INT Ch 2.2

If he had answered the call, perhaps Taeshin might not have died. Whatever Taeshin had been desperate to say, if he had confided in Haewon, even if Haewon had listened half-heartedly, and maybe if he’d heeded Haewon’s typically dismissive advice not to worry about such things, perhaps Taeshin wouldn’t have died.

The guilt and powerlessness weighing on Haewon from the top of his head to the tips of his limbs left him feeling that he wouldn’t even be happy to see his deceased mother appear in front of him now.

“Please, just leave.”

Haewon closed his eyes, sincerely pleading for the man to disappear. Right now, he wanted to be alone. He needed to be alone.

“Is something wrong?”

“A friend of mine died. He committed suicide.”

Haewon clutched his hair as if he wanted to tear it out. Taeshin’s death hurt. It was agonizing. Haewon’s face twisted with the pain.

“…I’m sorry.”

“So please, just go away, please.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Haewon.”

In response to Haewon’s plea, the man stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Haewon’s slumped shoulders and pulling him into a hug. He patted Haewon’s back gently, comforting him. Any anger or frustration he felt towards Haewon had already dissipated. His hand stroked Haewon’s back, and Haewon leaned against him, letting himself be held.

It wasn’t that he wanted to cry. It was just that he felt indescribably filthy. He wanted to grab Taeshin’s lifeless body, which had already been prepared for burial, and demand why he had called him that moment, why he had bothered to reach out to someone who rarely even answered the phone.

What was he doing?

Instead of mourning Taeshin’s death, Haewon and Kim Jaemin entangled themselves on the sofa. Their two bare bodies twisted together, and Haewon clung to Kim Jaemin’s neck, kissing him hungrily, dirtier than he ever had before. He let the man enter him without protection and moved his hips crudely, making himself feel dirtier, desperately begging him to break him, to be rough enough to erase every thought.

Though Kim Jaemin seemed momentarily thrown off, he did his best to be rough. Haewon spread his legs before him, betraying his own earlier pleas for the man to leave, as easily as if he had never told him to go.

Outside the window, snow fell quietly, just like the night Taeshin jumped from the building’s rooftop.

∞ ∞ ∞

He didn’t know how many days had passed. Days and nights came and went a few times. Just like they had done at the hotel, Haewon tangled with Kim Jaemin in his studio apartment, realizing how effective sex was at making him forget things.

Maybe a few more days had passed since Taeshin’s funeral. Kim Jaemin’s toothbrush and razor now sat in Haewon’s bathroom—something that had never happened with anyone else’s belongings.

Haewon even skipped his violin practice. When he was awake, he lay with Kim Jaemin. The man called Haewon’s name several times with pity as he reached his climax.

One morning after several days of this, Haewon woke up early. Kim Jaemin’s arm lay heavily across his bare chest as he slept. Haewon lay there in silence for a long time, feeling lazy and empty.

Sunlight sliced sharply through the gap in the blackout curtains, making Haewon feel hungry. Just as he lifted himself up and pushed Kim Jaemin’s arm off his chest, his phone rang.

The ringtone, which he had never paid much attention to before, made him instinctively alert. It was a habit he had developed since Taeshin’s death.

He quickly picked up his phone from the side table. It was a standard Seoul number. Kim Jaemin shifted, frowning as he heard the ringing, but Haewon answered the call.

“Hello?”

— Hello? Is this Moon Haewon’s phone?

“Yes, it is.”

— Is this Moon Haewon speaking?

“Yes, it is. Who’s calling?”

— This is Detective Hwang Eunchan from the Gangnam Police Station. Do you know Lee Taeshin?

“…Yes. What’s this about?”

— You’re aware that Mr. Lee passed away recently, correct? I understand you attended the funeral.

“I know. But what’s this about?”

— I need you to come in for questioning regarding Mr. Lee’s death. When would be convenient for you?

“Wasn’t it suicide?”

— Please just come in. We’ll go over everything at the station. Are you free tomorrow?

“Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After scheduling the meeting with the police, Haewon hung up.

He was puzzled as to why they needed to question him if it was suicide. Thinking it over, he decided to call the number back. Detective Hwang Eunchan’s voice answered.

“Hello, this is Moon Haewon from earlier.”

