osmanthus, ashtray
.
“Why did you kill Kim Tae-soo?”
“…”
Jiha didn't avoid the man's gaze for even a moment. Instead, she stared intently.
“I had to do that.”
"I wonder if this will be the answer." Taehyung rolled his eyes once, then met Jiha's gaze again. Jiha's expression showed no change. "Not even a hint, let alone an answer."
Jiha was curious. It wasn't a question born from mourning Taesu's death or any other seemingly trivial reason. He was simply curious about the true reason. He wondered what someone who was like to him might have been like to you. He was simply curious about the kind of legitimacy attached to that person's death.
“Did you love me?”
"yes."
"I loved you. I'm sure there was a time when I did." As Jiha added, Taehyung listened calmly. He could hear a strange, choked sound.
“You know.”
”…“
"That's not the kind of relationship between Kim Tae-soo and me."
"How can I,"
"I saw it all."
"They're tailing me and spying on me without warning," Jiha blurted out, barely able to catch his breath. His voice was laced with a subtle sneer. "The atrocities I thought I'd kept secret have all been revealed." Taehyung's lips curled involuntarily at the unexpected remark.
.
Six winters ago, before Taesu and Jiha even met. Jiha was nineteen and Taehyung was twenty-three.
Taehyung met Jiha first.
.
"Auntie, sell me all the rice cakes you have left!"
“Oh, you should eat a lot.”
It was late at night, nearing closing time. Just before midnight, a high school student, having just finished preparing for an interview at school, took a seat in front of a snack bar in the market. His school bag had been thrown carelessly on the floor, his long padded jacket zipped up to his chin, and he was gorging himself on rice cakes. The student was thinking he could eat ten of them.
“…”
A man in a black suit stood firmly beside the student. His attire was extremely unusual in this quaint countryside. The student said he felt a primal sense of repulsion from the man, who exuded a strangely fishy and foresty scent.
“Is that okay?”
"yes?"
The snack shop owner asked back. There was no way credit could exist in the first place. In this small market in a small town. In this small society, governed by a knife-edge economic structure. The student listening nearby seemed puzzled and chimed in.
“…Just spend my money.”
“…”
“What would you like to eat?”
I didn't want to see the lady at my regular snack shop, the one I'd known for so long, so good to me, in trouble. She looked fine on the outside, so what could possibly be lacking inside? The student, feeling sorry for the man, pulled out a coin purse shaped like a puppy, something you'd find at Daiso. The man let out a hollow laugh so only he could hear.
“Please give me the most delicious one.”
“You accepted it so well.”
The man let out a breathy laugh. He seemed to find it brazen, seeing a student in uniform blurting out things he'd normally keep to himself. The student then handed the man his share of rice cakes. He even showed his wit by adding fish cake soup to a paper cup.
However, something about this man was off. He sat there fiddling with the wooden chopsticks stuck in the rice cake, as if he'd never seen it before. Fortunately, the man had caught on to it from watching the student eat before the student did.
“Can I have your phone number?”
“Yes? I’m a high school student.”
“…I know.”
“…”
“I want to send you money.”
"…ah."
Haha. The snack shop owner couldn't help but burst out laughing. The student, trying to smooth over the awkward situation, refused, saying it wasn't expensive. "Fine. Just consider it a good thing." The man smiled faintly upon hearing those words.
He devoured a single rice cake in an instant and stood up from his plastic chair, not even touching the fish cake soup. The student, after a quick swipe of his wooden chopsticks and a quick swipe of his paper cup, looked up at the man.
“Live well.”
"yes?"
“Don’t forget the favor I gave you.”
“…”
“Live right.”
The man thought, "I hope I can see this student again."
“I think so. Starting today.”
That led to a four-year one-sided pursuit, though.
.
Again, present.
“Since when?”
“It’s been quite a while.”
“Since you started living with Kim Tae-soo?”
“…”
Jiha looked back and forth between Taehyung's eyes. For the moment, it was impossible to tell what he was trying to say. He just had that same expression. I wish he'd at least say something. Why wasn't this man responding?
“Since long ago?”
“…”
“You don’t know me?”
“…”
“And yet you just watched?”
It was the moment when Taehyung's eyes visibly wavered. Those eyes, which had been focused solely on the lips pouring out to him, met another pair of eyes, quivering with emptiness. For whatever reason, they were only looking at me. Me, struggling every day on the brink of death.
“That’s why I killed him.”
Taehyung's single statement, speaking of Kim Taesoo's death without any excuses, made Jiha's eyes waver this time. The man's assertion of causality was simply unbelievable. I thought he was just saying it, but his demeanor, so different from before, felt so alien. For example, his agitated eyes, his lips trembling subtly, his breathing becoming irregular. Above all, the way he spoke, as if he were releasing something pent up inside, like a sigh, was etched in my mind and unforgettable.
.
The next day,
Jiha, who had been awakened from a light sleep by the sound of a knock on the door since morning, answered in a muffled voice. "Yes."
“It’s time for breakfast.”
"…yes?"
“Come out and walk to the end of the hallway.”
“No, wait a minute.”
"yes?"
“What is that… royal experience…”
Jiha, who had been trying to choose her words, muddled through. "I don't usually eat breakfast. You don't have to prepare it for me anymore." Jaehyun, who had been quietly listening, ignored the reaction as if he'd expected it and continued. "Yes, I kind of expected that, too. But since it was the boss's order, there's nothing I can do."
It took Jiha a moment to recall Taehyung, who was unfamiliar with the title "CEO." After mulling over his next words, he finally blurted out the question:
“Where is the boss?”
"You're at work."
"When are you coming back?"
"You'll be a little late getting off work today."
“Then can I go out for a bit?”
“Yes, but I must accompany you.”
"yes?"
“This is the boss’s order.”
It was the beginning of a full-scale stalking.