CNC 152

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“Mistakes are wrongs that can be forgiven and undone, but wrongs that cannot are sins. What you did to me wasn’t a mistake. It was a sin, so you must pay the price.”

Choi Hong-seo’s gaze lingered on one spot for a long time as he scanned the script. It was a line spoken by Park Dong-ha, who played the son of a couple running a famous restaurant in the play. It was also a part that Park Dong-ha had been criticized for by Director Kang Woo-hyun during the last script study.

While Director Kang hadn’t been harsh, Choi Hong-seo thought the acting was overly cliché.

Park Dong-ha, though not born with exceptional talent, was a diligent worker like Choi Hong-seo. He clung to his characters until the end, feeling his own deficiencies, and though he was sometimes told his interpretations were too bold, he never brought a predictable performance to the study.

It was probably largely due to being dropped from a role he was slated to star in.

“I thought your method was wrong, Hyung. But it wasn’t. I don’t know about other industries, but here, talent isn’t everything. Even if you work hard and wait, you might not even get a chance. This is that kind of place.”

He recalled the venomous words Park Dong-ha had spewed at ‘Yoon Hye-an’ after the study. Now that he had a general idea of how Yoon Hye-an had lived his entertainment career, he couldn’t help but think those words referred to a sponsor.

Had he been pushed out by another actor with a powerful sponsor behind them?

Swish, a warm hand enveloped Choi Hong-seo’s jaw from behind, sweeping forward. The moment he felt his head being turned by the hand, a soft kiss covered his lips and then pulled away.

“……”

Lee Hae-sung was looking down with a smile of bewilderment. The hand on his jaw gently stroked his skin with his thumb.

“Your hand kept stopping on that page. Is there a scene that’s not unfolding well?”

“No. I just zoned out for a moment.”

Sitting side-by-side on the same sofa, Choi Hong-seo was looking through the script, while Lee Hae-sung browsed through documents and articles he needed to check, spending their holiday afternoon.

“Pay some attention to me. You’ve neglected me for too long.”

Lee Hae-sung, moving closer, wrapped his arm around Choi Hong-seo’s waist and pulled him into his embrace. Choi Hong-seo’s back touched Lee Hae-sung’s chest. Burying his chin on his shoulder, he turned his head and buried his face deep into his neck, inhaling his scent. Holding the script in one hand, Choi Hong-seo gently stroked his head and ears with the other.

“Feeling sluggish? Shall we go for a walk in the garden?”

From the living room on the third floor, half of the two-thousand-square-meter garden was visible. The mansion was surrounded by a vast garden decorated with three different themes. It was for enjoying the countryside, and also for protecting their privacy from curiosity.

Looking at the garden, Choi Hong-seo turned his gaze to Lee Hae-sung’s pale face, his eyes dark under the lids from lack of sleep. He thought fresh air and sunlight might help him even a little. When he nodded, Lee Hae-sung put down his tablet first and offered his hand.

Lee Hae-sung still didn’t know about Choi Hong-seo’s ordeal last night. It hadn’t been as severe as the times in the ancestral shrine, Director Kang’s drawing room, or Lee Hae-sung’s villa in Seocho-dong, where he had completely lost consciousness. Sweating profusely and feeling a dizzying nausea, Choi Hong-seo had drifted into sleep.

Last night, he had just been scared for nothing; perhaps it wasn’t ‘it’ after all. Maybe he just had a fever.

When he woke up, his condition was completely normal. His body ached from the aftermath of sex, and the places where he had been held tightly or rubbed raw were slightly sore, but otherwise, it was no different from usual. Yes, it must have been his imagination. It had been the same pattern every time until now. Therefore, his sleep was a bigger problem than his own.

Even if it was just a walk in the garden in front of the house, the environment was similar to walking in the countryside. To walk in weather that was 2 degrees Celsius required heavy gear. Choi Hong-seo glanced at Lee Hae-sung’s retreating back as he led the way to the dressing room. He didn’t like talking about his anxieties.

How long Choi Hong-seo’s soul could remain in Yoon Hye-an’s body. No one could be sure. One day, he might suddenly open his eyes and find that Choi Hong-seo had disappeared from within this body, and both body and soul had become entirely Yoon Hye-an. If Yoon Hye-an was truly destined to remain in a coma forever, Choi Hong-seo’s soul might just vanish, and the body might return to its previous comatose state.

Since an impossible thing had happened, there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t revert to normal again at any moment, without any reason or warning.

And Lee Hae-sung was very reluctant to talk about that anxiety.

Choi Hong-seo understood what kind of psychology that was. It wasn’t that he considered it trivial and didn’t want to talk about it. It was too frightening, and there was no solution in sight, so he wanted to ignore it.

