INT Ch 9.1

Haewon couldn’t eat properly. There was no reason not to eat, yet his appetite was gone, and whenever he tried to eat something, all his energy drained away. He wasn’t physically unwell, but he couldn’t understand why he felt so sluggish and heavy. It was as if he had been dragged through a threshing machine; both his mind and body felt utterly worn out.

He stared endlessly at a phone that wouldn’t ring and looked for a long time at a door that wouldn’t open. When he tried to practice, he only managed to coat his bow with rosin. Whenever he held the violin to play something, his fingers wouldn’t move.

He couldn’t remember the fingerings or bowing techniques. Even the sheet music he forced himself to open wouldn’t register in his mind. In the end, he skipped practice. Though he had a symphony rehearsal, his utterly drained willpower couldn’t overcome his lethargic body.

Haewon lay around all day as if someone had given him permission to do so. He didn’t want to do anything. It wasn’t just a lack of activity—it was an intense and fervent unwillingness to engage in anything, a deeper level of lethargy.

With his heavy body sprawled on the bed, he stared out the window and thought:

Was I dumped? Me? Moon Haewon? Me? Really?

He had never been dumped before. He was always the one doing the dumping, but this was his first time being on the receiving end.

Suddenly, he realized that this lethargy, this desire to do absolutely nothing when he was already doing nothing, this sinking feeling that drilled him deeper into the ground, was the aftermath of heartbreak.

So this is what it feels like to be dumped. This is what heartbreak feels like.

People can say goodbye and part ways. But when it’s not mutual, when one side is dumped unilaterally, it turns people into this. Haewon realized this, of all times, in the cold winter, as he was nearing an age where his life would soon resemble a carton of thirty eggs.

What made it most unbearable was how vividly he remembered the moment when the passionate flame in Woojin’s eyes was extinguished in an instant. Recalling his face, frozen cold, sent a chill through Haewon’s chest.

Though he burrowed under the blankets because of the cold, the chill didn’t leave. Thinking of Woojin’s hands—so warm they transferred heat instantly—only made the shiver worse.

Morning was breaking outside. Haewon wanted to sleep, but his head throbbed, and his eyes ached without relief. He rubbed his dry, gritty eyelids as though sand had gotten in them.

Was it my fault? Was I the only one at fault?

Hyun Woojin, you weren’t perfect either.

From the start, he had lied to bring Haewon to that house. Woojin had set the stage for misunderstanding, and Haewon had no choice but to misinterpret the situation. Haewon had judged him as filthier than garbage, refusing to give him a chance to explain or show trust. With careless words, he had hurt Woojin deeply.

Faced with a misunderstanding he couldn’t handle, Haewon chose to flee. Except for losing his mother first, Haewon’s life had been relatively uneventful. He had always been a coward, refusing to acknowledge Woojin as a disruption to his otherwise predictable existence.

Woojin wasn’t someone from Haewon’s immediate circle. They moved in entirely different spheres, with no mutual connections to bridge the gap.

From the moment he decided to let Woojin go, an unbridgeable distance opened between them. More than the shock of being dumped, the thought of never seeing Woojin again was driving Haewon to madness. It was unbearable, and it truly felt like he would lose his mind.

Despite being dumped, he couldn’t stop thinking about Woojin. They had been together for nearly a year. For almost a year, Haewon had adored him every single day.

“What should I do…”

The words slipped out, dry and hollow. Woojin’s voice echoed in his ears, whispering a thank-you against Haewon’s ear for waking him up. Haewon wanted to call Taeshin. He wanted to ask what he should do in a situation like this.

Haewon skipped his lesson. Having never missed one before, his professor called him.

“…Hello?”

“Haewon, is something wrong? It’s unlike you to miss practice entirely.”

“I’m sorry. I meant to let you know, but I forgot. I think I’ve caught a cold. I feel so unwell that I can’t even move.”

In a weak voice, he made excuses for skipping his lesson. The professor, unaware of Haewon’s turmoil over a man, expressed concern for his well-being, eating, sleeping, and practice.

Unsurprisingly, there was no call from Woojin. Haewon had been dumped. Woojin had ended things. There was no reason for Woojin to call or show up ever again. He wasn’t grappling with his emotions like Haewon. Haewon had seen with his own eyes how Woojin had extinguished the burning blue flame within him.

Haewon didn’t change the door lock code. It wasn’t because he hoped Woojin might have a change of heart and visit. It was because he knew Woojin wouldn’t come back, so there was no need to change it.

