GBH 85

Swapping soup bowls wasn’t typical between friends, so Yi-heon discretely observed Choi Myung-hyun. However, Myung-hyun was busy pushing fluffy rolled eggs towards his son, who was eating in small bites due to the pain from his lip and tongue injuries. It was one of the few side dishes that could be eaten without aggravating the wounds.

Despite this kind consideration, Choi Se-kyung didn’t touch his chopsticks.

Se-kyung had said he didn’t get along well with his father, but that didn’t seem to be the whole story. Is this why they say you should hear both sides? Yi-heon bit the end of his chopsticks as he examined Choi Myung-hyun as a father, not a prosecutor.

He didn’t resemble Se-kyung. While Se-kyung was delicate, Myung-hyun’s deep-set eye hollows and sharp jawline gave him a dignified appearance far from delicacy. His impression, exuding a strong musk scent, wasn’t that of an easily approachable person.

Sensing Yi-heon stealing glances at him, Myung-hyun finally smiled gently.

“Eat comfortably.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you.”

Perhaps because Yi-heon was his son’s friend, Myung-hyun showed a kindness Yi-heon had never seen during his gangster days. Kim Deukpal, you’ve made it big, eating at the same table with a prosecutor. Yi-heon smirked as he scooped up some soup.

“I hear you’re in the same class as Se-kyung.”

“Yes, I receive a lot of help from him.”

The spoon sank back into the soup bowl. Yi-heon’s tense posture resembled that of a man asking his future father-in-law for permission to marry, but there was no melodrama about giving or not giving away a daughter. Instead, to ease any discomfort at the dining table, warm conversation flowed.

The only regret was that with Choi Se-kyung present, they couldn’t have a frank discussion. They couldn’t talk about violent organizations or morgues in front of a high school student, so the truly interesting topics couldn’t be broached. But then Myung-hyun threw a curveball.

“So, it seems you’ve found the Chilseong faction.”

It was as the rice bowls were nearly empty. Myung-hyun had deduced what had happened the night before, using Yi-heon’s injured face and Se-kyung’s bitten lips as evidence. This also meant that he knew Se-kyung had been going out with Yi-heon every night, but hadn’t yet been informed about yesterday’s events.

“Father.”

“That’s also the reason you two have been going out every night lately.”

“Shouldn’t you ask me first?”

Se-kyung spoke seriously. Yi-heon also rubbed his goosebump-covered arms, chilled by the realization that he too had been under surveillance.

“We talked when I came down to get water. If you were curious, you should have asked then.”

“Hey, don’t.”

Yi-heon grabbed Se-kyung’s wrist under the table to stop him. Myung-hyun’s eyebrows rose at this, but he didn’t attach much significance to it, unlike when they had swapped soup bowls. More than such trivial matters, his son sneaking out every night was a bigger issue.

“Se-kyung, how much longer do I have to wait for you to tell me yourself?”

“I didn’t know what to say when you already know everything. Do you really need to hear it from me?”

While Yi-heon was busy trying to follow the conversation, not suspecting that Myung-hyun had set up surveillance, Se-kyung, who had lived his entire life under Myung-hyun’s watchful eye, responded sarcastically.

“That’s right.”

Myung-hyun placed his interlocked arms on the table.

“If I didn’t know, it would have been impossible to wait. Sneaking out every night, coming back with injuries like today – what parent would just sit back and wait?”

“It’s my fault. I was short-sighted. I’m sorry.”

Whether out of a sense of camaraderie from their shared experiences, or forgetting how he had threatened to tattle on Se-kyung to Myung-hyun when Se-kyung had insisted on coming along, Yi-heon stepped up to defend Se-kyung.

“Se-kyung couldn’t leave me alone because he was worried about me. It’s not Se-kyung’s fault.”

However, Se-kyung didn’t like Yi-heon making excuses in the first place. This time, Se-kyung gripped Yi-heon’s hand tightly, telling him not to. As Myung-hyun stared intently at their clasped hands under the table, Yi-heon, surprised to realize he had been holding Se-kyung’s hand all this time, quickly let go. He rubbed his thigh where the sensation of Se-kyung’s tight grip lingered.

