“Ah… no.”
How long had he been watching?
It was true that Yi Kyung’s eyes had grown hot as he recalled the paintings he had seen in the studio, but he hadn’t cried. How had “Seo Yi Kyung” felt while painting them? Besides, there was no longer anyone who could finish those paintings now. The thought had merely brought a brief wave of sorrow over him.
“I heard you went to the painting studio. Did you paint anything?”
Yi Kyung’s lips parted soundlessly. Butler Do’s face flashed through his mind. What had he told Seung Jae? Whatever he had said, Yi Kyung hoped he wouldn’t suffer for it.
“Yes.”
It was one small mercy amid all this misery. Despite the violent pounding of his heart, his voice remained steady as the lie slipped from his chest.
Seung Jae’s gaze glided down to the hand Yi Kyung had wrapped around the railing. His slender white fingers looked soft. Seung Jae seized the wrist above them, where a blue bruise had formed.
“Ugh.”
Yi Kyung’s lips slowly parted, then closed again. Seung Jae had clearly realized that he was lying.
Seung Jae pulled Yi Kyung toward him and wrapped his free arm around his waist. The cookies in Yi Kyung’s pocket were crushed to crumbs. His broad palm slid over Yi Kyung’s cardigan.
“I’d like to see it.”
Yi Kyung’s waist trembled faintly. There was no way Seung Jae could have missed the tremor.
“I can’t wait to see what kind of painting you’ll produce.”
Seung Jae tightened his grip around Yi Kyung’s bruised wrist. The harder he squeezed, the farther Yi Kyung’s pale hand bent backward, sending a bolt of agony through it. His fingers quivered. Seung Jae met his eyes with a gaze as cold as ice.
“With a hand like this.”
Water rushed from the faucet.
Yi Kyung narrowed his eyes as he held his throbbing right wrist beneath the stream. Even the slightest movement of his fingers brought searing pain.
He had forgotten. He had completely forgotten what kind of man Han Seung Jae was, simply because Seung Jae had treated him with a little kindness. Seung Jae had always observed a certain degree of courtesy and propriety around “Seo Yi Kyung.” But the only reason he had been considerate and behaved like a gentleman was most likely because “Seo Yi Kyung” had never done anything to displease him.
Yi Kyung looked down at his hand, which had turned blue. He should consider himself lucky that it wasn’t broken. Then he raised his eyes to the mirror. His bloodless face was twisted into a grimace. At this rate, it seemed his horrific future wouldn’t change at all. If anything, the situation was already getting worse.
A knock sounded at the door. Yi Kyung turned away from the sink. Water dripped from his fingertips. When he opened the door with his left hand, Butler Do stood outside, breathing hard as though he had come running.
“Director Han told me to check on you.”
Butler Do carefully examined Yi Kyung before lowering his gaze. His expression darkened when he saw Yi Kyung’s blue wrist.
“Are you all right?”
Butler Do pulled out a towel and cautiously extended both hands toward the water running down Yi Kyung’s fingers. He gently wrapped the towel around Yi Kyung’s slender hand. Even so, Yi Kyung’s eyes tightened faintly with pain. Butler Do’s hands froze.
“I’ll do it.”
Yi Kyung took hold of the end of the towel, ran it over the back of his hand, and lightly dabbed the water from his knuckles. In the meantime, Butler Do left the room and returned carrying a first-aid kit. Passing the bedside table where he had set down a tray, he approached the bed.
“Did the two of you fight?”
Butler Do asked the question cautiously. A short while ago, he had been heading upstairs with a tray holding juice and a sandwich. Seung Jae had said he wouldn’t be having dinner, but Butler Do had been worried about Yi Kyung, who had not left his room.
Just as Butler Do reached the second-floor landing, Seung Jae approached him.
“He hasn’t eaten anything all afternoon. I’ll just give him this and come right back out.”
Butler Do showed him the tray he was carrying. With an impassive face utterly devoid of emotion, Seung Jae said, “Go in.”
“……”
When Yi Kyung, seated on the edge of the bed, gave no answer, Butler Do opened the first-aid kit. Watching him take out a bandage, Yi Kyung spoke with a sigh.
“There’s no point in telling my father.”
Butler Do flinched as though Yi Kyung had read his mind, then began carefully winding the bandage around his wrist.
It wasn’t as if Yi Kyung hadn’t known. Seung Jae hated lies more than anything. If Yi Kyung was going to lie, he should at least have made sure he wouldn’t be caught. But the encounter had been so sudden that he hadn’t thought carefully enough.
The door clicked open. Butler Do looked back and bowed. Only then did Seung Jae come fully into Yi Kyung’s view.
