On a rainy night, you curl up by the stairs, listening to the lively sounds of the tavern downstairs, tilting your head against your knees and closing your eyes.
A huge sense of exhaustion surrounds you, yet you can’t fall asleep at once. Your mind races; your parents’ blood stains the hem of your skirt, leaving a cold touch. He handles you like a doll, wind seeping through the cracks in the window. You don’t have time to think whether this man is your hell, or the ladder that will pull you out of the abyss.
You fell into a deep sleep. When you opened your eyes again, a coat with a woody scent had been draped over you.
Kim Seon-woo sat in front of you. When he saw you wake up, he still said nothing, just stared into your eyes, slowly leaned in, and reached out to tug your skirt, which had slipped to your thighs, back down to your calves.
“Sorry, I fell asleep. It’s pretty late, huh?”
“It’s fine.” Kim Seon-woo copied your posture, wrapping his arms around his legs, head tilted against his knees. “If you want, I can go downstairs and get you a drink.”
“...Mm.” You looked at his half-wet hair, his thin shirt, then at the clean coat on your own body.
He was clearly such an awkward man, so why was he so good at handling the little details?
A few minutes later, he came upstairs carrying two small cups of liquor. He handed one to you, and after you took it, you looked at it: amber liquor, swaying with your movement, like a golden sea.
In fact, you rarely drank. Maybe because you didn’t want to fall behind, you downed the cup in one gulp. A burning sensation surged up from the depths of your throat, and you choked, staggering as you coughed loudly. Kim Seon-woo took the cup from your hand and drew you into his arms.
“You can’t hold your liquor.”
He didn’t sound concerned, and it didn’t seem like he was mocking you either. For the first time, you lifted your head and studied this man’s face closely.
He probably didn’t like making expressions; the corners of his mouth were flat, his lips a little full, and after drinking there was a bright sheen on them. His eyes were beautiful, but blank, only showing a faint light now and then when he met your gaze.
He should have been a mature man, and yet there always seemed to be a trace of childishness leaking out of him, as if no one had ever taught him how to grow up.
He should have been a ruthless man, so why did his eyes seem to be smiling at themselves all the time? As you wondered, your hand had already reached toward his face.
He was clearly a little unaccustomed to it, forcing himself not to pull away.
Your index finger gently touched the outer end of his eyebrow.
He gently closed his eyes.
All of this was wrong. The wrong beginning, the wrong plot, the wrong decision.
You withdrew your hand. Your lips moved, but in the end you still asked the question that had always been there.
“Why don’t you kill me?”
“...”
“Wouldn’t I become a burden to you?”
“I’m afraid we’re not nearly intimate enough for you to become my burden.” Kim Seon-woo released the arms around you, and his eyes turned cold again. “I’ll handle all of this.”
Raindrops fell on the roof, and the dark space was lively beyond measure. You and he both stepped back until neither of you could make out the other’s face anymore, until the color of your eyes fused with the darkness, no longer able to rely on the other’s gaze to tell the other’s joy or anger.
Are his eyes still smiling? you wondered.