He felt hollow. He searched online for “post-breakup aftermath,” only to read useless advice claiming that such emptiness varies from person to person—lasting a few days for some, or months, even years for others. Frustrated, he threw his phone aside.

After days of staying inside his officetel, he finally stepped out. He trudged aimlessly, walking endlessly. It wasn’t as if this was his first time ending a relationship, but no matter how much he bundled up, he couldn’t shake the hollow chill in his chest. It was as if something had left him completely empty.

If it had been a mutual breakup, it might not have been this bad. But he had been dumped—that was the difference. He still liked Hyun Woojin.

After walking for what felt like forever, he ended up on the street where he once blurted out to Woojin that he missed him. Woojin had worked all night and returned from an early business trip, and in the early hours of the next day, he had held him and sincerely said he missed him too.

Why had he overlooked moments like that back then?

Even if what he saw had been true, he should have trusted Woojin first. He should have thought, “There must be an explanation,” and calmly asked for one. Instead, the betrayal and confusion overwhelmed him, and he let them take over.

He was too consumed by how much shock and pain he might feel. He had no resilience to the wounds others could inflict. No one had ever truly hurt him before. Even if they had tried, he didn’t let it touch him. Afraid of getting hurt, he rejected Woojin in a panic. And Woojin didn’t try to understand him.

He entered a restaurant that served pork belly and soju. It was late, so there weren’t many customers.

“Are you alone?”

He nodded, and the server led him to a corner table. Before the ajumma could tell him they didn’t serve single portions, he ordered two servings of pork belly and a bottle of soju.

He poured the clear soju, took a sip, and grilled the meat. The sizzling sound filled the silence as he stared blankly at the cooking meat, chewing on a piece that wasn’t fully cooked yet.

“Oh! Aren’t you that person from before? Hello!”

Someone recognized him, and he looked up. His gloomy face didn’t brighten at the sight of her smile. Thinking hard, he eventually remembered her. She was the ponytail-haired woman who had once asked for his autograph at this very restaurant.

Though she remembered him, he didn’t feel even a flicker of happiness. Internally, he let out a small sigh. She brought her friend over to his table.

“I’m not a celebrity or anything. That was just a joke because I was bored. I don’t want to talk, so please don’t sit here.”

He spoke coldly and poured himself another drink, filling the soju glass to the brim. The alcohol spilled over as he hurriedly gulped it down, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

One of his chopsticks fell to the floor with a sharp clatter. The ponytail-haired woman picked it up and set it aside, pulling a new one from the utensil holder to hand to him. He stared at her intently without taking it.

“You know, I looked up every actor from that drama, but I couldn’t find you. I even checked all the extras in other dramas from that network.”

He grabbed the chopstick from her and dipped a piece of pork into ssamjang, chewing it slowly. It had no taste.

His condition was getting worse. Ridiculously, he felt like crying. The meat that had once tasted so good now had no flavor at all, and that made him unbearably sad.

“So, you’re not a celebrity?”

“I told you I’m not. Do I resemble anyone famous? Why are you saying such nonsense?”

He asked irritably. She, already tipsy, replied unabashedly.

“No, it’s just… You don’t have an ordinary look.”

“I know I’m good-looking.”

He meant it sarcastically, but the ponytail-haired woman and her friend laughed as if he’d cracked a joke.

Lee Jinyeong had fallen for him at first sight. Hyun Woojin, on the other hand, had met him several times but didn’t immediately recognize him. It took Woojin time to remember him. Despite saying he knew he was attractive, he couldn’t help but wonder if he really was.

When he stiffened his face with a gloomy expression, the ponytail-haired woman and her friend quickly suppressed their laughter. Yet, as if his dismal glare was some sort of invitation, they shamelessly sat down at his table, grabbing chopsticks and spoons for themselves.

“Drinking alone makes you feel more down. The soybean paste stew here is amazing—have you tried it after your meal?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not interested in you, and I never will be.”

“Did something upset you?”

“What does it matter to you? I’ve only seen you twice in my life.”

“You’re so cute. How old are you?”

“……”

He said Haewon was cute. He had said it in words and also expressed it by gently patting his head as if to say he was adorable. Normally, nothing felt as unpleasant as someone touching his head, but when he patted Haewon’s head, Haewon stayed still. Sometimes, he even tilted his head slightly toward Hyun Woojin, hoping for him to pat it more. At those times, Woojin would smile tenderly and pat Haewon’s head longer.

