WOP Ch 5.1
by soapaA small recorder and a few thin documents were scattered across the conference table. Tension hung in the air as those present listened to the voice emanating from the speaker and read the contents of the letters.
“We’ve made contact with the whistleblower. It seems the scale of this is larger than we initially thought.”
“…….”
Tap. Tap. A hand tapped the table rhythmically with the end of a pen, a graceful, habitual gesture. After a long silence, the man began to lay out the thoughts he’d been mulling over.
“It seems the rumors about Finance Minister Kim Yeon-ju’s involvement in the forced sale of Hanju Electronics this week are true. While she wasn’t directly involved, it appears she used Min Wootaek as an intermediary to communicate her intentions. Among the ruling party figures involved, Shin Hosik seems to be a certainty. Most of them seem to have established shell companies in tax havens to stash away surplus funds, and Vice Minister Park Jaeyoung is most likely involved in that aspect.”
“So….”
“Min Wootaek, the G—KAP company he runs, and the Secretary General of WOP. Let’s start there. Editor-in-Chief, please begin assembling an investigative reporting task force on the Hanju incident. I’ll contact someone at ICIJ and look into the tax haven issue separately.”
Kim Chaehwan, who had been frantically skimming through the recording files and documents, sighed as he quickly ran through his to-do list and upcoming schedule.
“This has exploded at an awkward time.”
Shin Kwonjoo gave a cynical nod.
“We’ll have to see how things progress, but there’s a high probability I’ll have to step away midway. That’s why I’m putting you, Editor-in-Chief, in charge. Of course, the investigation will continue at headquarters, so I’ll keep you updated through correspondence.”
“That’s a shame. It would have been better if we could have seen this through together, Director.”
Although his pride had been initially stung upon learning that his new bureau chief was younger than him, Kim Chaehwan couldn’t help but acknowledge Shin Kwonjoo’s investigative reporting skills during their time working together. The young superior’s return to headquarters was a source of regret for him, both as a colleague and a fellow journalist.
At the editor-in-chief’s almost-whining lament, Shin Kwonjoo gave a cynical smile and quickly gathered the documents.
“Things are always changing rapidly in our line of work, aren’t they?”
“That’s true.” The editor-in-chief replied curtly, frowning as he thought about the headache this unexpectedly large case would cause him. “With so many people leaving just as this huge incident breaks, it’s disappointing and frustrating, even on a personal level. With Reporter Ha and you, Director, both leaving, the office will feel empty.”
“…….”
It had been meant as a lighthearted joke to change the mood, but Shin Kwonjoo’s hands paused mid-tidying. An unidentifiable flicker of emotion crossed his otherwise cold, unwavering eyes. His dark gaze searched for the source of another problem he’d temporarily buried. Oblivious to Shin Kwonjoo’s internal shift, the editor-in-chief continued with a wistful expression.
“Come to think of it, we haven’t even had a proper farewell party for Reporter Ha. I’ve tried to set a date, but I haven’t been able to reach him, maybe because he’s not coming to work anymore. Since he’s undergoing hospital treatment as well, I thought we could at least have a drink together….”
Shin Kwonjoo glanced at the editor-in-chief, who was rummaging through his phone and muttering to himself, then returned to his usual impassive expression and pushed the remaining documents to one side of the table. A moment later, he spoke in a somewhat chilly tone.
“What kind of sense does it make to invite someone who needs to rehabilitate to a drinking party?”
“Huh? Oh, it’s not like that.”
“Is there a compelling reason to call someone who’s resigned and is undergoing treatment out for a drink under the guise of a farewell party?”
“No, Director, I…”
“Arrange a simple meal instead of a drinking party. I have an appointment, so I’ll be leaving now. You can chair the afternoon meeting, Editor-in-Chief. See you tomorrow.”
“Ah, yes.”
Flustered by the sudden chill in the atmosphere, Kim Chaehwan quickly bowed his head. His superior’s mood had clearly soured. He wracked his brain, trying to figure out what he had said wrong, but to no avail. Finally giving up, Kim Chaehwan quickly changed the subject. He’d sensed it from the start, but despite his disagreeable personality, his boss seemed strangely protective of Ha Joyoon.
❄
The final documents arrived in the dead of winter, amidst a relentless snowfall. The gaze that scanned the legal pronouncements, declaring them strangers in every sense of the word, was shielded by an impenetrable armor, devoid of any discernible emotion.
The soft jazz melodies within the cafe blended with the scenery outside the window, creating a distinct winter ambiance. The snowflakes swirling in the wind were beautiful, but the man watching them had cold, dark eyes.
“Shouldn’t we at least have a toast?”
“…….”
An unreadable gaze fixed upon her. Disliking his impassiveness, Sunyoung pursed her red lips and offered a cynical smile. Clink. The sound of the coffee cup hitting its saucer rang sharply. The picturesque couple seated by the window drew glances from others in the cafe.
“This is the moment you’ve been eagerly waiting for.”
They had lived as if the other didn’t exist. The only remaining emotion was faded resentment, and the finalization of their divorce was merely a formality, not something of great significance to him. He had assumed it would naturally conclude and be settled in due time. Had it not been for the sudden phone call urging him to expedite the divorce proceedings in Korea…
“I apologize for pushing the schedule on my terms.”
Only after confirming the last sentence did Shin Kwonjoo place the documents in the envelope. His movements were devoid of emotion, causing Sunyoung’s lips to curve into a deeper smile.
