The man’s brow furrowed at my answer. Clearly, he didn’t like it.
“Even looking at you pisses me off…”
“Cut the pathetic act before I kill you.”
“…Um—”
“Talk.”
“I… still kind of like cats.”
Because if I don’t approach them, they leave me alone. Afraid he might mistake me for being completely animal-phobic, I added that, but it didn’t help much. The man remained expressionless, arms crossed, as if weighed down by endless unpleasant thoughts. Well, being full of energy every day must be its own burden.
As for me, I had always lived quietly, unnoticed. Even with my poor social skills, I had been content with my peaceful, uneventful life. That’s why, even as all this happened to me firsthand, I still couldn’t believe it. My days had been so ordinary, so invisible, that sometimes people didn’t even realize I was nearby.
There had to be a massive misunderstanding here. With that woman, and with this man too.
Suddenly, he grabbed me by the collar and yanked me up like I was a paper doll.
“I told you to stop acting.”
“Ghh—ah, hhhk—”
Suspended by my collar, I could barely breathe, my skin pinched painfully. Maybe because the pain I’d endured so far was so unfamiliar, my eyes automatically filled with tears.
“It hurts, it really hurts…”
“……”
“It’s not an act, I swear… hhic.”
His face slackened strangely, and he let me go. Finally freed from the pain, I rubbed my burning neck. The skin felt raw where the collar of my clothes had pressed in. My face hurt, my stomach hurt, my whole body ached, and my throat burned. I cupped my neck and silently wept, tears dripping one after another.
Was I always this much of a crybaby?
“Enough.”
He said it like he expected me to stop crying on command. But I couldn’t. Instead, I covered my mouth with both hands to muffle the sound, though the tears wouldn’t stop. I was hurt, humiliated, overwhelmed.
“How the hell did you manage to pull all that crap with this much backbone?”
I heard him mutter it, though I didn’t understand what he meant. Nothing could be less fitting for me than the word “backbone.” Maybe I’d misheard again, too out of it to make sense.
Still sobbing, I flinched when he suddenly grabbed my face and forced me to look up.
“Stop crying before I bury you.”
His voice wasn’t kind, but his thumb brushed away the tears at my eyes. Burn or bury—he kept saying things like that. Maybe it was just a habit of speech. He didn’t seem sociable, but with looks that far outside the range of normal people, maybe society made excuses for him.
‘But… how long is he going to keep holding my face like this?’
Even after my tears had dried, he didn’t let go. If anything, he kneaded my face like dough. His expression was so serious as he touched me that I didn’t dare tell him to stop. Maybe this was some weird hobby of his. I wanted to respect his tastes if I could—but unfortunately, my face was covered in bruises from his fists. And of course, his fingers found those exact spots.
“Ugh.”
At my groan, he froze and withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened. Taking the chance, I touched the sore spots myself, though all I learned was that it hurt even worse.
Meanwhile, he stared at his own hand like something was wrong with it. Had he gotten my spit on it while touching my face? Honestly, that wasn’t my fault, so I pretended not to notice.
Timidly, I said,
“…Excuse me.”
He lifted his gaze at once, wordlessly telling me to continue.
“…Can I go home now?”
“No.”
“Oh…”
“How could I trust what you’d do if I let you go?”
“But my utility bills… my rent…”
More urgent than that was my tuition. I had scraped together the admission fee, but the only way to pay tuition was through nonstop part-time work. The deadline was coming fast, and I had to deposit it as soon as my paycheck came in the day after tomorrow. These were the busiest days of my life.
He asked,
“Why are you even worrying about that?”
“Well, because…”
Because I’m an orphan.
The words rose to my throat but I swallowed them back. I hadn’t lived that long, but I’d learned early not to reveal the parts of myself that set me apart.
“Don’t get any stupid ideas. Stay put.”
With that, he stood up. Seeming about to leave, I scrambled to my feet too. He stopped, turned back, and glared fiercely.
“Didn’t understand me? Want to be thrown back into the basement?”
“…Then… am I living here?”
“I told you—I’m not letting you go.”
And with that, he turned sharply and left. The door slammed. I instinctively covered my mouth to smother a laugh. I was too moved; I almost burst out giggling.
‘Free from rent for now!’
I’d been on the verge of eviction in a week thanks to rent I couldn’t pay. I thought I’d have to crash at the department lounge, but see? There’s always a way.
