The grounds of a high school near the office building were quiet. Not only was it a period when students were absent, but it was also the last day of the year, so a very tranquil atmosphere prevailed. In the small auditorium—the only space filled with people—Yunshin was surrounded by children. After looking around at the students sitting in a circle, their eyes shining toward him, he expressed his intention to wrap up the special lecture at this point.
“Then, shall we end the lecture with just a Q&A? Anyone with a question?”
When Yunshin asked gently, a girl raised her hand and asked.
“Trial scenes in dramas and movies are super intense. Do prosecutors and lawyers actually fight like that?”
He pondered the answer in his head for a moment, then opened his mouth.
“Well, it differs case by case. It’s rare to see people asserting themselves so fiercely or fighting like in the media. We’re all seniors and juniors in the same industry, so we’re quite careful with our words. Let me give you a criminal case example. The fact that a defendant is standing in court means the police investigation is over, the case has been transferred to the prosecution, and they’ve been indicted. That means the prosecutor has evidence that this person is the culprit. Generally speaking.”
Yunshin made eye contact with the focused students and added.
“Prosecutors are really incredibly busy. Because people that busy have determined, ‘This is definitely a crime,’ and sent it to the court, lawyers tend to take a route aimed at reducing the sentence rather than proving innocence. So, things that overturn the verdict don’t happen often. Have you ever seen a real trial?”
Most of the children immediately shook their heads.
“Courtrooms themselves are open. Unless it’s proceeding in closed session, anyone can come. I hope you get a chance to observe one later. If you apply for a program at our corporate law firm, they’ll probably let you accompany us.”
One of the boys, who had been mulling over Yunshin’s earnest answer, asked playfully.
“Your Honor! Why do they even do that? It looks pointless.”
Yunshin laughed shortly without bothering to deny it.
“They don’t actually say that in court as often as in dramas, do they? Maybe if it’s in writing. The reason for doing it is because that person will deliver the verdict. Of course, passing judgment based on the law is fundamental, but judges are human too. Its biggest role is making the judge feel respected. It really does look pointless. Any other questions?”
The room fell quiet. Memories surfaced of when he was young and had been unable to ask questions even when the floor was given to him, fidgeting awkwardly. He watched the children with an amused affection, when suddenly a girl pushed up her glasses and asked seriously.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
A tender smile settled on Yunshin’s lips as Seheon’s face suddenly came to mind. Not long ago, when his sister had asked a similar question, he had clearly denied it. Because it had been true. But now, he found himself considering a different answer. He no longer had any reluctance.
“Yes, well. I have something like that.”
“So do you have a girlfriend or not?”
“There’s someone I like. That’s what I’m saying.”
He answered more clearly and checked his wristwatch. At first, he saw the girls—who had been bright-eyed—gathering in threes and fives, whispering with rather disappointed expressions, but he pretended not to notice.
“Now then, shall we get going to lunch? I have work, so I probably can’t go with you. I’ll buy you all whatever you want to eat. Eat as much as you like.”
The children were truly children. As if they had never sulked, the excited girls and the boys who simply seemed happy the boring lecture was over all gathered their belongings. Yunshin laughed shortly as he stared at their uniform, thick padded jackets, then separately called over the club representative and subtly hinted that they should contact him after ordering at the restaurant.
Yunshin patted the head of the nodding child and sent each of the departing students off with a wave. Clip-clop. The light sounds of footsteps gradually faded. Yunshin, who had belatedly grabbed his coat and briefcase, also came outside.
“Chilly.”
Hunching his shoulders, he looked out the hallway window; the sun was still high in the sky.
What was Kang Seheon doing right now?
Even on Christmas Eve and on the holiday itself, Seheon hadn’t made time for him, but Yunshin hadn’t been very upset. Because he had known exactly where Seheon was and what he was doing.
On Christmas Eve, he had been cooped up in the company from breakfast meetings to night meetings without a moment’s rest, and on Christmas, despite it being a public holiday, he had met with a client alongside a foreign attorney at Mihui’s request. The memory of the message Seheon had left on his way home at dawn, which Yunshin had checked the next morning after dozing off waiting for news, came back vividly.
He had endured all of that, but somehow being left alone even on a day like this got on his nerves.
‘Does he not have the concept of anniversaries in his head?’
Yunshin took out his phone and fell into brief contemplation. What kind of day was today for him? Seheon usually never used even monthly leave, focusing wholly on work. Yunshin had never seen him rest outside of scheduled holidays including weekends. Aside from the one week given to all attorneys at the firm annually, he didn’t seem to use his vacation at all.
