Chapter 23
Herick glared at Michael. After hearing Michael’s proposal, Hyungoh had hung his head low and remained silent. Even I found that comment offensive. The cold intention behind such seemingly casual words was obvious to anyone with even a shred of awareness.
Michael simply watched Hyungoh. He didn’t grow impatient with the stretching silence; rather, he seemed to enjoy it with a relaxed expression. How can he be so calm? What if Choi tries to run away again?
Herick leaned back against the sofa. Hyungoh wasn’t the only one frustrated by his inability to fully grasp Michael’s intentions. Herick felt the same way.
He was at least somewhat manageable when he was younger. He didn’t try to hide his emotions back then. Herick recalled his past self. In those days, he felt like he could understand everything Michael said. Looking back now, it was groundless confidence. Who could understand whom? No one could ever truly understand Michael.
What do you want me to say to you?
Michael had been quite direct from their first meeting. With an empty expression like an old man who’d already seen through the essence of the world at the mere age of four, he’d immediately captured Herick’s attention.
His tongue licked every corner of Herick’s wounds. Sweet saliva melted in, covering the injuries. Herick was enthralled. No drug could provide greater ecstasy than this. That’s why he clung to Michael. Like an addict, Herick had somehow become an invalid who couldn’t function without him.
He firmly believed his wounds were being healed because of Michael. Unaware that the tongue wrapping around him so comfortably carried poison, unaware that the poison was digging deeper into his wounds creating even deeper valleys, Herick fell further into the abyss.
Inside an immense hole with no visible end, he barely hung on, clinging to a fragile branch. But even that finally broke, unable to bear the weight of his body. It was only a matter of time before he fell.
It was Hyungoh who reached out to Herick then. He did so without hesitation. Herick’s feelings, which had been hostile toward Hyungoh, began to grow confused from that moment. Hyungoh had saved him. If Michael had covered wounds with sweet saliva, Hyungoh had helped new flesh grow from within.
“We’ll be up all night at this rate.”
Herick muttered. He was beginning to worry. Choi’s face didn’t look good. Hyungoh wasn’t frowning or on the verge of tears. It was an expressionless look filled with meaning.
Just then, a phone rang unexpectedly. Perhaps because of the previous silence, even an ordinary ringtone sounded as loud as a siren. Herick was the only one who turned his head. But he didn’t get up to answer it. That would’ve been pointless. If Michael was sitting there quietly ignoring it, Herick had to do the same.
The ringing stopped. But it soon started again. Hyungoh glanced at the phone on the desk and finally spoke.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
Hyungoh said. He wasn’t looking at Michael. Honestly, even Hyungoh himself didn’t really know where he was looking. That wasn’t important. Hyungoh had finally managed to speak after repeatedly suppressing the anger and sorrow welling up inside him.
He’d nearly made an ugly scene. The sense of betrayal toward Michael was greater than he’d expected. Maybe I had false expectations of Michael. Hyungoh rubbed his face with his hands. What was I even expecting?
Right. The idea that we relied on and liked each other is all ancient history now. Hyungoh continued thinking while deliberately ignoring the surge of emotions. Both Michael and I have become adults thoroughly stained by a reality devoid of illusions, long immersed in a society full of greed, and we’ve reached an age where we can coldly judge that even cherished memories are just one strand of the past.
Alright, I get it. I understand everything, so please just answer that damn phone now. Hyungoh turned his head sharply and glared fiercely at it.
“You’ve made a good decision, Choi.”
Michael, with a satisfied smile on his lips, flicked his finger toward Herick. As if he’d been waiting for this, Herick jumped up from his seat and answered the phone.
Michael moved closer to Hyungoh and kissed his cheek. His hand subtly wrapped around Hyungoh’s waist. Hyungoh felt another surge of emotion. All of Michael’s actions now felt artificial. When Hyungoh hesitated and turned his head, Michael paused.
“It’s a summons from the boss.”
Herick said after hanging up.
“He seems on edge, so be careful.”
“I will.”
Michael stood up and gave Herick a light kiss on the cheek, thanking him for his concern. After stroking the now-frozen Herick as if he found him adorable, Michael turned his head slightly to look at Hyungoh. Hyungoh’s face was just as rigid as Herick’s. Michael smiled faintly.
“Sorry, Choi. Let’s talk longer next time.”
Hyungoh quickly got up and left. He could no longer hide the indignation rising to the top of his head at Michael’s bright smile. It was his limit.
What’s this all about, really?
Hyungoh stopped while going down the stairs after passing through the corridor. He could hear nothing but his own breathing.
He’d left on his own out of fear that staying in the same space might lead to a mistake if his emotions escalated. He didn’t even expect Michael to hold him back and apologize. But when Michael didn’t actually stop him, he felt disappointed.
I’m not a child. Hyungoh sneered at himself and kept walking. How pathetic. So in the end, I was the only one dwelling in the past? I still had feelings of regret toward you. Sometimes I even missed you.
But Hyungoh quickly changed his mind. No. This might actually be an opportunity. Now that I know Michael brought me here to use me, I can use that knowledge to my advantage. For now, I’ll submit. If I act like I’m being used just as he wants, he’ll gradually lower his guard. When there’s an opening, then…
Hyungoh flinched. Then what? Are you planning to run away again?
The word ‘escape’ habitually triggered guilt. But does it matter now? Michael sees me as nothing more than a chess piece anyway.
Escape was impossible here regardless. How could it be possible against the Gostin Family? Even if he succeeded in escaping, he’d have to endure the terrifying anxiety of possibly being caught until the day he died. He might die from nervous exhaustion before being killed in retaliation.
By the time he reached his room, Hyungoh still couldn’t organize his thoughts. So do I really have to live the rest of my life as the organization’s hacker? Hyungoh sat weakly on the bed and glanced at the window. Sunlight shone brightly through the thickly grown trees. As he stared quietly, the surroundings gradually turned white.
“Life…”
Suddenly, he began to feel the futility of existence. No. Think carefully. Losing your mind this early would be a disaster. After a deep sigh, Hyungoh habitually stroked the old laptop on the bed.
I have to adapt first. It’s necessary to survive here. Although I don’t know how long I’ll have to stay, life is unpredictable, so adapting comes first. Hyungoh nodded, barely managing to encourage himself. But his hands continued to nervously stroke the laptop.
