2 – Chapter 2

Hae-won placed his hand over the back of the hand stroking his forehead and pulled it down. The man’s pupils quivered. Neat fingers gently traced Hae-won’s face, gliding over his eyebrows and eyelids, his cheeks and jaw.

“You don’t have a fever.”

“I do. Check again.”

Hae-won pushed the man’s hand inside his open shirt. The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as if in difficulty. Having reached the limit of his patience, the man wrapped his arms around Hae-won and buried his lips in the nape of his neck. His hands hastily undid Hae-won’s waistband and drew out his half-erect penis as if soothing a child. The hands of a performer, skilled at handling instruments and producing sound, touched him below, and Hae-won rested his cheek against the man’s shoulder, watching his absorbed profile.

“Ahh…”

As a moan escaped, the man glanced up and met his eyes. Hae-won parted his lips slightly as if to kiss him, exhaling warm breath close by. When pressure was applied by the man’s hand, Hae-won bit his lip to suppress a moan. He urgently clung to the man’s arm. His chin tilted upward.

“Ah, ahh…!”

His waist jerked as if snapping. Traces of ejaculation flowed down the man’s hand with a honey-like viscosity. Hae-won gazed down at his wet lower body with a dazed expression. Strength drained from his fingertips, and his entire body sank limply. He rubbed his forehead against the man’s shoulder.

The man diligently and silently wiped the pale fluid from his hand with a tissue and tidied Hae-won below as well. He pulled up Hae-won’s drawers to conceal the wilted penis and zipped up his pants. Only after the man had finished cleaning up did Hae-won open his eyes.

Han-gyeong Symphony’s First Violin Principal was also Hae-won’s Seonbae. He pulled out two wet wipes and cleaned his hands.

Senior Choi’s lips were tightly sealed, and he showed no intention of opening them anytime soon. Hae-won adjusted his pants and sat on the narrow practice room chair. Breaking the silence, he spoke.

“I didn’t leave because I disliked the conductor. I just quit because I didn’t want to do it anymore.”

The purpose of meeting him today emerged only after thirty minutes had passed. Since everyone had left for an invited performance in Japan and no one was around, Senior Choi had been the one to suggest meeting briefly in the concert hall’s string instrument practice room. Yet, he only stared at Hae-won, who had been summoned, with tightly pursed lips, looking displeased.

Hae-won sat in the chair like a scolded child, looking up at him, and lightly placed his own hand over the man’s neat hand. Immediately, the man’s eyebrows crumpled as if collapsing.

As if committing an immoral act, he breathed heavily without making loud noises, grabbed Hae-won’s cheek, and pressed his lips against his again.

In an era where sensation had slaughtered all intellectuals, humanism—which claimed that lack of restraint was beautiful—was becoming another name for humanity’s upright and commendable desires. And Senior Choi, who could be called a model of righteous living, wanting to live as the last remaining intellectual of this era, touched and explored Hae-won’s body, then recoiled in horror from his own hands, steeped in sensation, as if touching the empty shed skin of some reptile, and frantically scrubbed them with something like wet wipes.

Hae-won also wiped the man’s semen from his hands with a wet wipe and watched him diligently cleaning his own hands. The man’s efforts to not stray from the average and his busyness to alleviate his guilt suddenly seemed pitiable.

Sometimes, his sensitive reactions were also cute. Unaware that he was being teased, he busily moved today as well, trying to shake off his guilt.

Hae-won walked behind him. Burying his face in Senior Choi’s back, he wrapped both arms around his waist.

A stable job, stable income, stable family.

The spine of a man with a stable exterior, worthy of being called a specimen, stiffened rigidly.

“I heard you haven’t been working on anything since then.”

He was referring to the album work with Director Kim Jae-min. Hae-won hadn’t done anything noticeable since then. Thanks to the card his father had given him, he didn’t need to work hard.

Senior Choi had inadvertently revealed with his own words that he lived with one corner of his attention open to Hae-won while pretending not to care.

Hae-won didn’t respond. He buried his face in the man’s shoulder and remained still. The man’s breathing gradually calmed. He hurriedly made an excuse.

“Joo-hee said so. That you haven’t been working since then.”

Joo-hee was Hae-won’s university classmate, a member of this symphony, his Hubae, and his wife.

The sight of him dragging his wife’s name into the conversation to excuse himself from caring about Hae-won couldn’t help but be endearing. Hae-won finally chuckled softly.

“That’s not what I meant, I meant…”

“I’m managing fine on my own. Don’t worry about that.”

It meant not to worry about him, but to cut off the concern, yet he misinterpreted and accepted it.

“If you rest too long, your hands stiffen and you lose sensation.”

Practicing even when he didn’t want to had become a habit, part of Hae-won’s daily routine. The only things he avoided because he disliked them were those requiring interaction with others. For some reason, he never neglected the violin. He still took lessons twice a week and practiced daily. The man didn’t know that Hae-won still received lessons from Professor Jang.

Senior Choi believed Hae-won had left the symphony because of his affair with him. Hae-won let him misunderstand as he pleased. It was amusing to watch the man, who believed he was the cause, desperately making excuses for himself. Watching him, one could understand where and how pity for humanity arose.

“The second violin member is going to Germany to study soon. We plan to hold an open audition, but if it’s you… if you just say okay, I can strongly push for you.”

“…Will that be alright, Seonbae?”

Hae-won asked if it would be okay for him to flaunt himself in front of him, in front of Joo-hee. The man believed Hae-won had left the symphony because of him.

Hae-won was an illicit combination with Senior Choi, caught between him and his peers. Even if it wasn’t a suggestion made just to alleviate guilt, Hae-won had not the slightest desire to return to the symphony. Organization and discipline didn’t suit him. Hae-won, relying on his father’s wealth, didn’t need to endure such things.

Senior Choi’s eyelids twitched. His pupils lost their way, wandering over the table cluttered with scattered sheet music.

The man’s pitifulness and shabbiness were irritating to the nerves. Contrary to what he thought, Senior Choi and Hae-won were by no means in a serious relationship, and Hae-won had no intention of ever being so.

It might sound harsh, but he was like a TV channel Hae-won occasionally flipped to when truly bored in his dull daily life. Merely an outlet for excretion used when he didn’t feel like masturbating. Something he’d watch for about five minutes before finally frowning and switching to another channel—just that level of utility.

“Don’t mind me. I won’t mind you either.”

“But I mind you, Seonbae.”

“Hae-won.”

A wicked beast living with suppressed sexual desire sharp as a knife in its belly. The gap between beast and human squirmed within his abdomen.

“I appreciate the offer. I’ll think about it.”

“Opportunities like this are rare. Everyone struggles and endures, trying not to leave, but what kind of person are you…?”

A symphony member position held no appeal for Hae-won. The salary wasn’t high, and the benefits weren’t great. Aside from the advantage of being able to selectively accept requests like collaborations with famous performers, private lessons, or tutoring entrance exam students, being a symphony member had little merit.

The utterly ordinary worries and troubles of an ordinary person, his world smelling of humanity, sometimes felt unfamiliar. Hae-won had never even seriously contemplated the methods and tools for sustaining a livelihood.

Hae-won knew well that this wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted wasn’t this.

Something more…, more stimulating…

“Hmm?”

Lost in his own thoughts, Hae-won gazed anew at Senior Choi, who was seeking an answer.

“Ah, yes. I’ll contact you. I have somewhere to go today.”

“Alright. It’s cold out, dress warmly. It’s chilly even though it’s early winter.”

Hae-won put on the coat he had taken off. The man approached. In Senior Choi’s hand was what appeared to be his own scarf. As Hae-won buttoned his coat, Senior Choi wrapped his scarf around Hae-won’s neck. A clean scent wafted strongly. Hae-won lightly kissed the man’s lips as he adjusted the scarf knot. Lowering his gaze, the man’s stiffened cheeks soon flushed red.

“Thank you, Seonbae.”

“I’ll contact you soon. Soon.”

A shabby temptation that could never cross the line yet couldn’t let go, promising a next time. “Soon” and “contact” were words that only flowed from his lips, never once acted upon, and they both knew too well they never would be. He barely soothed his starved desires by tasting without swallowing.

Giving him a final glance as farewell, Hae-won left the practice room.

With the entire symphony having gone abroad except for a few, the hallway was desolate. Stepping outside the building, he got into a taxi that happened to be approaching.

“To H Hospital’s funeral hall, please.”

Hae-won told the driver the destination and sank deeply into the back seat. He pulled up the scarf, covering half his face.

Tae-shin had died.

Hae-won received the call last night. He hadn’t even realized his phone battery had completely died. About a hundred missed calls were logged from numbers that hadn’t rung.

About ten of them were from Tae-shin. While checking the missed call list, the phone rang. It was Tae-shin’s number.

Hae-won answered indifferently. Assuming it would be another story about Tae-shin’s unrequited love for a straight man, certain it would be a tedious conversation, he frowned irritably.

The call wasn’t from Tae-shin but from his mother. Tae-shin’s mother burst into tears. On the night Hae-won hadn’t answered Tae-shin’s calls, around midnight, he had jumped from the rooftop of his own thirty-story apartment. It was a night when white snow had piled softly in the residential-complex artificial garden. On the white snow, his head shattered, and red blood spread.

He, who hadn’t been beautiful, who hadn’t sparked the slightest interest, was not so that night. The dark red blood spreading on the white snow was beautiful, and his grotesquely twisted body aroused everyone’s interest.

Tae-shin’s mother, a high school alumna who still kept in touch with Hae-won, knew him as Tae-shin’s close friend. The mother’s voice announcing her son’s death wasn’t grievous or sorrowful but a sound of a kind Hae-won had never heard before. It was collapsing with a desperation like a beast’s howl. Hae-won’s fingertips trembled faintly as he listened.

Hae-won swallowed dryly several times upon hearing the news of Tae-shin’s death. A slight dizziness washed over him.

That night, before jumping, Tae-shin had called Hae-won about ten times. Hae-won usually skipped about ten of his calls, answering only when the tediously ringing bell irritated him. But that day, he hadn’t even known Tae-shin had called.

Tae-shin had died.

It was the death of someone he had been relatively close to. It didn’t feel real. It was unfamiliar and strange. It wasn’t yet an age where people around him dying off felt natural. Tae-shin was too young. His young death was unexpected, and even to Hae-won, indifferent to most things, it was a shock.

After ending the call with Tae-shin’s mother, Hae-won sat dumbly on the sofa for a while, still holding his phone.

Tae-shin had been somewhat depressed but not to the extent of needing medication; rather, he had similarities with Hae-won, who, thanks to wealthy parents, didn’t need to struggle fiercely within the system. He was the type to live comfortably, carefree to the point of being far removed from a sense of reality. What troubled him was always unrequited love. And he was in the midst of a terrible one-sided love.

So, it was because of a man after all.

Upon reaching that thought, rather than sympathy for Tae-shin, a disgust indistinguishable from loathing arose.

In the end, that’s all it was.

He almost wished Tae-shin had committed suicide for some other reason. Even though he hadn’t answered his calls, he felt as if he were listening to Tae-shin’s laments, which held no curiosity. Even in death, he was bothering him.

Hae-won shook his head as if shaking off thoughts of Tae-shin, got up, and showered. Not answering the calls Tae-shin made on the day he jumped from the building seemed to have instilled a slight sense of guilt even in his dull and indifferent self. After finishing his shower, Hae-won picked up the vibrating phone on the table more briskly than usual.

It was Senior Choi.

The Seonbae who occasionally kissed, occasionally groped each other, ejaculated as if having a wet dream, and then silently married Hae-won’s school classmate.

The funeral hall was bustling. His parents were people considered remarkable in this land, those who had amassed immense wealth. It was inevitable that many mourners would come. Thanks to being born into a good family, Tae-shin’s final journey wasn’t shabby.

The suicide of the only son of such a family.

Rather than mourning his death, the funeral hall was abuzz with curiosity about the death. Mourners occasionally asked each other “why?” and, conscious of surrounding glances, soon quieted down, checking if their voices had drawn attention.

Amidst the lavishly displayed chrysanthemums was Tae-shin’s brightly smiling portrait.

Was it after three years? No, four years since he’d seen that face.

Ah, that’s how he looked.

A face with soft, unremarkable features, nothing distinctive or unusual, with kind eyes.

