Chapter 102: No Way Back

By the time his legs had stiffened until they no longer felt like his own and dizziness began gnawing through his entire body, he heard the sound of the front gate opening.

The moment he saw Choi Han-geon step outside with a calm, solid expression, Eun-gyeol nearly collapsed on the spot.

Unlike Eun-gyeol, who felt as though he might die at any moment, Han-geon looked comfortable.

The vivid image of him crying, raging, and losing his temper in front of Eun-gyeol was nowhere to be found.

His detached attitude looked almost light-hearted.

It was as if he were saying that now he was free of someone like you, and that he felt at ease.

That was as far as the fragile thread of composure Eun-gyeol had been clinging to could hold.

An indescribable despair came crashing down all at once.

The anger that had consumed him as he thought about Han-geon disappearing for a full week, and the fury that had wrapped around him while gripping the steering wheel on the drive here, had already vanished without a trace.

What filled the space they left behind was nothing but a desperate urge to change Han-geon’s heart.

So he tried desperately to persuade him.

He begged pitifully.

He spoke sincerely and even said that he liked him.

They were probably the words Han-geon had wanted to hear for seventeen years.

“I don’t like you anymore.”

Yet Choi Han-geon treated the confession Eun-gyeol offered like trash and tossed it aside without hesitation.

When Eun-gyeol asked how he could do such a thing, Han-geon calmly asked in return why he could not.

The lifelong promises to protect him and stay with him had turned into worthless scraps with no value left for that boy.

Eun-gyeol could not endure it.

Being miserably rejected by him was already unbearable, but what was hardest to endure was the anxiety.

The fear that Choi Han-geon might turn away once again and disappear back through that f*cking gate.

If that happened, Eun-gyeol felt as though he would truly collapse and die right there.

So he clung to him.

He desperately grabbed Han-geon’s hand again and again, but Han-geon kept shaking him off.

It felt as though the only protector he had trusted in a vast crowd was cruelly brushing his hand away.

An overwhelming fear swelled higher and higher.

The terror of being abandoned by Han-geon was more intense than any emotion Eun-gyeol had ever experienced in his life.

In front of him, the only option left to Eun-gyeol was to fall to his knees and surrender.

“Do whatever you want.

Do whatever you want with me.

If you want to hit me, then hit me.

If you want to curse at me, then curse at me.

Just do that, and then… come back with me.”

As he reached that point, something hot suddenly surged up inside him.

There was nothing to stop the overflowing emotions.

The moment tears spilled down his cheeks, Eun-gyeol’s eyes flew open.

A truth crashed over him like a tidal wave, slamming into his defenseless, trembling body.

So this is what Choi Han-geon had been doing for seventeen years.

It was a word he had never once thought would have anything to do with him in his life.

It was a word he had constantly encountered while acting in countless works, but it had only ever been meaningful in front of a camera.

He had always sneered at people who floundered in the emotion called love.

He could never understand why they wasted their feelings and energy on something so unnecessary and inefficient.

That impression had been the same even as he watched Choi Han-geon cling to him desperately.

But now, the self-loathing, self-reproach, and regret that smothered him to the point of madness did not come from the fact that this unfamiliar emotion had become his own.

They came from the cruel, fucked-up timing of realizing his feelings at last.

Labels like friend, manager, or s*x partner had already been discarded the moment he made Han-geon an omega and imprinted him.

The words about taking responsibility had been sincere.

Now that Han-geon was truly his omega, he had thought he needed to possess him completely.

Had he not felt an unbearable tenderness while watching Han-geon cry and lose consciousness beneath him?

Yes.

If only he had realized it back then.

If he had, things would not have fallen this far into ruin between him and Choi Han-geon.

There had been more chances to realize his feelings than he could count.

Yet he had failed to properly define even his own emotions and behaved foolishly and obtusely.

From that point on, Han-geon’s heart must have slowly turned away.

He must have sorted out his life piece by piece and decided to leave Eun-gyeol behind and come all the way to this distant place.

And now, at the absurdly late timing when Eun-gyeol finally realized his feelings, Choi Han-geon had already become a complete stranger.

