Chapter 44
Snow-white sheets with snow-white blankets, and a snow-white pillow clutched tight. Michael, even wearing snow-white pajamas, looked like a baby angel wrapped in sacred wings. An angel full of nothing but purity, untouched by any stain.
Herick was kneeling beside him, watching over Michael like this. The sound of labored breathing somewhat calmed his troubled mind.
What do you know to be talking so much?
Herick furrowed his brow. The words he’d just hurled at Hyungoh were making his head spin. They were almost identical to what he’d said when he first met Michael.
Don’t spout nonsense with that dull face of yours. Who do you think you are, some kind of god?
Herick covered his face with both hands and muttered a curse under his breath. To think I dared speak to Michael that way.
Do you want to know the truth?
When one memory surfaced, ten more followed. Herick bit his lip as the continuing fragments kept coming.
Without Hunter, your life would have been very miserable.
Why? Eight-year-old Herick had asked aggressively.
Whatever the cause, you were destined to end up killing all your family members.
Michael had answered.
Destiny. Herick didn’t believe in destiny. He thought such things didn’t exist, couldn’t possibly exist. Michael never forced him to trust his words. He only showed him.
That man is going to hang himself in his ex-wife’s bedroom tonight.
Once, Michael, who was being held by Hunter, suddenly pointed to a man walking on the street outside the window and spoke. Ex-wife? You mean Rachel who lives across the street? Hunter had casually asked while putting a chocolate bar in Michael’s hand. Michael nodded.
Herick had dismissed it as nonsense. He’d long ago decided that both Hunter and Michael were pathetic people who enjoyed talking nonsense. But surprisingly, the next morning, that man was found hanging from the ceiling in the bedroom of the woman called Rachel across the street. Hunter and Michael heard about the incident with indifferent faces. As if it was only to be expected.
It wasn’t just once or twice. Michael’s prophecies were endless. No, they didn’t seem like prophecies. It was as if he had some supernatural ability to turn his imagination into reality.
Herick began to fear. He felt like one day Michael would come up to him and whisper, “You will soon hang yourself to death.” Michael’s words already transcended anything a human could be capable of.
Michael, are you going to kill me?
Herick had asked. Michael, rolling his large eyes, shook his head. You are going to kill me. You can kill me. To Herick, who was screaming in outrage, Michael quietly said:
Even at the end of my life, I have not killed anyone.
That statement was still a mystery. From the phrases “have not killed” and “even at the end of my life,” Herick realized he’d uttered a contradictory statement. It was a sentence he simply couldn’t interpret.
Wondering if Hunter might understand the meaning of those words, he relayed them to him. Hunter seemed surprised for a moment but then laughed. That sentence perfectly explains Michael’s existence. When pressed about what that meant, Hunter merely shrugged and kept his words to himself.
Herick was going crazy. He began observing Michael to understand that sentence. He tried to empathize with and understand the meaning of everything Michael said. His own perspective wasn’t necessary. He knew that the moment he imposed his own emotions and thoughts, he would never be able to understand Michael.
Herick needs to live Herick’s life.
Herick’s eyes twisted fiercely. Useless words. I’m living quite contentedly. As long as Michael stays by my side, there’s nothing to fear.
Herick doesn’t just have Michael by his side.
No, I only have Michael. Only Michael can understand me. Herick grabbed Michael’s small hand. Only Michael knows everything about me. Even my dirty, despicable flaws.
“Let go of that hand.”
Herick’s eyes widened. Turning his head, he saw Marsha standing behind him, holding up her index finger as if to tell him to be quiet.
“It’s better not to wake him. He’ll surely become violent.”
“…What’s going on?”
Herick jerked his chin. Her hand was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage.
“His condition is getting worse.”
“Did Michael do that?”
“Yes.”
“What’s that?”
Herick pointed to the jack knife in Marsha’s other hand. Water was dripping from it as if it had just been washed, soaking the carpet.
“The intrusions are becoming more frequent too.”
“Want help?”
“No, you’re in danger.”
Marsha tapped her own head and spoke firmly. Tsk. Herick clicked his tongue.
“It’s too much for you to keep fending them off alone. Have you contacted Hunter?”
“No, he’s not answering.”
“What? What the hell is he thinking?”
“Don’t raise your voice.”
“How can I not raise my voice? Michael is in danger at this rate!”
“…I don’t know why you’re suddenly so worked up, but if Michael wakes up here, the situation will only get worse, so calm down.”
At the sound of Michael stirring, Herick closed his mouth. Urgency and anxiety tightened around his heart.
“Where is Hunter at a time like this?”
“He went to the main house. ‘He’ summoned him directly.”
“‘He’? Why?”
“A civil war has started in Iraq. And there seems to have been friction between the Costra Family and the Arangeti Family over arms trafficking.”
