake. Seeing Shin Kwonjoo talk about marriage and divorce like someone else’s story made him feel discarded, like he had become a piece of tissue paper tossed on the floor after wiping away semen. It was absurdly funny.

“Ha Joyoon.”

His name was pronounced gently in a low voice. Unlike his sharp reaction, Shin Kwonjoo’s expression was as composed and serene as ever.

“I quite like this relationship. Our compatibility seems better than I thought, and your personality isn’t bad either. I also like your photos. In many ways, I consider you a satisfying partner. It’s a pity that the normal workplace relationship has been broken.”

He explained the limits of their relationship in a soothing, gentle tone. His eyes, looking at the subtly smiling man, shone coldly.

“I want this relationship to last as long as possible. From experience, these things often end in a mess, so let’s be careful.”

As long as possible. At this vague definition, Ha Joyoon couldn’t help but let out a weak laugh. He hadn’t realized the extent of this artificially created familiarity from just sharing their bodies. As he finished the remaining coffee and placed the empty mug on the console, he suddenly realized that Shin Kwonjoo had never asked about anything other than his photography. Nothing beyond the act.

When his thoughts reached this point, the relationship between him and Shin Kwonjoo became clear again in his mind. It wasn’t something surprising, but his heart ached slightly. The line of caution had clearly blurred with the recent frequent encounters and the man’s slightly more affectionate demeanor. Holding his collar with his empty hand, Ha Joyoon nodded with a calm gaze.

“…I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

Shin Kwonjoo’s gaze, looking down at him, was filled with an indecipherable mix of emotions. His tightly closed lips moved slightly, though only for a moment. Of course, Ha Joyoon, lost in his thoughts, didn’t notice his reaction.

“Come here.”

“…”

Not knowing how to handle his unsettled emotions, Ha Joyoon hesitated, and Shin Kwonjoo patiently called him again. The man’s eyes, seeing Ha Joyoon standing still instead of coming over, carried an unusual ambiguity.

“Ha Joyoon.”

His voice, pressing down on his vocal cords, rumbled low.

At this voice that seemed almost impatient, Ha Joyoon ended up laughing. Impatience, of all things. Could there be a word less fitting for that man? Before his thoughts could deepen, a light grip on his wrist made his body move easily, like a lie. With the distance suddenly closed, his head naturally tilted back.

“Don’t overthink alone and get all down by yourself.”

“It’s not like that.”

“…I was also a bit harsh.”

By then, one song had ended, and the turntable was spinning quickly. The brass needle searching for another curtain of life wandered over the glossy LP. The round record pondered what sound to gift the guests in the room as it spun.

“I’m sorry too. I’ll be careful.”

“Don’t think too far ahead. You know I’m not saying you shouldn’t ask anything or be curious about anything.”

“I don’t think that way.”

“Your expression doesn’t say so.”

“…I’m just not feeling well.”

He looked at Ha Joyoon, scrutinizing him. A complex, subtle expression passed over Shin Kwonjoo’s face and then disappeared. After a brief hum, he held his chin, turning it to place short kisses on his cheek and lips.

“I don’t know what to do in times like this.”

A whisper mixed with fatigue tickled his ear. The touch was much gentler, but he knew it was a limited and temporary kindness directed only at those sharing their bodies.

A chaotic flow of warmth and coldness coexisted. As the sharp end of a pin reached some point, new music seeped through the stifling silence, spreading through the speaker.

At this moment, nothing came to mind. Not photography, not Kang Taejung, not even the man in front of him. It was a night where only the music that tickled the soul and the vast sky mattered. It was a truly fortunate thing.

❄

“Yoon-ah, there’s a package for you.”

The package arrived while Ha Joyoon was getting ready for work. His gaze, looking at the box, was filled with curiosity.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. It came on Friday with your name on it. You were out all weekend, so I’m giving it to you now. Where have you been?”

His sister’s scolding made Ha Joyoon smile as he took the box from her. The solid taping suggested the importance of the shipped item.

“Just here and there.”