“Don’t offer insincere apologies. More importantly, what’s the reason you wanted to meet? The court documents are self-explanatory. Why did you want to confirm them face-to-face?”
“…….”
He only frowned at her pointed words, offering no other response. Shin Kwonjoo casually placed the envelope aside and met his ex-wife’s gaze directly.
“I have something to ask.”
“Tell me.”
Her slender legs crossed gracefully at the knee. Her manicured hand tapped the handle of her coffee cup with elegant, practiced movements. A faint light flickered in the man’s eyes as he watched her.
He thought of other fingers, straight and long. A little thicker than a woman’s, slightly rough, unlikely to have been manicured. But the shape itself, like their owner, was quite refined, and sometimes, like now, it captured his attention.
A faint, awkward smile touched his lips. His once perfectly structured routine had begun to unravel, gradually yet distinctly. Fleeting images of someone, fragments of memories, the inevitable residue of emotions, and finally, the stark realization of absence. Countless factors were disrupting his life.
It was ironic that he only realized it now, after everything had fallen apart. He hadn’t expected to circle around and around before finally understanding this simple, almost elementary emotion.
“I want all the agreements we made to be nullified.”
Sunyoung’s eyes widened at the unexpected words. She finally noticed something peculiar about the man sitting across from her.
“…What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying we no longer need to pretend to be a married couple in public.”
His tone was flat and unemotional, but Sunyoung’s face contorted with each passing second. She let out a scoff as if in disbelief, tilting her chin upwards. Seeing her wounded pride on full display, Shin Kwonjoo felt a strange, almost comical sense of déjà vu. Sunyoung, sitting before him, mirrored his own desperate attempts to hold on, his own relegation in the order of priorities.
“What brought on this sudden change of heart? You were the one who proposed this in the first place.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“What are you up to….”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m sincere.”
At the unexpected apology, Sunyoung propped her chin on her hand, a gleam of amusement in her eyes. She found it hilarious that such words could come from the mouth of this arrogant, calculating man.
“Didn’t you choose me as a shield for your social life? Didn’t you approach a woman from a similar family background to avoid your own family’s scrutiny? Because it was convenient and hassle-free. Even if I’m sick of you, couldn’t you have endured a little longer? Wouldn’t it benefit only me if we ended things like this?”
“…….”
“A prestigious media family, a successful journalist, a beautiful wife from a good family. Wasn’t I just a disposable commodity in your perfect life plan? You even gave me a generous share of your assets. This is a profitable deal for me. I was willing to do you this service, why, don’t you want it?”
The perfectly manicured designs on her nails shimmered beautifully under the cafe’s orange lighting. Shin Kwonjoo set down his cup and ran a hand over his cheek and jaw, a habitual gesture. Her brutal words, though harsh, were not untrue. He couldn’t hide the bitterness as he faced the consequences of his past selfish choices. He’d never considered himself a particularly good person, but moments like these felt like his very core was being exposed.
Pushing aside the wave of fatigue, Shin Kwonjoo leaned back fully in his chair. He couldn’t pinpoint where in his life he should start unraveling the tangled threads. But one thing was certain.
“I admit it.”
His cool voice resonated through his vocal cords. Raw, turbulent emotions still churned within him.
“I wasn’t a good person to you, and I never intended to be.”
At his short, clear statement, Sunyoung sneered, one corner of her lip lifted. Even in asking this favor, he wielded his authority to maintain the upper hand, extinguishing the last embers of her remaining feelings.
“You’re pretending to be remorseful now.”
“Think what you want.”
“What if I refuse?”
He frowned at her weak provocation. However, unlike usual, there was no sharp, condescending edge to his expression. It was simply annoyance.
“I don’t want to get into a messy fight with you.”
It was as good as saying he’d use every method at his disposal. The weariness in his voice belied the ruthlessness of his words, causing Sunyoung’s thin cheeks to twitch. She knew that no matter how hysterically she reacted, it wouldn’t leave a mark on his calm, composed façade.
He was hateful and resentful until the very end. Although they had exchanged venomous words and curses, their relationship was now reduced to ashes, devoid of any real heat. It was more accurate to say she lacked the energy to even hate him.
“What kind of significant fault do you think you can find now that the divorce is finalized?”
“We’ll see.”
“What if I accept? There has to be something in it for me.”
“I think you’ve already received sufficient benefits, but if you need anything more, tell me. I’ll consider it within reason.”
His strictly business-like tone, unlike hers, was devoid of any trace of love or hate. Completely colorless and odorless, nothing more, nothing less. The realization struck Sunyoung as funny, and she laughed, the corners of her lips curving upwards.
“Fine. I get money and rid myself of you. It’s a win-win.”
They had met and married out of mutual need, but she had fallen in love. The more time they spent together, the less she could deny her growing feelings for him. However, unlike her evolving emotions, Shin Kwonjoo’s remained constant from beginning to end: need and calculation. Nothing more, nothing less. Realizing she could expect no love from him, she began to unravel. Her sick love had reduced her once-sharp intellect and logic to shreds.
By the time she came to her senses, it was too late. She had been the one to propose the divorce, but Shin Kwonjoo had accepted without hesitation. It was a marriage where all faults were overlooked, assets were divided cleanly, and absolutely nothing remained.
The reason they had maintained the pretense of being married even after the divorce was purely due to their respective interests. She, for her grandfather’s will and inheritance, and he, to minimize any damage to his social standing. What a pathetic couple they were.
Sunyoung finally burst out laughing, her shoulders shaking. Her own lingering attachment was laughable.