Tae-shin’s face felt new again. Hae-won had refused his pleas to meet and talk whenever he called, using the excuse of being busy despite having nothing to do. Since they moved in different circles, aside from accidentally running into each other at some concert hall or party, they hadn’t formally made plans to meet since high school graduation.

Yet, he had called Hae-won ten times. Even right before jumping.

After paying his condolences, Hae-won didn’t offer formal condolences but turned away after gazing at Tae-shin in the portrait for a long time outside the mourning area. Before his death, and even after, Hae-won had nothing to say to him and didn’t want to wish him peace.

“Huh? Aren’t you Moon Hae-won?”

“Ah.”

The person who grabbed Hae-won’s forearm as he turned, stopping him in his tracks, was Hae-won’s high school classmate. One whose name and face he barely remembered.

“Did you get contacted too? What happened, anyway? Weren’t you pretty close with Tae-shin Hyung?”

“I haven’t been in touch with him for a long time either. Seems they called everyone in the alumni association.”

“Probably so he wouldn’t be lonely on his journey. Leaving already? Let’s have a drink. It’s been a long time.”

“I have something to do, I need to go.”

“Come on, man. Sit down. It’s been almost ten years, aren’t you even glad to see me?”

He pulled Hae-won’s reluctant arm and led him to a low table covered with layers of translucent white plastic. The spot where someone had eaten and left was messy with spilled yukgaejang soup. A funeral hall employee approached and removed the top layer of plastic. The table became clean as if it had never been dirty. She set down wooden chopsticks and plastic spoons and asked,

“Shall I bring you a meal? We have yukgaejang and galbitang. Or would you like side dishes?”

“Have you eaten?”

“I’m fine. I had a late lunch.”

“One yukgaejang, side dishes, and two bottles of soju, please.”

Sitting cross-legged felt awkward. Hae-won couldn’t sit comfortably, uncomfortably fidgeting as he pulled his ankles close to his body.

“I heard you left Han-gyeong Symphony? Doing session work for classical albums, right? Going well?”

“……”

This person, whose name and face were vague, knew Hae-won’s recent circumstances accurately. Words circulate, keep circulating, spread, and flow even to those whose names and faces are vague. Tae-shin’s death would flow that way too. Flowing, pushed along, disappearing, colliding, and eventually forgotten. His death was worth only that much.

The reason Hae-won didn’t want to share a drink with his classmate wasn’t simply because he had no desire to mourn Tae-shin, but because he didn’t want to defend Tae-shin in any way or make some explanation on behalf of the deceased just because he was a bit closer to him than they were.

“How much do they pay for that? Album work. Do they give running guarantees or something? I heard it sold about a hundred thousand copies. They said it was a huge hit.”

“Well, enough to get by.”

“Man, you’re so indifferent. What’s the big secret?”

Just then, the food arrived. Yukgaejang in a disposable container, along with dried sliced meat, kimchi, rice cakes, and seasoned skate that looked like they had been made a while ago, all placed on plastic plates.

He shoveled rice into his beef soup and gulped it down like water. Hae-won grabbed his ankle as it tried to slip away and pulled it back close to his body. After noisily swallowing the mouthful he’d been chewing, the man opened his mouth. Grains of rice rolled around inside. Hae-won’s brow faintly furrowed—his appetite was already ruined as it was.

“Anyway, I heard Senior Lee Tae-shin killed himself? What was the reason? Well, artists do have complicated inner worlds, don’t they?”

“Maybe.”

“Did Tae-shin Seonbae do art? Painting?”

He majored in sculpture. He didn’t seem particularly talented, and he himself showed little interest. He had simply chosen sculpture to graduate from a decent high school and get into a decent university; it was likely his parents’ will, not his own. For someone with little academic ambition, art was the easiest path for wealthy families to get their children into good schools. For those without means, it was an earnest dream difficult to achieve; for those with means, it was merely a tool to appear cultured—exactly what he was doing.

“Sculpture.”

“Ah, right.”

If he had shown up at the funeral home, he must have been somewhat close to Tae-shin, yet this schoolmate didn’t even know what he majored in. Naturally, there were no memories worth reminiscing about with such a person regarding Tae-shin.

As Hae-won looked at him indifferently, the schoolmate, who had been glancing around, abruptly stood up. It was Tae-shin’s father. The schoolmate approached Tae-shin’s father, bowed his head respectfully, and shook his hand. His face, somber and sad to the point of seeming tragic, looked ready to shed thick tears at any moment.

“Sir, I’m at a loss for words. I’m Kim Jung-hwan, Tae-shin Seonbae’s junior from high school.”

“I see. Thank you for coming.”

“Not at all. I deeply regret being neglectful lately, using business as an excuse. I should have taken better care of him. It’s my fault. We said we’d meet soon after I finished this project, but to go so suddenly, like this……”

Perhaps overwhelmed by the grief of losing his son first, Tae-shin’s father patted Kim Jung-hwan’s tightly clasped hand without saying a word. Those who have sent off family members in this way must all feel the same. What flowed on his father’s face was not sorrow, but regret and remorse.

“Right, you said you’re in some distribution business?”

“Yes, it’s a distribution business related to the trending cross-border e-commerce, and we have quite a few members.”

“Let’s talk seriously about it later.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He gave Jung-hwan’s shoulder a few pats and walked away. Hae-won’s eyes met Tae-shin’s father’s, but he didn’t move from his seat. Tae-shin’s father stared at Hae-won’s face for a long moment, then turned his head as another mourner came to greet him.

Kim Jung-hwan sat down in front of Hae-won. He wore a smile on his face that seemed out of place for a mourner.

Tae-shin didn’t have a very good relationship with his father. According to Tae-shin, his father seemed to have sensed his orientation. Tae-shin always fell for straight men, and once he fell, he fell hard. Perhaps his relationship with the Kim Jung-hwan before him was entangled in that way. True to being a spoiled only son, Tae-shin was immature and naive. He didn’t realize he was being used and firmly believed that whoever it was also liked him.

Hae-won knew he was being used but didn’t actively advise against it. Well, he’s from a wealthy family, so what’s wrong with giving back to poor people in need? Thinking of it as helping the less fortunate, it was good for Tae-shin, good for the poor guy, and he considered being used as part of contributing to society. Thinking that way made him feel at ease.

“Aren’t you going to pay your respects?”

“Why should I? I’ve never even seen his face before. Today’s the first time.”

“Then why are you here? Didn’t you come to see the Chairman?”

“…….”

He looked at Hae-won with apparent puzzlement instead. It seemed Hae-won was the only one here deeply pondering Tae-shin’s death and reflecting on the very existence of Lee Tae-shin, and he intensely disliked Tae-shin for making him feel this way until the end.

Tae-shin was acting shabby in death as he had in life. Hae-won was utterly disgusted with such Tae-shin. Fortunately or unfortunately, this too was now the last. With Tae-shin’s death, his relationship with him was also over.

Kim Jung-hwan seemed determined to stay through the night, looking for another chance to speak with Tae-shin’s father. He seriously opened a bottle of soju. He poured soju into Hae-won’s empty glass and handed the bottle to Hae-won. It was a gesture for him to pour in return. Hae-won stood up.

“I have something to do, so I should get going.”

“Already? Once more people leave, the Chairman might have some free time.”

That wasn’t his purpose or intention for coming, but Kim Jung-hwan’s mind was completely occupied with his distribution business.

Hae-won got up without hesitation, picked up the coat he had taken off, and put it on. As Hae-won turned to leave, Kim Jung-hwan spoke.

“Let’s see each other sometimes.”

“Sure.”

Exchanging meaningless words they both knew wouldn’t be kept, Hae-won turned away after a brief nod, just as someone entered.

His tall stature and overwhelming presence, perhaps due to the black clothes, were so distinct that it made those about to exit through the entrance hesitate in their steps.

The man who had presented the condolence envelope entered and walked straight toward the mourning hall. Hae-won also stopped moving and gazed at the man’s face and profile. Hae-won’s eyes followed him. Hae-won stared at the man’s back.

Where have I seen him before.

Ah, he’s the man from the hotel swimming pool.

He had a swimsuit hooked on his fingertip, left behind in the shower booth.

Why is that person here……

Could he know Tae-shin’s father?

He probably doesn’t know Tae-shin. Lee Tae-shin, who was very particular about people’s looks, wouldn’t be the type to not mention a man who looked like that being around him.

Hae-won looked at him with curious eyes. He wasn’t a celebrity or a public figure, yet numerous eyes in the mourning hall were fixed on the man, and Hae-won was no exception.

The man seemed to know Tae-shin’s father, the Chairman of Gyeongwon Group. Watching his back as he bowed respectfully to Tae-shin’s father to offer condolences, Hae-won turned away.

∞ ∞ ∞

Hae-won left the funeral home and walked aimlessly. The funeral home and his officetel were only a ten-minute drive apart. He shoved both hands deep into his coat pockets. He wrapped the scarf Senior Choi had given him tightly around his neck, leaving only half his face exposed. He walked with his shoulders hunched, but it was insufficient to ward off the early winter chill seeping through his clothes.

Since it’s about a ten-minute drive, walking would take about thirty minutes, he thought, maybe I’ll walk, but Hae-won realized within less than five minutes that this casual decision was a mistake. Yet, a pointless stubbornness arose, and he ignored the empty taxis passing by and walked on silently.

Tae-shin’s death had long since evaporated and disappeared from his mind. By the time he arrived in front of the officetel, his chin was chattering. Hae-won got off the elevator and finally loosened the tightly wrapped scarf. He walked down the corridor toward his officetel door. Hae-won spotted someone and slowly stopped walking.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“…….”

“You weren’t answering at all, so I thought something had happened. As soon as I thought you might have had an accident, my heart dropped. No matter how much I tried to contact you, it wouldn’t connect, and this time I thought you might be dead.”

It wasn’t Hae-won who was dead, but someone else.

“How did you know I was here?”

It was Director Kim Jae-min, dressed more lightly than him at the onset of winter. The person who should have been in LA was in Korea, standing right in front of Hae-won’s officetel door.

“If you try to find out, there’s nothing you can’t. Did you turn your phone off completely?”

“No. I just put it away.”

“Let’s go in. It’s cold.”

He too seemed cold, shivering his shoulders. Holding the fully unwound scarf in his hand, Hae-won approached him. Kim Jae-min gestured toward the door lock with his chin, urging Hae-won, who was standing blankly, to open the door.

“It’s not proper to track down my home without even being told where it is.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“Who asked you to come?”

“I took a flight yesterday to see you and arrived in Korea this morning. Not from some province, but a full fourteen-hour flight across the Pacific. That’s not something to say to someone who crossed an ocean for you.”

“Just go. It’s late.”

Hae-won entered the door lock code and unlocked it. Leaving the bewildered man outside, he went in first and closed the door. He heard the sound of someone pacing restlessly in front, unable to contain their anger, which soon disappeared. Knocking on the door or ringing the bell would be beneath his pride.

He took off his clothes and tossed them carelessly onto the bed, then went into the bathroom. Standing under the shower’s hot stream, he thawed his frozen body. Bones and muscles stiffened by the cold melted and relaxed.

After showering, he picked up his shirt and pants and put them on. Drying his wet hair with a towel, he tore open an instant soup packet and put it in the microwave. He pressed the automatic cook button and turned around when the bell rang.

The person on the intercom screen, breaking Hae-won’s expectation, was Kim Jae-min. Standing before the tightly shut door begging to be let in was not his style, nor was it a method Hae-won liked. Hae-won had no strong feelings toward him before, but suddenly he genuinely disliked him.

“……Ha.”

A sigh escaped involuntarily. Hae-won didn’t respond to Kim Jae-min and stood in front of the microwave. The persistently ringing bell continued nonstop throughout the minute of automatic cooking.

It was an irritating and bothersome night in many ways. More irritating than the uninvited visit from Kim Jae-min was the suicidal Lee Tae-shin.

Hae-won put on headphones. He searched for and played the live performance of Lorin Maazel he had recently watched on DVD, turning the volume to maximum.

He took the steaming soup out of the microwave and sat at the table. As he listened to the New York Philharmonic playing Wagner under Lorin Maazel’s direction and pushed a few spoonfuls of soup into his hungry stomach, it happened.

Someone tapped Hae-won on the shoulder. Hae-won turned his head, startled.

