* * *
Since they had to arrive at the scene within 5 minutes of receiving a report, Kyung Jiho and Lee Dongjae decided to wait near Green Village.
At Cheongdam-dong Green Village, only registered vehicles could pass through the gate, and even after passing, they had to park in the private parking lot inside the villa. They insisted that someone inside was committing crimes and under investigation so they needed to wait inside, but the response was: “If we open the gate for you, whose house’s parking lot are you going to wait in next?”
Come to think of it, that made sense. They couldn’t stake out in Ji Seokhun’s parking space, and they couldn’t ask the famous actor living in the next building to let them use their parking lot for the next 48 hours. It was the kind of world where if you parked your car in front of any house and acted tough while claiming to be police, you’d immediately get reported to 112. The noble residents of Green Village would be more likely, not less, to do so.
Above all, there was no need to cause a scene by arguing with the security office manager and having Ji Seokhun come out wondering what was going on, so Kyung Jiho and Lee Dongjae had to back off for now.
In the end, they got permission to stake out in the underground parking lot of an apartment complex about a 2-minute drive from Green Village.
This place was no less exclusive than Green Village. They had difficulty even entering the parking lot due to strict security. After insisting and finally getting in, they could see why. Their small sedan, which was the most inconspicuous model for stakeouts and couldn’t be traced through vehicle registration, was so modest that it stood out—having the opposite effect of what they intended.
Anyway, they couldn’t let the distance get any greater, so they had no other choice.
After settling in through various difficulties, Lee Dongjae leaned back in his reclined seat and made himself comfortable. Although it was a stakeout, it was much more comfortable than the usual situation where they had to take turns blinking and monitor all directions. They just needed to keep their ears open, receive the report, and move out. Until then, they had time to spare.
The sound of his muscular body shifting against the seat was noisy. Thanks to that, before a silence worthy of the name could arrive, Lee Dongjae, who had kept his mouth shut for just a short time, asked Kyung Jiho, who was sitting quietly looking up various things on his phone:
“By the way, hyung, how did that initial blood sugar reading of 300 come about? Was it fabricated or a mistake?”
During the internal investigation, they had gone through all the scraps of magazines and newspaper articles related to Ji Seokhun. In the process, they learned how Ji Seokhun and Ji Geun-yeong became entangled as adoptive father and son. After an article about a doctor who was doing medical volunteer work publicly adopting a child diagnosed with juvenile diabetes, Ji Seokhun received a lot of attention and subsequently rose to become the youngest director of the Diabetes Association. He appeared on broadcasts several times and was called a “star doctor,” to the extent that now when you type “diabetes” in a portal search, “Ji Seokhun” appears as the top related search term. There was a sentence in a magazine interview from 18 years ago that said, “A blood sugar level of 300 was measured during a health check-up,” and that’s what Lee Dongjae was asking about.
“I don’t know. If it was fabricated from the beginning, he’s a deranged psychopath; if it was a mistake, he’s a selfish devil.”
Kyung Jiho was leaning toward the “selfish devil” theory about Ji Seokhun. The diabetes diagnosis was a mistake, and he had announced the adoption decision. But the detailed tests conducted afterward would have shown completely different results, and he couldn’t back out after already being in the spotlight. Just because, merely because, he didn’t want to ruin his career, for such a selfish reason, he trampled on a human being’s childhood. It was a devilish act.
Regardless of his speculation that it was probably a mistake, Kyung Jiho hoped it had been fabricated from the beginning. He hoped that bastard was a psychopath, that it was done in a state of emotional deficiency. He didn’t want to think it was done by a human with emotions. No matter how much the world was filled with inhuman humans, he didn’t want to believe there existed a human being that low.
Lee Dongjae, who was making noises shifting his body again, asked:
“That Jang Saetbyeol, I mean, did he seem fine to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m saying, if it were me, I would have gone crazy.”
Thanks to Lee Dongjae’s words, Kyung Jiho was reminded not of Ji Seokhun, whom he had been recalling and loathing all this time, but of Ji Geun-yeong, whom he had been trying not to think about. The one who was overly cautious even when left alone in an empty house, who fell asleep hugging his bag in a shrimp-like position, who startled like a fawn grazing in a field at the slightest word, who acted as if he was eating well and sleeping well, but who, while sleeping, stuck close to a stranger he barely knew and persistently pushed his feet under their legs.
“He’s not fine. That guy’s not normal either.”
“Ah, I see. Of course, that makes sense.”
Thinking about Ji Geun-yeong made something deep in his chest ache dully. His nose seemed to sting too. That’s why he had tried not to think about him.
Damn it.
After glaring at the tactless Lee Dongjae, Kyung Jiho turned his attention back to his phone. He was looking at the final precedents in cases such as island slavery or sexual exploitation of the physically disabled. Most were cases of fraud, abuse, assault, and confinement by those in power, and most were directed at those who were not mentally sound. He was worried that Ji Geun-yeong being a medical student might be disadvantageous in the verdict.
