#153
At Lee Han-sol’s explosive, irritable shout, everyone gathered around finally came to their senses. Those who had been engrossed in the two men as if watching a drama began hurriedly finding their proper places with embarrassed expressions. The Recovery Team people went to the recovery room, the Security Office staff to the security office, and Jang Eun-jun and Park Sang-yun to the Hunter Management Team.
“H-Hunter, please contact us if you need any help…!”
“Jang whatever-your-name-is, if you call me again, I’ll kill you!”
Except for Jang Eun-jun receiving death threats for unnecessarily trying to act friendly before leaving, no more commotion occurred there. Taking advantage of the quiet, the observant Ki Baek-woo hurriedly went to the bed and lay down. After confirming the empty corridor, Lee Han-sol belatedly entered the hospital room. The door closed with a bang from his angry touch.
Silence followed.
Lee Han-sol stood facing the door without turning around. He stood rigid like a mannequin, staring intently at the plain white sliding door. It was a silent back view—whether he was hesitating, contemplating, or simply trying to control his emotions because he was too angry was unclear. Ki Baek-woo leaned against the bed in an awkward position, neither lying down nor sitting up, glancing furtively at Lee Han-sol.
The prolonged silence made Ki Baek-woo uncomfortable. It seemed as if Lee Han-sol might leave at any moment out of boredom. Ki Baek-woo desperately wanted to keep him there, and thus felt compelled to please him. The last Lee Han-sol in Ki Baek-woo’s memory was a back view rapidly distancing himself, as if suppressing nausea before food that left a memory of indigestion. The one who had coldly disappeared as if he would never deal with someone like Ki Baek-woo again was right here now. It was like a miracle. And Ki Baek-woo thought, that’s hyung for you.
A back figure with clearly drawn lines. Even with just that, Ki Baek-woo vividly felt that he was alive.
Die, and die again, and after dying twenty-five times, seek forgiveness from Lee Han-sol; if forgiveness ultimately couldn’t be obtained, that would be the hopeless end. I don’t even deserve to exist. So then, I should truly disappear forever, completely annihilated without leaving a single strand of hair. Ki Baek-woo, having regained his memories, was moving solely on that desire.
The tragedy of not being able to be with Lee Han-sol, the anxiety that it would be forever so, and death. Death that must continue despite the pain. It hurts, I’m scared, I’m so afraid that only hyung’s rejection awaits at the end. How did hyung endure this? I feel like I’ve fallen into hell just from hyung’s cold gaze. Then how many hells has hyung fallen into all this time? How many times have I pushed hyung into hell? Does looking at me make you feel like you’re in hell?
Am I hyung’s hell?
Only such thoughts ravaged his consciousness. Because of that, Ki Baek-woo didn’t particularly feel human. His senses had dulled, and he felt like a filthy corpse that even cockroaches wouldn’t feed on.
But the moment he heard Lee Han-sol’s voice, the moment he saw him approaching with that cold appearance, Ki Baek-woo felt alive like a lie. He felt human. Each tiny nerve revived and began to recognize Lee Han-sol’s movements, expressions, sounds, scent—everything. The desire to live multiplied in his head like hatching maggots.
As expected, I need hyung.
Even if I’m hyung’s hell, stay with me… So Ki Baek-woo couldn’t waste this opportunity. He grew anxious. Somehow, he needed to say something that Lee Han-sol would like or find interesting, to make him want to stay longer. He needed to please him. But his mouth wouldn’t work as his mind wanted. He didn’t know what words were acceptable. If he said something that Lee Han-sol found unpleasant, if instead of forgiveness, he became angry and told him not to even think about him without permission…
Ki Baek-woo wandered between the urgency of needing to crawl on the floor and lick the soles of Lee Han-sol’s shoes and the fear that he should keep dead quiet. His fists clenched tightly, and cold sweat formed. Then he heard the sound of shoes dragging across the floor: swish, swish.
Ki Baek-woo looked up abruptly. Lee Han-sol was walking into the hospital room, dragging his shoes. A stupid gaze, as if smitten at first sight, followed his movements, until he pulled a chair from the side of the room, approached the bed, and sat down. Ki Baek-woo’s endless stare only dispersed when Lee Han-sol irritably tapped his foot and struck the floor with a thud. Pretending not to notice Lee Han-sol’s ill-fitting, loose shoes.
Lee Han-sol on a certain night, wearing a stranger’s clothes, not refusing the scarf that stranger wrapped around him. That scene, which remained like a stain in his vision and occasionally tormented Ki Baek-woo, came to mind, but he pretended otherwise.
Don’t think presumptuous thoughts. You still have a long way to go to reach twenty-five times. So now you don’t even have a chance, remember that, Ki Baek-woo.
