Chapter 89: A Week Without an Answer

“…Han-geon.

You… don’t tell me…”

Jinwoo could no longer even pretend to hide his agitation.

Han-geon, who had bitten his parched lips until they bled, finally forced himself to speak.

“Hyung, this… please keep it to yourself.

You know how famous he is… I’m begging you.”

“Well, of course, but—are you out of your mind…!”

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Staring at Han-geon with a look that screamed this is driving me insane, he pounded his chest with his fist before grabbing his glass and downing it in gulps.

He poured himself two more shots in a row and drank them alone, then began questioning him again in a tone of sheer disbelief.

“Does he know…?

No—does that guy know you’re here?”

“No.

You’re the only one who knows I’m here, hyung.

I came here in the first place to avoid him…”

Han-geon kept his eyes on the table as he added a brief explanation.

That they had been friends for a long time.

That because of that, he’d ended up helping out as his manager.

He had kept the fact that he and Eun-gyeol were friends an absolute secret until now, and as Jinwoo listened, his eyes just kept widening, as if they might pop out of his head.

“Ha… this is seriously driving me crazy…”

When Han-geon finished explaining, Jinwoo once again flooded his glass with soju.

“Does he know you’re pregnant?

He didn’t say something fucked up like, ‘I can’t take responsibility, deal with it yourself,’ did he?

If he did, I swear…”

Grinding his teeth, Jinwoo looked ready to grab the guy and do something irreversible.

Han-geon let out a bitter smile and opened his mouth to calm him down.

“Please calm down, hyung.

He doesn’t know I’m pregnant.

And anyway, with him, it’s already—”

It’s all over.

That was what he meant to say.

But suddenly, the corner of his mouth, which had been faintly smiling, began to tremble.

As if that were a signal, a hot lump surged up and clogged his throat.

His throat, choked and tight, burned and ached.

The words he had been about to say wouldn’t come out.

And in that moment, Han-geon finally felt it—his severance from Eun-gyeol.

It’s over.

Really over.

So this was all there was to our ending, Eun-gyeol.

With a heavy weight dropping into his chest, heat rushed up behind his eyelids.

He had believed that he had no lingering attachment left at all, that even if things were painful at times, he would still be able to shake off the remaining afterimages with composure.

Hadn’t he thought the same thing earlier at the beach?

He had endured a pain fierce enough to burn away everything he held close, so surely there wasn’t even ash left now.

But Han-geon had to admit that even that had been an overly naïve thought.

A breakup wasn’t something like that.

Even if Eun-gyeol had only ever seen him as a friend, a manager, a s*x partner—and so, in truth, the word ending applied only to Han-geon himself… to him, it had been a lifelong unrequited love.

Cha Eun-gyeol had been the reason for his life, the trail he followed, the object of every confession he was capable of making.

It hadn’t been as simple as he’d first assumed.

Only now did Han-geon realize that removing Cha Eun-gyeol from his life meant removing himself as well.

It was no different from tearing his own living flesh apart with his own hands.

The space he had emptied out hurt and felt hollow.

The foundation of his heart, left gaping and bare, had grown unbearably fragile.

Fragile enough that a trivial conversation shared over a meal could make his chest ache.

Fragile enough that he couldn’t bring himself to say the words it’s all over, and instead almost broke down in tears.

Han-geon bowed his head deeply, clenching his teeth as he held back his tears.

He squeezed his fists tight, struggling to steady his heart.

He had already shown enough shameful weakness—he didn’t want to burden Jinwoo any further.

“It’s okay, Han-geon…

If you want to cry, then cry.”

Jinwoo had come over at some point and sat down beside him, his hand landing lightly on Han-geon’s thigh.

His rough but gentle voice brushed against Han-geon’s heart.

In the end, tears streamed down from his eyes, which he had been squeezing shut so tightly they trembled.

“Snff…” He gulped in a breath and hurriedly searched for some tissues.

Before he knew it, a tissue was being held out in front of him.

After wiping away his tears and cleaning his face, he forced a small smile at Jinwoo.

“…I’m okay.

Hyung, I’m sorry—for showing you this side of me…”

“You idiot, what are you apologizing for…

That’s something that bastard should be saying, not you.”

For a while, the two of them just stared at the table in silence.

Jinwoo reached out and downed another shot of soju, while Han-geon fidgeted with an innocent glass of water.

Only after a long stretch of time did Jinwoo settle back into his seat and speak slowly.

“Han-geon…

What are you going to do now?”

“…..”

“Obviously… you’re going to get rid of it, right?”

It was a question he was fully entitled to ask.

It was a problem Jinwoo himself had once faced head-on as well.

Yes.

I will.

That was the answer he should have given.

Both Jinwoo and Han-geon knew that was the correct one.

And yet, Han-geon couldn’t say anything at all.