Suppressed curiosity welled up in his throat, so he had no choice but to call him.
Fortunately, Seheon picked up immediately. But because he hadn’t been expecting much, his words weren’t organized. Thanks to that, he ended up blurting out the question that had been on his mind.
“-Yes, Kang Seheon of Doguk……”
“What kind of day is December 31st?”
Seheon seemed quite bewildered by the abrupt, aggressive question cutting him off. After a quiet silence, a hollow laugh was heard.
“-Where did you learn phone manners? If you’ve been scammed, say so. There’s a relief channel inside the firm.”
“It was on the desk calendar.”
Again, no immediate response. A rather meaningful silence flowed.
“-Since when did you look at that too? You shouldn’t have had time for that in my room.”
“Well, I just happened to see it.”
“-It’s my day off. Weren’t we done talking about this yesterday?”
“It only ends when I’m convinced. Where are you going? You left me alone on Christmas Eve and on Christmas. I didn’t complain and endured it all. But doing this even today—don’t you think that’s too much? You can’t just neglect me like this because I’m a man. We’re dating right now. You don’t seem to know how dating works, so I’m telling you especially: couples meet on days like this.”
“-What, you want to go on a date jammed between suffocating crowds?”
This time, Yunshin let out a hollow laugh, very taken aback.
“No, isn’t it something you obviously do? I happened to take a half-day today. I just finished my schedule. I’ll buy you an expensive meal. Come out.”
“-Not today. I remember explaining that I have somewhere to go separately.”
“That’s why I’m asking where. You never go out for fun, so where are you going today?”
“-You don’t need to know.”
“Who else but me is qualified to know?”
“-Mind your tongue... forget it, I’m hanging up.”
Yunshin had thought Seheon was just saying it and was about to reply, but Seheon ruthlessly hung up. Stunned, he called back, but this time Seheon wouldn’t pick up. The look of incredulity on Yunshin’s face as he stared at the black screen was evident.
“This same old nasty attitude. Talking about a relief channel. Your temper can’t be saved.”
Feeling heat rising, he swept his bangs up with his hand. Even with more surface area exposed to the cold air brushing against it, his face still burned.
He had even given the hint that he was on a half-day; shouldn’t the response have been something like, ‘Shall we have dinner together?’ Or if he was really busy, ‘Let’s meet briefly later for tea, or let me see your face at dawn?’ Even with Yunshin offering to buy him a meal, the refusal had been adamant.
He had no idea what Seheon was so busy with at year-end. It might simply be his imagination, but Seheon seemed to be hiding his destination, which made him even more curious.
“How much more money are you trying to earn? Fine, work hard and get rich, get rich.”
Yunshin put the phone into his coat pocket irritably and trudged along. Then, as if firmly stating that even if Seheon called back, he wouldn’t pick up, he took the device back out and turned it off.
* * *
Arriving at the parking lot, Yunshin surveyed the spacious basement second floor at a glance. He was about to head straight toward the central lobby when he discovered that Seheon’s cars were all parked neatly in the Building A designated area and stopped in his tracks. Based on information he had received from Secretary Tak and from his sister’s chief secretary, every vehicle Seheon owned was a suspicious-looking black color.
“One Benz, one Ford, one Ferrari, one McLaren...”
Yunshin counted the cars in order, and when he reached seven, he tilted his head in puzzlement.
All the cars were in their spots.
‘Public transportation? Or is there another car I don’t know about?’
The latter possibility seemed more likely than the former. And one more possibility was added: that Seheon might still be home. Reflexively, his hand went into his coat pocket to fiddle with his phone, full of regret.
Just as he was thinking of trying to contact him again and reached to take it out, the car in front flashed its headlights on with a flicker. Then he heard the engine start. Startled, Yunshin turned around to see the car owner, dressed in a pitch-black suit as dark as ink, walking this way.
It seemed he had indeed been home. Yunshin observed his approaching figure as if sketching it. Yet something kept nagging at him.
A black coat was draped over the arm of the man in his black suit. And the tie hanging neatly over his dress shirt was also black. His attire looked extremely solemn. There were scenes this brought to mind. All moments he would rather not be true.
‘He hasn’t worn a black tie even once in over half a year.’
His memory was fairly good. Definitely, there was no recollection of it. While forcibly swallowing his puzzlement down his throat, Seheon stood firmly before him. Yet it was Yunshin who opened his lips first.