Jealousy in your position? Get a grip, you disgusting bastard.
Ki Baek-woo chastised himself for thinking that he wanted to immediately remove those shoes from Lee Han-sol—shoes that might belong to that man—and lick, knead, and caress his feet all night until only his mark remained. Having such greedy thoughts when he had not even received sufficient punishment yet, having not even earned the right to ask for forgiveness, made him feel like a bug. Get a grip, you trash. He raised his hands and strongly slapped both his cheeks, causing a sharp friction sound.
And then, Lee Han-sol, who had been silently staring at him with an inscrutable attitude, suddenly opened his mouth.
“What are you doing?”
“Huh?”
Ki Baek-woo answered almost reflexively. The Lee Han-sol he looked at was glaring at him coldly, in an even more rigid posture than before. He looked twisted with irritation, as if he might get up and leave at any moment. Ki Baek-woo froze and could do nothing. Toward him, Lee Han-sol asked again.
“I said, what are you doing?”
A low, hardened voice.
Lee Han-sol seemed suddenly angry. Really suddenly…
Ki Baek-woo felt his heart pounding as if it would burst with tension. Somehow, he had to say something, anything. He had to apologize. He tried to trace back in time to see if he had done something wrong. He absolutely had to make a proper apology right now. He couldn’t make Lee Han-sol any angrier. He couldn’t commit any more wrongs. He had already committed too many sins. The things he needed to ask forgiveness for were piled up like mountains. Sins too horrific to even be granted the opportunity to beg forgiveness for, far too many.
He couldn’t add one more to that. If he did, Ki Baek-woo would fall to something worse than the worst in Lee Han-sol’s heart. Feeling cold sweat just from imagining it, he clasped his hands together.
I need to think, figure it out. What did I say? Was my gaze disrespectful? Did I show that I had killed Choi Tae-hyuk’s hyung in my mind over and over again without knowing my place? Was my expression disgusting? Please remember. Don’t disappoint hyung any more, please…
But Ki Baek-woo couldn’t grasp what his mistake was. He hadn’t done anything. Because Lee Han-sol had told him to, he had sat on the bed the whole time, and fearing he might offend him, he hadn’t said a word like an idiot. The fact that Lee Han-sol had come to see him seemed so dreamlike that he had merely followed his movements with his eyes. Because he wanted to see him forever, he couldn’t bear to look away.
Was that really a mistake? Does hyung now find even my gaze disgusting and creepy? I don’t know. I really…
Ki Baek-woo wanted to smash his useless head with a hammer. He desperately wondered if that would improve Lee Han-sol’s mood even a little, frantically thinking of anything. With narrowed vision, he anxiously surveyed his surroundings. No flower pots, glass cups, or common decorations were visible. Due to Ki Baek-woo’s self-harm, there was nothing easily breakable in his hospital room. The only thing visible was a lonely IV pole. Ki Baek-woo wanted to hand it to Lee Han-sol and tell him to hit him with it until his anger subsided. He begged as if being chased.
“…I’m sorry for staring, I’m sorry for staring, no, hyung, actually I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to lie. I’m sorry for making you angry.”
“You don’t know what it is, but you’re just sorry?”
Lee Han-sol snorted sharply.
“I’m sorry, you can do whatever you want until your anger subsides. Just don’t leave.”
Ki Baek-woo whispered in a shrinking voice. His complexion, which had briefly brightened upon seeing Lee Han-sol, darkened again. I hate myself, Ki Baek-woo thought. His facial muscles trembled like a spasm with anxiety.
“Ha.”
Lee Han-sol’s gaze, who had been taking deep breaths as if trying to suppress his rising emotions, landed on Ki Baek-woo again. He was clearly on edge, with an air of forcibly holding back his fury. He tapped his left cheek with his finger while glaring at him.
“This.”
At Lee Han-sol’s short, cutting words, Ki Baek-woo bit his lip. He looked at Lee Han-sol’s clean left cheek, then felt his own left cheek, but only felt the dressing band covering a torn wound, and finally shook his head as if he didn’t understand. Lee Han-sol twisted the corner of his mouth as if dumbfounded and gritted his teeth.
“This, why the hell did you do this?”
The slightly trembling end of his words revealed how much anger Lee Han-sol was suppressing. “Here, this.” His grinding voice gradually rose.
“This! What’s the reason for the shit you just did to your face! Why the hell did you mess with your injury to make it like this!”
As if he couldn’t bear it anymore, Lee Han-sol stood up abruptly and grabbed Ki Baek-woo’s face with a rough hand. It was a fierce grip, as if he absolutely wouldn’t let him off.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
