Chapter 202
Hyeon-woo, who had been staring blankly at the dark ceiling, turned his gaze to the hospital bed. He saw Tae-geon, deeply asleep with an exhausted face, not even making a sound as he breathed.
It seemed he had overexerted himself, sharing the long-withheld story while not fully recovered.
In the silent, dark hospital room, as Hyeon-woo looked down at the seemingly lifeless Tae-geon, memories of another dark night began to unfold before his eyes like smoke.
The memory of that night when he had secretly entered the room at the end of the third floor of the east wing to uncover the secret hidden by the mansion was vividly etched in his mind. The shock of that night, when he had to stifle his gasp and swallow his astonishment at the truth revealed behind the bed curtains, was clearly imprinted in his brain.
He would probably never forget it for the rest of his life. The sight of Tae-geon, tied to an iron pillar like an animal. The moment of their first reunion after a six-year gap.
Tae-geon’s excited voice repeatedly calling out his name and his body struggling in pain had stuck in his mind like a curse, tormenting him constantly.
He had always wondered why Tae-geon was confined in such a place, in such a state, treated worse than an animal. Even if it was the doing of a family that considered an alpha’s imprint shameful, Tae-geon wasn’t the type to stay quietly in such a place if it wasn’t his own choice.
What could be the reason he chose to isolate himself from the world? Today, Hyeon-woo finally got the answer to this question that had always been spinning in a corner of his mind.
It was because of his survival.
Because of him, Tae-geon had lost everything. His healthy eyes, his strength, his power, even his bright future. Yet, to ensure that Hyeon-woo, who had survived the accident, would never again become their target, Tae-geon willingly walked into an even deeper, darker shadow.
Receiving news of Hyeon-woo’s well-being once a month through his rut, Tae-geon had curled up alone in an endlessly cold and lonely darkness for an indefinite time, risking everything…
Suddenly, something hot welled up in Hyeon-woo’s chest. He swallowed hard, his throat stinging, and bit his lip tightly.
He didn’t know why Mu-seok’s story came to mind at this moment. The tragic end chosen by his brother, Tae-geon’s biological father, echoed in his head.
If he had died in that accident as planned, the one that took his parents’ lives, Tae-geon would have soon found out too. Just like Tae-geon’s father, who learned of his loved one’s death through a broken imprint.
Hyeon-woo felt a stabbing pain in his chest just imagining Tae-geon left alone in a world where he no longer existed.
He didn’t even want to think about what choices Tae-geon might have made after learning of his death.
Hyeon-woo opened his eyes after squeezing them shut, shifting his gaze from Tae-geon to the dark window outside. Then he slowly recalled the truth of the incident he had just heard.
Everything was as he had suspected. A meticulously planned murder disguised as an accidental death. The broken CCTV in the garage, the car’s black box, all evidence had disappeared without leaving a single clue.
Despite the circumstances pointing suspiciously to murder rather than an accident, he had foolishly failed to uncover the truth in the end. Not only had he failed to clear his parents’ disgrace, but he had also dragged the innocent Jamie into it.
A terrible sense of self-loathing washed over him.
Hyeon-woo’s hands trembled as they covered his contorted face.
Tae-geon, who had to listen to every detail of that hellish moment in real-time, seemed much more distressed when recounting the accident that killed Hyeon-woo’s parents than when talking about the accident that befell him afterward.
Hyeon-woo guessed that Tae-geon had been atoning in his own way for a long time. Just as he had found purpose in life and decided to atone by shouldering Jerome’s life, Tae-geon too must have tried to atone by sacrificing himself for Hyeon-woo’s survival. That’s why he didn’t hesitate to throw himself into the darkness.
However, even knowing this, Hyeon-woo couldn’t bring himself to tell Tae-geon that it was okay, that he should stop tormenting himself and put down this burden.
He recalled the last words he had said to Tae-geon, who had lowered his head after confessing all his sins, waiting for his judgment.
‘Give me some time to think.’
He couldn’t fully process the enormous truth that had hit him like a storm.
What expression did Tae-geon make when he asked for time?
He couldn’t remember clearly.
