Chapter 6: The Man Who Forgot

I thought I had barely escaped from hell, but I hadn’t.

The place where Haesu stood was still hell.

Maybe even this was just Choi Haesu’s illusion.

Perhaps he had wanted too much.

Sometimes he imagined Kwon Seha waking up and living happily by his side again.

Maybe this was the punishment for dreaming such futile dreams.

Haesu thought Doyoon was talking nonsense.

Even though he knew Doyoon wasn’t the type to joke like this, he believed he was being teased.

That was the first thought that came to him.

Even if it was meant to ease tension, there should be limits.

If blood could turn cold, this might be what it felt like.

The tingling tension that had filled his fingertips faded, leaving him in a state where he could feel nothing at all.

Even so, there was something Haesu had to do.

He had been waiting for this day, after all.

He didn’t know what words or what kind of look he would receive from Kwon Seha, but still.

“Let’s go see Seha. I want to see him.”

“…I don’t know either. Why… why he can’t remember your name…”

Haesu stared at Doyoon, who was holding his hand.

Doyoon’s face had darkened, and he couldn’t meet Haesu’s eyes.

Perhaps even Doyoon, an outsider, couldn’t believe the loss that might soon fall upon Haesu.

“Mr. Doyoon.”

“……”

“I want to see Seha.”

“Haesu…”

The feeling of standing on hellish ground still hadn’t faded.

But even so, Choi Haesu didn’t want to just stand still.

“I want to see him right now. I want to look at his face and greet him. It’s been too long since I’ve done that.”

Doyoon’s cold hands were nothing compared to Haesu’s.

His trembling lips were nothing compared to Haesu’s, which were already torn apart.

He knew what Haesu had wished for.

Haesu had always prayed for Seha to wake up.

But even so, after waiting on him for a year, there was no way Haesu could easily accept that the man couldn’t remember his name.

“Let’s go. Quickly.”

Haesu was probably collapsing even at this very moment.

Knowing that, Doyoon chose to be deceived by Haesu’s act of strength.

Doyoon himself was no less shaken.

As they approached the hospital room, the loud bustle of medical staff could be heard.

Nurses and doctors moved in and out, holding various things in their hands.

Among them was the doctor who had visited Seha’s room every single day since his hospitalization.

Haesu, who had stopped walking, bit his swollen lips again.

Watching this, Doyoon placed a hand on Haesu’s shoulder, as if to stop him.

“I’ve already met him. So… you go in first.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t know how Seha would react.

After steadying himself for a long time, Haesu slipped his hand through the slightly open door.

Even without saying anything, his throat was already tightening.

“Seha.”

Will he really not remember me?

Could Doyoon be mistaken?

The last bit of hope scattered with each step he took.

“……”

There was no answer from Seha, who still couldn’t sit up.

Perhaps he had been asleep—Seha, who had his eyes closed, slowly opened them at the sound of his name.

Haesu approached and took him in with his eyes.

Memories of all the times he had talked to him alone surfaced, and he bit his lower lip.

Strangely, instead of asking if he had slept well or if he was in pain, tears came first.

“Seha…”

“……”

“Thank you for waking up.”

For not dying and leaving Choi Haesu behind.

These were words he had muttered like a monologue every day in front of the sleeping Seha—but now he had truly opened his eyes.

The moment he saw Seha’s eyes, it felt like the despair barely hanging at the edge of all his memories was half lifted.

“…Who are you?”

So he felt like he would collapse at any moment, but somehow he endured.

The forced smile trembled along with his eyelashes.

“Haesu. Choi Haesu.”

His voice, pretending to be calm, sounded insignificant.

Haesu didn’t dare to grab Seha’s hand or touch his face as he pleased.

Seha’s eyes, newly awakened from a long sleep, were still dazed.

Haesu quietly sat beside him and looked at his pale face, sharp nose, and dry but beautiful lips.

As he did, it truly was Kwon Seha.

The one he loved…

“Sometimes it feels like you really care about me a lot, sir…”

[What nonsense, seriously.]

“Then why do you keep giving me storyboards and scripts?”

To someone who’s desperate to die.

