PEN Vol 4 Ch. 26

Cheon Sejoo, his cheeks gaunt from days of inadequate meals, got out of the car. His headache was excruciating. Even though he had showered at the workshop, he felt like the smell of blood clung to him. He tried to shake off the memory of Kang Junmyeon’s screams echoing like the wind as he walked.

The interrogation of Kang Junmyeon was mostly handled by Shin Gyoyeon. Even though Cheon Sejoo hadn’t directly participated in the violence, enduring those hours was incredibly difficult.

Shin Gyoyeon was a man who had no mercy. Watching him torture someone so brutally was enough to drive him mad. Cheon Sejoo had to bite his tongue repeatedly to stay sane.

During the interrogation, Baek Sunghwan, who had raided Kang Junmyeon’s club, arrived at the workshop with the materials he’d found in Kang Junmyeon’s office. Cheon Sejoo, standing guard over Kang Junmyeon, watched as Shin Gyoyeon examined Kang Junmyeon’s burner phone and account books.

Shin Gyoyeon didn’t share all the information with his subordinates for security reasons. The only person who knew everything he knew was Chae Beomjun, so Cheon Sejoo didn’t know what information Baek Sunghwan had found.

However, judging by Shin Gyoyeon’s foul mood afterward, Kang Junmyeon must have been involved in something else. Even his subordinates were summoned one by one and suffered terrible consequences.

Cheon Sejoo pressed his fingers against his eyes, trying to erase the lingering images of blood, and got into the elevator. Arriving on the 41st floor, he stepped into the lobby and saw his apartment door. He stood there for a long time, just staring at it.

His worry about Sejin, which he’d suppressed, now resurfaced. Sejin hated being alone, becoming so fragile that he couldn’t sleep properly without him. A sudden wave of guilt washed over him as he realized he’d left Sejin alone at home for over a week.

He entered, punching in the code, and was greeted by a silent apartment. Sejin’s and his own shoes were neatly arranged in the entryway. Sejin’s sneakers were also there, indicating he hadn’t left the apartment.

Unlike when he first met Sejin, he didn’t feel uneasy knowing that Sejin had been home alone for days. Cheon Sejoo knew how resilient and strong Sejin could be.

As he walked down the hallway, the motion sensor lights flickered on, illuminating his path. Following the guiding lights, Cheon Sejoo walked towards the living room. Despite getting closer to the living area, there was no sound. He slowly looked around the apartment.

The dishwasher in the kitchen was left open. Noticing that the dishes inside weren’t the same as he remembered, Cheon Sejoo realized that Sejin had eaten. The refrigerator was empty, but Sejin was resourceful enough to order food or cook something with simple ingredients, so he didn’t need to worry about him starving.

Assured that Sejin had been managing on his own, Cheon Sejoo started to move. He intended to go to his room to get some clothes for a shower, but he had a feeling Sejin might be sleeping in his room, so he lowered his hand from the doorknob. He didn’t want to wake him up. Or rather, he didn’t want to face Sejin in his current state.

Staring down at his blood-stained black clothes, Cheon Sejoo turned away silently. He entered the laundry room, took some clothes from the dryer, and went into the bathroom. There, he washed himself thoroughly with hot water.

He stood under the shower for a long time, until the lingering smell of blood that was in his memory, both reality and his illusion, faded away.

Cheon Sejoo, his face flushed from the hot water, stood before his bedroom door. He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob, then slowly opened the door.

The inside of the bedroom, covered in darkness, was gloomy and silent. The faint light spilling through the gap between the ceiling and the curtains barely illuminated Sejin’s form. Sejin, curled up alone, looked incredibly lonely. A lump formed in Cheon Sejoo’s throat, and he stood there, frozen, gazing down at Sejin.

Kwon Sejin was lying on Cheon Sejoo’s bed. He was curled up, not under a blanket, but covered with Cheon Sejoo’s often-worn clothes, clutching the T-shirt Cheon Sejoo had left behind a week ago. His eyes were wet, perhaps from a dream, and the veins on the back of his hand, gripping the shirt, stood out. Holding onto Cheon Sejoo’s scent as if he would never let go, Sejin was waiting for him.

Seeing this, a fire suddenly ignited deep within Cheon Sejoo’s chest. He recalled the countless looks and touches Sejin had given him. The arm that not only embraced him but wrapped around his waist, the head that rested on his shoulder.

Sejin’s gaze, fixed intently on him, always lingered on Cheon Sejoo’s lips, and even after Sejoo looked away, that gaze wouldn’t easily leave. He finally understood the hidden meaning behind Sejin’s actions, which he had dismissed as affection for a guardian figure.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t felt anything strange, but until now, Cheon Sejoo had always assumed that Sejin’s dependence on him was simply the affection of someone seeking protection. He was overly attached to his mother and, for his age, rather clingy. That’s why Cheon Sejoo had comforted and embraced him without hesitation. However, he had been completely wrong.

This was… too much. 

The desperation, the tenderness, the yearning in Sejin’s eyes that he now saw in the silence – it couldn’t possibly be just affection for a guardian.

Why… me…?

Just as he instinctively stepped back, speechless, Sejin, roused by his presence, stirred from his light sleep. His glass-like eyes glinted in the darkness. Staring blankly ahead, Sejin soon noticed the figure hidden in the shadows and lifted his head.

“…Cheon Sejoo.”

Focus slowly returned to his vacant eyes. Even in the dim light, Cheon Sejoo could see the tears welling up instantly in Sejin’s eyes. He stood frozen, like a statue, his mouth clamped shut.

In the meantime, Sejin sat up and rushed towards him, collapsing into his arms. He wrapped his arms around Cheon Sejoo’s neck, burying his face against him, his large frame crumpled so close. Cheon Sejoo was engulfed by his warmth.

“Why… did you only come now…?”

Sejin’s fragile voice blamed Cheon Sejoo. The yearning, resentment, and longing contained in that question felt heavier than anything in the world. 

When did it grow so large?

The feelings that had grown within the confines of Cheon Sejoo’s misconception now carried a weight he couldn’t bear. Cheon Sejoo closed his eyes, feeling suffocated.

He remembered Sejin leaning against him. That small body… No, in reality, Sejin hadn’t been smaller than him for a long time. Cheon Sejoo had simply seen him as a child, but Sejin had been looking down at him from above for a while now. The reason he saw Sejin as a child was clear. The blind faith in Sejin’s eyes was as pure as a child’s. It was a complete and untainted affection.

That’s why Cheon Sejoo hadn’t considered it to be directed at him. He’d only thought of it as affection for the role he played as his “protector.”

…This is wrong. 

He hadn’t wished for such heavy feelings. Cheon Sejoo had only cherished Sejin because he wanted him to be happy; it was a selfish act that didn’t deserve reciprocation.

“You’re… all I have left now….”

Tears, hot as fire, soaked Cheon Sejoo’s neck. Amidst the agonizing realization, Cheon Sejoo pushed Sejin away.

Sejin looked down at him with a heartbroken expression. His tear-streaked face flushed red, and he grabbed Cheon Sejoo’s wrist as if asking where he was going.

Cheon Sejoo pulled his hand away and turned, fleeing the room. 

An insurmountable wave was crashing down on him. 

He ran from the suffocating weight of it all.