“Are you going to keep giving such half-hearted answers?”

After giving a vague reply, he turned his attention to the box. His gaze, checking the sender and address, deepened with more questions. After a moment of thought, Joyoon began to carefully peel off the tape from the box.

Inside the box, once revealed, were several smaller boxes wrapped in cushioning material. His hands became busier as he unwrapped the packaging, tracing back his memory.

As the air cushioning fell off and the last piece of tape sealing the box came undone, his busy fingers suddenly stopped, as if by magic.

“Yoon-ah?”

Even his sister’s voice calling him from beside didn’t reach him. At that moment, Ha Joyoon was completely absorbed by the small boxes in front of him.

My God.

The exclamation swallowed silently touched his heart. The dead blood seemed to come back to life, spreading rapidly through his veins. Even the heartbeat, which had been inaudible, throbbed, signaling life. Ha Joyoon opened the tightly closed box with trembling hands. Click. With a small sound, the lid opened, revealing the contents.

At that moment, thousands, tens of thousands of emotions, memories, and scenes etched in his heart began to seep in at an incredible speed. Ambiguous feelings took on some form and penetrated deeply.

It’s back. After a long journey, it has finally returned to me.

His touch on the box was filled with undeniable yearning and fondness.

“Yoon-ah!”

His thoughts, which had been drifting aimlessly on the waves of time, were suddenly disrupted by the soft hand shaking his arm. Ha Joyoon, abruptly pulled back to reality from the past, blinked several times with a dazed expression. Only then did he realize he was standing in his family home in Seoul, with his beloved family in front of him. His tightly closed lips and determined eyes were filled with the resolve to get an answer today.

“What’s that? What are you thinking so deeply about?”

“Just…”

“Just?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?”

As she parroted his words, her cheeks slowly turned red. Knowing what she was worried about, Ha Joyoon gently touched her hair and smiled cautiously.

Even during their conversation, all his attention was focused on the gift he had just received. However, as if she wouldn’t allow the change of topic any longer, Ha Junghye grabbed her brother’s shirt and forced out words she had been holding back for a long time.

“Why are you like this lately?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why can’t you get a grip on your feelings? Huh? You’re out too often. Where have you been going?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be careful.”

“Is it because of Taejung? Are you like this because of him?”

“No…”

“Please get a grip on yourself now. Okay?”

The undeniable concern and worry for her family were evident in her voice. How could he not know it was worry based on affection? Trying to hide the pained look in his eyes, he gently removed his sister’s hand from his arm.

“Noona.”

His lips moved in a whisper. Under the light brown hair, his eyes were darkening. Her hand in his felt smaller and more fragile than he remembered. The same went for his emotions. Memories and longing package emotions into something different from reality, suggesting that perhaps memories might be more beautiful when revealed.

Holding both of Ha Junghye’s hands, Ha Joyoon quietly murmured.

“I’m trying too.”

“Yoon-ah.”

“I need time. You know that.”

It wasn’t just a year or two. They had been together since the moment he recognized another person’s existence. The sense of loss from a relationship that ended quickly cannot be compared to this. Moreover, the shame and regret of clinging to someone who had already moved on, even showing his worst self, still haunted him every night. Along with that, his role as a war correspondent and the direction he should go in the future were tangled into a confusing maze, making each day chaotic.

No matter what he chose, someone would get hurt. He was afraid and suffocated by the thought that all his actions and emotions would only hurt everyone but himself. It felt like everyone was accusing him of being selfish.

“I know, but…”

“…”

“I’m just so anxious… It seems like you can’t get a hold of your feelings, and you’re not coming home much… Mom and Dad, they can’t even ask you directly, they’re just suffering in silence…”

Ha Junghye alternated her gaze between her brother’s face and the package, trailing off her words. Her eyes, now full of moisture, blinked slowly.

Despite months having passed since returning to Korea, Ha Junghye was still anxious about her brother’s unsettled, half-floating demeanor. At first, she thought it was because of the breakup with Taejung, but as time went on, she felt an increasing unease that it might not be just that.