Before his eyes stood the officetel security guard and Kim Jae-min. Kim Jae-min roughly pulled off the headphones covering Hae-won’s ears.

“I thought something had happened. Why isn’t the person who just entered responding? This time I really thought there’d been an accident.”

“What is this?”

Hae-won stood up with an unpleasant expression and looked at the security guard.

“What a relief. I thought something serious had happened. This gentleman said he’s the older brother of unit 2205. There’s no problem between you two, right? Then I’ll be going.”

Despite seeing Hae-won’s incredulous expression, the security guard pretended not to notice, turned, opened the officetel door, and left. Facing Hae-won’s bewildered face, Kim Jae-min shrugged his shoulders as if it were nothing. As if he had displayed amazing sense, or as if he’d made some funny joke, he acted completely natural.

Hae-won snatched the headphones from his hand. The faint sound of Wagner leaked from the headphones in his hand.

“What is this?”

“What else could I do when you wouldn’t show your face? Sending me away in this damn cold without even seeing me is unreasonable. Why are you being so prickly today?”

“Get out.”

“It’s quite spacious. Must have cost a bit to get something like this. With the level of work you do, you probably can’t even cover the rent here. Is your family well-off?”

He asked as if genuinely curious. It was a high-end officetel in central Seoul that Hae-won couldn’t afford with his work level and earnings. That’s why Hae-won didn’t understand. The security guards weren’t the type to just open the door if asked. He knew they weren’t just any random hires; even the guards were former security company personnel or had completed a certain level of relevant training.

“A hundred-dollar bill wouldn’t even make them budge, so I gave them ten. Even then, they seemed hesitant, so I emptied everything in my wallet. Cost about four thousand dollars. To open this door.”

“Get out.”

“I don’t remember doing anything wrong. What did I do wrong? Did I make some mistake?”

His face, which had been playful until now, turned serious. No, it hardened. His brow and lips stiffened rigidly. It was a more severe expression than when he was producing albums.

“I told you to leave. I said leave, and you break in without permission—how am I supposed to welcome you? I wasn’t happy to see you in the first place.”

“I called about a hundred times. With your personality, if you’d started disliking me, you would have said so, that you’re sick of me. I thought you weren’t answering because something happened, not because you disliked me. Once a bad thought enters, the imagination doesn’t stop. This is sincere. I came because I was worried.”

He calmly explained why he had no choice but to act this way, revealing appropriate emotion and affection toward Hae-won. It didn’t reach Hae-won’s ears. Before his eyes stood only a ruffian who had forcibly broken into his officetel. Hae-won swept back his wet hair with a tired hand and spoke.

“Okay. Now that you’ve confirmed I’m fine and well, please leave.”

“I think we’re close enough for this. Do you think it was easy for me to put you, with unverified career and skills, as the main solo on the album?”

“Ah.”

A stifled laugh and sigh burst out simultaneously. Seeing Hae-won’s sneer, his eyebrows twitched.

“You don’t seriously think I slept with you just to get that measly solo, do you?”

Hae-won asked, curious about his thoughts. He couldn’t answer. Kim Jae-min seemed to think that giving Hae-won the solo song on that album was, if not entirely, at least partly the reason Hae-won slept with him.

“What remarkable confidence.”

“What?”

Turning off the faintly sounding headphones and placing them on the table, Hae-won picked up the soup bowl he had been eating from. Ignoring Kim Jae-min, Hae-won sat on the sofa and continued eating the still-warm soup.

“I didn’t crave that album’s solo song enough to sell my body for it.”

It wasn’t an empty remark. In his life, Hae-won had never wanted anything so desperately that he needed to sell his body to achieve it. He had never experienced the desire of earnest longing.

He lives because he doesn’t die, he breathes because breath comes, he just happens to have learned music, and he does it because he doesn’t detest it enough to be sick of it. Since he’s doing it anyway, it’s good to do it well; working with a famous composer is better than working with just anybody; an ensemble is better than an orchestra, a soloist is better than an ensemble, so he did it. There was no value beyond that, no reason beyond that. He did it only because it was better than not doing it.

“Then, can I understand that to mean you slept with me just because you liked me?”

“Think whatever you want.”

“It wasn’t even a project you particularly wanted to do, but you spent the whole summer with me in a hotel. Which way am I supposed to misunderstand?”

“Don’t misunderstand in any way. Neither is the truth.”

“Then just for fun?”

“You’re only realizing that now?”

Hae-won finished the soup bowl cleanly and set it down on the table. He wished the other would just leave. The fatigue from walking thirty minutes in the cold, dissolved by the hot water, now weighed heavily on his entire body. He was too tired to even speak.

“Please leave. I’m tired.”

Hae-won sat on the sofa and brought over the folded blanket. Covering himself with the blanket from behind, he turned on the live DVD of Zubin Mehta’s conducting album. The only way to escape from things that bothered and disturbed him was to listen to music.

He looked back at the man who hadn’t moved, let alone left. He stared at him with a face that asked why he was still standing there.

“Get lost.”

“Keep acting like that. I’ll make sure you can’t survive in this industry.”

Hae-won didn’t even snort and turned up the volume with the remote. A laugh escaped him unbidden. Without holding back the escaped laugh, he laughed out loud. Hae-won soon cut off his laughter and spoke coldly to him.

“I’ve already lost interest in that industry. You’re the same.”

“…….”

He didn’t want to hear any explanation or excuse from him. The volume increased as much as he didn’t want to hear his voice. Zubin Mehta’s Beethoven swelled in the officetel living room. Hae-won lay down on the sofa, using one arm as a pillow.

The second movement of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 begins with a tranquil prelude that gradually swells like rolling snow, growing immense, and ultimately sweeps everything away like majestic crashing waves. All the filth and messiness, all the world’s narrow-minded things are swept away by the waves and disappear, leaving only what is whole and pure in their place.

Ah, if selling his body could make it possible, Hae-won wanted to hear Beethoven’s symphony conducted by Beethoven himself in a concert hall. If it were the Berlin Philharmonic performing under his baton, Hae-won could have sold his wretched body a hundred times over. Since Beethoven died centuries ago, Hae-won’s wish was impossible, and aside from that, there was nothing he wanted to achieve by selling his body—at least not for Hae-won now. As Symphony No. 7 transitioned to the third movement, Hae-won even forgot that Kim Jae-min hadn’t left and was still holding out.

Blocking Hae-won’s view as he stared intently, piercing through Zubin Mehta’s conducting, was Jae-min. He held a remote control in his hand. The music abruptly cut off. Hae-won just lifted his eyes to look up at him.

“What are you doing? Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I’m not interested in that scene or you anymore. Leave before I call the police.”

“Are you doing this on purpose? What, are you playing hard to get or something?”

Telling him to get lost, to disappear from sight, he was interpreting the insulting remarks however he pleased. It was a skill, if anything. Having never been treated this way by anyone before, Kim Jae-min didn’t even understand the nature of what was happening to him.

Hae-won searched for his phone. He picked up the phone he had tossed somewhere on the sofa.

“Hello? Police? Someone has trespassed illegally, please come right away. The address is—”

Before he could give the address, Jae-min’s hand snatched the phone from Hae-won’s grip. From the other end of the phone, a man’s voice could be heard saying, Hello, sir, please speak. Realizing Hae-won had actually called the police, Jae-min’s brow furrowed. Kim Jae-min put the phone to his ear and spoke in a brightened, persuasive tone.

“I’m sorry. My friend was playing a prank. Yes, no. Really, it’s nothing. Yes, I apologize.”

He hung up. He threw the phone out of Hae-won’s reach. Though not intended to provoke, Jae-min was provoked. He seemed furious to the point of his anger boiling over because Hae-won had reported him to the police. His face showed no gaps, no more capacity or heart to endure.

“Why are you really like this? We were good together. What on earth were you thinking, staying with me at the hotel? Did that time really mean nothing to you?”

“……”

Receiving no reaction, he let out a low sigh.

“Earlier, saying I entrusted you with that solo piece for that reason was a slip of the tongue. I’m sorry.”

“……”

Hae-won stood up from the sofa. This was the man who had flown across the Pacific overnight just to see him. He must have imagined Hae-won being surprised and delighted by his sudden appearance. Kim Jae-min might have expected Hae-won to throw himself into his arms, wrapping around his waist in overwhelming emotion.

If the place he had appeared without any mention hadn’t been right in front of Hae-won’s officetel door, Hae-won might have been happy to see him. Maybe not enthusiastically, but with wide eyes, surprised and asking what had happened. But now, he wasn’t in the mood for that. He wouldn’t have been happy to see anyone, didn’t want to meet anyone.

Before he died, Tae-shin had called Hae-won. He called over ten times. After calling that many times without Hae-won answering, he dropped his handful of flesh from the rooftop of the residential-commercial building. On that cold winter night, his body plummeted to the ground where fallen snow had piled softly, and he died.

It was a suicide jump. Lee Tae-shin had killed himself.

Hae-won thought he wasn’t that shocked. He thought he wasn’t that sad. Thinking that the bothersome calls wouldn’t come anymore, Tae-shin’s death felt somewhat liberating in a way. Though Kim Jung-hwan’s act of feigning mourning at Tae-shin’s funeral while eyeing Hae-won as lucrative prey was distasteful, it was bearable.

He should have answered that call. While Tae-shin made ten calls to him, straddling the rooftop fence, standing precariously, swaying in the rough headwind blowing from the high-rise, Hae-won ignored his calls, unaware. He didn’t even know the phone was ringing.

This sudden lethargy weighing down Hae-won’s limbs was guilt over Tae-shin’s suicide.

If he had answered that call then, maybe Tae-shin wouldn’t have died. Even if he had poured out whatever he wanted to say to Hae-won, who would have listened half-heartedly, even if he had heeded Hae-won’s irresponsible advice to not bother with such things, maybe Tae-shin wouldn’t have died.

Because of the guilt and helplessness starting from the crown of his head and pressing down on his entire body, Hae-won felt that even if his deceased biological mother appeared alive right now, he wouldn’t be happy to see her.

“Please, just go.”

Hae-won closed his eyes. Please, just disappear, he begged sincerely. He wanted to be alone now. He needed to be utterly alone.

“Is something wrong?”

“A friend died. He killed himself.”

Hae-won gripped his own hair as if tearing it out. Tae-shin’s death was painful. Agonizing. Hae-won’s face contorted painfully.

“…I see.”

“So please, please just get lost.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Hae-won.”

In response to the plea to leave, he took a step closer. He grabbed Hae-won’s helplessly standing shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. Patting his back comfortingly. The anger that had violently surged toward Hae-won, who had been unconditionally ignoring and rejecting him, had already subsided. His hand swept down Hae-won’s spine. Hae-won leaned his stiffened body against him.

He didn’t want to cry. He felt unbearably filthy. Why did he call me at that moment? Why did he call someone who rarely answers calls? He wanted to grab Tae-shin’s already prepared dead body and ask.

What the hell were you thinking?

Instead of mourning his death, Hae-won mingled his body with Kim Jae-min’s. Two naked bodies tangled on the sofa. Hae-won wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and pressed their lips together. More greedily than ever, more dirtily than ever, they entangled. He pushed Jae-min’s unprotected penis inside and jerked his hips vulgarly. Swallowing his raw release in gulps, he defiled himself. Crushed under his weight, Hae-won pleaded.

Break me, be rough with me, make me unable to think.

Kim Jae-min seemed inwardly flustered but did his best to be rough. Hae-won could feel him finding his own beast-like breathing unfamiliar. Hae-won spread his legs before him. His earlier desperate cries to leave, to get lost, now seemed meaningless as his legs easily parted.

The snow that had been falling when Tae-shin jumped from the building rooftop now swayed outside the window, descending to the ground.

∞ ∞ ∞

He didn’t know how many days had passed. Day and night had cycled several times. Just like at the hotel, Hae-won rolled around with Kim Jae-min in his officetel. It was a time when he newly realized nothing was as effective as sex for making him forget.

Maybe a few more days had passed after Tae-shin’s funeral. Jae-min’s toothbrush and razor were placed in the officetel bathroom. It was the first time someone else’s belongings, not his own, had been left in the officetel.

Hae-won had also neglected his violin practice. When he was awake, he mingled his body with Kim Jae-min. Ejaculating, Jae-min called Hae-won’s name pitifully several times.