Perhaps because of this, Myung-hyun focused on Yi-heon rather than Se-kyung.

“Last winter, a gang member died. He was an influential person, so even I couldn’t believe he was dead and went to the morgue to confirm.”

“……”

So that’s why he was at the morgue then. As the mystery of Myung-hyun’s presence at the morgue was solved, Yi-heon was drawn into his words.

“After that, there were territorial disputes among the gangs, and the Chilseong faction was disbanded. It seems they’re gathering in Seoul again recently, but if they disperse quietly, we won’t pursue them.”

“……”

“That should be enough. I hope there won’t be any more sneaking out at night from now on. There shouldn’t be any more injuries either.”

Myung-hyun met the eyes of the two across from him in turn.

“Neither Se-kyung, nor you, Yi-heon.”

Yi-heon discovered the only similarity between Myung-hyun and Se-kyung. Their black eyes held an endless darkness that seemed to swallow the other person. Feeling like he might be swallowed by Myung-hyun, Yi-heon instinctively realized:

Myung-hyun didn’t view the Song Yi-heon he had seen at the morgue as ordinary, and he would also be keeping an eye on Yi-heon’s relationship with the Chilseong faction, which he had learned about while monitoring Choi Se-kyung.

It felt like a snake crawling over his skin.

* * *

After finishing their meal, the two of them went up to Se-kyung’s room. When they pulled back the half-drawn blackout curtains, a flood of light poured in, brightening the dim room as if they had passed through a tunnel. As he tied back the curtains, Se-kyung apologized for the argument during the meal.

“I’m sorry. That’s why I said you could refuse.”

“It’s fine. That’s just how the prosecutor is. And it was my fault for being out late in the first place.”

Song Yi-heon sat in the desk chair and flipped through the documents he had been reading. Putting himself in Choi Myung-hyun’s position, he found it unsettling but not offensive. Asking a prosecutor to take the side of gangsters was comedic, and Myung-hyun had been quite lenient. However, Se-kyung’s sharp reaction bothered him.

“You said you don’t get along with your father, right?”

Hadn’t he said he disliked him because he was oppressive? But it was Choi Myung-hyun who had allowed him to confirm Kim Deuk-pal’s death at the morgue. Given that he let him confirm the death without touching the corpse, he didn’t seem like someone who would unconditionally oppress his child. Was there something else? Song Yi-heon glanced sideways at Se-kyung as he perched on the bed.

“I’m far too inadequate to meet my father’s standards.”

At Se-kyung’s sneer, Song Yi-heon recalled the look in Choi Myung-hyun’s eyes as he watched his son, then quickly dismissed it. The weight of emotional burdens varies depending on who carries them. Just as he hoped his own burdens wouldn’t be seen as trivial, Song Yi-heon didn’t doubt or deny the weight of Se-kyung’s burdens.

Everyone has circumstances others don’t know about. Just like how Kim Deukpal was unaware of the complex interests intertwined with Song Yi-heon’s birth as an illegitimate child. He clicked his tongue, saying morning drama writers should step up their game given the newly discovered details of Song Yi-heon’s family history. He then pulled out a document and waved it between his index and middle fingers.

“Is this mine too, by any chance?”

It was a DNA test result. Se-kyung turned pale as he belatedly remembered the DNA test with the hidden documents. Song Yi-heon’s eyes narrowed.

“You little… No wonder you seemed so confident.”

However, it also meant Se-kyung was that desperate, and he hadn’t done the DNA test with bad intentions. He decided to be generous and flipped the DNA test results over.

“I can understand getting my mother’s, or rather, Song Min’s sample since you see her often, but how did you get the chairman’s?”

“…Hair. From my grandfather’s funeral.”

“The one we were contacted about from Gangneung?”

“Yes, he came to pay respects.”

