1 – Chapter 1

The phone rang tediously in the darkness. Hae-won lay face down on the bed. A hand resting lightly on his bare back gently brushed against his wing bone. A signal to get up and answer the phone. Hae-won didn’t move.

The ringing continued without stopping. Realizing it wouldn’t give up until answered, the man, who had been slowly rousing from a shallow sleep, finally groaned and sat up in Hae-won’s stead.

“Leave it.”

Hae-won was awake. He felt the man’s hesitant gaze looking down at him. Hae-won spoke again.

“Leave it. It’ll stop eventually.”

“It’s already the second time.”

To be precise, it was the third.

The ringing had faded, stopped, and after a few minutes’ interval, was now continuing for the third time. The people who called Hae-won were a fixed set. The man lying next to him, the stepmother who called to give him his monthly living allowance as if tossing scraps to a beggar, an acquaintance from the same high school, and other miscellaneous contacts.

The current call was likely from the high school alumnus. He usually called late at night. He was the same type as Hae-won. A man who got aroused looking at men and found release through men.

Ah, bothersome.

Hae-won flipped the pillow over his head and burrowed deeper into a place with nowhere left to burrow. He sought refuge from the things that bothered him.

The man, who had raised his upper body, kissed Hae-won’s bare lower back and got out of bed. Refusing the spacious residence provided by the record company, the man was staying at a hotel.

When he came to Korea, for weeks if long, days if short, he usually stayed at this hotel. On the floor just below the executive lounge, he tried to use the same room whenever possible.

Hae-won’s phone was not in the bedroom but on the meeting room table. The man hadn’t even taken a few steps away from the bed when the ringing stopped. Still, he stubbornly went all the way to the meeting room and brought the phone back.

Hae-won tossed the pillow aside and rolled over, looking disheveled. The clock on the wall pointed to two in the morning. He held Hae-won’s phone and sat leaning against the bed’s headboard. His expression showed he was fully awake now.

Hae-won just stared blankly at the man who was looking through his phone without any consent.

“…Lee Tae-shin? Who is it?”

The man’s eyes, which had been checking the caller ID on the phone screen, glanced sharply at Hae-won. Seeing the glint in his eyes, it wasn’t curiosity but wariness. Hae-won, still buried in the bed, was looking up at his face.

“One thirty, one forty-eight, two… Called three times.”

His memory was correct.

“Lee Tae-shin, sounds like a man’s name. Who is it?”

“A high school friend.”

Although Hae-won was a year younger, Tae-shin had told him not to treat him like a seonbae or hyung. Hae-won also didn’t want to call someone only a year older than him seonbae or hyung. He didn’t feel like a seonbae, and hyung was absurd. He was someone Hae-won didn’t even want to call a friend. In truth, Lee Tae-shin was merely an acquaintance who had graduated from the same high school.

Finding further explanation bothersome, Hae-won gave a short answer of ‘high school friend’ and turned his body away from the man. He was only wearing drawers. Hae-won’s gaze naturally drifted toward the man’s lower half.

“Close? Calling three times at this hour. Isn’t that rude in Korea?”

It’s rude in America too. He grew up in the US and lived there, so he seemed unaware that Korean etiquette and that country’s etiquette weren’t so different. He seemed to want confirmation from Hae-won about manners and common sense that applied everywhere.

“That’s why I said to leave it.”

“A stalker or something? This is reportable.”

The man said while checking not just today’s call log but those from other days. The number of people who called Hae-won was limited.

Stepmother and Lee Tae-shin, Senior Choi. When the man came to Korea every few months, new names would be added to Hae-won’s received call list, but usually it didn’t deviate from that number.

Very few people sought out Hae-won. The people Hae-won sought out were also few. He might as well own a phone just to order delivery food. His busy father didn’t contact Hae-won often. His stepmother, who wanted to exert influence over him, contacted him frequently. The stepmother had a habit, like Tae-shin, of spouting things Hae-won didn’t care to listen to. She didn’t care if Hae-won was listening or not, just said what she wanted to say.

Out of Tae-shin’s calls, Hae-won answered maybe one in ten. He tried to answer the stepmother’s calls on the first ring if possible. If he made her wait, she would cut off the money she had to give him.

The man’s face, checking the missed call list, was deliberately growing serious when the bell rang again. He showed Hae-won the screen. It was Tae-shin.

“Persistent friend. Not answering?”

He held out the phone, offering it. It seemed he wanted Hae-won to answer in front of him and let him hear the conversation.

Hae-won didn’t want to answer. Annoyed, he frowned. Soon, the man’s expression turned playful. He answered the phone for Hae-won. He’d clearly intended to do that from the start. Hae-won didn’t particularly stop him.

“Hello. This is Moon Hae-won’s phone. Yes, that’s right. Do you know what time it is now? If you don’t mind me asking, what is your relationship with Mr. Moon Hae-won?”

The man deliberately lowered his voice as much as possible. He wanted to intimidate the other party. Seeing his relaxed expression, it seemed to be going as intended.

Tae-shin was that kind of person. Hae-won could almost hear Tae-shin’s voice, frightened, shrinking back, and apologetic. Hae-won listened indifferently to the meaningless phone conversation.

“I see. He’s right here, shall I pass the phone to him?”

The man, who had discerned in that short moment, through voice alone, that Tae-shin possessed no charm that could attract Hae-won’s favor, instead answered in a friendly voice and mercifully handed the phone to Hae-won.

Hae-won certainly had no interest in this type of person. That the man discerned through a brief conversation that Tae-shin lacked the power to draw people in wasn’t due to the man’s sharpness. Anyone, even an idiot, could tell what kind of person Lee Tae-shin was after a few words.

A spineless tone that tucked its tail between its legs and simple, crude vocabulary choices. In today’s society, charmless people felt insignificant along with poverty.

Having let down his guard with a sense of emptiness, he considerately held the phone to Hae-won’s ear, who wasn’t taking it. Hae-won had no choice but to open his mouth.

“Hello.”

—Hae-won. Who was that who answered the phone just now?

“Someone I know.”

—Are you together? The two of you?

“We have work to do.”

Hae-won held the phone and closed his eyes. The man, who had been sitting leaning against the headboard, also lay down on the bed.

He turned his body to lie facing Hae-won and stroked his side. His touch and warmth approached.

The air in the royal floor suite room was dry. Skin felt parched. His bare skin rubbed against Hae-won’s body. Lips tinged with heat brushed in turn against Hae-won’s shoulder, neckline, and nape. Hae-won didn’t move. His hair swept over Hae-won’s body. Hae-won was working with someone he knew. It was the middle of the night.

—I talked to him for the first time today.

“Ah.”

Lately, Tae-shin’s purpose for calling Hae-won was always ‘that man.’ He was the man Tae-shin had a crush on. And Hae-won didn’t want to know. Who Tae-shin liked, why he came to like him, what coincidence brought them together, whether they had a conversation or not—Hae-won had no interest in such trivial details about that man and didn’t want to hear them.

Hae-won was originally a person who had no interest in others. It was utterly impossible for him to develop an interest in a stranger relayed by someone who wasn’t even a friend. But because Tae-shin persistently relayed information, Hae-won ended up knowing about Tae-shin’s crush even though he didn’t want to.

That he was a prosecutor, that he was tall, that his appearance was splendid, and other blah blah blah.

—You know Han Mi-hee, right? She came to her recital. She came with President Kim Jeong-geun of the Han-gyeong Group. You know President Kim Jeong-geun? I heard he’s close with my father. So I hesitated but then tried to start a conversation. His voice was really nice too. I saw him up close, for real. His eyelashes were really long. You’d know if you saw him too, right? He’s really handsome. I can’t describe it well, but anyway, he’s really handsome.

It was more surprising than the supposedly ‘really handsome’ man that the description of his appearance by someone who had majored in vocal music for years was so pitiful.

The man’s lips traveled down from Hae-won’s shoulder and arm to his chest. Pushing Hae-won, who was lying on his side, onto his back, he circled the areola with his tongue as if licking it. Hae-won covered his eyes with his arm.

—Are you listening?

“…I’m listening.”

Hae-won barely managed to reply. Tae-shin’s lavish praise of that man continued.

Hae-won had never seen him. Listening to Tae-shin’s words alone, that person seemed to possess looks that shouldn’t exist in this world.

Tall stature, broad shoulders, a body honed by exercise, delicate eyelashes, a well-shaped nose, lips described as so attractive you’d want to talk to him even if it meant getting cursed at—listening to such descriptions, it felt so fantastical that sometimes he just let out a faint, incredulous laugh.

Hae-won’s nipple, stimulated, became erect. The man took the hardened nub into his lips and sweetly chewed on it. Hae-won closed his eyes and imagined the fantastical image of Tae-shin’s ‘him.’

“Ah.”

—What’s wrong?

“Nothing, it’s nothing.”

The man, who had been licking Hae-won’s chest, let out a small laugh. His lips moved from Hae-won’s chest down past his navel, lower abdomen, to above the pubic bone. Only then did Hae-won lower his hand and grab the man’s hair. He gripped the hair tightly with force, trying to stop him.

—But anyway, it seems like he might have a girlfriend. He didn’t bring anyone to Mi-hee’s recital, but I heard he turned down someone who offered to introduce him to people. Probably because he’s seeing someone, right? Or maybe he’s just not interested in dating? Being a prosecutor is a busy job.

“If there’s no possibility, just give up.”

He didn’t want to listen to Tae-shin’s whiny chatter.

Hae-won always spoke decisively to Tae-shin. Not knowing it was because Hae-won found him bothersome, Tae-shin trusted Hae-won even more, saying he was the only one around who gave him straightforward advice. Every time that happened, Hae-won fiercely regretted letting Tae-shin see that side of him in high school. It was his own fault for being careless. Before he knew it, Hae-won had become Tae-shin’s closest friend, sharing the same sexual identity.

It had already been ten years. Unlike Tae-shin, Hae-won didn’t consider him his closest friend. Tae-shin’s persistent nature of calling until Hae-won answered was also exerted toward that man.

He cautiously approached the man he fell for at first sight after meeting by chance in an empty seat, and within a month, Tae-shin had become someone who had exchanged introductions and even a handshake with the man, whether the man remembered him or not. He seemed to consider that progress in his own way.

Hae-won had said you should never give romantic advice even to opposite-sex friends. Giving same-sex romantic advice to a same-sex friend was even more out of the question.

The man, who had been licking upward from the groin area, pulled down Hae-won’s underwear. Hae-won, still holding the phone, lowered his head and looked at him. His eyes met the man’s, gleaming with red desire.

—Hae-won, are you listening to me? What do you think?

“I’m not thinking anything.”

—What would you do if it were you?

“If it were me, I’d give up. Liking a straight guy is useless anyway. You’ll just get hurt.”

He meant it. This time, he gave Tae-shin sincere advice, but Tae-shin ignored it. It was the attribute of all people with unrequited love.

He lightly took Hae-won’s penis into his mouth and sucked. Hae-won threw his head back and lay down as if burying himself in the bed. The man relentlessly pushed between his legs. Hae-won covered his mouth, worried Tae-shin might hear.

