When I recovered the memory of killing my father, the first emotions I felt were guilt, and elation. I didn’t know it was possible to feel such opposing emotions simultaneously.
If my uncle had been awake, he probably would have been horrified to see my expression.
My widely opened eyes were convulsing with guilt, but grotesquely, the corners of my mouth kept twitching upward into a smile. The sense of liberation that hit me so desperately felt like it would numb my entire body.
Discovering my hidden self was both unsettling and satisfying. It was like seeing all the puzzle pieces neatly fit together, feeling proud at first and then immediately hollow.
I loved my mother but pitied my father. And I hated them both. Hyungoh had no confidence in his ability to simply organize his chaotic feelings. If only he could, he wouldn’t feel so helpless.
Once I started losing my bearings, there was no end to it. Who was it that deluded himself into thinking he could handle everything with determination, insisting he couldn’t keep avoiding it and trying to recover his memories?
It’s dangerous. You’ll break. You’ll definitely regret it.
In the end, Michael was right. The truth had become poison, and I hadn’t wanted this path.
You were always right.
I must have frustrated you. You must have found me pathetic too. It was obvious I would regret it, yet I was so stubborn. I always make the wrong choices and have to pay the price for the rest of my life. Why do I live so foolishly? If you were me, you would have chosen a better path. Right?
Because you’re always right.
My directionless anger turned toward an unexpected target. My self-loathing, which had been stagnating like a putrid puddle, began to attack others in earnest, becoming increasingly ugly.
No, it’s my fault. Don’t blame Michael. He tried to help me until the end. He did nothing wrong.
…Do you really think so?
He’s the one who dragged me into the mafia organization. Not only did he deliberately make me look bad to Federico, but he also tried to use me as he pleased. And you say he tried to help?
Then why didn’t he help when Jake kidnapped me and tried to sell me to those lunatics? Did he really not know that Jake hated me to death, so he just stood by? You, who acts like you know everything?
If he hadn’t brought me back to America in the first place, there wouldn’t have been any problems. Look at the state we’re both in now.
Michael. I hate you. Like my father, like my mother and uncle. To you, I was just a means to fulfill your wish, wasn’t I? You used me too. Right?
Please tell me that’s true. So I can freely resent someone too.
* * *
Hyungoh opened his eyes to the touch of someone caressing his cheek. A curly-haired child who had been peeking at him was startled when their eyes met and ran away.
The loud sound of the door closing woke his sleep-dazed mind. The memory of his last moment underwater came rushing back, and he quickly sat up. There were more important matters than wondering why he was lying in an unfamiliar room.
Michael.
When he hastily went outside, he saw the curly-haired child looking at him from the arms of an old man wearing a straw hat.
“Don’t be too alarmed, we’re not cannibals.”
The old man joked, seeing Hyungoh bristling with wariness.
“Where is this place?”
“Our house!”
When Hyungoh asked, the child eagerly answered before the old man could open his mouth.
“Lucas Remington.”
“Isabella Remington!”
As Lucas slowly removed his gloves and offered a handshake, Isabella, standing beside him, followed suit and extended her hand.
“Hyungoh… it is.”
Hyungoh reluctantly shook their hands, still eyeing Lucas warily.
“But how did I end up here…”
“Ah, yes. I don’t know where you drifted from, but you’re certainly the type with a tenacious hold on life.”
“I found you!”
“Yes, yes. My granddaughter found you. I’ve told her so many times not to play alone by the river, but who would have thought she’d end up rescuing someone.”
Isabella puffed out her chest proudly and clung tightly to Lucas’s leg.
Hyungoh, who had been listening to their conversation with bated breath, suddenly darkened. When Lucas noticed his concerned expression as he looked around, he asked with curiosity:
“Who are you looking for?”
“My friend. I have a friend who fell into the water with me.”
“Oh dear, we only found you.”
Hyungoh rubbed his face in distress. It wasn’t an unexpected situation. Honestly, it was more unbelievable that he himself was alive and intact after those fierce currents.
He hated himself for endangering not only himself but also Michael, overcome by emotion. Isabella, who had been watching the downcast Hyungoh with sad eyes, soon glared at Lucas.
“Not funny, Grandpa.”
“Hmm, yes. Even I think the joke went too far.”
Lucas casually laughed, placed his hat on the sofa, and pointed toward the master bedroom.
“Go into that room.”
Hyungoh quickly raised his head, his eyes sparkling with hope as he looked up, and Lucas gave him a warm smile.
He hurriedly opened the door Lucas had pointed to. Through the translucent curtains, bright light was shining down on Michael, who lay in bed.
“Ah.”
His legs suddenly gave way. He crawled on his knees closer to the bed and carefully took Michael’s hand that was protruding from between the blankets. When he buried his face against that still-warm touch seeking refuge, the hand twitched slightly.
“…Choi.”
Michael forced out words in a deeply sunken voice. His condition, with a pale face and barely able to blink his eyes, was clearly not good by anyone’s standards.
Hyungoh spoke, trying hard to steady his trembling voice:
“I almost died.”
“Yeah, you almost died.”
“You almost died too.”
After pondering for a moment, Michael soon smiled gently.
“I guess so.”
How can you smile right now? He barely managed to suppress the sharp response that was about to emerge involuntarily. How can you make such an expression when you don’t even have strength in your hands?
“I’ll get you some water.”
“Don’t go.”
When Hyungoh tried to stand up, Michael weakly said.
“Your lips are dry.”
“I have something to tell you.”
As he turned his head to ask what it was, he was met with meaningful eyes and found himself at a loss for words. And he intuitively realized. For the first time, he would hear the story about himself from Michael’s own lips.
