CMT Ch5

On the inside of both of Seoyoon’s forearms, where Kwon Kijung’s fingers had touched, there were several thin incisions. Though not deep wounds, there were clear traces of blood having been shed.

Rather than scratches or abrasions from rough surfaces, these were smooth, straight-line wounds as if cut by a sharp, keen-edged blade. Kijung continued his questions like an interrogation.

“Is it true?”

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I tried to fix it. I won’t do it again, I absolutely must not do it anymore. Despite resolving this many times, he had failed repeatedly. Stress-induced self-harm was Seoyoon’s intermittent habit that was difficult to completely eradicate.

Cold sweat beaded on his half-naked upper body. The knife marks on his forearms were in a shape that anyone would suspect self-harm first. Falling down, getting scratched, fighting with someone else. These were scars of such a clear form that no clumsy lie could convince otherwise.

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He was afraid to see how these wounds would look in the man’s eyes. He would think he had mental problems. He might even talk about him to others. He would tarnish the face of his adoptive parents who had high hopes for today’s meeting, and greatly disappoint them…. Seoyoon’s vision spun as dizziness set in.

“No…”

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He couldn’t carelessly offer any excuses. Seoyoon shook his head weakly, turning pale as if about to collapse.

The blind date was set up unexpectedly quickly. If there had been ample time to prepare, he wouldn’t have done anything to leave marks on his body just days before the meeting. It’s no use regretting it now. He really meant to break this habit. He shouldn’t have done it no matter how frustrated or angry he felt.

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“Is there someone around who’s bothering Han Seoyoon enough to cause wounds like these?”

“No. That’s not it. I didn’t want to show you because I was afraid you’d think that. That you’d misunderstand.”

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“They don’t look like wounds that would occur without reason.”

“Director, it won’t happen again, so just this once… couldn’t you please pretend you didn’t see it? I’m begging you.”

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Despite Seoyoon’s earnest plea, Kijung’s expression showed little emotion. For someone inquiring about the circumstances of an injury, he showed no signs of sympathy or concern for Seoyoon. He merely continued to examine Seoyoon from head to toe, like someone assessing whether to buy an item on display.

His captured arm hurt. It felt as if hours had passed in this position. As he stood there blankly, no longer having the strength to plead, the restraint gripping Seoyoon’s arm was finally released. Kijung wiped his hands with a handkerchief he took from his inner pocket.

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“You may put your clothes back on.”

Even with permission granted, Seoyoon’s body trembled, preventing him from acting immediately. It was only when Kijung folded the handkerchief and placed it on the shelf by the doorway that he was finally able to bend down and pick up the shirt that had fallen to the floor.

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Was it a desire to deny reality? What had just happened felt dreamlike and dazed. Though still dizzy, he hurriedly slipped his arms into the sleeves. Unlike when taking it off, his movements were quick and flustered as he put the shirt back on.

Setting aside the mess of his inner thoughts, with his scratched body now covered by the white shirt, Seoyoon looked to anyone like a young master raised in a noble household. His weakened gaze and pale complexion only accentuated the delicate nature of a somewhat fragile young man, but he appeared far too refined for anyone to guess at his hidden habit.

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The new shirt, being Kwon Kijung’s, was considerably oversized. With the cuffs falling over his hands, Seoyoon rolled up the sleeves a few times to his wrists. After somehow managing to tidy himself with trembling hands, he raised his face and immediately met Kijung’s eyes, who had apparently been watching Seoyoon the whole time. He left a short remark, as if making an observation.

“You have an unusual hobby, Han Seoyoon.”

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This wasn’t in any of the reports I received. Kijung added as if talking to himself, then looked down at his wristwatch.

“Are you able to eat?”

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Though he knew he shouldn’t refuse, he couldn’t bring himself to say he could. He felt like he would immediately throw up if he put anything in his mouth.

He just wanted to disappear from Kwon Kijung’s sight as quickly as possible. The sight of him wiping his hands as if he had touched something dirty after touching his wounds, his attitude seemingly urging the end of an unpleasant and tedious meeting – even the small hope he had held for the next opportunity crumbled away.

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Though he hadn’t said it in words, he had already shown his answer about Seoyoon’s condition through his actions. This blind date had failed. If he had known it would end up like this, he should have shown nothing until the end, regardless of whether the other turned around and left.

Was there any need to stay and cling to this situation any longer? Kwon Kijung might be extending a final courtesy as a blind date partner, giving Seoyoon a chance to save face in his own way.

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“…My condition has worsened… if it’s alright with you, I’d like to go home now.”

“As you wish.”

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Kijung didn’t try to stop him either. When Seoyoon mentioned he had come by taxi, he simply nodded and had his employees prepare a car.

Though Seoyoon protested that it wasn’t necessary, Kijung’s response was as businesslike as it had been at the table. Not wanting to interfere with his ‘work’, Seoyoon quietly followed the staff out.

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Stepping outside, the rain had intensified since his arrival. A large black sedan crossed the spacious courtyard to pick up Seoyoon right at the edge of the eaves.

“I’ll see you next time.”

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Kijung responded to Seoyoon’s words with a nod, concluding the greeting. It was a plain response that made Seoyoon’s forcefully squeezed-out farewell seem out of place. He stood still in one spot, apparently intending to return home after sending Seoyoon off first.

The car turned the curve and left Nokwoojae. Whether it was due to the expensive car or his own malfunctioning senses that made him feel detached, it was hard to tell why his body didn’t shake despite passing over the uneven ground of the garden. Seoyoon never looked back once.

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The road, which hadn’t been busy even during the day, was now completely dark. This must be how a failed actor feels, exiting backstage after coming down from a stage where they couldn’t properly recite even one line of their assigned dialogue.

Seoyoon closed his eyes, feeling rather relieved as he was sucked into the middle of the night.

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