It was a morning after spending several days eating, sleeping, and fucking. Kim Jae-min was deeply asleep, his arm lying across Hae-won’s bare chest with enough weight to be felt. Hae-won had woken up some time ago and had been lying listlessly, eyes open, staying still.

Sunlight sharply pierced through the split blackout curtains. He was hungry. Just as Hae-won pushed aside the arm pressing down on his chest and sat up, his phone rang.

He had never been one to pay attention to ringtones, but Hae-won found himself reacting sensitively to the sound without realizing it. It was a habit formed after Tae-shin’s death.

He quickly picked up the phone placed on the side table. It was a regular number with a Seoul area code. Kim Jae-min, lying beside him, frowned and tossed restlessly once due to Hae-won’s flustered movements. Hae-won answered the call.

“Hello.”

—Hello? Is this Moon Hae-won’s phone number?

“Yes, it is.”

—Are you Moon Hae-won himself?

“I am. Who is this?”

—Ah, this is Detective Hwang Eun-chan from the Gangnam Police Station. You know Lee Tae-shin, right?

“…Yes. What is this about?”

—You know Lee Tae-shin passed away recently, right? I heard you attended the funeral.

“I know. But what is this about?”

—You’ll need to come to the station briefly. We have some questions regarding Lee Tae-shin’s death. When would be a good time for you?

“Wasn’t Tae-shin’s death a suicide?”

—Just come in. We’ll discuss the details when you’re here. Is tomorrow okay?

“Okay. Then let’s meet tomorrow.”

Hae-won finalized the appointment with the police and hung up.

He wondered why a witness investigation was needed if it was a suicide. Lost in thought, Hae-won suspiciously called back the number that had just called. The voice of Detective Hwang Eun-chan, who he had just spoken with, came through.

“Hello, this is Moon Hae-won who just called.”

—Yes, go ahead.

“Would it be okay if I came today instead of tomorrow?”

—Today? Let me see… We have another investigation scheduled today, but yes, if you have time, come today. Just come to the Violent Crimes Division 2 team. When you arrive, say you’re here to see Detective Hwang Eun-chan.

“Understood.”

Even after hanging up, Hae-won lay on the bed for a long time. With an unresolved expression, Hae-won got up while Kim Jae-min remained deep in sleep. He was careful not to wake him. After showering, he quietly changed clothes.

Carrying his violin case and a bag with only the essentials, he opened the door. Before closing the door, Hae-won looked back. He could see the naked back of the man sleeping obliviously on the bed. Staring at him for a while, Hae-won silently closed the door.

Since it was always a congested area, the taxi took a long time to reach the police station despite the short distance. At the entrance, when he mentioned Detective Hwang Eun-chan from Violent Crimes Division 2, someone guided Hae-won there. Detective Hwang appeared to be around his age. He had a sturdy build and a gentle appearance.

“You came quickly? I thought you’d come in the afternoon.”

“My home is nearby. But why did you ask me to come?”

“Have a seat first.”

Detective Hwang pointed to an empty chair in front of his desk. He glanced at the violin case slung over Hae-won’s shoulder. Hae-won set the case down and sat in the chair.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Could you wait here for a moment? I’ll finish up what I was doing.”

“Take your time.”

Seeming not to have expected Hae-won to come so early, he was flustered.

After organizing his surroundings, Detective Hwang sat across the desk and shuffled through documents presumably related to Tae-shin. As he flipped through the papers, he habitually scratched one cheek with his hand.

“Your name is Moon Hae-won, correct? You were born in ‘XX. What is your current occupation?”

“I’m a violinist.”

“Ah, yes. You’re a performer, and you and Lee Tae-shin were high school classmates, right?”

“Yes. But what is this about? I understood Tae-shin’s death was a suicide.”

“There are some suspicious aspects about that.”

“Suspicious aspects? Do you mean it wasn’t suicide but murder?”

Hae-won’s eyes widened. His heartbeat gradually quickened. Detective Hwang shook his head.

“No, not that. It was suicide. But there are some things to investigate. On the day Lee Tae-shin died, he called you about ten times.”

“I had my phone off during practice. I couldn’t answer that day.”

“Did you usually talk with Lee Tae-shin often?”

Though unsure what the suspicious aspects were, he didn’t seem to be interrogating Hae-won. Tae-shin’s death indeed appeared to be suicide. The opportunity to lessen his guilt vanished. Hae-won felt somewhat sullen.

“Not often… occasionally.”

“Did you speak with him before he died? I mean, before he passed away?”

“I often keep my phone off because it disturbs my practice. Since last summer, or maybe autumn, when we briefly spoke, there hasn’t been any contact.”

Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember speaking with Tae-shin after he mentioned sleeping with the man he had a crush on. His voice, finally having embraced the one he loved, was full of excitement. It was the voice of someone in love. The vividly restored voice, saying that no matter what happened now, he had no regrets, his heart overflowing.

He loved that person so much, Tae-shin had said.

If he had achieved something, perhaps he wouldn’t have needed to make that choice. Though it was an incomprehensible death, it wasn’t as if he could know all of Tae-shin’s circumstances from sporadic calls. He could only think there must have been some other reason forcing that choice.

“That was quite a while ago. So you wouldn’t know how Lee Tae-shin had been doing lately?”

“No.”

Tae-shin gave small-scale private lessons to sculpture prep students in his studio. Reluctantly started because he didn’t want to go to his father’s company, being a tutor suited him. He wasn’t entirely without skill, having graduated from a decent university, so he never lacked students.

When a few works accumulated, he would rent a gallery for an exhibition. Though likely purchased under someone else’s name by parents wanting to boost their son’s confidence, Tae-shin’s objets d’art had sold for high prices. That incident spread his reputation as a promising new artist, and his works sold fairly well afterward, but the bottom soon fell out. Recently, he hadn’t even held exhibitions.

“Did he ever mention anyone famous by name?”

“…Famous people?”

“Politicians, entrepreneurs, etc.”

“I don’t recall anything like that.”

He wondered what they wanted to know by asking such questions. It seemed Tae-shin’s suicide wasn’t merely a pessimistic act of despair. Hae-won looked at him with questioning eyes.

“On the night Lee Tae-shin jumped from his home rooftop, he made many calls here and there. About ten to you, and also, ah, perhaps…”

Detective Hwang started to say something but abruptly stood up. His eyes looked as if he had seen the grim reaper. Hae-won turned his head following his gaze. Someone was approaching them.

It was the man he had seen at the hotel pool and at Tae-shin’s funeral.

“…”

Detective Hwang, extremely tense, bowed to him in greeting.

“Prosecutor, you’ve arrived. I apologize for making you come all the way here. The Chairman of Gyeongwon Group specifically requested our chief to investigate, so we had no choice but to proceed this way.”

“It’s fine. If it’s a necessary witness investigation, it must be conducted.”

A low voice spoke in a concise tone, neither adding nor omitting anything unnecessary. The man’s gaze met Hae-won’s, who was sitting in the chair looking up at him.

“…”

“…”

He stared intently at Hae-won’s face. Not a probing gaze trying to read thoughts, but a look trying to recall his face. The silence that followed was disheartening for Hae-won, who had immediately recognized where he had seen him and who he was upon seeing him.

Then his eyebrow twitched. He seemed to remember the hotel pool. At the funeral, only Hae-won had seen him; he hadn’t seen Hae-won.

His pupils slowly scanned Hae-won from head to toe and back up. They were eyes that choked one’s breath like hands squeezing a person’s neck. Hae-won recalled the image of him he had seen at the funeral.

“Ah, I’m sorry. Originally scheduled for tomorrow, but the date suddenly changed. This person’s investigation is almost finished. Moon Hae-won, you may go now. If we have further questions, we’ll call you.”

Detective Hwang gestured quickly for Hae-won to stand up, indicating he could leave now.

“I still haven’t heard what this is about. What exactly is suspicious about Tae-shin’s suicide?”

Hae-won remained seated as he asked Officer Hwang. Now it was his turn to question. Officer Hwang glanced awkwardly at the man. With his coat draped over one arm, the man waited silently. He wasn’t urging anyone, yet his mere presence exerted pressure.

“I’m also curious about that, so let’s both be questioned.”

It wasn’t a suggestion or persuasion, but an order. The man pulled an empty chair over beside Hae-won. He hung his coat over the back of the chair and sat down.

Hae-won glanced sideways at him sitting next to him. Their eyes met again. The man’s gaze, devoid of any hint, lingered on Hae-won’s face with an intense stare before shifting to Officer Hwang.

Officer Hwang cautiously sought the man’s permission.

“Is that still alright with you?”

“It’s fine.”

Without even asking Hae-won, whose opinion was definitely not ‘fine,’ they reached an agreement amongst themselves, and Officer Hwang sat down and began shuffling through documents.

“That day, Lee Tae-shin called Moon Hae-won about ten times, and the prosecutor… he called nearly twenty times. How do you know Lee Tae-shin?”

His attitude was completely different from when he questioned Hae-won. It was polite and cautious. The man, sitting with his legs crossed, moved his fingers resting on his knee. The rhythm was precise, like a metronome. They moved at a speed that neither quickened nor slowed.

Ten times to me, twenty times to this man.

He called this man twenty times?

Don’t tell me…

The man Tae-shin liked…

Hae-won’s heart sank.

He had been puzzled seeing him at Tae-shin’s funeral. He wondered if he was someone Tae-shin’s father knew. He thought, ‘Don’t tell me, don’t tell me.’

The person Tae-shin loved was standing right before Hae-won’s eyes.

He had inwardly mocked Tae-shin’s fanciful choice of words describing the man’s appearance, thinking Tae-shin was just blinded and saw everything as wonderful because he was infatuated. But Tae-shin’s description of the man before him was neither exaggerated nor fanciful; for Lee Tae-shin, it was a plain and concise expression.

Still, it seemed Tae-shin’s final unrequited love hadn’t been a failure. Hae-won remembered the calm sorrow etched on the man’s face at the funeral home. He thought that if Tae-shin had seen him paying his respects, he might not have regretted his death. After all, on his final journey, he had brought the man before him.

So it was this person.

The man Tae-shin had a crush on… was this person.

Tae-shin had never mentioned the man’s name, but Hae-won could have staked his life on the fact that the man Tae-shin had a crush on was this person sitting loosely beside him.

The man answered Officer Hwang’s question.

“We first met at some concert hall, and after that, he was my younger sister’s private tutor.”

A voice that subdued others softly without any need for intimidation.

Tae-shin had said his voice was wonderful. Tae-shin had said his eyelashes were incredibly long. His nose and lips, the man’s profile drawn as if by an artist, had a magnetism that drew people’s gazes.

Hae-won was staring blankly at him answering the detective when suddenly his eyes turned toward Hae-won. A subtle, almost smiling expression flickered. The natural exchange of glances naturally swept over Hae-won’s face before turning away.

Suddenly, he felt irritated. ‘Well? Is his face handsome enough to stare at blankly? Does he look that way to your eyes too, like he did to Lee Tae-shin?’ His eyes seemed to convey such words.

“Your younger sister?”

“Lee Tae-shin graduated from Hongik University’s Sculpture Department. I heard he did his own artistic work while also tutoring students preparing for entrance exams. So, after entrusting my sister to him, we ended up talking on the phone frequently.”

“Do you know about this?”

Officer Hwang asked Hae-won. Hae-won, thoroughly ignoring the man looking at him, said,

“I know he helped students with portfolio preparation while doing small-scale tutoring.”

“Prosecutor, you also couldn’t reach Lee Tae-shin that day, right?”

“I couldn’t answer. I was in a meeting.”

Just like me, he hadn’t answered Tae-shin’s call when Tae-shin jumped. When someone desperately needed someone, the most needed person hadn’t answered the phone. Thinking of the sense of loss the weak-hearted Tae-shin must have felt right before jumping, Hae-won’s brow furrowed involuntarily.

Officer Hwang asked the man a similar question he had asked Hae-won.

“By any chance, did you notice anything unusual about Lee Tae-shin recently? Like meeting someone with no connection…”

“Someone with no connection?”

“Like a famous person Lee Tae-shin wouldn’t know, for example, a politician or an entrepreneur…”

Officer Hwang trailed off. It was unclear whether he was intimidated before the man trying to grasp the intent of the question or whether he was obfuscating after asking a question he shouldn’t have. He had asked Hae-won a similar question. He spoke as if some celebrity was involved in Tae-shin’s death.

