It hadn’t begun.
Nothing at all.
Everything was over.
All of it, completely, utterly ended.
If it had been written as a novel, it would have undoubtedly drawn curses for its unreasonable and horrific conclusion.
Such an ending was not what anyone wished for.
Neither I nor Lee Seon-a.
And neither did Lee Cheon.
News flashes were pouring out on the TV.
The words were reading well.
Too well.
The fact that Lee Cheon had died in a car accident.
It was said that he was on his way to the court, riding in a car. It was still unclear who was at fault, but it was said that Lee Cheon’s car had collided with a truck.
Could it have been suicide? But that absurd possibility was soon negated by the following details.
It wasn’t Lee Cheon driving the car, but rather his chauffeur. Miraculously, the chauffeur survived without major injuries. The driver of the truck was the same.
At that point, the possibility of suicide disappeared completely.
If he had intended to kill himself, he would have driven himself. No chauffeur would willingly agree to die alongside him.
So, Lee Cheon’s traffic accident was a thorough accident.
At the time of the accident, it was said that Lee Cheon was not wearing a seatbelt, and he suffered a severe impact that fractured his skull and caused significant brain damage. He was rushed to the hospital, but he never regained consciousness. Before even entering the operating room, he stopped breathing and was pronounced dead.
The conclusion of the story was so terrible that it drew a hollow laugh.
There were no foreshadowings for such an ending. Even if there had been, no one knew them.
No one expected it, and no one wanted it. That was the kind of ending it was.
It was, quite literally, the absurd and unreasonable period of fate.
If a shocking twist ending has enough persuasion, readers become enthusiastic about it. They recommend the work to friends while anxious that they cannot adequately explain what is so great about it. Anything they say is a spoiler. Even the phrase “The twist is amazing” is a spoiler.
But there was no reader who would love such an ending, devoid of any persuasion, basis, or foreshadowing. Who would want such an ending?
If there was a person writing such a story, I would have wanted to grab them by the collar. Why did they produce such a trashy ending?
Yeah, it was trash.
This ending was unquestionably a horrifically cowardly and vile conclusion.
It must have been painful.
It must have been hard to die.
It must have been scary.
But so what?
Was the pain he felt in that moment greater, more difficult, or scarier than everything Lee Seon-a experienced as his daughter? Could that single moment of pain be greater than those decades of time?
I couldn’t overestimate my pain to the extent of associating it with his death. I wanted to die, but I didn’t.
However, the crimes he committed weren’t just ended with me, and they couldn’t end like this.
And it shouldn’t have ended before a conclusion was reached.
His death should have at least happened after he lost in court and became a criminal.
He shouldn’t have died without any results.
It was the dirtiest conclusion in the world.
He won and escaped.
Now, both I and Lee Seon-a would forever be the losers.
It was terrible.
This godforsaken ending was so miserable that I couldn’t utter a word.
The unreasonable, absurd, and goddamn reality was too filthy.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t want to offer my tears to him.
I couldn’t even express my anger. I didn’t know who or what to be angry at.
Lee Cheon had already died. He was gone.
Then who should I hold accountable? The chauffeur? The truck driver? This reality that delivered him death? The fate that designed this situation?
No one but the dead had done anything wrong.
So no one could be blamed.
So all I could do was claw at my chest and scream.
I screamed, but no sound came out. So that didn’t even qualify as a scream.
I just muttered something quietly. No one could tell what I was saying.
~
Ham Yejin returned less than two hours after the news flash. The password was entered rapidly, and the door opened. Ham Yejin, who came in, was panting as if she had run, sweating profusely. It was a much earlier finish than usual.
At that point, I had already calmed down. One instance of vomiting my thoughts onto this trashy ending was enough. Any further despair, sadness, or hollowness was meaningless. If all this was to serve as an offering for the deceased, then it shouldn’t be that way.
The TV that was on showed a rerun of a variety show that Ham Yejin and I often watched together. I was blankly absorbing it.
As soon as Ham Yejin saw me, she asked.
“Are you okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“…About that incident.”
“What’s there to not be okay about?”
“…”
“Such a person died. It’s all quite refreshing. It’s a bit disappointing in terms of the ending, but… well, what can you do? It’s already over.”
“…”
“I’m a little angry, though. I wonder why he had to die so soon.”
“…”
“I think the timing of heaven’s punishment was a bit late.”
Ham Yejin seemed unsure of what to say. It couldn’t be helped. I didn’t know what to say either.
It was obvious I couldn’t say, “You must be disappointed that your enemy died.” If I had said something like that, even Ham Yejin would have recommended a mental hospital. Of course, I would have to go with her.
I understood Ham Yejin’s position.
Offering consolation for the death of the perpetrator was nonsensical, and saying it was good that the perpetrator died also made no sense. A death without paying the proper price was an escape and peace. His death itself was akin to the worst mockery for me and Lee Seon-a.
This was the only literary value that this miserable twist without any foreshadowing possessed. This ironic and pathetic ending turned common sense on its head.
So while Ham Yejin rushed over, worried about me, she could say nothing.
We hadn’t yet developed words to use in such a situation.