He had such warm hands. People with warm hands are said to have warm hearts and kind souls. Why had Haewon overlooked such a scientific truth?

He missed Hyun Woojin. Unbearably so.

Woojin hadn’t done anything wrong; Haewon was the one at fault, the one who caused the breakup. Yet, he suddenly wanted to hurl curses at Woojin.

“Bastard……”

“I’ve eaten as much as you, if not more.”

“Are you over thirty-two? I’m thirty-two.”

“……”

He glanced at her. The ponytail-haired woman had curly hair tied back and clear, smooth skin. She looked younger than thirty-two. These days, it was hard to judge age by appearance alone. When Haewon didn’t answer, she grinned mischievously, a smirk full of teasing.

“You’re younger than me, aren’t you?”

“Do you think I’d reveal personal information to someone I’ve only seen twice in my life?”

“So, you’re younger than me, right?”

“And what if I am? What if I’m not?”

“If you’re younger, I’ll treat you to drinks.”

Their cheeks were already flushed, likely from splitting half a bottle of soju. Haewon poured himself another drink into his empty glass and downed it in one gulp. Every time he drank, some of the soju spilled messily. He wiped his wet chin with his hand.

“Did something bad happen?”

“Get lost, lady.”

“I can listen if you want. Tell me.”

“For god’s sake, really.”

“Hey, why the hell are you swearing? If you don’t want to talk, fine! I just felt bad seeing you drinking alone, so I tried to make conversation. But you’re so rude. What a pathetic little bastard.”

Despite her appearance, the ponytail-haired woman cursed viciously, and her friend glared at Haewon with sharp eyes. Haewon wanted to just storm off because of the unpleasantness, but he couldn’t muster the energy to do so. Strangely, hearing her emotional outburst and insults made him feel slightly relieved.

Damn it, bastard, Hyun Woojin, you’re a bastard. It’s my fault, but you’re the one making me feel like this, so you’re the bastard. Stupid bastard.

Suddenly, he felt an urge to say those words directly to Hyun Woojin. Even though they had broken up and he was coming to terms with it, even though he had no intention of seeing him again, he felt like he had to say it.

Haewon poured himself another drink and drank it down. “Sigh,” he muttered, wiping his chin and lips before rubbing his soju-wet hand against his thigh. His face flushed as the alcohol kicked in.

“……Then call this number for me.”

Haewon rummaged through the pocket of his discarded coat, took out his phone, and pulled up Hyun Woojin’s number, showing it to her.

“Who is it?”

“A bastard. Someone who ruined my mood.”

“Are you sure it’s okay to just call him? My number will show up.”

“It’s fine. Just try. Let’s see if he answers.”

The ponytail-haired woman hesitated before pulling out her phone. She memorized the number on Haewon’s screen and dialed it, pressing the call button. The speakerphone blared the ringing tone. Haewon, the ponytail-haired woman, and her friend leaned in together, ears focused on the phone.

― Hello?

“……”

The ponytail-haired woman looked at Haewon. He gestured for her to stay quiet, putting a finger to his lips, and focused all his attention on Hyun Woojin’s voice.

― Hello? Please say something.

“……”

He remained silent. It seemed Woojin was checking the unfamiliar number. When there was no response, Woojin hung up. Hearing his voice made Haewon’s chest ache. As his voice echoed in Haewon’s ears, he realized how much he had missed it, the pain tightening in his heart.

Hello. Hello. Please say something.

The low melody of Guarnieri, the soft bass, and the voice heard through a machine sounded even more sorrowful, perhaps because it had been refracted once. The voice could neither be grasped nor confined. Who would have thought that a voice, without substance, could hold such immense waves?

“Call again.”

“That voice is scary. Who is it? What’s going on?”

The ponytail friend, visibly nervous from the unsettling voice on the call, asked with concern.

“It’s the bastard who scammed me.”

“Isn’t it the other way around? Why would the victim secretly call the scammer?”

“I just wanted to check if he’s still using that number. I’ll report him for fraud. So, call again. This time, record his voice and send it to me. I need evidence.”

Despite her reluctance to believe Haewon’s incredible story, the ponytail friend, emboldened by alcohol, dialed Hyun Woojin’s number again. She turned on the speakerphone and started recording. After a few rings, he answered.

― Yes.

“……”

― Hello. Please speak. There’s no need to worry about eavesdropping.

At the mention of eavesdropping, everyone’s eyes widened, and they all turned to Haewon.

