Into The Thrill

If this ominous feeling—this intuition that had never been wrong precisely because it was so ominous—turned out to be true, then Haewon was prepared to kill Woojin.
Reaching a conclusion he didn't want to admit, Haewon picked up his phone and dialed somewhere.

"It's me, ma'am."
—"Haewonie? What’s going on? You just left without staying for the afterparty."
Seo Ok-hwa’s voice came through the receiver. As expected of a former world-renowned soprano, her tone was high, but the sound of her voice was not unpleasant. It was clear and refreshing.

"You haven’t gone back to the States yet, right? Where are you?"
—"I’m at the Hannam-dong house. I had a few things to sort through before leaving."
"Then please make something delicious. I’m coming over."

—"Is something wrong?"
"I just wanted to say goodbye before you left."
—"Alright, then. I’ll have lunch ready."
Haewon hung up and rose from where he had been sitting like his body had taken root.

That day Woojin had lied about being on duty, he actually had a dinner appointment with Chairman Kim Jung-geun. Even after his fiancée’s death, Woojin had maintained his connection with them.
Normally, when a fiancée dies—not by accident, but suicide—just the sight of the bereaved would trigger painful memories of the dead. Naturally, they would avoid each other. Keeping distance was a form of courtesy. But Woojin didn’t do that.
He must not have known what it felt like to be emotionally disturbed just by remembering the deceased.

There was nothing left for him to desire from HanKyung Group, and yet he remained close with the owner’s family. And now, Kim Jung-geun had been sentenced to seven years in prison. The group’s strategic planning division had returned to Woojin.
How could such a thing happen—someone’s fiancée dies, and fortune just happens to follow?
At the very least, Hyun Woojin wasn’t the kind of man to sit idly by, praying for luck or coincidence to work in his favor. Denying the existence of coincidence was the fastest way to approach the truth. Haewon decided from now on, he would never associate “coincidence” with Woojin again.

He arrived at Kim Jung-geun’s residence, which he’d visited once before, and pressed the doorbell. Guided in by the same female manager as before, he stepped inside. Though Kim Jung-geun, Seo Ok-hwa, and their daughter Kim Soyoung were no longer there, the house still looked well-maintained by professional hands.
"Come on in."
Seo Ok-hwa, who had been organizing something in the living room, looked up at Haewon.

"What are you doing?"
"Just sorting some things… Would you like some tea? Bring us some tea, please."
The housekeeper bowed her head at her words and turned away. Haewon sat down on the sofa. Other than Seo Ok-hwa and the live-in staff, the house seemed completely empty. Being alone together in the spacious living room, the air around them felt cold and hollow.

"Did you go visit the chairman?"
"I did, yesterday. He looks better now that he’s not working. He’s going crazy in there from frustration. But what can you do? If only he had listened to Woojin earlier, none of this would have happened. That man was so arrogant, the heavens must be punishing him."
"What did Woojin say?"

"He told him not to pick a fight with the prosecution. But do you think that man would listen? No one in this house ever listens to others."
"So you mean it ended up like this because he ignored your advice?"
"That’s not the only reason, but it played a big part. He lived his whole life thinking everything would go his way—do you think a man like that would suddenly start taking a prosecutor’s advice? He barely listens to me, even."

Haewon didn’t know the details, but it was clear Kim Jung-geun’s arrest wasn’t unrelated to Woojin. Woojin probably calculated long in advance that Kim wouldn’t heed his warnings.
He had been that thorough with Haewon—someone who had nothing to offer but his own body—so surely he had been even more thorough with Kim Jung-geun and HanKyung Group. Kim Soyoung had likely been part of his plans too.
Haewon was beginning to accept that his ominous premonition might be true. He wanted to claw at his own chest.
Seo Ok-hwa’s movements grew rough, like she was about to explode with frustration over Chairman Kim’s stubbornness. She took it out on the clothes she was holding, flinging them into a box. Then, as if realizing what she’d done, she carefully lifted them back out and gently smoothed them with reverent hands. It was a woman’s garment.

"Are you packing clothes to take with you?"
It seemed she was getting ready for her trip to the States. With a gloom that had settled over her expression, Seo Ok-hwa sipped the tea the housekeeper had brought.
She carefully folded the clothes and placed them back in the box, then spread out a blouse and stared at it with tender, longing eyes for a long while.

"They’re my daughter’s clothes. I wanted to sort them out."
"Soyoung’s?"
"No… my Hayeong…"

"……"
"My baby, the prettiest and kindest in the world. She didn’t take after me or her father, which is probably why she was so good… What did such a sweet, lovely girl do wrong…? Sometimes I think maybe heaven took her because I loved her too much. I loved her so much, I made the heavens jealous."
"…You’re only now sorting through them?"

