GBH 14

The father, an upright senior prosecutor, had the lifelong flaw of being the son-in-law of a chaebol family running a department store in Seoul. When he discovered his child’s violent tendencies, he took immediate action. He didn’t tolerate cunning behavior and demanded honesty.

Under this constant pressure, Se-kyung didn’t go astray. But he didn’t submit either. His suppressed nature, held back under his parents’ shadow, was dangerously close to erupting.

The seemingly mature Se-kyung was immature.

-Knock knock.

The knocking sound continued. Se-kyung got up and walked to the door. Due to the soundproofed room, words spoken inside didn’t reach outside. As Se-kyung turned the handle, the irritation on his face had already faded, replaced by a polite smile.

“What is it?”

Knowing that Se-kyung disliked being disturbed, the housekeeper nervously wrung her hands. Seeing that Se-kyung’s expression wasn’t bad as he came out, the housekeeper finally relaxed and showed a warm demeanor. But he still couldn’t keep his hands still, rubbing his arms. Upon closer look, the housekeeper’s arms were covered in goosebumps.

“Your friend is here, Se-kyung.”

“At this hour?”

Se-kyung checked the silent clock in his room. It was too late for someone to come without prior notice. With Se-kyung’s parents not yet back from their gathering, the housekeeper poured out her anxiety to Se-kyung.

“It’s a bit strange. Even when asked, they only say they’re your friend, but something seems off. In this weather, soaked without an umbrella… I think you should see them.”

In this cold, it wouldn’t be strange to call the police for someone drenched in rain and unable to communicate properly. Se-kyung thought hard but couldn’t think of anyone in his circle who would come in the middle of the night in the rain.

“I’ll go check. Stay here.”

“Will you?”

The relieved housekeeper handed Se-kyung an umbrella as he put on his coat. Passing through the entrance, Se-kyung turned on the intercom to see who was claiming to be a friend at this late hour. His previously faint frown deepened. Se-kyung immediately recognized the shivering, hunched figure outside the gate.

Song Yi-heon. Se-kyung recalled the situation of the boy who was outed at school for liking him. He grasped the situation roughly. And he wondered if this was really worth running here without an umbrella on a rainy night.

Did he really look at him so blatantly without preparing to be caught? It was unexpected that Hong Jae-min spread rumors without giving him time to act, but he had anticipated being discovered someday. After all, Yi-heon’s gaze had occasionally made his pores tingle.

Se-kyung, who had endured that persistent gaze for two years, wasn’t particularly pleased with this visit.

Stepping on the stones to keep his shoes dry from the rainwater, he descended the stairs at the end of the garden. Through the gap in the gate below, he could see Song Yi-heon sheltering from the rain under the eaves. When he saw him through the intercom earlier, he doubted it, but the housekeeper was right—he was wearing only white pajamas. The wet pajamas clinging to his skin were barely distinguishable from his pale complexion.

As if his senses were frozen, Yi-heon was chattering his teeth, unaware of Se-kyung’s arrival.

When he opened the gate after folding his umbrella, the installed sensor detected Choi Se-kyung and turned on the lights. Only then did Yi-heon turn his head. Through his wet, parted hair, part of his face, usually hidden by bangs, was visible. So that’s what he looks like, Se-kyung thought, wanting to look closer, but at that moment the sensor light went off, plunging them into darkness.

“Haa.”

Se-kyung couldn’t suppress his sigh. Song Yi-heon, frightened by just the sigh, hunched his shoulders. Seeing him with his head bowed, looking like a drowned rat, he lost the will to question or the energy to be angry. Choi Se-kyung first took off his coat and draped it over Yi-heon’s shoulders.

As warmth enveloped him, Yi-heon’s shivering lessened. Once he seemed somewhat calm, Se-kyung asked,

“What’s the matter?”

“……”

Despite having run through the rain in just pajamas, Yi-heon remained silent in front of Choi Se-kyung. Time passed, and the wind was cold. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Se-kyung could see the wet, glistening nape of his neck below the coat collar trembling finely. Although the coat added warmth, it didn’t dry what was already wet. He needed to properly dry his clothes and warm up. If they continued talking here, it’d end with him freezing to death, so Se-kyung pushed open the gate.

“Let’s go inside. You can wash up and call home.”

But Yi-heon didn’t budge. Unable to look directly at Choi Se-kyung, he frantically scanned the darkness on the ground. Se-kyung waited patiently. His life had been one of constant suppression, so he could wait until Yi-heon formed his resolve.

Finally, Yi-heon raised his head. Even in the darkness, where only silhouettes were discernible, a sense of determined resolution was conveyed.

“…I, I know what kind of person you are.”

That day, Song Yi-heon showed the greatest courage of his life.

It had been quite a while since he started experiencing sleepwalking symptoms, leaving the house while asleep. He would suddenly come to his senses and find himself wandering the streets in pajamas and barefoot, and it wasn’t surprising anymore. It felt like a natural process unfolding within ordinary days—feelings of frustration, resentment, and helplessness. Days of gradually going mad.