The bruises still ached, but it was like muscle pain after hard labor—bearable. And just having a place to stay made everything else irrelevant.
Grinning, I crawled back into bed and slipped under the blanket. It was so soft and warm, unlike anything I’d ever had, I rubbed it with my palms in wonder. No static shocks, just a luxurious quilt wrapping me up until I drifted into sleep. As long as I paid my tuition with my paycheck the day after tomorrow, nothing else mattered.
Then a pounding noise jolted me awake. Still half-asleep, I blinked as the sound grew louder and the door slammed open.
The man was back. Thinking I should greet my landlord, I pushed myself up—but before I could speak, he seized me by the collar.
“You don’t think this pathetic resistance is worth something, do you?”
I had no idea what he meant. My mind was sluggish on the best of days, and sleep only made it worse. Still, he kept firing questions at me.
“You think acting like this will make me blink?”
His grip wasn’t as harsh as before; he wasn’t jerking me around. It didn’t hurt. In fact, his arm was positioned just right for my heavy head to keep leaning against it.
“You think you’ll go without even a sip of water from now—”
Thud.
Unable to fight it anymore, I dropped my head against his arm. Maybe sensing something was off, he pressed his hand to my forehead and muttered low,
“…Crazy.”
* * *
“The fever should break soon, but if he doesn’t get proper nutrition from now on, it could become dangerous. He was born with a weak constitution, so for the time being he needs rest—”
A stranger’s voice. I rolled my eyes toward the sound, but my vision was too blurry. Then someone stepped closer and covered my eyes with his hand.
Frustrated, I tried to pull it away with all my strength, but it didn’t budge. Fear spiked and I thrashed—
“Sleep.”
That low, heavy voice.
Recognizing it calmed me, and I let go. Sleep dragged me back under.
When I next woke, I saw the IV tube connected to my arm. Not a hospital room, though.
‘Isn’t it illegal to get IV fluids at home?’
Nothing invited scorn more than being marked as someone raised without parents. If I so much as broke a minor law, I’d be met with, “Knew it. Of course.” That was why I let a lot of things slide, but never anything against the law. The moment I got caught up in that, I’d have no one to protect me.
Back to the point—
‘There are house calls for that sort of thing, right? It should be fine.’
Still, I resolved never to admit I’d gotten an IV at home.
As I lay quietly, the door opened. It was him. He didn’t seem to expect me awake, because he froze for a beat when our eyes met. Then he came closer, carrying a tray.
He set it on the nightstand.
“Sit up.”
Feeling awkward staying prone before my landlord, I pushed myself up with the bed’s support. But my head spun, and before I could even sit all the way, I pitched forward. Luckily, he caught me just in time, sparing my nose.
“Tch.”
Clicking his tongue, he propped me upright. A headache throbbed behind my eyes from being in bed too long. Holding my temples, I muttered,
“Excuse me… could I have some water…”
Wordlessly, he handed me a cup. My hands trembled so much reaching for it that he sighed and shoved my hand aside.
“Open your mouth.”
“I can drink it myse—”
“Before I shove it down your throat.”
That catchphrase of his… it was serious. No wonder he had no friends.
I meekly opened my mouth. He tilted the cup, letting me sip slowly. I wanted to gulp it down, but if too much went in at once, he pulled the cup away. So it took several minutes to finish just one glass. When I had, he set the cup on the nightstand.
Sipping like that hardly quenched my thirst, and the water was lukewarm too.
Still, he was the landlord.
“…Thank you.”
“……”
No reply, but I hoped my gratitude got across.
Then, in a weighty tone, he said,
“I could understand if ignoring my warning and hanging around Kang Ji-a was because you’d lost your fear.”
Kang Ji-a? Kang Ji-a…. At first it sounded like he’d said “dog.” The name was familiar, but I didn’t know anyone by it. What did he mean?
“Baek Eun-Seong, are you insane?”
Baek Eun-Seong. That name too—I’d heard it somewhere before. I knew no one by that name, so where?
“Why don’t you brag again like last time that Cha Gil-Do’s nothing?”
Cha Gil-Do.
This time, something clicked.
Cha Gil-Do. Kang Ji-a. Baek Eun-Seong. These names had one thing in common—they were all characters from the drama Please, Obsession.
Kang Ji-a was the heroine, Cha Gil-Do the male lead. And Baek Eun-Seong was—
“…Dead.”
“…What?”
“Baek Eun-Seong is dead.”
Killed by the male lead, Cha Gil-Do.