He had been far too intoxicated by the unconditional affection Han-geon gave him.

He had never even considered that those feelings might be finite.

For the first time, he found himself pathetic.

If he could, he truly wanted to kill himself for it.

But he had no time to drown in emotion and hate himself.

In front of him was Choi Han-geon, who looked as though he might turn away at any moment.

There was no room to think about anything except holding on to him and not letting him go.

Nothing else mattered.

So he grabbed him and clung to him.

He held onto him while crying.

Eun-gyeol had no immunity at all to the sight of Han-geon acting as though every last shred of affection had drained away.

That was why a single cold glance from him, a single strip of emotionless voice, made Eun-gyeol crumble without defense.

Even to himself, the sight of him begging with tears streaming down his face looked despicable.

Still, he did not care.

He wanted Han-geon to pity him.

He wanted him to change his heart, even if only that way.

If only he could go back home together with Choi Han-geon.

If only he could.

Everything else could turn out however it wanted.

But instead of changing his heart, Han-geon exploded in anger in a way Eun-gyeol had never seen before.

“You should have… even once… sincerely apologized to me.”

Those words struck him in the back of the head like a heavy weapon.

It felt as though Choi Han-geon might turn his back and disappear at any second, as though every moment were the ticking second hand of a time bomb.

And once again, Eun-gyeol’s idiot mouth produced a perfectly wrong answer.

An apology.

An apology.

So that was what Choi Han-geon had wanted to hear.

The belated realization spun blankly through his mind.

Perhaps this boy had wanted to hear those words for a very long time.

If that was what Han-geon wanted, Eun-gyeol could have said it.

He could have said it as many times as needed.

If only he could take Choi Han-geon back with him, there was nothing he could not say.

But the single remaining chance vanished into the air, sneering at his stupidity.

No.

Perhaps the chance had never existed in the first place, from the moment Han-geon turned his back on him and came down here.

Still, if he had said “I’m sorry” first, instead of asking him to come back together.

If he had said he was sorry for treating him carelessly.

If he had said that.

Then maybe Choi Han-geon would have given him even one more minute.

His throat burned as it closed up.

Massive self-reproach came crashing down like rapidly collapsing dominoes, shrouding his vision in darkness.

That was how the chance to face Han-geon’s face ended.

And then Han-geon finally delivered the punishment Eun-gyeol feared the most.

“Go back.

I never want to see you again.”

After saying that, he turned around without hesitation.

Eun-gyeol reached out to grab him, but all he could touch was the retreating outline of his back.

His hand flailed uselessly through the air before dropping limply.

He shook his head a few times to drive away the dizziness that rushed at him like a man-eating demon, but his body staggered weakly.

Before his eyes, the worst possible outcome unfolded like a drama.

The bastard waiting inside the house would gently welcome Han-geon, who had just shaken Eun-gyeol off so coldly.

He would pat the weakened shoulders of Choi Han-geon and tell him he did well.

He would hold Han-geon as he cried.

And then…

At that moment, a blazing red rage boiled up from deep within him.

Words like reporter, police, and driver melted away completely in the lava-like heat.

He pounded on the gate and kicked it with his foot.

He thrashed about in a fury.

f*ck it.

It did not matter what happened anymore.

After all, not being able to return together with Choi Han-geon was the worst thing that could possibly happen to him.

As he kept kicking the gate, the rusted metal shook violently and spat out noise.

The screeching sound drilled unpleasantly into his ears.

Just as he raised his foot to kick it again, his body swayed.

As if mocking him and telling him that the allowed amount of his rampaging ended there, the dizziness that had been spinning in circles seized the moment and lunged at him viciously.

Something cold touched his hip.

The moment he barely managed to lean his back against the wall, his head drooped forward.

His head felt as heavy as if it were weighted with lead.

He slammed his forehead into his knees, which he had only just managed to pull upright.

The breath that slowly spilled from him felt unbearably hot.

It felt as though cold water were dripping onto his hair, one drop at a time.

The consciousness that had briefly lent him life mocked him as a pitiful loser and then mercilessly snatched itself away again.

Just like Choi Han-geon’s back as he turned away without a trace of warmth.