Chapter 164
Hyeon-woo, gritting his teeth, declared to Tae-geon with finality:
“Get eye surgery.”
Though Tae-geon had been sitting submissively like a criminal throughout, he seemed to find it difficult to accept Hyeon-woo’s last words nonchalantly. As Tae-geon slightly furrowed his brow, Hyeon-woo emphasized once more, as if driving in a nail:
“Whether it’s an eye transplant or whatever. I don’t want to feel guilty about you anymore.”
Facing Hyeon-woo speaking in a firm tone, Tae-geon couldn’t hide his awkwardness. Sensing this, Hyeon-woo spoke again:
“I know everything. I heard it all from the older man. About the imprinting, that too. So! That’s what’s tormenting me!!”
“…”
“That you can’t see, that you’re suffering from ruts, that you’re secluded in this mansion like this, everything, absolutely everything, it all seems to be because of me, and so, it’s painful…”
The tremor in Hyeon-woo’s voice oscillated with an even greater amplitude than before. Tae-geon, hesitating to respond to the genuinely distressed Hyeon-woo, finally opened his reluctant lips:
“Even if I regain my sight through surgery, I’ll lose it again soon. You don’t need to feel guilty about what happened to my eyes-”
“Then we’ll make sure you don’t lose it again.”
Tae-geon showed a subtle expression, not fully understanding Hyeon-woo’s sudden interjection. Hyeon-woo looked at Tae-geon as if he found him frustrating.
“You said the optic nerve was damaged due to increased intraocular pressure during ruts! We just need to end the rut before the pressure rises to that level.”
Tae-geon doubted his ears several times, wondering if he had correctly understood what Hyeon-woo was saying. He tried to find another meaning, but the words contained only one implication. Confused, Tae-geon asked directly:
“I’m not sure if I understand correctly, but are you saying you’ll spend my rut with me?”
“…”
“If I’ve misunderstood, could you correct me?”
“…You’re right, you understood correctly.”
Detecting Tae-geon’s wavering gaze, Hyeon-woo quickly added:
“Even without feelings, we can mix our bodies. You know that well too, don’t you?”
“…What?”
“It’s what we often did. Throughout our twenties. So there’s nothing new about it.”
Tae-geon froze in shock, as if suddenly doused with cold water.
Throughout our twenties, what we did constantly.
It was a reference to the countless times they had mixed their bodies while Tae-geon pretended to be K, blindfolding the unsuspecting Hyeon-woo. And after confining the escaped Hyeon-woo, how had it been? He had focused solely on violating and exploiting Hyeon-woo’s body, without any regard for his will.
‘Even without feelings, we can mix our bodies. You know that well too, don’t you?’
…Even without feelings.
Had there ever been a time in his relationship with Hyeon-woo when he didn’t have feelings? At least not for him. He didn’t know about Hyeon-woo. No, he had already heard the answer as good as.
Despite mixing bodies countless times, not once had Hyeon-woo’s heart reached him. Neither when he was K, nor when he was Tae-geon.
And now, that same Hyeon-woo was saying he would spend his rut with him.
Just like back then.
“Without feelings.”
“…”
“Are you saying you’re going to offer your body to me as some kind of charity?”
Tae-geon’s voice was somber as he asked.
Charity.
Yes, it was as appropriate as could be, with no more fitting expression. As Hyeon-woo thought this, Tae-geon’s voice flowed ominously into his ears once more.
“…Hyeon-woo. Do you pity me?”
Hyeon-woo looked at Tae-geon with surprised eyes, then quickly turned his head to avoid his gaze.
It was a subtle and complex emotion that even he couldn’t clearly define. He couldn’t definitively say that this feeling didn’t have a mixture of compassion in it.
Don’t ask with that face, those eyes, that voice.
As Hyeon-woo hesitated to answer, biting his lip, Tae-geon laughed bitterly.
“Whether it’s charity or whatever, fine.”
Then, after a moment of silence, Tae-geon muttered softly, twisting the corner of his mouth.
“You’re right. Was there ever anything like feelings between us to begin with.”
A self-deprecating smile briefly formed and disappeared on Tae-geon’s lips.
“I can’t refuse your offer, no, I won’t. You pity me? Not bad. If it means escaping this terrible rut, I’m in no position to be picky.”
After pouring out these words without hesitation, Tae-geon asked Hyeon-woo:
“So you be clear too. Do you think you’ll be free from the guilt that’s tormenting you if my sight returns? Are you sure you won’t regret this decision?”
At this, Hyeon-woo’s eyes sank into darkness.
Won’t I regret it?
The bitter smile on Hyeon-woo’s lips resembled Tae-geon’s.