Even when they talked happily or had meals together, there were moments of silence from her brother, as if he was in another world. During those times, he would not speak or react, lost in his thoughts. And Ha Junghye knew very well from past experiences what that kind of atmosphere meant.

“You’re not thinking of going back there, are you?”

“…”

Frightened by his silence, Ha Junghye shook her head vigorously.

“You need to keep up with your rehabilitation. Didn’t you hear what the hospital said? You need to stay here, get treatment, and get checked.”

Her slender body trembled visibly with anxiety. The quiet eyes watching him also sank deeply into an unfathomable abyss. His choices always required someone’s sacrifice and sorrow. Like a parasite.

A moment passed where no one could speak lightly. Lips that had opened and closed several times finally pressed into a tight line. After a long silence, Ha Joyoon was finally able to utter a single word filled with a sigh.

“I know.”

“…”

“Don’t cry. I understand. Why have you become so emotional…”

He knew his short answer wouldn’t alleviate her anxiety at all. But with nothing else he could do besides patting her hand, he just smiled sadly, again and again.

The office, beginning a new week, was bustling with activity. There were desks focused on articles and distribution, others engrossed in proofreading and editing, and teams concentrating on selection tasks. It was a space where numerous tasks organically intertwined, forming its own order and atmosphere.

Despite the busyness, the air in the office felt slightly different than usual. This was because, aside from the administrative staff handling affairs, international journalists dispatched to various regions had gathered, mixing together for the first time in a while. Among the familiar faces, the strangers were probably correspondents working in places like China or Japan.

Recalling the editor-in-chief’s mention of calling photographers who had time for an exhibition, Ha Joyoon briskly headed towards the meeting room.

“Mr. Ha!”

An all-too-familiar voice caught the slow-moving Ha Joyoon. It was Nam Hyunwoo.

“Heading to the photo planning meeting?”

“Yes.”

“I’m planning to join as a reporter.”

“Ah…”

“The editor-in-chief recommended you for an interview, didn’t he?”

“No. That’s not…”

“Oh, come on, are you being shy again?”

The playful jab at his side with an elbow was full of mischief. Ha Joyoon smiled softly and shook his head again.

“No, really. It’s just that I was the only one in the office when they were deciding.”

“No way. Everyone knows that your coverage areas are all in conflict zones. The danger level is different.”

“Ha ha…”

His eyes curved into crescents from embarrassment. Knowing that there was no ulterior motive behind Nam Hyunwoo’s words from past experiences made responding easier. He didn’t mind the approach of this familiar person, and Nam Hyunwoo also treated Ha Joyoon with kindness, recognizing his acceptance.

For Ha Joyoon, who had lived by shutting out unnecessary relationships and others’ attention, this was, albeit awkward, clearly a small change. Their steps gradually synced as they continued their warm conversation.

“They said the department head will attend today’s meeting too. From the main meeting, only the editor-in-chief will participate, and the final decisions and contacts will be handled by the two of them.”

“Hmm…”

Recalling Shin Kwonjoo’s words about meeting during the conference, Ha Joyoon nodded quietly. Perhaps he really should keep things simple. No matter what choices he makes in the future…

“I wonder how far we’ll get in the discussion today.”

“Yeah…”

“They said there’s a planning meeting at the headquarters at the same time, so I’m not sure how this will go. When you look at it like this, it seems like we know nothing.”

“Indeed. All I’ve heard about is submitting photos and interviews.”

As they exchanged whispers, they had already reached the meeting room. Through the slightly ajar door, snippets of conversation could be heard.

“I think the agency people arrived first. The department head and the editor-in-chief were still talking. Other reporters are following us from behind.”

Nam Hyunwoo whispered, grabbing the doorknob and fully opening the door. In the spacious room, now cool without the need for additional air conditioning, they were greeted by the fresh air.

“Ah, you must be the reporters. We arrived a bit early.”

A man with a strong build greeted them first, offering a handshake. His subordinates stood up one by one following him.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Hello.”