It was precisely because of that anxiety that Lee Hae-sung of ARA couldn’t sleep properly and was wasting away. Something had to be done.

“That rascal is causing trouble again.”

Lee Hae-sung chuckled, lowering his voice to a whisper. Choi Hong-seo stopped walking to follow him. Tiffany was lingering by the door leading to the dressing room. Bracing herself on her hind legs, she was trying hard to push the door open with her plump gray paws. The two watched her from the hallway for a while.

The rascal tried hard to push its paw into the slightly visible black gap. It even tried to shove its face in. It couldn’t comprehend why the playground it always frequented was closed today, letting out questioning meows, “Nyao? Nyao?” The rascal showed no sign of giving up.

Tiffany’s antics brought a brief smile to Choi Hong-seo and Lee Hae-sung. When they could no longer suppress their laughter, Choi Hong-seo called out to her first.

“Tiffany.”

The two gray-furred ears perked up, and she turned towards them. “Niya, why is the door closed?” she cried out reproachfully. Staring intently at Choi Hong-seo from where she sat, she tilted her head a couple of times. Then, dodo-do, she ran down the hallway. It was still rare for her to approach first, so Choi Hong-seo lowered himself and extended his hand towards her.

“You’re not supposed to go in there. You have plenty of toys in your room.”

After sniffing Choi Hong-seo’s hand for a moment, Tiffany circled around it and meowed loudly, lifting her chin. Although she seemed displeased, Choi Hong-seo found her appearance adorable. He stroked her from head to tail, and Lee Hae-sung spoke from above his head.

“What’s wrong? She looks anxious?”

“Does she? Perhaps she’s angry because she wants to go into the dressing room but can’t?”

Tiffany now rubbed her body against Choi Hong-seo’s thigh and purred.

“Don’t cats purr when they’re happy? Has she cheered up already?”

Happy that Tiffany was actively initiating physical contact, Choi Hong-seo stroked her long fur more diligently. Lee Hae-sung also knelt on one knee, burying his large hand in Tiffany’s soft fur.

“They also purr to soothe anxiety. I’ve heard they purr to comfort their owners when they seem sad or upset. Perhaps she sensed you were feeling down?”

“Tiffany, was that it? Did I look unhappy?”

Thinking that perhaps Tiffany had sensed his anxiety and was trying to comfort him, his brow grew hot. He gathered his courage and carefully picked her up. She stared intently at various parts of Choi Hong-seo’s face, as if confirming something. “Nyao, Nyao,” she cried out a few more times, then leaped down and disappeared down the stairs leading to the lower floor.

Even if he couldn’t ask Tiffany her true intentions, he was certain that she sensed things he couldn’t express in words. It had been like that from the beginning.

“Shall we go out before it gets colder?”

Lee Hae-sung stood up first, stroking Choi Hong-seo’s head as he gazed towards the stairs where Tiffany had disappeared.

Lee Hae-sung put a thick goose down jacket on Choi Hong-seo and also wrapped a scarf around his neck himself.

“Do I need a scarf too?”

“There’s quite a bit of wind. You’d better listen to me.”

It felt stuffy, but he obediently offered his neck as instructed.

“Hmm? What’s this?”

Lee Hae-sung, who was meticulously wrapping the scarf, paused and felt the area below Choi Hong-seo’s nape with his fingertips.

“Why… Is something wrong?”

“Let me see for a moment.”

He turned Choi Hong-seo halfway around, removed the scarf, and examined the spot he had just touched.

“A rash has appeared that wasn’t there even this morning. Did you get hurt without me knowing?”

“No. Nothing happened.”

“This doesn’t look like a simple scratch… It looks like a rash… Does it itch?”

“No, not at all.”

Unlike Lee Hae-sung, whose brow furrowed and expression turned serious, Choi Hong-seo remained calm. He reached out and touched it; he felt a rough, circular patch below his nape.

“This won’t do. We need to see a doctor. Let’s go to the hospital first.”

“It’s the weekend today.”

“We can ask them to come out.”

“It doesn’t itch, and it’s not a severe symptom, so it’s fine.”

“You shouldn’t take skin conditions lightly. Once they start, they can be persistently troublesome.”

“I’ll go to the hospital on Monday. It’s not serious enough to ask them to come out on a holiday.”

“……”

“Hmm?”

He asked again, taking Lee Hae-sung’s reluctant arm, trying to get a promise. Hmm… His expression softened as if he had no choice. However, he picked up his phone and said there was no room for negotiation.

“Instead, we’ll get a diagnosis through photos.”

Two thousand square meters: Approximately 600 pyeong.