“Are you leaving now?”
“Are you stalking me? This isn’t even your building’s zone. What are you doing here?”
“I was doing something vaguely similar on impulse.”
“Were, you say.”
“For this situation where we’ve run into each other like this, there is a conceivable cause and effect.”
“What is it. Let me know too.”
“I’ve thought about it. I suppose it must be fate between us.”
Suddenly closing his mouth, Seheon threw him a blatant stare. Then, with a perfunctory reply, he passed by indifferently.
“Goosebumps. Move.”
The thought that he couldn’t just let him go sprang up suddenly. It wasn’t simply because of Seheon’s ominous-looking attire. His expression, too, was one of a weight Yunshin had never seen before.
He didn’t know if Seheon had been caught or if he was showing him. Either way, it was undeniably a scene unfamiliar to Yunshin. Seheon, whom he had watched from beside, always overflowed with psychological composure despite being busy. But now, a strong feeling was conveyed that he didn’t quite know what to do.
If it were an occasion he could leave for after lunch had passed, it made no sense for a workaholic like him to take an entire day off. An imaginative assumption rose in his mind: perhaps Seheon didn’t want to show this mood and expression in front of people, so he deliberately took the whole day off. Instinctively, Yunshin grabbed his sleeve, then slowly slid his hand down to clasp Seheon’s hand.
“What are you doing.”
“Are you visiting a grave? I hate it, but since I saw you, I can go with you once. I’ll wait at home.”
He found this extremely absurd.
“Why would I visit a grave. I have no intention of marrying.”
“Not even with me?”
“It’s not that I won’t with you. It’s that I can’t.”
“If not that...”
Unable to bring himself to say the rest, Yunshin’s expression darkened as his lips moved.
Whenever in his life he had to wear a pitch-black suit with a dark black tie, something sad had always happened. When his father died, when a friend’s or colleague’s parent passed away, when a client from a case he was handling crossed the Samdocheon due to an unforeseen accident or an extreme choice. At every such moment, his heart had ached bitterly.
Since it had been marked on the calendar for a long time, it was unlikely that something had happened today of all days. Moreover, Secretary Tak had said that Seheon took this day off every year, so it was likely some recurring event from long ago. Thinking this far, Yunshin hesitated briefly, then added in a carefully subdued tone.
“You were dressed like this when we first met too, Chief. I remember it vividly.”
Instead of answering, he merely looked at Yunshin blankly. Yet certain answers he deliberately didn’t voice clearly hung over his pale face. Gathering more courage, Yunshin continued.
“Are you going to a charnel house or something? I’m sorry to ask this. But I want to know.”
Even while intuiting that this was a moment he needed to comfort Seheon, he didn’t want to let it go just because Seheon wouldn’t say.
As expected. This time, there was something more clearly written on his face as he stared at Yunshin. Yet even seeing it all from the front, it was unclear what emotion it was based on. That was likely because Seheon’s heart was quite complicated at this moment. The fact that he didn’t shake off Yunshin’s hand proved it.
“Attorney.”
When he gave no answer, Yunshin called him again in a rather forceful tone.
“Attorney Kang.”
“Fourth-year associate. A charnel house is a place people go to when they die—people with the financial means to keep an urn in that tiny box for decades. That’s the limit of your imagination, having lived your whole life as a young master.”
“Yes. My imagination is poor. You look like you’re struggling. I’ve never seen this kind of face before.”
“......”
“Should I really just go back up? I’ll listen to you. If you say you want to be alone, I’ll leave you be.”
Seheon, who had been listening to Yunshin quietly, very quietly, asked back in a voice whose end was very faintly cracked.
“If I asked you to stay with me, like you did, what would you do.”
〈I’m really sorry, but please stay with me for a moment. I can’t be alone.〉
Those words he had said to Seheon long ago were another combination of language expressing the emotion of being on the verge of collapse from hardship.
Yunshin met Seheon’s eyes calmly and let go of his hand. For an instant, a very flustered look flashed across Seheon’s face and vanished. But Yunshin didn’t miss it.
At times, a single action was far more efficient than a hundred words at expressing the heart. Leaving Seheon behind, Yunshin approached the passenger side of the car he had started. He opened the door himself and got in. After dutifully fastening his seatbelt and facing forward, he saw Seheon gazing at him quietly through the window. He wondered if it would be too much to hope that a hint of relief could be seen inside that expressionless face.