Tae-shin was praising that man. Hae-won doubted if he was a man worthy of such praise. Tae-shin’s ‘he’ was undoubtedly a playboy who used his slightly better-than-average looks and slightly superior status to swap out women in less than a month. Expecting pure love from those who trade on their looks was the stupidest thing.

Hae-won’s breathing grew rough.

“I was sleeping and you woke me up. Later…, let’s talk later.”

—Ah, really? Sorry. I woke you up. I’ll call you later. You have to answer my call, okay?

“Okay. Hang up, let’s hang up.”

Hae-won ended the call without even hearing Tae-shin’s reply. He placed the phone on the bedside as if tossing it and tightly gripped the man’s hair with both hands.

“It hurts, ah…!”

The man’s tongue strongly suctioned Hae-won’s tender flesh. As he constricted his throat, the sensation of impending ejaculation surged. Hae-won’s hips buckled. He had already ejaculated twice with him in bed today, and even though there shouldn’t be anything left, his lower body was too easily swallowed by hot excitement.

Hae-won lifted his lower half into the air and came in the man’s mouth. As he ejaculated, his lips trembled. The man, who had taken it in his mouth, pulled out a tissue and spat the fluid onto it.

The corners of his mouth were smiling. Hae-won, with tears welling in his eyes, stared at him resentfully.

The man, who had spread Hae-won’s legs and crept up, climbed on top of Hae-won’s body. His fully erect member prodded below. Hae-won wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders. Burying his face in the man’s neck, he rocked as the man pushed in. The bedsprings creaked from the good-quality mattress.

“Let go of my hand. Recording starts the day after tomorrow.”

“I’m not doing it because the fee isn’t right. Someone got a hefty contract fee plus housing.”

“You raise your own value.”

Wearing sunglasses like a mask, hiding his expression, he laughed and replied to Hae-won’s indifferent words. He often smiled looking at Hae-won. It meant he liked Hae-won.

The hotel restaurant on Friday morning was quiet. They were the only ones having brunch; the rest had coffee or tea on their tables, balancing with the background music, talking quietly.

Hae-won and the man sat at a spot where the morning sunlight streamed transparently through the hotel’s front window. It was a spot everyone avoided because of the sunlight, so the surroundings were sparse.

He had a set amount of daily sun exposure. Even with sunglasses on, he still had about an hour’s worth of sun exposure left to get.

Hae-won squinted his eyes in the direct sunlight and sipped his coffee. Hae-won also basked in the sun with him. Because if you didn’t expose your body to sunlight enough to tan in summer, you’d suffer from colds in winter. Suddenly, he wanted to go to Bangkok.

“Your eyelashes are transparent brown too. Did you know?”

He reached out, touched Hae-won’s cheek, and with his thumb, brushed his eyelashes. Tae-shin had praised that man’s eyelashes for being incredibly long, going on about them for a long time last night. Hae-won had never seen that man. Listening to Tae-shin’s words alone, he was the most perfect, most outstanding man in the world. It was doubtful that such a perfect man existed in this world. As is often the case with those who have crushes, something must be clouding his vision.

His hand left Hae-won’s face, leaving behind a pathetic trace of dust. He was conscious of the surrounding gazes. He pushed up the sunglasses that had slid down his nose bridge.

“So you’re really not going to do it?”

“What are you going to give me?”

“Everything you ask for.”

“That’s an excessive condition for someone who gets a pittance.”

Hae-won had nothing he wanted. It had been like that since he was young. He had nothing he wanted to have, nothing he wanted to be. His father, who found that pathetic, said if he had no interest in studying, he should at least be good at one thing, and poured money into Hae-won’s special skills education. His father thought if Hae-won took after his birth mother, he would have talent in the arts. He made Hae-won try everything indiscriminately: piano, painting, horseback riding, violin.

Among them, the one he did the longest was violin. When he was young, he even won prizes at competitions he entered without much thought. He entered arts middle school and arts high school with violin, and entered university with violin.

While attending music college, he even acquired a Guadanini that professors coveted. The curves of the nearly 300-year-old European spruce were graceful, and its tone was deep and delicate.

With the best instrument, he spent six years graduating from university, joined the Han-gyeong Foundation’s top orchestra in Asia, and left after less than a few months.

If it was a place he could endure and graduate from, Hae-won would have somehow endured and graduated from the orchestra too. But that place wasn’t for graduating. Upon leaving the symphony orchestra, Hae-won told his father he was switching to being a freelancer.

His father was a layman when it came to music, and just as he had taken the word of a raw college student attending music school who said that nine-year-old Hae-won had the talent of perfect pitch at face value, he similarly accepted the shift to freelancing as something akin to perfect pitch. He considered freelancing to be even better than Han-gyeong Symphony.

Anyway, Hae-won was a violinist. He was a performer with enough recognition that a capable composer would specifically insert a violin solo piece and designate him for it.

Apart from that work, he had almost no jobs, but he was a freelancer who could get by well enough without giving private lessons. Because his father was wealthy.

The summer sunlight was transparent and warm. Thanks to the air conditioning cranked up high in the hotel, the indoor temperature was low enough to require a cardigan. The sunlight covered Hae-won’s body like a warm blanket. The momentary goosebumps and chill subsided.

The man reached out and picked up a crisply fried piece of bacon. A capable composer and producer, he was a U.S. citizen and, true to being an American, his tastes in both food and sex were Western-style. Only his name, ‘Kim Jae-min,’ was distinctly Korean.

Hae-won had participated in several classical albums he produced. Among them were what you might call big hits. His work was mainly done at his home in the U.S., while producing and recording were done in a Seoul studio. When he came to Korea, he would stay for long periods—months, weeks—or short periods—a few days—and then leave.

“Being with you is… how should I put it… time flows differently.”

Kim Jae-min said it as if letting the words slip out. Hae-won fixed his gaze out the window and showed little reaction to his words. It was probably meant as a compliment in its own way, but Hae-won felt neither pleased nor grateful.

Hae-won was fundamentally a lazy and indolent person. He never got flustered and didn’t know anxiety. So, it was natural that someone who lived a busy life like him would feel the passage of time differently when with someone like Hae-won. Kim Jae-min took this positively. He seemed to think of coming to Seoul for work as a vacation trip to the Mediterranean.

He would invariably call after getting off at the airport, and Hae-won never refused. After the bacon, he picked up a piece of bread. Breadcrumbs fell onto his shirt.

“Practice it. I won’t go easy during the recording.”

“Like during sex?”

At Hae-won’s words, he let out a deflated laugh. Hae-won lazily leaned his body against the back of the sofa.

“Shall we give it a try?”

He muttered as if talking to himself, glanced at Hae-won, and continued.

“In a studio with no one around.”

“Studios these days all have CCTV.”

“Ah, right.”

He sighed, roughly scratching the back of his head as if genuinely disappointed.

Hae-won felt comfortable with him. He liked that he didn’t overdo jokes, his neat clothing style, his Western food preferences, and his preference for Western-style sex. Among these, the best thing was that he would return to the U.S. after a certain period.

He clearly recognized his own situation and possessed the rationality to control his impulses. He didn’t force any burdensome emotions on Hae-won. He didn’t try to bind Hae-won either.

When he left, they were perfectly separate entities. Even while together, they didn’t plan a future. Perhaps it was comfortable precisely because it was an easy relationship to turn away from. Sticky attachments weren’t good for either of them.

“You’ve at least sight-read it, right?”

“Haven’t even opened the sheet music yet.”

He burst out laughing. For a composer, that should be an unacceptable statement. Kim Jae-min laughed often. It meant he liked Hae-won. There were moments when the frequency of his smiles somehow felt too casual.

∞ ∞ ∞

Hae-won played the violin for four to five hours a day. Perhaps because he had done nothing but this for twenty years, he told Kim Jae-min he was incredibly lazy and found it bothersome, but he actually rarely skipped practice.

It wasn’t that he wanted to do it; it had just become a habit. Pressing the strings had become as routine for Hae-won as washing his face and brushing his teeth.

Calluses had formed on his fingertips, and his nails were always trimmed short. Sometimes he disliked this ingrained state. As he straightened the slightly tilted bridge, the sharp metallic sound of the four strings struck his ears and rose tautly.

Using the entire bow, he focused on each note. With every movement of the bow, the heavily applied rosin fell like dust. Closing his eyes, he turned the peg to tune the string to A. He had tuned it yesterday too, but after a day, the strings loosened and dropped about a semitone.

After tuning, with his eyes still closed, he slowly played from the first movement of Bach’s Partita No. 2 to the Sarabande.

Kim Jae-min recommended modern music, but Hae-won preferred classical. He liked Bach’s Partita No. 2, and especially the unaccompanied sonata Chaconne, which he would play every time he practiced.

Hae-won didn’t have all the partitas memorized for performance, but he could play No. 2 entirely without sheet music. He also liked Vitali’s Chaconne, but he played Bach’s Chaconne more often.

The heavy Adagio in D minor was like a funeral march seeing someone off, yet also solemn like the graceful smile of a strong man.

Hae-won moved the bow frantically. His unusually long fingers for an average person pressed hard as they moved across the fingerboard. Pressing the bow down as if the strings might break, when he opened his eyes, time had already flown by.

The professor who taught him said he always got nervous whenever he heard Hae-won’s partita. That he felt anxious, thinking the strings might snap from Hae-won pressing down so hard. When Hae-won played the partita, a dull pain often remained not only in his entire arm but also in his wrist.

The soundproofed officetel echoed only the sounds he made emptily. Even though it was located by a main road, not even car horns could be heard. After finishing playing, Hae-won had a habit of staring blankly at the desolate officetel window for a long time. As if someone were there, in that place reflecting only the gray city.

He opened the sheet music composed by Kim Jae-min on the music stand. It was a violin solo piece that had been used as a hit drama OST and was now being remade, with a few additional tracks alongside the main theme, for official album release.

Despite the record company’s recommendation of renowned soloists, thankfully, Kim Jae-min had designated Hae-won, an obscure violinist who had been ousted from Han-gyeong Symphony. Hae-won also knew it wasn’t a reward for sex. It took time to persuade the producers, but Kim Jae-min believed that Hae-won’s rough yet sharp and delicate phrasing, evident in his skilled bow use near the bridge, suited this piece.

The sheet music wasn’t particularly difficult. The sight-reading was almost flawless, completed in one go. Everything about Kim Jae-min was to Hae-won’s taste, except his musicality. It was transient, stimulating, and not classical. This was a matter of sincerity.

After practicing a couple more times and finding no rising interest, he put the violin away in its case.

Hae-won spent the day lazily. After dragging himself out of bed past nine in the morning, showering, toasting a slice of bread, chewing and swallowing it, he started violin practice even before his hair was fully dry. He played the violin almost every day, for as short as two hours or as long as four to five hours.

During practice, he mainly played pieces he had memorized or been taught. He learned new pieces through his professor’s lessons, wary of forming preconceptions. Occasionally, if he happened to listen to performances by famous soloists, he would search for and play the pieces they performed, but generally, his repertoire didn’t change.

After finishing practice, he felt hungry. Hae-won didn’t cook. Side dishes or soup could be bought from side dish shops, and he knew how to cook rice too. If you washed the rice and put it in the rice cooker, these days electric rice cookers kindly notified you when the rice was done and ready to eat.

