Delusive Fate

#125

You don’t like being alone. How about we eat ice cream and watch movies all night?

Choi Tae-hyun always made such suggestions with a friendly smile. The problem was that Han-sol had lived crookedly for too long. The more benevolent Tae-hyun was, the more Han-sol felt an inexplicable rebelliousness rising, and just when it was about to burst, Tae-hyun would ghostly add:

“If you’re going home, take Ppomi too. You’re okay with being with Ppomi, right? It’s fine since Han-sol will come again tomorrow anyway.”

Since Ppomi likes Han-sol too. Watching Tae-hyun finish his words like that, Han-sol somehow felt uncomfortable, as if Tae-hyun was treating him like a clueless teenager. But since getting angry either way would be a bit ridiculous, Han-sol would eventually clamp his mouth shut and head home with Ppomi. Normally, he would have made a scene by yelling regardless of the consequences, so this was truly remarkable progress.

These days, Han-sol felt that among his five major mental disorders, his anger management issues had significantly improved. He thought it was probably thanks to doing art activities, playing “Chopsticks,” and becoming more cultured.

In truth, since he was stuck at Tae-hyun’s house and not wandering around like before, there was no way to confirm whether this was really the case. But since Han-sol used to not know what to do when his temper flared even when he was just sitting quietly alone, it could be considered progress that such incidents had decreased considerably. And surprisingly, Han-sol had a forward-thinking idea.

Now that I’ve become a cultured man, I should overcome the immediate problems.

Han-sol was determined not to act as Jung Yi-dam wanted. He thought over and over again that he would get revenge somehow. When he, a mere nothing who was easily played with, went against the oh-so-great Jung Yi-dam, he wanted to see how that bastard would react. Imagining Yi-dam becoming enraged and resenting him made him feel like he could almost cry.

Anyway, therefore, Han-sol had to die. Die as always according to the predetermined story, and after dying, he would return again, and after returning, he would live alone again, separated from Baek-woo.

Although he had failed miserably this time, it was certainly because it was his first time living alone. Han-sol thought it wasn’t because he was an idiot who couldn’t do anything without Baek-woo, but because it was truly the first time he had taken time for himself, for his own sake—he was just clumsy with something unfamiliar he’d never done before. That’s what he believed. So he resolved to use this already messed up situation as an opportunity to get used to living alone, so that from the next round, he would lead the happy single life he had imagined, enjoying peace quietly somewhere secluded without any problems.

For Han-sol, who always had been consumed by immediate suffering, thinking only about killing this bastard, cursing that bastard, and destroying the Earth, this was nothing short of brilliant growth.

“It’s fucking annoying how the landlord keeps grinning…”

Han-sol made an irritated face as he recalled Tae-hyun looking at him with a gentle smile. Lately, Tae-hyun often smiled contentedly for no reason, and Han-sol really didn’t like that face. It felt like the gaze of a prison officer looking at a reformed criminal. Though he was tolerating it for Ppomi’s sake, if Tae-hyun continued to irritate him in that way, Han-sol couldn’t help it. Whether Tae-hyun was a kind idiot who collected trash like Han-sol as Tae-hyuk had said or not, Han-sol would have to discipline him like when they first met. With such thoughts, Han-sol said to Ppomi:

“Ppomi, tell your dad to stop provoking me. Tell him to chill out.”

Pant pant pant. Ppomi, who got an extra night walk thanks to Han-sol, was so busy with nose work that she didn’t even look back.

‘By the way, the neighborhood is quiet these days.’

There aren’t any bastards to vent on. It’s a bit boring. Han-sol looked around the quiet and peaceful surroundings with displeasure. Thanks to Han-sol acting as a dark vigilante for a while, beating up all kinds of trash, this area was enjoying unprecedented pleasantness.

Road rage drivers who provoked anger, groups of punks who spat on the streets creating discomfort, life-failure psychopaths who picked on cats and dogs for no reason… all had stopped their activities in this neighborhood quite a while ago after getting a taste of Han-sol. Even during the 30 minutes walking around the neighborhood with Ppomi, Han-sol didn’t notice any illegally dumped garbage, a chronic problem in the residential area.

“…Ppomi, does your dad still clean up other people’s trash?”