That day too was an ordinary one. It was just another day of precariously balancing on a sheet of paper amidst indifference, but he didn’t know where such an impulse came from. Perhaps it was because he regained consciousness near Choi Se-kyung’s house that day—a place he had secretly visited after coincidentally learning the address. Song Yi-heon stood there for a long time in the rain before impulsively walking through the splashing rainwater. With unfocused, blank eyes, he pressed the doorbell.

Not knowing what he wanted to do himself, he berated himself for calling out Choi Se-kyung even after ringing the bell. As he wavered, thinking about just running away, he saw Choi Se-kyung come out and instinctively realized why he had pressed the doorbell.

“You, you play with people. You don’t treat them sincerely. You toy with people’s emotions.”

When the artificially created smile was withdrawn, his eyes revealed a lack of emotion, dry and indifferent. Thanks to his persistent observation during two years of unrequited love, Song Yi-heon had noticed Choi Se-kyung’s true nature. In unguarded moments, when no one was watching Choi Se-kyung standing in the center of the group, his eyes became emotionless.

Once he became aware, he saw Se-kyung’s true nature everywhere. Things like superficial kindness, maintaining appropriate distance while subtly avoiding others, and the annoyed look after rejecting someone who was sincere.

Even knowing his true nature, he still liked Choi Se-kyung. He was drawn to him. Unlike himself, who was always swayed by his surroundings, Se-kyung’s ability to handle situations skillfully and control circumstances seemed impressive. There was probably also a sense of superiority—the feeling that he alone knew Choi Se-kyung that others didn’t.

But even unrequited love needs some leeway. As he was tormented by Hong Jae-min’s gang and outed, Song Yi-heon was backed into a corner. In a life where each day was hell, his unrequited love withered. The urge to wield what he had loved as a weapon was a survival instinct.

Song Yi-heon wanted to escape this living hell, even if it meant using the Choi Se-kyung he loved.

“If you don’t do as I say, I’ll expose you. I’ll tell everyone. They’ll, they’ll all be creeped out by you, you know?”

After making such a bold threat, Song Yi-heon trembled like an aspen leaf. He glanced nervously at Se-kyung’s reaction. When Se-kyung stepped closer, his chest nearly pressing against Yi-heon’s sweater, Yi-heon instinctively retreated, only to hit the cold, hard wall behind him.

Trapped between the cold wall and Se-kyung’s imposing presence, Yi-heon’s chin and lips quivered uncontrollably.

“Yi-heon, if you need help, just ask for it. Don’t make people uncomfortable like this.”

Se-kyung’s words struck deep, sending a rush of heat through Yi-heon. As his body grew warmer, a new wave of cold overwhelmed him. His wet coat felt like ice against his skin.

Yes, as Se-kyung said, he needed help. He needed help to overcome this nightmarish reality. But having never received help before, Song Yi-heon didn’t even know if that’s what he truly needed. Only after being called out did he finally realize how pathetic his actions had been. Just how insane he’d become.

Humiliation swept over him. Standing in front of Choi Se-kyung, he felt even more ashamed than the time Hong Jae-min had nearly stolen his money.

“……”

A trembling incomparable to when he was shivering in the rain came over him. Song Yi-heon twisted his body, trying to escape from between the wall and the chest. He was too ashamed to lift his head.

“Song Yi-heon.”

When Se-kyung grabbed Song Yi-heon’s shoulders, he felt a struggle, a twisting motion trying to shake him off. A brief physical tussle ensued. When Se-kyung finally managed to hold Yi-heon’s shoulders in place, moonlight broke through the cracks in the storm clouds, illuminating the scene. Yi-heon, pale as a corpse, lifted his tear-streaked face.

In his eyes, filled with despair, regret, and emptiness, a glimmer of resentment surfaced. A single tear of resentment fell, carving a deep scar into Se-kyung’s heart.

Shocked by the person’s despair, Se-kyung was momentarily stunned, and Yi-heon shook off the arms holding his shoulders and ran out.

“Hey…!”

He tried to grab him, but all that remained in Se-kyung’s hand was the coat, heavy with rainwater.

Yi-heon ran into the rain, and Se-kyung followed without time to open his umbrella. But he couldn’t catch Yi-heon, who had been running around the neighborhood every night, now running almost weightlessly in his unsound state. Though Se-kyung ran with all his might, the silhouette in white pajamas grew smaller and smaller.

Rainwater obscured his vision, and wet eyelashes pricked his eyes. In the few moments it took to wipe his eyes, Yi-heon had disappeared without a trace. The loose knit Se-kyung wore absorbed the rainwater, adding weight like sandbags. Finally stopping under a streetlight, Se-kyung shouted.

“I’ll help you! I’ll help, so come out!”

But the pouring rain not only erased Yi-heon’s traces but also swallowed Choi Se-kyung’s voice. Relying on the streetlight, Se-kyung looked around. The ends of the alleyways branching in various directions were wrapped in darkness like monsters ready to swallow people.

“Song Yi-heon!”

Se-kyung grew anxious. Breathing heavily, he shouted once more. But neither Yi-heon nor anyone else in the residential area responded. In the rain pelting his skin, it seemed as if no one existed. That night, Choi Se-kyung failed to find Song Yi-heon, who had climbed onto the pedestrian overpass.