It’s already too late. I’m already regretting it painfully. I’ll surely live the rest of my life suffering from the guilt of my sins.
Self-loathing, guilt, responsibility, indebtedness – complex emotions that couldn’t be pinpointed to just one of these were coalescing among themselves, growing increasingly bloated into an unrecognizable shape. It felt suffocating.
He wanted to escape from this pain that was binding him as soon as possible. He wanted to shake it all off and feel unburdened as if nothing had happened.
“Yes. I won’t regret it.”
Hyeon-woo’s voice was firm as he answered. Tae-geon gazed at him intently with inscrutable eyes.
“It’s your choice.”
“…”
“You can’t take it back now. You can’t retract it, you can’t undo it.”
Tae-geon’s low voice pierced Hyeon-woo’s eardrums like a warning.
“If you’re going to run away midway, stop here. If you can’t take responsibility-”
“I will take responsibility.”
Hyeon-woo, flaring up, cut off Tae-geon’s words.
“I won’t run away in the middle.”
“Good.”
Tae-geon nodded.
“I’ll do it, the surgery.”
As Hyeon-woo was making a surprised expression at the easier-than-expected agreement, Tae-geon’s unfinished words continued into his ears.
“But I have a condition.”
…A condition?
Hyeon-woo’s expression hardened. Of course. No wonder he agreed so readily.
“What is this condition?”
Despite Hyeon-woo’s voice asking frostily, Tae-geon shamelessly demanded without batting an eye:
“I want you to be the first thing I see when I open my eyes.”
After saying this, Tae-geon slowly reached out his hand towards Hyeon-woo’s left cheek. His large palm carefully cupped the cheek, and soon his thumb gently brushed under the eye.
He should have harshly brushed it off, asking what he was doing, but the trembling touch of Tae-geon’s hand was too tender, as if dealing with a crystalline eye that might melt away with warmth, so he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
From the touch that moved here and there – from cheek to eyelid, from forehead to bridge of the nose – it seemed as if Tae-geon’s desire to capture every detail of his face was deeply conveyed. In Tae-geon’s moist eyes that reflected his face like a mirror, Hyeon-woo felt a strange resonance beating in his chest.
Thump-thump, thump-thump.
The increasing amplitude of the resonance became unbearable. Unable to endure it any longer, Hyeon-woo jerked his head back sharply. Tae-geon’s hand, losing its destination, lingered in the air for a moment before helplessly falling down.
“…If you just do that for me, I’ll get the surgery.”
Tae-geon’s voice, asking to see his face first, was closer to a plea than that of a negotiator demanding compensation.
Hyeon-woo quickly shut down the switches in his head that had started spinning rapidly, trying to understand Tae-geon’s true feelings. Hadn’t he resolved to stop interpreting, guessing, and assigning meaning on his own?
He knew all too well how vain expectations and disappointments could eat away at a person’s soul. It was just a matter of accepting the phenomena and truths seen and heard with eyes and ears. Any other sensations were unnecessary between Tae-geon and himself.
While admonishing himself for almost getting drawn in, Hyeon-woo rubbed his inexplicably aching chest and hastily replied to shake it off:
“Alright. I’ll do that.”
As if afraid Hyeon-woo might change his mind, Tae-geon immediately got off the bed and contacted Hakgyu, asking him to schedule the surgery. The brief call ended with Hakgyu’s response that he would check the schedule and get back to them.
“You must be the very first thing I see when I open my eyes. Don’t forget that’s the condition.”
“…Okay.”
As Hyeon-woo reluctantly responded to Tae-geon’s earnest reminder, a lightbulb suddenly went off in his mind.
Why hadn’t he thought of this earlier?
“I have a condition too.”
To Tae-geon, who couldn’t hide his bewilderment, Hyeon-woo said assertively:
“I’m not going to help with your rut for free.”
“…”
“There’s something I want to ask you.”
“…What is it?”
There was a hint of tension in Tae-geon’s voice as he responded a beat late. When Hyeon-woo, who had been speaking without hesitation, fell silent, Tae-geon’s face quickly turned anxious. After a long pause, Hyeon-woo’s voice, which had been opening and closing his lips repeatedly, finally came out:
“…Not now. Later.”
“…”
“I’ll ask you after your surgery is successful. Promise that you’ll tell only the truth, without lies. That’s the condition for me helping with your rut.”
“…Okay.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
Tae-geon’s low voice responding was uncharacteristically stiff.
Not long after, they received a call from Kwon Hakgyu saying that the surgery date had been set.
Next Friday.
It happened to coincide with the day Hyeon-woo was supposed to return home. Although he heard through Hakgyu that it was scheduled for the morning and wouldn’t interfere with his departure, Hyeon-woo felt uneasy, an unsettling feeling washing over him.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
