Chapter 171
Han Hyeon-woo overslept, having turned off his morning alarm while half-asleep. He hurriedly got ready and barely made it to the dining room on time.
The mansion’s employees were gathered for breakfast. Their unusually excited atmosphere and flushed appearances seemed strange.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, Ian,” Carol cheerfully responded to Hyeon-woo’s greeting.
“Did something happen while I was away? Everyone looks so happy.”
“Oh, is it that obvious?” Carol laughed awkwardly and leaned in to whisper to Hyeon-woo.
“Actually, the manager came by earlier and guess what? We all get three days of paid leave starting tomorrow!”
“…Leave?”
“Yes, I almost screamed with joy. I’m thinking of going on a trip.”
Sudden paid leave? It must be because of Tae-geon’s surgery.
“They said we can go out right after work, so we’re planning to leave as soon as our shift ends. What about you, Ian? The manager asked us to let you know they’ll prepare a vehicle.”
“Ah, I’ll travel separately. Don’t worry about me.”
Hyeon-woo declined and went to the kitchen with Scott to prepare Tae-geon’s meal.
Perhaps due to the mansion’s different atmosphere, Hyeon-woo felt even more on edge than usual. In fact, he hadn’t slept well the night before, tense about Tae-geon’s surgery approaching tomorrow.
However, unlike him, Tae-geon seemed no different than usual. He appeared calm, not nervous at all. Unable to hold back anymore, Hyeon-woo blurted out during dinner:
“Aren’t you scared?”
Tae-geon looked at him as if asking for clarification.
“I mean the surgery tomorrow. Aren’t you nervous?”
“Why? Are you scared?” Tae-geon asked with a faint smile.
Hyeon-woo nodded honestly. “A little. It’s a major surgery. They’ll use general anesthesia. Aren’t you worried about whether it will go well, if your eyesight will properly return?”
Despite Hyeon-woo’s concerned voice, Tae-geon’s indifferent face seemed like he was listening to someone else’s story. If anything, he looked somewhat satisfied.
“You seem worried about me.”
Hyeon-woo’s brow furrowed at the frivolous remark. He remembered receiving a similar question before. When Tae-geon had pretended to be sick and upset everyone, then asked if Hyeon-woo had been worried. Hyeon-woo had deliberately been cold then. Seemingly never tiring of it, Tae-geon asked the same thing again, and Hyeon-woo replied grumpily:
“Yes. Because I’m the one who insisted on this surgery.”
As soon as he said it, Hyeon-woo felt like he was facing the true source of his unease.
So this was it. The reason he’d been on edge all day, unable to sleep before Tae-geon’s surgery. Yes, rather than worrying about Tae-geon, he was clearly afraid of the responsibility that would fall on him.
“If the results aren’t good, it’s my responsibility.”
He felt cowardly, but thought their relationship warranted such feelings.
Wasn’t theirs a relationship formed by agreement, to avoid burdening each other with guilt or responsibility?
But Tae-geon’s expression hardened strangely, as if his thoughts differed from Hyeon-woo’s. Breaking the silence, Tae-geon said:
“I’m doing this because I want to.”
“…”
“So you don’t need to worry about what happens afterward.”
Tae-geon’s tone became as cold as Hyeon-woo’s, but his eyes still flickered with undiminished heat towards Hyeon-woo.
“You haven’t forgotten our promise, have you?”
Hyeon-woo quickly pulled back as Tae-geon’s hand reached for his cheek.
“No. I haven’t forgotten.”
Hyeon-woo’s voice sounded distant now, and Tae-geon’s expression turned bitter as he slowly withdrew his hand left hanging in the air.
“Then that’s fine. Even if the results aren’t good, nothing will change from how things are now.”
His detached response, as if letting go of everything, made Hyeon-woo feel like his heart had dropped to the ground.
If Tae-geon had shown anger at his current situation, shouted and resented him, Hyeon-woo wouldn’t have felt this way. After all, intense emotional reactions prove an attachment to life. But Tae-geon showed no signs of that at all.
His eyes staring into space were empty, seeming to have lost all interest in the repetitive, boring daily life.
The only time Tae-geon’s eyes lit up with life and passion was when he looked at Hyeon-woo. Even then, they always ended up falling away, filled with resignation. Each time, Hyeon-woo was overcome with an unbearable feeling.
It was difficult to leave Tae-geon be when he looked like he had given up on life, or more precisely… like he had let go of himself.
He couldn’t understand why. He felt uncomfortable with Tae-geon’s gaze directed at him, yet at the same time, he feared the last spark of heat in those eyes might fade away. While trying not to get attached and treating Tae-geon coldly, he was also anxious about possibly losing this constant warmth directed at him.
Thinking he couldn’t understand himself at all, Hyeon-woo carefully grasped Tae-geon’s hand that had fallen limply.
Tae-geon’s shoulders stiffened in surprise at the contact with Hyeon-woo, who had suddenly changed his attitude after coldly ignoring him before. Pretending not to notice, Hyeon-woo spoke:
“Still, I hope the surgery goes well.”
“…”
“So, do well in tomorrow’s surgery.”
Tae-geon’s eyebrow twitched, as if Hyeon-woo’s encouragement was unexpected. Hyeon-woo felt through his palm that Tae-geon was clenching his fist tightly.
*
From early dawn, unfamiliar vans began arriving in front of the mansion, which had become even more desolate after most of the employees had left.
Hyeon-woo, who hadn’t slept all night, got up and headed towards the source of the thumping noise he’d been hearing. Workers in uniforms were going in and out of the mansion, turning one of the basement rooms into a sterile room. As he watched the operating room being filled with unfamiliar medical equipment, Hyeon-woo recalled what Hak-gyu had said.
It wasn’t just a transplant of part of the tissue like the cornea or iris, but a complete eyeball transplant into the eye socket. Since the eyeball was made by cloning Tae-geon’s stem cells, there wouldn’t be side effects from immune reactions, but Hak-gyu had expressed concern several times that the difficulty of the surgery itself was quite challenging even for the Taeryeong Group. It was a major operation that would take over six hours.
Hyeon-woo frowned, feeling his stomach churn again as he remembered Hak-gyu saying that if the transplanted eyeball didn’t properly connect with the optic nerve, it would soon shrivel up like a dried jujube.
Tae-geon had said it wouldn’t make a difference even if the surgery went wrong, but Hyeon-woo didn’t think so.
If this surgery performed by Taeryeong failed, the chances of Tae-geon regaining his sight would be virtually non-existent. Since there were no other alternatives to replace Taeryeong, it meant he would never be able to see again.
As dawn began to break, there was another commotion outside the mansion.
Hyeon-woo, who hadn’t slept a wink all night, pulled back the curtains and peered outside. Several large sedans with heavy exhaust notes stopped in front of the mansion.
The people of advanced age getting out of the cars exuded an undeniable experience and expertise. Hyeon-woo immediately recognized them as Taeryeong’s authorities who would be performing this surgery.
Watching them enter the mansion, Hyeon-woo hurriedly left the room. It was too early to visit Tae-geon’s room, but he couldn’t wait any longer.
Knock, knock.
He opened the door hastily before the voice telling him to come in had even finished.
Tae-geon was sitting on the bed in a patient gown, with a long metal pole on wheels next to him. A thin tube extended from a transparent IV bag hanging at the top, connected to the inside of Tae-geon’s right elbow.
Identifying who it was just from the sound of footsteps entering the room, Tae-geon asked.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
