Chapter 9
***
Woosang finished cleaning the dishes and handed me a glass of orange juice he had bought earlier. The sight of him in my space felt strangely unfamiliar, so I quickly finished tidying up and went to stand beside him. Only then did the reality truly sink in: Woosang was in my house. We had woken up in the same bed, gone grocery shopping, and eaten together, yet it was only now that the weight of his presence hit me.
This was the first time anyone had ever been inside my home since I started living alone. The word first weighed heavily on me. This place held no value to me, but the fact that he was here made it feel strangely sacred.
At first, he was just someone who danced, someone who had entered my world for the first time. But now, even that had become familiar. Without me noticing, he had taken root in my life—so deeply that I couldn’t pull him out even if I tried. Perhaps I was simply enjoying the feeling of having someone so unattainable by my side. I could feel a warmth spreading from my fingertips. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to touch him.
That’s when Woosang looked at me and spoke. I held my breath as I met his gaze.
“I’m going to Spain for a performance next week.”
“…What?”
“The performance you came to see—it’s been confirmed for Spain. It was actually decided a while ago, but there were some delays, and now it’s scheduled for next week. So… I’ll be heading to Spain soon.”
“Ah…”
I hid my outstretched hand behind my back and listened to him.
“I need to go early for rehearsals and to check the stage. So I’ll probably be gone for about two or three weeks. What will you be doing then?”
“Then… I’m not sure. I don’t have any plans yet. I’ve been on a break lately…”
I forced a smile.
Spain.
Now that I thought about it, I remembered that I also had a business trip to Spain next week. A sudden tension gripped me, and I clenched my fists. Of course, Spain wasn’t a small place, so the chances of running into each other were slim. But the mere possibility of this coincidence was enough to make me uneasy.
I played along with Woosang’s words, but a cold sensation lingered in my chest. Woosang, unaware of my anxiety, gave me a strange smile. I smiled back. I had no choice.
***
Before leaving for Spain, Woosang visited my place a few more times. Worried about my eating habits, he cooked for me every time he came and taught me simple recipes. Then, Woosang left for Spain, and I followed suit, heading there for work as well.
It was odd and unsettling that our schedules overlapped like this, but there was nothing I could do about it. If I was going to be this anxious, I should have just told him I had a work trip to Spain too. But it was too late to take back what had already passed.
I used to not understand why people felt anxious because of others, but now I was starting to grasp that feeling. In the end, I just didn’t want to be disliked. I didn’t want Woosang to see me as strange. I knew I was strange myself, but the thought of him realizing it made me feel sick.
“See you in Paris.”
I read Woosang’s message again. As far as he knew, I was still in Paris. Even if I went to Spain, there was no way he would find out about me. Fortunately, Woosang was so busy with rehearsals in Spain that he didn’t contact me often. Still, he occasionally sent me photos of the Spanish scenery. I wanted to see him more than the scenery, but I couldn’t ask him to send me pictures of himself. So I went to his social media and looked for photos instead.
Woosang didn’t post much, but his friend Bel uploaded several pictures a day. Thanks to her, I could see Woosang fairly often. But since he was there for a performance, not tourism, most of the photos were of the rehearsal studio. The backgrounds he sent me were mostly sunset views from his window or ordinary alleyways, so it was hard to tell which part of the city he was in.
At least the performance venue was far from my work location, so I could carry out my job in Spain with some peace of mind.
***
I usually worked with a longtime business partner—a former colleague of Hund’s. But I had never seen him properly communicate with Hund or me. We just did the job within the given framework and parted ways. That was all.
Once, when he tried to mess with me, I cut off a few of his fingers and threw them into a furnace. But he never sought revenge after that. He probably knew petty threats wouldn’t work on me. We met again after a long time and exchanged nothing more than a nod. Two years ago, after Hund died, we communicated even less than before. I preferred it that way.