— Yes, what can I do for you?

“Is it possible for me to come in today instead?”

— Today? Let’s see… We do have other interviews scheduled, but if you have time, you can come in today. Just ask for Detective Hwang Eunchan with the Violent Crimes Unit when you arrive.

“Understood.”

Even after he hung up, Haewon lay in bed for a long while, lost in thought. When he finally rose, Kim Jaemin was still asleep. Haewon took care to be quiet as he showered, dressed, and packed a bag with his violin case and a few essentials.

Before closing the door, he looked back at Kim Jaemin, who was sleeping soundly, unaware. Haewon watched him for a moment, then silently closed the door.

The drive was longer than expected due to heavy traffic, even though the station was nearby. After Haewon gave Detective Hwang’s name at the entrance, someone escorted him to the Violent Crimes Unit, where Detective Hwang waited—a man of similar age with a sturdy build and a friendly face.

“You arrived quickly. I thought you’d be here in the afternoon.”

“My place is nearby. But what exactly is this about?”

“Please, have a seat.”

Officer Hwang gestured to an empty chair in front of his desk and glanced briefly at the violin case slung over Haewon’s shoulder. Haewon placed the case on the floor and sat down.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Just sit tight for a moment while I wrap this up.”

“Take your time.”

It seemed that Officer Hwang hadn’t expected Haewon to arrive this early, as he seemed slightly flustered.

Once he had organized his things, Officer Hwang sat across from Haewon and began flipping through some papers, which Haewon assumed were related to Taeshin. As he went over the documents, he habitually scratched his cheek.

“Your name is Moon Haewon, correct? Born in ××, right? What’s your current occupation?”

“I’m a violinist.”

“Ah, I see. A performer. And you’re a high school classmate of Lee Taeshin, correct?”

“Yes. But what’s this about? I thought Taeshin’s death was ruled a suicide.”

“Well, there are some questionable aspects.”

“Questionable? Are you saying it wasn’t a suicide, but a homicide?”

Haewon’s eyes widened, and his heartbeat quickened. Officer Hwang shook his head.

“No, it was a suicide. But there are a few things we need to investigate. It appears that on the day Lee Taeshin died, he tried to call you about ten times.”

“I had my phone off because I was practicing. I wasn’t able to talk to him that day.”

“Did you often talk on the phone with Lee Taeshin?”

Haewon couldn’t tell what exactly was under suspicion, but it didn’t seem like he was being interrogated. It sounded like they were confirming that Taeshin’s death was indeed a suicide. Haewon’s sense of guilt slightly dissipated.

“Not frequently, but… occasionally.”

“When was the last time you spoke to him before he passed away?”

“I often turn my phone off while practicing, so it’s been a while. I think it was sometime last summer or fall.”

He realized he hadn’t spoken to Taeshin since he had shared that he’d finally slept with the man he’d been secretly in love with. Taeshin’s voice back then had been elated, overflowing with the exhilaration of love, like he had no regrets left in life.

Taeshin had once said he loved that person deeply.

If he’d achieved something, he wouldn’t have needed to make such a choice. Though Haewon found Taeshin’s death puzzling, he assumed there must have been other reasons that led him to that decision.

“It’s been quite a while, then. So, you’re not really aware of how he’d been doing lately?”

“No.”

Taeshin had been tutoring aspiring sculptors at his studio as a part-time job, reluctant to join his father’s company. He was reasonably skilled and had graduated from a good school, so he always had students. Occasionally, he would rent a gallery to display his work, and even though his pieces sold for high prices—likely bought under other names by his parents to support him—his reputation as a promising young artist grew.

Eventually, however, that popularity faded, and he hadn’t held an exhibition recently.

“Did he ever mention any famous names? Politicians, or businesspeople, perhaps?”

“…Famous people?”

“Yeah, like influential figures in politics or business.”

“Not that I can remember.”

Haewon couldn’t understand why Officer Hwang would ask such questions. It seemed to suggest that Taeshin’s suicide was not merely the result of despair. Haewon looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“The night that Lee Taeshin jumped off the roof of his apartment, he made numerous calls. Around ten to you, and also, well….”

Officer Hwang began to speak but then abruptly stood up, as though he’d seen a ghost. Haewon followed his gaze.