As Song Yi-heon asked without anger, Se-kyung relaxed and answered candidly.

“It wasn’t the first time I met him at the funeral. I see him occasionally.”

“All these people?”

“I’m acquainted with them.”

Se-kyung nodded as Song Yi-heon looked at the documents spread out like a fan. As a student, he didn’t go often, but he had at least exchanged greetings with these figures from political and business circles.

“Then can you arrange a meeting with this person?”

Song Yi-heon pointed to a woman’s photo in the documents. Se-kyung stared at it intently, even reciting the name to confirm if it was really this person.

“Is it not possible?”

“It’s not impossible, but…”

Wondering why this person in particular, Se-kyung’s doubts quickly vanished as he thought of a way to use Song Yi-heon’s request to her advantage. Suddenly, Se-kyung let out a groan, covering her lips.

“Ah… I must have hurt my tongue. It hurts.”

Her eyes, glistening with tears, were convincing, but the timing was suspicious after bearing with it until now. As expected, Se-kyung hinted at what he wanted in exchange for granting the favor.

“They say applying saliva helps heal wounds.”

“So what? You want me to apply saliva?”

Having been fooled so many times, Song Yi-heon wasn’t falling for it anymore. As Song Yi-heon snorted, thinking “Nice acting, Choi Se-kyung,” Se-kyung went a step further and boldly demanded. Her pronunciation was clear despite claiming her tongue hurt.

“Kiss me.”

“…Hey, if you keep charging ahead recklessly like this in life-“

He’d been outsmarted again by that brazen high school student. Song Yi-heon was about to lecture her but seemed to have a different thought. He closed his opened mouth and stood in front of the bed where Se-kyung sat.

“Alright.”

Se-kyung, who had played the prank expecting to get hit, was now unsure if this was a dream or reality upon hearing the affirmative response. Song Yi-heon stood with Se-kyung between his legs and pushed her shoulders. Caught off guard, Se-kyung fell back onto the bed, making the mattress bounce.

Song Yi-heon bent over Se-kyung. His face, which had been bright in the sunlight, grew darker with shadows as it drew closer.

Se-kyung squeezed her eyes shut as Song Yi-heon’s lips, propped up by his hand next to her ear, seemed about to touch hers. However, this had the opposite effect of heightening her other senses. Now Se-kyung was acutely aware of Song Yi-heon’s presence with her whole body, his knees between her waist.

A warm breeze blew through the open window. The t-shirt Song Yi-heon had borrowed belonged to Se-kyung. As the familiar scent mixed with Song Yi-heon’s own, Se-kyung felt a warmth in her lower abdomen. He held her breath, trying not to reveal her ragged breathing. Just as he felt Song Yi-heon’s hot breath on her lips, making them quiver – Thwack!

“Ugh-“

A sharp pain spread across her forehead as Song Yi-heon flicked it. Se-kyung opened her eyes, clutching her forehead, with a look of reproach. Song Yi-heon got up with a mischievous grin, looking triumphant.

“Come back when you’re older.”

“It hurts.”

He rarely heard Se-kyung complain, so he gently rubbed her forehead and ruffled her black hair. As he stroked her scalp affectionately, a smile softened his sharp gaze. Song Yi-heon finally said what he had wanted to say all along.

He needed to apologize too, but this was what he wanted to say more:

“Thank you.”

As the walls he had built in preparation for his soul’s disappearance crumbled, his gaze looking down at Se-kyung lying there couldn’t hide his affection.

* * *

Once, Kim Dong-soo had complained about their organization’s name being Chilseong-pa. While neighboring factions had cool names like Baekho-pa (White Tiger) or Heukryong-pa (Black Dragon), and even non-animal names like Heukmoo-pa or Seodaemun-pa, their group was stuck with Chilseong-pa – Seven Stars, also a carbonated drink brand.

Like a child whining that the neighbors get to eat army stew with imported sausages while their family always eats smelly fermented soybean paste, Kim Dong-soo was dissatisfied with the organization’s name.