Chapter 102

Seokju quickly prepared the bedding. Heavy fatigue weighed down his eyelids. Despite already having a lot on his plate, today’s exhaustion was particularly intense due to Ki-heon’s visit. He wanted to cuddle Ajin and sleep until late morning.

 

“Ajin.”

 

Seokju called out to Ajin with a subdued voice. Ajin slowly glanced at him. Seokju tapped the bedding.

 

“Come here. Let’s sleep.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

Ajin quietly refused. Seokju narrowed his eyes. Was he still not awake from the medication? With a sigh, Seokju brushed his hair back and spoke again.

 

“Come here.”

 

“I don’t want to. I’m not going.”

 

Ajin shook his head and turned his gaze to the painting. It was a clear refusal.

 

Seokju clenched and then relaxed his jaw. It was defiant, rebellious, almost nauseating, but he hoped it wouldn’t be like this today. He already felt like he was sinking into the ground.

 

Approaching Ajin, Seokju sat in front of him and used his characteristic low tone to threaten Ajin.

 

“Ajin. If you act like this, you won’t ever see the flower lady again.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“What?”

 

Unexpectedly, Seokju’s eyes flickered with surprise at Ajin’s response. One of his eyebrows raised. Ajin stared at the painting and softly murmured.

 

“You don’t have to tell me.”

 

“…”

 

“It’s okay now. You don’t have to know anything.”

 

“…”

 

“I’m not curious…”

 

Ajin’s thin voice trailed off quietly.

 

Seokju stared at him, perplexed. Why was Ajin suddenly like this? Before, he would leap at the mention of the flower lady. But now, it seemed like he didn’t care at all.

 

Why? How? What should I do now if that name doesn’t work? How can I hold onto Ajin?

 

As Seokju’s confused black pupils twitched, Ajin turned his eyes to him. Then, with a faint smile as if crumbling, he whispered softly. With a voice mixed with the wind, he whispered softly.

 

“Because… I’m going to see those waves.”

 

“…”

 

It was a strange statement. Nonsense. How could Ajin go see the waves? He had never seen the sea before. He didn’t even know where it was. It would take hours by car to go see the sea from Seoul. And how could he go without even being able to drive?

 

Seokju urgently checked Ajin’s ankles. Perhaps Ajin had done something with the shackles. However, the thick shackles still painfully clamped Ajin’s ankles.

 

His instep and ankles were bruised and numb, and his rough skin was oozing blood from the friction. With his dry feet weakly hanging, even if they were undone, Ajin wouldn’t be able to walk properly.

 

Seokju looked at Ajin again. How could you go see the waves with legs like these? Unless someone helped him—thoughts trailed off, his face turned cold with a sudden realization.

 

“Ajin.”

 

Seokju called out to him.

 

…

 

But Ajin didn’t respond. He just stared blankly at the painting with unfocused eyes.

 

“Ajin. Answer me.”

 

Seokju called out to him as he sat down. But once again, Ajin chose silence. Seokju ran his fingers through his hair. Then, following Ajin’s gaze, he turned his head. A large painting filled his sight.

 

It was a painting Seokju liked. He had directly commissioned it from a famous artist, who took the name Taeho from the meaning of gathering waves, and it had cost a lot of time and money.

 

But it felt strange now. It was unbearable to look at. The flowing waves seemed to mock him.

 

Seokju stood up abruptly. Then he approached the painting step by step. Ajin was staring blankly at him. Seokju couldn’t gauge what he was thinking.

 

Then Seokju spread his arms wide and tore the painting apart. As he did, the waves in the painting seemed to sway along with his movements.

 

“Ah, ahh…”

 

Ajin belatedly jerked his buttocks up. Why, why was he doing this? His mouth opened in shock, but he was too surprised to make a sound.

 

Seokju opened the window and lifted the torn painting. It seemed like he was going to throw it into the yard.

 

Startled, Ajin quickly got up. But he stumbled after a few steps and fell. With his legs trembling in the shackles, his knees twisted, and his ankles throbbing, Ajin was close to being unable to walk at all.

 

“Boss, Boss…”

 

“…”

 

“Boss, please don’t. Please don’t do this. I… I did wrong. Please don’t. Please?”