― I assure you that personal safety, rewards, and further measures will be guaranteed in line with whistleblower protection. Hello?

The ponytail friend’s eyes shook wildly, asking what to do. Haewon pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence.

― Is it difficult to speak right now? I’ll begin location tracking using this number.

Before Haewon could stop her, the ponytail friend, startled, ended the call abruptly.

“What’s going on? Is he the police? You said he was a scammer.”

“He is a scammer. Why’d you hang up? We needed to hear more.”

“He’s the police, isn’t he?”

“He’s not the police. Send me the recording.”

Feeling regret for her actions, the ponytail friend complained about possibly being arrested, but still sent the audio file to Haewon. He downloaded it, played the recording, and brought his phone close to his ear to hear the voice more clearly.

― Yes.

― Hello. Please speak. There’s no need to worry about eavesdropping.

― I assure you that personal safety, rewards, and further measures will be guaranteed in line with whistleblower protection. Hello?

― Is it difficult to speak right now? I’ll begin location tracking using this number.

He listened to the voice twice in a row. It sounded like sweet music. Oblivious to how foolish his actions might seem, he continued to savor the voice.

How wonderful it would be if that voice called his name again.

No matter how many times he replayed it, the longing didn’t subside. Instead, he marveled at how good the voice was, as if realizing it anew. Hyun Woojin’s voice was so wonderful. Why had he let go of something so good so easily? He was a fool. He forgot his intent to curse him out and kept listening to the voice repeatedly, as if admiring it.

“Hey, are you the scammer? I don’t trust you. Shouldn’t you call back and admit it was a prank? What if the real police show up? Isn’t it easy to track a phone by its number? Should we just turn off the phone?”

“No way. It was probably just a scare tactic, thinking it was a prank call. He’s a scammer, so he lied.”

“That voice didn’t sound like it was joking, though.”

The ponytail friend and her companion argued over whether to confess or to ignore it as a joke. Meanwhile, Haewon played Hyun Woojin’s voice over ten times.

By the time they had brushed off the prank call as trivial and downed about two bottles of soju, the door of the shop slid open with a creak, and two men with rough appearances walked in.

“Is the owner of the phone with the number ending in 5502 here?”

The ponytail friend’s companion smacked her arm in alarm. The two men exchanged glances and walked directly to Haewon’s table, seeing his stiff expression and the ponytail friend’s wide-eyed panic.

“Is this the phone with the number ending in 5502?”

“What? Oh, no! I’m sorry. It was a prank call. I’m really sorry. I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

The ponytail friend stood up and bowed deeply, apologizing. The man, whose rough appearance already made him intimidating, let out a sigh so loud and frustrated that everyone in the shop could hear, ending it with a muttered curse.

The entire shop fell silent as if cold water had been poured over it. The worker peeling garlic alternated his wary gaze between the rough-looking man and their table.

The ponytail friend, pale with fear, turned to Haewon, silently pleading for him to say something. Haewon looked at her, now caught in an unpleasant situation, and downed a shot of soju.

“It was just a prank call?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I really didn’t think you’d actually come. I’m so sorry. It was just a silly prank.”

Unable to lift her head, the ponytail friend repeatedly apologized to the men. The rough-looking man took out his phone and made a call.

“This is Detective Kim Seokho from the Violent Crimes Unit. Yes, we’ve located them, but it seems to have been a prank call. It’s just a young lady, a civilian drinking with friends. What should we do?”

He asked the person on the other end what to do about the ponytail friend. It didn’t seem like something that could be resolved with just an apology. The ponytail friend looked like she was about to cry, and her companion, flushed red, fidgeted anxiously, glaring at Haewon.

“So, how did you get that number and decide to make a prank call?”

Without ending the call, the man asked the ponytail friend. She turned sharply to Haewon, glaring. Seeing her gaze shift to him, the man also turned to Haewon.

“Let me talk to them.”

Haewon stood up and held out his hand. Detective Kim Seokho, with a suspicious look, handed over his phone. Haewon brought it to his ear.

“I did it.”

― ……

There was no response. Haewon imagined the face on the other end must look far grimmer than the one Kim Seokho had made earlier.

“I said, I did it.”

― Who are you?

Anger surged at the cold reply, while at the same time, his heart sank. While Haewon was struggling so much, unable to eat or enjoy a delicious meal, Hyun Woojin simply asked who he was, as if it didn’t matter. Haewon mimicked Woojin’s frosty tone.