He was too overwhelmed trying to collect himself to pay attention to Tae-geon. Numerous emotions, tangled and intertwined without a chance to sort them out, whirled in his chest, stirring up a mess. Each time, the sediment accumulated in a corner of his heart rose hazily, clouding his mind.
When memories of his unfairly deceased parents and Jamie, and his own past days of suffering alone with all this responsibility flashed before his eyes, anger boiled up in his chest like a raging fire. He hated Tae-geon, the starting point of all this pain.
He resented Tae-geon for not keeping his own words when he said they should end it, causing all this trouble.
If it weren’t for you, no one would have died. If it weren’t for you, my life wouldn’t have become so miserable.
Even as he listed his grievances against Tae-geon, Hyeon-woo frequently had to clutch his chest and gasp for breath.
Because of Tae-geon, who had never forgotten him for a single moment after their separation, because of Tae-geon who couldn’t let go of him even knowing he was a rotten lifeline, his chest ached and at the same time, his heart raced with an inexplicable heat.
He felt like he was drowning in the numerous emotions that had crashed over him all at once. He was barely keeping his head above water, struggling just to breathe. His mind couldn’t process how he should feel towards Tae-geon.
In this state, he couldn’t give any answer to Tae-geon who was seeking his forgiveness.
He too was a sinner.
His own atonement wasn’t even finished yet, and it felt too contradictory for someone like him to forgive Tae-geon, the catalyst of the incident that killed everyone, or even to judge his sins.
He had intended to devote the rest of his life solely to paying for his sins. But with Tae-geon’s sudden confession, and becoming the subject of that confession, Hyeon-woo felt something fundamental that had been supporting his life so far greatly shaken.
Perhaps, long before Tae-geon confessed his sins, from the moment Tae-geon appeared before him, everything had started falling apart.
“…Huh.”
Hyeon-woo let out a short sigh and covered his tired face with both hands. His heart felt heavy.
He carefully got up from where he was sitting, quickly checked on the deeply sleeping Tae-geon, and quietly left the hospital room.
The moonlight seeping through the window created a scattered bridge of light on the dark corridor.
The sharp smell of disinfectant brushed his nose. Hyeon-woo took one step, then another, walking endlessly down the seemingly infinite corridor amidst the desolate silence.
His heart swayed like a reed. In a corner of his heart, mixed with resentment and sympathy towards Tae-geon, a voice defending him began to be heard.
If it weren’t for his omega manifestation, Tae-geon wouldn’t have had to develop suppressants, and they wouldn’t have turned the cartel forces into enemies, causing harm to everyone.
If he hadn’t mixed the blue potion into Tae-geon’s meal that night, Tae-geon wouldn’t have imprinted on him, and he wouldn’t have needed to hide in the darkness to protect Hyeon-woo, who had become his weakness.
Maybe Choi Tae-geon was also a victim.
When his thoughts finally reached this point, Hyeon-woo stopped walking and slapped both his cheeks hard with his palms.
Get a grip, Han Hyeon-woo. Choi Tae-geon is the one who caused everyone’s death! Why are you trying to defend him like this?!
The more he criticized and scolded himself for his incomprehensible, contradictory feelings, the more clearly he realized. Where this contradiction that tormented him so much originated from.
Hyeon-woo stopped walking and blankly looked up at the moonlit window. A shining star in the dark night sky caught his attention.
Just as he couldn’t deny the reality of that light shining brilliantly before his eyes right now, even if it might be just a trace of a star that died billions of light-years ago, he had tried to ignore his feelings towards Tae-geon, dismissing them as mere remnants of a dead past, but it had come to this in the end.
He couldn’t dismiss these feelings deeply rooted in his heart as mere embers of the past. His heart was engulfed in an uncontrollable fire, burning hotter than ever before.
However, the more he acknowledged his feelings, the more an incomparably greater sense of guilt weighed down on Hyeon-woo. He couldn’t stand his selfish self trying to defend and advocate for Tae-geon in the face of the truth at hand.
He had just realized the nature of these feelings. He had just admitted that he liked Tae-geon, but with the truth that simultaneously attacked him, Hyeon-woo felt like his heart, and his head, were about to break.
It was when Hyeon-woo, at a dead end, turned to round the corner of the corridor. Behind him, a loud crash of something falling and breaking shattered the silence.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