With greetings, unfamiliar faces one by one announced their presence.

“…”

“…”

Their indifferent gazes moved slowly. And then, at one point, the eyes that had been faintly flickering stopped as if their breath had ceased. The same was true for his counterpart.

He had never, in a million years, imagined meeting him at work. With a round face, eyes drooping like a puppy’s, yet with hidden strength. Ha Joyoon knew the man standing before him well.

Seo Youngwoo.

Kang Taejung’s new love.

The one who stayed by Kang Taejung’s side while he was away.

“Hello. I’m Seo Youngwoo.”

“…”

“…Nice to meet you.”

Ha Joyoon looked down at the hand extended towards him, his breathing extremely subdued. His vision blackened, and his heart pounded as if about to burst. After struggling to claw his way out of the deepest despair, now he felt a despair like having both hands severed. Even trying to seem calm, his whole body trembled, and he couldn’t hear any sound as if his auditory system was damaged.

Wee- wee. A tinnitus so loud it felt like it would tear his head apart spread like a siren through his ears. He couldn’t move a single finger. Fragments of his eroding heart stabbed at his heart sharply. Suddenly, one cheek felt hot. It was a trace and evidence of the relationship severed by Kang Taejung’s hand.

You showed tears in response to my ugly begging.

I’m sorry, so very sorry….

An unprepared encounter was akin to violence. Fragments of memories clumsily tucked away flooded in to an overwhelming degree.

“We’ve been dating for about six months. Youngwoo confessed first, but… accepting him was my choice.”

“…Just someone I know.”

“Yoon-ah, Youngwoo isn’t someone who would meet you when you’re gone and leave you when you come back. He shouldn’t be like that either.”

“Like I was devoted to you before, now I want to be devoted to Youngwoo, not you.”

What did you say? Ah, yes, you said you had found someone else precious, not me. Accepting him was your choice. You wanted to be devoted only to him. Not to someone selfish like me who would leave at whim, but to someone who could always be by your side, bringing you stability.

Seo Youngwoo’s gaze, which looked at him through the crowd, clearly held meaning: anxiety and caution. Ha Joyoon couldn’t understand why he was looked at with such eyes. Hadn’t he taken everything? Hadn’t he not only taken half of Ha Joyoon, excluding the photos, but also claimed victory?

There was nothing Ha Joyoon could do in the face of an adversary openly showing hostility towards him. All he could do was turn away like a sinner, avoiding Seo Youngwoo’s gaze. He couldn’t bear to look at him properly, hiding his hatred and resentment, fearing his unrefined feelings would show in an ugly manner.

…sir.

…re…sir…

…Ha…

“Mr. Ha!!”

“…Ah.”

Roused by Nam Hyunwoo’s voice calling him, Ha Joyoon blinked hurriedly. His blurred vision cleared, and he was forcibly placed back into the harsh reality.

“What were you thinking about? You seemed completely out of it. Please sit down.”

“…Yes. Thank you.”

Nam Hyunwoo, with his easy laughter, led the man standing beside him to an empty seat. As other reporters followed and began to sit, the meeting room quickly filled with people.

A warm atmosphere was created with brief introductions, but only one person couldn’t adapt and felt out of place. Even though he sat down thanks to Nam Hyunwoo’s consideration, Ha Joyoon’s vacant pupils couldn’t focus and wandered aimlessly.

[Nice to meet you. I’m Ed Makkelen. You can call me Eddie.]

At the unfamiliar language, Ha Joyoon suppressed his fatigue and slowly turned his head. His scattered thoughts aligned with the man beside him: blond, blue-eyed, with freckles all over his cheeks. No particular name came to mind even after searching through his memories. He was probably a correspondent from another Asian country. Gathering his remaining strength, Ha Joyoon managed a polite greeting.

[I’m Ha Joyoon.]

[I know. I’ve heard about you occasionally. Are you working in Korea now? I’m stationed in Shanghai. Oh, do you remember Philip?]