Above all, Ji Seokhun and Yeom Eunyeong’s backgrounds were stronger than expected. Especially Yeom Eunyeong’s family, which extended into political circles. If they happened to get the wrong prosecutor or judge, it seemed possible that the prosecution or the court might back down first.
He thought they might have to go for a public trial if necessary. Of course, he was worried about the guy who would be stripped naked before the public, but since he was brave, he would be fine.
He checked the time. It was past 10 PM. Since they were predicting a replacement between 48 and 72 hours, it probably wouldn’t be tonight.
He wondered what Ji Geun-yeong was doing right now, how he was getting along. He had told him to capture the insulin replacement scene on camera. Hearing that, he worried that the naive guy might be enduring abuse occurring outside the scheduled times.
The red marks on his wrists flashed before his eyes. He remembered the scratches on his thighs that he had pulled down his T-shirt to hide. Again, his nose stung.
“Hyung, do you have rhinitis? You’re surprisingly delicate.”
Damn it.
* * *
Geun-yeong stayed holed up in his room except during meal times. As if challenging the camera, he sat at his desk without moving an inch. With a book that he wasn’t really reading open in front of him, he stared at the empty desk beyond the book. With his gaze fixed there, he was focused on the object that was still uncomfortable and cumbersome despite having lived with it for 18 years.
The old-model machine had a loud motor sound. No matter how loud, it wasn’t something he would normally hear. But in the complete silence where he sat alone without even making breathing sounds, it was as loud as water heard from right in front of a dam.
Listening to the motor sound that kept running, he wondered: is it really saline solution? Could Detective Kyung have made a mistake? It wasn’t that he didn’t want to believe it. He desperately wanted to believe his words, but he just couldn’t bring himself to.
The past 18 years. He had never been happy while in this house. Every moment of having to follow the man’s principles and conform to his standards was burdensome and painful. Still, he thought he was being loved. He thought it was the man’s way of loving him. Sometimes it was violently unbearable, but he thought that was just another form of love.
As time passed, from the moment he realized that what the man was doing was different in nature from the affection a parent bestows upon a child in the name of parenthood, his teeth chattered and he felt nauseous, but he still endured. He thought he should repay because the man had given him things, because he had received things from him. So he endured and endured the disgusting acts.
But if what’s in this machine right now is not insulin. If he truly didn’t have diabetes. Then what on earth were all the things the man did to him?
The pump and the monitor are items difficult to obtain in Korea. He had purchased expensive items by begging company employees, installed three illegal apps, and linked them to monitor blood sugar remotely and control the pump. Every three days, he replaced the needle and insulin, and every seven days, he replaced the sensor.
That man had done this for 18 years. It was a task requiring considerable effort and patience not only for himself, who had to live with this machine, but also for the man who managed it to this extent. He wondered why the man had to deceive him while going through such trouble and patience, while making such waste. Out of a bit of gratitude for having been fed, clothed, and educated, he tried to think from the man’s perspective, but he just couldn’t understand. Why did he do such a thing? Why did he have to do such a thing to him? And why was he such a fool to be deceived?
Unable to figure out why the man had to deceive him, Geun-yeong now began to blame and demean himself for being such a fool who was deceived. Soon after, what little self-esteem remained began to struggle. He recalled a few experiences that made him believe he had diabetes.
There were times when he collapsed from hypoglycemic shock and times when his blood sugar soared to dangerous hyperglycemia. Such things definitely happened. Because of those incidents, he never imagined, even in dreams, that he might not have diabetes. He had experienced hypoglycemia and hyperglycemia and the fear of death they caused. That’s why he had to rely on the man’s hands. He had to follow the man’s words and endure his violence and uncomfortable acts.
However, assuming that what’s attached to his stomach right now is really physiological saline solution and that he truly doesn’t have diabetes, looking back on those situations, they were things that could be sufficiently fabricated. For someone who could easily obtain insulin and glucagon and use them freely, it was a trick that could be created very simply.
The day he went into hypoglycemic shock was a day when he had angered the man. So he was beaten badly, the pump fell off, and the insulin needed to be replaced. Afterward, the man made him skip meals as punishment for not listening to him. Although he didn’t feel hungry at all, he trembled watching the clock in fear of hypoglycemia, and then collapsed.
If what the man had replaced then was real insulin. And if he had deliberately starved him to create that situation with the intention of deceiving him.
Geun-yeong clenched his trembling hands, shaking with rage. The sound of paper crumpling in his palm drowned out the motor noise that seemed to be desperately trying to hide the truth.
If it was true, if what was really inside was just saline solution, if he didn’t actually have diabetes, he could never forgive the man no matter what excuses he made for all his self-proclaimed efforts over the years.
Just as the severely crumpled page was about to tear,
The door opened without a knock. Geun-yeong didn’t turn around. The helper had gone home, and the woman was crying in her locked room. It was obvious who had entered without looking.
“Take a break.”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
