CHAPTER 64
“You’re a real asshole. You know that?”
Chung-Hee’s words cut through the strained silence of his apartment.
Jun stood near the window, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Kija sat rigid on the couch, his expression dark as a brewing storm. Chung-Hee stood in the center of the room, his jaw clenched, a glass of whiskey forgotten in his hand.
They had barely spoken since returning from the gallery.
Kija turned sharply toward him. “How dare you insult me like that?”
“After everything I told you, after I trusted you with my deepest secrets, you of all people should know better than to flirt with Noeul.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kija shot back, anger flashing in his eyes. “All I did was look at him. Are we not even allowed that anymore without triggering your irrational jealousy?”
“You think I’m stupid?” Chung-Hee growled. “I saw the way you looked at him.”
“Yes, I looked at him,” Kija snapped. “He’s beautiful. That doesn’t make him mine.”
He paused and looked at his friend. “So that’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You still think he belongs to you.”
“He does not belong to Duri either.”
“No one said he does.”
“He wants him.”
“And?”
Chung-Hee’s grip tightened around his glass. Kija rose from the couch.
“Noeul is an adult. He can sleep with Duri, marry him, leave Korea with him, or never see any of us again. You don’t get a vote.”
“Enough,” Jun said.
His voice wasn’t loud, but both men stopped. Jun stepped away from the window.
“None of this matters anymore. Noeul has moved on.”
Chung-Hee looked at him. Jun hesitated before saying the rest.
“He looks happier. Healthier.”
Chung-Hee’s shoulders sagged slightly. The fire in his eyes dimmed. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. For a moment, the anger drained out of him, replaced by something raw and exposed.
Jun watched him carefully. Then he remembered Noeul standing in the gallery, asking for the most basic things a grown man should never have needed permission to retrieve.
His identification. His passport. His own money.
“The passport,” Jun said. “His ID. The money. Where are they?”
Chung-Hee’s expression hardened again. “Why?”
“Because they belong to him.” Silence. “Give them to me. I’ll take them downstairs myself.”
“No.”
Jun stared at him. “What?”
“If I give them back, he’ll leave Korea.”
Kija ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling to contain his anger. “So what?”
Chung-Hee turned toward him.
“If he wants to leave, let him,” Kija continued. “He’s an adult. He gets to decide what to do with his life.”
“He’s planning to leave. Do you understand that?” Chung-Hee shouted. “If he gets away now, we’ll never be together again.”
Jun stared at his friend for several seconds. “Do you ever stop thinking about yourself?”
Chung-Hee went still.
Jun’s face flushed with anger. “Everything is always about you. Your pain. Your grief. Your insecurities. Your fear of losing him. Have you thought even once about what he wants?”
“I love him.”
“That isn’t enough!”
Jun’s voice echoed through the apartment. Kija stepped between them, hands raised slightly, but Jun was done holding back.
“You keep saying you love him as if that excuses everything. It doesn’t. You hurt him. You controlled him. And now, after everything that happened, you’re still withholding his passport and his money because you’re afraid he’ll leave you?”
“He’ll disappear!”
“Maybe he will!”
Chung-Hee flinched.
Jun lowered his voice. “And if he does, you let him. If you ever want to apologize to Noeul, then apologize because you owe him one. Not because you think an apology will make him come back. Not because you think being sorry earns you another chance.” Jun stepped closer.
“You don’t get to decide whether you’re part of his life anymore. He does.”
Chung-Hee looked away.
“Stop.”
“No. You need to hear it.”
Chung-Hee’s fists clenched.
“If Noeul never comes back to you, that will be because of what you did. Not Duri. Not Kija. Not his brother. Not Haneul.”
Chung-Hee’s face twisted.
“Don’t bring my brother into this.”
“He has been in this from the beginning!” Jun shouted. “That’s the problem.”
Jun extended his hand. “Give me his things.”
Chung-Hee stared at it. “No.”
“Chung-Hee.”
“They’re in the safe.”