“I haven’t heard anything like that.”

At the man’s answer, Officer Hwang looked at Hae-won and said.

“Moon Hae-won, you may go now.”

“What did you mean by ‘suspicious’?”

“That’s part of a confidential investigation, so I can’t tell you. If anything else comes up that you’re curious about, I’ll contact you, so you can go now.”

His tone suggested he wanted to quickly get rid of him.

He had thought Tae-shin jumped because of his unrequited love for a man, despairing over an impossible relationship. But it meant there might be another reason for that death.

If he had answered the phone that day, he might have heard why Tae-shin wanted to jump. What right did he have now to add any opinion about Tae-shin’s death?

He was dead. He had vanished from this earth. Hae-won was not his friend or anything to him.

At the gesture telling him to go, Hae-won got up from his seat without any lingering attachment. He picked up the violin case he had placed on the floor, slung it over his shoulder, and turned to leave.

“Prosecutor, this must be difficult for you too. To have a connection with such a person, of all people…”

“No. It’s fine. If there’s anything I can help with, I’d like to help.”

As he walked away, their voices faded as if incinerated. Hae-won opened the glass door of the police station and went out.

He hadn’t known Tae-shin was tutoring the man’s younger sister. Since Tae-shin said he slept with him, they hadn’t spoken, so he had no way of knowing the details, nor did he want to know. Anyway, the fact that Tae-shin had jumped of his own accord remained unchanged, and that death was also unchangeable.

∞ ∞ ∞

Hae-won did not return to his officetel. He booked a room at a hotel in the city center. Kim Jae-min called, but he didn’t answer. He wouldn’t answer in the future either, and he didn’t want to see him again.

He called the real estate agency and put the officetel up for sale. He planned to stay at the hotel for the time being while looking for another place. The calls from Kim Jae-min gradually decreased in frequency and soon stopped. He received a text saying he had business and couldn’t stay any longer, that he was returning to the US.

He asked one last time if this was how it ended, with him boringly begging for forgiveness, saying he was sorry, he was wrong, without even knowing what he did wrong. Hae-won gave no answer.

Even after he said he was leaving for the US, Hae-won did not return to the officetel. Staying at the hotel was more comfortable. He paid for two weeks’ accommodation. When he handed over his card after lunch at the hotel restaurant, the staff said the card was suspended, and without asking twice, Hae-won paid in cash. It was clear his father had suspended the card.

Suppressing his anger, Hae-won called his father.

—Our son, who only calls at times like this, truly a filial son.

“Did you block the card? It’s not working.”

—Why are you swiping hundreds of thousands at a hotel when you have a perfectly good house? Didn’t you know texts go straight to your stepmother every time you swipe?

“Texts go to Stepmother every time I swipe the card?”

—Three hundred at the department store a few days ago, seven hundred at the hotel today, isn’t a million won a month too much? That’s what Hae-jeong’s mother said. No matter how you think about it, a million won a month is too much. You’re already how old? Earn your own money and spend it. Hae-jeong’s mother says that’s how you become a proper person. Your father thinks so too. Your bad habits have to stop.

“……”

The winter clothes he bought at the department store because he had none were the root of the trouble. Hae-won didn’t retort and bit his lip hard.

—If you have nowhere to go, come home. Don’t waste money at a hotel.

“Are you going to tell me about the new life you set up in the US?”

—Don’t even think about threatening me with that. Hae-jeong’s mother has figured it all out and is crying and making a scene in front of the child, what am I supposed to do? I’ve decided to hand over financial control to your stepmother for the time being. Of course, it’s just for show, but anyway, my card also sends texts to that woman now.

“What?”

—Hey, you! Don’t waste money on useless things and come home!

“I’m coming to the company now, so give me a new card. One that doesn’t send texts to Stepmother, no, one that doesn’t send texts to anyone, one that works well and has no limit. I’m coming.”

Hae-won roughly ended the call. He glared at his phone as if glaring at his father.

He headed to his father’s company. It was the first time he had been to his father’s company since becoming an adult. He couldn’t quite remember where it was, and only after searching online could he give the taxi driver the correct address.

He passed through the building entrance safely, lost in the crowd, but got stopped at the secretarial office. When asked who he was by the secretary, he answered that he was the son, and she scrutinized him from head to toe with undisguised interest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. This way.”

She knocked on the president’s office door and opened it. Hae-won entered, still carrying his violin case. His father was practicing his golf swing on an indoor golf mat.

“Mr. President, your son is here.”

“Oh? You came? Come in, come in.”

Without even looking at Hae-won, he carefully swung the club, aiming to get the golf ball into the small hole.

“What kind of tea shall I bring?”

“It’s fine. I’ll be leaving soon.”

“Then.”

The woman bowed her head and left the office. Hae-won plopped down on the sofa.

“Give me the card. Or issue me a new one. One Stepmother doesn’t need to know about.”

“Did you put the house up for sale?”

“There’s absolutely no such thing as privacy in this family. How did you know about that too?”

“You don’t know I put a mortgage on that officetel?”

“You said it was mine. Why would you put a mortgage on it?”

“To foreclose if you don’t listen.”

“I put it up. Everyone and their dog was coming and going.”

“How are you going to move after tearing out all the soundproofing equipment? Just live there. That equipment alone costs a hundred million, a hundred million. A hundred million isn’t some dog’s name, you know? Your father can’t make that much money.”

“I already put it up. Just give me the card. I need to pay for soundproofing in the new place too.”

“Oh my.”

Perhaps his swing went wrong, the golf ball bounced off in the wrong direction and rolled to Hae-won’s feet. Hae-won picked up the white ball like a hostage and looked at his father.

“You damn kid. Damn brat who only spends money. Do you think a card is some kind of money tree? That’s all debt you have to pay back too.”

“Should I call Stepmother? You said Father’s US branch is in San Francisco, right? Of course, the new household must be set up in San Francisco too.”

“How did you know that?!”

As Hae-won took his phone out of his pocket, his father jumped up in surprise.

“Father, with your personality that hates hassle, you wouldn’t have gone far. An employee working at the US branch? Probably not Korean. Japanese? Chinese?”

“Wow, how did you know that? You should lay out a mat.”

“Father doesn’t like Western women, you know. Says their breasts are big.”

“Don’t even say it. Their tits are as big as my face. How disgusting.”

Hae-won grimaced unpleasantly at his father’s vulgar choice of words.

“Give me one Stepmother doesn’t know about.”

“She’s a twenty-two-year-old Chinese girl, used to work as a waitress at a Chinese restaurant. Slim, and her limbs are so long, if you dress her in a cheongsam, she’d put Maggie Cheung to shame. Ah, I miss our Gao Ling.”

Not knowing who Maggie Cheung was and having no interest, Hae-won sharply urged his father, who had a distant look as if picturing something.

“I said give me the card.”

“You can’t sell the officetel. Attorney Park said it’ll double in value within three years. I’m keeping it for now.”

Seeing him, who owned dozens of properties, paying attention to that measly officetel and even meddling in whether to sell it now or not, Hae-won thought his father would never go bankrupt. It was because he was so diligent that he could have affairs and set up multiple households. Seeing him meticulously managing his assets, he seemed to understand the eccentricity of why he worked so hard at things he shouldn’t do even out of laziness.

“It’s mine, so I’ll handle it. Once you gave it, stop interfering. Don’t meddle crudely.”

“From now on, nothing in our house is yours.”

“What are you talking about?”

Hae-won bristled and looked at his father. Picking up the golf ball that had rolled to his feet, his father pretended nonchalance and cleared his throat. He carefully aimed to get the white ball into the narrow hole, assuming his stance.

“The officetel is in my name, it’s mine.”

“I’m going to change it to Hae-jeong’s name.”

“…What did you say?”

“Your stepmother made such a fuss there was nothing to be done, so I said I’d change it to Hae-jeong’s name, and only then did she calm down.”

“You don’t just have one or two, you have dozens! Why give away mine?!”

Hae-won sprang to his feet.

“She insisted on having yours. Otherwise, she said she wouldn’t live, that she’d take Hae-jeong and hide somewhere I couldn’t find them, so what could I do? You and Hae-jeong are my only children, but you’re already a child I’ve let go, and I have to live to see Hae-jeong grow up in my old age. A woman’s tantrums are only once or twice. No matter how pretty Gao Ling is, it takes money and energy, and I can’t do it anymore. I’m old too, you know.”

“……”

He was doing it on purpose. Hae-won had insulted his stepmother not long ago.

「You also set up a household with Father while my mother was alive and came this far. What’s the big deal now.」

Hae-won had insulted his stepmother with those words. She had insulted Hae-won’s biological mother by setting up a separate household with his father and having a child while Hae-won’s mother was alive. She had no right to be upset over such words. She, and his father, had no right to get angry over such an insult.

His stepmother was trying to subdue Hae-won with money. She was making him, who despised her, despicable. Using his father’s financial power.

It was an unbearable sense of humiliation. Even if he had nowhere else to go, he didn’t want to go to the officetel being transferred to Hae-jeong’s name. Barely suppressing his rising anger, Hae-won said.

“Then give me something else. I need to live somewhere too.”

“Come home. Your stepmother promised me she’d treat you well. She said she wouldn’t provoke you, that she’d take good care of you. Hae-jeong likes you too, doesn’t she? It’s not like we’re all crammed into a single room; you can rent out this floor, so what’s so bad about that?”

He spoke as if he couldn’t understand at all. Hae-won clenched his fist. Insensitivity had its limits. His father acted as if he had completely forgotten what he had done to Hae-won’s biological mother.

“You want me to face that woman Father had an affair with while Mother was alive every morning over meals? How did Mother die, have you forgotten that? What kind of idiot forgets that. You forget it.”

“…You brat.”

His father’s face hardened, no longer joking. Hae-won gritted his teeth and got up from the sofa. Leaving behind his father shouting something, he slammed the office door shut and left. The secretary, startled by the noise, looked at him with rabbit-like eyes. He passed the secretary, who stood up and bowed respectfully, and stood in front of the elevator. Hae-won’s tightly clenched fist was trembling.

Hae-won’s biological mother was a beautiful woman. She met his father while she was a music college student majoring in piano. His father said he fell in love at first sight with his mother playing piano at an upscale restaurant. His father went to the restaurant where his mother worked part-time every day and cut steak every day.

His mother and father dated. When she became pregnant with Hae-won, his mother quit her studies. When she was carrying him, his mother played the piano often, she said. She wanted to let him hear many beautiful things. She played many pieces by Elgar and Schumann that sang of love. Schumann loved his wife Clara all his life, and all the pieces he wrote were love confessions to Clara.

For a while, they were happy. His father’s business flourished day by day, and his mother was the elegant and refined mistress of a large house.

Having a happy family did nothing to stop Father’s philandering. He was no Schumann. He was a rotten-brained bastard. Father fooled around constantly.

One day, after silently enduring Father’s affairs, Mother left the house without a word. It was when Hae-won had entered the arts school and was seriously learning the violin. He was fifteen.

His biological mother left without a trace or even a letter. Mother took nothing Father had given her. Hae-won was the same. She left Father lightly, with nothing but herself.

Hae-won didn’t consider it abandonment. He would have done the same. Though abandoned by his biological mother, Hae-won respected and supported her decision to live her own life, untethered to Father.

Hae-won saw Mother again when he was about to graduate university and was looking into graduate programs at American music schools. Mother was in the hospital. Lung cancer. Father, knowing nothing, had set up a new life with another woman. When that woman gave birth, Mother’s condition had worsened to the point she had to be moved to the hospice ward.

The mother lying there waiting for death was unrecognizable from her former beauty. She was like a mummy in the process of decomposition, her vitality drained. Her skin was dry and flaky, like plastic wrap. Holding Mother’s hand, Hae-won could do nothing.

Mother, enduring the pain with narcotic painkillers, was barely conscious. Once her consciousness slipped away, it didn’t easily return. Unable to breathe on her own, Mother didn’t pass from the cancer itself, but choked to death on the secretions filling her airways.

From the time the chemotherapy made her lose weight and her hair fall out, Mother didn’t want Father to see her like that. Even though they informed Father that Mother was alive and dying of cancer, he didn’t visit her either.

