Chapter 110: Hollow Confirmation

His throat tightened painfully.

Why was that.

After all the months he had spent alone, rolling through the mud and suffering like this, after all that time he had forced himself to swallow down the worries and anguish that boy had pressed into his life… he thought that hearing Cha Eun-gyeol was living in misery would at least make him feel a little less wronged.

But the unhappiness he heard about, no longer a vague guess but something confirmed through testimony, was not satisfying at all.

Not satisfying—he did not even feel relief at knowing that he alone was not unhappy.

To gather the emotions surging dully inside him, Han-geon squeezed his eyes shut.

Cha Eun-gyeol was someone who could suffocate him even with news that he was not doing well.

And yet, the person he understood the least was himself.

If he had heard that Eun-gyeol was doing well, he would have been hurt, and now that he heard he was not, he felt hollow all over again—a bundle of contradictions with no end.

The reason he had come here despite the possibility of running into Cha Eun-gyeol was because he believed he would no longer be swayed by him.

He truly thought he had grown much calmer.

Calm enough to watch reruns of Heart for Love on TV and casually tell Podo, “That’s your dad,” without batting an eye.

Calm enough to listen without flinching when the doctor matter-of-factly pointed out that the baby had a small head and long legs, neatly picking out Cha Eun-gyeol’s traits.

But now, listening to his mother talk about him, Han-geon felt the outermost edge of the heart he had so carefully hardened begin to crumble helplessly.

Hearing that Eun-gyeol was not okay made him realize that he was not okay either.

At the news that Eun-gyeol was not at peace, his own heart found no peace at all.

At that moment, his father, who had been silently listening, finally parted his lips heavily.

“Han-geon.”

“…Yes, Father.”

“I’ll ask you straight.

Are you going to… have that child?”

It was a question he had fully expected.

A situation he had rehearsed dozens of times over in his head before coming.

And yet, the moment he heard his father’s question, laden unmistakably with negativity, Han-geon’s heart sank with a dull thud.

He slowly drew in a breath.

Forcing down his uncomfortably racing heartbeat, Han-geon spoke.

Unlike the turmoil inside him, his voice was steady and stubborn, without a single tremor.

“…Yes.

Father, Mother.

I’m sorry.”

“Choi Han-geon, you—!”

His father shot up from the sofa.

The thick, calloused fingers gripping Han-geon’s shoulder trembled violently.

A desperate voice cut him off.

“What are you trying to do.

You’re only twenty-eight.

You haven’t even dated or married yet—you’re in the prime of your youth.

How are you supposed to raise a child all on your own…!”

“…Father.”

At his father’s anguished cry—one he had never heard before—Han-geon’s gaze dropped involuntarily.

But after fixing his eyes on the presence that had caught his vision, Han-geon lifted his head as if resolved.

“…I’m truly sorry.

I’m so sorry that I don’t even know what to say.

But… even so, I’m going to give birth to this child and raise him.”

“Han-geon.

You idiot—raising a child is not something that easy!

Your entire life is on the line!”

“I’m sorry, Father.

This is… my final decision.”

Faced with that calm yet resolute answer, his father lost his words and let out a long, heavy sigh before sinking back onto the sofa.

Beside them, Mother lifted her already-soaked handkerchief to stem the fresh tears spilling out.

Han-geon slowly wrapped a hand around his belly.

As if shielding the baby from the despair and sorrow pouring in from all sides, his touch was steadfast.

“…I also… thought about other options, hundreds of times.

But… I just couldn’t do it.”

“…..”

“This child, who’s taken root inside me, determined to live somehow… I just couldn’t bring myself to cast him aside so easily, Father.”

His gaze dropped briefly to his belly.

Watching the baby, who was vigorously moving even now as if reacting to his words, Han-geon slowly raised his head again.

With eyes firm and unwavering, he continued, looking at both his parents.

“Mother, Father.

He’s… a boy.

His prenatal name is Podo.

I dreamed of green grapes for the dream.

I’m already at thirty-three weeks.

The day he’s born isn’t far off.

And… the ultrasound showed he’s very healthy.

They said his head is small and his legs are long.”

“…..”

“So….”

Halfway through, his throat suddenly clogged.

Han-geon stopped speaking and bit down on his trembling lip.

Meeting his parents’ eyes—eyes filled with nothing but despair—he forced himself to continue.

“…So… I know this is very hard for you right now, but… someday, could you please accept this child too.

This child… hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Father said nothing.

He only stared at Han-geon with a grave expression.

Mother’s sobbing, which had briefly subsided, started up again.

As she cried for a long while, Han-geon lowered his head like a sinner and endured the time in silence.

Everything was in shambles, yet after finally telling them his decision, his heart felt strangely lighter.

Even after deciding to accept Podo, Han-geon had spent countless nights awake, agonizing.

So he chose to believe that he had barely managed to climb over the tallest and steepest hill standing in his way.

Even if his parents were deeply hurt and struggling to accept it now… time would still pass.

Just as his own heart had slowly grown firmer and calmer, his parents’ hearts would eventually do the same.

“What are you going to do… about Eun-gyeol.”

After a long silence, Father finally spoke in a rough voice.

“I can’t forgive that boy either.

But raising a child is a separate matter.

It’s something you both did together, so he has to take responsibility too.”

“…Father.”

“I’m not saying you have to bond with him, or forgive him against your will.

I’m saying that since you made the child together, at the very least, you should prepare the conditions for raising the child together.”

