4
I was a bit taken aback by his ferocious expression—I’d never seen him look like that before.
Is this how someone should react when being thanked? Why was he suddenly acting this way? Was my impending death that shocking to him? I’m the one dying, so why does he look more indignant and resentful than I do?
Bewildered, I couldn’t think of what to say, so I just stammered, “Uh, um…”
“I haven’t done anything, so why are you thanking me? Turning a blind eye and staying silent is also a sin. I’m just as guilty.”
It was becoming increasingly difficult to understand what he was saying. I grew confused, while his mood visibly darkened.
“Hey, I’m fine. It’s not like I’m dying right this minute. Who knows? I might hang on month by month and easily live another half year. More importantly, you’re the one who needs to calm down. Are you on something? Why are you acting like this?”
As I spoke lightly to him—who seemed to fluctuate between worrying about me, getting angry, and then becoming depressed and slumping—I quietly slipped my hand out of his grip.
“Ah, I didn’t take my medication today. I didn’t want to because it makes my head feel heavy. I’m sorry.”
Well, that’s not really something to apologize to me for. So he really was on medication. I guess he wasn’t entirely normal after all. Somehow, the person before me was becoming increasingly frightening.
“I… I don’t think our meeting was a coincidence. I thought it was at first, but now I know it wasn’t. We were meant to meet. There was a reason we had to meet.”
Suddenly? Out of nowhere like this? It was hard to get used to such abrupt developments. It felt like a confession might follow at any moment.
I’m not gay, I have no interest in men, I’m a terminal patient with a set date for my death, and on top of that, he’s an Omega and I’m a Beta.
Afraid of what might come out of his mouth, I stepped half a step back with a sour expression.
“Jaehee. Min Jaehee.”
“…What?”
My lips parted in surprise at hearing my name from his mouth, though I’d never told him what it was.
“What are you? How did you know my name…?”
Though he had spoken it himself, he seemed uncertain, and my question appeared to confirm something for him as his face grew even more despondent.
“The photo, do you remember the photo you showed me? That’s why I wondered.”
“Photo?”
What photo is he talking about? After pondering for a moment, I recalled the photo I had shown him recently.
A picture with my parents. The only photo I own. My parents smiling brightly while holding little me in their arms. I don’t even remember when it was taken, but it’s the only trace of my family that remains in photographic form.
“What about that photo? How did you know my name from it? How could you possibly know?”
My name isn’t written on it or anything. What connection could there be between that photo and knowing my name? Despite my pressing, he just shook his head.
“I’m sorry. But I can’t do it. I can’t tell you. Didn’t I just say it? That turning a blind eye and staying silent is also a sin. I’m a sinner too.”
“Hey!”
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I need to go.”
With those words, he turned and ran away unsteadily. I stood there dazed, as if I’d been punched in the head, before suddenly snapping back to my senses.
“Hey, wait a second. Stop, I said!”
Besides my curiosity, I was also worried about him since he clearly wasn’t in a good state.
The driver who usually stuck close to him was nowhere to be seen today, unusually absent from his post. They say even dog shit isn’t around when you need it—the guy who appeared so promptly to catch me when I was trying to steal a wallet was nowhere to be found today.
I shouldn’t let him go like this. Didn’t they assign him an attendant specifically so he wouldn’t go around alone? After looking around for the driver, I realized I might lose track of him too if I delayed any longer, so I started running after him.
Despite usually not seeming very athletic, today he ran exceptionally well, as if he’d eaten something energizing. I was even panting as I chased after him. My chest felt tight and I fought back a cough.
Far from closing the distance, I had to struggle just to keep him in sight. Normally, this level of running would be nothing for me, but cancer was apparently consuming not only my life but my stamina as well. My labored breathing was painful to my own ears.
After running aimlessly, he climbed up onto a pedestrian overpass and suddenly stopped. Standing there blankly, staring at the cars rushing below the overpass, he looked like a puppet with its strings cut.
“Hey, what are you doing standing there?”
I approached cautiously while calling out to him. When I was about five or six steps away, he turned his head to look at me.
“You should go home. Your driver will be looking for you.”
“I think we shouldn’t have met.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m sorry I stole your wallet. I had to do it to survive, but it was still wrong. I regret it, I really do.”
“It would have been better not to know. No, at least if you weren’t dying, it would have been okay.”