“Hmm… well, fine. I wasn’t going to agree, but my grandfather’s will issue was resolved last week. So you obtained that information and asked to see me today?”
At the end of her long, drawn-out laughter, Sunyoung finished her coffee. The aroma of the perfectly roasted beans soothed her frayed nerves. Her narrowed eyes flickered slightly.
“Why this sudden change? You should at least tell me this much in exchange for letting you off so easily. Is it because you don’t want our relationship to be known?”
Although her feelings were dead, she was genuinely curious. At her question, Shin Kwonjoo tilted his head slowly, a vague expression on his face. He seemed at a loss for how to answer.
It was an unfamiliar expression, one she had never seen before since she’d met him, and surprise filled Sunyoung’s eyes. A disbelieving scoff escaped her lips.
“Did you really find someone else?”
Instead of answering, he simply looked at her. A silent affirmation. Annoyance bubbled up within her. She wanted to inflict even a small wound on this arrogant, brazen man.
“How funny.”
“…….”
“Isn’t it going well? I told you to meet someone like yourself. I guess that’s what she’s like? It’s truly laughable, the state of Shin Kwonjoo. Resorting to pathetic threats like this with me.”
Her sharp mockery caused a flicker in his otherwise sharp eyes. People hurried through the gray cityscape, amidst the swirling snowflakes. After staring blankly at the passersby for a long while, Shin Kwonjoo finally spoke.
“Stop it.”
“Are you tucking your tail and running away?”
“It’s already bad enough without you adding to it.”
Confused by his cryptic words, Sunyoung brushed her hair back and asked, “What are you talking about?”
“It’s personal. You don’t need to know anymore, so get up. If you want anything, as I said, contact me through your lawyer.”
His words remained incomprehensible until the very end, and he remained a thoroughly detestable man. Sunyoung watched him, a sneer playing on her lips.
“Keep acting all high and mighty. No one will stay by the side of someone who doesn’t respect them. Keep mocking and looking down on those beneath you, and someday you’ll understand.”
“…….”
Sunyoung’s voice was sharp with irritation, but the man, already on his feet, didn’t respond. Shin Kwonjoo briefly gripped the table, then turned his back, his face carefully neutral, and walked away without a backward glance. His decisiveness left no room for doubt.
❄
By the time he arrived at the officetel, the sun was beginning to set, signaling the end of the afternoon. Checking his watch once more, Kang Taejung slightly lifted his firmly set jaw and stared at the building before him. His face was clouded with a dark expression.
For several days now, countless calls had been coming in from Seo Youngwoo. The situation felt eerily familiar, and Taejung couldn’t shake the guilt that washed over him every time Seo Youngwoo’s name appeared on his phone screen. Ironically, however, his guilt wasn’t directed towards the caller, but entirely towards Ha Joyoon.
He found himself laughable, desperately trying to escape and ending up in this state. Laughable, too, was his heart, which had forced him to look away, clinging to a precarious thread, hoping to live properly. Now, no matter how coincidentally they might meet or exchange words, Ha Joyoon would no longer initiate contact. It was only natural, yet with each passing day, that fact became a rusty nail, mercilessly piercing his heart.
Taejung gripped the key in his hand and took a heavy step. He needed to focus on the task at hand. He had stopped by during his fieldwork, intending to drop the key in the mailbox and send a message, hoping to avoid a potential encounter if he visited after work hours. Due to the building’s peculiar layout, with mailboxes located by the entrance of each unit, he had no choice but to enter.
Beep— beep, beep.
His hand entered the main entrance code with practiced ease. After pressing the six digits and the final asterisk, a soft electronic chime sounded, and the glass door slid open.
Thud.
The sound of his heels on the marble floor echoed heavily in the desolate silence. After a moment’s hesitation, he checked the elevator, only to find it stopped on a high floor. He turned towards the stairs.
- Recalling the apartment number, Kang Taejung reluctantly climbed the stairs. His footsteps, colder than the building’s chilly air, left wintery tracks. His hand gripping the railing, his long strides, and his gaze fixed straight ahead were all imbued with the biting wind.
There had been times when he didn’t need to think. He simply indulged in the comfort and boundless affection offered to him, avoiding and sheltering himself from the problems and conflicts he faced. The more time they spent together, the more comfortable he became with Ha Joyoon, even believing that comfort could be love. It was a foolish and arrogant notion. He felt increasingly guilty and uneasy, thinking that his ambivalent feelings had inflicted an incurable wound on Seo Youngwoo.
“…said!”
With only a couple of steps left, a familiar voice suddenly reached his ears. Although there were four apartments on each floor, it wasn’t difficult to pinpoint the source of the sound. It was Seo Youngwoo’s shrill voice. Is he home? Taejung checked the time again, wondering if it was past working hours, but it was the same as before. It meant Seo Youngwoo hadn’t gone to work or had left early.
“Oh…”
A groan of dismay escaped his lips. The realization that his attempt to avoid an uncomfortable situation might actually lead to the opposite outcome filled him with a deep sense of fatigue. He was contemplating what to do when he decided to quickly climb the remaining steps and drop the key in the mailbox before Seo Youngwoo came out.
“If that’s the case…honestly…start…”
Another voice stopped him in his tracks. A familiar voice. After comparing it to the voices stored in his memory, Kang Taejung realized it belonged to Park Seongjae, Seo Youngwoo’s close friend.
