EMP Chapter 26 – Main Story End

After finishing his sentence, Kwon Jiwook paused to think. Who exactly was the “me” that had just spoken? And whose name had he called earlier?

This was the process of a “dream” wandering through his unconscious being reassembled into fragments of memory. At last, Kwon Jiwook fully woke from the long dream.

* * *

The ones who had tormented Kwon Jiwook were clearly no strangers to such acts. As a result, his condition was worse than Park Juyeon had anticipated. While it wasn’t a matter of life-threatening injuries, Park Juyeon concluded that it would be difficult to take care of him alone.

After moving Kwon Jiwook into the car and preparing to head to the hospital, Lee Woojin tried to tag along. Park Juyeon declined, saying it wasn’t necessary. It was enough that Lee Woojin had provided information about Kwon Jiwook and helped him build the strength not to be overpowered. The role Park Juyeon had wanted Lee Woojin to play ended there. Similarly, he planned to stop providing financial support for Lee Woojin’s gang-related activities. By now, he figured, Lee Woojin should be able to get by on his own, freed from the lowest rungs of gang life.

It was already too late to check in as an outpatient, so Park Juyeon carried Kwon Jiwook into the emergency room. At first, the medical staff had been helpful, guiding him along. But as more examinations were conducted and the context of the situation became clearer, they began casting suspicious glances his way.

So what? What does it matter if you look at me like that? I didn’t do it. Park Juyeon remained unperturbed.

Without him needing to explain, the staff inferred that the injuries were related to sexual assault and violence. They contacted the relevant departments accordingly. Kwon Jiwook had suffered injuries to various parts of his body, including tears in his urethra and rectum, along with fractures in several minor bones. The main advice was to avoid any strenuous activity. After approximately a week in the hospital, he would be discharged with medication.

Wow, you really made a mess of things, didn’t you? Park Juyeon thought to himself, clicking his tongue. He made a mental note to send the medical bills to Lee Woojin.

After completing the necessary procedures, Park Juyeon finally returned to the hospital room, where Kwon Jiwook lay sound asleep. He quietly gazed at him. The faint glow of a streetlamp outside filtered through the window, casting a dim light. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out Jiwook’s face in detail.

Park Juyeon traced his delicate fingers over Jiwook’s prominent brow bone, down his nose, and across his lips. Swollen and bruised from the beating, his face was marred with bumps and welts.

He had exacted the revenge he had dreamed of for so long. For eight years, he had devoted himself entirely to pursuing this man. He had never even considered what feelings might surface once it was over. He had been obsessively consumed by the single thought of making him suffer in the same way.

“What am I supposed to do with my life now?”

Revenge breeds more revenge. The best revenge is forgiveness. It was a saying he had heard so often it had become a cliche. But Park Juyeon didn’t agree. Revenge, in his mind, was the ultimate way to make the other party understand their wrongs, and “more revenge” was merely the residue of unresolved guilt the perpetrator refused to acknowledge.

He thought about breaking free now. He had spent the last eight years fixated on Kwon Jiwook; it was time to move on. He should seek out new things, meet new people, and refresh himself. But he wasn’t able to let go yet. Perhaps it was because he still had lingering feelings—whether those feelings were remnants of affection or unresolved hatred.

Resolving those feelings was Park Juyeon’s final task.

He checked the time. It was well past 3 a.m. Strange thoughts kept circling in his mind.

So this “late-night mood” thing really does exist, huh? He muttered aimlessly before lying down on the cot beside the hospital bed. He closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them again, his cluttered mind would feel clearer.

* * *

Before opening his eyes, Kwon Jiwook wondered why his eyelids felt so heavy. Maybe it was because he’d been struck in the face, or perhaps it was from crying so much that his eyes had swollen shut. As he mulled it over, he realized that beyond a certain point, he couldn’t recall anything that had happened.

The last thing he remembered was the moment the urethral plug was inserted for the first time.

Lying still with his eyes closed, Kwon Jiwook suddenly felt one of the men’s hands rush toward his face in the darkness. Startled, he gasped sharply and snapped his eyes open.

…Ah, the hospital. The faint blue dawn still lingered in the room. Kwon Jiwook struggled to steady his ragged breathing.

At the very least, he had survived.