Han-geon slowly, but firmly, shook his head.

“No.

He has… nothing to do with it.

This child is mine.”

“Han-geon!”

“I don’t want to be entangled with him anymore.

I’ll raise the child… on my own.

So please understand it that way….

I’m sorry.”

Silence fell once more.

Only Mother’s thin sobbing pierced the ice-cold stillness.

In that heavy atmosphere, Han-geon could say nothing.

How shocked and heartbroken they must be.

To fall this far with Eun-gyeol, who had grown up like a brother since childhood.

And then their only son suddenly cut off contact and disappeared, only to return with a swollen belly saying these things….

But his guilt stopped there.

Now, Han-geon had no intention of speaking weakly to anyone when it came to this child.

After spending far too long weighing the baby’s very existence on a scale, he no longer wanted to hurt the child.

Not for Cha Eun-gyeol, and not even for his parents.

No matter what reactions they showed, he would protect this child with calm resolve.

Only after a silence that felt like an eternity did Father speak again.

“…I understand your intentions well enough.”

“…..”

“For you, who’ve never once gone against us your whole life, to insist this strongly… it must mean you’re staking your life on this decision.

But.”

His heavy voice hardened.

“I won’t stand by and watch you shoulder that burden alone.

Even if I have to consult Eun-gyeol’s father, I’ll make sure the aftermath is shared.

You should understand that too.

This is where I won’t back down any further.”

At that point, Han-geon had no choice but to yield.

He had come prepared for them to demand that he get rid of the child outright, so he knew they had already compromised greatly.

There was nothing he could do but quietly answer yes.

“My goodness, look at me.

Han-geon, have you eaten?

Since you’re here, you should have dinner and stay the night.”

Once the conversation reached a temporary end, Mother hurriedly stood up, wiping her reddened face with the back of her hand.

“I’ll make the stew you like… eat, get a good night’s rest, okay?”

Han-geon slowly nodded.

In truth, he had planned to leave quickly, afraid that staying at his parents’ house too long would make his heart feel heavy and childish again, but he could not bring himself to upset Mother any further.

The meal passed in uncomfortable silence.

Even then, Father set down his spoon halfway through and stood up.

Han-geon watched his father’s back as he left the house, unable to finish even half his bowl of rice, cigarette case in hand, with a bitter expression.

“Don’t feel too hurt.

Your father’s just upset.”

Mother spoke softly as she piled meat into Han-geon’s bowl.

Han-geon forced a smile and moved his chopsticks with exaggerated cheer.

“Of course he is….

I’m okay.”

“Right.

For now, eat plenty.

You need strength to do anything.

Oh dear… by the way, do you still have morning sickness?

Why does your face look so drawn?”

“It’s okay.

It’s almost gone now.”

His mother’s food, tasted for the first time in months, was so delicious it nearly brought him to tears.

The familiar flavors stirred up a nostalgia he had buried deep in his heart and deliberately ignored.

Even as he ate, his throat tightened again and again, forcing him to stop lifting his spoon several times.

But Han-geon clenched his teeth and hid it.

If he showed weakness now, he feared even his mother—who was desperately pretending to be okay—might completely collapse.

So he finished the entire bowl bravely, cleaning out every bit of soup and side dishes.

After the meal, following Mother’s insistence that he rest for today without thinking about anything, Han-geon headed to his room.

The sight of the neatly kept room made his breath catch for no reason.

She had said Cha Eun-gyeol waited for him here.

That he begged just to be allowed inside, saying he wanted to smell him.

Just as Han-geon had once suffered, longing for a trace of Eun-gyeol’s pheromones, that boy too had clawed his way back here, clinging to Han-geon’s remnants……

Carefully sitting on the bed, Han-geon lifted the blanket and brought it to his nose.

In that instant, every cell in his body reacted sharply, nerves standing on end.

The scent buried deep within it was unmistakably his—as if he had been here just moments ago.

Startled, Han-geon flung the blanket away as if burned.

It felt as though Eun-gyeol had touched him with those familiar, heated fingers.

Though it was nothing more than a faint trace, barely more than crumbs, the pheromone scent was powerful enough to shake Han-geon to his core.

His trembling gaze slowly swept the room.

The bed where they had rolled around and played, and where they had once shared their bodies while holding their breath.

The bookshelf lined with books they had read together during their school days.

Even the shoebox sitting atop the shelf.

Memories dragged at him like a thick swamp.

The mingling of pain as vivid as a fresh wound and memories now dulled into an ache threatened to swallow Han-geon whole, violently shaking the composure he had fought so hard to maintain.

This won’t do.

Han-geon staggered to his feet.

To casually eat, sleep, and pass time here was impossible—this place was too deeply entangled with Eun-gyeol.

It was his room, yet it was not his room.

The owner of this space had always carried someone else in his heart instead of himself.

He opened the door and stepped out, but seeing Mother’s puzzled face as she asked where he was going, he could not bring himself to say he was leaving like this.

Saying he would get some air, Han-geon put on his clothes.

If he walked around the neighborhood for a bit… maybe his thoughts would settle.

Just as he grasped the doorknob and pulled it open.

The moment the door cracked open, a presence brushing against his senses made Han-geon’s eyes widen.

Before he could even fully recognize the person standing outside, the sensations stirred up moments ago surged back violently, every nerve on edge.

“…Choi… Han-geon.”

A single voice he both loathed and longed for, even in his dreams.

Cha Eun-gyeol stood outside the door, staring at him in a daze as he called his name.