It had been years since her death, yet only now was she organizing her belongings. Even after centuries, the death of a beloved daughter could still cut like it happened yesterday. There were griefs that time could never bury, and tears that wouldn’t dry no matter how much one cried. The death of a child was like that for a parent.
"No, I think Woojin finally cleaned out the penthouse. He left it untouched for so long… I guess he needed time too. That was the home he and Hayeong prepared as their newlywed house. Even after she passed, he never sold it. Hayeong was so happy decorating it. I don’t know what was so great about leaving her mom’s arms and getting married… That foolish girl. I’ve never seen her happier than she was then."

Seo Ok-hwa recalled going furniture shopping and picking out dishes with her daughter. Though long ago, the memories were still vivid. Her tastes clashed with Hayeong’s, who liked simpler things, and they had fought often while preparing the marital home.

"You heard about their engagement, right? Woojin and Hayeong?"
"…Yes. I heard from him."
Haewon barely managed a whisper, his pupils dilated and pale.

That penthouse… was meant to be their marital home.
He’d long known that the bedding that felt like it was meant to conceive a child and the gauzy curtains weren’t his taste.
Ah. Haewon tightly closed his eyes.

Seo Ok-hwa was pressing her face into a beige blouse that no longer held Hayeong’s scent. As if trying to hold back the sob that rose every time she thought of her daughter, she finally placed the now scentless blouse into the box.
She looked over at Haewon, who sat silently, his eyes fixed on nothing, lost in thought.
"Haewon-ah?"

"…Yes?"
Haewon blinked back to the present, his mind having wandered somewhere far away.
"What are you thinking so hard about? Did something happen?"

"…No. Nothing happened."
"Then why did you suddenly want to meet? You skipped the afterparty, just vanished, and now you show up all polite."
"I thought it might be hard to see you again once you leave for the States. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Were you always such a polite kid? My husband’s Supreme Court sentencing is coming up—I’ll be back for that."
As if she found his words endearing, Seo Ok-hwa smiled without reservation. Haewon, still sitting blankly, asked:
"…About him. Woojin-sunbae."

"Woojin? Why?"
Having recently retrieved the belongings of Hayeong she had left at the penthouse, Seo Ok-hwa asked while calmly organizing the items.
"I feel like it’s presumptuous of me to bring this up…"

"What is it you want to say? Just speak freely."
"You… know that Soyoung likes him, don’t you?"
"……"

Seo Ok-hwa let out a faint sigh. Haewon’s fingertips trembled. He silently begged—Please, don’t let that be true. Please let that, at least, not be true.
"Woojin and our family… I guess we’re bound together in a way that can’t be unraveled."
Her voice held a weary sense of resignation, as if she had given up on something.

"Maybe that’s why it took him so long to clear out the penthouse. He probably felt guilty toward Hayeong… Or maybe, he was trying to prevent something like this from happening in the first place."
"What do you mean… by that?"
Haewon found himself shaking his head slowly, unconsciously, as if to reject what he feared she meant.

"My Soyoung is clearly thinking of marrying him. She’s turned down all the blind dates and setups—she says she hates them. I bet it’s because of Woojin. But the thing is, I don’t think Woojin feels the same way. How did both my daughters end up like this? It should be the man who loves more, but it's always them."
She complained, like it was going to kill her from sheer frustration.
"When everything happened with her father, Woojin told Soyoung to leave Korea for a while. Said it would be better for her to be abroad, and she could keep studying anyway. I guess he meant they could take some distance and think things through."

"So… you knew they were seeing each other?"
At Haewon’s question, Seo Ok-hwa didn’t look the least bit surprised.
"I could tell. I sensed it."

"……"
"I watched Woojin and Hayeong together for so long… just a look in Soyoung’s eyes told me everything."
"Are you okay with it?"

"At first, it was absolutely out of the question. Because of Hayeong, it could never happen. I told myself I’d pretend not to know until the end. But after everything happened with my husband, it became clear—we can’t make it without Woojin. Not me, not Soyoung, not even my husband… When she finishes school and my husband’s sentence gets reduced and he comes home, I’ll marry them. That’s how it should be. For now, since they’re keeping quiet, I’m pretending not to know and waiting."
So many unexpected things had happened in life, in so many directions, that to Seo Ok-hwa—after all she’d been through—even marrying her dead daughter’s fiancé to her younger daughter didn’t seem like much anymore. In the end, that’s just how things turned out, she said with a voice of detachment.
After being disgraced in front of the entire nation and having her husband sent to prison, it seemed no other shock could really faze her anymore.

"I see… Sunbae was worried, you know. I don’t think he knows you’re aware of everything."
The archetype of desire Woojin had been building was nearly complete. Haewon nodded, saying it was a good match, that they looked good together.
"So Woojin really does care about you like a true junior. That kid’s so stubborn—he’s never been close with anyone in his private life. That’s always worried us."

"He has plenty of people he’s close to."
"I guess people mellow out with age. That’s lucky for Soyoung. Hayeong was too obedient to Woojin. Watching them together used to drive me crazy. Always doing what he said, saying yes, oppa this, oppa that. ‘Whatever you want, oppa. However you like, oppa. That’s fine, I love it.’ Ugh. But Soyoung, that girl’s got a temper like mine."
Seo Ok-hwa spoke like she was chatting with an old friend who finally understood her. Haewon smiled faintly now and then, nodded at the right times, and echoed her comments with quiet agreement.