“You don’t know? Fine, forget it.”

― Hand the phone back to Detective Kim.

Ignoring the pointed stares questioning his actions, Haewon kept the phone to his ear.

― Hand the phone back to him.

“Is that all you have to say?”

― Just hand over the phone.

“How is this my fault? Who acted in a way that made it easy to misunderstand? Anyone would’ve made the same mistake in that situation.”

― Stop escalating this and hand over the phone.

Woojin’s tone remained cold and unchanging, devoid of any emotional fluctuation. His voice carried no warmth, consistently ignoring Haewon and treating his existence as irrelevant.

“…I’m sorry.”

Haewon’s voice trembled like paper as he swallowed his grief and apologized—not for making the prank call but for not trusting him, for hurting his feelings. It was an apology born of regret and a desperate plea for reconciliation.

The line had already gone dead. Haewon stared blankly at the disconnected phone.

Detective Kim Seokho took his phone back with a perplexed expression. Shortly after, his phone rang again. Despite his intimidating appearance, he answered the call with extreme politeness.

“Yes, Prosecutor. Oh, I see. No, no, it’s fine. Please don’t worry about it. Really, it’s no problem. We just happened to be nearby, that’s all.”

It seemed Hyun Woojin was apologizing profusely, to the point where even Kim Seokho looked embarrassed. Haewon, however, couldn’t focus on the situation. Woojin’s unfamiliar voice, so cold it felt like ice shards piercing his throat, echoed in his mind.

Even after he apologized, Woojin had simply hung up. It felt as if Haewon’s heart had dropped to the restaurant floor, only to be trampled on by strangers. He had clung to Woojin, but his plea was dismissed. His mind went blank.

After finishing the call with Woojin, Kim Seokho muttered something to his colleague, glancing at Haewon as he did so. The colleague, after listening, smirked and whispered back, occasionally looking Haewon’s way.

“Maybe the prosecutor’s taking revenge for being sent for a psych evaluation.”

“Some people are just like that.”

Kim Seokho, previously smirking, shifted to a stern and intimidating demeanor.

“Don’t ever pull a prank like this again. If it happens again, you’ll face consequences.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I swear, I’ll never, ever do it again. I’m truly sorry. Would you like a piece of meat?”

Feeling guilty for making the police come for no reason, the ponytail woman quickly made a lettuce wrap stuffed with thick pieces of meat and offered it to Kim Seokho. His eyes twitched at the sight of the wrap, and with a grimace, he turned away with his colleague. As they left the restaurant, the previously quiet room erupted into noise.

“Hey! What the hell was that? We almost got arrested because of you! Who did you even call?”

The ponytail woman shouted at Haewon. Her friend gently grabbed her arm and whispered something to her, just like Kim Seokho had whispered to his colleague earlier. Her eyes, which had initially been filled with anger toward Haewon, softened into pity.

“What are you whispering about?”

Haewon asked, noticing their strange looks. The ponytail woman’s friend tore apart a piece of kimchi with her chopsticks and replied.

“They said you were detained for a psychiatric evaluation.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

It was what Kim Seokho had mentioned earlier. It seemed like Hyun Woojin had explained to the police that Haewon was pulling prank calls as a form of revenge because of being detained for a psychiatric evaluation.

“You don’t know? You’re the one who got evaluated.”

“I’m asking what it means! What is a psychiatric evaluation detention? Are they saying my mind and emotions are childish?”

Haewon genuinely didn’t know and asked out of confusion. The ponytail woman and her friend burst into laughter, their stomachs hurting from laughing so hard. Their lively demeanor quickly forgot how close they had been to getting arrested.

“You’re seriously adorable.”

“Yeah, totally cute.”

“What is this nonsense, ladies?”

Feeling like they were intentionally withholding information, Haewon searched on his phone.

Psychiatric Evaluation Detention: A compulsory measure to detain the defendant in a hospital or other suitable location for a certain period to evaluate their mental or physical state.

“You bastard…”

Hyun Woojin had essentially told the police that Haewon was mentally unstable. The thought of being described like that made Haewon furious in a way that was hard to put into words.

Who does he think he is? Does he think I’m doing this because I have no one else to turn to?

Recalling how Woojin had coldly hung up even after he apologized only stoked Haewon’s anger further. The words he had said weren’t ones that came easily—they were spoken with the resolve of letting everything go.

