“I don’t.”
……Why was he hiding it? Did he hate him so much that he acted like he didn’t exist? I wanted to ask more, but I barely restrained my curiosity and popped a snack into my mouth. Jin-wook, unable to look away from me, ordered more snacks.
Heon, who had asked so earnestly about family, seemed satisfied with Jin-wook’s answer and didn’t ask further. Not that I had much to say either. All I knew was that I’d lived alone with my mom as a kid, and now that she was gone, my aunt took care of me. It wasn’t the kind of story to bring up in this setting—it would just kill the mood. And the fact that my aunt had no obligation to support me was a secret I shouldn’t spread around.
The family talk ended quickly, and the conversation naturally shifted back to basketball. I occasionally chimed in while fiddling with my phone. Jin-wook, usually loud, had gone quiet. He kept glancing at me, and every time I looked up, he pretended to be busy with the snacks. He was clearly still thinking about my question. If I just outright said I knew his brother was Hae-joon, what would his reaction be? I didn’t have a habit of prying into others’ secrets, so I kept it to myself.
The drinking session deepened. Even the little I’d drunk was making me tipsy. Jin-wook’s face flushed red.
“My dad was a famous magician.”
“I know.”
“I never thought he’d go like that.”
Jin-wook always brought up his dad when drunk, but he usually stopped at bragging. Today, for some reason, the story went on longer. I responded a beat late:
“That bastard?”
“There’s a psycho. I want to kill him.”
I almost asked, “Hae-joon?” This simpleton thought I wouldn’t catch on if he talked like this. Or maybe he was just so drunk he was spilling secrets he’d wanted to hide. I wanted to keep talking about it, but even in his drunken state, he avoided mentioning Hae-joon, and the topic shifted. Jin-wook glared at Heon, who was picking at seafood pancake across the table, then snatched his plate and shouted:
“Give me the seafood pancake. Siwoo likes this.”
……Why was I even brought up? And it was completely wrong. I didn’t even like seafood, but I didn’t bother correcting him. Jin-wook, who usually didn’t hide his dislike, was being oddly picky. I grabbed his arm to stop him from nitpicking.
“Ah, stop bullying the juniors.”
“Ugh, that bastard’s eyes are fucking annoying.”
“Say that to his face. Heon, ignore him.”
“I don’t care. I don’t like this hyung either.”
Trying to stop the fight between drunk Jin-wook and the unusually angry Heon drained me. The sober seniors and juniors all jumped in to mediate, but in the end, Jin-wook, unable to control his anger, punched Heon in the cheek. Heon, momentarily stunned, lost his temper and kicked Jin-wook. Someone called the police, and we ended up at the station in the middle of the night just for being part of the group.
We waited until Jin-wook sobered up. The now-sober Jin-wook apologized awkwardly to Heon, and the annoyed Heon, for our sake, reluctantly accepted. By the time everything was settled and Heon and I returned to our dorm, the sun was already high in the sky.
Neither Heon nor I spoke a word as we climbed the narrow stairs of the one-room apartment. The shadows under our eyes reached our feet. My exhausted face recalled the class schedule. There was no way I could attend in this state.
When we reached the fifth floor, I turned to Heon and said:
“Go in. Sleep well.”
“……Sorry about today. What about your class?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. And…… Jin-wook’s always like that. If he quits the club over this…… well, I won’t say anything. In a year, he’ll be too busy preparing for a job to even show up. I can’t ask you to put up with it—it’s shameless.”
“I’m not quitting. Besides, basketball is fun, and I got an apology.”
I would’ve quit in a huff if I were him. He was too nice. I ruffled Heon’s hair affectionately, then quickly pulled my hand away. Heon, looking embarrassed, fiddled with the hair I’d touched.
“You go in first.”
“……Okay. Sleep well.”
“Yeah.”
I left Heon behind and entered my place. The sharp gaze on the back of my head meant he was still watching me. The front door closed completely, and I took a cigarette from my pocket and placed it on top of the shoe rack. I tossed my shirt aside and kicked off my sneakers.
As soon as I got home, I dove into bed without washing up. I fell into a deep sleep, if only briefly.
But a few hours later, the loud ringing of the doorbell jolted me awake. My swollen eyes struggled to open as I crawled toward the jacket where my phone was. After digging through the pocket, I finally found my phone and answered without checking the caller, still half-asleep.
I was dead tired.
“Hello,” I mumbled. There was a brief pause, then the sound of someone inhaling sharply on the other end. The unknown caller was crying. I pulled the phone away from my ear to check the caller ID. Jeong Su-yeon.
My expression turned serious. This wasn’t just anyone. It was my girlfriend’s mother.
“……Su-yeon’s mom, right? You’re her boyfriend?”
The crying voice on the other end belonged to my girlfriend’s mother.
***
I tried to get up several times.
I could put most of my weight on my right leg and stand at an angle, but my left leg, even with the shackle removed, still couldn’t support me.
The area hidden by the black shackle was marked with a bright red scar. I realized this was the real shackle the man had left on me.
I kept touching the wound with my left hand. How long had it been since I got this scar?
Maybe it happened after I was locked up in this house, but I didn’t remember. Did it happen during the time my memories vanished?
But it didn’t hurt that much. What the hell had I gone through before being locked up here? My thoughts were tangled, but the whispering voices never stopped.
I covered my ears and screamed:
“Shut up and let me think!”
The whispers quieted. I lowered my hands and looked around. There was nothing. Nothing was there, but someone was talking to me.
I didn’t even know if I was sane or if the world had gone mad.
I’d fallen into a trap. I’d been so complacent in reality that I’d forgotten I was trapped.
I’d scoffed when the man said it would be nice if we needed each other. Now, shamefully, I’d started to need him. I touched my neck. There were no collars or shackles on my neck or ankle, but something was binding me.
This had to be some kind of trick—hypnosis or magic. I had to consider all possibilities and think realistically. I’d been completely fooled. My mind, my body—everything was tied to the man.
The bugs crawling around the room, the whispering voices, the grotesque eyeballs—all of it was part of the man’s plan to tame me.
Why had I given up so quickly? What was so special about my relationship with this man?
I was lazy and complacent. Pathetic and stupid. Self-loathing filled me, and the stench I’d smelled in the room before returned.
I covered my nose. When even the air I breathed through my mouth became unbearable, I held my breath until my vision blurred. I felt like I was dying. It was agonizing.
The room was still full of disgusting bugs, and invisible people were chattering.
Stupid. Stupid. Why did you give up so soon? Why are you withering away under that man? Why don’t you think about escaping?
Then, a rebellious thought struck me: Why should I have to endure this?
The one thing I had over the man in our relationship—
The man loved me.
What had seemed insignificant before now took on a new meaning. This was an opportunity. I had to use every advantage to escape. If I stayed here, I’d become an empty shell. My eyes, which had been dull with resignation for days, sharpened. I made up my mind. I had to escape.
If I could just get out, I could be free. I had to tell someone I was locked up. It wasn’t too late to give up.
Just a little longer. Just until the man let his guard down.
I would escape. No matter what.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