Surprised by the familiar name, Ha Joyoon’s lips parted slightly. Forgetting the existence that had been suffocating him just moments ago, he turned towards the man who had introduced himself as Eddie.

[Do you know Philip? Where is he now?]

[He’s an old friend. He was in Khan Yunis, Gaza Strip, until recently, but we’ve lost contact now. We confirm he’s alive through occasional photos.]

The man winked one eye and casually offered a handshake. Ha Joyoon’s expression remained dazed as he took the man’s hand. It had been a long time since they last met, after crossing the Greek border at night.

Philip Bauer was a journalist who, amidst the beautiful yet most dangerous Mediterranean Sea, a boundary for refugees, took and shared photos of those risking their lives for survival, all too easily losing theirs.

Suddenly, he remembered their last night together. It was a rainy winter night with only old blankets, a campfire, and poorly flavored red bean cans, yet the conversation they shared all night remained vivid in his heart even years later. His eyes, reminiscing about the past, quietly lit up with nostalgia, longing, and a forgotten fiery emotion.

[Philip often talked about you. He showed me pictures you took together. I thought you looked familiar, so I decided to strike up a conversation, and I was right.]

[We traveled together for a few months when I was briefly in Greece.]

[He said you were a good journalist. He laughed at me for not knowing you even though we’re from the same outfit.]

[I was always curious about him, but I never thought I’d hear about him here…]

With a smile tinged with pain, Ha Joyoon trailed off. He was reminded once again of how time relentlessly moved on. If life is so unpredictable, he wanted to make every second count. At that moment, an unbearable self-loathing overwhelmed him.

What am I even doing here?

“Ah, the editor-in-chief and the department head are here.”

With some commotion, the previously closed door opened, and a group of people entered the meeting room. Following the kind-faced editor-in-chief was a man in a suit, giving off an incongruous air.

The man, who had stepped in with long strides, briefly looked at Ha Joyoon before quickly moving to his seat as if nothing had happened. His eyes showed no regret or longing, and his expression was utterly neutral and bland, disappearing in an instant.

The slightly chaotic atmosphere quickly settled, giving way to a brief silence for reorganization. The person who had led the atmosphere until then, now brightened his face and offered a handshake to Shin Kwonjoo.

“I’m Team Leader Lee Jong-seon from TnG Cultural Arts Planning Team.”

“I’m Shin Kwonjoo.”

After a brief, firm handshake, Shin Kwonjoo sat down. At his signal, everyone quickly began scanning through the documents in front of them. Ha Joyoon, too, tried to focus on the materials despite his tumultuous emotions. However, his efforts were in vain as not even a single letter registered in his mind. His conscious effort not to look at someone only further unsettled his mind.

“First of all, thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules. I understand we have journalists from countries other than Korea here. We’ve prepared interpreters, so please feel free to participate. Also, we look forward to your cooperation in the sketch interviews after the meeting.”

A few nodded in acknowledgment to Lee Jong-seon’s greeting. Ha Joyoon also nodded, trying hard to focus on the documents. After briefly reviewing the materials, Shin Kwonjoo rolled up his sleeves and gave instructions to the other side.

“Please briefly explain the intent of the exhibition, the general concept, and the direction.”

“Yes, we’ve prepared separate materials. Please look at the screen. Youngwoo, let’s start.”

“Briefly, please focus on the key points.”

Shin Kwonjoo’s sharp gaze scanned the documents. At his keen demeanor, someone from the planning agency quickly gestured towards Seo Youngwoo, who responded nimbly, running to the back of the room to turn off the lights and pick up the pointer.

Click.

With the sound of the button being pressed, various tables and texts appeared on the white screen through the warmed-up projector beam. After checking the first slide, Lee Jong-seon gestured with his chin towards Seo Youngwoo.

Seo Youngwoo hesitated for a moment before confidently stepping forward. He greeted the crowd and introduced the company with confidence and poise. He was everything Ha Joyoon was not: firm, passionate.