If Woojin had even the slightest understanding of how much Haewon agonized in the brief moment before uttering those words, he wouldn’t have dismissed him so easily or labeled him a lunatic.

Haewon abruptly stood up, grabbed his coat, and ignored the ponytail woman shouting at him to pay before leaving the restaurant. Hailing a taxi, he headed to a casual bar near the hotel he frequented before meeting Hyun Woojin—a place known for gathering people with similar intentions.

The bar was exclusive, requiring membership or introduction, and was popular among professionals with disposable income, making it a reliable spot to meet people and achieve one’s goals.

After stepping out of the taxi and entering through the heavy glass doors, Haewon noticed that most of the table seats were already taken. The clientele, primarily in their late twenties to mid-thirties, with a few in their early forties, filled the place. Haewon took a seat at the oval-shaped open bar and ordered a Blue Margarita.

The bar was mostly quiet, save for a small group of men near a dartboard creating a bit of noise as they played. While waiting for his cocktail, Haewon headed to the restroom.

Looking in the mirror, he saw that he didn’t appear disheveled enough to be called a lunatic. Running water over his hair and slicking it back, he couldn’t understand why Hyun Woojin had broken up with him. That self-absorbed bastard thought he was the only one who mattered, but Haewon wasn’t bad-looking either.

“Ugh…”

Staring at his reflection, which seemed especially foolish today, Haewon sighed and shook his head. He tousled his hair again, ruining the neat style, and felt even more like a fool.

He splashed cold water on his face, caught up in his own turmoil. While Woojin didn’t even care, Haewon couldn’t stop obsessing over him, swayed by every word he said.

Returning to his seat, Haewon found his Blue Margarita waiting alongside his coat and phone. Drying his face with a paper towel, he sat down and took a small sip of the cocktail as if merely tasting it.

He picked up his phone and played an audio file the ponytail woman had sent him. Pressing it to his ear to hear over the bar’s music, Haewon listened to Woojin’s voice.

― Yes.

― Hello, go ahead. You don’t have to worry about wiretapping.

― I assure you protection and rewards for whistleblowers, as well as follow-up actions. Hello?

― Are you in a difficult situation? I’ll start tracking this number now.

Suddenly, tears threatened to fall. Determined not to cry, Haewon downed the rest of the cocktail in one go. The tequila burned his throat as it went down. A desperate thirst followed, prompting him to order a beer.

Unable to put down his phone, Haewon scrolled through old photos of Woojin. One image showed Woojin asleep, his sharply parted hair neatly styled. Seeing his face brought an involuntary smile to Haewon’s lips. He chuckled softly, flipping through more pictures.

He should have taken more pictures.

There weren’t many, so he kept flipping through the same ones over and over. Among them, he stared at one particular photo for a long time—a front-facing shot where Woojin’s handsome face was exceptionally clear.

He missed him.

Even though Woojin had treated him like a lunatic, he missed him so much it was driving him crazy. As he gulped down the beer the bartender brought, his eyes remained glued to the phone in his hand. The mix of soju, cocktails, beer, and all sorts of alcohol blurred his vision and slumped his posture. Haewon sat there, leaning on his elbow, looking down at Woojin’s face on the screen.

“What did I do so wrong? You didn’t know I talk like that? Why are you acting like this all of a sudden? Did calling you a dog offend you that much? If it upset you, you should’ve said something.”

If you had, I would’ve apologized…

I said I was sorry.

He mumbled to himself, half-complaining, speaking to no one. He placed the phone on the wooden standing table, staring at it endlessly until the screen went black. He quickly turned it back on, staring again, before slowly lowering his head and resting it on the table.

To others, it might have looked like he was slumping over, drunk, but Haewon pressed his lips close to the phone’s screen. He kissed Woojin’s face on the screen.

And then, he really wanted to cry.

Someone once said crying helps you forget. That crying washes away the longing, the resentment, the anger of being dumped—all of it.

“Excuse me, are you okay?”

A hand lightly tapped his back. Haewon raised his head and straightened his posture.

“You seem really drunk. Are you alright?”

“…”

Do you think I’m doing this because I have no one else to meet?

Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to say I was sorry, Hyun Woojin?

Do you know how big of a deal it is for me to skip violin practice, how serious that is for me?

The man speaking to him was one of the group who had been loudly throwing darts earlier. With one hand in his pants pocket, he had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms from enthusiastically playing darts. He was pleasant-looking, and most importantly, he appeared younger than Woojin.

“Are you okay?”