Perhaps the instinctive aspect of human nature plays a larger role than we think. Normally, he would have quietly placed the key in the mailbox and left, but now he found himself standing in front of the apartment where the argument was taking place. His emotionless footsteps echoed in the hallway.
“What are you…telling me to do…after telling my brother everything!”
Seo Youngwoo’s scream followed, sounding almost like a shriek. The gaze of the person who stepped closer sank to unfathomable depths.
“…then just live like that forever…look at yourself.”
A long finger touched the cold metal of the front door. Their voices became clearer as they seemed to move closer to the entrance. Fighting back the feeling of falling into an abyss, Kang Taejung focused intently on their conversation.
“If it were you…all lies…forcing me… letting me…delusional…! You…to others…such things…!”
The fingers gripping the cold door tightened. A silent lightning bolt struck his slowing heart. A painful shock, like needles piercing his skin, coursed cruelly through him.
What did he just hear?
He bit his lip, desperately clinging to the fragmented, fleeting thoughts. Tap, tap. Footsteps approached, heading towards him.
“Keeping someone tied up like that…do you really not understand…?”
“I don’t regret it!”
A raw, guttural cry tore through the air. Immense, immeasurable confusion overwhelmed Taejung’s chest. A tangled mass of emotions emanated a nauseating stench. Where was this stench coming from?
Kang Taejung stared blankly ahead, starting to unpack the rotting things around him, one by one. The argument continued, but the sounds no longer reached him, dissipating like smoke. At that moment, rapid footsteps approached the front door. And then,
Click—
“Look at yourself in the mirror before you speak. I’m leaving, so do as you please….”
The door opened, revealing a familiar face. Kang Taejung’s impassive gaze swept over the man, confirming it was Park Seongjae. Had he ever seen this man look so flustered? Recalling their few previous encounters, Taejung stared at the rigid Park Seongjae.
“Kang… Taejung….”
His thin lips trembled as he spoke Taejung’s name. Despite his plummeting heart, his mind grew cold. After a brief pause, Taejung tilted his head further to look at Seo Youngwoo, who was standing a few steps away. Seo Youngwoo was as pale as a corpse, trembling as he barely met Taejung’s gaze.
“H…hyung….”
His trembling voice was pathetic. With a neutral expression, Kang Taejung took something out and held it towards Seo Youngwoo.
“Your spare key. I had it, so I came to return it. I was originally going to leave it in your mailbox…”
“Hyung… hyung, I…”
“I didn’t think you’d be home at this hour, I must have miscalculated the time.”
His flat tone inflicted unseen wounds on Seo Youngwoo’s small face. Looking at the hurt expression on Seo Youngwoo, Kang Taejung still didn’t know how he should react. No, it wasn’t just that. It felt as if all his thoughts and reasoning had ceased to function.
“Take it.”
The key and keychain clinked together. The blue glass ornament spun for a moment from the impact. A heavy silence, devoid of even the sound of breathing, descended. He lifted his arm slightly again, and Seo Youngwoo, still trembling, reached out and took the key from Kang Taejung’s hand. Simultaneously, as if rehearsed, both of them spoke.
“Hyung, hyung… come inside first…”
“Kang Taejung, what you just heard…”
Before any unnecessary words could be exchanged, Taejung slowly shook his head.
“Park Seongjae.”
Seo Youngwoo’s shoulders flinched at his deep, low voice. Taking in every detail of his ex-lover’s appearance, Kang Taejung continued calmly.
“Please leave.”
Surprised by the unexpected words, Park Seongjae’s eyes widened, and he took a step forward. But Kang Taejung shook his head again, as if to refuse any further intrusion.
“I overheard some of your conversation. I don’t think this is something you should be involved in.”
“Kang Taejung, but…”
“I have something to say to Youngwoo. It won’t be as dramatic as you might think, so I’d appreciate it if you would leave. It’s not right for a friend to be involved in something like this.”
It was a quiet but heavy pressure. Park Seongjae, his eyes filled with concern, looked back and forth between Kang Taejung and Seo Youngwoo. Finally, with a sigh of regret and self-reproach, he covered his eyes with a trembling hand. His tightly shut eyelids twitched as if convulsing with shame.
“…I’m sorry for everything.”
“There’s no need for apologies. I just want you to leave.”
Although his apology was filled with self-loathing, the recipient’s face remained impassive. For a brief moment, as Kang Taejung’s emotionless gaze swept over him, Park Seongjae couldn’t help but think of his pitiful, wretched friend.
Didn’t you care for me, even a little? But why… Kang Taejung’s composure seemed to represent his true feelings toward Seo Youngwoo. As if to say it was truly nothing, not even a shock.
“…I’m sorry, Seongjae. You should go.”
Seo Youngwoo spoke in a hoarse voice, his thin cheeks wet with tears. After hesitating for a moment, Park Seongjae nodded heavily, opened the door, and left.
Click.
Silence returned with the closing of the door. In the suffocating air, Seo Youngwoo barely managed to lift his heavy head to meet Taejung’s gaze. He looked as handsome as ever, the same man who had made his heart flutter for so long. The emotional turmoil of the past few days had broken his tear ducts, and tears flowed uncontrollably.
“Hyung, I…”
He started to speak, trying to offer some kind of explanation, when Kang Taejung interrupted.
“Youngwoo, I just want to ask you one thing.”
His voice, now gentle and warm, was a stark contrast to the coldness from moments before. Seo Youngwoo found himself harboring a flicker of hope at his kind tone.