After lunch, Haewon gave his final farewell.
"You should visit New York sometime. The view of Central Park from our apartment at night is stunning. Even during the day it’s nice. I’ll show you around."
"I want to rest too. If I get the chance, I’ll call you."

"…Everyone dies, but not everyone is born with a gift like yours. Keep playing the violin. I asked the concertmaster, and he said you’re turning down offers. Why do you think God gives out talent? It’s to share it."
"Am I that good? You said I was just decent. That Henry Chang was better."
"They’re different kinds of genius. Henry has his charm, and Haewon, you have yours. Didn’t you hear what Professor Park said? Why is classical music so unpopular? Isn’t it because people like you neglect their talent?"

"I’ll get going. You be safe too, ajumma. Stay healthy."
"Alright, take care of yourself, Haewon. I’ll call if I come back to Korea."
Haewon nodded. He got into the car and pressed on the gas. As he turned the steering wheel, the image of Seo Ok-hwa waving goodbye in the rearview mirror disappeared.

When he came back to his senses, he was already in the underground parking garage of the apartment he shared with Woojin. Haewon stepped out of the car, slung his violin over his shoulder, and entered the private elevator to the penthouse. He pressed the top floor.
Stepping out of the elevator, he stood before the door of the penthouse Woojin had prepared as a marital home with his late ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) fiancée. He entered the same door lock code as his own officetel and stepped inside. The evening sunlight streamed through the fluttering curtains, casting light on a Demian Ryu painting like a spotlight.
The Filipino housekeeper approached to take his violin case, but Haewon shook his head and refused, then walked into the bedroom.

He threw the violin down carelessly and collapsed onto the bed. His body was so drained it had been a struggle just to drag himself this far. Now that he was finally lying down, a long, heavy sigh escaped.
Haewon didn’t move. It was like weights had been tied to every limb; even his fingertips couldn’t move at will. His body lay limp, and only his eyelids blinked.
He lay there for a long time before finally reaching for his phone. Lying on his side, he stared blankly at the man’s face displayed on the screen.

It was just a picture from the day they’d gone to lunch—but his expression was so serious, as if it were something profound. Haewon stared at it for a while, then played back a recorded voice.
The melody of Haewon’s favorite Guarneri, followed by a low, steady male voice reading aloud the lines Haewon had written for him. He spoke stiffly, unadorned, without embellishment—a voice drained of color.
He hated reading exactly what Haewon wrote, but he did it anyway. That voice, disinterested and flat, told Haewon it loved him.

"I love you, Haewon."
"Say it again."
"I love you, Moon Haewon."

"How much?"
"There’s no line like that in the script. Just read what’s written."
"How much?"

"Isn’t that enough?"
"How much do you love me?"
"Ha… how much? If I could quantify it, it’d be easier for me too."

"Then use stars."
"Stars?"
"One hundred stars means you love someone very, very much."

"That’s not bad. No need to wonder what ‘a lot’ means anymore."
"How many stars do you love me?"
"One hundred."

"I love you too. I love you a hundred stars’ worth, hyung."
That was the end. Haewon played the recording over and over again. In Woojin’s voice, preserved in that recording, there was a tenderness that scraped at the most fragile parts of a person, coaxing tears from deep within.
I love you one hundred stars’ worth.

Haewon remembered the day he undressed in front of him. How he’d sobbed in pleasure, body trembling with desire as he clung to him, overwhelmed by joy. There had been many times like that since—so many he’d lost count.
Each time, Haewon had given Woojin everything. His flesh, his bones, his soul, his heart. He gave it all, and now there was nothing left. Nothing at all. He was hollow inside. Woojin had taken everything, and there was nothing left behind.
"Ah…"

Haewon clutched at his chest and curled up. The pain spread—fierce and jagged—starting from his heart and radiating through his whole body.
He didn’t know where this urge to die was coming from, or how it had taken root. He didn’t understand why loving someone could make him want to die. Tears hot as acid poured down, blinding him.
If it were possible, he wanted to shatter the bedroom window and leap out. To hurl this useless, hollow body outside and destroy it. He had given everything to Woojin, and what now stirred violently within him was a yearning for destruction. A violent urge to kill himself.

Because he loved him—Haewon loved Woojin so much he wanted to die. The only thing in his mind was death. He bit his lip. Bit down hard enough to draw blood. Blood mixed with the hot tears that streamed down.
The tear-stained blood fell onto the pillow Woojin had chosen for his bridal suite with his late fiancée, like the fluids of a beheaded animal.
The more he remembered how blissful it had been to wake up beside him, the more he wanted to die. The more he thought of Woojin’s face, the more the urge to die intensified. His mind was flooded with thoughts of death.

Now he understood why people chose to leave the world in the prime of their lives.
Because the wound of being unloved by Hyun Woojin was unbearable. Because the loss of knowing he could never truly love anyone forever was something Haewon could not survive.