After filling his stomach, he slouched out, pulling a ball cap low, and headed out to the streets. He would walk aimlessly among busy pedestrians, each with their own purpose, go into bookstores to look at books, or sit in cafes to kill time.

Around the time normal office workers finished work and returned home, he would come back, turn on the TV. He would just leave it on for the sound without watching. The quiet place, where not even the noise from the main road could be heard due to soundproofing, was hard to bear.

His father knew about Hae-won’s lifestyle but never pointed it out. He believed artists were different from others. He was the type who thought that if one were to pursue art, it was normal to be exceptional.

His biological mother was also very different from others. His birth mother was more sensitive than him. A woman who didn’t know how to compromise with the dirty world.

It was a pattern of living while chewing on solitude, but he wasn’t particularly lonely. Once you got used to this kind of boredom, it was nothing special, and the irregular things that broke this daily routine sometimes felt bothersome and annoying. Among these, what annoyed Hae-won the most was Tae-shin’s calls. Like now.

He left the continuously ringing phone alone. However, that annoyance wasn’t enough to make him want to change his phone number and cut off contact with him. The problem was that his laziness had reached an extreme where even changing his number was considered a bothersome procedure. Cutting off contact was also something only diligent people could do.

If he didn’t answer the phone, text messages would pile up neatly. Hae-won usually grasped most of the message he wanted to convey by looking at the last text. Lately, he would batch delete them without even reading, including spam messages about loans or credit services and the messages he sent. It was obvious it would be about that man he had a crush on, and he didn’t want to see his unrequited love poured out via text when calls weren’t enough.

The object of Tae-shin’s unrequited love changed every few years, but it had never been as intense and prolonged as now. How did he end up listening to love advice about a same-sex crush from a high school seonbae he wasn’t even that close to? That was always the thought when checking the accumulating texts and missed calls.

Hae-won and Tae-shin attended the same arts high school. Tae-shin studied sculpture. Hae-won majored in violin. With different fields, they couldn’t have become close. For such a Tae-shin, being caught in an empty classroom after everyone had left school was a tragedy.

Only the piano instructor, who assisted students with their practicals, and Hae-won remained in the piano practice room. The piano major’s fingers were as long as his own. His hands busily caressed the nape of Hae-won’s neck and earlobes. His lips overlapped Hae-won’s, colliding fiercely. The piano instructor and Hae-won rubbed lips passionately as if about to throw off their clothes any moment, exchanging saliva and sucking on each other.

Like all timid people, Tae-shin also didn’t rashly disclose what he had witnessed through the small glass window. Back then, like now, Hae-won, who didn’t have many friends, was sitting alone in the empty classroom after all the kids had left. He looked back curiously at Tae-shin, who had come to find him despite not knowing him well.

Tae-shin called Hae-won out to the school backyard. And there, without any additional explanation, the first thing he said was:

“I thought I was the only one like that. I thought it was weird.”

“……”

Hae-won had no connection with him. He didn’t even know his name, his face, or that a student named Lee Tae-shin existed at this school until that moment. But upon hearing his first words, Hae-won realized he had been caught with the instructor in the practice room.

As Hae-won stared silently, Tae-shin flashed a featureless smile like those of featureless people and added.

“I’m a year above, but let’s just be friends. You can speak casually to me too.”

“……”

“There’s someone I like. Should I tell them? Shouldn’t I? What do you do in such situations?”

Hae-won silently looked at him, and he misunderstood it not as disregard but as listening to his words. That misunderstanding piled up like a mountain, and over ten years had flown by.

He and Hae-won had now become close enough to be called friends. Having graduated from the same high school and after ten years, contacting each other three or four times a week and knowing each other’s livelihoods—such a relationship could be called close friends.

While having these various thoughts, the phone’s persistent ringing stopped.

One or two out of ten times. That was the frequency with which Hae-won answered his calls. That one or two out of ten times was a response out of irritation at the boringly ringing bell, wanting to tell him to stop calling now, not to welcome him.

Knowing Hae-won disliked it, knowing he found it bothersome, Tae-shin still persistently called. Because he couldn’t tell anyone.

He didn’t have friends with the same orientation, and like Hae-won, he didn’t have many friends in general. Whenever faced with his shallow interior, Hae-won, who couldn’t understand revealing oneself to others, often felt disgust towards him, who was the polar opposite of his own personality.

The phone ringing stopped. As the unpleasantly stimulating sound disappeared, he somehow felt a bit sorry. Staring blankly at the disconnected phone, he traced the name of the missed caller imprinted on the screen.

“……”

He also wondered how desperate one must be to do this to someone like him, whom you couldn’t really call that close. But he didn’t call him back out of momentarily felt pity.

Anyway, Hae-won couldn’t be of any help in his life. Life, especially lives like theirs, was something no one could help. One had to stitch it up and go on alone.

Hae-won wasn’t particularly lonely. When he felt loneliness, he headed to a familiar bar. There were many men there who, like him, craved one-time encounters. There was no one he met consistently, but after sorting out his lust there once, he wouldn’t feel loneliness or the sense of being alone for a while.

Having lived mostly alone since childhood, he was now too accustomed to being alone, to a fault. If he had no one to talk to, Hae-won sometimes wouldn’t open his mouth for over a week. When Kim Jae-min returned to the U.S., such days would probably continue.

∞ ∞ ∞

Hae-won had no interest in his father’s business. He didn’t even know exactly what he did. His father was a military supplier. A quite successful businessman who purchased weapons from the U.S. and supplied them to East Asia, including Korea.

Was there anything in this world as illogical and irrational as war? After learning his father was a military supplier, Hae-won considered his father’s profession dishonorable. Ashamed, whenever someone asked what his father did, Hae-won would answer he was an ordinary office worker. Hae-won pressed the bell of the main house and hitched up the violin case slung over his shoulder.

―Oh my, Student Hae-won, it’s been a long time.

“Yes, hello.”

He visited the main house about once a month. His stepmother didn’t deposit his living expenses into his account but always made him receive them directly. Although it was money his father earned dishonorably, receiving that money from his father, who had a duty of support, was natural as a child, but whenever he received the envelope from his stepmother, Hae-won could understand how beggars begging at doors must feel.

The gate opened. Hae-won stepped inside. Welcoming summer, the garden was lush with rising moisture. His stepmother, with nothing particular to do, had gardening as a hobby. She bought pine trees worth hundreds of millions without a second thought and planted them in the yard. A pine tree that would have been more impressive perched on a sheer cliff stood crookedly blocking the entrance path. Passing through the tree shade spreading a strong pine scent, he followed the stone wall. Opening the door of the modernly renovated house, cool and cold air raised goosebumps on his bare arms.

“Exactly a month. Have you been well?”

“Yes, how have you been, ma’am?”

“Same every day, what else.”

The housekeeper who opened the front door greeted him. She had been working for this house since high school, so even though it had been quite a while since Hae-won graduated, she still called him ‘student.’

She had been in this house longer than the stepmother. She was the fixture. She skillfully catered to the stepmother who had rolled in like a loose stone, having removed the embedded one.

She often grumbled to Hae-won, probably because he was the only one in this house corner who would listen. She carefully took the violin case hanging from Hae-won’s shoulder and leaned it against the corner wall where she always placed it.

The stepmother was arranging flowers, having spread fresh flowers on the reception table.

“If I didn’t give you money, you’re the kind of kid who wouldn’t visit even once a month.”

Without greetings like ‘nice to see you’ or ‘it’s been a while,’ she glanced at Hae-won and reproached him. Her gaze, half-looking, half-not, returned to the flowers with trimmed stems. The stepmother had a knack for flower arranging.

Hae-won sat on the sofa. The leather sofa sank deeply under Hae-won’s weight. The housekeeper brought a drink. His throat parched, Hae-won drank half the iced tea in one go. Leaning deeply back into the sofa, tilting his head back, he took a big breath.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?”

“You just saw with your own eyes that all my limbs and body are perfectly fine.”

“Just look at how you talk.”

“Hello.”

“No hello for you.”

“Where’s Father?”

Stepmother wasn’t scolding me. She was using the tone of a bored wife with nothing to do, complaining to her husband.

“He’s on a business trip to the States.”

“……”

Father practically lived in America for half of every month. Hae-won and Stepmother knew it intuitively but never voiced it openly. It was clear Father had set up another household there. The duration and frequency of his trips kept increasing, and whenever he returned, he’d be unnaturally nice to Stepmother.

When Stepmother remarried Father, she was a woman as pretty as a flower. Though only the vitality had faded slightly from her flower-like appearance, she had grown so accustomed to the role of a wife that she felt distinctly different from when I first met her.

A silence flowed between them, each knowing full well what the other was thinking but saying nothing. Hae-won drained the remaining iced tea and looked up. He saw Hae-jeong walking down the stairs to this floor.

Hae-jeong, who had scurried over, squeezed her small body next to Stepmother seated on the main sofa, flashing curious eyes as she looked at Hae-won.

Hae-won now made eye contact with the six-year-old child.

“Hi.”

“You should always greet Hae-jeong first.”

“Adults should greet six-year-olds first.”

Hae-won pretended not to understand her underlying complaint. Hae-jeong burrowed into Stepmother’s side without responding to his greeting.

He had lived alone even before Hae-jeong was born. Once a month, he’d drop by, and that was the extent of their interaction—just a glimpse of each other’s faces. Though a half-sibling, they were practically strangers who could pass each other on the street without recognition. It was the same for Hae-jeong; whenever she saw Hae-won, she’d cautiously flash curious eyes as if looking at a stranger.

“I have a recording session today. I have to go.”

“I told the housekeeper to prepare lunch. At least eat before you go.”

“I have plans.”

“Don’t lie.”

She snipped the stems of fresh flowers carelessly with scissors. As Hae-jeong clung tightly to her side, she shook her arm irritably once. Hae-jeong swiftly hid behind her back.

“Why is this child getting so spoiled lately? Can’t you sit up straight?”

“Give me the money. I’m leaving.”

At Hae-won’s urging, Stepmother glared at him with claw eyes.

“Hae-jeong, go to Mommy’s bedroom and bring the bag on the dressing table. Your brother has to go.”

Hae-jeong was crouching, only her bottom visible. When Stepmother’s hand slapped her bottom—pang—the child hesitated, then got up and slipped into the door on the left. The child returned with a handbag. Even after placing the bag beside her, Stepmother remained absorbed in trimming the flowers.

“Ma’am, lunch is ready.”

As the housekeeper approached and spoke, her eyes turned to Hae-won. See, I was right, her reproachful gaze said.

“Hae-won, won’t you eat before you go?”

“No. I have plans. I’ll eat next time I come.”

“I went to a lot of trouble preparing because you said you’d eat after such a long time. Don’t be like that, at least have a bite.”

“I have lunch plans. I’m sorry.”

After repeatedly refusing the offer, Stepmother opened the handbag Hae-jeong brought, took out a thick envelope, and tossed it onto the table. Hae-won picked up the envelope and put it in his pocket. He felt like a loan shark collecting a debt. Without hesitation, Hae-won stood up from his seat.

“I’m going.”

“Like father, like son. What’s the difference between you and your dad?”

“I don’t take after my father. Don’t speak ill of him. Hae-jeong, I’m leaving.”