Not because he disliked her, but because he was afraid. He wanted to keep only the memory of the Music College Student who played piano at the restaurant he liked and loved. Selfish and cowardly, he couldn’t face the sin he had committed.

That’s how Mother passed away. After sending Mother off, Hae-won abandoned his plans to study abroad. He didn’t want to learn or master anything. He quit everything—the graduate school he was preparing for, the competitions. To be precise, he grew to hate living with effort. Though he continued playing the violin at his professor’s persuasion, after Mother’s death, he withered away inside about everything.

That was why Hae-won couldn’t live with Father and his stepmother. Why he couldn’t become family with them. He couldn’t live with them until they realized the agony of choking to death on rising phlegm.

∞ ∞ ∞

He spent a few days in a hotel, a few days at the house of a man whose name he didn’t know. He never had things like savings accounts, deposits, or emergency funds to begin with. Like Father said, Hae-won only knew how to spend money; he didn’t know how to save or earn it. He had never felt the need to save.

After paying for four nights at the hotel with what little money he had, there wasn’t even a single ten-thousand-won bill left in his pocket. The violin case slung over his shoulder felt burdensome. If he sold it now, he could get a billion won, maybe even more if he did it well. He never dreamed the moment he’d have to sell the violin would come this quickly.

Hae-won didn’t answer calls from Father or his stepmother. Every time a call came from them, he wanted to throw his phone onto the street.

He headed to the officetel. It was his home, but now it had become Hae-jeong’s. Ironically, the disgust he felt towards Father or his stepmother didn’t extend to Hae-jeong. That child was an innocent being. Though the space that was once his had become his half-sister’s, he didn’t feel the intense resentment he expected. Probably because it was Hae-jeong.

If it had been in his stepmother’s or Father’s name, he would have smashed everything of value and wrecked the officetel. It was his own foolish fault for not knowing how to flatter or scratch where others itched.

He opened the door to the officetel where Kim Jae-min had last stayed. Hae-won froze on the spot. The scene he imagined—wrecking and destroying the officetel if it had reverted to his stepmother’s name—unfolded before his eyes.

“……You crazy bastard.”

He hadn’t thought Jae-min was that low, but the inside of the officetel was a complete mess. As if a thief had broken in, everything was in disarray, and the wardrobe and drawers were all left open—a perfect picture of chaos. For someone who had silently disappeared, it was an unexpectedly dirty act, something hard to imagine given his usually clean-cut personality.

Hae-won closed the door and went inside. He stepped into the living room with his shoes still on. It was such a mess he didn’t know where or how to start cleaning.

This was really the end. He decided to take comfort in the fact that it was over with him. That Kim Jae-min had done such a childish, dirty thing meant he had no intention of appearing before him again.

Hae-won sighed and picked up the clothes tangled at his feet. If Father or his stepmother saw the state of the officetel now, he could almost hear them cursing, saying he must have done it on purpose.

It was a place he had to leave anyway. He roughly tidied up, separating things to throw away. While he was in the middle of cleaning, the intercom rang. It was the security office.

“Yes.”

―Please come pick up a delivery for unit 2205. It was piled in a corner, so we missed it. You can come to the security office now.

“I don’t think I ordered anything. Is it really mine?”

―It’s a delivery for unit 2205. The name is……, Moon Hae-won? Aren’t you Moon Hae-won?

“That’s me. I’ll come get it.”

Having been away from home for so long, he must have ordered something and forgotten. Hae-won went down to the security office and absentmindedly took the package the guard handed him, then froze.

……The sender was Lee Tae-shin.

Hae-won took the package back to the officetel.

Tae-shin’s phone number, Tae-shin’s name. And the mixed-use building where Tae-shin lived alone was the return address. Opening the box, he found photos and a notebook. There were two photos of Tae-shin standing awkwardly smiling next to an object at an exhibition hall.

He flipped through the notebook. Sparse diary entries were written, and it seemed like an idea notebook with sketches of satirical images that came to mind at the time. To go so far as to send this to him at the very end, without even calling. Truly, it was a pitiful act fitting of Lee Tae-shin.

Even though Tae-shin was already dead, it was infuriating enough to make him want to scream that Tae-shin had sent such things to someone like him, who didn’t answer calls, didn’t even read his messages, and just deleted them all in bulk.

Everyone has sides they can show to friends but not to their parents, and he probably thought it was better to send it to him than let it fall into his parents’ hands. Rather than just throwing it away, what lingering attachment made him decide to jump and send this stuff?

Hae-won stared for a long time at Tae-shin’s foolish face smiling awkwardly in the photo.

“……Idiot.”

He didn’t want to see it. Hae-won roughly shoved Tae-shin’s photo between the notebook pages. He threw the notebook and photos into the box he’d piled up to discard.

Packing only the essentials filled two large suitcases for emigration. Hae-won headed to the house of the unknown man where he had stayed the past few days.

He was the man who had approached Hae-won when he was standing dazedly in front of the hotel, a penniless wretch instinctively realizing the moment had come to sell his instrument. The man had asked Hae-won if he had a light.

Hae-won didn’t smoke. Mother hated it. He wasn’t a filial son who blindly did everything Mother said, but he didn’t smoke.

He reminded the man that where they were standing was a non-smoking area and shook his head, saying he didn’t have a lighter or anything. Not teasing him, the man nonchalantly took a lighter from his own pocket. A cigarette was already between his lips. Lighting the lighter, setting the cigarette ablaze, and inhaling the smoke, the man stared intently at Hae-won, at Hae-won’s face.

Hae-won also gazed fixedly at him, who had asked to borrow a light despite having one. The man, sweetly sucking on the filter, exhaled white smoke. The cigarette smell wasn’t unpleasant.

The man asked who he was waiting for here. People standing dazedly in front of hotels usually had one purpose.

Most would be waiting for someone; there probably weren’t cases like him, with nowhere to go, just staying put. When Hae-won didn’t answer, the man laughed. He was dressed like a company employee who had just finished entertaining foreign buyers.

He was solidly built and tall. His fingers holding the cigarette were thick. He looked like he’d be good at judo. With eyes like someone seeing an abandoned puppy shivering unexpectedly in the cold on the street, he was itching to do something for Hae-won, who was just standing there.

He looked at the violin case slung over Hae-won’s shoulder and asked if it was a violin or a viola. Hae-won didn’t answer. He kept his gaze forward.

The man smoked the cigarette halfway, threw it on the ground, and crushed the butt out with his foot. This time, he asked Hae-won if he had eaten dinner.

Hae-won, who was hungry, shook his head no. A smile appeared on the man’s face. Hae-won didn’t understand why the fact that he was going hungry was funny, but he didn’t press him about why he was laughing. The man asked if he would have dinner with him.

Hae-won lowered his eyes to the ground. His feet inside the shoes he’d been standing in outside the hotel for a long time were freezing. It was cold. He didn’t want to leave Father and his stepmother, who had shown him this cold, untouched, but with no money or strength, he couldn’t do anything about it right away.

There wasn’t much Hae-won could do. Either kneel and apologize to his stepmother, or continue suffering from cold and hunger until he sold the violin for a pittance. All the while, his stepmother and Father were mocking him for not saving any money and spending it all recklessly.

Hae-won looked up at the man. His eyes, expecting an answer, sparkled. He said he’d buy him something delicious. Hae-won said he wanted to go to his place and have dinner. The man looked at Hae-won as if surprised, but his hesitation wasn’t long. He soon nodded.

He left Hae-won standing there and went to get his car. Hae-won got into his car without hesitation. For the time being, he wouldn’t have to suffer from the cold.

Hae-won stayed at the man’s house. The man cautiously asked if he had nowhere to go, and Hae-won said he had fought with his father and been kicked out. He asked if Hae-won was a student, and Hae-won said yes. Hae-won was twenty-eight.

He seemed to believe Hae-won. Upon hearing he’d been kicked out after fighting with his father, he only intensely pondered possible reasons for being kicked out by himself and didn’t ask for details. Kindly, he said Hae-won could stay at his place if he had nowhere to go.

Staying at his house, Hae-won kissed him a few times. He sat on the man’s lap and kissed him. The man didn’t demand much. His body was thick, which was nice. Though he was a company employee, his fingers were rough like those of a manual laborer at a construction site. Not using lotion or cream, his skin was dry and coarse. When he touched Hae-won’s body, it felt like being scraped by sandpaper. Hae-won didn’t know his name, and he didn’t ask Hae-won’s name either.

“Is this all?”

The man, who had let Hae-won stay for days without even knowing his name, asked.

“There’s more, but I just threw it away.”

He brought the suitcases into his living room. He moved them to the empty room where Hae-won was staying. As Hae-won opened the suitcases and took out only what he needed, the man approached. His two arms came from behind and wrapped around Hae-won’s waist. He buried his face in Hae-won’s neck and breathily inhaled his scent. That spot cooled with the inhalation.

“Did you practice violin yesterday?”

“If I don’t practice, my hands get stiff.”

“I got a call from the security office. Seems someone complained about the intercom being noisy.”

“…….”

In this shitty apartment, he couldn’t even play as he wished. In a place like this, he couldn’t do any of the things he used to enjoy. Hae-won didn’t reply and took out clothes to change into.

“Your name……, what’s your name?”

One hand wrapped around his waist touched Hae-won’s flat stomach. It didn’t venture further, just playfully caressed his stomach. His hand, wanting to slip under the clothes and touch his bare chest, concealed its impatience and tightened around Hae-won’s innocent waist.

As Hae-won let his hand roam freely without responding and organized his things, his phone rang. Hae-won slipped out of his arms and answered the call.

“Yes.”

―Hae-won. It’s me.

It was Senior Choi.

“Yes, Seonbae.”

As Hae-won replied into the phone, the man awkwardly stepped back. Not leaving the room, as if wanting to eavesdrop on the call, he loitered near Hae-won.

―Sorry, I couldn’t answer your call yesterday. What’s up?

Hae-won had called Senior Choi last night. Hae-won and his wife were university classmates. They weren’t close enough to be talking at that hour, but they weren’t strangers either; he could have nonchalantly answered, saying it was a hubae calling, but he didn’t. Hae-won wasn’t doing anything with him, but he was being unusually cautious and careful.

“I’ll come near your practice room later. Let’s meet briefly.”

―Okay. Around two? Or should we have lunch together?

“Lunch is fine, I’ll come around two.”

―Alright. See you later.

Ending the call with him, Hae-won put his phone in his back pocket. The man, who had been staring intently, asked Hae-won.

“Who?”

“An acquaintance, a seonbae.”

“You made plans to meet?”

His face, which had probably expected to spend the whole weekend with him, fell.

“I have some business.”

“What’s your name?”

He asked again. It was a cautious question. He was being careful not to upset Hae-won’s mood. His name wasn’t that of a great man or a spy from an enemy country that had to be kept secret. It wasn’t a big deal.

“Moon Hae-won. And you, Hyung?”

“Me? I told you my name before.”

“Well, since you’re asking my name now, I’m asking yours too.”

“Haha. Right. Isn’t it weird to ask now?”

He didn’t remember when the man had told him his name. Hae-won lacked the ability to listen carefully to others. It was the same with Tae-shin. His words were just annoying noise to Hae-won. It was the same with his stepmother. He didn’t listen carefully to her words warning him, her son, about divorce. He ignored and scorned her. He despised where this low-class, vulgar woman dared to say such things. Because he didn’t listen hard to others, he ended up a parasite in the house of a man whose name he didn’t know.

“…….”

“Huh? Why?”

He looked at him, about to ask his name again. He decided not to ask. It seemed unnecessary.

“Did you do something like judo?”

“Judo? Me? No. Why, do I look like I do judo?”

Hae-won nodded.

“Not judo, but I do Brazilian jiu-jitsu for exercise. Want to try it too? It’s good exercise, and sweating it out really relieves stress.”

“I thought you did judo. Your body……”

“Sturdy, right?”

He tapped his own hard, log-like stomach. Yet his physique looked agile somewhere. Hae-won approached him. As he approached, the man who said he did martial arts stepped back. He plopped down onto the bed. Hae-won climbed onto his lap.

“……Your name is Hae-won? Moon Hae-won?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a pretty name.”

“Am I pretty?”

He nodded. He was serious and solemn. It was the kind of brain state Hae-won thoroughly disliked—an innocent, crude look in his eyes.

