Passion: Suite

I never imagined I’d end up lying side by side in a sickbed with this guy again in my life.
Taeui stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.
He quietly turned his gaze to the side. Sure enough, the man lying next to him with his eyes closed was Kim Jeong-pil. Bandages on his forehead—that was Taeui’s handiwork—bandages on his shoulder, and no doubt more wrapped beneath the sheets covering his body.
Taeui checked the clock. But he couldn’t tell if the eight o’clock it pointed to was eight in the morning or eight at night. Other clocks around the facility showed am or pm but the infirmary wall clock did not.
“This place is great in every way except that…with no windows, you can’t tell day from night unless you walk up to ground level.”
The building’s only aboveground floor was the first; every other level lay underground. Though lighting and air handling were so good you barely noticed you were below, sometimes it still felt stifling. That was why some, like Tae-woo, would always head up to ground level whenever they went for a smoke, even though there was a smoking room. Taeui himself used to take walks up there.
…but I guess no walks for at least a few days now.
Taeui sighed, mindful of his aching body and especially the burning pain in his shoulder blade, even though painkillers were doing their rounds.
I wonder how Hogan’s doing.
He looked around the infirmary but saw no sign of Hogan. I think Hogan said he wouldn’t kill me, so he wouldn’t be in a coffin…yet I still don’t see him.
“What time is it anyway… And where did Luther go?”
He muttered to himself. Looking again at Kim Jeong-pil, Taeui saw no sign of him stirring. Well, the fellow must be on painkillers too—no wonder he can’t get up.
Taeui lay back and stared at the ceiling.
…
Ceilings all look the same, I guess.
He remembered staring blankly at a similar white, featureless ceiling when he lay in the military hospital long ago. Back then, a breeze came through an open window and sapling branches brushed outside the sill. Yet somehow it felt like stepping back in time. Nothing had changed—not even having Kim Jeong-pil lying beside him.
Just like then, the future stretched out endlessly, and life would go on.
…but one thing is different now…
Taeui muttered, realizing something he never imagined back then—someone who would insert themselves into his life and stay with him forever. If someone had told him then “this person will become part of your life and stay by your side,” he would have cried and begged them to stop him, or run to the ends of the earth to escape such a fate.
And yet here he was, smiling wryly and thinking “It’s okay. Not so bad.” He realized how much he’d changed.
At least the promise he made on ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) that hospital bed—to find someone who could share his future—had come true. In the truest sense.
“But why didn’t that idiot stay by my side when I was lying here sick?”
Even as he thought it was pointless, he grumbled anyway, half-expecting that idiot to jump out from somewhere.
“I washed my hands.”
Right on cue, Ilrey pushed open the half-ajar door and stepped in. Taeui snapped shut his mouth like a clam. He always thought Ilrey’s ears were too good.
Ilrey entered the infirmary and, towel in hand, began drying his white hands. Taeui watched them absently. They were beautiful hands—except for the cut in his palm where a blade had slipped.
Noting Taeui’s gaze, Ilrey spread his hands lightly, as if he’d caught on to both the stare and its reason.
“They’ll heal soon. No scar, just clean.”
“How can a cut that deep not leave a scar?”
“I’ve had worse and no scars. My recovery’s exceptional.”

Come to think of it, this man who’d walked through the Fields of Sorrow had almost no scars. It seemed unfair in some way. Taeui examined Ilrey carefully, worried he might have hurt himself again while Taeui was unconscious. But Ilrey looked fine from head to toe—though flecks of blood dotted his uniform, it didn’t look like his.
He’d even taken his gloves off, Taeui realized, then frowned.
“But why wash now?”
“I’ve been dragged around all day, had no chance.”
Taeui murmured “all day…” and checked the clock again.
“Is it morning or evening?”
“Evening. The same day you got stabbed.”
Ah, so not many hours have passed, he thought. He’d assumed, having passed out so deeply, that more time had gone by.
Taeui scratched his cheek with his uninjured hand, then reached out as Ilrey went to the fridge for beer.
“How’s Hogan?”
“He’s fine. Same state as just before you passed out.”