When Haewon only blinked and stared, the man leaned closer with a concerned expression, asking again.

“I’m fine. No, I’m not fine. Or maybe I am? I don’t know.”

“Sorry, what?”

Shaking his head, Haewon mumbled incoherently. The man smiled broadly, as if he found it amusing.

“I’m having drinks with friends. Want to join us?”

“Why would I drink with your friends?”

“Then… want to drink together, just the two of us?”

“I don’t feel like going anywhere.”

Haewon’s slurred response made the man glance back at his friends and gesture something. It seemed to mean “go have fun without me” or “leave me alone,” but it was clear he wanted them to handle things on their own.

As Haewon was about to slump back down on the table, the man grabbed his shoulder, pulling him upright. He kept holding on as if insisting he sit properly.

“Are you already drunk? You don’t seem to have drunk that much. Did you come here after drinking somewhere else?”

“What does it matter to you? You’re someone I’ve never even met before.”

People I’ve seen only twice have annoyed me, and now someone I’ve never even met is doing the same.

He hadn’t come here to meet someone just to show off to Woojin. That wasn’t the point. Now it all felt meaningless. He had thought meeting someone might help him forget Woojin, but even the attempt felt bothersome now. He had Woojin’s photos and voice on his phone. Tonight, he just wanted to look at his pictures and listen to his voice. He didn’t want anything else to interfere.

“You looked like you were about to collapse earlier.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

Haewon brushed the man’s hand off his shoulder, turned away, and leaned on his elbow while unlocking his phone. He found the audio file and played it. The sound was faint against the music in the bar.

Lying on the table, he pressed his ear close to the phone.

“Yes.”

He’s a friend of mine.

“Hello. Go ahead. There’s no need to worry about wiretapping.”

Moon Haewon will eventually come crawling back on all fours.

“We promise protection and compensation for whistleblowers, as well as follow-up actions. Hello?”

Should I start dating someone?

“Is it difficult for you to talk right now? I’ll start tracking your location using this number.”

I’ll buy you some bread.

As long as you gave your greetings properly, it’s fine. I’ll call you later.

And you have to play for me. Even if you don’t like playing in front of others, you have to for me.

His voice kept echoing in his mind. The alcohol warming his brain and body heightened his emotions, and it felt like one small push would bring tears spilling down his face.

You told me to undress only in front of you. For the first time in my life, I wanted to bare myself completely to someone, to you, and now you’re ending it like this? How am I supposed to handle this alone?

“Hey, are you asleep?”

The man who had been standing behind Haewon didn’t leave. He tapped Haewon’s back lightly and then brushed his hand down it. Feeling someone else’s touch, Haewon straightened his posture and called Hyun Woojin. The first and second calls went unanswered. By the third, the man’s hand still lingered on Haewon’s back and shoulder, gently stroking him.

When he called for the fourth time, Woojin finally picked up. He would probably scold him, telling him not to call again. But before Woojin could say anything, Haewon spoke first.

“Someone said they’d buy me bread. What do I do? Should I just take it? You told me not to, right? You said no one else was allowed, that you’d destroy them all. Is that not true anymore? Are we over? We were together for a year.”

“Don’t call me. You’re bothering me.”

“Are we really over?”

“I’ll block you. Erase my number too.”

“You told me not to undress in front of anyone else… Is it okay now?”

“Hang up.”

“Hyung…”

“…”

“I’m sorry. I… I was wrong.”

Tears fell down his cheeks. Trying not to let him hear the sound of his crying, Haewon wiped his face with the back of his hand and swallowed hard. His throat hurt.

“Was it really such a terrible thing, something worth ending this over? You know I talk without thinking.”

“Haewon.”

“I miss you. I miss you so much I could die.”

“This makes me uncomfortable.”

“You bastard.”

“…”

“Why is it so easy for you? I’m struggling so much, but for you, why is everything so easy?”

“Whether it was a misunderstanding or the truth, you were the one who turned your back on me.”

Haewon had expected him to say something like that, but hearing it in his voice shattered him.

“I was scared. Scared that it might be true, that you might really be that kind of person. Do you know how I felt at that moment? I didn’t know what to do.”

Haewon was clinging to him. The man who had been stroking his back and listening silently had disappeared at some point.

“Not knowing what to do means abandoning me?”

“That’s not it.”

“If it had been true? If I really had that kind of relationship with Hayoung’s brother, would abandoning me have been the right thing to do?”

“…”

“You treated me like trash.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Stop it. I’m hanging up.”