Seung Jae’s gaze settled on one spot. Butler Do had apparently been in the middle of wrapping Yi Kyung’s wrist, and the loose end of the bandage hung down, still untied. Butler Do hurriedly straightened and reached out with both hands.
“I’m almost finished.”
As if promising to finish quickly and leave, he volunteered an explanation no one had asked for. After securing the bandage with medical tape, Butler Do snatched up the first-aid kit in his haste. Because the lid was still open, the case tipped and its contents spilled across the floor. Bandages, scissors, antiseptic, ointment, and medical tape scattered everywhere.
“I-I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up immediately…”
Yi Kyung rose from the edge of the bed. He bent beside the flustered Butler Do and reached out with his left hand to catch the roll of medical tape spinning across the marble floor.
A pair of long legs stopped in front of him. Yi Kyung slowly straightened.
“If you’re finished, leave.”
Seung Jae kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, but his words were directed at Butler Do.
The room filled with a bitter chill. Seung Jae’s mere presence changed the atmosphere in an instant.
Holding the first-aid kit in both hands, Butler Do hesitated briefly, but there was nothing else he could do. He glanced once at Yi Kyung, who stood there with a pale face, then turned around. He moved as though walking across thin ice.
“Please call me if you need anything.”
It sounded almost as though he were telling Yi Kyung to call if he needed help. The door clicked shut, leaving the two of them alone in the room.
“Your hand?”
The voice that shattered the silence was so low it sent a chill crawling over Yi Kyung’s nape. He clenched the roll of medical tape in his fist.
“I can move my fingers.”
Yi Kyung stubbornly held himself upright. But he couldn’t conceal the trembling of his fingertips. Seung Jae looked down at his bandaged wrist and spoke calmly.
“I’m looking forward to seeing what kind of painting you’ll show me.”
The door clicked shut behind Butler Do. He stood outside for a moment, his face tense with fear that something might happen. Still, the closed door did not open again.
Butler Do forced his reluctant feet forward, his eyes clouded with worry. Director Han’s capacity for violence was deeply troubling. Today it had been Yi Kyung’s wrist, but what if it grew worse?
Perhaps he had worried too much, because an image flickered before Butler Do’s eyes: Yi Kyung coughing up blood after being beaten by Han Seung Jae. He could not guarantee that such a thing would never happen.
This was no time to reassure himself that everything would be fine. He had devoted himself wholeheartedly to Young Master Yi Kyung from the moment they first met—sometimes like a father, and sometimes like a friend.
Young Master Yi Kyung never let even the smallest hurt show. He would simply shut himself away in the painting studio for days on end, painting and swallowing everything alone.
If Butler Do left matters as they were, something far worse might happen. His expression hardened with resolve as he descended the stairs.
It was the following day.
The chopsticks slipped from Yi Kyung’s hand with a clatter. Butler Do immediately bent down and picked them up from the floor, then instructed the housekeeper to bring a new pair.
Yi Kyung, however, picked up his spoon and brought a mouthful of rice to his lips. His small lips moved as he chewed.
Seung Jae never spoke to him while he was eating. Yi Kyung ate extremely slowly, as though deliberately preventing Seung Jae from addressing him.
Worried that Seung Jae might send Butler Do away, Yi Kyung quickly spoke to him.
“More soup, please.”
Butler Do stood beside Yi Kyung, refilled his empty bowl, and replaced his plates. Several dishes containing small portions of food were set before him.
Secretary Park approached Seung Jae, who was gripping his water glass. Seung Jae raised an eyebrow.
After glancing once at Yi Kyung, he rose and answered the call. As the sound of Seung Jae’s voice receded, the pressure constricting Yi Kyung’s chest gradually eased.
Yi Kyung dropped his spoon and grasped his right wrist with his left hand. His fingers were twitching uncontrollably. Butler Do hurriedly pushed up the sleeve of Yi Kyung’s cardigan. The bandaged wrist was even more swollen than it had been the day before.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, Yi Kyung pulled his sleeve back down and hid his right hand beneath the ceramic-topped dining table. His eyes briefly met those of the impeccably suited Seung Jae. Seung Jae turned his head and continued walking. Only then did Yi Kyung lean back against his chair.
Butler Do brought an ice pack, laid Yi Kyung’s trembling arm on the table, and pressed the cold compress to it.
“It’s this swollen, and you’ve been enduring it all this time?”
Beads of sweat had formed on Yi Kyung’s forehead. He had run a fever throughout the night and hadn’t slept at all. He had merely pulled the covers over his head and waited for morning to come.
“This won’t do. We need to take you to the hospital first.”
Butler Do’s face had turned ashen. As if trying to ease his concern, Yi Kyung moved his fingers for him.
“It isn’t that serious.”
But the wave of pain involuntarily twisted his features.