Hyukjoon:don’t be mad, but … I can’t stop thinking about what happened last time
Hyukjoon:I know you said it can’t ever happen again and that we were drunk …
Hyukjoon:I’m in love with you, Jia. can we at least meet up to talk about it?
Hyukjoon:where are you right now? I can come to you
Hyukjoon:I just want to talk. that’s all … I swear … not trying to do anything else
At least Jia had had the decency to leave him on read. Dahye felt another wave of sympathy for Seoyeon. Despite the bullshit Hyukjoon had spewed to Dahye about their arranged marriage, it was obvious to her that Seoyeon truly cared for him. She loved Hyukjoon the way Dahye once had—like a person drowning, with the shore in plain view.
Dahye knew nothing about Seoyeon, but she deserved better. Taking a screenshot of Hyukjoon’s messages to Jia, Dahye sent them to Seoyeon.
Hyukjoon:[SCREENSHOT]
Hyukjoon:I want to come clean. I’m sorry. I’m a bastard, Seoyeon. you know this isn’t the only time, either. the truth is that I don’t love you. I never have
Hyukjoon:I thought I could go through with marrying you, but I can’t …
Hyukjoon:I hope you’re able to move on with your life
Hyukjoon:please don’t try to contact me again
She hit send and turned off the phone, watching as the screen went black. Early morning light filtered into the room, illuminating the mess. Stained clothing, congealed puddles of blood, pieces of skin and flesh scattered across the mattress.
Hyukjoon’s severed member lay on the floor. Dahye picked it up. It was nearly weightless. She could hardly believe that this pitiful thing was the source of Hyukjoon’s power and what had determined his worth in the world. It had been so easy taking it from him.
She was exhausted and, at the same time, wide awake. Eunhye was muttering to herself, watching Hyukjoon’s stiffening body. Sitting next to him, she looked so small.
Some part of Dahye had believed that destroying Hyukjoon would resolve everything. That it would bring her peace. But all she felt now was the anger coming to a boil. Hyukjoon was a monster, sure, and deserved everything that had happened to him. But he was only a symptom of the problem, one of many monsters that needed vanquishing.
She looked at Eunhye and saw her sister as a seventeen-year-old girl in the blue light of an aquarium, her face shimmering. Poor Eunhye, who thought there was no way to escape except for drowning.
Dahye stretched out a hand, and Eunhye took it. Dahye hardly felt the cold anymore. They would kill Jihoon together. She would finally put her sister’s spirit to rest.
Junyoung pressed his ear flat against the front door of Dahye’s building. It was quiet inside. The previous night, she had returned home with a man. He was a pretty, pompous-looking son of a bitch who had grinned and walked inside with his chest puffed up like a rooster.
At first, Junyoung had tried to convince himself that the man was just a friend visiting for the evening. But when several hours passed, and the man didn’t emerge, Junyoung had returned home, dejected and alone. It felt as though his heart was being torn to shreds.
Junyoung walked down the steps and sat on the curb. His temples throbbed painfully. He had barely slept the previous night, and all day at work, he had been tormented by the image of Dahye, her naked body entwined with this stranger’s. It was so obvious to Junyoung that this man was bad news that he couldn’t believe Dahye’s naïveté. When he found out who the guy was, Junyoung was going to fuck him up.
Already he had waited several hours, but there was no sign of Dahye or the man anywhere. Junyoung buried his face in his hands. Maybe they were too busy fucking each other’s brains out to do anything else. He imagined Dahye, dehydrated, the skin around her mouth shriveled and cracked.
He had just resolved to leave when the door to the building swung open. Startled, he scuttled behind a trash can as she appeared, dragging a suitcase down the steps. Junyoung poked his head out. Dahye was dressed entirely in black, a mask covering the lower half of her face. Only her eyes were visible. She was alone. The suitcase’s wheels clattered on the cement as she strode briskly down the street, towing it behind her.
Again?
It was late. Where the hell was she going this time? Careful to keep a healthy distance between them, Junyoung stole after her, his footsteps light. They walked until they reached a subway station. Dahye hopped on the first train that arrived, traveled for five stops, and then transferred to another station.
Junyoung had a bad feeling in his chest. He thought they were somewhere near Mapo, though he wasn’t entirely certain. Dahye seemed to be singularly focused on making it to her destination, wherever that was. She didn’t look back at him. Not even once. They walked by the river, toward the bridge, and Junyoung stifled a groan. His feet hurt. Cars whizzed past them. Junyoung gasped as a bus came close, nearly clipping her, but Dahye yanked on the suitcase and continued on.
In the center of the bridge, Dahye stopped abruptly, leaning over the railing. Junyoung’s heart began to pound.
This bridge, among many others in Seoul, was famous for suicide jumpers. Years prior, a man had leaped to his death to try and draw attention to a men’s rights group he’d founded.Junyoung had been young when it happened, but he remembered clearly the headlines that had dominated the news cycle for weeks afterward. And the images—dozens of rescue teams, diving under the water again and again, trying to recover the man’s body.
“Don’t jump,” Junyoung started to shout, but the wind and the cars whipped his words back into his face. He watched, horrified, as she climbed onto the balustrade with the suitcase. Her feet kept slipping. She swayed, her balance uneven, the weight of the bag unsteadying her. For one terrible second, it looked like she would fall. A scream tore out of Junyoung’s throat. Dahye caught herself, and then, with a great heave, hurled the suitcase off the bridge.
Dahye climbed down, hurrying away, as Junyoung leaned over the edge to watch the suitcase fall. Moonlight shimmered across the rippling waves. The suitcase hit the water with a splash and began to bob away gently. Junyoung stared at it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what had just occurred. No sane person hauled a suitcase across Seoul just to dump it over a bridge.