By Zephyria The sound of me swallowing dryly seemed to echo right by my ear. It was a chilling sound, like the click of a pistol’s safety being released.
Song Hyun-soo, having placed the t-shirt on the floor, picked up the perfume bottle from earlier and stared intently at the label.
‘This, is for me?’
‘I thought you liked it.’
The conversation with Jung Ji-in while exchanging this perfume was vivid.
‘It’s expensive.’
‘I got another one as a gift.’
‘A gift… can I really have it?’
‘The person who gave it as a gift doesn’t mind. They’re not the type to care about that.’
‘You know I don’t refuse things like this, right? Don’t regret it, Hyung. I’m really taking it?’
‘Yeah, you punk.’
Jung Ji-in’s smile, as he watched Song Hyun-soo’s grin stretch from ear to ear, was also clear.
The box in Yoon Joo-ho’s dress room drawer.
I hadn’t thought the brand or product of the perfume and t-shirt stored inside were important. I was only curious if they were lingering regrets Yoon Joo-ho couldn’t let go of, or if he couldn’t discard them because ‘that person’ was still precious to him.
What kind of perfume it was, what kind of t-shirt it was. I hadn’t even realized I remembered it.
But now, I remembered the shape of the perfume and t-shirt from that box clearly. As vivid as looking at a photograph.
Still holding the perfume, I looked again at the t-shirt placed on the floor.
This was a different t-shirt from the one in Yoon Joo-ho’s box. But this t-shirt, given to Song Hyun-soo by Jung Ji-in, became a trigger for memories.
The designer t-shirt in Yoon Joo-ho’s box. Where else had I seen it? It pulled out buried memories.
‘Huh? Hyung, did you buy this too? These days, there isn’t a celebrity who doesn’t post a verification shot wearing this.’
‘No, someone gave it to me.’
‘Who just gives something like this? Ah, Yoon Joo-ho?’
‘Yeah.’
Yoon Joo-ho often called Jung Ji-in out after long overseas business trips. On those days, Jung Ji-in would come home with shopping bags, saying Yoon Joo-ho had given them to him. Song Hyun-soo used to envy that.
‘But Hyung, you just wear this at home?’
‘It’s a bit… not my style. So I wear it at home.’
Although it was fundamentally black, the print was quite flashy, making it far from Jung Ji-in’s taste. Jung Ji-in wore t-shirts worth hundreds of thousands of won, which others proudly displayed on social media, as loungewear at home.
It was the very t-shirt that had been in Yoon Joo-ho’s box.
The ‘person who gave the gift,’ whose words I had barely paid attention to at the time.
Yes, it could have been Yoon Joo-ho. So what? Is it strange for friends to exchange gifts? I’ve seen it myself; Yoon Joo-ho is surprisingly generous to people around him.
And besides, how many people in the world own that perfume or t-shirt?
“…”
Song Hyun-soo let out a few hollow laughs. Even making a sound on purpose.
Like someone desperately trying to deny the truth presented before him and dismiss it as his own delusion.
Ah, Song Hyun-soo, you have too much imagination. A senior and Ji-in Hyung? Even so, that’s not possible, is it? First of all, the senior never dates men… or so I thought…
As he chuckled and folded the t-shirt, Song Hyun-soo’s hands slowed.
“During the time we were together, I couldn’t even think about love or anything like that.”
Yoon Joo-ho had only said he met ‘that person,’ not that they were officially dating.
What if they just weren’t dating?
What else did he say?
I rummaged through my memories. If memories were actual drawers or rooms, they would have been in disarray, as if robbed.
“You only need to sleep with top stars. People with a lot to lose keep their secrets.”
Yoon Joo-ho had clearly said he only slept with top stars. Before Jung Ji-in left Korea, he had gained immense popularity with
However, there could be exceptions. Just as I slept with Yoon Joo-ho even though I wasn’t a top star.
I couldn’t guarantee that I was Yoon Joo-ho’s only exception.
Monroe, who had been playing around in the box, came closer to Song Hyun-soo. Perhaps my sitting still for too long seemed strange to him. His innocent green eyes looked up at Song Hyun-soo and rubbed against his knee.
What if ‘that person’ wasn’t a woman, but a man?
What if Yoon Joo-ho and Jung Ji-in weren’t friends who fought and cut ties, but had been sleeping partners from the start? And what if Ji-in Hyung was the one who ended the relationship first?
Yes… then everything makes sense. The reason for their fight, the reason they couldn’t reconcile, there’s no way he could explain it to me.
Song Hyun-soo unconsciously reached out and stroked Monroe. Rubbing his small head against Song Hyun-soo’s palm, the cat looked pleased.
No. It can’t be. No matter what, it can’t be.
He clearly said, ‘I don’t want it to involve someone I know.’ If he heard that, he couldn’t have kept quiet until now. From that point on, it would be intentional, a deliberate concealment.