“Of those I’ve seen……, of all I’ve seen so far. More than the celebrities on TV.”

He looked up at Hae-won as if entranced. Stubble grown overnight sparsely covered his jawline.

“I’ve been told I’m handsome, but this is the first time I’ve been called pretty.”

“Ah, sorry. Did it bother you? Saying that to a man, doesn’t it feel bad?”

“No. It’s good to be pretty. I like pretty things too.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty. The prettiest I’ve seen in my life.”

He touched Hae-won’s waist. Hae-won kissed him a few times. He cupped the man’s cheek in his hand. Tightening below, he drew closer to his center.

The throbbing felt from his lower body faintly spread through the space between his seated thighs. His hand, thick and heavy, slipped under the clothes and cautiously groped the small of his back. When Hae-won didn’t refuse and stayed still, he quickly withdrew his hand and apologized.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I should…… stop, right?”

“It’s too early. I don’t…… that quickly…… we haven’t known each other long, I’ve never done that before.”

Even for someone who had left two suitcases at a man’s house she hadn’t known for long, it was an audacious thing to say, she thought herself. It was an overly impudent remark, considering she was sitting on the lap of a man whose name she didn’t even know.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He apologized repeatedly, as if genuinely remorseful. Hae-won lifted his face, which was flushed with embarrassment, and made him look at her.

“I’ll try.”

“Don’t try like that. I’m absolutely not forcing that on you. You can stay as long as you want, stay until you want to leave. There are plenty of rooms anyway, so what.”

It seemed he thought she couldn’t refuse such actions because she was staying at his house. With a serious expression, he spoke as if scolding Hae-won instead. It wasn’t because she was indebted to him, but at that moment, she became personally curious about his name. Hae-won chuckled softly and stroked the cheek of the sincere, straightforward man. The stubble scraping against her palm was prickly.

“Thank you.”

She tilted her head toward him.

∞ ∞ ∞

Senior Choi had arrived at the cafe first. A melancholy air hung over his neat face as he gazed out the window while drinking coffee. Two women who appeared to be students from a nearby university kept glancing at him and whispering among themselves.

He was a man with a likable appearance, and he was well aware of it himself. Hae-won placed her violin case on an empty chair and sat down across from him. He turned his head at the sound of her arrival.

“You’re here? You came quickly.”

Hae-won always made him wait. She had never once arrived on time for an appointment. She almost did the same this time, but an acquaintance gave her a ride. The acquaintance who, after kissing her and getting aroused, had hobbled to the bathroom to relieve his desire through masturbation to hide it.

During the trip here, she had hoped she might somehow learn his name, but she still didn’t know it. He had told her his name, but she couldn’t ask what it was now. It didn’t matter; calling him ‘Hyung’ worked for everything.

“Want some coffee?”

“Iced latte, please.”

“It’s so cold out. Have something warm.”

“Iced latte, please.”

“Alright.”

He went to the counter to order for Hae-won. He brought the iced latte and placed it in front of her. Hae-won took a sip of the iced coffee, the ice clinking as it melted. Suddenly, her chest felt hollow.

“So, what’s going on?”

“I have something to discuss.”

“What is it?”

“That violin open audition you mentioned last time. Is that over?”

“You said you didn’t want to.”

“I got kicked out of the house.”

“…….”

He blinked stupidly. When Hae-won took a sip of the iced coffee and set it down, the ice cubes clinked together, making a clear sound. As if snapping out of it at the sound, Senior Choi asked,

“Kicked out? Why?”

“That’s how it turned out. I fought with Father. So, about that position—is it still open?”

“That’s tricky. There’s already someone selected. The Concertmaster picked them, so it’s hard to go back on it now.”

“…….”

As disappointment clouded Hae-won’s face, which had held a sliver of hope, Senior Choi quickly added,

“Do you need money?”

“I have nowhere to go since I got kicked out.”

“Where are you staying now?”

“At an acquaintance’s place.”

“……An acquaintance?”

Senior Choi asked, seemingly curious about who this acquaintance was who had provided Hae-won with a place to stay. Hae-won didn’t respond.

It was the first time she was making a pitiful plea to someone because of money, and her first pitiful plea wasn’t going as she had hoped. For some reason, her mood sank heavily.

Whether it was Kim Jae-min’s doing to keep her from even setting foot in this field, or because of her own indifferent attitude toward the offers and not receiving any contact, even album session work had become scarce and now hardly came at all. Hae-won had no means to earn money immediately.

Bowing her head and returning to her stepmother was impossible given her personality. She would rather sell her violin than ever set foot in that house again. Her options were now few. As Hae-won sat there feeling helpless, he spoke.

“Then, do you want to try what I mentioned before?”

“What you mentioned before?”

“Why, we talked about it before, and you said you didn’t like it. There’s a party coming up soon at the Han-gyeong Hotel. You can perform there.”

He meant providing background music at a party hosted by a chaebol. She had refused for the same reason back then. It wasn’t because she had some great musicality or pride and refused; she just hated being placed like a decoration at a party where people were too busy with their own affairs to even listen to the music.

The very idea of seating a member of a symphony orchestra, called the best in Asia, not some part-time college student, to please the ears of a few distinguished guests was offensive.

“It’s not just a gig for undergraduate majors. The Chairman of the Han-gyeong Group is a huge classical music enthusiast. I heard even Henry Chang performed at his house once. It’s a formal performance. And while you’re at it, you can provide some background music too. The pay is four hundred per session. It’s just for a little while in the evening, and four hundred isn’t bad.”

Henry Chang was a rising world-class violinist. The great music enthusiast was using members of the orchestra sponsored by his company’s foundation as tools to elevate the level of his house party. To Hae-won, who was reluctant for the same reason as before, Senior Choi persuaded her in a gentle tone.

“It’ll only take three or four hours.”

“I’m not in a position to be picky about cold rice or hot rice.”

She wasn’t in a position to refuse and act tough now. Unlike before, Hae-won answered meekly. When she first received such an offer, she felt intense revulsion toward those who made such rude requests to provide accompaniment where they were partying and toward Senior Choi, who accepted such things without batting an eye. She thought it was a rude and unpleasant proposal even for him, the symphony concertmaster. But now, she couldn’t refuse such an offer.

“Yeah, everyone’s desperate to get in but can’t. Four hundred a day isn’t a small amount either.”

As Hae-won spoke resignedly, he muttered as if he had expected it.

Four hundred for one night. It was an amount that couldn’t even secure a tiny room the size of a palm in Seoul. She couldn’t stay indefinitely at the house of a man whose name she didn’t know. She had to leave someday.

Poverty was more painful than she had imagined, Hae-won was abruptly realizing. The misery and wounded pride were secondary; it was extremely uncomfortable. She couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t practice because others would complain, and she couldn’t get angry at the man who called her pretty. Even after securing a lump sum, her low spirits didn’t improve.

“Who’s this acquaintance you’re staying with? If something like this happened, you should’ve contacted me sooner.”

“I did, but you didn’t answer.”

He hadn’t answered Hae-won’s call last night. Senior Choi avoided Hae-won’s gaze, which was fixed on him, and only sipped his cold coffee.

“How do you know this person? Is it okay to impose on them for a long time?”

“They say I can stay, but I’m uncomfortable. I can’t practice…….”

“Ah.”

She had to practice at least three hours a day. If she didn’t practice, her hands would stiffen. If her hands stiffened, she couldn’t play as she wanted. Seeing Hae-won worried about practice, Senior Choi pretended to be serious.

“Then, do you want to come to my practice room?”

“…….”

He had a private practice room somewhere in Seoul. It was a small space with perfect soundproofing. Staying there would be impossible, but she wouldn’t have to deal with things like intercom calls from the security office telling her to be quiet. It was a place where she could play her violin to her heart’s content.

As she looked at Senior Choi, who was making the offer smoothly, Hae-won shook her head and said it was fine. She was in a situation where she had been kicked out of her house, had no money, and was parasitically living at someone else’s place. There was no way she would feel sexual desire. She wasn’t in the mood to get physical with him. At Hae-won’s refusal, he didn’t press further and sipped his coffee, gazing intently at her face.

「You don’t need a tuxedo. Black pants and a white shirt, no tie.」

She wore black suit pants and a white shirt. Over it, she put on a coat that reached her knees. The man whose name she didn’t know looked at Hae-won and said,

“It suits you well. What kind of performance are you going to? Can’t I come?”

“I’m going to do a part-time job.”

It was a part-time job that paid well for a one-night gig, but it was still work.

It wasn’t that she was ignoring Senior Choi’s earlier offer of an orchestra member position. The salary was just so-so, but if she became a full orchestra member, she could get an interest-free loan from the foundation, so Hae-won had planned to secure a small room with the loan money after rejoining.

No one really knows what the future holds. She never thought she’d end up living at the house of a man whose name she didn’t know, with nowhere else to go. She decided not to make any promises about what would happen in the future. It was useless anyway.

If Tae-shin were alive, he would have let her stay at his house. Or maybe he would have lent her a house under his name indefinitely. In return, he would have nagged her until her ears bled. Thinking of that, even if Tae-shin were alive, she didn’t want to ask him for help.

“Will you be very late? Where are you going? I’ll give you a ride. And I’ll wait nearby. Let’s come back together when you’re done.”

“They’ll pick me up and drop me off there. You don’t have to do it, Hyung.”

“I want to see Hae-won perform.”

“I can’t play here because it’s noisy.”

“Haha, right. It wouldn’t work here.”

The questions were increasing. Should I do this, should I do that, he listed things she didn’t even want. Hae-won no longer wanted to know his name.

“I’m going.”

“Hae-won.”

Hae-won put on gloves to protect her hands. As she was about to leave with her violin case slung over her shoulder, he called her to a stop. When she turned around, the man brought a shopping bag that had been on the table. Inside the department store shopping bag was a scarf. He wrapped the scarf around Hae-won’s neck.

“It suits you well. I knew this color would look good on you.”

“…….”

“It goes well with the color of your eyes.”

Hae-won intensely disliked people who imposed emotional burdens. She hated the emotional labor that grated on her nerves. She disliked Lee Tae-shin for the same reason. He imposed a burden on her. He did that even right before he died, and even after his death, he imposed a burden.

“Thank you.”

“Have a good time.”

As if he would wait here until she returned, as if he would take root here and wait all night long, the man looked at Hae-won that way. Hae-won lightly kissed his lips. His face flushed with embarrassment. Hae-won hurriedly left the apartment of the man whose name she didn’t know.

Senior Choi’s car was parked nearby. Before she knew it, the sun had set and the surroundings had grown dim. Hae-won got into his car. He was also wearing a white shirt and black pants under his coat. Senior Choi looked up at the apartment Hae-won had walked out of.

“You’re staying here?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t practice in a place like this. Even if Sarah Chang played a Stradivarius, they’d probably call security complaining about the noise.”

Speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, Senior Choi seemed to subtly mock her situation. Well, it would have been nice if she had come when he offered the practice room. His silent, wordless silence seemed to say that.

Words that sounded ordinary when she didn’t need to rely on others now sounded differently in this situation. It was a feeling she didn’t want to know or dwell on. Hae-won didn’t respond at all.

They drove for about an hour. The car stopped in front of a hotel on the outskirts of the beautiful metropolis. It seemed an entire wing of the hotel had been rented out; security guards stationed at the entrance checked the car’s license plate and their identities before letting them in.

“Here we are. Grab your violin and let’s get out.”

Hae-won got out of the car with him. A security guard approached them. Senior Choi handed him the keys. The security guard moved Senior Choi’s car to the designated parking area.

As if he had been here before, Senior Choi walked familiarly. Hae-won followed him inside.

They passed through a picturesque garden tended by professionals and walked to the entrance of the hotel banquet hall.

The hotel banquet hall, with its lavish lighting, reminded her of a medieval castle. At this level, it wouldn’t be strange to bring the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra or Henry Chang, who had a performance scheduled for tomorrow, to perform here.

“The other friends probably arrived first. Let’s quickly run through what we’re doing today.”

In the banquet hall where catering was being prepared, staff were bustling about.

Hae-won followed Senior Choi into the waiting room at the back of the banquet hall. The cello and viola were already there. The violist had joined the orchestra after Hae-won left, so they were meeting for the first time, and the cellist was someone she knew by sight but had never exchanged a word with.

