In Please, Obsession, painting was an important key that connected the male lead Cha Gil-Do and the female lead Kang Ji-a, which meant it was a keyword I absolutely shouldn’t go near.
Kang Ji-a’s artworks were tools, used to trap a rival company. Later, after Cha Gil-Do fell in love with her, he even bought back the paintings that had gone to auction, but that had not been the original purpose.
Knowing that, Cha Gil-Do’s offer of a studio now felt… strange.
“I don’t need it.”
I wasn’t the female lead, so there was no reason for him to set up a studio for me.
In truth, even if I hadn’t refused, the first person Cha Gil-Do would have ever given a studio to was not me, but Kang Ji-a.
Cha Gil-Do didn’t take his eyes off me. He slowly tapped the back of my hand, then suddenly gripped it tight enough to make my fingertips tingle, and asked.
“Looking, then?”
“…What?”
“Watching cherry blossoms—I thought you liked it. Did I make another mistake?”
The gaze fixed on me seemed almost desperate. Without meaning to, I nodded and answered.
“That was fine….”
At my reply, a picture-like smile spread across Cha Gil-Do’s face, silent but radiant. Someone so far removed from laughter choosing to smile—suddenly, it felt like a fragrance of blossoms spread around him.
‘I want to draw this….’
I had never once thought of wanting to paint a portrait, but right then I wanted to paint him. How could I capture not just his features but this entire atmosphere? My hand nearly reached for his clear, softened lines when—
“Ah…!”
Our eyes met, and startled, I turned my head away. My heart pounded with nervous force.
‘Good thing I didn’t touch him.’
Because once I fixated on something, I kept probing until I was satisfied. I had nearly reached out to touch Cha Gil-Do’s face. Just as I sighed in relief, I heard a small laugh slip through his teeth.
“Baek Eun-Seong.”
He called my name, and in an instant, the hand he held was against his cheek.
“You can touch me as much as you want, whenever you want.”
“……”
Cha Gil-Do closed his eyes. How many artists in the world could resist such a perfect subject placed before them? At least, I couldn’t.
My fingertips passed over Cha Gil-Do’s clean, straight forehead, brushed his thick brows, traced the shadowed line of his lashes, and slid down the proud bridge of his nose. When they grazed his clear, firm lips, his teeth showed between them, white and even.
Then, through those teeth, a tongue redder than his lips flicked out and licked my fingers. Burned, I snatched my hand away. At some point, his blue eyes had opened and locked onto mine. My heart plummeted, heat flooding my face.
It was like falling into an unfamiliar paradise, not knowing what to do….
* * *
Cha Gil-Do stared fixedly at Baek Eun-Seong, who flushed and floundered, unable to meet his gaze.
From the reports he had received, Baek Eun-Seong was nothing short of “trash.”
Once he set a target, he destroyed everything around them. At first with violence and intimidation. Later with drugs, abduction, and torture, driving his targets to ruin. When a person was driven that far down, there were not many choices left.
Four suicides.
And the reasons for becoming a target were trivial. Because eyes met. Because of a touch. Because of gossip behind his back. Because someone rejected him.
All kinds of reasons.
Even their first meeting, Baek Eun-Seong had been doing something vile—trying to force Kang Ji-a. The memory of that scene remained burned into Cha Gil-Do’s mind. If she hadn’t slapped him and run away, Cha Gil-Do might have smashed Baek Eun-Seong’s head against the wall on the spot.
Back then, his only thought was to kill him. Listing Baek Eun-Seong’s crimes was enough to make anyone scowl.
Baek Eun-Seong was a villain who should never have existed in this world. Even Cha Gil-Do, who often walked the ambiguous line between good and evil, had been sure of that. Dealing with him for his goals felt like an act of charity.
‘Reformation, nice word.’
A villain could not become a saint. But if one realized his wrongs and repented, he might become human.
But only those with some innate goodness could seize that chance. Trash like Baek Eun-Seong never could.
Unless he was born again.
His neck, so slender it seemed to fit in a hand. Cha Gil-Do, who had never cared for others’ looks, thought even then that it was a waste on him.
But that was all. Once dead, he’d rot away. Better to sweep away anything that might hinder future plans quickly.
‘Just once….’