I’m not dead yet. I wish he’d stop treating me like I’m already gone.
The guy was speaking incoherently, looking half out of his mind and unstable, so I tried to smile and casually responded with “Yeah, yeah,” going along with whatever he was saying.
“Hey, let’s go home. Your driver is looking for you, I’m telling you.”
As if affirming my words, a ringtone sounded from his pocket. I looked at him as if to say “See? I’m right,” but he paid no attention to the insistently ringing phone. Instead of answering it, he climbed laboriously onto the railing of the overpass.
What is he doing right now?
Seeing what was happening before my eyes, I momentarily froze in shock.
“Hey… what are you doing?”
“I don’t want to live. I hate getting married, I hate living while always being mindful of others, I’m sick of acting according to my parents’ words. I hate my older brother who looks at me like I’m a bug, and I hate my younger brother who bullies me. It’s terrifying to be monitored in case I might roll around with an Alpha while giving off pheromones.”
Yeah, okay. I understand how suffocating your life is, but why suddenly? Why such a sudden explosion leading to a suicide attempt? And in front of me, someone who doesn’t even know if he’ll die today or tomorrow.
I wondered if it was because of the medication he said he hadn’t taken today. If the medication was this important, someone should have made sure he took it. I don’t understand what the people around him were doing to let him get to this state.
“Just try to calm down first. Your emotions seem to be all over the place today. This will just become an embarrassing memory over time, I promise. Turn your foot this way and come down. Should we go get coffee? I have some time today, want to go eat together?”
“…I know you’re a good person.”
Precariously seated on the railing, he turned to me and smiled.
“That’s why I hoped you would live well. I thought that even if your past was difficult, you could have a better life going forward. You deserve that much.”
“Yeah, thanks. Then how about we talk in detail about my better life? Over coffee maybe?”
If he came down from that railing, I felt like I could talk about plans for next year that might not even come. What am I saying about next year? I could even make ten-year plans.
“The accident. If not for that accident, at least you wouldn’t be like this.”
“…What accident?”
“The accident with your parents.”
Ah, my head really hurts. I don’t understand why the conversation keeps jumping around like this. Not knowing which beat to follow, I just nodded and said, “Yeah, sure.”
“That person never showed any remorse. They talked about it as if it was something to be proud of, like some heroic tale. After completely ruining someone else’s life, they had the nerve to…”
“Wait, what did you just say?”
I felt like I’d just heard something extremely important. As if he somehow knew about my parents’ accident, as if he knew about the hit-and-run driver who had never been caught.
“But I couldn’t speak up. I couldn’t tell the truth. I’m the shameless one. I knew but didn’t say anything, making excuses that I wasn’t certain. I told myself it was in the past, that we should leave it be. That the future was more important. I consoled myself by thinking that if you could live better than you are now, it would be okay, and I just…”
“Do you know who it is? …The perpetrator of the traffic accident? You? How?”
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
“…Who is it?”
At my question, he quietly shook his head. One step, then another. Before I could get close enough to pull him down, the body before my eyes disappeared. I hastily reached out and managed to grab his thin wrist.
A scream echoed from far below the overpass. My ears went numb at the sound of a car horn. I also vaguely saw people rushing up onto the overpass.
If you’re going to help, come a little faster.
The strength was leaving my grip. My body, half-suspended over the railing, wavered.
“Who is it? Who’s the perpetrator?!”
“…I’m sorry.”
Despite my urgent questioning, he refused to speak until the end. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He kept mumbling apologies as if copying and pasting the same words.
I can say sorry too. When I first stole someone’s wallet, I repeated “I’m sorry” dozens of times in my mind. That’s how I know how futile and meaningless the word “sorry” is.
My body shook violently. As his wrist began to slip from my grasp, I grabbed it more firmly, but at the same moment, the frail body hanging over the railing tumbled over the edge.
Something powerful struck the body as it fell rapidly toward the ground. With a thud, the body bounced up as if soaring into the sky, and for the first time, I felt freedom. Just like when I was very young and held in my mother’s arms, like lying in a downy blanket, like floating on clouds—it felt so peaceful.
In this moment, I didn’t think about the weight I had been carrying, or the unidentified perpetrator of the accident, or the regrets of my life with only days remaining.
As my eyelids grew heavy and closed, I let go of everything and smiled.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