If I confess honestly now…
If I tell the truth now and ask for forgiveness, if I tell him I love him, maybe he’ll accept me.
Driven by the desperate desire to finally lay down the burden he’d carried for so long, Seo Youngwoo nodded repeatedly, unable to even wipe away the stream of tears. The question, devoid of any preamble, pierced straight through him.
“That day, you and I. Wasn’t it a forced interaction?”
Although the subject wasn’t explicitly stated, both of them knew who he was referring to.
“Hyung…”
At his choked voice, Kang Taejung gently shook his head and took hold of Seo Youngwoo’s wrists.
“It’s okay, just tell me.”
“……”
“It’s okay.”
At the gentle caress on his wrists, Seo Youngwoo finally realized that Taejung wasn’t asking to accuse him. Overcome with emotion, he burst into tears. He was going to forgive him, forgive him. His sobs continued for a long time.
“That day…”
The lid of a box, hidden for so long in a deep, dark hole where no one could see, began to creak open.
“I helped you…to the bed…. At first, I was going to leave right away…but as I watched you sleeping…I lost track of time…”
His fingertips, wiping at his eyes, were already wet with tears. Kang Taejung simply nodded, maintaining eye contact. He was preternaturally calm. Was he really okay?
Slightly reassured, Seo Youngwoo resolved to tell the truth. His strong belief that he would be forgiven combined with his desire to unburden himself of his guilt. He bit his lip several times before continuing with difficulty.
“Somehow, we were kissing…. Then you woke up for a moment…but you weren’t completely sober, so you mistook me for him…and then we just naturally…slept together…”
At Seo Youngwoo’s last words, Kang Taejung’s long, gentle eyes twitched. The indelible guilt was etched into every flicker of his gaze.
“Then, at that time, your face…?”
It was a short question, but also the most agonizing one. Squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists, Seo Youngwoo opened his trembling lips. Please, please.
“Before I went to you…I was at Seongjae’s shop…. Someone there hit on me…and when I refused to sleep with him…I said something that hurt his pride and it turned into a fight…The injuries…I got them while fighting with that person….”
“…….”
“…It wasn’t you, hyung.”
The final secret was out. Compared to the years of fear and anxiety, the ending was absurdly anticlimactic. Even as he finished speaking, Seo Youngwoo remained dazed by the overwhelming sense of loss and self-loathing. But Kang Taejung’s eyes, fixed on him, were strangely calm, like a sea that had swallowed all light.
“I… I was going to tell you the truth. I was going to, but… after that, you were so worried about me and cared for me so much that I missed the timing.”
“…….”
“I really regret it now. I shouldn’t have done that, I was just so desperate….”
Even though Taejung had said it was okay, Seo Youngwoo had expected some degree of anger. But at his lack of reaction, he cautiously opened his eyes and looked at Kang Taejung.
“Hyung, I’m really sorry…”
“So it wasn’t forced.”
His low voice interrupted before the apology was complete.
“It wasn’t forced.”
He repeated the words, more to himself than to Seo Youngwoo. For someone who had just learned such a painful secret, Kang Taejung looked remarkably serene. Unnerved by his unexpected reaction, Seo Youngwoo cautiously reached out and touched his arm.
“Taejung-hyung…”
“I understand.”
He gently but firmly pulled his arm away. Seo Youngwoo looked down at Kang Taejung’s hand, the blue veins prominent beneath the skin, his eyes brimming with tears. “Youngwoo.” His gentle voice called out again. Hyung, hyung. Seo Youngwoo trembled, his chin quivering as he opened his mouth to apologize. But once again, Kang Taejung spoke first. His grip on Seo Youngwoo’s hand tightened.
“Ultimately, I made assumptions. You just didn’t correct me.”
“…I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“It’s horrible, but it’s hard to call it a lie, and I don’t think it’s entirely your fault.”
At the word “horrible,” Seo Youngwoo’s face paled further. Kang Taejung rubbed his rough cheek for a moment, then parted his dry lips.
“It wasn’t because of that that I met you…so it’s okay now.”
“Hyung…hyung, I made a mistake…I made a mistake.”
Sadness drifted aimlessly in the dim light. His head spun, and nausea rose in his throat, as if his entire brain had been crushed.
“Thank you.”
“Hyung…?”
His dark pupils widened at the unexpected words. His voice trembled as he spoke. A smile. A faint curve appeared on his finely sculpted features, a definite smile.
What…what are you thanking me for? Seo Youngwoo couldn’t hide his confusion at Kang Taejung’s reaction, so different from the contempt he’d expected.
“Thank you for not letting me remain a complete piece of trash until the end.”
“…….”
“Take care.”
With a finality that left no room for further discussion, Kang Taejung turned and walked away. Seo Youngwoo stared blankly at his resolute back, devoid of any lingering attachment, then suddenly ran towards him as he reached for the doorknob.
“Hyung, hyung! I’m sorry… I’m sorry…!”
His urgent footsteps and desperate cries shattered the silence. The premonition that if he let Taejung go now, their relationship would truly be over fueled his desperation.
“I let you misunderstand. I stood by and watched because of my selfish desires, because I was cruel. But I never once thought of you as trash, and I never had the right to. Hyung, I…!”
The touch of a hand on the back of his own stopped his forward movement. A flicker of hope ignited within Seo Youngwoo, and he felt his eyes welling up. Taejung was a kind person, a warm person. If he apologized sincerely…!
“…….”
Turning towards Seo Youngwoo, Taejung stared intently. His deep gaze was filled with an indescribable emotion. He seemed calm yet weary, kind yet cold.