Hae-jeong, who had been peeking at Hae-won from behind Stepmother’s back, absentmindedly waved at his farewell, then startled by her own action, quickly lowered her hand.

Hae-won grabbed his violin case and stepped out the entrance door. They wouldn’t see each other for another month now. His departing footsteps felt light.

As he passed through the garden toward the gate, he heard hurried footsteps and turned around. Stepmother rushed toward him, fluttering silk that was indistinguishable between a dress and a nightgown. Stopping her quick steps right in front of Hae-won, she breathed heavily, her face flushed.

“I’m getting a divorce.”

“……What?”

“I said I’m getting a divorce.”

Hae-won thought for a moment before asking.

“Why?”

“Don’t you know what your father’s doing? Do I have to mention that filthy act myself to feel better?”

“You married him that way too.”

“……What?”

“You set up a household with Father while my mother was still alive and came here. Why bring it up now?”

“You, you……, you!”

Hae-won grabbed the finger she pointed accusingly at him in the air and flicked it away as if shooing a fly.

“Who do you think you’re pointing at? I’m late for my appointment. I’m leaving.”

Leaving the woman behind, her pale face flushed red as if about to burst, Hae-won hurried across the garden. He exited the gate and turned the corner. An empty taxi was coming down the hill. As Hae-won raised his hand, the taxi swiftly stopped in front of him.

At the studio, the record company President and Kim Jae-min had arrived first. Checking his watch, he was about ten minutes late. The record company President, sprawled on the monitor room sofa, glanced at Hae-won and turned his gaze away, seemingly displeased, without even a greeting. Kim Jae-min sighed softly toward the President and approached Hae-won.

“You’re late. Did you eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Meaning you didn’t eat? Want me to order something?”

“I’m not in the mood, so let’s just record.”

“The engineer stepped out to take a call. We’ll start soon. Oh, this is President Yoon. Have you met before? First time?”

“Hello.”

Hae-won gave a slight nod. The record company President’s expression as he looked at him was indifferent. For a President worried about promotion, it was only natural to feel uneasy about an unknown player taking the main role over established soloists.

Seeing this, Kim Jae-min grumbled with a displeased face.

“I told you I vouch for his skills. Why embarrass him by not even acknowledging his greeting in front of others?”

“No one else has properly heard him play except Director Kim.”

“If the composer likes it, that’s all that matters. Did you practice?”

“A couple of times.”

Hae-won replied to Kim Jae-min’s question. At that answer, the record company President’s eyes twisted with displeasure. Kim Jae-min’s hand lightly gripped Hae-won’s shoulder. It was a grip that conveyed an inexplicable pride Hae-won couldn’t understand. Hae-won was neither his creation nor anything he had made. He pushed away Kim Jae-min’s hand resting on his shoulder without resistance.

“In the control room?”

“We cleared the piano booth. We’ll mic the amp directly.”

“I’ll stand.”

“Whatever’s comfortable.”

Hae-won took his violin case and entered the booth. The lighting was dimly set. Hae-won moved the chair aside. He positioned himself in the middle and adjusted the microphone placement. Taking the violin from the case, he attached the shoulder rest and brought it under his chin. With the instrument nestled between his shoulder and chin, he tightened the bow. Rosin dust fell like powder onto the well-rosined bow hair for chamber music. He drew the bow across each string in a legato stroke. While he tuned the violin, the recording engineer arrived.

The engineer sat in front of the mixing console in the control room and gave Hae-won a slight nod. Kim Jae-min stood with his arms crossed, looking inside. His gaze was the same as when he said he wanted to tangle with him in the booth.

Hae-won finished tuning and put on the headphones. He lightly drew the bow across the strings. A clear sound flowed into his ears. Pressing the mic’s on-switch, the engineer’s voiceover came through.

“We’ll record the sound in stereo for a clean recording. We can adjust the tone or add reverb later after listening back.”

The engineer pressed the mic off-switch. It felt muffled, as if someone had plugged his ears, and no sound came through.

Hae-won stood comfortably, focusing on the background music playing through the headphones. He had no intention of reassuring the record company President, nor any desire to impress him. He wasn’t in the mood to surprise anyone either. He’d been paid, so he was just fulfilling the contract.

He drew the bow across the strings so hard it felt like they might snap. As the pitch rose, the strings seemed to split as if a voice were tearing apart. Usually, Hae-won wasn’t the type to show emotions on his face—people often asked if he was in a bad mood or angry—but when playing, it was different. His emotions would rise so intensely that he’d feel embarrassed watching recordings of his performances, his expression ripening like fruit about to burst.

It would be the same now. But once he started playing, he couldn’t control it. He’d be consumed by the melody, as if sucked into another world.

After the heavy prelude, he moved into the faster-paced theme, followed by a rising climax that felt like breath catching in his throat. He couldn’t express this feeling twice in the same way. Even if a note jumped out in the middle, there was no time to think about it as he transitioned into the chorus, releasing the held breath. Then another climax and a faintly drawn postlude where everything seemed to settle calmly before he lifted the bow from the strings.

Hae-won returned to his usual expressionless face and turned his gaze to Kim Jae-min and the record company President standing outside the booth.

Kim Jae-min stood with his arms crossed, his intense gaze piercing. The record company President, frowning faintly as if having a nightmare, nodded as soon as he made eye contact with Hae-won. As the engineer said something, the three exchanged busy opinions, unable to hide their somewhat excited expressions. It could be a suggestion to record again or approval that this was enough. To see if his prediction was correct, the engineer’s voice came through the headphones.

“Can you do one more take? The first one had a good feel, but another might yield something even better.”

“Fine.”

At his indifferent reply, they exchanged glances. It was decided to record once more.

“You said you didn’t practice, but you have a talent for surprising people, huh? Give me goosebumps again. Make it thrilling. Like Itzhak Perlman.”

Whether the direct gaze was stimulating, his breath quickened slightly. Hae-won nestled the violin between his shoulder and chin and felt for the position on the fingerboard.

As a child, pressing the strings was painful. Before calluses formed, his fingertips would swell red after playing. Blisters formed, skin peeled, and the calluses hardened until he forgot the pain of pressing steel strings. Now, Hae-won and the three-hundred-year-old instrument, accumulated with skill, were one.

“Starting again.”

As soon as the engineer’s voice faded, the pre-recorded prelude flowed out. Hae-won closed his eyes and took a long breath. This time too, he drew the bow across the strings as if they might snap.

∞ ∞ ∞

Thud—his back hit the soundproof wall hard. Kim Jae-min’s solid thigh parted his knees in one motion. He rubbed his crotch roughly against Hae-won’s center. He sucked on his lips so hard blood rushed to them. Hae-won was being bitten by him. He twisted away the man’s grip on his shoulder.

“Haah, haah, are you crazy? There are people in the next room.”

“I know.”

He answered shortly and covered Hae-won’s lips again, cutting off his breath. The lips licking the mucous membrane pulled away and then frantically moved between Hae-won’s earlobe and neck. The rubbing hot skin was damp with moisture. Hae-won tilted his head back toward the ceiling. Kim Jae-min seemed likely to leave marks on his neck. His excited breath and gestures felt pitiful. He was racing alone toward a limit, panting as if about to burst. His excitement was childlike. Hae-won shook his head.

“I’ll strip you completely and make you perform in front of me.”

“Wait……, ngh.”

Kim Jae-min’s tongue entered Hae-won’s mouth, tangling his words. It smelled of cigarettes. Hae-won gave up trying to stop him and lowered his hand. Kim Jae-min’s hand roughly unfastened Hae-won’s pants buckle. Beyond the soundproof wall—this thin wall like a makeshift partition—were the people he’d been working with.

Their noise faintly reached them. His hand roughly groped below. He unzipped Hae-won’s pants and pulled out his erect, almost bursting genitals, rubbing them together. Hae-won looked at Kim Jae-min’s flushed face, then averted his gaze. He pressed his body close to let him finish. Without even touching him with his hand, Kim Jae-min, after thrusting a few times, embarrassingly quickly spilled hot fluid. The sensation of it trickling down his lower abdomen felt slick.

“Hey, Director Kim! What are you doing? Coffee’s here.”

“Almost done. Be right there.”

He instantly suppressed his hurried breath and produced a composed voice. Then, exhaling roughly, he looked at Hae-won. His darkened gaze pierced deep, staring into his pupils. Hae-won gazed back at him blankly.

“I thought I’d come just watching you earlier.”

“I’m already considered eccentric; now I’ll be treated as a madman.”

He let out a dry, drained laugh and rested his damp, sweaty forehead on Hae-won’s shoulder. His spent genitals touched bare skin.

“I actually thought you avoided live performances because you lacked skill.”

“I don’t like live performances.”

“Not only do you get me hard, but you make me come too. Where have you been hiding all this time?”

His talking against his neck made it tickle. Hae-won shrugged his shoulders, avoiding his lips that brushed hotly against him.

“Because of people like you, Director, who listen with their bodies instead of their ears when I play. I hate it when people don’t listen to my performance and chew on something else.”

“You’re not joking.”

He let out a long sigh and pulled away. Wiping the traces roughly with tissue, he pulled up his pants. He gestured that he’d go out first and turned away. After he left, Hae-won stood alone for quite a while before heading to the recording studio.

After three performances, the okay sign was given. Though it was work that had to be finished today anyway, it ended faster than expected.

Kim Jae-min gave Hae-won a hotel card key. With a few more recordings left, he subtly hinted for Hae-won to go to the hotel first. Hae-won’s schedule, as far as Kim Jae-min knew, was empty. Hae-won was a freelancer who gave the impression of being excessively idle, living off others.

Hae-won took a taxi in front of the recording studio and went straight to the hotel.

He checked Kim Jae-min’s text about the work being further delayed without any feeling, took a relaxing bath, and even got a massage in the room. He ordered room service close to a full dinner. Charging everything to Kim Jae-min, Hae-won just scribbled a signature on the bill.

With the TV on, browsing paid channels, he lightly dressed and headed to the lounge. The spacious lounge, decorated partly as a bar and partly as a café, was quite crowded. Passing a small dispute at the entrance between a dissatisfied waiting guest and staff—only those with reservations could enter if not hotel guests—he took a seat near the window.

After ordering a cocktail, Hae-won turned his gaze to the night view outside the window. A beautiful nightscape shimmered, almost worth paying to see. Though his father was wealthy, for someone who received a monthly allowance from Stepmother, it was a somewhat extravagant sight.

If you looked deeply, it would likely be messy, complicated, and sometimes even shabby.

The lingering afterglow of the performance, which hadn’t fully dissipated even during the massage, now melted away with the night view and cocktail.

As Hae-won sat killing time, someone sat at the empty table next to him. A man in golf wear and a woman, unlike him, in a body-hugging dress, clearly having put much effort into her appearance, sat at the adjacent table quite close to Hae-won. With nothing particular to do and having grown accustomed to the night view’s impact, Hae-won’s gaze had shifted to his surroundings.

“Woo-jin, what would you like? Whiskey?”

The waiter politely handed them the menu. The woman asked the man without even looking at it. The man also declined the menu and ordered in a quick, low tone.

“No alcohol. Give me an iced Americano with an extra shot.”

“Then I’ll have a fresh kiwi fruit juice.”

