What? Can’t you at least pretend to recognize me? Ask how I’ve been… No. Wait, does he not remember me? He stared at my nipples like that…
Maybe he doesn’t recognize me because my hair has grown? Or because the wounds have healed?
No way. How could he forget such a fateful moment?
…Should I provoke him? Let’s see how he reacts.
Seonwook grinned, then put on an innocent expression and asked, “Who?”
Director Hwang closed his mouth and tilted his head slightly to one side.
They stared at each other for a moment.
“The man who came and went from Room 203.”
“I didn’t see him.”
Director Hwang, who had been tilting his head, slowly returned it to its original position.
“Why not?”
“He was wearing a cap and a mask. As you can see, the entrance isn’t that bright.”
“Height? Build? Clothes?”
Seonwook silently shrugged.
“What does that mean?”
Director Hwang asked, pointing at Seonwook’s shoulders.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
Director Hwang tilted his head back slightly, then used the hand that had been pointing at Seonwook’s shoulder to slowly rub the tip of his chin.
“Not at all?”
“Nope.”
“Were you asleep?”
“Ah, maybe?”
“What color was the cap?”
“Hmm, black, I think?”
Director Hwang, who had been staring at Seonwook’s face, gestured toward the back with his chin.
“What’s that door?”
Where he pointed was the door to the small room.
“My room.”
Seonwook answered, still looking at Director Hwang.
Director Hwang went over and opened the door.
As he passed by, Seonwook took a deep breath. It felt like inspiration was seeping into his brain as a fragrance.
The image of Director Hwang floating on a fragrant glacier in a cold sea flashed through his mind, and lines of poetry surged forth—snap—he jerked his head and looked back.
Director Hwang, holding the door to the small room, crooked his finger, beckoning him over.
Seonwook pushed against the creaking chair and slowly stood up. He was quite tall, but when he stood to meet Director Hwang’s eyes, their eye levels were similar.
Director Hwang gestured briefly toward the inside of the room, and Seonwook’s eyes widened slightly.
Go inside…?
Why? What does he want to do with me in there?
This wasn’t expected… Is he making a move? This fast?
Still a little confused, Seonwook passed him and entered the room.
It was a tiny room with only one small window, originally used as a storage space, but Seonwook had been using it as his own room while working at the inn.
As Director Hwang followed him in and closed the door, the room darkened. A slap echoed, and a flash of light burst before Seonwook’s eyes.
Before Seonwook could even lift his head, a second and third flash struck the same spot.
Seonwook, pressed against the wall, kept his eyes tightly shut, waiting for the slaps to continue, but they stopped. He opened his eyes.
Director Hwang stood there as if nothing had happened, his hands in his pockets, staring at Seonwook. He hadn’t even taken off his shoes.
“Do you only understand questions after you’ve been hit?”
Suddenly, the warmth had vanished from Director Hwang’s voice. His expression seemed to belong to someone else entirely.
“What the hell…?”
Seonwook stared at Director Hwang, almost laughing.
Suddenly changing his face? Was he pretending to be refined outside?
As Director Hwang stepped closer, a hot aura swirled around him.
“So, what color was it?”
“……”
All of Seonwook’s senses were sharply focused on him. His slapped cheek and ear, his neck, even the hair on that side—everything burned as if on fire, and the cramped room was filled with his scent.
How can he smell so good? Does he not even sweat?
Up close, he looks even more like a flower. Maybe you have to look this good to inspire art?
But then again, how could you not write poetry after seeing something this stunning?
Seonwook slowly opened his mouth.
“Don’t you remember me?”
“……”
“From the underpass that time.”
A flame ignited on the other cheek, and Seonwook’s head snapped to the side.
Director Hwang immediately grabbed Seonwook’s cheek, roughly jerking his head back into place. His fingers dug into his cheek, shaking it.
“I’m asking you a question. Can’t you hear me?”
Despite the rough movement, his hand was warm, and his skin was incredibly soft.
In his blurred vision, Director Hwang’s face, with only a slight furrow between his brows, seemed to glow.
A temper as flower-like as his face…
Seonwook swallowed a groan.
“Gray. It was gray. A gray cap.”
“Speak politely, you trashy mutt.”
“It was gray, sir. The brand looked like… uh, something like Ain?”
“……”
Director Hwang, who had been staring into Seonwook’s eyes, loosened his grip slightly.
“Go on.”
“He was on the lean side, about 170 cm tall. Late twenties, maybe?”
“And?”
“He was wearing a black hoodie. There was some white English text on the left chest, but the strap of my bag was too short to see what it said. The shoulder was a bit torn. His pants were dark, denim-like, and his shoes were black walkers.”
“……”
“His hair was long enough to cover the back of his neck? Not dyed, and he had one piercing hole on each ear, but no earrings. I couldn’t see his hands well since they were in his pockets. Didn’t seem like he was wearing a ring, though.”
As Seonwook spoke, Director Hwang kept his hand on Seonwook’s cheek.
“What else do you want to know?”
“……”
Director Hwang stared into Seonwook’s eyes for a moment.
Seonwook met his dark gaze and imagined himself as a bee.
This flower-like bastard.
If you’re a flower, then I’m obviously a bee. I’ll get covered in your pollen, and I’ll keep digging, digging into you, sucking out everything inside.
While you wilt from being drained, I’ll write over a thousand poems.
When you read my poems, you’ll be so moved you’ll bloom again.
And then I’ll drain you again.
Suck, suck. Suck, suck.
Director Hwang’s gaze dropped to Seonwook’s lips.
Soon, he released Seonwook’s cheek and pressed his thumb against his lips, tracing them. The pressure on the wound made it throb, and Seonwook winced slightly.
“You’re the type who invites trouble for no reason.”
Director Hwang spoke softly, then moved his thumb to Seonwook’s chest, pressing down along his sternum.
When Director Hwang pulled his hand away and took a step back, Seonwook looked down at his shirt. A streak of blood stained the fabric.
“Do you have a bad memory?”
Seonwook grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up to his neck.
“Does this jog your memory?”
Director Hwang’s gaze traveled down Seonwook’s exposed chest and stomach before returning to his face.
“Why are you so obsessed?”
“Because you keep pretending not to remember.”
“What would change if I remembered you?”
“It’s disappointing. You saved my life the first time I came to this strange place, but you disappeared before I could even thank you. And then we suddenly meet again. I’m overjoyed, but why do you keep pretending not to know me?”
“……”
“Thanks to you, I’m doing well. I didn’t lose anything except my jersey and sneakers. If it weren’t for you that day, I would’ve been completely screwed. So I want to repay you somehow… Let’s go somewhere and—”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