Approaching them was a man Haewon recognized from the hotel pool and Taeshin’s funeral.

“….”

Officer Hwang, now visibly nervous, bowed slightly as he greeted the man.

“Prosecutor, you’re here. I’m sorry you had to come down here. The chairman of Kyungwon Group personally requested our chief to investigate this, so things ended up this way.”

“It’s fine. If it’s a necessary inquiry, I’m happy to assist.”

The man’s voice was low and concise, neither embellishing nor withholding. His gaze eventually landed on Haewon, who was still seated, looking up at him.

“….”

“….”

The man stared at Haewon, not as though trying to read his mind but more like he was trying to place Haewon’s face. Silence lingered in a way that made Haewon almost despise how quickly he’d recognized the man.

Then, the man’s brow twitched, as though he’d remembered the pool at the hotel. Haewon recalled that he alone had noticed the man at the funeral, unseen in return.

The man’s gaze slowly traveled from Haewon’s head to toe, then back up, as if he were choking Haewon by just looking. Haewon remembered the man as he had appeared at the funeral.

“Ah, sorry about that. Originally, we arranged for you to come in tomorrow, but the date suddenly changed. This interview is mostly wrapped up, so you’re free to go, Mr. Moon Haewon. If we need anything further, we’ll give you a call.”

Officer Hwang gestured to Haewon to get up, indicating he could leave.

“But I still haven’t heard the reason I was called in. What’s so suspicious about Taeshin’s suicide?”

Haewon remained seated, directing his question to Officer Hwang. Now, it was his turn to ask questions. Officer Hwang glanced hesitantly at the man standing nearby, who was waiting in silence yet exerting an unspoken pressure.

“Well, since I’m curious too, let’s conduct the questioning together, shall we?”

It was not a suggestion or persuasion; it was a command. The man pulled a vacant chair over and placed it beside Haewon, draping his coat over the back before sitting down.

Haewon glanced at him, taking in the man who had seated himself by his side. Their eyes met, and the man’s steady, unreadable gaze lingered on Haewon’s face for a moment before shifting back to Detective Hwang.

Detective Hwang cautiously sought the man’s permission.

“Is that alright with you?”

“It’s fine.”

Without bothering to ask for Haewon’s opinion, they decided among themselves, and Detective Hwang resumed flipping through his files.

“On that day, Mr. Lee Taeshin called Mr. Moon Haewon about ten times and also called you… nearly twenty times. How did you know Mr. Lee Taeshin?”

The tone was entirely different from when he questioned Haewon—polite and cautious. Seated with one leg crossed over the other, the man rhythmically tapped his fingers on his knee like a metronome, neither speeding up nor slowing down.

Ten calls to me, twenty to him.

He called this man twenty times?

No way…

The man Taeshin had said he liked…

Haewon’s heart sank.

At Taeshin’s funeral, he had seen this man and wondered if he might know Taeshin’s father. But now, everything was clicking into place.

The man Taeshin had loved had been Haewon’s neighbor all along.

Inside, Haewon had scoffed at Taeshin’s exaggerated words about the man’s appearance, thinking it was only infatuation that made him see everything in such a flattering light. But in front of him, Taeshin’s description of the man—striking, concise, devoid of Taeshin’s usual flowery embellishments—was vividly accurate.

So Taeshin’s last unrequited love hadn’t gone entirely unnoticed. Haewon remembered the calm sorrow on the man’s face at the funeral. Perhaps if Taeshin had seen this, he wouldn’t have regretted his death, as he’d finally managed to pull the man to his side even in death.

So it was him…

The man Taeshin had loved… it was this man.

Although Taeshin had never mentioned his name, Haewon felt certain that the man seated loosely beside him was the one.

The man replied to Detective Hwang’s question.

“I first met him at a concert hall, and after that, he became my younger sister’s tutor.”

His voice was neither harsh nor forceful, but it had a natural authority.

Taeshin had once said his voice was impressive. He also had long eyelashes and a nose and lips with an artistically striking profile that drew attention.

While answering the detective, he turned his gaze to Haewon, offering a nearly imperceptible smile. The moment their eyes met, he seemed to survey Haewon’s face and then looked away.