Just like earlier in front of the hospital, when he had stood there unable to move in either direction, he remained silent, lips sealed tight, unable to give an answer.

The feeling from before returned—that sense of drifting alone on a vast, open sea.

Jinwoo continued in a heavy voice.

“Yeah, it won’t be easy.

You were never that cold-hearted to begin with.

But… Han-geon.”

“…Yes, hyung.”

“Think about your age.

Think about your future.

In the end, the only person you can truly trust in this world is yourself.

I’m saying this because everyone knows you’re too damn kind.

Don’t feel guilty toward anyone else.

Just do what your heart tells you to do.”

“…..Yes.”

With reddened eyes, Han-geon nodded obediently.

He was genuinely grateful for Jinwoo’s advice.

Think only about yourself.

Do nothing but what your heart tells you to do…

For far too long, his own heart had been pushed to the very back of the line.

Even now, Han-geon found it hard to grasp what it was that he truly wanted.

But even if it was difficult, he had to try.

He had to find out what he really wanted.

The purpose of leaving Eun-gyeol behind lay in reclaiming the priorities of a life that had been stolen from him, and in restoring his heart, which had completely fallen apart.

***

“Thanks for the meal, hyung!”

“Oh yeah?

The tofu stew was good this time, right?

You cleaned your bowl completely.”

“Yes.

It was amazing.”

As Han-geon stacked his empty rice bowls and gave a thumbs-up, Jinwoo grinned with satisfaction.

After breakfast, the two men began moving briskly.

While Jinwoo closed the lids on the side dishes and got the containers ready to put back into the fridge, the quicker Han-geon had already carried all the used dishes to the sink and picked up a sponge.

Jinwoo followed right behind him and snatched the sponge away.

“Go sit down somewhere.

Or go for a walk or something.”

“You already made breakfast, hyung…

I should do the dishes.”

“It’s fine.

Go on.”

Jinwoo seized the opening and turned on the water, already starting to wash up.

You really could tell he was a former bodyguard—his movements were fast.

“Hurry up, brush your teeth, and go for a walk.

I’ll finish the dishes and follow you out.”

“What about the shop, hyung?”

“We’ll open it lazily after the walk.

I’m the owner—who’s going to complain?”

Unable to leave Jinwoo washing dishes behind by himself, Han-geon ended up quietly pulling out the vacuum cleaner.

Seeing that, Jinwoo started nagging him again, but his voice was soon drowned out by the whirr of the machine.

After diligently cleaning the house, Han-geon finished brushing his teeth and stepped outside first.

Jinwoo waved him on, saying he needed to take a call and would come out slowly.

“Nice weather.”

He muttered it to himself for no particular reason.

Tying his sneakers tightly, Han-geon left the house.

The sea sparkled just as brightly as the dazzling sunlight.

Jinwoo’s place was close enough to the beach that you could reach the shore in just a few minutes on foot.

Han-geon liked this place, where you could live your days gazing at the beautiful ocean every single day.

His body and mind, which had been wound tight for so long, seemed to loosen on their own.

Living with Jinwoo was nice, too.

If he were alone, he’d probably be plagued by stray thoughts and easily sink into depression, but with Jinwoo around, there was no room for that.

Still, he’d been thinking of slowly looking for his own place—he couldn’t freeload forever.

When Jinwoo caught on to the plan, he stubbornly stopped him and insisted otherwise, and in the end, Han-geon stayed on a while longer.

As he trudged along, the sound of the waves grew closer.

Seeing the massive swells undulating before his eyes, he plopped down right there.

Han-geon liked sitting here like this.

The incoming waves slowly swept away his stray thoughts.

Splash, shhh.

Listening to the quiet, beautiful harmony of nature, hours would pass in the blink of an eye.

It had already been a week since he came here.

During the days he spent here, Han-geon thought of only two beings.

One was, helplessly, Cha Eun-gyeol.

The other was the baby, gradually putting down firmer roots inside his belly.

At first, he’d felt self-loathing and disgust at how often Eun-gyeol came to mind.

But not anymore.

He accepted that it was only natural and decided to leave it be.

He had resolved to let every last feeling he had for him flow away, no matter how many years it took—so someday, those feelings too would be swept away with the waves.

But the baby—

Over the week he’d spent here, the pregnancy must have progressed just as much.

At seven weeks, what would the baby look like now?

How much would it have grown in a single week?

He knew they were pointless thoughts, yet whenever he came to his senses, he found himself thinking about them again and again.

That week hadn’t passed in nothing but quiet stillness.

His heart had fluctuated from moment to moment.

Once, in a surge of pain, he had even impulsively boarded a bus heading for the hospital.

But Han-geon hadn’t been able to bring himself to reach the obstetrics and gynecology clinic, and had turned back halfway.