The unsettling mix of opposing feelings made Seo Youngwoo instinctively freeze. Time seemed to stop, neither of them moving a muscle. How long did it last? It felt like an eternity. Finally, Taejung broke the silence.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but…”
“Hyung…”
“It’s not you.”
His voice was quiet and firm.
“…What?”
Seo Youngwoo stared back, his face blank, thinking that this must be the most idiotic expression he’d ever worn. “Let go of my hand.” Cold fingers touched the back of his hand. The reply that followed ruthlessly crushed and incinerated what little hope remained.
“It’s not you.”
With that, Kang Taejung brushed Seo Youngwoo’s hand away and turned the doorknob.
The last thread of Seo Youngwoo’s self-control snapped at Taejung’s cold demeanor. He followed Taejung, crying out, “Hyung, hyung!”
Only then did Seo Youngwoo realize.
The person who was relieved not to be seen as trash until the very end… that person wasn’t him. In the end, Taejung had been crueler to him than anyone else.
“Why are you doing this? Just get angry! Tell me I’m disgusting! Ask me why I did such a thing! At least curse me and resent me!”
“…….”
“You hate me, don’t you? You resent me! Just hit me and curse me!”
At his anguished cry, just before opening the door, a faint smile touched Kang Taejung’s lips, frozen like wax.
“You ask why I’m doing this?”
Resentment.
Taejung tightened his grip on the doorknob, a self-deprecating tone in his voice as he uttered the single word.
“Right now, I don’t have any thoughts about you.”
He took a heavy breath.
“Because it doesn’t seem worth it.”
The swift reply came without him even making eye contact. His voice, now devoid of any emotional residue, continued.
“Let’s not see each other again.”
“Hyung!”
There was no hesitation in his movements as he opened the door and stepped out. Seo Youngwoo hurried after him. No. No. Tears streamed down his face. Every sign Taejung had shown since entering this apartment had indicated that he was no longer his lover, that there was no possibility left. But before he could follow him outside, the door slammed shut, blocking his way.
Slam!
The cold sound echoed through the officetel. Left alone in an instant, Seo Youngwoo stood frozen, as if rooted to the spot. The motion-sensor lights flickered on and off meaninglessly, registering only his shallow breaths. His cold mind slowly began to process what had just happened.
Taejung hadn’t even gotten angry at his terrible lie. All the reactions he had perceived as consideration were simply because Taejung didn’t find him worth the effort, the need for such a dramatic response. That was Kang Taejung’s conclusion.
“Ha…”
“Hahaha…”
A hollow laugh, devoid of any malice, escaped his lips.
Everything was already in ruins. After the client’s request for a change of personnel, he was on the verge of being removed from the project. The love he had nurtured for so long had been thoroughly tarnished by his deceit, leaving no trace behind. The man who was once his lover didn’t even bother to despise him.
Only after their relationship had irrevocably ended did Seo Youngwoo realize that the kindness he had felt from Kang Taejung for over ten years was merely a residual phantom, all of it given to someone else. That his relationship with Kang Taejung wasn’t even a castle built on sand.
It wasn’t something that was taken from him. It wasn’t even borrowed. Just as Taejung had once said, he had simply happened to be there when needed. That was the entirety of their relationship’s conclusion. That was the cruel, harsh truth he had so desperately tried to avoid.
His strength gave way, and he collapsed onto the floor. Alone in the pitch-black despair, all that remained for Seo Youngwoo was his monstrously selfish heart, which had ruined everything with hypocrisy and malice.
What did I believe in, what did I ruin myself for? Why did I cling so desperately?
A long, mournful wail, filled with all his pent-up emotions, echoed through the hallway.
The sound of footsteps on the asphalt blended with the quiet alleyway scenery. It was a strange gait, both heavy and light. Darkness had fallen, but his steps forward remained unwavering.
It’s not you.
The icy winter wind scraped against his cheeks like a knife. Despite the stinging pain, his strides didn’t falter. On the contrary, he picked up speed. A burning ball of fire, hot enough to incinerate his insides, slowly climbed from the soles of his feet. The flames left a trail of searing pain and ugly scars, yet his steps remained relentless. His face, exposed to the cold wind, held an ambiguous expression, neither smiling nor crying.
It wasn’t you.
The darkness that had oppressed him for so long began to recede. White puffs of breath escaped his lips with each exhale. His pace quickened. Eventually, he couldn’t tell whether he was walking or running. The winter wind ruffled his hair. Snow began to fall from the darkening sky. He recalled the weather forecast predicting heavy snowfall throughout the weekend. The white snow began to cover the harsh streets, softening their violent edges.
He should have been angry. He should have demanded to know why Seo Youngwoo did what he did, why he went so far.
But the moment he learned the truth, Taejung felt strangely numb. His previously tumultuous mind became empty, like that of a simpleton. He was simply grateful that he wasn’t the utter trash he had believed himself to be. And immediately, the unspoken guilt he had forcibly buried, the guilt directed towards someone else, burst forth like a dam breaking.
He hadn’t broken up with Ha Joyoon solely because of what he’d done to Seo Youngwoo. At the time, he had genuinely cared for Seo Youngwoo, had even liked him. The incident was just one of many complex reasons. But it was true that the incident had contributed to his cruelty.