“The situation aligned perfectly. I was planning to go out today, but now it’s all completely finished. There was a high probability that this trial wouldn’t be the end, but even if that was the case, I was thinking of going out, and now it’s neatly concluded. So today, as promised, I’m going home.”
The intent to return home was sincere. I had no intention of changing my words now and felt even less concerned since the risk factor had completely vanished.
“However… are you really okay?”
“I am okay. Completely okay. Besides, I can’t just be sad or angry, can I?”
“Well… that’s true.”
“Being sad or angry about the death of such a person feels like a waste of emotion.”
It was absurd that I expressed regret over wasted sentiments after having poured out all my feelings. Yet I could not simply regurgitate my previous feelings as they were.
And more than anything, I really wanted to return home.
I felt exhausted.
I thought I was very tired, but apparently not yet.
I felt even more worn out.
I wanted to rest.
Of course, Ham Yejin’s home was a comfortable place. A cozy and pleasant cradle.
But I needed time to rest alone. Being at Ham Yejin’s home was not resting.
Resting was about grappling with the traumas and pains within myself, chewing them up finely, swallowing them, vomiting, and then picking up what I had vomited.
I had to digest my emotions through that process and make them one within me. A part of my body, one with my soul, my heart.
That was true resting.
To rest, in essence, was self-torture.
“Well then… it can’t be helped.”
Perhaps my acting had improved a bit, as Ham Yejin seemed to agree with my words. But still, not fully reassured, her speech trailed off. So I spoke to reassure Ham Yejin.
“About that counseling we talked about before. I’ve thought it over.”
“Counseling, yes.”
“I’m thinking of seeking counseling. I’m not sure if it will help, but… anyway, I plan to do so.”
This was a concession. A gift for Ham Yejin, personally offered by me for her reassurance.
Fortunately, Ham Yejin seemed pleased with this gift.
“Well, that’s a good thought. I’ll prepare it right away and let you know the next time we meet.”
“Thank you.”
That word was equivalent to granting permission for me to leave this house. Of course, I didn’t actually need permission to leave, but perhaps Ham Yejin needed that.
Looks like my condition seemed better than expected, as Ham Yejin gradually relaxed her expression.
We had an early dinner together. We chatted a bit, discussing what to do after returning and future plans.
After dinner, there wasn’t enough time for a long movie, so we simply turned on the TV and watched the first channel that came up. It was a juvenile animation, and it seemed neither I nor Ham Yejin was particularly focused on the content.
Then, we packed my things. It wasn’t much. The box containing the clothes given by Madame would be sent separately later. We left the house with Ham Yejin without dragging our feet or wasting time.
Ham Yejin was going to drive me home, but before that, we took a brief walk through the streets we often walked together.
The conversation continued. We actually spoke even more than usual. Both I and Ham Yejin.
After finishing a lap of the streets we commonly walked, Ham Yejin pulled the car out.
I got into Ham Yejin’s car, and soon the wheels were rolling.
As always, the driving was careful and comfortable.
I didn’t feel nauseous.
Naturally, I couldn’t engage in a long conversation while driving.
I found myself gradually falling silent, picking up the conversation we’d had earlier.
The night sky shone without a single star.
“…We’ve arrived.”
We had arrived home.
I got out of the car.
Ham Yejin also got out.
Ham Yejin said nothing and led the way into the house. Then, standing in front of my door, she naturally punched in the password.
I hadn’t changed the password.
1224
The smell of the long-emptied house was present.
“I guess I’ll have to clean.”
“Shall I help?”
“It’s fine.”
And it seemed neither of us knew what to say specifically.
For a moment, we stood in silence, not saying anything.
“…It’s a bit awkward.”
That it ended so suddenly.
Even though I lived close enough to see her again tomorrow and we weren’t parting forever, it felt quite awkward.
“What do you mean?”
“I just don’t know how to say goodbye. How did we normally do it? I don’t think it was that dramatic of a farewell.”
“Do we need something like that?”
“Perhaps.”
Ham Yejin took a step closer.
Then she bent down and hugged me tightly, just like that day.
“Would this be enough?”
“…It’s plenty.”
But it was different from that day.
After a slightly dramatic farewell, Ham Yejin stepped out. The content of the farewell was neither “Adieu,” “Sayōnara,” nor anything significant. It was simply a regular goodbye.
It was a parting of “See you tomorrow.”
Ham Yejin left and I remained alone.
It had been a long time, indeed.
Although it was less than a month, it felt like a long time.
I unpacked my things. Then I cleaned the corner of the house where there was hardly anything to remove. Just clearing away some dust was sufficient. I mean, there had to be something to clean up.
I felt outstandingly good.
My mind was clear for the first time in a while. Enough to fall into sleep.
The night grew deep, and it was time to sleep now. Originally, I wasn’t the type to stick to a strict sleep schedule, but during my time at Ham Yejin’s house, I had grown accustomed to it.
I lay down on the familiar sofa.
I covered myself with a blanket and hugged a pillow.
I didn’t dream.
I decided that way.
I missed the plush bed, but I fell asleep well.
Thus, that day came to an end.
It was an ordinary day.
~
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Before the blood could spill, the story couldn’t end… was it said?
Truly so.
My crotch was damp.
The smell of blood was overwhelming.
My underwear was stained red.
Indeed, it was so.
I woke up.
Something had begun.