“Understood.”

Though the man only showed the back of his head from Hae-won’s angle, looking at the woman alone, they seemed like a handsome couple. The woman’s smooth calves, crossed elegantly, gleamed with a polished shine. Her toenails sparkled with meticulously done pedicure.

I had rarely found any part of a woman’s body particularly sexy, but the short skirt, the long, shiny legs from shaving, the slender ankles wrapped in strap sandals, and the Satan-red pedicure at the toes looked quite sensual.

As I absentmindedly stared, the woman noticed my gaze and scanned my face with displeasure before slightly twisting and changing the direction of her seated position. Being treated like a pervert out of nowhere, I must have been staring too blatantly. Hae-won awkwardly averted his eyes elsewhere.

Once again, he entered a state of forgetfulness

selflessness

, letting the night view and the lounge’s performance music wash over him as he leisurely waited for Kim Jae-min to return. This time, Hae-won felt a gaze and turned his head, meeting the woman’s eyes. The woman who met his eyes embarrassedly turned her head toward the man. It was a look of curiosity or interest. Sorry, but Hae-won was an animal in the same predicament as her. What she wanted, Hae-won couldn’t give.

He wasn’t trying to listen, but their conversation naturally reached his ears. The woman mainly asked questions, and whether the man was indifferent by nature or not, he responded languidly the whole time.

Ah, if he were that woman, his pride might have been hurt enough to pour the drink he was having into the man’s face and storm off. Of course, lacking such passion, he would probably have just gotten up and left without a word. Hae-won listened to their conversation while having trivial thoughts.

“They say the grass there isn’t great and it’s not well-maintained. Isn’t there a problem with your driver? Try changing it.”

“Sit further away.”

He spoke to the persistently clinging woman in a warning tone. It was almost an insult. She moved back and sat down, acting unnaturally as if asserting that she was a mature woman who matched him.

“Well, golf isn’t your taste anyway, Woo-jin-ssi.”

Due to the man’s uncooperativeness, the conversation frequently broke off. When the conversation stopped, the woman sipped her juice. The man was constantly checking something on his phone. He seemed like a very busy person.

Quite some time passed. Hae-won left the lounge, carelessly scribbled a signature on the bill offered by the staff, and stood in front of the elevator.

Kim Jae-min might have returned. If so, he would have seen Hae-won’s phone ringing alone on the table. Knowing that Hae-won was quietly holed up in the hotel he suggested without running off, he might be looking for him around now. The thought that Kim Jae-min might be searching for him made Hae-won reluctant to return to the room.

Maybe go for a swim. Or work out.

Hae-won wasn’t particularly fond of moving his body actively. However, to maintain his performance quality, basic stamina was necessary, so he forced himself to exercise. Before he could even decide whether to go straight up to the room, the elevator arrived.

There was no one inside. Hae-won pressed the floor button. The door, about to close, opened again. It was the couple from the table next to him. The woman, arm in arm with the man, was about to board the elevator when she spotted Hae-won and hesitated. Hae-won stepped aside a little to make space for them to board.

As he turned his gaze, the man’s eyes met Hae-won’s. While sitting with his back turned, Hae-won had imagined just a wealthy young businessman, but the person was quite different from the expected image.

He wasn’t simply a handsome type. He had distinct facial features and an intense gaze so sharp a needle couldn’t pierce it. His intellectual side was overwhelming. It felt like facing an insurmountable black wall rather than a person. It was the first time Hae-won had felt something from someone’s appearance itself. It was fortunate he was wearing golf attire; if it were a proper suit, Hae-won would have been crushed by that wildness.

“What floor did you say?”

“40th floor.”

The man answered the woman’s question and untangled his arm from hers. Coincidentally, it was the same floor where Kim Jae-min was staying. The button was already pressed. The woman glanced at Hae-won again, and the man simply withdrew his interest.

The man’s skin scent became noticeable. Hae-won took a step back and leaned against the cornered wall. Hae-won was excessively insensitive to others, to the point where even matching the names and faces of symphony members he worked with was difficult. He had that little interest in others. But for some reason, he felt unsettled.

Hae-won had never seen him before. Yet, he was engulfed by a strange feeling of knowing the man. It was déjà vu. Forgetting a man with such an appearance would mean something was wrong with his head. No matter how much he searched his memory, nothing came to mind. While looking at his back with curiosity, the elevator had already reached the 40th floor.

They got off first. As luck would have it, the direction of the hallway they headed toward also matched. Hae-won could guess where they were staying. In this direction, there were only two rooms. The right side was where Kim Jae-min was staying long-term, so it must be the left. As expected, they went left, and Hae-won moved in the opposite direction.

“I’m bored alone. Finish your talk quickly and come back.”

The woman coquettishly whined. The man seemed to have another appointment. He didn’t answer. Just before opening the door with the card key, he glanced back and met the woman’s eyes. She hurriedly averted her gaze and leaned even more against the man.

Hae-won opened the door before them and entered the room. Whether Kim Jae-min had returned or not, his jacket was carelessly draped over the sofa, and the bathroom light was on.

Where have I seen him…?

No matter how much he thought, nothing came to mind. Hae-won soon gave up thinking and collapsed onto the bed. The lingering images of the man and woman soon disappeared from his mind.

As he rubbed his face against the rustling bedsheet, Kim Jae-min, who had just finished washing, approached. He was naked. Water dripped from him.

Covering Hae-won’s languidly lying body, he immediately stripped off his pants and underwear. When Hae-won looked back at him, without giving any gap or signal, he overlapped their lips and pushed his hot tongue inside. Hae-won slightly parted his lips. He relaxed his limbs, letting him easily explore him.

It seemed the recording from today had already been heard by the relevant parties. The record company had contacted Hae-won. It wasn’t that he hadn’t anticipated such a reaction. He had worked too hard and attracted attention. Work had increased, but he wasn’t particularly keen on it. Watching Hae-won continuously refuse over the phone, Kim Jae-min asked as if it were strange.

“People desperate for work would curse if they saw you. Is lounging around your life’s mission?”

“It’s not something I do to make money.”

“Where did the person who used to talk about unit prices go?”

“Well, if I’m going to do it, my principle is to get paid properly.”

At Hae-won’s curt tone, he smiled.

Kim Jae-min handed Hae-won the coffee that had arrived via room service. Hae-won, lying on the bed, gestured with his eyes toward the side table. Kim Jae-min smiled subtly and, like a diligent and sincere butler, neatly arranged the coffee, milk, sugar, and such on the table.

“You’d be better off as someone’s pet than a pro.”

“With this kind of treatment, being raised by someone’s hand doesn’t seem bad. Eat, sleep…, and fuck.”

“But you’re sexiest when you’re performing.”

Hae-won, who had raised his upper body halfway, reached for the coffee on the side table when Kim Jae-min suddenly slipped his hand into the gap of Hae-won’s robe and swept over his chest. The hand that caressed as if brushing his nipple then pulled the robe off over his shoulders. Hae-won, who had poured out his desire multiple times, found his touch bothersome. He twisted his upper body, telling him to stop.

“Just drink your coffee.”

“That expression when you’re completely immersed, with the violin on this shoulder, slowly drawing the bow down…”

His eyes grew hazy as he recalled Hae-won performing in the booth. Hae-won pushed away the hand sweeping over his chest, raised his shoulder to reach for the coffee, but was stopped by him again. Hae-won gave up on the coffee and lay back on the bed.

“That’s why I don’t perform in front of people. There are people… who become strange like this.”

He raised his knee between Kim Jae-min’s thighs, which were dominating him as if pinning him down. As the robe parted, Hae-won’s bare knee touched his groin. He slowly raised his knee further and firmly pressed against the heated flesh.

It must have been quite painful, but Kim Jae-min didn’t change his position, as if enjoying it. Instead, he slightly lowered his waist in that state, leaning his groin entirely onto Hae-won’s knee. A hot sensation spread through his leg. Hae-won tensed his toes and lifted his knee. He slowly rubbed against his.

“Music is for listening.”

“…Don’t stop. Keep going.”

When Hae-won pressed down quite hard, trying to escape as if telling him to get off now, Kim Jae-min pressed down on Hae-won’s shoulder. Hae-won grimaced. Pleasing someone wasn’t familiar to him. He lowered his knee. Then, Kim Jae-min lowered his waist and pressed his Front Yin

anterior fontanelle

against Hae-won’s bare thigh. Like a dog in heat clinging to its owner, he rubbed his genitals, concealed by pants, against Hae-won’s thigh and moaned. Hae-won, finding the man now lying completely on top of him uncomfortable, stretched out and tried to push him off.

“The coffee’s getting cold.”

“Haa, ugh…, just stay still.”

His breath was ragged. He pressed his face against Hae-won’s cheek, and the man’s entire body squirmed, pressing down with his weight. He lowered his hand and groped between Hae-won’s legs. As if rubbing wasn’t enough, he slowly raised his upper body and said,

“Can you give me a blowjob?”

“No.”

He rarely performed oral acts. Especially from his side. While it was true he found satisfaction with a man’s genitals, Hae-won didn’t like them enough to put them in his mouth and suck. His expression became very resentful and regretful. Kim Jae-min, regretfully, unbuckled his pants, lowered the zipper, and revealed his erect penis.

He took Hae-won’s left hand, which pressed the violin strings, and made him grasp his hardened member. Hae-won wrapped his hand around the sticky, damp thing. Kim Jae-min moaned as if in pain.

“You can do it with your hand, right?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to move, then I have to.”

Holding Kim Jae-min’s genitals, which were firmly planted and not moving, Hae-won slowly stroked. As if playing a man, he moved his hand, appreciating that transparent, boyish excitement. He swept over the hot, swollen glans and circled the tip with his thumb. Adding his right hand, which held the bow, he began to caress him in earnest.

“Ha…, I’m going crazy.”

It must be an excitement even he couldn’t comprehend. Despite all the sex he’d had, he was engulfed in uncontrollable passion, like a boy experiencing his first wet dream from just a hand.

Hae-won looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Matching the rhythm of Hae-won’s stroking hand, Kim Jae-min rocked his hips. The muscles in the arms supporting his body stood out. Shortly after, Kim Jae-min moaned like an animal and ejaculated semen. The hot, thin liquid splattered onto Hae-won’s stomach.

Hae-won stroked the sticky genitals until the trail of semen stretched long. He wiped his wet hand on the robe and pushed away the man who was breathing roughly. Hae-won sat up and said,

“The coffee must be completely cold now. Order a new one.”

As Hae-won got off the bed, the nape of his neck was grabbed by him. A momentary, forceful grip caused pain. Before he could even twist his head to tell him to stop, he grabbed his hair, making him look at him. Startled, Hae-won opened his eyes wide and looked; Kim Jae-min immediately crashed his hot lips against his. Hae-won’s body fell onto the bed with him.

∞ ∞ ∞

After the intense sex, Hae-won fell into a deep sleep. His languid body sank, floating in a dreamlike darkness. A sound came from afar. It was the ringtone of a cellphone.

That sound awakened Hae-won’s consciousness. It was also a sound that shook awake the consciousness of Kim Jae-min, who had fallen asleep overlapping his upper body with his.