“W-Wait a second.”

The call ended. Tears fell one by one onto the black phone screen he stared at blankly. He bit his lip hard, trying to swallow his sobs, but each stifled cry only spilled out as more tears.

A handkerchief suddenly brushed against his face, wiping away his tears. Haewon looked up. The man who had disappeared earlier had returned, offering the handkerchief and dabbing at the corners of his eyes.

“Did you break up with your lover?”

“…”

“If it were me, I’d never break up with you… That guy’s completely insane.”

He took the handkerchief, faintly scented with a woody fragrance, and pressed it firmly to his eyes. His nose turned red, and so did the corners of his eyes. After wiping his nose, he returned the handkerchief to the man. Haewon then gathered his coat, put it on, and paid with his card.

When he stepped out of the bar, the cold air that signaled the transition from autumn to winter scratched his face and the back of his neck. The man, who had hurried after him, put on his coat outside and approached Haewon, who was standing absentmindedly.

“Care for another drink? Listening to others is my specialty.”

“No, thanks.”

“Don’t be like that. If you talk, you’ll feel better. I’ll even curse him out with you.”

“…”

“That jerk, bastard, idiot. I’m not just saying this—he really is crazy. Do you know that everyone in the bar was staring at you while you were crying and calling him?”

“They probably found it entertaining. Do you think they were staring because they felt sorry for a man crying while making a call?”

Still overwhelmed with sadness, hearing about his crying made him even more miserable. His eyes, on the verge of tears again, turned upward to the dark urban sky. He purposefully looked far away.

“It’s not that. People just can’t help but look. When someone is crying like that, they can’t stop staring. It’s because… you have that kind of face—one that draws attention.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes.”

The man replied in a sincere and trustworthy tone, as if he truly meant it.

“But why is that jerk acting this way? Why is he ending things? I said I was sorry, so why?”

“I told you—he’s crazy. When you said you were sorry earlier, even my heart melted.”

The man made a strange sound, rubbing his chest with his hand. An apology that moved someone else’s heart was useless when the intended recipient didn’t hear it. Hyun Woojin didn’t listen to the apology, the tears, the pleas, or the begging.

It really was over. The end of something that had begun with him turning away from Taeshin was nothing but this—messy and meaningless.

What am I supposed to do? He was the first person I truly liked, the first person I missed like this. What am I supposed to do now?

Ah, this is driving me crazy.

Haewon couldn’t see Hyun Woojin as just a passing trial of heartbreak. It was the first time his emotions and body had been so deeply drawn to one person.

He inhaled the cold air deeply into his lungs and exhaled. A long, white breath scattered in the air. Remembering Hyun Woojin’s cold voice as he mercilessly hung up the call, Haewon tightly closed and opened his eyes. In the end, he was someone Haewon would have to forget.

“What should I do?”

“About what?”

“How do I forget that jerk?”

“Hmm… Have a drink with me, and I’ll tell you.”

Haewon followed him, blankly staring at the man’s back. When his steps slowed, the man grabbed Haewon’s hand and led him. Before he knew it, he was walking hand in hand with a man he’d never met before, and they ended up in front of a door that looked like it belonged to a motel.

The man used a card key to open the door and pulled Haewon, who hesitated, inside.

Hyun Woojin’s cold and abrupt way of hanging up lacked even the bare minimum of politeness, let alone affection. His tone was so cold it sent chills down Haewon’s spine and made him give up. It was the kind of tone that made someone feel utterly rejected.

“Sit down. What do you want to drink? Soju, beer, whiskey—whatever you like.”

“Anything.”

It was Haewon’s first time in a motel, not a hotel. Aside from the oddly large bed for the room size and the glass-walled bathroom visible from outside, there didn’t seem to be much difference between the two.

The man took off his coat, hung it on a protruding hook on the wall, and made a call to order drinks and snacks. After giving the motel room number and hanging up, he approached Haewon, who was still standing there absentmindedly.

“Have a seat.”

He pointed to a green wing chair next to a small table. When he gestured for Haewon to take off his coat, Haewon handed it over, and the man hung it next to his own. As Haewon looked around unfamiliar surroundings, the man asked,

“Don’t tell me—it’s your first time in a place like this?”

“I never had a reason to come.”

“Really?”

Haewon must’ve looked like someone who frequented such places. The man sat in the wing chair opposite Haewon, asking again in disbelief,

“Then, where did you usually meet your ex? Normally?”

“At home.”