At this moment, Kwon Jiwook felt more disoriented than ever. He assumed it was the lingering aftereffects of the abuse. It was hard to focus on any single thought, so he decided to sit up instead.

But as soon as he tried to move, every muscle and bone in his body screamed in pain. It wasn’t just soreness—it was beyond that. The injuries weren’t solely from the beating. He felt numbness between his legs, and the parts of his body where the patient gown touched stung sharply. When he noticed the unusual weight in one leg and arm, he lifted the blanket to find them both in casts.

…A walking disaster zone. He glanced at his remaining hand. It trembled slightly, involuntarily. When he raised it, the trembling worsened, so he let it drop back onto the bed.

“…”

Regaining memory was as natural a process as forgetting, so much so that one wouldn’t even realize it was happening. It wasn’t dramatic. There was no sudden headache accompanied by the rush of a year’s worth of memories, no divine flash that jolted his recollections. Instead, it was simply that when someone asked him about Park Juyeon, the memories that surfaced were from middle school rather than college. Oh, that happened, he thought.

Slowly, Kwon Jiwook turned his head to the side. There, on a cot, sat Park Juyeon, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, dozing lightly. …Right. That happened too.

Fatigue was etched deeply into Park Juyeon’s sleeping face.

Feeling inexplicably anxious, Kwon Jiwook said nothing and simply stared at him. Eventually, Park Juyeon’s eyelids fluttered open. There was no trace of sleep in his eyes.

Even as their gazes met and tangled in the air, Park Juyeon said nothing. Normally, his composed demeanor would have annoyed Kwon Jiwook. He half-expected the kind of taunting comment that would aggravate him—something like, “How could you collapse so easily? You’re so weak.” But as he studied Park Juyeon’s face, it seemed even more haggard than his own, despite everything he had endured.

“You woke up late.”

“…”

“You’ve been asleep for two full days, Hyung. You weren’t waking up, so I thought something was wrong.”

Park Juyeon stood, adjusted the bed to a sitting position, and handed Kwon Jiwook a cup of water. Kwon Jiwook quietly accepted it, drinking as he looked around. The luxurious atmosphere of the private hospital room suited Park Juyeon perfectly.

“…Hyung. Do you hate me?”

The suddenness of the question caught Kwon Jiwook off guard. He remained silent, waiting for Park Juyeon to continue.

“You said you didn’t do anything wrong, didn’t you? That you didn’t do anything at all. So, do you hate me for taking someone like you and doing this to you?”

“…”

Park Juyeon usually maintained a calm demeanor during conversations—unless provoked. But now, he was visibly anxious, fidgeting with his hands and biting his lip. Even he found his behavior unusual, but he couldn’t control himself. It was the first time he was confronting the emotions tied to the past, which he had always treated as mere sequences of events.

“You don’t believe me. You still resent me, don’t you?”

“I believe you, Park Juyeon.”

“What?”

“I said, I believe you.”

“…”

Park Juyeon’s eyes widened slowly. Even with Kwon Jiwook’s hoarse voice, the words were clear. That only made his heart pound faster. He couldn’t predict what Kwon Jiwook would say next. So what? What difference does it make that you believe me? He was terrified that Kwon Jiwook would act as if nothing had happened.

“…”

“And… I’m sorry. I was… wrong.”

“…Hyung.”

This time, it was Kwon Jiwook who averted his gaze. Lowering his head in front of Park Juyeon wasn’t because he had suddenly become enlightened or turned over a new leaf. It was because he had finally acknowledged the emotions he had been denying all along, along with the memories of their shared past.

Only after eight years could Kwon Jiwook view himself objectively. Back then, he had undoubtedly liked Park Juyeon.

He didn’t try to justify it with excuses like, I just didn’t know how to express my feelings properly. He knew perfectly well what a healthy relationship should look like. What he couldn’t accept was himself—his feelings for another man.

He had simultaneously wanted to stay close to Park Juyeon and to push him away as quickly as possible. For someone like Kwon Jiwook, appearances mattered more than anything, and the latter desire had taken precedence.

If only I hadn’t acted that way back then… Maybe our relationship could have turned out better. Maybe I wouldn’t be lying in this hospital bed, beaten and broken. Maybe I could have lived a normal life like everyone else.