“Then open it.”
“You won’t get them.”
Jun slowly lowered his hand. For several seconds, neither man moved. Then Chung-Hee grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table, walked into his bedroom, and slammed the door behind him.
The lock clicked.
Jun stared after him.
Kija sank back onto the couch. “What the hell happened to him?”
Jun didn’t answer immediately. He looked toward the closed bedroom door, then around the apartment.
“We can’t keep ignoring this,” he said finally. “Something has to be done.”
Kija looked at him. “Meaning?”
Jun swallowed hard.
He hesitated. An idea had begun forming in his mind at the gallery, one he had immediately dismissed because it was dangerous.
Now he reconsidered.
Chung-Hee had built everything around Haneul. His hatred. His guilt. His love for Noeul. Even his justification for hurting him.
And there was one person left who had spent years trapped inside that same grief.
Ms. Lee.
Jun reached for his coat. “Will you help me, Kija?”
“With what?”
Jun didn’t answer. He pressed the elevator button, and Kija followed him inside.
As the doors closed behind them, Jun pulled out his phone and stared at the screen.
His thumb hovered over her name.
Maybe he should leave it alone. Maybe it wasn’t his place.
But he had left things alone for too long already. He had watched his best friend sink deeper into grief, hatred, and obsession. He had watched Noeul pay the price.
Enough.
Jun pressed the call button.
A warm, melodious voice answered almost immediately. “My dear Jun, what a lovely surprise. I’m doing well. How are you? What prompted this unexpected call?”
Jun closed his eyes briefly. “Good evening, Ms. Lee.”
He was still shaken by everything that had happened, but the need to end this cycle had become stronger than his hesitation.
“Would you accompany me to an art exhibition? I have a VIP invitation to the debut exhibition of a promising young artist. Many established artists and business leaders will be there, including Kija, Sora, and me. Are you free next Friday?”
“Of course, dear. You know how much I enjoy discovering emerging artists and new artistic techniques, not to mention investing in them at the very start of their careers,” she said with a proud laugh.
Despite himself, Jun smiled. “I know. You have an incredible eye for art investments. I’ve made a fortune just by following your lead.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Jun laughed quietly. “Then it’s settled. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“And Chung-Hee?”
Jun’s smile disappeared. “He has another engagement with an important investor. He won’t be joining us.”
The lie came more easily than it should have. They exchanged goodbyes, and Jun ended the call.
For several seconds, he stared at the dark screen. Kija watched him.
“You’re bringing his mother?”
“Yes.”
“Does Noeul know?”
“No.”
Kija’s expression hardened. “Jun.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Jun looked at him.
“If I tell Noeul, he may refuse to come.”
“He has the right to refuse.”
“He does,” he said quietly.
“Then what exactly are you trying to accomplish?”
Jun took a long breath. “I want her to see him.”
Kija frowned.
“Not the version of Noeul she built in her grief. Not Gong’s twin.
Not the person she blamed for Haneul’s death.
Him.” Jun looked back toward the building towering behind them.
“And I want Chung-Hee to finally understand that Haneul cannot keep being used as justification for what they’ve done to that man. ”
Kija remained silent.
“I don’t know if it will work,” Jun admitted. “Maybe I’m making a mistake.”
“Maybe you are.”
“I know.”
Kija sighed and pulled his car keys from his pocket. “I’ll change my return flight to the U.S. and invite a few friends to the exhibition.”
He started toward his car, then stopped.
“But if this turns against him, Jun, we stop it. Immediately.”
Jun nodded. “Agreed.”
Kija walked away. Jun remained on the sidewalk for a moment, staring up at the illuminated windows of Chung-Hee’s penthouse.
Somewhere above him, his best friend was drinking alone, still clinging to a man who had finally begun learning how to let go.
Jun hailed a taxi and made his way home.
But even after he closed his eyes that night, one thought refused to leave him.
He had set something in motion.
Now he could only hope Noeul wouldn’t be the one forced to pay for it.