"You look taken aback," Yui-Hyuk sneered, his voice dripping with malice as he reveled in Yeon-Jun's horrified expression upon seeing the grim photographs from the day his parents died. The images displayed two charred bodies, burnt beyond recognition, their mouths gaping open in a silent scream, multiple stab wounds marring their once-familiar forms. Yeon-Su's eyes went wide with raw terror; he gagged, the bile rising in his throat as he fell off his chair, desperately retreating from the horror unleashed before him. "Oh, is this not the memory you had? Do they not resemble your parents?" Yui-Hyuk tilted his head, a sinister smile creeping onto his face as if he were savoring every moment of Yeon-Jun's despair. As the truth sank in, Yeon-Jun's trembling fingers brushed against the photographs, his mind battling against a fog of forgotten memories, fragments of a past he'd tried so hard to escape. A world he wished had never existed, a life he'd fought to ignore. "Ah..." He thought, a flicker of realization igniting in his mind. "So someone else knows... At least I can confirm what had been swirling in my mind." There was a strange sense of relief in knowing his instincts were validated—that he was justified in experiencing the whirlwind of emotions tied to such traumatic memories. But a singular question gnawed at him: Why did he still hold onto these memories so vividly? If he never knew they were real. Why were they never forgotten like any other nightmare? And why did Yui-Hyuk know about them?
"It appears there are numerous secrets that were kept from you," Yui-Hyuk chuckled darkly, rummaging through the stack of photographs before revealing one where Sung-Hoon stood smiling beside his father, accompanied by a man dressed in a sharp suit who clutched a cane. Yeon-Jun recognized the faces—his heart raced, yet the chaotic storm in his mind left him unable to grasp the implications. Just then, Yeon-Su rejoined them at the table, his shock deepening as tears welled in his eyes. "Hyung..." he whispered hoarsely, voice trembling. "The burn marks..." Despite Yeon-Jun's efforts to shield the horrors of his past from those he cared about, Yeon-Su had somehow unearthed the truth, the haunting evidence of their shared tragedy slicing through the air. Yui-Hyuk handed Yeon-Su the selected photograph, urging him to identify the people it captured. "Boss, his father, and..." Yeon-Su blurted out, his voice barely a whisper. Yeon-Jun's gaze snapped to him, heart racing as he took the image back, placing it down with a heavy hand.
"Everyone in this picture knows each other." Yeon-Jun's pulse quickened as he dashed into the apartment, leaving his shoes on as he raced toward Sung-Hoon's door. He stumbled to a halt in front of it, collapsing onto the cold floor, gripping the doorknob tightly, but it was locked—a painful reminder of the boundaries Sung-Hoon had enforced since they moved. "And two of them have crossed paths not long ago." Panic surged through him; he pushed against the door with all his strength, but it remained immobile. In a frantic rush, he sprinted to the kitchen, grabbing the largest knife he could find, and began hacking at the door knob with desperate intensity. "And the older man gifted the younger one a cherished photo book and an heirloom that had held great significance to his father." With a final desperate swing, the door knob shattered, tumbling away as Yeon-Jun burst into the room. His heart raced as he tore through drawers and cabinets, the chaos of his mind reflected in the whirlwind of movement.
His eyes landed on a delicate music box resting inside a cabinet, ornate and filled with an unsettling nostalgia. With trembling hands, he opened the box, twisting the knob as the haunting melody began to play, intertwined with a faint echo of a heated argument between two men, a woman pleading for peace amidst the chaos.
"Hyung!" Yeon-Su shouted as he burst into the room, his face pale, but it was already too late. The visceral screams that carved through the air were muffled in an instant, replaced by the chilling sound of rain pelting the window and thunder rumbling ominously in the distance. The music box slipped from Yeon-Jun's fingers, crashing onto the floor just as his knees synchronized. His thoughts raced faster than his heart. However, it wasn't the exposition of his parents' last moments or the confirmation of his memories that hurt him the most. It was the fact that "he knew..."
"When are you going to stop bringing me people that obviously came to only hook up?" Sung-Hoon asked, his voice tinged with exasperation as he and Tae-Min strolled back to the cafe, trying to sober up after a night filled with raucous drinking and off-key singing. The lingering smell of cigarettes and spilled drinks hung in the air, remnants of the lively atmosphere they had just left behind. Tae-Min let out a mocking scoff, nudging Sung-Hoon's shoulder playfully. "Oh please, you're the one who's clearly just a playboy," he retorted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Why should I waste my time setting up lovely girls with you when, deep down, we both know you'll just lead them on and never truly commit?"
Sung-Hoon chuckled in response, acknowledging the truth of Tae-Min's jab. He had never shied away from admitting that he wasn't looking for anything serious; after all, he believed that his thirties were the perfect time to embrace life's pleasures without the weight of premature commitments looming over him. "Seriously though," Tae-Min interjected, coming to a stop and grasping Sung-Hoon's wrist, forcing him to face him. "Why are you being like this? You go out with so many people, yet you don't really like anyone. I get that you want to enjoy your youth, but you're not even making an effort. Is it because of Yeon-Jun?"
The air thickened with tension at the mention of Yeon-Jun. Sung-Hoon's smile faltered, revealing the raw emotions beneath his calm exterior. "If I ever find someone I love and care for more than him," he replied, a shadow crossing his face, "then I might as well just die. The guilt I carry won't allow me to live. Even if he eventually settles down and builds a life of his own, I'll never be able to love anyone the way I love him. It wouldn't be fair to anyone who became my partner; no one deserves to be someone's second choice." His words, though sound in rationale, left a bitter taste in Tae-Min's mouth, a realization of the depth of Sung-Hoon's internal struggle.