He couldn’t bear the thought that his sin had tainted his past with Ha Joyoon. It felt as if it had tarnished even the precious memories. Because of his shameful situation, every moment he’d spent with Joyoon since their reunion had been agonizing, even making eye contact had been difficult. He felt ridiculous for having proclaimed his love. He wished he had never known. That’s why he chose to avoid and evade. Even though he knew that choice would rot his soul.
He bit his chapped lips. His nose stung. His vision blurred, and his heart pounded painfully, offering no hope. He was on a path with no end in sight. Everything had spiraled into the worst possible scenario, and he had severed the most precious connection with his own hands. He no longer deserved a place beside Ha Joyoon. His own heart, after a long period of suffering, was too weary and wounded to be his shelter any longer.
And yet…
Kang Taejung drew a shaky breath, his hands clenched. Although no tears flowed, his pained face was etched with the traces of silent weeping.
The touch of a palm against the back of his hand stopped his forward movement. The thought that it might be a sign of hope brought a rush of warmth to Seo Youngwoo’s eyes. Taejung was a kind person, a warm person, more than anyone. If he apologized sincerely…!
“…….”
Taejung turned towards Seo Youngwoo, gazing intently at him. His deep gaze was filled with an indescribable emotion. Calm yet weary, kind yet cold.
The unsettling mix of opposing feelings made Seo Youngwoo instinctively freeze all words and actions. Time seemed to stop, neither of them moving a muscle. How long did it last? It felt like an eternity. Finally, he broke the silence.
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about, but…”
“Hyung…”
“It’s not you.”
His added words were quiet and firm.
“…What?”
Seo Youngwoo stared back, his face blank, thinking that this must be the most idiotic expression he had ever worn. “Let go.” Cold fingers touched the back of his hand. And the immediate reply that followed ruthlessly crushed and incinerated what little hope remained.
“It’s not you.”
With those words, Kang Taejung brushed Seo Youngwoo’s hand off and turned the doorknob without a second glance.
As the last thread of Seo Youngwoo’s self-control snapped at Taejung’s cold demeanor, he followed him, crying out, “Hyung, hyung!”
Only then did Seo Youngwoo understand.
The person who was relieved not to be seen as trash until the very end…that person was not him. In the end, to the very end, Taejung had been crueler to him than anyone.
“Why are you doing this? Just get angry at me! Tell me I’m disgusting! Ask me why I did such a thing! At least yell at me and resent me!”
“…….”
“You hate me, don’t you? You resent me! At least hit me and curse at me!”
At his anguished cry, just as he was about to open the door, a faint smile touched Kang Taejung’s waxen lips.
“You ask why I’m doing this?”
Resentment.
Taejung tightened his grip on the doorknob, a self-deprecating tone to his voice as he spoke the single word.
“Right now, I just don’t feel anything about you.”
He let out a heavy breath.
“Because it doesn’t seem worth it.”
The quick reply came without him even making eye contact. His voice, drained of any trace of emotion, continued, “Let’s not see each other again.”
“Hyung!”
There was no hesitation in his movements as he opened the door and stepped out. Seo Youngwoo hurried after him. No. No. Tears streamed down his face. Every sign Taejung had given since entering this apartment indicated he was no longer his lover, that not a shred of possibility remained. But before he could follow him outside, the door slammed shut, blocking his path.
Slam!
The cold, hard sound reverberated throughout the officetel. Left alone in an instant, Seo Youngwoo stood frozen, rooted to the spot. The motion-sensor lights flickered meaninglessly on and off, detecting only his shallow breaths. His numb mind slowly began to process.
Taejung hadn’t even gotten angry at his terrible lie. All those reactions he’d perceived as consideration were simply because, to Taejung, he wasn’t worth the effort, the need for a dramatic response. That was Kang Taejung’s conclusion.
“Ha…”
“Hahaha…”
A hollow laugh, devoid of any malice, echoed in the silence.
Everything was in ruins. After the client’s request for a personnel change, he was about to be removed from the project. The love he’d nurtured for so long had been utterly tarnished by his deceit, leaving no trace. The man who was once his lover didn’t even offer him the dignity of his contempt.
Only after their relationship had irrevocably ended did Seo Youngwoo understand. The kindness he’d perceived from Kang Taejung for over ten years had been a mere phantom, all of it given to another. That his relationship with Kang Taejung hadn’t even been a castle built on sand.
It wasn’t something taken from him, nor even borrowed. Just as Taejung had said, he’d simply been there when needed. That was the sum total of their relationship. That was the cruel, harsh truth he had so desperately tried to avoid.
His strength gave way, and he crumpled to the floor. Alone in the pitch-black despair, all that remained was Seo Youngwoo’s monstrously selfish heart, the heart that had ruined everything with hypocrisy and malice.
What had he believed in, what had he destroyed himself for? Why had he clung so desperately?
A long, mournful wail, heavy with all his pent-up emotions, echoed through the hallway.
As he arrived at the familiar building, white snowflakes began to fall. It was a place he had frequented just days ago, yet after a few days’ absence, the air around the entrance felt strangely unfamiliar.
He’d never had so much time entirely to himself. His daily routine was leisurely and peaceful. In the endless expanse of time, Joyoon endlessly reflected on the past. It wasn’t a wallowing in bygone days, but a laying of the foundation for the time to come. Within that time, everything that had constituted his thirty-one years was examined and sorted: his life as a reporter, photography, his beliefs and goals, the accompanying responsibilities, love for his family, the justification for persuading them, the lives of others,
love,
Kang Taejung,
…and then.