Seheon stepped forward again and got into the driver’s seat. Then he looked at Yunshin in the passenger seat for a long time with an unreadable gaze. Soon, without a word, he gripped the wheel and began to drive skillfully.
* * *
Evening came, and as sunset and shadow arose together, the air grew cold to a degree incomparable to the day when sunlight had beaten down upon the earth. Standing by the water made it worse.
A certain provincial riverside where there was nothing to see but the river stretching endlessly was quite desolate. A bleak landscape that might appear in a crime movie unfolded in all directions. Surprisingly, this seemed to be Seheon’s destination for today. It was a place that didn’t suit him at all, given the glamorous life he led.
The atmosphere of the reddish-hued world was gloomy. With nothing but a narrow national road nearby, people were scarce. In summer, it might be a bit crowded since it was waterside, but in winter, it wasn’t charming enough to come see the river. Yunshin could only roughly guess why he had come to this lonely riverside, but still didn’t know exactly.
After looking around, Yunshin eventually filled his vision with Seheon’s lonely figure standing by the river. If he hadn’t been there in this quiet and desolate place, Yunshin would have felt quite forlorn.
Perhaps he always came here alone, lonely by himself.
“Where is this?”
Yunshin, who had been gazing at Seheon affectionately, approached him and asked. Seheon, who had been observing the undulating flow of the river, turned around. The persistent corners of his eyes, repeatedly checking his own existence as if securing a safe zone, felt slightly damp today.
Parting his red lips as if opening a cage door, his voice was a little more subdued than usual.
“An eco-friendly columbarium.”
Realizing his guess had been right, Yunshin deliberately brightened his voice.
“Isn’t that illegal sea burial? There’s no fish farm around, but it’s not more than five kilometers from land.”
“Wrong. The Funeral Services Act doesn’t define this act as illegal.”
“You’ve been enjoying loopholes for quite some time.”
At Seheon, who burst into a short laugh at the joke, the tense look from the parking lot earlier had almost disappeared. He had said little during the drive here, so it seemed his mood had fortunately improved somewhat.
Seen up close, he looked quite detached. It seemed more accurate to say he appeared to have already given up on many things he might have been able to obtain. Because of this, a corner of Yunshin’s heart crumbled. The bright expression he had forced also vanished from his face like the last embers dying out. The faint smile on Seheon’s smooth lips disappeared as he watched.
They watched each other.
The surroundings were wide open. Yet fierce, alert gazes passed between them as if the two of them were barely holding their ground inside a cramped circle, holding hands. Seheon tilted his head, perhaps thinking something. As if to kiss him, Yunshin closed his eyes.
But even after several seconds, no sensation touched his skin.
“Open your eyes. I want to see your eyes.”
At his ambiguous instruction—seemingly a request, seemingly an order—Yunshin slowly opened his eyes again. Seheon, who had been staring fixedly at his eyes, gave him a peck on the forehead with an audible smack, then turned his gaze upward.
The curve of Seheon’s profile as he quietly looked up at the red sky just before darkness covered it completely was beautiful. Yunshin shared in his silence and did the same.
Then Seheon tilted his head again. Determined not to be fooled a second time, Yunshin opened his eyes wide and held his ground, and this time, Seheon truly kissed his lips. Startled back to awareness and looking at him, Yunshin felt shy to find Seheon’s deep, sunken pupils fixed solely on his face, as if the only thing existing in this world was Do Yunshin.
This was his gap. Yunshin felt that this moment was the time to ask such a question.
“Here. Who did you scatter?”
Seheon answered unexpectedly readily.
“My younger brother.”
“You had a younger brother? A boy? A girl?”
“A boy. He died young.”
The moment he heard that, Yunshin grew anxious with a ‘what if’ thought and questioned as if probing.
“Could it be that you’re projecting onto me? There are people with that kind of trauma.”
“Are you filming a French movie?”
“Forget it, then.”
He furrowed his brow and threw a chilly gaze as if asking what nonsense that was, then soon shook his head. Yunshin felt a bit awkward and approached him for no reason. He swayed his body slightly side to side, brushing against him and moving away repeatedly. Whether it bothered him, or whether he had wanted to do this from the start, Seheon immediately reached out his hand.
“Come here.”
He embraced Yunshin’s slender body from behind. Their fields of vision overlapped into one, staring at the same vanishing point. Seheon, who seemed to gaze at the darkness-laden river for a moment, slowly tilted his head. He left several light kisses on Yunshin’s left cheek and ear, then rubbed his own nose tip around Yunshin’s jaw. That affectionate sensation stirred Yunshin’s heart.