Kim Jae-min tossed and turned, wrapping his arms even more tightly around Hae-won’s waist. In the tightening pressure, Hae-won also tossed his body. As the ringing didn’t stop, an irritated sigh escaped his lips.

“At this point, he really is a stalker.”

He muttered in a subdued voice and then released the arm wrapped around Hae-won. Kim Jae-min got up and picked up Hae-won’s cellphone, which had fallen on the floor.

Whether he answered his call or not, Hae-won didn’t care. He didn’t have the energy to even twitch a finger. He thought he preferred his sex style, but from this moment on, he didn’t. He hated Kim Jae-min’s rough sex and his own powerless self, crushed under it, unable to even lift his eyelids. Hae-won lay face down, frowning slightly, not moving a muscle.

“Hey. Who did you say you were? Lee Tae-shin?”

Kim Jae-min attacked the other party as soon as he answered the phone.

“Do you know what time it is now? It’s past 3 a.m. No matter how close you are, calling at this time is bad manners, isn’t it? It’s not just once or twice; isn’t it too much?”

It felt as if Tae-shin’s voice could be heard from the other side of the phone, apologizing profusely and lowering himself. Hae-won didn’t like Kim Jae-min, who showed no courtesy and got irritated at the person who called him, nor Tae-shin, who apologized to him. Hae-won barely raised his upper body. His hair scattered over his forehead, shaking his vision. Sweeping his hair back, he reached out his hand to him.

“Give me the phone.”

He had a face that wanted to spew more words, but as if there was nothing he could do, he handed the phone to Hae-won. Then, he collapsed onto the bed as if falling. The healthy tan color of his skin and the well-maintained lines of his physique etched a bas-relief in the darkness. Hae-won stared at the space between his spread legs and put the phone to his ear.

“It’s me.”

―Sorry. Did I wake you up again? You’re always awake at this time, so I thought you weren’t sleeping yet.

Tae-shin’s rambling excuses were irritating. Hae-won asked irritably.

“What is it?”

―No, nothing. It’s not anything special, just… I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d talk to you, so I called.

Haa, he let out a small sigh, inaudible over the phone, and collapsed onto the bed. Hae-won covered his eyes with his arm. He pushed Tae-shin’s voice, which sounded as if coming from a distant place, out of his mind. He could hear what he was saying, but the content wasn’t registering. Like the noise of a radio playing in the background, it wasn’t a voice or content worth listening to.

Hae-won lay there, half-conscious, drunk on sleep. Then, he slowly opened his eyes. Beyond the hotel window without curtains, the Waning Moon, obscured by clouds, was visible. The moon spread a subtle, cold light thickly like mist.

“What? Say it again.”

―I slept with him.

“You slept with him?”

―Didn’t I tell you? That man is a Special Investigation Division prosecutor. It seems a friend of my father is involved in this case. So, I helped a bit, and he said he wanted to treat me to dinner as thanks. I didn’t know what to do, so I called you, but you didn’t answer… I went out and met him anyway. I must have been crazy. All I could think about was that I had to confess.

“…Didn’t you say that man is seeing someone?”

He had thought there was absolutely nothing worth listening to in his call, but the content, which drove away the sleepiness flooding in like a disaster and made Hae-won focus, was somewhat interesting.

Hae-won still kept his eyes open and, for the first time in his life, listened attentively to his words. He had never even thought that Tae-shin’s crush was a real person who actually existed in reality. The story was that this pitiful animal had confessed his love to such a person and they had mingled their bodies. He couldn’t help but be curious.

―I don’t know. I liked him so much I confessed without even realizing it… He looked at me as if I were absurd. I really wanted to die at that moment, but he said he’d think about it.

“And then?”

―Hae-won-ah, he’s really kind. We met a few times after that. Then he asked me if I was sure.

“Sure about what?”

―Sure that I liked him, if I could take off my clothes in front of him.

“If you could take off your clothes in front of him?”

If it were Hae-won, he would have said, “What kind of nonsense is that?” but Tae-shin took it as a response to his confession.

―I went to him and said I could. He hugged me.

His voice was filled with joy. At the part where he said, “He hugged me,” the silhouette of a man embracing Tae-shin, trembling in the darkness, naturally came to mind.

“And then you slept?”

―It was incredibly ecstatic. You have no idea how kind he was. I wanted to tell you first, so I called.

“……”

―I really like him. I think I really love that man.

Ah, she must be groping the empty space beside her, still warm from the man whose heat hasn’t yet fully faded. While Hae-won was having rough sex with Kim Jae-min, Tae-shin was also having sex with a man. Well, it was the kind of late night when many people would be pressed skin-to-skin.

Tae-shin recounted in a voice lost in something—how flustered he had been, how much he had trembled, how good it had felt—going on and on. Hae-won just listened without saying a word.

Was this the fruit of a long, tedious one-sided love?

It didn’t make sense logically. If that man was a real person, a man holding a public office like a prosecutor wouldn’t just embrace someone who impulsively confessed despite having different inclinations, without any thought of the consequences. Especially if the other person was oblivious and foolish by nature. But Tae-shin seemed to think the man had no ulterior motives. Hae-won had neither the will nor the heart to voice the opinion that he seemed to be getting used, not with Tae-shin’s voice brimming with happiness.

Most of the friends who graduated from the arts high school were from fairly well-off middle-class families or above, but Tae-shin’s family was among the wealthiest of them all. If Tae-shin had helped that prosecutor with a case related to his father’s friend, Hae-won couldn’t help but think the prosecutor was using Tae-shin for some advantage. Hae-won had known Tae-shin for over ten years.

Hae-won slowly turned onto his side, shifting his position. He met the eyes of Kim Jae-min, who he thought was asleep. Jae-min was staring intently at Hae-won.

This is love.

These are the eyes of someone who likes another person.

If that were love, he wouldn’t have left Tae-shin alone and hurried away. A man in love is that kind of animal.

Kim Jae-min reached out and grabbed Hae-won’s hair. With a gentle grip that didn’t hurt, he pulled and turned Hae-won’s face to look directly at him.

“Enough with the bedroom review. Let’s sleep.”

Hae-won spoke to Tae-shin, who was lost in bliss, and hung up. Kim Jae-min took the phone and turned it off. The device fell with a soft thud onto the plush carpet beneath the bed.

“I’d like to hear a review of this side’s bedroom performance.”

He said lazily, bringing his lips close. Hae-won closed his eyes and spread his legs as Jae-min positioned himself.

After another round, for some reason, sleep wouldn’t come. Kim Jae-min, spent, had fallen fast asleep. Tired but unable to sleep, Hae-won lay in bed with an alert mind until dawn began to break with a bluish light, then got up. With a slightly swollen, tired face, he lightly dressed and left the hotel room.

The 24-hour lounge was empty. Only the staff preparing the breakfast service starting at six in the morning were bustling about. He drank a cup of coffee, but the busyness of greeting the new morning felt oddly alienating, so he left the lounge.

He thought of a place likely to be empty. He headed to the pool. He borrowed swimwear from the front desk staff. In the completely empty changing room, he took off his clothes and changed into the palm-sized swimsuit. He quickly wet his body in the shower area and followed the hall leading to the pool.

The distinct smell of pool disinfectant felt refreshing. As Hae-won expected, no one was in the pool with its eight lanes. It was early, after all. In the empty space, his footsteps echoed softly. Only the sound of water adjusting the pool level resonated in the high-ceilinged space.

Hae-won jumped into the water. Set to a lukewarm temperature, the water wasn’t cold. He cut through the water toward the opposite side of the lane. He didn’t have the stamina to turn and swim back.

Upon reaching the opposite side, Hae-won clung to the lane where his feet couldn’t touch the bottom, breathing heavily. He wiped his wet face and lifted his blurred vision. Thinking he was alone, he saw someone approaching through the water, creating splashes along the adjacent lane.

The swimmer’s strokes were flexible and powerful like an athlete’s, smooth as if feeling no water pressure at all. The speed was quite fast too. It was an impressive skill. He must be an athlete or someone who had swum for a long time. Unlike Hae-won, who stopped at the opposite end, the man approached quickly, creating a wake as he executed a turn. Using that momentum, he sprang forward elastically.

Hae-won caught his breath a bit more, then switched to backstroke and slowly advanced. After circling the rail a few times like that, he left the pool.

He stood under the shower separated by opaque frosted glass. Perhaps the swimsuit didn’t fit properly, as red marks had formed around his hips and thighs. He took off the tight swimsuit, hung it on the frosted glass partition, and turned on the shower. A warm stream of water poured down. He squeezed the provided liquid soap, roughly applied it to his body, rubbed, and created lather.

He stood there for a while, enjoying the strong stream of water falling on his head, as if dozing off, then suddenly turned his head. Flesh-colored light showed through the frosted glass next to him. Someone was showering in the adjacent stall. Except for Hae-won’s spot, all the showers attached to the hotel pool were empty.

Out of all those many spots, that man had to shower right next to him, so Hae-won couldn’t help but look. Hae-won wasn’t short either, but the man was a head taller, with a large frame. Ah, it must be the man from the adjacent lane who cut through the water like a dolphin.

Though not clearly visible, just the outline beyond the opaque glass was enough to tell how well-trained his physique was. Below the knees, there was no glass covering, so the man’s feet were visible. Following them upward with his gaze, Hae-won saw something dark through the well-developed thighs. The man’s hand slid into his thick groin. Though faintly visible through the frosted glass, just the washing motion suggested considerable weight and volume.

Hae-won found it hard to understand people who obsessively managed their bodies. Apart from simple exercises to avoid losing stamina, thanks to being born with good physical conditions like his father, he had no interest in building his body through exercise.

With good physical conditions and diligent self-care, one could develop a body like that.

More than envy, he felt drawn as he watched him, then Hae-won turned his head forward.

After finishing his shower, he headed to the changing room. He picked up one of the stacked towels and dried his body. Habitually covering himself below with the towel and tying it, he sat on the simple chair in front of the locker, shaking out his wet hair with his hands, when he heard footsteps.

Perhaps the swimmer had finished showering. Whether by coincidence or due to a thoughtless staff member’s arrangement, he approached the lockers where Hae-won was sitting. Hae-won paid no attention, just shaking out his wet hair.

“Is this yours, by any chance?”

At the sudden voice, he turned his head.

Sweeping back his disheveled hair with his fingers, Hae-won looked up at the man. On the tip of the man’s second finger dangled a palm-sized, tiny swimsuit, dripping water precariously.

“Ah.”

Hae-won made a dumb sound and just stared at the swimsuit hanging clumsily from the man’s finger. When the man wiggled his finger, a drop of water fell from the swimsuit onto Hae-won’s thigh.

“It’s mine.”

Without saying sorry or thank you, Hae-won snatched it from the man’s hand as if seizing it. He took the damp piece of fabric and placed it on the towel he’d been using to dry his hair.

The man said nothing further, inserted his key into the opposite locker, and took out his clothes. Feeling somehow embarrassed, Hae-won looked down at the swimsuit on the towel, then glanced away. He met the eyes of the man drying his wet groin with a dry towel. What he’d faintly seen through the frosted glass was indeed not imagination or exaggeration.

“……”

Eyes that were rude yet not burdensome, an arrogant bridge of the nose that seemed like it wouldn’t speak untruths even out of pride.