“It feels strange being back after so long…”
Even his breath, dissipating like smoke, was cold enough to freeze. Though Christmas had long passed and the new year had arrived, some shops still displayed colorful trees and played carols, creating a lingering festive atmosphere.
Lightly patting his cold cheeks, Ha Joyoon leaned against a pillar by the building’s entrance. He took out his phone, but his frozen fingers struggled to navigate the screen.
“Did I come too early?”
He had a little over an hour until their appointed time. He’d left early to account for traffic and had arrived much earlier than expected. He briefly considered what to do, then decided to wait, putting his phone back in his pocket. There was no need to make unnecessary calls.
“Ha…”
He tilted his head back and exhaled, a cool puff of breath escaping his lips. Amidst the bustling footsteps of passersby, a buried memory surfaced. Shin Kwonjoo had contacted him on a dark night, devoid of even starlight.
[I want to see you.]
Staring at Shin Kwonjoo’s name and the requested date on his phone screen, Ha Joyoon had traced his finger across the display for a long while, speechless. Despite reading the message, he couldn’t bring himself to reply immediately. Finally, the night before, he had simply replied, “Okay,” but until then, Shin Kwonjoo hadn’t pressed him for a response.
What do I want to do? What do I want to talk to him about? Questions he couldn’t even define for himself tangled within him.
Ha Joyoon recalled his second breakup, hasty and inconsiderate, where neither of them had revealed their true feelings.
He knew from past experience the impact such an emotionally abrupt dismissal could have, regardless of logic, reason, or practicality. Yet, when he held the power, he had acted even more clumsily and inadequately. He had convinced himself it was for the best, that leaving things unsaid and letting them fade away naturally would be beneficial for both Shin Kwonjoo and himself.
But seeing Shin Kwonjoo struggle to accept it afterwards, Ha Joyoon had re-evaluated his approach to breaking up. Even now, he couldn’t definitively say what the right approach was. They were both still lost, and he realized that human emotions and relationships couldn’t be neatly categorized and judged by any set of rules.
“…….”
The cold touch against his cheek startled him, and he tilted his head back. Snowflakes swirled amidst the biting winter wind. They were larger than when he’d gotten out of the taxi. He traced his finger over the melting snowflakes on his skin, taking in his surroundings, when—
Screech——
The sharp sound of tires against asphalt pierced the air. Wondering if there had been an accident, Ha Joyoon turned towards the sound, his gaze leaving the faces of the passersby. He wasn’t the only one startled; pedestrians murmured amongst themselves as they watched a sedan come to a crooked stop at the entrance to the parking lot.
“Oh…”
A soft groan escaped his lips. He easily recognized the owner from the familiar license plate.
Slam!
The door swung open, revealing a leg clad in a gray suit. Everything happened in a blur. The rest of the figure emerged, and the door slammed shut with the same swiftness. Shin Kwonjoo strode towards him, wearing a black coat as dark as his eyes. As he approached, the anger in his sharply defined features intensified, and Ha Joyoon involuntarily flinched when he was only a step away.
“What are you doing here?”
The cold emanating from Shin Kwonjoo’s body pressed against him. Blinking slowly in the sudden chill, Ha Joyoon met his gaze. He tried to recall how many days it had been since they last saw each other, but his memory was blank, as if someone had erased it.
A faint, distant sense of familiarity, like seeing him after a long, long time, flickered across his pale face. Seemingly unconcerned with observing Joyoon’s subtle expressions, Shin Kwonjoo spoke gruffly.
“Are you protesting?”
He quickly unwound the khaki scarf from around his neck.
“…What?”
Before Joyoon could ask what he meant, the soft fabric was swiftly wrapped around his exposed neck. His touch was rough. Only after tightly knotting the scarf did Shin Kwonjoo step back, frowning. The warmth of his breath against the fabric radiated a gentle heat around Joyoon’s neck and jaw.
“It’s… it’s okay.”
“Stay still.”
“Why did you come so early?”
Hesitating for a moment, Ha Joyoon gently pulled down the end of the scarf covering half his face before speaking. His breath hitched in the sudden warmth.
“There wasn’t any traffic.”
“…….”
“Sunbae-nim, please take care of your business. I’ll wait in the lobby. I just came out for some fresh air, so I’ll go inside if I get cold. Don’t worry too much about me.”
As he continued speaking calmly, Shin Kwonjoo’s expression contorted further. His face, a mixture of bewilderment, confusion, and impatience, clearly indicated his distress. Shin Kwonjoo glanced around with cold eyes, then turned his gaze back to Ha Joyoon, seemingly having reached a decision.
“…Look at yourself before you say such things.”
He spoke curtly, his voice sharp, and turned away. The soft cashmere of the scarf tickled his cold cheeks. It was warm, but it couldn’t dispel the underlying chill. Thinking Shin Kwonjoo was heading back to his office, Ha Joyoon took a step back to maintain some distance. Even so, Shin Kwonjoo quickly reached out.
“Let’s go.”
“What about your work?”
“There’s nothing important, let’s go.”
With a hardened expression, he grabbed Ha Joyoon’s wrist and pulled him along. Unlike his own frozen hand, Shin Kwonjoo’s was burning hot, as if filled with passion. The forceful grip made Ha Joyoon involuntarily glance around the lobby. Despite it being working hours, there were quite a few people coming and going. Remembering Shin Kwonjoo’s past pronouncements about his reputation, he hurriedly pulled his wrist free. The skin where their hands had touched burned red.
“I’ll go.”
Shin Kwonjoo’s sharply arched eyebrows narrowed further.