He wanted to know more about him. He had always thought so, but it was the first time such an intense desire had welled up.
Yunshin, who had been fidgeting with his hands, placed his hand on the back of Seheon’s hand that encircled his waist. Silently exchanging body heat and watching for timing, surprisingly, Seheon opened his mouth first.
“Not a blood brother, just a younger brother who followed me around. Our situations were similar. We lived in the same neighborhood’s partitioned rooms, and our parents didn’t live with us, but since they were alive somewhere on Earth we didn’t know, neither of us could go to an orphanage or anything. It’s not allowed by law.”
“May I ask how he died?”
“Fatal battery.”
In plain terms, it meant he had been beaten to death.
Gasping, Yunshin tilted his head slightly and glanced back at him.
“By whom?”
“I assume it was the punks living nearby, but it wasn’t a neighborhood with good CCTV either. It happened on a dark night so there were no witnesses. The police slacked on the investigation because he was a kid without parents. And I was young back then too. There was a body, but no culprit.”
It seemed he didn’t know the exact perpetrator either. Yunshin, too, sometimes felt that death was not fair to all. He hadn’t experienced much in life, but he knew the difference well enough. If there was a death like his father’s, received by many people’s grief, there were also times when life tragically flickered out without even knowing the cause.
When both closed their mouths at once, the surroundings grew even quieter. In this desolate space, the only thing they exhaled toward each other was the sound of breathing. The sound of cold wind blowing, the murmur of unclean river water flowing, the sound of cars passing on the road far behind—these things filled the gaps around where they stood, one by one.
Standing there, Seheon continued in a calm tone. His unwavering voice was quiet like a waterway passing by, and somehow sad in its very blankness.
“They say no one takes the ashes of a child already dead; I considered having them treated as unclaimed, but if the child’s parents are still alive, that doesn’t work either. I had nowhere to put him, so I scattered him here. And since I’d heard it was illegal, I couldn’t scatter them openly. I was scared, so I did it secretly. At night.”
“......”
“From here to the house where I lived as a child is quite far. I must have walked about five or six hours as fast as I could in the late night. I scattered him in a hurry, but it was the middle of the night, and I wasn’t in my right mind, so I’m not even sure which part of the river it was. Just. Somewhere around here? After earning a lot of money, I regretted it. Since I can’t scoop up what was scattered in the water and keep it. I should have kept it a while longer.”
His pupils, staring at the river as if to say that by now it had simply flowed somewhere, were still.
This voice, calm and impassive, felt more desolate than any frequency he had ever heard. Pained, Yunshin glanced at Seheon’s profile, then turned his gaze following Seheon’s eyes. He quietly gazed at the river water flowing proudly and leisurely, as if nothing had ever happened here. The waves sparkling with faint light felt cruel.
Being buried in a place like this brought a devastation beyond imagination. Even that water flowed from above to below, so it had long forgotten that incident by now. Perhaps only the small, gnarled trees and the pebbles underfoot remembered that sad night together with Seheon. It must have been a very lonely thing to remember everything alone for a long time.
“You have a surprisingly sentimental side. Do you come every year to remember your younger brother like this?”
“The opposite. I come to remember.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“I’ve earned plenty of money, I have honor, and life is livable now. I forget him sometimes. There’s so much to remember and think about that I deliberately forget how shittily I lived. So before the new year begins, I come here today to remember. Ah, I came this far through such a childhood. Don’t forget.”
Don’t forget.
Those words sounded like a self-hypnosis not to grow weaker anymore.
Until now, aside from the younger brother not related by blood but in similar circumstances, Seheon must have had no one to rely on. Even if time passed and he met benefactors like Mihui, and even if, as more time passed, he encountered people who looked at him with compassion like Secretary Tak, ultimately, the only thing he could lean on would have been the childhood friend already dead.
Though that affectionate heart would have been the driving force for him to live on, because that object no longer existed in the world, it could not become his weakness.
Only now did he faintly grasp why Kang Seheon had no choice but to be such a coward. Of course, compared to him, Yunshin had gone through a relatively smooth childhood and become the adult he was now, so he couldn’t perfectly understand Seheon’s feelings. Everyone can only understand up to what they have experienced. Everything else is merely imitation.
Still, Yunshin wanted to comfort Seheon somehow.
Regretfully fiddling with his bony, stiff, long fingers, Yunshin slowly opened his mouth.
