‘You’ll get insomnia even if you slept well before, lying down so uncomfortably like that.’
Evil was very frustrated. Honestly, it wasn’t once or twice he wanted to immediately kick down the door, pick up that small body, and fling it onto the bed.
He didn’t rustle even once. He didn’t sigh from being unable to sleep or change positions. In the pitch-dark room where nothing was visible, he just lay still. It seemed like his body would only suffer even if he fell asleep like that anyway.
Perhaps that’s what he hoped for.
‘And while we’re on the subject, why are you on the bed…’
‘…’
‘Why on the bed…’
Once, as soon as he faced Cheche who was pretending to have slept well, he tried to ask.
Why don’t you sleep on the bed?
However, looking at that pretty face looking up calmly, the question just wouldn’t come out. Because the answer was obvious.
It was clear. Cheche was punishing himself.
Evil had never experienced most of the emotions ordinary people felt. Among them, especially guilt was the word most distant from Evil.
Could guilt destroy a person to this extent?
Evil absolutely couldn’t understand Cheche. The person who had only sacrificed all their life was himself, yet thinking his comrades sacrificed themselves for him—wasn’t that really stupid?
He didn’t ask because it seemed like any answer would only be frustrating anyway.
Even after that, Cheche always left the bed alone and curled up to sleep in a corner. Listening to the breathing sounds enduring insomnia, Evil felt like he was going crazy.
Then the first time he slept on a bed was in Armal.
In the luxury villa by the beach where the horizon was visible, Cheche climbed onto the bed and lay down with his back straight. Evil was so pleased to see Cheche lay his tiny head on the pillow that he even thought of taking a photo to preserve that sight.
For three nights and four days, Cheche couldn’t fall asleep easily, but at least he got on the bed, used a pillow, covered himself with a blanket, and lay down. That alone was a satisfying night for Evil.
The reason he chose the bed instead of the floor as usual was probably partly out of awareness of the person sleeping in the same space, but after learning the fundamental cause of Cheche’s guilt, Evil kept thinking of other reasons.
‘Because Evil Endem saved millions.’
Guilt from turning away from dying people and running away. Guilt from deliberately leading them to dangerous places knowing his comrades were trying to protect him. All that guilt might have recovered somewhat because the most powerful person in this world showed a changed appearance because of him.
The person who actually contributed the most in the Armal incident wasn’t Evil, but Cheche who moved Evil. Evil thought Cheche knew that too. So he rewarded him by lying on the bed.
However, that reward ended after just a few days.
The day he returned to the mansion. After pouring out such praise saying that saving millions was such a wonderful thing, that he’d done a good thing… the very Cheche who had made that happen once again curled up his body and lay on the floor.
It was too frustrating. Evil’s frustration generally stemmed from tedium and boredom. But this time was different. The heat rising from frustration became so strong it was uncontrollable, making him start racing in the morning.
Because he couldn’t lay hands on that tiny thing again.
Yesterday too Cheche slept on the floor and Evil had to run through the garden before sunrise. Though he didn’t sweat, after showering with cold water and coming out, Cheche, already changed into different clothes, was sitting on the sofa.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah.”
“……”
“You?”
“I slept well.”
Liar.
Sneering inwardly, Evil plopped down next to Cheche. Evil, who stretched his arm out behind Cheche’s back and crossed his legs, turned on the TV screen that had been off. The morning news happened to be on. The anchor recited in a dry voice how much snow had accumulated overnight and what accidents had occurred.
“Did you see the snow piled up outside?”
“Yes.”
“Look your fill. It’s a sight you can’t see in Tar.”
“Yes.”
Evil raised one eyebrow, annoyed at Cheche who only gave answers.
Then Cheche opened his mouth.
“With the snow falling, the Sunhu smell completely disappeared.”
The trucks loaded with Sunhu stayed in the garden for exactly one day, but the Sunhu smell resonated throughout. The sweet fragrance was fine for a day or two, but smelling it constantly made them sick of it to the point of never wanting to eat anything sweet again. Evil could actually blow away all the smell if he set his mind to it, but he didn’t do that. For two reasons. To not reveal his abilities any further. And to make a show of it.