The actions of a self he barely recognized were now dragging down the man living in the present. Into the tattered state of his mind, a fragile heart seeped in, and absurdly, a warmth surged up in his chest, bringing with it a wave of emotions he couldn’t suppress.

“You’re saying you’re sorry?”

“…Yeah.”

His weak voice trembled with an undertone of sobbing. Park Juyeon looked silently at Kwon Jiwook. Back then, Park Juyeon hadn’t been as severely hurt as the current Kwon Jiwook. But even as a young boy, Park Juyeon must have begged for forgiveness like this, apologizing for things he hadn’t even done, just as Kwon Jiwook was doing now.

“Hyung, when I was a kid, I apologized too. I begged you to stop, but you ignored me.”

“…”

“Do you even understand what I’m saying right now?”

“…Ugh…”

“Do you remember and cry about it? Or are you crying because it’s unfair? Because honestly, I’m the one who should be crying here, not you.”

Park Juyeon’s voice grew increasingly agitated. To him, it felt like Kwon Jiwook was clueless, simply listening and offering misplaced pity. Or worse, crying out of a sense of injustice. That thought only made him angrier.

“You know, for years, I’ve done nothing but follow in your shadow. I spent all my time thinking about how to destroy you, how to make you feel utterly wretched—because I was wretched because of you. And yet, you didn’t even remember me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry…”

“Is saying you forgot enough? Does not remembering erase all the wrongs you committed? Does that mean all I have to do is endure it by myself?”

“No, that’s not it…”

“How could someone be so selfish from start to finish? I just can’t understand it. You must’ve only wanted to make things easier for yourself.”

As he poured out his accusations, Park Juyeon’s voice began to falter, trembling with instability. Startled, Kwon Jiwook momentarily forgot to wipe his tears and lifted his head.

Park Juyeon’s eyes were already red, glistening with unshed tears that threatened to spill at any moment. His face, heavy with emotion, looked so much like the boy in Kwon Jiwook’s dream, swallowing his sobs.

“It’s like… it’s like I’m the only one living in the past, Hyung. I’m the only one trapped there, over and over again.”

“…”

Faced with such undeniable guilt, Kwon Jiwook had no words to defend himself. I was wrong. With his eyes squeezed shut, he whispered the words. By now, both of them were teetering on the edge of their emotional limits.

Park Juyeon, who had been staring at Kwon Jiwook, finally averted his gaze to the empty air. When he blinked, a tear that had been pooling fell silently.

“But… why is all you can say that you were wrong? Shouldn’t you at least try to explain yourself? Or is it that you still don’t remember who I am?”

“I remember. I remember… and that’s why I can’t even make excuses.”

Park Juyeon’s eyes fixed on Kwon Jiwook’s cracked lips, intent on catching every word.

“Then talk. Let me hear it.”

“I… Back then, I hated you, Park Juyeon.”

“…”

“I hated myself for constantly looking at your face, hated myself for wanting to tease you, hated how I wanted to take care of you, even a little. I was terrified someone might notice and start talking. Me, liking a guy? That could never…”

It was a thoroughly Kwon Jiwook kind of excuse. Park Juyeon let out a bitter laugh, short and sharp. His unrelenting pride had driven him to torment someone over such a trivial reason. It was so absurdly in character for Kwon Jiwook that Park Juyeon couldn’t even respond. Over something so simple…

“…Fine. It’s an excuse, I get it. I still don’t understand it, but… I’m sorry too.”

“No, don’t be. I get it now. You don’t have to apologize anymore. I just… I liked someone who was too much for me. Someone I couldn’t handle.”

To the young Park Juyeon, Kwon Jiwook had been a hero, an idol. And someone he wanted to love. Losing all of that at once had been devastating. At the time, he had thought the pain was something he had left behind.

But the emotions he had suppressed for so long, without counseling or therapy, spilled out uncontrollably now that he had opened his mouth. Even Park Juyeon was surprised by it. After a few sniffles, he sighed deeply. Was this enough? Had he finally unraveled all his feelings for Kwon Jiwook? Was he truly free of lingering regrets? He wasn’t sure. He needed time to clear his head.

“Seriously, I don’t even know what kind of mess this is.”

“…”

Kwon Jiwook felt Park Juyeon’s presence retreat as he left the room. His movements were hurried, almost rushed.