“They say water always returns to where it began.”
Seheon gave no answer. But Yunshin felt that he was listening more intently than ever before.
“Just as you’ve come here every year, he must have returned here too. If you’re lucky, you might have run into each other at some point.”
The silent man suddenly tilted his head. Yunshin turned his face in exactly the opposite direction to exchange gazes with Seheon.
“Do you still absolutely hate things without cause and effect? There’s no harm in thinking positively. Especially with something like this, there’s no right answer anyway.”
“I think you’re misunderstanding something; what’s already dead and gone has no power. I didn’t come here because I’m tearfully sentimental. It’s simply a visit to wrap up the year well and get a grip on myself.”
“Life isn’t easy or gentle enough that you have to periodically pull yourself together. Living like that is hard on you too, Chief. Enemies everywhere, too much to do, unable to trust anyone. Truthfully, you’re very lonely and forlorn.”
“......”
“But isn’t it okay now that you have me?”
As if at a loss for words, he furrowed the space between his brows. To compensate, Yunshin raised the corners of his lips and smiled softly. In the end, Seheon also laughed shortly as if admitting defeat.
“I had a feeling you’d chatter away uselessly if I brought you.”
“You’re the one who asked me to stay with you.”
“Right. So let’s head back now, since we’re done staying together.”
Tap. He lightly flicked Yunshin’s smooth forehead with his finger and removed him from his embrace. He seemed to look at the river for a very brief moment, then soon walked toward the car parked on the rear bank. But one strange thing was that unlike when they had arrived here, his back looked relaxed, if only by a very slight difference.
Unable to gauge whether this change was thanks to him or not, Yunshin belatedly chased after him.
“Where are we eating dinner?”
“We’ll each handle our own.”
“It’s an awkward time to eat if we wait until we get home. Let’s take care of it on the way up. I saw a clam kalguksu place by the roadside on the way down. How about there? I’ll let you off for assaulting my forehead earlier.”
“Beg me. Then I’ll consider whether it’s kalguksu or sujebi.”
“Buy me dinner. Seheon sunbae.”
He shrugged his shoulders, then suddenly tilted his head and gave Yunshin’s lips a smacking peck. It seemed to mean acceptance. Yunshin, who had been following him with a smile, faltered in step midway. He couldn’t move his body, focusing his ears on the countless psychological states squeezing out of his emotional pocket. Seheon started the engine and slowly turned to look at Yunshin, who was frozen behind him.
“Not getting in? I’m leaving you.”
“You’re not angry this time?”
“What should I be angry about? You’d have to have only one or two wrongdoings.”
“Can I call you by your name now?”
Seheon, who had only been throwing his gaze silently, lightly tapped the car body as if playing piano keys. He didn’t seem to be weighing yes or no, but rather reflecting on why such words had come from Yunshin’s mouth in the first place. As he replayed their conversation in his head, he seemed to reach a conclusion and gestured toward the passenger seat.
Yunshin quickly ran over and got in the passenger seat, fastening his belt neatly as he had when they arrived, and gazed at Seheon outside. Somehow, Seheon’s reaction felt unusual, and he was a bit uneasy, wondering if he had hurt his feelings. Looking at this, Seheon leaned down. Then he cupped Yunshin’s smooth cheeks with both hands and pressed their lips together firmly like stamping a seal before pulling away.
From very close range, their gazes collided like a match being struck.
At the end of the strange silence, it was Yunshin who emitted a vocal frequency.
“If you say it’s not allowed yet, I won’t. I just... feel good when you call my name, Chief. So......”
“You can.”
The affirmative answer came so easily that he was the one flustered instead. He began to stammer.
“N-no take-backs.”
“Fine.”
Unable to calm his heart, Yunshin fidgeted his hand needlessly, and as if noticing his anxiety, this time Seheon raised his right hand and kissed the back of it. Soon after, he spoke quietly in a voice that clung to his ear like silk.
“I’ll buy you dinner somewhere nice. Do Yunshin.”
Yunshin blushed and nodded hard.
* * *
Perhaps because it was year-end, the roads were far more congested than expected. By the time they finished eating and arrived home, night had won a complete victory over day long ago.
Looking up at the dark sky near the apartment out the car window, Yunshin suddenly grabbed Seheon’s wrist as he drove. Seheon slowly turned his head as if asking what the matter was. But Yunshin’s gaze remained fixed outside.
“Please stop here for a moment.”
“We’re almost home. Where are you going?”