Suddenly, Haewon felt a wave of discomfort. It was as if his gaze was asking, “Well? Isn’t this face good enough to make you stare just like Taeshin did?” His eyes seemed to convey this silently.

“Your sister?” Haewon asked.

“Yes, Mr. Lee Taeshin graduated from the Hongik University sculpture department. He was doing his own art while also tutoring college prep students. That’s how I came to entrust my sister to him, and we spoke on the phone regularly.”

“Are you aware of that?” Detective Hwang turned to Haewon.

“I know he was tutoring a few students, helping them with portfolio preparation.”

“And you couldn’t answer Mr. Lee Taeshin’s call that day either, could you?” Detective Hwang asked the man.

“No, I couldn’t. I was in a meeting.”

Just as he hadn’t been able to answer when Taeshin was about to jump, neither had the man. The thought of the despair Taeshin must have felt, with no one there to pick up, tightened Haewon’s expression.

Detective Hwang turned to the man with questions similar to the ones he’d asked Haewon.

“Have you noticed anything unusual with Mr. Lee Taeshin lately? Anyone he might have met outside of his usual circle…?”

“Outside of his usual circle?” The man repeated.

“Anyone famous he wouldn’t have known, like a politician or a business figure…”

Detective Hwang trailed off. Perhaps intimidated, he hesitated as if realizing he had overstepped. He had asked Haewon similar questions, suggesting that some prominent figure might be tied to Taeshin’s death.

“I haven’t heard anything like that,” the man replied.

Detective Hwang turned to Haewon. “You’re free to leave now, Mr. Moon Haewon.”

“What exactly did you mean by ‘suspicious’?” Haewon asked.

“That’s part of a private investigation, so I can’t disclose it. We’ll contact you if we have further questions, so please go ahead.”

His tone indicated he was eager for Haewon to leave.

Haewon had thought Taeshin had jumped due to unrequited love for this man. But now, the implication was that there could be another reason behind his death.

If he had answered that call, he might have known why Taeshin had wanted to jump. But now, whatever his reasons were, they no longer mattered.

He was dead, gone from this world. Haewon was neither his friend nor anything else.

Detective Hwang made a subtle gesture for Haewon to leave, so he stood without hesitation, slinging his violin case over his shoulder.

“You must be going through a lot, being associated with someone like this…” Detective Hwang commented.

“It’s alright. If I can be of help, I’d like to be,” the man replied.

As he moved toward the exit, their voices faded. Haewon pushed open the glass doors of the police station and stepped outside.

He hadn’t known Taeshin was tutoring the man’s sister. Since they hadn’t spoken since Taeshin had told him they’d slept together, Haewon knew none of the details and didn’t care to. Regardless, Taeshin had jumped of his own volition, and nothing could change that fact or his death.

∞ ∞ ∞

Haewon didn’t return to his apartment but instead rented a room in a downtown hotel. When Kim Jaemin called, he ignored it—and planned to continue doing so, as he had no intention of seeing him again. He called the realtor to put his apartment on the market. Until he found another place, he would stay at the hotel. The calls from Kim Jaemin gradually decreased until they stopped altogether, and he finally texted Haewon, saying he was returning to the U.S. because of work.

In his last message, he asked if this was really how it would end, after all his apologies and attempts to make amends without even knowing what he’d done wrong. Haewon left it unanswered.

Even after Kim’s message, Haewon didn’t go back to the apartment. He felt more at ease at the hotel, where he paid for a two-week stay. When he handed over his card to pay for lunch at the hotel restaurant, the staff member informed him that it had been declined. Without a second question, Haewon paid in cash. His father had likely blocked the card.

Suppressing his frustration, Haewon called his father.

— You only call when you need something. A dutiful son, as always.

“You canceled my card? It’s not working.”

— Why are you spending hundreds of thousands at a hotel when you have a perfectly good home? Didn’t you know your stepmom gets notifications about every purchase?

“Every time I use my card, she gets a message?”

— Three hundred at the department store the other day, seven hundred at the hotel today. She says a million a month is too much. And I’ve got to agree; that’s a lot. You’re old enough to earn your own money. Stepmom says you need to work for it to grow up, and she’s got a point.

Haewon bit his lip in frustration, not responding.

— If you don’t have anywhere else to stay, just come home. Stop wasting money at the hotel.