Where had he seen him before?

Without realizing it, Hae-won stared at him for a while, then recalled last night’s lounge. The man who had been with a woman with meticulously done pedicures. Even just looking, his sharp, overwhelming eyes slowly licked over Hae-won. And his indifferent, turning face suddenly seemed to be smiling.

“……”

Dismissing it as his imagination, Hae-won averted his gaze. He roughly shook out his hair and opened the locker. In the mirror attached to the locker door, his pale, freshly washed face was reflected. As he bent to take out his underwear, the red marks on his neck and shoulders stood out vividly. He thought he knew what the man had been smiling at.

Hae-won covered his nape with his hand, glanced at the man behind him in the mirror, then froze. His eyes met the man’s again in the mirror.

Neither he nor Hae-won looked away. It wasn’t some pointless battle of wills over who would look away first. Just being there, looking at each other—the moment stretched long like eternity. The man was the first to look away. His phone rang. In the mirror, the man lowered his eyes, took the phone from the locker, and brought it to his ear.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

A low, mid-range voice that suited his appearance perfectly.

“I’ll arrange a seat soon. I’ve checked in advance, so tell them not to worry.”

As if completely unconcerned that Hae-won was listening, the man’s tone neither rose nor fell. It was an emotionless tone, like giving work instructions.

Hae-won draped the towel around his neck to hide the red marks Kim Jae-min had left and put on his underwear.

After ending the call, the man put down his phone as if tossing it and quickly dressed. With efficient movements, he finished dressing while Hae-won was putting on his pants and walked out of the changing room. Though he hadn’t particularly noticed it, as soon as the man disappeared, Hae-won’s breathing grew louder. As if he’d been holding it in.

Facing his own reflection in the mirror, Hae-won removed the towel covering his neck and shoulders. He really had left a lot of noticeable marks. Constantly leaving marks wasn’t a good sign. Hae-won touched the kiss marks engraved here and there on his upper body and grimaced.

Kim Jae-min was awake. As soon as Hae-won entered the hotel room, he asked where he’d been. Hae-won didn’t answer and picked up the phone that had fallen beside the bed. When he tried to turn on the power Jae-min had turned off last night, there was no response, perhaps because it was dead. He just put the phone in his pocket.

“Where? Don’t tell me you went swimming?”

Jae-min asked, seemingly amazed at Hae-won’s diligent activity since dawn.

“I like exercise.”

“Doesn’t look like a body that likes exercise.”

He pulled Hae-won into an embrace from behind, groping his stomach and chest. Though not completely without muscle, it wasn’t the kind built through exercise. Kim Jae-min’s lips moved along Hae-won’s nape and shoulders, where the kiss marks he’d made remained messily.

“I have something to do today.”

“You said you don’t perform for money.”

“Not that, I have a lesson.”

“You give lessons too?”

He asked in surprise. It was a retort questioning how someone like him, who had no interest in others, could possibly teach anyone. Hae-won didn’t refute his expression but looked at him steadily.

“I’m not giving a lesson, I’m taking one.”

“You’re taking a lesson? Why?”

He seemed not to understand this either. He stared blankly, as if he’d heard something truly absurd.

“Am I not allowed to take lessons?”

“Didn’t you leave the symphony because you hated that sort of thing?”

“That was tolerable enough; I left because I hated other things.”

Things like hierarchy and factions. Even for someone not of his temperament, they were hard to endure. That he abruptly left the top symphony, which was hard to get into, was because he had a wealthy father, not because he was brave.

Anyway, no matter how indifferent Hae-won was to others or how he lived cutting off relationships, he was still a person living in society. He had to maintain minimal connections to make a living, and he had to consider the possibility that his father might go bankrupt or go crazy and cut off support.

Life was something that became shabby without money. He didn’t want to live shabbily. He wanted to sleep in hotels, dine at fancy restaurants, continue insisting on the brands of clothes he liked to wear, and go to concerts he wanted to hear without worry. He wanted to be stimulated listening to others’ performances. And the most important reason was to avoid a worst-case scenario where he’d have to sell his instrument.

It was strange. Without any particular great attachment or passion, he still wanted to avoid that. Thinking such thoughts, it suddenly seemed like a good idea to take out a few insurance policies to prepare for the worst-case scenario, so he turned his head toward Kim Jae-min.

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

“……”

He looked at Kim Jae-min for a while, who asked without releasing the arms holding him. Suddenly, everything felt bothersome. Hae-won wasn’t that meticulous or well-prepared a person. He just went to lessons without skipping and worked sporadically like beans sprouting in a drought; if the time came to sell his instrument, he could just sell his body.

Hae-won freed himself from Kim Jae-min’s annoying arms and gathered his wallet, sunglasses, and violin case.

“I have mixing work today too. Want to meet for dinner later?”

“I have dinner plans.”

“You’re not coming today?”

“If I have time. Don’t wait for me.”

Leaving him with a lingering look, Hae-won left the hotel. As he exited the lobby, the strong morning sun stabbed his eyes. He blocked the light with his sunglasses. The glaring sunlight was as uncomfortable and irritating as the busy morning. Hae-won reached out to a waiting taxi.

∞ ∞ ∞

“Your shoulders are too tense. Relax.”

It didn’t seem like he was particularly tense, but the professor always said the same thing. The prestigious music university professor, whose hair at the temples had turned white, had been instructing Hae-won since his arts high school entrance exam.

When a rookie college student insisted that nine-year-old Hae-won had perfect pitch and must pursue music, his father scattered a lot of money into the air to get him good teachers. Hae-won, who didn’t have a strong will to learn, didn’t mesh well with coercive teaching styles. He never ran away to skip lessons, but when he didn’t want to do something, he didn’t respond to anything the teachers said.

Those who thought it was fine as long as they got paid just went through the motions of teaching Hae-won, filling the time and leaving, so Hae-won’s skills never improved no matter how many good teachers he was given.

The professor who had produced world-class violinists was far beyond the reach of the lesson fees given to mediocre teachers. Fortunately, thanks to his wealthy father, Hae-won got the chance to perform before him. Though anyone would have found it lackluster, he decided to instruct Hae-won.

Under his guidance, Hae-won was able to enter the arts high school. When Hae-won was a first-year at the arts high school, the professor was already a full professor at a certain music university in his thirties. And now he was the department head at the same university’s music college, still giving Hae-won lessons. For free, at that.

It was also the professor who helped Hae-won acquire the violin that even professors coveted. People lined up wanting to play their music for him even if it meant paying extra, but it was Hae-won, an unknown freelancer who had been expelled from the symphony rather than leaving on his own, who found receiving lessons from such a person bothersome despite not knowing his place.

“Your shoulders are too stiff.”

The professor, who had been watching from behind, grabbed Hae-won’s arm as he drew the bow long. A hand that coveted Hae-won’s talent like stroking a desired object slid up his arm to his shoulder.

Hae-won lowered the violin he’d been holding between his chin and shoulder. Perhaps because he hadn’t slept well due to Kim Jae-min last night, his physical condition wasn’t great.

The professor’s two hands kneaded his shoulders with a gentle grip. The notes intricately entangled on the sheet music lay there roundly, just waiting for someone to turn them into sound.

The violin, maintained by a professional once a month, and the flesh of the musician who played it. The professor had emphasized many times that the musician’s body was also an instrument.

“Trills must be practiced daily before playing the piece. Don’t rush to play from the start.”

“Yes.”

“Like vibrato, start slowly, completely release the muscle tension, then speed up.”

He picked up the instrument and placed it on his shoulder. Hae-won gripped the bow with his right hand. He lightly placed the bow hair on the string. The E string wasn’t the original but a different product he’d replaced it with, so each time the bow touched it, the feel was different, and the tension was stronger, making his fingers hurt more than usual.

“In low positions, relax your fingers and shoulders. Your arm too. You can do it in fast tempos, but why isn’t the slow tempo accurate? Try playing while paying attention to your fourth finger. As I always emphasize, the important thing is accurate finger positioning.”

Each time he gave an instruction, Hae-won corrected one thing at a time.

“Bow control, and don’t do it thoughtlessly—interpret as you play.”

The phrase I heard most often while studying music was to interpret. Music, after all, is a humanities subject; without understanding the era and the composer’s circumstances, interpretation is impossible. You cannot perform music properly. It’s not enough to just have technique. You must imbue it with emotion, and in that moment, you must become the composer. Only by focusing on the composer’s motivation and expression can you properly interpret a piece.

Whenever Hae-won heard such words, he thought of performers as being similar to actors. Immersing themselves completely in emotions created by someone else. As Hae-won lowered his bow, the professor adjusted his elbow to the proper angle and nodded for him to continue.

He learned that Kim Jae-min had returned to America through the last message Jae-min sent. The phone rang several times, but Hae-won didn’t answer. Jae-min didn’t seem like the type to leave clingy texts or anything like that, but when he couldn’t reach Hae-won even up to the moment he had to leave, he sent a message. It was a brief message saying to contact him if Hae-won ever thought about visiting America. Hae-won didn’t reply. It was because he only checked the message two days after it was sent. The timing was too late for a response.

In the meantime, Hae-won worked on a few projects. His routine returned to normal. He took lessons from the professor, maintained basic physical fitness through tennis and swimming, went to concerts, or had dinner at fancy restaurants. He was called into the recording studio several times as a session musician for a fairly famous singer’s album. The pay was decent enough. The album produced by Kim Jae-min also seemed to be selling quite well, as a substantial final payment came in.

Whether money was tight or overflowing, Hae-won never neglected the monthly ritual of receiving his living expenses. On the date set by his stepmother, he headed to the main house. His father’s car was parked in front of the house. Getting out of the taxi, Hae-won ran into his father, who was just stepping out of his car.

“Oh, our eldest son. Long time no see. Has it been two months?”

He asked Hae-won, who was adjusting the violin case on his shoulder. As long as Hae-won carried his violin well, his father thought he was living diligently. It wasn’t that Hae-won carried it specifically for his father to see; it was just that he had brought it because he was on his way back from a lesson today.

“Are you just back from a business trip?”

“This one was a bit long. I was gone for about two weeks.”

“You go often.”

“Have to work hard. Our Hae-jeong is six now. Daddy has to work hard.”

The nonsense was delivered with such sincerity that Hae-won almost burst out laughing unintentionally. Even as Hae-won stared at him with a bewildered expression, his father paid no mind, handed his luggage to the driver, placed a hand on Hae-won’s shoulder, and pulled him toward the gate. Hae-won hated physical contact with his father, but being pulled so forcefully, he was practically dragged along.

“It’s really obvious.”

“What is?”

“That you’ve set up a new life over there.”

“What? What, what are you talking about?!”

His father flusteredly let go of Hae-won. Hae-won brushed off his shoulder where his father’s arm had touched.

“How old is she?”

At Hae-won’s question, he hurriedly looked around. There was no one around them. The driver was just closing the large gate behind him, pulling a big suitcase as he followed them inside.

“What kind of nonsense is that? Am I crazy? Changing wives three times?”

“It’s still two.”

“Ah, right. It’s still two. You little rascal. Are you working hard? You only come home when it’s time to get money, right?”

As if struck a nerve, the arrow turned back toward Hae-won.