I couldn’t continue packing my things anymore.
My mind was a complete mess. I couldn’t focus on anything.
Rattle. The phone placed beside me vibrated. As the screen lit up and I felt the tremor, Monroe immediately showed interest and pounced towards the phone. Holding him in one arm, I checked the phone. It was Yoon Joo-ho.
I didn’t have the courage to answer. Holding the trembling phone tightly in my hand, I just stared at the six consonants: G Y J H S B. The phone, which had been ringing persistently, stopped, and a message arrived shortly after.
《Showering? Asleep? I’m leaving now. It says it’ll take 2 hours and 40 minutes. What should I buy? Is there anything you want to eat?》
Crown Prince, that’s not what’s important right now.
No, Senior? Am I overthinking things again?
â– â– â–
The sound of the door lock being released was heard, and the door opened.
A voice, welcoming and doting on Monroe who had come to greet him at the door.
“Yoon Marilyn, you came to the door? You’ve grown so much. But where’s your little dad? What’s he doing that you came out alone? Huh?”
The sound of slippers shuffling as he walked down the hallway.
As the familiar sound grew closer, Song Hyun-soo felt his body tighten. He picked up the mug in front of him and forced himself to swallow coffee that tasted even more bitter than usual. The coffee, which was scalding hot enough to burn his tongue at first, had cooled down while Song Hyun-soo was lost in thought.
“What? You were here? I didn’t see you come out, so I thought you were asleep.”
I was afraid to even look at him, so I turned my head very slowly. What if I hated what I saw?
But fortunately, or unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Yoon Joo-ho, walking while hugging Monroe, still stirred my heart and made me weak.
“…”
He was wearing ‘that hat.’
The bucket hat Song Hyun-soo had gifted him for his last birthday.
I wanted to give him a good gift, but lacking both money and sense… I had asked Jung Ji-in to pick it out.
Should I just let it go? It might just be my imagination.
If I cover it up and move on, I can stay by his side like I have until now. Without needing to fight. Peacefully.
Is the truth that important? Does the fact that he lied to me matter that much?
“Is the packing done?”
Song Hyun-soo shook his head.
Yoon Joo-ho, who had come right up behind the chair, brushed Song Hyun-soo’s bangs back from his forehead. A skinship Song Hyun-soo liked.
“I’ll help you, so let’s finish it together tomorrow. Did you eat anything?”
This time too, Song Hyun-soo shook his head. Yoon Joo-ho, looking down from above, chuckled briefly, released his hair, and walked into the kitchen. The sound of him washing his hands at the sink could be heard.
“If you didn’t eat anything, you should have asked me to buy something. You didn’t reply. Were you asleep?”
“I’m not hungry.”
By this point, Yoon Joo-ho couldn’t help but notice the unusual atmosphere. I felt his gaze on my back, but Song Hyun-soo just sat there, staring at the mug.
“What were you doing sitting there?”
“Thinking.”
“Thinking?”
“But my brain is slow, so I can’t find an answer.”
I had thought and thought for a full three hours.
Should I ask him directly? Or should I conclude that I was just having delusions and let it go as if it never happened? But I had to face him without reaching any conclusion.
And as I had to face him at this moment, I realized.
To treat him the same as always, as if nothing happened, to pretend not to know even after finding out, is not something someone like me can do.
“What is it. Is something wrong?”
“I’m not your type, am I?”
“Are we back to that again?”
Yoon Joo-ho, who had approached the dining table, sat down at an angle and rested his arm on the back of the chair.
“Then why did you sleep with me at first?”
“…”
“Was I a special treat? Or a snack? Like someone who stocks up on premium Korean beef in the fridge but occasionally craves tteokbokki?”
“You’re having a boring thought.”
Taking off his hat and tossing it onto the adjacent chair, Yoon Joo-ho ran a hand through his hair and muttered in a cold voice. Nyang. Monroe slipped under the table and rubbed against Song Hyun-soo’s calf.
“You said you liked me enough to overcome my type. Where did that confidence go?”
That confidence is about to be shattered.
On the table, Song Hyun-soo clenched his empty fist. With his other hand, he held the elbow of the arm with the clenched fist.
“He must have been beautiful, right?”
“…”
“You said he spoke several languages.”
“…”
“He was someone who knew to order white wine with fish dishes.”
These were things Yoon Joo-ho had told me himself in response to my questions. I forced my head, which refused to turn, to move and looked at him. As if sensing something, Yoon Joo-ho’s eyes were also calmly fixed on Song Hyun-soo.
Song Hyun-soo’s dry lips parted.
“…Like Ji-in Hyung?”
“…”
The moment I saw his expression, I knew. I didn’t need to hear the answer.
It’s real. It was real.