“There’s something I need to buy. Please wait here. I’ll be right back, so don’t leave me behind.”
Making him pull over to the shoulder, Yunshin got out without hesitation and didn’t look back once. Seheon considered getting out too, but soon gave up and sat in the car, observing the trajectory of his retreating figure.
Obsessively tracking his steps with his eyes, he saw Yunshin enter the commercial area with clothing stores. His final destination seemed to be the lit flower shop in the far corner. Because he got off work late almost every day, he rarely saw it open, but today was a peak season day and tomorrow was a holiday, so it seemed to be operating until this hour.
He watched Yunshin’s figure through the large glass. After carefully asking the owner something, Yunshin went inside the shop and quickly disappeared from view.
Checking the current time on his wristwatch, Seheon lightly tapped the steering wheel while waiting, and a few minutes later, Yunshin appeared again. In his hand was a single white flower.
“Your taste is quite refined.”
“It’s pretty, isn’t it.”
Having already gotten back in the passenger seat, Yunshin held the flower dearly in his arms. Then he smelled its fragrance. That sight was like a scene from a fairy tale. Observing it for a moment like an audience member enchanted by a movie scene, Seheon soon started the car again without a word. They had already arrived near home, so it was quick to the parking lot.
Even after getting out of the car, the two didn’t particularly converse. They simply walked together along the familiar path toward the lobby. Just as the main doors of each building—the point where they would part—came into view, Yunshin spoke first.
“Do you know what this flower is?”
“Isn’t it a lily?”
“That’s right.”
“Going to put it up at your place?”
“No.”
As if to say 'not at all,' Yunshin thrust the flower toward Seheon. Seheon looked down at it in bewilderment and furrowed his brows.
“Why are you giving this to me?”
“I thought you were going to an ordinary columbarium, so I assumed there would be a flower shop on the way. But the road was practically unpaved and there was nothing, so I was bothered that I couldn’t buy any. From next time, buy something like this too, Chief. If chrysanthemums are too obvious, lilies are also used at funeral halls abroad. Roses are fine too.”
“I don’t need this.”
“This isn’t for you, Attorney. It’s for your brother, meaning I was happy to meet him. You’re just the delivery person. Therefore, this is my gift.”
While flowers often bring to mind the trait of wilting easily, Yunshin first thought of the opposite. It was vitality. That was why whenever he visited his father, he always bought a flower or a few, depending on his mood.
'You are not here, but this flower bloomed so splendidly and beautifully.' 'Just as flowers that know they will wither still fully bloom, I too will try my best to live.' When he conveyed such hearts in that single flower, his sadness greatly subsided. He hoped Seheon would know that power of life as well.
Instead of pretending not to know all this affection, Seheon slowly accepted the flower. He smelled it, just as Yunshin had done. During that time, Yunshin belatedly came to his senses and continued.
“About what you mentioned last time.”
“What?”
At that moment, Yunshin looked around fairly to the front, back, left, and right, then suddenly stopped walking. Fortunately, at this very moment, there was no one around.
“The invoice. You told me to write one.”
The hand holding the flower went limp. Seheon, who until just now hadn’t looked to be in a bad mood while smelling the fragrant scent, quickly hardened his expression and stared at Yunshin. Yunshin, not knowing the reason, merely conveyed his own thoughts calmly.
“I’ll write it now.”
“You should say what you want first.”
“Chief, you come this way first. A timing this leisurely, on a day when everyone has escaped outside like today, doesn’t come easily.”
As if to see what on earth he was going to do, Seheon approached without hesitation. In the center of the deserted lobby, the two men in suits stood facing each other. Yunshin glanced to see if any building’s elevator showed signs of opening, then spread both arms. He immediately pulled Seheon’s solid upper body into a tight embrace and trapped him in his arms. Seheon was taller and bigger, so it was difficult, but it was barely within allowable range.
“Is this the invoice?”
“No. My demand is that no matter what I say from now on, you don’t laugh.”
Yunshin held Seheon tightly and squeezed with crushing force. Perhaps because it was an invoice befitting the market rate in his judgment, Seheon stayed still. Thanks to that, he could clearly convey this feeling in the silence.
“I lost the game.”
“......”
“I like you, Chief.”
While his careful voice filled the spacious area, Seheon was silent. He merely stiffened his lean body like a still life and created silence. Yunshin didn’t press him. He already didn’t doubt Seheon’s swaying heart itself. However, whether he would actually take a step forward for the abstract value of a deep relationship with another person was a different matter.