He had expected Baek Eun-Seong to resist, to scream and rage—but instead he had begged, then fainted. When he caught him before he hit the floor, he realized how light he was.
‘Director, I’ll handle it.’
One of his men had stepped forward to take Baek Eun-Seong away. If Cha Gil-Do had handed him over, he could have erased him from the world without dirtying his hands.
But just as that hand was about to take Baek Eun-Seong, Cha Gil-Do stopped him, irritated by some unknown displeasure.
‘No, I’ll do it myself later.’
‘…Later, sir?’
‘Yes, later.’
And so Cha Gil-Do took Baek Eun-Seong himself. He chained him in the basement and stared for a long time.
Never before had he overturned a decision once made, and the confusion was real. That was why he asked Baek Eun-Seong directly. To tell him what to do.
‘Trash—should I burn it or bury it.’
If he had thrashed and cursed, Cha Gil-Do would have gladly finished him.
But Baek Eun-Seong’s answer was absurd.
‘…S-s-sort… separate garbage, recycle….’
‘I don’t recycle trash.’
‘Hhhk… hhhhkkk.’
‘What are you doing.’
‘Hhhhuuhhh… hhhhhuuuhhh.’
The sobbing should have annoyed him, but it didn’t. When Baek Eun-Seong wept like he was suffocating, drained of strength, and collapsed backward, Cha Gil-Do found himself catching and holding him. His body was cold. Naturally so, left in a basement without warmth. But it still bothered him.
As soon as he felt warmth, Baek Eun-Seong clung closer. Cha Gil-Do decided to keep him alive, at least for now.
He could dispose of him anytime, but at that moment, he didn’t want to.
‘What is Baek Eun-Seong doing.’
‘He hasn’t left his room all day.’
He thought it was just petty defiance. Refusing to eat or drink, shutting himself away, trying to starve in protest. If he wanted to die like that, Cha Gil-Do resolved never to give him even a sip of water again.
If he hadn’t collapsed with fever.
When he opened his eyes and asked for water, then said thank you when given it—Cha Gil-Do wondered who was more insane.
‘Why not put up a front again, like last time—say Cha Gil-Do means nothing to you?’
‘I died….’
The weak voice said it, and though Cha Gil-Do heard clearly, he couldn’t understand.
‘…What?’
‘Baek Eun-Seong died.’
He spoke of his own death as if it were someone else’s news.
‘Dying is better.’
‘…Better?’
‘Of course….’
Looking at him as he said it, his eyes seemed to ask, Aren’t you the same?
No…
Cha Gil-Do refused to accept it. Even though he had wanted to get rid of him first, something heavy dropped inside his chest. Maybe it was that calm, resigned look.
‘Why is that better?’
He was angry, restless. He didn’t know why.
‘Because it was decided. And anyway, soon forgotten.’
He said it with a faint smile, as if it meant nothing.
‘So….’
‘I don’t forget. Not even if I die, once I’ve seen it.’
Before Baek Eun-Seong could speak further, Cha Gil-Do denied it. He wanted to. At least he wanted to show that he was not like that. He didn’t know why.
Hearing that, Baek Eun-Seong still looked hollow and empty.
‘That’s… a painful thing to say.’
‘You….’
His chest clenched too tight to speak, so Cha Gil-Do turned and left.
But he shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have left Baek Eun-Seong alone. When he heard the sound of something shattering and ran back, he found Baek Eun-Seong scraping his own hand with the broken pieces. His mind went blank.
Perhaps it was then.
Cha Gil-Do realized something was wrong.
When Baek Eun-Seong raved about seeing ghosts, he called in a psychiatrist. After the consultation, the doctor gave an absurd diagnosis.
‘Dissociative Identity Disorder. In other words, multiple personality disorder, where two or more distinct identities exist. But in this case, the trauma was so severe that the primary identity hasn’t integrated—it has vanished.’
‘So?’
‘Fortunately, it doesn’t look like another personality has formed. But there’s no point in treatment aimed at preventing one.’
‘You mean he has to stay like this?’
‘Maintaining this state is the only treatment.’
‘…….’
‘A non-primary personality is unstable, always at risk of self-destruction. Unlike normal forgetfulness, it comes with memory gaps and dysfunction. So the priority is to keep the patient stable, free of anxiety.’