Han-sol, who became somehow dissatisfied despite the absence of people he wanted to beat up being a good thing, asked Ppomi. It was something even Ppomi didn’t know—that Tae-hyun, who used to receive all kinds of complaint texts from tenants, had recently been receiving thank-you messages after Han-sol moved in—so no answer came back. It was at that moment, as they were heading home in such a desolate state.

Pant pant.

Ppomi, who had been happily walking forward, was forced to stop by the leash that wasn’t following. Ppomi looked back at Han-sol with eyes that seemed to ask what he was doing, but Han-sol wasn’t looking at Ppomi. He was looking at a figure crouched under a streetlight up ahead.

That bastard…. Han-sol frowned as he cursed inwardly. He stared at the somehow familiar figure. This wasn’t the first time Han-sol had seen him there like that. How many times now? One, two… it seemed like he’d seen him about four times. Searching his memory, Han-sol recalled the first time he saw him. It was when he was at Tae-hyun’s house.

The streetlight where the man always crouched was located not far from Tae-hyun’s villa, and it was a place clearly visible from the kitchen window of Tae-hyun’s house.

A few days ago, when Han-sol happened to look out the window while bringing a cup of water to the sink, the man caught his eye for the first time. One can’t imagine how much that ruined Han-sol’s mood. Han-sol felt the emotion he’d been pretending not to know, while cultivating his manners like practicing a discipline, suddenly reveal its face. The emotion had Baek-woo’s face.

Memories he had tried to forget somehow because nothing could be resolved. Reality. The guy who had clung to him with his heart in shambles. That bastard who begged miserably as if he had nothing, not even himself. With sad eyes murky like sand in water, interlocking his pinky with Han-sol’s in promise to his lies… that boy from the last day.

That most familiar figure rushed toward Han-sol, pitch black, along with the hundreds of millions of emotions Han-sol had felt toward Baek-woo. Han-sol could recognize Baek-woo anywhere. Even if all the humans in this world were gathered and Baek-woo was hidden somewhere among them, Han-sol was confident he could recognize him. Tragically, it really was so. And that man sitting carelessly under the yellow streetlight in the darkened late hour… resembled Baek-woo.

Enough to think it was Baek-woo.

It can’t be.

Han-sol denied it.

There’s no way.

That’s what he thought.

I did everything I could to make sure he couldn’t find anything out. And…

‘…If he could come looking for me, he would have come already.’

Han-sol couldn’t identify the emotion stirring in his solar plexus. He didn’t want to know either. Tae-hyuk’s voice echoed.

‘You ruined Baek-woo.’

That voice that had blamed him with overflowing sincerity. The current state of Baek-woo that he had never wanted to hear but was repeatedly told about. That he was a mess. That he didn’t know what to do with his desire to die. That it was because Han-sol left Baek-woo, betrayed him, that he became like that. Then Jung Yi-dam’s voice rang in his ears. Baek-woo, each time, had died… Enough. Han-sol shook his head and said.

Stop thinking about it. It’s all over anyway. That’s not Baek-woo, and Baek-woo can’t come here, so don’t think about it unnecessarily. Don’t think about anything beyond the fact that it’s over. Don’t lose your mind just because things got a bit better.

Han-sol tried to convince himself that there was nothing under the streetlight. And he decided never to look beyond Tae-hyun’s kitchen window again. That man probably wouldn’t be sitting there again anyway… unless he was stalking someone. That’s what he thought.

But the next day, the day after that, and the day after that too. At the time when Han-sol had seen that streetlight that day, he found himself standing in Tae-hyun’s kitchen without realizing it. He looked out the window. He saw the man sitting under the streetlight like a wet cotton doll. The man who resembled Baek-woo.

That man was not beyond the window now, but right in front of Han-sol’s eyes.

Thump, thump, thummp. His heart beat very low and heavy. He couldn’t distinguish whether it was discomfort, fear, or an unbearable anger slowly rising. What was clear was that Han-sol couldn’t just leave that man alone. He wanted to either beat him to death, just kill him, or somehow get rid of him from his sight.

“Fucking stalker bastard…”

Han-sol’s breathing quickened. Ppomi whined softly as if asking why they weren’t moving forward. Han-sol took off one of his slippers. He aimed. And threw it.

Thwack, a sound was made. The slipper hit roughly against the shoulder that would look like Baek-woo’s if muscles were attached to it, then bounced off. Han-sol shouted fiercely:

“You bastard, you’re stalking here because you want to die. Are you crazy to die?”