In a sense, it was a decision that would overturn the life he had lived until now, so it couldn’t be easy. Having watched him all along, Yunshin thought he understood that defensive psychology of why Seheon couldn’t readily reach out to him. He had grown accustomed to the sensation of being alone since childhood. It had finally begun to feel like a bearable friend, and the idea of suddenly bringing a stranger into his life was daunting.
But Yunshin was an honest person. Hiding didn’t suit his temperament. So it was only right that the one less skilled at concealment reached out first.
“Do Yunshin.”
The low resonance when he called his name, the incongruously tender feeling, that calm breath—everything was good. He might not be a very good person by universal moral standards. Still, Yunshin had already come to like him. He had come too far to turn back.
Just then, a distant ding was heard, and two of the elevator doors in the central B building opened in sequence. Only then did Yunshin release Seheon’s solid body and meet eyes with his pupils, which were like a quiet lake.
“We’re dating anyway, and I already know your heart, so I’m not very anxious. I’ll wait until you’re ready to talk. You’ll want to be alone tonight, so let’s see each other next year.”
The stiffened man glanced down at the flower in his hand. In the meantime, Yunshin pushed Seheon’s back, with its prominent shoulder blades, toward the A building main door.
As Yunshin looked at him while stepping back, Seheon’s expression felt different from usual. It was by no means his first time receiving a confession, yet he was clearly shaken by this clumsy expression of the heart. So once again, Yunshin felt that Seheon already liked him too, that their hearts were connected.
“Happy New Year. Dream of me.”
As Yunshin lightly bowed in greeting, the main door opened and people came out into the lobby. Thanks to that, Yunshin’s figure quickly disappeared behind the people.
Seheon, who had stood vacantly for a while, moved his steps stiffly like a rusted machine.
Entering his home and heading to the dressing room, he placed the single flower on the display stand with a light toss. Then, as he took off his coat, he stopped.
Leaning his back against the wardrobe, his eyes were dark as he stared vacantly at the white petals. A distant sound like a New Year’s bell reverberated dully in his head. The subtle floral scent flowed impossibly, seemingly tickling the tip of his nose.
He had constantly predicted that Yunshin might be using his swaying heart out of necessity. That he was moderately utilizing their mutual sincerity to move him. He found this extremely unpleasant, yet he constantly thought he didn’t want to let go of that string. Thus, confusion continued between the desire to approach and the pride of not wanting to be treated like a joke.
In fact, just a moment ago, he had thought Yunshin would bring up the story of his sister who was experiencing marital conflict. The invoice was a trap he had deliberately laid because he wanted to quickly establish a clear situation. If Yunshin, who was clumsy at deceiving others, raised the white flag and used himself as a hostage to ask for help under that pretext, he thought he might break the grammar of his life and listen just once. Yunshin was worth that much to him.
But the other party had thrown a completely different topic and shaken Seheon.
〈I like you, Chief.〉
He was someone who always doubted everything, but on the other hand, he was also someone who judged sharply and decided.
He wasn’t so foolish that he couldn’t realize that at that moment, the only thing Yunshin had wanted to say to him was 'I like you.'
He didn’t know how Yunshin could always be so confident without a shred of doubt about his own feelings. He didn’t hide, didn’t conceal, nor showed any signs of discomfort in doing so. When he wasn’t sure of his own heart, he expressed it as such, and when belief formed at some point, he spoke of it without hesitation to the other party. He seemed to calculate meticulously, yet at times didn’t calculate at all.
He was different from Seheon, who calculated everything and acted based on profit and loss. Therefore, he couldn’t understand Yunshin, who repeatedly fell outside the bounds of his assumptions. He was drawn to him precisely because of that. Perhaps, even if it meant letting himself be used as the other desired.
Staring at the lily with an intense, piercing gaze as if to bore through it, he laughed shortly at himself for having such thoughts. Then he checked his wristwatch. If he went back the way he came, it would probably be dawn by the time he reached the riverside, but he didn’t like keeping a gift given to someone else.
〈Do you still absolutely hate things without cause and effect?〉
Although the condition called Do Yunshin was attached, surprisingly, Seheon no longer hated it so much. He wondered if there necessarily had to be a cause. As long as the result was Yunshin, that was enough.
〈You came well. You saw me there.〉
Chewing over the tender voice, he eventually picked up his coat just as it was.
Then, as if this flower were Yunshin himself, he gripped it in his hand and left the house again.