Of course, he didn’t say that part out loud.

It had already been five years.

People thought Choi Haesu had retired.

An actor who was doing well but unfortunately faded away.

Sometimes, very rarely, someone would remember how much they liked his performances in films and dramas.

A pitiful actor.

It wasn’t entirely wrong.

After the accident, Haesu canceled all his schedules himself and never returned to acting.

It was closer to being unable to than unwilling.

Because he had realized there was something even scarier than being forgotten by people.

[Do you think someone with your looks is common? It’s a waste, such a waste…]

“You still bring in people you like just fine. I don’t believe you anymore.”

Though a bit stubborn, Haesu was kind to those around him.

He knew that the concept plans and scripts Director Yoon sometimes sent to his house weren’t truly about wanting him to return to acting anymore.

It took about three years for him to realize.

Even without asking or hearing it said outright, Haesu understood what worried this man—and how others saw him as well.

“Are you doing well? You’re not sick anywhere, right?”

[Take care of yourself first, Haesu. You first.]

“I’m doing fine.”

[Yeah, right.]

Since Haesu acted like he had given up on life, these calls were just a way to check if he was still holding on.

At some point, Haesu decided not to ignore them anymore.

He knew that when he picked up the phone and talked, Director Yoon would feel relieved without realizing it.

“I even went out yesterday. You worry too much.”

[I know. Just accept it.]

“You sound like you’re giving allowance to a nephew during holidays.”

[I don’t have money for you. You don’t even work.]

They contacted each other about once a month.

Today too, waking up without a fixed time, Haesu saw the missed calls and called him back.

Usually, the call would end after a while.

But today it dragged on, as if Director Yoon still had something left to say.

The trivial conversation continued.

The sound of Haesu’s glass clinking against the marble counter slipped into the silence between them.

“Haesu. I heard.”

“…Heard what?”

“About Director Kwon.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have answered the call today.

He swallowed the water that filled his mouth.

Director Kwon.

He knew exactly who that referred to.

If it was news about Kwon Seha, Haesu likely already knew it too.

“I heard yesterday. I even got the invitation.”

[…Did he give it to you himself?]

“No way.”

A hollow laugh escaped as he listened.

He felt like he needed to wet his throat with every word, nearly finishing the glass.

“Haesu. If you didn’t hear it from him directly… wouldn’t it be better not to go?”

“Why is everyone so desperate to stop me from going to Seha’s wedding?”

[…Obviously, because we’re worried.]

What are you worried about?

That I’ll cause a scene and say I want to die in front of everyone?

Director Yoon only clicked his tongue.

He wasn’t wrong.

Haesu wasn’t the type to do something like that, even at someone else’s wedding.

He was just irritated after hearing all day, “Can’t you just not go?”

“I’m going. It’s Seha’s wedding.”

[…Fine, then.]

“I know what you’re worried about. But this time, I think I’m right.”

“Alright, Haesu.”

“I’ll hang up now. If you come to the wedding, I’ll see you there.”

The call ended.

He no longer needed to drink water and set the glass down.

He stood there without even thinking of sitting on the sofa.

Then his eyes fell on the bag he hadn’t unpacked since going out yesterday.

He reached out and opened it.

The assignment from his hearing rehabilitation.

His wallet.

Receipts he didn’t even remember getting.

And among them, a stiff piece of paper.

Haesu took out the invitation and opened the envelope.

Doyoon had given it to him, but it felt as heavy as if Seha had handed it to him personally.

Since receiving it, it felt like something sharp was brushing against his heart.

Not stabbing, but scraping slowly, as if to torment him.

“Groom, Kwon Seha…”

And next to it was another name.

A name he had never heard before.

Unfamiliar.

Not his.

Not Choi Haesu.

There had never been an invitation with Kwon Seha and Choi Haesu written side by side.

Only now did that reality truly sink in.

Kwon Seha marrying someone else.

He had imagined it before, which made it hurt even more.

Back then, it had felt vague.

He had thought he would disappear without hesitation if that happened.

Now he understood a little why Doyoon and Director Yoon had tried to stop him.

The sense of loss they had already seen—Haesu was only now realizing it himself.