Kang Jihwan disappeared so quickly that Seonyeong didn't even have time to move. Only empty air remained where he had stood. The city was silent, as if ashamed to be a witness. A cold wind struck his face, and even his own breath felt alien.
He returned home, not remembering how he had walked. On autopilot, he opened the door, took off his coat, and froze in the middle of the room. One scene kept replaying in his mind: Jihwan's eyes, full of tears, and the expression of a person in pain who was trying to hide it.
«He... cried? Because I left with someone else?»
The thought stung. He ran a hand over his face, as if to erase the memory. Everything had been calculated—planned to lure him into honesty, to force him to show feeling, to prove that everything he said before was a lie. And yet, when he saw Jihwan trembling, clenching his fists, looking away—there was no victory. There was only the feeling that he had broken something.
«What is wrong with me? Why do I feel guilty?»
He smiled, without joy. Once, he could coldly plunge a syringe, kidnap, beat, erase an entire life from memory—and not bat an eye. But now, because of someone else's tears, everything inside him felt soft, as if someone had ripped out the part of him that knew how to be cruel.
He got up, paced the room, and ran his hands through his hair. «Yes, I went too far. I pushed too hard. I shouldn't have escalated it to the motel.» Perhaps Jihwan, lacking experience, perceived intimacy as something sacred. And he, deciding to play on that, had turned everything into a farce.
His phone vibrated on the table. Gyuhyeok.
— Your discipline is ironclad, — he said, with a smirk audible in his voice. — He's afraid to even show up now. He thinks if he breaks his word, you'll cut him off completely. And he's not wrong; you are merciless, Hyungnim.
— Ah. — Seonyeong rubbed his temple. The other man's words echoed in his head.
Gyuhyeok continued:
— But if he cried—it means he's genuinely trying. With his personality, he wouldn't have given in if he didn't want to earn forgiveness. Usually, he would have burst into the motel and beaten that guy half to death.
Seonyeong remained silent, unsure how to reply. Gyuhyeok, noticing the pause, changed his tone:
— By the way, I kept surveillance on him. I'll take it down if you want.
— No need. — Seonyeong's voice was dull. — Let him do whatever he wants.
— Alright. But you should clear your head. Don't fixate on him. Go out somewhere. Who knows, maybe he'll show up then.
After the call, the silence in the room became especially thick. Seonyeong clutched his phone and slumped onto the couch. He turned on the TV simply for noise. Outside the windows, the city glowed like a water surface, and the sky felt low and heavy.
«He said he'd show up when I was alone?»
He chuckled. Alone—that was his natural state. No cafes, no walks under the sun—everything felt alien. Night, a bar, music—that's where he breathed.
A couple of hours later, he was sitting in the lounge on the top floor of the "Mirassa" hotel. The space smelled of expensive liquor, marble, and something subtly sweet. The city lights reflected in the glass like a myriad of golden sparks. Conversations at neighboring tables were in hushed tones, as if afraid of shattering the fragile atmosphere.
Seonyeong was escorted to a table by the window. He ordered a drink and stared mindlessly at the surveillance cameras near the ceiling. «If he didn't come himself, then he's watching from here.» He raised his glass, took a sip, and smiled wryly. All he could do was wait.
He had just ordered a couple more cocktails when someone stopped nearby. A delicate scent of peach perfume—and a female voice, soft and insinuating:
— Are you alone?
He looked up—and nearly choked. Im Lo. The very one. Alive, calm, smiling, as if she remembered nothing. A white tweed jacket, a neat mini-skirt—modest, almost innocent.
— I've been watching you for a while, — she said. — It looks like you're alone. Or did you get stood up?
Seonyeong froze. «No... it can't be. The hypnosis worked. She shouldn't remember.»
— Do you... know me? — he asked cautiously.
Im Lo laughed, shaking her head:
— No. But somehow it feels like I do. Probably just déjà vu. You're completely my type.
The same gaze, the same tilt of the head. Seonyeong felt that strange sensation rise in his throat—a mix of relief and confusion. So, the hypnosis hadn't failed after all. She stepped closer:
— If you don't mind, it's my treat.
And at that very moment, someone grabbed her wrist. The movement was fast, like a strike.
— Excuse me, but he is not alone.
A low voice cut through the noise of the hall like a blade. Seonyeong looked up—and froze. Kang Jihwan stood before him. The very person he couldn't lure out from under the ground. In a dark chestnut coat, wearing a black mask. His eyes were cold, focused, as if something unshowable was boiling behind them.
Im Lo sharply pulled her hand away:
— And who are you to grab strangers?
— And who are you to harass other people's company? — Jihwan retorted.
Seonyeong nearly laughed. «Yes, that's exactly how he always talked. Even the intonation is the same.» Im Lo, unsure how to reply, turned to Seonyeong:
— Is he with you?
— Yes. — The words escaped before he could think.
Jihwan straightened imperceptibly, as if relieved. And Im Lo was embarrassed by the address that followed:
— Our young master is not one to socialize with just anyone, — Jihwan said evenly.
«What?!» — Seonyeong nearly dropped his glass. Everyone around them paused. Curiosity was written in their eyes. Im Lo, feeling the guests' attention fixed on her, pressed her lips together.
— Who are you, anyway?
— You don't need to know. Leave if you're done, — he replied without blinking.
The silence stretched. Then Lo's heels tapped dryly on the floor—and she left without looking back. When the doors closed behind her, Seonyeong and Jihwan remained standing opposite each other. There were several meters between them, but the air felt dense, heavy, like water. People at neighboring tables even stopped talking.
Seonyeong got up, and approached closer.
— Let's talk.
Jihwan looked at him, long, almost studying him. Then quietly nodded:
— Alright.
He looked as if he had been waiting for those words. Seonyeong wasn't the only one who wanted explanations.