“I could’ve sworn I heard awful sounds and screams just before…”
Taeui smacked his lips, murmuring. Those sounds alone should’ve meant he couldn’t have survived, yet it seemed no one touched him afterward. But more pressing was…
“Why are you drinking alone?”
Taeui glowered as Ilrey popped open the can and began to drink. Ilrey looked down coolly and curled one corner of his mouth.
“You got stabbed and lay dying and still ask for beer?”
“Beer isn’t liquor!”
“It is!”
Those words were cut off by Luther barging in.
“Under law, any beverage over one percent alcohol is classified as liquor. And beer averages five percent.”
Taeui had to swallow his retort—“Beer fanatic, you don’t know that?!”—knowing he was at Luther’s mercy while in the infirmary. You don’t want to piss off the person who holds absolute power here.
Luther glared at Ilrey, who sipped his beer.
“Where do you think you are, drinking beer?”
“There was one in the fridge.”
“That was mine! I keep it for emergencies!”
Luther flung open the fridge. Taeui looked puzzled—he thought Luther rarely drank alcohol, that just a few sips would redden his face.
“You hardly drink, Luther?”
“I do sometimes! When I see things I can’t bear at work, I drink! Do you think I can handle this sober?”
His voice heavy with sympathy, Luther described bodies with entrails spilling out, skulls split open, pus flowing like rivers—and how he saw such horrors every month or two.
“Today’s one of those days! I needed it today! I left for a moment and two more patients bolted in!”
“Tangled-up…?”
Taeui wondered if Luther spoke of Hogan.
“Anyway, where is he?”
Taeui scanned the infirmary again. No Hogan. Maybe Luther didn’t recognize him among the mangled? But still no sign.
“I put him in another room with its own air handling. Too risky if his wounds get infected.”
Luther replied sullenly. So at least he’s alive. Taeui sighed and lay his head back on the pillow, then glanced at Ilrey.
“You didn’t kill him, huh.”
Taeui admitted he’d hoped otherwise. Ilrey simply raised an eyebrow.
“Well, when I left you he was surrounded by so many people—your uncle, McKinn, Talvan—they all rushed in. With a trial pending, no sense making extra trouble.”
“Don’t talk so well! You stood there grinning while holding onto Jung Instructor’s sleeve, whispering ‘After court, when no one’s around, we’ll finish this properly. The human body has organs you can lose and still survive.’ What was that about?”
Luther, organizing papers at his desk, didn’t look up as he broke in.
Taeui felt he understood what had followed.
Indeed, if someone said that to him he’d want the safety of prison. He thought this when Ilrey shrugged and said casually:
“Well, he’ll go to prison too. After trial, after we talk, then discharge.”
“Why threaten him?”
“I only wanted to give him fair warning. I should be considered kind.”
Taeui thought, inwardly, no kindness would ever return to Ilrey in this world.
He sighed and murmured:
“Hogan won’t sleep for a while.”
It must feel like living in a horror movie.
“He’ll have no rest until the verdict. He’ll be hauled around, filing mountains of paperwork.”
Again it was Luther’s voice. Taeui turned from him to Ilrey, who eyed his beer sadly yet made no move to share.
“In here are cameras everywhere. His ramblings are recorded. He’ll only pay compensation and spend a few days in confinement. There’s mitigating factors…”
Ilrey’s calm tone left Taeui staring. Right—the branch’s cameras.
“The trial will be summary and quick. At most a month. Plus Hogan’s past is a fountain of dirt…”
Ilrey trailed off, tilting his head.
Taeui watched him, then suddenly asked:
“So you’re fine?”
“I said he’ll pay compensation and do a few days in confinement.”
“That’s all?”
“You seem unhappy with that result.”
Ilrey’s gaze flickered away. Taeui quickly shook his head, “No, of course not.” Ilrey looked at him with thin eyes but didn’t press further.
Yet…in a way this was a blessing.
“…Good thing I got stabbed.”
Taeui sighed softly, grateful that at least this knife wound had brought something good.
I see. That way Ilrey won’t be so troubled. No matter what outcome this internal trial brings in a foreign capital…