 

Desperately, Ajin reached out to Seokju. But Seokju didn’t even glance at him. Eventually, the painting flew from his hand. The heavy painting landed in the yard with a loud crash, as if the world was breaking apart.

 

Astonished, Ajin’s mouth hung open.

 

In this empty and desolate room, the only thing he had been fixating on was the painting. He was afraid to look at the dim wall, afraid it might devour him. The painting that he had been staring at with reluctant eyes was now gone.

 

Ajin looked at the burning painting, watching the freedom crumble and shrink miserably. The crackling sound of the flames seemed like tears of the waves. It seemed like blood was dripping from the red flames.

 

The fire surged violently, as if it would engulf the world. But it was momentary. The painting turned to ashes in less than five minutes. The waves that had been flowing gracefully were burnt black, and there was a hole in the word “Taeho” that had been written beautifully.

 

All that remained was the acrid smoke. Then, in an instant, even that smoke vanished into the pitch-black night.

 

“…”

 

Ajin bit his lower lip and tears fell from his swollen eyes. Resentment and anger filled his widened eyes. Seokju didn’t know how far he wanted to destroy everything.

 

As Ajin trembled with contempt, Seokju returned to the room. He stepped on the floor with his long legs and walked downstairs, passing by Ajin.

 

“You bastard…”

 

Ajin cursed at him. Seokju’s footsteps abruptly stopped. Ajin glared at him with fiery eyes. Resentment flickered in his red eyes.

 

“I hate you, Boss.”

 

“…”

 

“I wish you were dead.”

 

“…”

 

“I hate you terribly. Even if I die and come back to life, I’ll still hate you. I’ll keep hating you.”

 

Ajin spoke each syllable with force. But ultimately, it was futile. It was nothing more than feeble anger, muttered with a weak body, pale face, not cursing, not wielding a knife, unable to stand properly.

 

Yet, Seokju felt a piercing pain, as if Ajin was stabbing him with a thick, sharp spear.

 

Hot blood poured from his side, chest, thigh, neck, forehead, and temple. As his feet grew damp, his body temperature dropped. His head grew cold as if from genuine excessive bleeding, and goosebumps formed on his cheeks.

 

Suddenly, Seokju realized.

 

No matter how much he tried to create a false Ajin, hold onto that false Ajin, cling to him, they couldn’t go back. They had strayed too far from the time they spent together. There was nothing they could do to turn back.

 

“I really… hate it so much…”

 

Ajin collapsed to the side. Then, he burst into bitter tears. His robe slipped, revealing Ajin’s thin back. Seokju closed his eyes tightly at the sight of purple bruises and red marks scattered across his back.

 

He knelt down in front of Ajin, embracing his thin body. Ajin struggled, hitting Seokju’s cheeks, swinging his fists, twisting his body. But Seokju stubbornly held onto him.

 

“Ajin. Let’s sleep now.”

 

“Let go, let go!”

 

“Sleep, okay? Just sleep…”

 

Please, let’s end today. Let’s stop here. Let’s just…

 

Seokju threw out his words haphazardly. After a while of rebelliousness, Ajin’s body slackened. He had fainted.

 

Seokju sighed.

 

It was a sigh of relief or regret, he couldn’t tell. Still, he felt relieved that he could hold Ajin like this tonight.

 

It was a presumptuous and arrogant relief.

 

—

 

Seokju was inspecting the drugs in the company basement. He was checking the required amount for this month. On one side, there were piles of powdered phenobarbital, and on the other side, brown bottles filled with popular white pills from the pleasure district.

 

Dukjae, holding a file, was explaining to him where this should go and where that should go. Seokju listened absentmindedly. His mind was filled with thoughts of Ajin.

 

Thirty minutes ago, a call came from home. It was an organization member reporting on Ajin’s condition.

 

– Yes, sir. It’s me.

 

– There’s nothing special to report. This morning, I heard the sound of washing, and for lunch, he finished a bowl of rice, which is unusual. When I asked if he wanted more rice because he seemed to be eating well, he said no.

 

– And now, don’t you have a bookshelf, sir? He’s taking out fairy tale books or something from there and reading them.

 

– Well, he’s not crying, not absent-minded, just doing fine. Seems like he’s adapting quite well. You don’t need to worry anymore.