Kwon Jiwook closed his eyes in the empty hospital room. Throughout the conversation, he had secretly gripped the bedsheet tightly, his knuckles turning white from the strain. Only now did his fingers begin to relax, though they continued to tremble intermittently.

Kwon Jiwook hated seeing Park Juyeon angry. Each time Juyeon confronted him, he would lower his head, too busy hiding his fear to respond. The tears he had shed weren’t just the result of guilt that remained after confessing everything; they also stemmed from his fear of being abandoned by Park Juyeon and thrown back to the men who had once tormented him. In the end, all he could do was beg.

“…Hic… ugh…”

Once the thought took root, irrational fears flooded his mind. He couldn’t shake the idea that Park Juyeon, upset by his words, had stormed out and might never return.

Memories from just days prior resurfaced—memories of Park Juyeon watching but never intervening, his gaze unwavering. The growing unease began to dominate his body. What if Lee Woojin or one of the others suddenly barged into the empty hospital room?

No, this wouldn’t do. He had to find Juyeon. Just as Kwon Jiwook, frantic and on the verge of calling out, tried to lower the bed rail, the door to the hospital room opened again.

Park Juyeon entered, his gaze quickly sweeping over the bed as he approached. The air felt heavy, chaotic. Kwon Jiwook parted his lips.

“What… What happened in the short time I was gone? Why are you like this?”

“Juyeon… I was wrong. Really. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me alone, okay?”

Kwon Jiwook grabbed Juyeon’s collar with his uninjured hand. The furrow in his brow clearly reflected his mental instability.

“So… please don’t abandon me. Don’t leave me behind. I’ll believe whatever you say. Just… please don’t be mad. Everything’s my fault, Juyeon.”

“Hyung.”

His injured hand trembled violently. Park Juyeon stared at it before reaching out to clasp Kwon Jiwook’s hand. Even then, the shaking didn’t stop.

“…Hic… ugh…”

“…Really, how can someone be like this?”

This person had been chaining him down, both then and now. It was as though Kwon Jiwook’s very existence was pleading with him not to even think about escaping. And despite himself, Park Juyeon remained weak to him, just as he had been for the past eight years.

So much for seeking a fresh start. Park Juyeon let out a bitter laugh.

“Hyung, from now on… you need to be absolutely certain about one thing. You need to be truly grateful that I’m willing to take you in.”

At his words, Kwon Jiwook nodded endlessly, trying to hold back his tears. Juyeon lowered the bed rail on his side, slowly pulled Jiwook into an embrace, and gently patted his shoulder as he murmured softly.

“…Okay. Got it. Once your treatment’s done, come stay at my place.”

“Okay.”

“Other people might come back to beat you up, so you’ll need a leash.”

“…Okay.”

“And if you go outside, you might get assaulted, so just stay home.”

“Got it.”

Kwon Jiwook trembled as he answered, agreeing to every outrageous word Juyeon spoke. Perhaps, Juyeon thought, the one with a truly twisted sense of humor wasn’t Jiwook but himself. Otherwise, how could he find every pitiful, fear-driven action of this pathetic man endearing?

“…This time, I’ll really take care of you.”

“I… I’ll really behave this time. Hic. Just don’t abandon me.”

He nodded fervently as he replied. After a while, as Juyeon continued to rub and pat his back, Jiwook finally began to calm down. When the room fell silent, Juyeon glanced over and saw that Kwon Jiwook, drained from the emotional turmoil, had fallen asleep almost instantly.

Juyeon stared at him quietly before gently laying him down and lowering the head of the bed.

“…”

Who would have guessed that someone like Kwon Jiwook could become so weak? Certainly not the Park Juyeon from eight years ago. If he could go back to that time and warn himself, would he have been able to find a different purpose in life? Could he have let go of his old feelings and freed himself from Kwon Jiwook’s grip?

Juyeon slid onto the nearby cot and leaned his head against Jiwook’s bed, closing his eyes. Going back to that time… To someone who had exhausted himself in the present over past events, such thoughts were nothing more than empty fantasies.

Still, if he truly could return to that time, there was one question he would ask Kwon Jiwook:

“Were you ready to accept all the consequences of your actions?”

Lost in thought, Juyeon absentmindedly reached out, grabbed Jiwook’s fingers, and gave them a small squeeze before letting them go.