Hae-won exchanged polite nods with them. With neither a proper place nor time to rehearse beforehand, she only read the sheet music with her eyes. Dvořák, Fauré, Beethoven, Sibelius, Mozart’s string quartet, and the rest were pieces to be played as background.

A string quartet is the most ideal combination of instruments. Two violins, a viola, and finally a cello. It covers high and low notes, as well as solemn middle tones, allowing for the most stable performance without needing more or fewer people. After running through one piece, the violist turned the sheet music and said,

“It’s our first time, but our breathing matches well.”

“Hae-won is just that good.”

“I listened to that album too. The songs were good. I heard it sold a lot? I guess you’re not active these days?”

The cellist, who had graduated from the Hamburg University of Music and Theatre and was pursuing a master’s at the Manhattan School of Music, asked. It was probably a meaningless question, but whether because of Kim Jae-min or her own insincere attitude, the record label hadn’t contacted her at all lately, so his words grated on her. It felt like a question asking if she thought she was doing well on her own after looking down on a top orchestra and storming out, so why was she showing up here now. Because she had no money, everything was tangled up, and she ended up here.

“I haven’t found a song I like.”

“You just need one big hit.”

While this ragtag group, gathered solely for money, exchanged such pointless remarks, someone knocked on the door—knock, knock—as if the hall preparations were complete. A middle-aged man in a tuxedo entered.

“We’ve set up outside. The guests will be arriving soon.”

“Understood.”

Senior Choi answered and stood up. They each picked up their instruments and went outside. A stage had been set up in the banquet hall with its high ceiling that resonated sound. In front of it, round banquet tables and chairs were arranged, waiting for guests.

The string quartet took their respective seats and did a final tuning. Hae-won stacked the sheet music in order. She just had to play in this order, and when the time came, return to the house of the man whose name she didn’t know—that would be the end.

“Shall we start lightly, as if we’re practicing?”

Senior Choi, the first violinist and principal player who had graduated from Seoul National University and earned a master’s from Juilliard, lightened the somewhat tense atmosphere. The cellist and violist agreed. Hae-won also placed her violin on her shoulder.

They began playing. No one listened. It would have been better to just play music through speakers. The performance, which no one listened to, was like white noise played to avoid the awkward, chilly atmosphere when no one was listening. Meanwhile, the party hall filled with people. Distinguished guests in glamorous party dresses took their seats at places marked with name cards.

By the time they finished a twenty-minute piece, the hall was almost full. The piece ended, but no one reacted. Without even giving them time to put down their instruments and relax their shoulders, they immediately moved on to the next piece. As if the guests would feel uncomfortable if the white noise stopped. They moved on to Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 7.

Providing background music was initially a pain, but as she played, Hae-won forgot about that too. They weren’t just any ragtag group but top orchestra members, so the quality of the chamber music was different. Rather, with no place to practice, playing here to her heart’s content was practice itself. Hae-won didn’t care whether others listened or not.

Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 7 is a long piece, nearly forty minutes. They could only coordinate the introductory part; the rest couldn’t be rehearsed. They just set the mood, agreeing to go at roughly this tempo. Whether it was because Senior Choi’s lead was good or not, even though it was their first time playing this quartet together, their breathing matched well. By the end of the long performance, sweat was damply seeping through her back. A few people applauded, but they were soon too busy chatting among themselves.

“Let’s take a short break.”

As the quartet stopped, the waiting piano began to play. The music didn’t cease.

Hae-won headed to the restroom outside the banquet hall. His hands were sticky with sweat. After using the urinal, he washed his face at the bathroom sink. The restroom, made of white marble tiles, also had a marble sink. He took out a small, neatly folded towel from a storage compartment and dried his wet face. Hae-won raised his head. His eyes met someone’s in the mirror.

“…….”

“I didn’t realize someone was here.”

Where had he seen him before?

He stared intently at the face in the mirror. The man in a dress suit was leaning against the door, waiting for Hae-won to step aside.

“Ah.”

“Are you finished?”

“Ah, yes.”

Hae-won’s expression twisted slightly at the unexpected encounter with the man’s face. He had seen him at the hotel pool, at Tae-shin’s funeral hall. He had also seen him at the police station that was investigating Tae-shin’s suicide.

Before he died, Tae-shin had called him about ten times. Hae-won hadn’t answered. Before jumping, Tae-shin had called the man over twenty times. No one heard his screams. No one answered his cries. Tae-shin jumped from the building rooftop, clutching a phone no one would answer.

If Hae-won had answered the phone, if he had just answered, Tae-shin would still be here, bothering him and lamenting about his unrequited love that Hae-won didn’t want to hear.

About that man.

Hae-won tossed the used towel into the basket under the sink and turned away. As he tried to pass by the man, who was rolling up his sleeves while approaching the sink, the man abruptly stopped. Standing face-to-face, Hae-won looked up at him blocking the way. Seeing him up close, the spacious guest restroom suddenly felt cramped. The man looked down at Hae-won and asked,

“Have we met somewhere before?”

“…….”

“I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

“…….”

He stared at Hae-won’s face for an impolitely long time. Then, as if he couldn’t remember, he tilted his head. Hae-won changed direction to avoid the man who wouldn’t move aside.

He left the restroom. In the banquet hall, where chandeliers sparkled, people in glamorous party dresses were gathered in small groups, chatting. Seonbae approached him with a cold drink.

“Want something to drink?”

Hae-won silently took the juice he offered and drank it.

“You okay? Managing alright?”

“I just thought of it as a rehearsal. Since no one’s really listening, it’s not stressful, which is nice.”

At Hae-won’s self-deprecating remark, Seonbae, who had been laughing half-heartedly, suddenly stiffened. His gaze shifted to behind Hae-won. Hae-won turned his head. A middle-aged man with a gentle expression was standing behind him.

“Hello. I’m Kim Jeong-geun of Han-gyeong.”

“Yes, hello.”

The name Kim Jeong-geun rang a bell. Probably from the newspapers or news. Hae-won bowed his head as he shook the man’s outstretched hand. It was President Kim Jeong-geun of Han-gyeong Group.

“I think it’s my first time seeing you today, right?”

“Yes.”

“I enjoyed the performance. Even though you probably didn’t get to rehearse together, everyone was exceptionally skilled. Especially the one named……”

“Moon Hae-won.”

“Right, Mr. Moon Hae-won. Your spiccato was quite unique. Is that your usual playing style? Ah, my mother was a violinist, and I played a bit when I was young too.”

It seemed someone had been listening to their performance.

“It’s not usually like that; I overdid it a bit today.”

“That kind of Beethoven wasn’t bad either.”

He patted Hae-won’s shoulder a few times and walked past. Kim Jeong-geun also shook hands with Seonbae, who was greeting him, acting as if they knew each other. He didn’t forget to say, “Take care.”

“You know President Kim Jeong-geun, right?”

After Kim Jeong-geun walked away and his figure grew distant, Seonbae asked.

“No. The name is familiar. I must’ve heard it somewhere.”

“President Kim Jeong-geun of Han-gyeong Group. The honorary chairman has been out of management for a long time due to dementia, so he’s effectively the real owner of Han-gyeong. Probably can’t transfer stocks due to inheritance tax issues.”

Senior Choi rattled on about things Hae-won wasn’t curious about and hadn’t asked. The occasionally glimpsed materialistic side of Senior Choi felt unfamiliar. His neat, intelligent face seemed to take on a stark, literal light whenever the lighting hit it.

“I heard his family really loves music. The honorary chairman is like that, and President Kim Jeong-geun’s wife was an opera singer. Seo Okhwa, she was a prima donna at the New York Metropolitan for over ten years. Married into a chaebol family and hit the jackpot.”

“I didn’t know.”

Despite Hae-won’s tone suggesting disinterest, Seonbae, perhaps somewhat excited, didn’t stop talking. Senior Choi had always taken the lead in such matters. He admired the upper class and wanted to live like them. He wanted to build connections in places like this.

The man Hae-won had encountered in the restroom earlier also came into view. He was standing next to Kim Jeong-geun. Even among the sea of glamorous party dresses, his appearance drew the attention of those around him. If the word ‘striking’ were embodied in a person, it would look like that.

Seonbae followed Hae-won’s gaze, spotted the man, and went, “Ah.” It seemed Seonbae knew him too. Hae-won remembered the detective at the police station last time calling him ‘Prosecutor.’ Come to think of it, Tae-shin had also said the man he had a crush on was a prosecutor. Something about needing Tae-shin’s help for an investigation related to his father’s company, or something like that.

A chaebol and a prosecutor. Not a combination that seemed fair.

“Do you know who that person is?”

Hae-won asked Senior Choi. He looked as if Hae-won’s question was utterly unexpected.

“Why do you ask? Interested?”

Hae-won looked at Seonbae at his nosy question, then turned his gaze away as if finding him pathetic and said,

“I saw him at the police station.”

“The police station?”

“I had some business at the police station and saw him there.”

“Well, he’s a prosecutor. Probably had business at the police station.”

“A prosecutor?”

“Prosecutor Hyun Woo-jin from the Central District Prosecutors’ Office Special Investigation Division. How should I put it? He’s a man with a bit of a story.”

Seonbae’s lips curled into a smirk as he thought to himself. It seemed like both a sneer and an acknowledgment of something.

“You could call him the unfortunate man who almost became President Kim Jeong-geun’s son-in-law.”

Hae-won looked at him, asking what he meant. Having actively sought out such places to expand his network, Seonbae seemed to have picked up a lot of gossip. Seonbae wet his throat with juice and continued.

“He was engaged to President Kim Jeong-geun’s eldest daughter, probably for about five years. The woman was in a traffic accident.”

“Did she die?”

“No, it would’ve been better if she died on the spot. She became paralyzed from the waist down, and her face was completely ruined. Prosecutor Hyun Woo-jin is famously handsome, even in the prosecution—think about his fiancée’s face being completely wrecked. On top of that, her body’s crippled.”

“…….”

It was a horrifying story that made one’s face instinctively contort. The face and body being ruined was terrible, but the fact that it happened right before the wedding sounded even more tragic.

Seonbae was looking at Prosecutor Hyun Woo-jin. It seemed like he was looking at something pitiful, yet also like he was looking at a villain getting his just deserts. A strange expression, as if watching a rival’s miserable downfall, filled his face.

“With a chaebol family daughter’s pride and a mother like Seo Okhwa, her beauty couldn’t have been ordinary, right? How could a woman like that endure ending up like that next to such a man? She asked to break off the engagement first, but Hyun Woo-jin insisted on taking responsibility. In the end, she couldn’t bear it and killed herself. Still, Hyun Woo-jin, who said he’d marry her and take responsibility, ended up looking like a fool. President Kim Jeong-geun still trusts him and treats him like a son-in-law because the capable Hyun Woo-jin stood by his daughter till the end.”

“…….”

“He’s capable himself, and with President Kim Jeong-geun backing him, they say he could easily make it to Prosecutor General. His father is the director of a general hospital, his mother is a medical doctor, his older brother is a cardiology specialist in the U.S., and his younger brother is a thoracic surgeon. Both his maternal and paternal sides are full-on medical families. From a family like that, he went off to become a prosecutor alone, got engaged to the daughter of Han-gyeong Group, and after the woman killed herself, he’s still sticking around like that. If it were me, I wouldn’t show my face. That’s what they call the stench of pretentious ink—the most educated ones are always the most pretentious.”

As he was harshly ranting about Hyun Woo-jin, Hyun Woo-jin suddenly turned his head toward them. Even if they shouted from here, he wouldn’t hear, but when Seonbae saw him look over, he choked on his juice and coughed violently. Hae-won made eye contact with him.

“How old was she?”

Seonbae, still coughing, asked, “What?” Hae-won, looking into Hyun Woo-jin’s eyes, asked again. Hyun Woo-jin was also staring straight at Hae-won. As if he’d finally remembered where he’d seen him.

“How old was the woman?”

“Twenty-nine, I think. Since Hyun Woo-jin is the same age as me, five years ago she would’ve been twenty-nine.”

When Tae-shin jumped from his own rooftop, he was twenty-nine. Hyun Woo-jin’s fiancée, who killed herself in despair over the accident, was also twenty-nine. Though it wasn’t cold, a chill like a shudder ran down his spine. They would forever be twenty-nine, and Hae-won, too, would be twenty-nine in a month.