“Should I tell your new wife in the U.S. about your second life there?”

— Don’t you even think about it. Haejung knows already, and she cried her eyes out in front of her kid. We agreed to let her handle the finances for a while. Just an act, of course, but anyway, she’s getting notifications for my card too.

“What?”

— Hey, don’t waste money. Just come home.

“I’ll be at your office soon. Have a new card ready—one without notifications. I’ll be there.”

Haewon ended the call sharply, glaring at his phone as if it were his father. He made his way to his father’s office, a place he hadn’t visited since coming of age. After having to look up the address online, he gave it to the taxi driver.

He passed through the lobby unnoticed, but the secretary stopped him at the executive office. When he introduced himself as the son, she looked him over with obvious interest.

“Apologies for not recognizing you sooner. This way, please.”

She knocked on the office door and opened it for him. Still wearing his violin case, Haewon entered. His father was practicing his golf swing on an indoor mat.

“Sir, your son is here.”

“Oh? You came? Come in, come in.”

Without looking up, his father took another careful swing, aiming to sink the ball into the hole.

“Can I get you something to drink?” the secretary asked.

“No, I won’t be here long.”

“Understood.” She bowed and left. Haewon collapsed onto the sofa.

“Hand over the card. Or issue a new one, one that Mom doesn’t need to know about.”

“Did you put the apartment on the market?”

“There’s no privacy in this family. How’d you find out?”

“Don’t you know there’s a lien on that apartment?”

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

“In case you don’t behave.”

“I did put it on the market. Too many people were coming in and out.”

“How are you going to move out and reinstall all that soundproofing? Just stay there. Those soundproofing materials cost millions. I don’t make that much money, you know.”

“I already put it up for sale. Just give me a card. I’ll need it for the soundproofing at my new place.”

“Oh, you little…”

The swing went wide, and the golf ball rolled over to Haewon’s feet. He picked it up, holding it hostage, and stared at his father.

“Damn kid, you think money grows on trees? You know that’s all debt to be repaid?”

“Should I call Mom? Didn’t you say the U.S. branch was in San Francisco? I assume that’s where you set up your new family too.”

“How do you know that?!”

Haewon pulled out his phone, and his father sprang forward in alarm.

“You’re not the type to go far. Is she an employee at the U.S. branch? She’s not Korean, I assume. Japanese? Chinese?”

“Wow, how did you figure all that out? You should be a psychic.”

“You don’t like Western women. You always said their chests were too big.”

“Don’t get me started. Her… assets are the size of my face. It’s horrifying.”

Haewon cringed at his father’s vulgar choice of words.

“Just give me a card without Mom knowing.”

“A twenty-two-year-old Chinese girl who used to serve at a Chinese restaurant. She’s tall with such long limbs that, in a qipao, she’d give Maggie Cheung a run for her money. Ah, how I miss Gaoling.”

Unfamiliar with Maggie Cheung and uninterested in learning, Haewon looked sharply at his father, who seemed lost in a wistful memory.

“I said, give me the card.”

“I’m not selling the officetel. Attorney Park said that place would double in three years, so I’m leaving it as is.”

His father’s habit of micromanaging, even down to one officetel among dozens of properties, gave Haewon the sense he’d never fall on hard times. He was so meticulous with his investments that he could maintain multiple households and affairs without a hitch. Haewon couldn’t understand such obsessive diligence. It explained why his father was able to juggle so many things—mistresses and homes alike.

“It’s mine, so I’ll handle it. If you gave it to me, stop meddling. Don’t nitpick.”

“From now on, nothing’s yours in this family.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Haewon looked at his father with a spark of anger. Picking up a golf ball that had rolled his way, his father feigned calm, clearing his throat as he lined up his shot with careful precision.

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

“I’m transferring it to Haejung.”

“…What?”

“Your stepmother was making a fuss. I didn’t have much to give her, so I said I’d transfer the officetel to Haejung, and she finally quieted down.”

“You have dozens of properties! Why are you giving her mine?!”

Haewon sprang to his feet.

“She insists on having yours. Says she won’t stay otherwise and even threatened to disappear somewhere with Haejung where I can’t find them. What do you expect me to do? It’s just you and Haejung. You’re already out of the picture, so I should get to enjoy watching Haejung grow up in my old age. I’m too worn out to keep up with Gaoling, no matter how beautiful she is. I’m getting old, too.”