“They’re both small organizations, aren’t they?”
“The problem is that the two organizations might use that friction as an excuse to start a war.”
“You mean the war could escalate?”
“Yes. Considering the allies of both organizations, the impact could be quite significant.”
“They’re really something…”
Herick, who had stopped mid-sentence, stiffened. A hand that had suddenly emerged from behind was gripping his shoulder.
Marsha froze her already rigid face even more. Michael, who had raised his upper body, was staring blankly ahead.
“Michael.”
Marsha called him in a calm voice. Michael, who had been sitting vacantly, suddenly lowered his head to look at his own body.
“Michael, little Michael.”
Michael mumbled his own name, following Marsha.
“My stomach hurts.”
“…”
“My stomach hurts. I lost a lot of blood. I think I was stabbed too deeply, I only meant to scare them…”
Michael, clutching his stomach with both hands, began to whimper. Don’t torment me. What if I run away again? I was supposed to protect them, but I fell asleep. It was too painful, too tiring.
Herick swallowed hard. As he tried to quietly move away, taking advantage of the moment Michael removed his hand from his shoulder, his arm was caught from behind once more.
“When did you grow so big?”
Michael, who had been sniffling just moments ago, asked with a serious face.
“Selfish Herick. If you had just abandoned your pride, you could have saved everyone. What’s so important about honor at such a young age that you would abandon your family?”
“Michael, it’s all a dream. I don’t have a family.”
“Yes, you don’t. Because you killed them all. Out of tens of thousands of stories, all the results were the same. How stubborn you are.”
Herick, as if familiar with this situation, calmly stood up and backed against the wall. Michael, who had been wriggling under the blanket on the bed, climbed onto the bedside table.
“It hurts…”
My head feels like it’s going to burst. Michael twisted his body in pain. I wish everything would just disappear.
“Michael, that’s dangerous.”
“Let go.”
Michael roughly pushed away Marsha, who had grabbed him and put him down on the floor. Marsha. Our loyal Marsha. Michael knocked over the bedside table and muttered.
“When the moon and stars pour down, bury this body straight in the mud, singing a song of compassion…”
Michael, clutching his head, suddenly started humming. Marsha clenched her fist, visibly disturbed.
“If you hadn’t been mumbling this song that day, you would have been dead long ago. Right?”
You know it too, Marsha. Michael, moving his feet weakly, tore off the closet door. It’s agonizing. It’s suffocating but empty. He moved his mouth incessantly.
“It’s really gotten worse.”
Herick said gravely. He’s having a harder time than before. Marsha nodded. Michael, who had been mumbling for a while, picked up a table as big as himself and threw it out the window. With a sharp crash, the table and glass fragments embedded themselves deep in the lawn below.
“Michael, calm down. You’ll get hurt.”
Ignoring Herick’s words, Michael threw and shattered a glass. Herick, seeing the terrible glass shards scattered at his feet, ran his hand through his hair, looking troubled. It wasn’t this bad before. At most, he would whine or throw small objects like lamps.
“He’s really going to get hurt at this rate. When did he become so violent?”
“Since that day.”
“That day?”
“The day he hit your head with a hammer.”
Herick turned to look at Marsha. That was the first time Michael had hit someone and drawn blood. Marsha showed her bandaged hand. It was still soaked through with blood.
“Michael!”
At the sound of Hyungoh’s voice from beyond the door, Marsha and Herick both flinched. Did he come up after being startled by the table that fell? Marsha had forgotten that the room directly below Michael’s was where Hyungoh had been resting. What’s going on? Hyungoh knocked on the door.
“Choi.”
Michael dropped the glass shard he was holding onto the floor. Please open the door. Hyungoh asked in a solemn voice. Michael, his eyes unusually wide, staggered toward the door.
“No, Michael.”
Marsha blocked Michael’s path. Herick, who had been looking back and forth between the seemingly deranged Michael and the door, seemed to think for a moment before finally breaking into a faint smile.
“Why not?”
“Herick.”
“Why not? Are you doing this because Hunter told you to? Is hiding the fact that Michael is living in hiding from the organization not enough—do you have to hide this violent behavior too?”
“…”
“His orders aren’t always right, Marsha. That guy should know what he needs to know.”
“Wait…!”
Herick opened the door. Hyungoh, who had raised his hand to knock again, froze in place. Herick? Wasn’t only Michael supposed to be here?
Marsha with her eyes wide open, and Michael standing blankly next to the shattered window. And Herick, giving him an inexplicable smile. Hyungoh slowly lowered his hand. The beer bottle held upside down in his other hand slipped due to sweat and fell to the floor. I thought a burglar might have broken into Michael’s room… For a moment, the thought that it would have been better if it had been a burglar crossed Hyungoh’s mind very quickly.