Because humans quickly forget gratitude, he left traces of the Sunhu for a long time.
“Did you hate smelling it?”
“I was fine. I thought the Director must have had a very hard time.”
“Yeah, I fucking hated it. You know whose fault it all is.”
“Is it my fault?”
“Yeah, I brought it because of you. And now you’re trying to dodge responsibility. You little thing.”
Evil pinched the soft cheek with the hand stretched out behind Cheche’s back, not hard enough to hurt. Cheche’s face was too small and Evil’s hand was large, so just two or three fingers covered half his face.
Following Evil Endem’s Sunhu donation, celebrities are donating fruit one after another.
The news happened to mention Sunhu.
Today, news that Adapter Victoria donated fifty ten-ton trucks worth of Sunhu to K-City elementary schools. The Sunhu that Evil Endem recently donated to orphanages nationwide totaled one thousand tons, about one-third of the three thousand tons of Sunhu he received as thanks after resolving the natural disaster earthquake tsunami in Armal. Evil Endem shocked the world by showing his ability to instantly annihilate the waves causing a powerful earthquake tsunami, then receiving a gift of gratitude for the first time, followed by announcing he would donate Sunhu to orphanages nationwide. The donated Sunhu was premium quality supplied to the Armal presidential residence with no defects whatsoever. With this unprecedented situation of Evil Endem donating, prominent figures are joining in the donations one after another, while on the other hand, voices of concern are emerging that Evil Endem’s mental state may be unstable.
As long as Evil didn’t curse at them to their faces, he didn’t react to what media outlets or the internet said and left it alone, so now even psychologists’ analyses of Evil’s donation had come out. On the internet, some people said his brain was overloaded from having too many abilities, and some said his days were numbered. The gold market and stock market fluctuated every single day.
The truth was very simple though.
He just did it because Cheche said to donate.
“Because of you, I’ve become mentally ill. What are you going to do about it?”
“Couldn’t you just keep donating from now on?”
“…Really. If I do that, they’ll tell me to enter a mental hospital.”
Evil, who had been fiddling with the soft cheek, now moved his fingers to the back of Cheche’s head. He grabbed the deep gray hair, touched it, swept it back, and also sneakily stroked the skin at the nape of his neck with his fingertips. When Evil glanced over by just rolling his eyes, Cheche was looking ahead with no reaction.
The line from his round forehead to between his eyebrows to the bridge of his nose was very beautiful. Even if you asked a craftsman to draw it, they couldn’t. The silver eyelashes with light densely leaking through, the plump red lips, the dark brown cheeks—how could each part be so pretty even when looked at separately? Evil’s gaze moved to his ear. Evil scrunched up his face.
“You said your right ear is the one that can’t hear.”
“Yes.”
“What’s wrong with your left ear?”
Evil twisted his upper body and grabbed Cheche’s left earlobe with his fingers. He hadn’t had a chance to see it before so he didn’t know, but there was a large scar behind his ear.
“What about it?”
“What do you mean what. I’m talking about something like a burn scar.”
“I must have been burned.”
Cheche reacted as if uninterested even though it was about his own body. That point frustrated Evil even more.
“You don’t even know why you got hurt? Really annoying, fuck….”
When he pinched the earlobe with slight force, Cheche finally turned his head to look at Evil.
“We need to do a health checkup. I forgot again.”
“……”
“I need to strip you naked and thoroughly examine where else you have scars. Since you have absolutely no interest yourself, at least I should know.”
“Director.”
“What, why.”
“It hurts.”
Cheche said while slightly shrinking his neck. Evil was startled and pulled his hand away.
“I didn’t pinch that hard.”
Evil, who was too surprised, even withdrew the arm he had stretched behind Cheche’s back. As if that wasn’t enough, he inadvertently even stood up from the sofa. When the word ‘hurts’ came out of Cheche’s mouth, he was surprised enough that his heart sank for a moment. Evil trembled even to his fingertips as he resolved.