“…”

He was doing this on purpose. Haewon had insulted his stepmother recently.

“You built a household with my father while my mother was alive, didn’t you? So what’s the big deal now?”

Haewon had humiliated his stepmother with words like that, reminding her that she’d insulted Haewon’s mother by starting a new family with his father while she was still alive. She didn’t deserve to feel offended, nor did his father.

His stepmother was trying to control Haewon with money, reducing him to a pawn of his father’s financial power. The humiliation was unbearable. Even if the officetel was transferred to Haejung, Haewon wouldn’t go there, no matter how inconvenient it was. Stifling his anger, he said,

“Then at least give me something else. I need a place to live, too.”

“Just move back in. Your stepmother promised she’d treat you well. She said she wouldn’t provoke you and would look after you. Haejung likes you, too. It’s not like I’m asking you all to squeeze into a single room; you could have the entire second floor to yourself. Why are you so against it?”

He looked genuinely bewildered. Haewon clenched his fists. His father’s obliviousness had gone too far. It was as if he had completely forgotten what he had done to Haewon’s mother.

“Do you expect me to sit down and eat with the woman who had an affair with you while Mom was alive? Do you forget how she died? What kind of fool would forget that? Maybe you could.”

“…You little brat.”

His father’s face hardened, all humor gone. Grinding his teeth, Haewon stood up from the sofa. Ignoring his father’s shouting, he stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. The startled secretary looked up with wide eyes as Haewon walked past her, bowing politely as he moved toward the elevator. Haewon’s clenched fist trembled slightly.

Haewon’s mother had been a beautiful woman. She met his father while she was a music student, studying piano. His father had been instantly smitten with her while she played at a high-end restaurant. He began visiting every day, ordering steak each time just to see her.

They fell in love, and when Haewon’s mother became pregnant, she left her studies. She would play piano for him while she was pregnant, saying she wanted him to hear only good things. She often played love songs by Elgar and Schumann, who wrote his music as a lifelong love letter to his wife, Clara.

For a time, they were happy. His father’s business prospered, and his mother lived as the elegant matriarch of a large home.

But having a happy family didn’t cure his father’s infidelity. He was no Schumann—he was rotten to the core. He frequently had affairs.

One day, after silently enduring his affairs for years, Haewon’s mother left without a word. It happened when Haewon had just started learning violin in earnest at the preparatory school. He was fifteen.

She left no trace, no letter. She took nothing his father had given her—not even Haewon. She simply walked away, alone.

Haewon didn’t see it as abandonment. He would’ve done the same in her place. He respected her decision to leave his father and live her own life, even if it meant leaving him behind.

The next time he saw her, she was in a hospital, just as Haewon was exploring graduate programs at Juilliard. She had lung cancer. His father, oblivious, had started a new family. By the time his father’s new wife had a child, Haewon’s mother was moving to a hospice, her condition critical.

Lying there, she no longer resembled the beautiful woman she once was, her body reduced to a frail shadow. Haewon held her hand, feeling helpless.

As she endured the pain with morphine, her mind drifted in and out of consciousness. She didn’t die of cancer itself but suffocated from fluid filling her lungs.

After she lost her hair and became frail from chemotherapy, she didn’t want her father to see her like that. When he was informed of her illness, he never went to visit her—not out of hatred but out of fear. He wanted to remember her as the young woman he’d met at the restaurant, still playing piano. Cowardly and selfish, he couldn’t face his own guilt.

That was how his mother died. After losing her, Haewon gave up on his plans to study abroad. He no longer had the desire to work hard at anything. Although he still played the violin at his professor’s urging, everything lost its color for him after her death.

This was the reason Haewon could not live with his father and stepmother. The reason he couldn’t become a part of their family. He couldn’t live with them until he realized the pain of suffocating from the rising phlegm.

∞ ∞ ∞

For a few days, he stayed at a hotel, and for a few more, at the house of a man whose name he didn’t even know. He never had savings, emergency funds, or any money put aside. As his father had said, Haewon only spent money—he didn’t know how to save or earn it. He’d never felt the need to save.