This assignment wasn’t particularly difficult. The target wasn’t a high-ranking official, and there were no complicated demands like torture. All I had to do was kill him quietly, without a trace. After discussing the details, we went our separate ways to eat.
I went into a nearby bakery, bought a piece of bread, and ate it plain—no butter, no jam. I was used to eating like this, but after spending time with Woosang, I had grown accustomed to delicious butter and jam. The bread tasted dull and bland. It wasn’t inedible, but I decided that when I got home, I’d spread butter, honey, and jam on my bread for a proper meal.
Lost in such mundane thoughts, I checked the time and realized it was almost time to start work. I put on the glasses and gloves I only used for work and headed to the designated location. It was strange how uncomfortable this familiar sensation felt after just a few months away. It was proof that I was changing—and that my life before had been wrong.
I traced my gloved fingers over my lips as I recalled the information I had been given. This time, the target’s family had requested his death because he was wasting all their money on drugs. It was such a trivial reason. I was used to even more trivial reasons, so this request didn’t strike me as unusual. Looking at it this way, people seemed to break so easily. I almost pitied the target, who was about to be killed by his own family over drugs.
In the still-warm weather, I wore a thin outer layer and stood with my hands in my pockets, blankly staring at the street. All I had to do was approach the target as he left the bar, pretend to be a drug dealer, and give him a substance that would cause fatal shock when inhaled. Drug addicts like him usually inhaled their purchases in some alley and collapsed right there.
I spotted the target, smiled, and walked toward him.
[Hello.]
I spoke in English, putting on a pathetic act as I approached.
***
I smoothly talked the man into heading toward the alley where my partner was waiting. That was all I had to do. There was no dramatic fight—just a dull, uneventful task.
Dull.
So why did my chest feel so hollow? Was it because I was on a work trip for the first time in a while? Or was it the guilt of lying to Woosang? Lately, I had laughed more than I ever had in my life. For the first time, I felt that living wasn’t so bad. Was this the feeling Hund had been talking about? Because of that, this meaningless task felt even more trivial.
When I was with Woosang, my heart always felt so full that I didn’t know what to do with myself. But now that I was alone, I felt nothing at all.
“I miss you.”
I murmured without thinking. I missed him. Maybe I missed him even more because of this situation. But my time with Woosang was running out. Soon, my life would return to its previous emptiness—just like before.
I took out a nicotine-free cigarette and lit it. Lately, whenever I felt suffocated, I found myself reaching for these. They were meant to help quit smoking, but I had become addicted to them instead. It was ironic. But I knew what I really wanted wasn’t this cigarette—it was Woosang’s face when we had met. My chest ached again. Lately, I had been living in this kind of pain.
Just then, I heard footsteps entering the narrow alley from the noisy main street. I sent a subtle signal to my partner, alerting him to someone’s approach. My partner, who could sense even the smallest sounds like a ghost, was already dragging the body away, disappearing into the distance.
Reassured, I turned to look toward the sound. The figure entering the alley was obscured by shadows. The unfamiliar alley made it hard to see, and I felt like I was missing something. Frowning, I blinked and looked ahead—only to find myself facing the situation I feared most.
Woosang was standing right in front of me.
Of course, the situation I least wanted was always the one that found me.
“…!”
I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping this was a dream, then opened them again. Nothing had changed.
“…”
Our eyes met. But there were no words. Not a single word was spoken.
Was it really him?
The silent Woosang stared at me intently. His gaze made my heart feel like it was stopping.
“…Mmm.”
Woosang let out a small, pained sound. Taking that as my cue, I cautiously turned away and walked forward. I didn’t know what to do—my vision was blurring, and all I could manage was to look away. I turned my back on Woosang. I hoped that when I turned around, he would be gone. My throat was tight, making it hard to breathe.
I turned back to look at him again. Our eyes met—there was no avoiding it. I still couldn’t say anything. The silence was unbearably heavy.