Even knowing it was unproductive, Ha Joyoon found himself comparing how they were different, which aspects were better. It was like eating his own flesh. Biting his lip without realizing, Ha Joyoon struggled to watch Seo Youngwoo.

“I’ll briefly explain the intent of this exhibition.”

His voice, with its pleasant tone, soon captured everyone’s attention. Soon, he adeptly went through the planning process and detailed schedules of the exhibition they were preparing. Seo Youngwoo’s speech, mixed with sophisticated humor and seriousness, made the complex planning procedures easy to understand. Even to Ha Joyoon, who was clueless about administrative tasks beyond photography, he seemed quite capable.

“This screen shows the structure of the exhibition we recently held. It might be useful for reference.”

As the slide changed, the screen displayed the recent exhibition by Weyton Communications. The structure involved organizing rooms by themes and assigning journalists to match those themes for displaying photos. Among them, the newsroom related to realism caught his eye briefly, but he couldn’t focus. The problem wasn’t his; it was entirely psychological.

Unconcealed anguish was scattered piece by piece over his pale face. Even the voice and breath of the other, the slightest gesture, hurt him.

Overwhelmed by the relentless, cruel pain, Ha Joyoon finally buried his face in his palms, hiding all expression. With his eyes closed, blocking out all senses, he did not notice another gaze watching him.

❄

The planning presentation ended in the most efficient manner in a short time. A brief Q&A session followed, easing the tension that had been present throughout the presentation, leading to a more relaxed conversation about the exhibition. Though Ha Joyoon wanted to leave immediately, he did not want to stand out, so he struggled to control his emotions. Even Seo Youngwoo’s fleeting glances and the movements of his lips, as if he wanted to say something, made Ha Joyoon want to escape from everything.

“You don’t look well, Yoon.”

At the concerned voice, Ha Joyoon opened his eyes slightly. It was Eddie. He smiled awkwardly and tapped his pen on a blank piece of paper.

“I’m just a bit tired. I’m not good at matching the atmosphere.”

“I heard you were injured quite badly. Philip was very worried.”

“Word got around, huh?”

“Still, I’m glad you made it back safely.”

The bitterness on his smile couldn’t be concealed. Eddie, I thought so too. I was glad to be alive. I thanked God. I prayed in gratitude for being able to see him again. But reality wasn’t as beautiful as I thought. It was cold and objective. I didn’t realize that the place I was missing was just an illusion.

Thoughts that couldn’t be spoken aloud floated in his mind. As Ha Joyoon scribbled new lines over the already scribbled paper, he tried to ignore his unstable emotions.

When he felt suffocated by the tightness in his chest and glanced away, he met the gaze that had been watching him from not far away.

“…”

“…”

He remembered the first moment he faced Seo Youngwoo. In the pitch-black despair, he could only look at Kang Taejung’s feet, the hands they held – the horrible memories also resurfaced. Could human memory be this cruel?

Unable to hide his pain, Ha Joyoon looked back at Seo Youngwoo who was staring at him.

The person who loves Kang Taejung. The person Kang Taejung loves. The one who stayed by Kang Taejung’s side. The one Kang Taejung said he wanted to be devoted to.

Hatred and resentment without form rose like acrid smoke. However, the seed of this flame didn’t even ignite, only leaving ashes to disappear because, in any case, he couldn’t claim he bore no responsibility.

It wasn’t just because of one person. It was the result of all emotions, reality, and circumstances combined. He understood that intellectually, but emotionally, he couldn’t fully grasp it. He envied and resented Seo Youngwoo’s eyes that looked at him straight, for seemingly having taken Kang Taejung’s heart entirely, leaving Ha Joyoon with nothing but Kang Taejung’s pity, sympathy, and the remnants of regret. That’s why he couldn’t even fully voice his resentment.

In contrast to Ha Joyoon, whose expression was contorting uncontrollably, Seo Youngwoo’s gaze watching him was extremely composed.

“Hello. Mr. Ha, Mr. Makkelen.”