Tae-Min's heart ached with concern, and he hesitated before asking, "What kind of guilt exactly? Do you feel responsible because he's nonverbal? That's not something you should blame yourself for." Sung-Hoon let out a soft, sardonic chuckle, amused by Tae-Min's innocent naivety. With a gentle shake of his head, he turned away, a clear indication that he wasn't ready to delve deeper into the emotional labyrinth of his past. Tae-Min fell into step beside him, the silence settling between them like a heavy blanket. They both shared unspeakable burdens, originating from troubled backgrounds, and had come to a silent agreement: questions could be raised, but some were never meant to be answered. It was a tacit respect they held for one another, yet the unspoken bond was on the verge of being tested.
Just then, a high-pitched voice sliced through the tension, pulling their attention sharply away. "Sung-Hoon!" Yixan came barreling toward them, her hair flying wildly as she sprinted, her face flushed and frantic. She barely managed to stop in front of them, her breath coming in ragged gasps, panic etched across her features. Sung-Hoon instinctively reached out to support her, concern etching his brow. "What happened?" he asked urgently, sensing something was wrong. She struggled to articulate her thoughts, the words tumbling out in a rush. "He found out…" she said breathlessly, her eyes wide with distress. "Yui-Hyuk…"
The mention of Yui-Hyuk struck Tae-Min like a bolt of lightning. He hadn't realized Yixan was still in contact with him, and the implications of her words sent a wave of anxiety coursing through him. "He told him…" Yixan continued, and Tae-Min glanced at Sung-Hoon, witnessing the horror, shock, and disbelief flooding his friend's expression. In that moment, it became painfully clear: the events which took place that day were not only devastating for one person, but they ruined the lives of so many others, and just because one person decided to do it. It was proven, secrets hold more power than anything.
"Do you remember me?" Yixan's voice trembled softly as she guided Sung-Hoon to the dimly lit communal area of the building, where the somber echoes of his father's funeral lingered like a heavy fog. Sung-Hoon nodded slowly, a hesitant smile flickering across Yixan's face, and relief washed over her like a gentle tide. Her fingers curled around his hand, and with a sentimental nostalgia, she unveiled a small ring—a token from their childhood. It was the very ring Sung-Hoon had given her years ago as a heartfelt apology, a symbol of their innocence and shared dreams.
"Do you remember this?" Yixan asked, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and memory. Sung-Hoon's heart ached as he beheld the ring, a precious keepsake his mother had entrusted to him before she passed away. That day, when he had offered it to Yixan, he hoped to convey how deeply sorry he felt and how much he wanted their friendship to bloom anew. "You said that as long as I have this, I can come to you whenever I'm troubled. Like a transaction card," she said with a soft chuckle, the sound lightening the heavy air. Sung-Hoon couldn't help but share a brief smile, the memory momentarily lifting the weight resting on his chest.
"I'm all alone now, and I need a friend. Would you help me?" Yixan's voice quivered with fragile hope, yet Sung-Hoon felt as though his own gaze reflected nothing but shadows. He sighed deeply, gently placing the ring back into her palm, his heart tightening.
"You wouldn't want a friend like me," he replied, his tone laden with despair. With trembling fingers, he pulled a worn photograph from his pocket and presented it to Yixan. "The boy you saw back there," he said, gesturing to the smiling infant cradled by his parents in the photograph, their faces aglow with joy. "That's him. And those are his parents—two wonderful people that I murdered," he confessed, his voice cracking under the weight of grief as tears cascaded down his cheeks. "And now I'm supposed to find a way to tell him, while praying that my only family doesn't abandon me…"
Overwhelmed, he crouched down, feeling the world around him blur as he surrendered to his grief. In that moment, Yixan transformed into the one person he didn't have to shield himself from, a poignant foreshadowing of the bond they would share.
"It's okay," Yixan said soothingly, bending beside him to gently pat his back. She recognized that he likely only allowed himself to cry in front of her; he was the one who carried the burdens for others and was always expected to be the strong one. But now, in this cocoon of shared sorrow, he was merely an individual grappling with the loss of his father and fearing the imminent loss of his only family due to circumstances beyond his control.
"It's okay," Yixan whispered repeatedly, her words a balm to his aching heart until his tears finally subsided. "You don't ever have to tell him, or lose him. I promise I'll help you. In return, just help me." Their first agreement wasn't rooted in the trust of friendship but rather a complex relationship bound by obligation—an obligation now irrevocably altered.
"Did you tell Yixan?" Yui-Hyuk inquired, eyes gleaming with mischief as he sat back in the car. Up front, Joong-Ho gripped the steering wheel, his expression composed.
"Yes, sir. I sent the recording to her," Joong-Ho replied, maintaining his focus. Yui-Hyuk erupted into a fit of laughter, the sound sharp and malicious. "Oh, how I wish I could've witnessed her reaction. What a delight!"
With a sly glance out the window, he turned back to Joong-Ho. "If anyone else ever gets their hands on that recording, you'll be nothing but ash, just like the people in that photograph." Joong-Ho responded with a stoic nod, fully familiar with the depths of Yui-Hyuk's ruthlessness.
"The world will soon see that no one is as perfect as my grandson, and no one is as perfect for him as the person I chose today." His long struggle had finally come to an end, and his plan was now fulfilled. "This is going to be so much fun!"