After paying for four nights at the hotel with what little money he had left, Haewon was left with no more than ten thousand won in his pocket. The violin on his shoulder was bothering him. If he sold it now, he could get ten million, or even more if things went well. He never imagined that the moment to sell the violin would come so soon.

Haewon didn’t answer calls from his father or stepmother. Every time their calls came in, he wanted to throw his phone on the street.

He headed for the officetel. It was his home, but now it had become Haejung’s. Ironically, he didn’t feel the same revulsion toward Haejung as he did toward his father or stepmother. The child was innocent. The space that had once been his was now Haejung’s, but surprisingly, Haewon didn’t feel as strongly about it as he thought he might. Perhaps it was because it was Haejung.

If it had been his stepmother or father’s name on the property, Haewon would have destroyed everything of value, including the officetel. But this was his own fault—he wasn’t good at flattering, nor could he scratch at others’ insecurities.

Haewon opened the door to the officetel where Kim Jaemin had last stayed. He froze. He had imagined that if it had gone under his stepmother’s name, the officetel would have been destroyed. But the sight before him was far worse than he had imagined.

“…Crazy bastard.”

He hadn’t thought of Kim Jaemin as that low of a person, but the inside of the officetel was a complete mess. Everything was in disarray, as if a thief had broken in, and the wardrobe and drawers were all wide open, completely trashed. It was an act of venting his anger toward Haewon’s silent disappearance, and it was far more disgusting than what he had ever imagined, considering Kim Jaemin’s usual calm demeanor.

Haewon closed the door and entered. He stood in the living room with his shoes on, completely at a loss as to where to begin cleaning the mess.

This was truly the end. He would take comfort in the fact that this was the end between him and Kim Jaemin. The fact that Kim Jaemin had done something so childish and dirty meant that he had no intention of showing his face again.

Haewon sighed and picked up the clothes that were lying at his feet. If his father or stepmother saw the state of the officetel, they would definitely think he had done this on purpose.

It was a house he had to leave anyway. He half-heartedly started cleaning, separating things to throw away. While he was cleaning, the intercom rang. It was a message from the security office.

“Yes?”

― There’s a package for you at 2205. It had been stacked in the corner, and I didn’t see it until now. You can pick it up at the security office.

“I don’t think I ordered anything. Is it for me?”

― It’s for 2205. The name is… Moon Haewon? Is that you?

“Yes, I’ll come to pick it up.”

It seemed like he had ordered something and forgotten about it since he had been away for so long. Haewon went down to the security office and absentmindedly took the package from the security guard, only to freeze.

The sender was Lee Taeshin.

Haewon took the package back to the officetel.

Taeshin’s phone number, Taeshin’s name, and the high-rise building where Taeshin lived alone were listed as the sender. Haewon opened the box. Inside were two photos of Taeshin awkwardly smiling in front of an object at an exhibition.

Haewon flipped through the notebook. It seemed to be a sketchbook with scattered notes and sketches of the sarcastic images he had thought of. Taeshin, who sent this to him despite Haewon having ignored his calls and deleted his messages, made Haewon feel frustrated even though he was already dead.

Everyone has parts of themselves they don’t want to show their parents. Haewon could understand that, and perhaps Taeshin thought it was better to send it to him than let it fall into the hands of his parents. Maybe he had even decided to send this as a form of regret.

Haewon stared at the foolish face of Taeshin awkwardly smiling in the photo for a long time.

“…Idiot.”

He didn’t want to see it. Haewon shoved Taeshin’s photo between the pages of the notebook and tossed them into the box that he had prepared for things to throw away.

He packed only what he needed. Two large suitcases were filled. Haewon left for the house of the unknown man he had stayed with over the past few days.

The man had approached Haewon when he was standing in front of the hotel, clueless, with no money to his name, sensing that the time had come for him to sell his instrument. He had asked Haewon if he had a lighter.

Haewon didn’t smoke. His mother had hated it. Haewon wasn’t the type to follow every command of his mother, but he never smoked.

He reminded the man that they were in a non-smoking area and shook his head, indicating that he didn’t have a lighter. The man, not teasing Haewon, took out a lighter from his pocket. The cigarette was already in his mouth. He lit the cigarette, took a drag, and stared intently at Haewon’s face.