“Well, it would be easier for everyone if you just sent it to my bank. What’s the point of this? Or just give me a card. I don’t want to come either.”

“Watch your mouth. If I gave you a card, you wouldn’t show your face even once a year, that’s why I changed it.”

They passed by an ugly, gnarled old pine tree stuck randomly in the yard and entered the house. The housekeeper opened the door and greeted them.

“President, welcome back from your trip.”

“Yes, ma’am. Nothing happened at home, right?”

“Nothing at all. Everyone’s been well.”

The housekeeper took the jacket from his father’s hand and also greeted Hae-won.

“Student Hae-won, you came at just the right time. Stay for dinner. Last time, Madam was very disappointed.”

He set down his violin in the spot where he always left it.

His stepmother, wearing bright makeup, appeared, opening the bedroom door. Hae-jeong also came running down the stairs from that floor, shouting, “Daddy!” His father also ran after Hae-jeong and swept his young daughter into a big hug. Seeing that sight, Hae-won thought this marriage might last a long time.

It was natural for a father to love his child, but the way his father treated his late-born daughter, after only seeing a stoic son for so long, was quite different from how he treated Hae-won.

“Did you have a good trip? You came too?”

His stepmother coldly observed the father-daughter scene and then turned to look at Hae-won.

“Hello.”

“My goodness. In all my life, is that how a son speaks to his mother? It’s like something a passing dog would say.”

Perhaps his words from last time had stuck in her heart, as she was particularly chilly today. His father, who had been rubbing Hae-jeong’s cheeks and making a fuss, made a meaningless warning sound, “Ahem,” toward his stepmother.

“Enough, eat and then go. Today, eat first.”

“Give me the money. I have to go.”

“Do you know when the last time our family ate together was?”

What does it matter? Hae-won, who didn’t want to know and didn’t want to do that, stared at her expressionlessly. She was spouting such absurd nonsense about ‘our family.’ Hae-won didn’t consider his stepmother and Hae-jeong as ‘our family.’

“A year ago. A year ago, on Hae-jeong’s birthday.”

“Has it been that long? Hae-won, you, eat today. No excuses. It’s been a long time since the family gathered for a meal.”

“…….”

Just who is this ‘family’?

The words rose to his throat, but Hae-won only hardened his expression coldly and didn’t open his mouth.

Hae-jeong, held in her father’s arms, also stared intently at Hae-won as if she had something to say. His stepmother waved her hand as if she didn’t want to hear anything and went into the kitchen. His father also followed her, still holding Hae-jeong.

Letting out a deep sigh, Hae-won had no choice but to go inside. Coincidentally, because he had arrived at the same time as his father, dinner was already prepared.

The dining table was lavish. For Hae-won, whose three daily meals consisted of taking out one or two side dishes, or if that was too bothersome, delivery food or instant meals—unless he was eating out—the complaint about being pointlessly detained by this rare feast soon faded. It seemed he should fill his stomach before leaving.

“Hae-jeong’s mother put in effort today.”

“Did I do it? The housekeeper did everything. Sit down. Hae-jeong, you too, stop clinging to Daddy.”

Four people who could never get along sat facing each other for the first time in a long while. Hae-won lifted Hae-jeong, who was tiptoeing to sit on the dining chair, by her waist and sat her down beside him. Hae-jeong looked at him awkwardly, and when their eyes met, she quickly looked away. Hae-won picked up his spoon with a sullen face.

“You, that whatchamacallit, is the freelancing going well?”

His father asked insincerely while putting a side dish his stepmother served into his mouth.

“I’m doing just enough not to starve.”

“Good, just do that much. Art isn’t something you do for a living. If you’re short, tell your father.”

“Just give me the card. I don’t want to talk.”

Annoyance surged up sharply. Hae-won stopped eating and raised his eyes. His father pretended not to see his sharp gaze and turned his attention to Hae-jeong.

“Oh my, our Hae-jeong, eat a lot.”

“I said give me a card.”

“If we don’t have something like that, we wouldn’t see you even once a year. Coming to your parents for money is also part of being a child. Do that much at least.”

“A parent has to act like a parent for a child to act like a child.”

Are you determined to make me say it all? Do you want to feel better by blabbing about your scheme to change wives three times right here? When Hae-won glared sharply, his father, who had done nothing well except make money, once again ignored Hae-won’s silent scream.

His stepmother acted solicitously and placed a slice of grilled meat on his father’s rice bowl.

“What kind of way is that to speak to your father? If coming to get money is such a bother, I’ll bring it when I come to deliver side dishes.”

“…….”

Hae-won didn’t reply and rolled the rice grains in his mouth with his tongue.

“Laundry too, and I should see how you’re living. Someone needs to take care of your household.”

At Hae-won’s silence, his stepmother added, gauging his reaction. Hae-won, who had been listening quietly, nodded and replied.

“Then bring it to my Officetel.”

“……Really?”

“Yes, if you bring it, it would be convenient for me.”

“Then should I come starting next month?”

His stepmother’s eyes sparkled at Hae-won’s words. His obtuse father cleared his throat, looking back and forth between Hae-won and his stepmother.

“Why would you go all the way there? Just give him the card. Don’t start a tug-of-war over something like this.”

“I should see how Hae-won lives, and since he’s doing music, someone needs to support him.”

“Don’t do that. For a grown kid, money is enough support.”

“But still.”

“I said enough.”

At his father’s cold tone, his stepmother, as if regretful, dragged out her words, heavily laden with lingering attachment.

Hae-won pretended not to know and focused only on the meal. His stepmother and Hae-won were only eight years apart, and it was fortunate that his father seemed conscious of that.

After the meal, Hae-won sat facing his father on the living room sofa. His father took out a card from his wallet and held it out.

“If you didn’t like coming and going, you should have said so.”

“I told you every time I saw you.”

Hae-won took the card and put it in his wallet. His stepmother happened to bring a tray with tea and snacks.

“Have some tea.”

She set the teacups and fruit on the table. Then, suddenly, she knelt on the floor next to the sofa where his father was sitting, speared a piece of fruit from the plate with a fork, and held it out to him.

Both his father and Hae-won were equally bewildered. The working housekeeper also widened her eyes at the stepmother’s action. His father tried to awkwardly take the fruit fork offered by the kneeling woman. Then, his stepmother shook her head and made an “Ahh,” sound.

As if being controlled by someone, his father’s spine stiffened coldly, and he opened his mouth, “Ahh.” An apple, beautifully peeled, slid into his mouth. He chewed the fruit noisily, gulped it down, and said.

“You should get married soon too. A man must live being served like this for his business to go well and things to work out smoothly outside.”

“Is it delicious?”

His stepmother smiled gently. She speared another piece of fruit with the fork and forcefully put it in his mouth. His father accepted it, chewing reluctantly, and pointed at Hae-won as if to say this is how one should live.

The fruit pieces on the plate all disappeared into his mouth. Like a scene from a horror movie, his father ate everything she gave him and, under the unusual atmosphere created by his stepmother, couldn’t even say he was full.

He didn’t have the patience to endure this boring show. When Hae-won put down what he was drinking as if throwing it, a thud sound echoed. His father, who was reluctantly swallowing the fruit, and his stepmother both turned to look at him simultaneously.

“Don’t just go out; guard the home front too.”

“Guard the home front?”

“What do you mean, guard the home front?”

At Hae-won’s words, they pointed at their own chests and asked whom he was pointing at. Hae-won looked at them pitifully and stood up. Hae-jeong, frightened by the sight of her stepmother kneeling beside her father and doing something she’d never done in her life, was standing far away, watching their reactions.

Hae-jeong’s eyes turned toward Hae-won. Hae-won greeted only Hae-jeong gently.

“Hae-jeong, goodbye.”

“Brother, goodbye…….”

He forced a smile for Hae-jeong, who was hiding behind a pillar and waving her hand slightly, then turned away. The housekeeper was waiting at the entrance, holding Hae-won’s violin case.

“I’ll be going now.”

“Student Hae-won, please come more often. In this big house, when the President is away on business, how scary it is for just us women.”

“The driver is here, and the staff are always staying here.”

“Are those people the same as family?”

“If I stay home, it’s noisy for me.”

Hae-won shook his head, saying no. As if understanding, the housekeeper said nothing more and saw Hae-won off.

As he went out, violin case slung over his shoulder, his father chased after him. He waved his hand dismissively at his hesitating stepmother, signaling there was no need for her to come out, to go inside. When the door closed, his stepmother was no longer visible.

Walking down the path crossing the garden, his father put an arm around Hae-won’s shoulder as if they were close.

“Did that woman hear something?”

“What would she have to hear to know? Don’t you know words like intuition, gut feeling?”

“If you didn’t let it slip, how would she know by intuition or gut feeling?”

“When have you ever seen me care about such things? Don’t frame an innocent person.”

“Is it someone else’s family matter? It’s your father’s business, why aren’t you interested?”

It seemed true that his father was hiding someone in America. Hae-won’s expression naturally contorted.

“Just stop changing them. Forget about me, but Hae-jeong is pitiful.”

“Of course. That’s why I’m trying not to have more kids.”

“Just play around moderately, why do you have to set up a household?”

“It’s thrilling.”

“…….”

Let’s not talk. He was utterly dumbfounded. As if having affairs was the secret to staying young, even at an age approaching sixty, his father wore a mischievous, boyish expression.

Wearing this innocent expression, his father had insulted Hae-won’s biological mother. It was fortunate that he was at least good to Hae-won; Hae-won knew well that the very human being he didn’t even want to associate with, father or not, whenever he thought of his biological mother, was his own biological father.

He didn’t answer the man who was blabbering on, even with his back turned. He left the house and walked down the alley. Having achieved his primary goal of receiving the card, he had no reason to come here anymore. Thinking that, his steps felt lighter. Hae-won reached out toward an approaching empty taxi.

∞ ∞ ∞

As summer drew to a close, the ginkgo leaves on the street trees turned yellow. People’s clothing grew longer. From the top floor of an Officetel by the main road, the changing seasons were palpable in the view of the street below.

The album he worked on with Kim Jae-min recorded high sales. If you turned on the radio, Hae-won’s playing would flow out. Perhaps because of that, more offers came in. He had no interest in how much they paid. Work was decided based on his mood each day. If he felt like going, he went; if he didn’t, he didn’t. Thanks to the card from his father, he also cut off jobs he had to do despite not really wanting to.

There was contact from Kim Jae-min, but Hae-won didn’t answer. He had no desire to hold the phone and exchange trivial chatter with someone who wasn’t even in Korea. Because too many calls came from unknown numbers, he put his phone on silent, and he unintentionally missed Tae-shin’s calls.

Hae-won passed time listlessly. He woke up in the morning, showered, and practiced. In the afternoon, he went to exercise, spent the day mingling among people, some days went for lessons, some days earned money as a freelance musician, passing the seasons.

Not long after autumn began, the weather turned sharply cold. It was winter, the season when news came that the first snow had fallen somewhere.

So this year is passing without anything happening too.

He filled his closet with winter clothes, but his daily life didn’t change. It was a day like any other: wake up, shower, practice, watch busy people, go somewhere to perform or practice, spending winter.

That winter, when it seemed nothing would happen, the day after a heavy snowfall.

Tae-shin died.

It was suicide.