A man suddenly inserted himself between Eddie and Ha Joyoon, extending his hand. Ha Joyoon furrowed his brow, trying to recall his name. Min Kyungsoo, that seemed to be his name.

“Hello.”

The man pulled over an empty chair, sat down, and handed out a business card with a cheerful smile. The company name, position, and name were printed on a simple design.

“Since the direction of the exhibition has changed today, the scheduled sketch interview will be postponed to the next session. Since it might be hard to see others again, we’ll take interviews first, but since Mr. Ha will continue to be in Korea, would it be alright if we schedule a visit for you separately?”

“That’s fine.”

“Still, next time we’ll go straight to the main interview without rehearsal, so it won’t take up much of your time.”

“…That’s fine.”

“Come to think of it, I heard Mr. Ha mainly covers conflict zones. You must have faced many dangers. That’s really impressive. It must have been a tough choice. We’ll do our best to highlight the significance of your work.”

These were words he had heard countless times. Ha Joyoon looked at the man with an indifferent gaze. Perhaps misunderstanding his silence, Min Kyungsoo began to talk about his own thoughts and values on covering conflict zones. His eyes, discussing the impactful news photos and journalists he had seen, carried a certain gravity.

Thanks to Min Kyungsoo’s lively nature, the conversation flowed smoothly even without long answers from Ha Joyoon. It was good not to have to worry, but even responding briefly became bothersome, and more than half of what the man said didn’t register. All he wanted was to rest. When he pressed his forehead due to the headache slowly rising, he heard:

“I heard you were in an accident.”

Though the distance was significant, the voice was distinctly clear in his ears. His eyes, tired, slowly moved towards the sound, and in the same motion, the dark eyes from far away also shifted.

“I heard you were badly injured…”

Seo Youngwoo, who had been organizing documents, spoke cautiously. At his words, Min Kyungsoo, sitting beside him, turned to Ha Joyoon with a start.

“Mr. Ha, then…”

“I was slightly injured at an airstrike site.”

“Oh dear. I was so inconsiderate…”

“It’s not something to worry about. I’m fine.”

No matter how much he tried to soothe him with a toneless voice, Min Kyungsoo’s expression didn’t smooth out. At the same time, sighs of sympathy came from here and there. The attention felt like sitting on a bed of nails.

He didn’t want to be pitied, even if just for a moment. He had acted according to his beliefs, and this was just one of the consequences he had to bear. He didn’t want to trade his time for others’ conversation like today’s event. As the questions continued, Ha Joyoon’s expression hardened like lead.

“Are you okay now?”

At Seo Youngwoo’s question, Ha Joyoon tilted his head slightly. Seo Youngwoo was still looking at him directly. His eyes, which revealed no emotion, were hard to read, and the intent behind his question was unclear.

Suddenly, he remembered Seo Youngwoo sitting next to Kang Taejung, watching him with an anxious gaze throughout the conversation, mixed with a sense of superiority for being there with Kang Taejung. No matter how unfamiliar he was with relationships, he and Seo Youngwoo weren’t at a level where they would ask about each other’s well-being.

“I’m fine.”

He answered, devoid of emotion, then looked away. The cheek where Seo Youngwoo’s gaze landed felt as if it had been scraped by sandpaper. The remaining white corners of the paper were filled with pen scribbles.

Ha Joyoon, drawing lines carelessly, glanced at the clock on the wall. An hour was enough time to endure. With the interview postponed and no need for him to express opinions on the exhibition planning as just a reporter, he gave a brief nod to Makkelen and Min Kyungsoo and was about to stand up when:

“It must have been tough.”

“…”

“You still don’t look well. Shouldn’t you be resting?”

His body stopped. He looked at the man expressionlessly. Despite the words, there was little sign that the other was genuinely concerned about Ha Joyoon’s health. His heart fell like dry leaves. The awkward atmosphere drew the attention of others to the two of them.

Not wanting any more attention, Ha Joyoon sat back down, frowning slightly. A bad feeling slowly crept up from his feet. Seo Youngwoo, who had been observing him, continued.

“I bet your family was very worried.”