CHAPTER 41 #2
Then Chung-Hee’s gaze returned to the shoulder Kija had touched. His jaw tightened. He shoved Noeul backward.
Noeul hit the floor hard, the impact forcing the air from his lungs. Before he could recover, Chung-Hee caught both wrists and forced them behind him. Pain shot through Noeul’s healing hands.
“Hyung!”
Chung-Hee pulled him upright. “Every sound you make tonight will have a consequence.”
His voice was disturbingly controlled.
Noeul stared at him. He wanted to argue. To remind him of everything they had said. I belong to myself. You know what you’re doing. But Chung-Hee’s eyes stopped the words before they came.
Chung-Hee grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him toward the corner of the office. Noeul stumbled after him, struggling to keep his balance. His wrists burned, his scalp stung, and his cheek still felt hot from hitting the floor.
When Chung-Hee forced his back against the wall, Noeul finally looked at him properly. There were shadows beneath his eyes. He looked exhausted, as though he truly had spent the weekend fighting something inside himself. That frightened Noeul more.
“You knew,” he whispered.
Chung-Hee frowned.
“You knew I didn’t do anything wrong.” His breathing grew uneven. “You just said it.”
Chung-Hee’s expression shifted.
“Then why are you doing this?”
No answer.
Tears filled Noeul’s eyes, not only from pain but from disappointment. Chung-Hee saw it. His face hardened immediately, as though anger could protect him from whatever that expression made him feel.
“Why are you crying?”
Noeul tried to turn away.
Chung-Hee caught his jaw. “We haven’t even started.”
Noeul’s eyes widened. A chill moved through him.
“What do you want from me?”
Chung-Hee stared at him. “Did you enjoy talking to Kija?”
Noeul closed his eyes. “Hyung…”
“Answer.”
“Yes.”
Chung-Hee’s grip tightened.
Noeul opened his eyes again. “Yes, I enjoyed talking to him. He’s an artist I admire.”
“Did you enjoy his attention?”
“I don’t know!”
The answer came out louder than Noeul intended. Chung-Hee went still. Noeul immediately remembered the warning. His lips parted.
“I’m sorry.”
The apology made something inside him twist with disgust. Why was he apologizing? For raising his voice? For answering honestly? For making Chung-Hee jealous?
No.
He swallowed. “I’m not sorry.”
Chung-Hee stared at him.
Noeul’s heart pounded, but he forced himself to continue. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
The words seemed to echo through the office. For a moment, neither moved.
Then Chung-Hee laughed softly. “You really believe that now.”
Noeul’s face tightened. “Yes.”
Chung-Hee’s expression darkened. “Perhaps that’s the problem.”
He spun Noeul around, forcing him toward the wall. Noeul caught himself before his face struck it. Chung-Hee stood behind him, too close.
“I suppose I wasn’t strict enough last time.”
Noeul’s breathing quickened. “Don’t.”
“Perhaps you didn’t learn what I thought you learned.”
“Hyung, please.”
Chung-Hee’s gaze settled on Noeul’s shoulder, the exact place where Kija’s hand had rested. His fingers brushed the fabric there. Noeul went rigid.
“You remember where he touched you?”
Noeul closed his eyes. “Yes.”
“So do I.”
Before Noeul could react, Chung-Hee bit down through the fabric. Pain tore through his shoulder. A cry escaped. Chung-Hee immediately pulled back.
Noeul pressed his forehead against the wall, breathing hard.
“I told you to stay quiet.”
“Please…” Noeul whispered. “I didn’t do anything. I just met one of my favorite artists.”
Chung-Hee turned him around and struck him across the face. Noeul’s head snapped sideways. For several seconds, shock emptied his mind.
“Excuses are not permitted.”
Noeul laughed weakly through the tears gathering in his eyes. “You know they aren’t excuses.”
Chung-Hee froze.
Noeul looked back at him. “You know.” His voice trembled. “You know I didn’t betray you.”
Something painful flashed across Chung-Hee’s face, then disappeared.
He leaned closer. “You have no idea how much your voice irritates me tonight.”
Noeul swallowed.
Chung-Hee’s hand closed around his arm. Another painful bite.
Noeul tried desperately to remain silent. Failed. The cry escaped before he could stop it.
Chung-Hee struck him again.
Noeul caught himself against the wall. His cheek burned, his wrists throbbed, and his breath came too quickly. Fear rose inside him. So did anger.
But beneath both was something that hurt worse.
Understanding.
Chung-Hee knew he had done nothing wrong. He knew it. And he was hurting him anyway.
Noeul slowly lifted his eyes. For the first time, the thought was clearer than the guilt.
This wasn’t punishment.
It was control.
Across from him, Chung-Hee seemed to be fighting the same realization.
He had spent two days convincing himself Noeul was innocent, yet innocence had not made the jealousy disappear.
The truth was uglier. It didn’t matter whether Noeul had done anything wrong.
Chung-Hee simply couldn’t bear the idea of someone else wanting him.
Chung-Hee’s voice changed, turning intimate in a way that made Noeul’s stomach drop.
“Get on your knees.”
Noeul understood what was coming before Chung-Hee acted.
“Hyung, no!”
Chung-Hee grabbed him by the hair and forced him onto his knees. He unzipped his trousers and forced himself into Noeul’s mouth.
Noeul struggled, but Chung-Hee held him firmly in place. Panic tightened his chest, and his thoughts scattered, searching desperately for somewhere else to go. Cruelly, memories came.
Before Haneul’s death, Noeul had wanted this man. He had imagined being held by him, kissing him, touching him, making him happy. Back then, the thought had been warm, private, almost innocent.
How had something he once wanted so desperately become this?
Chung-Hee ordered him to continue.
Noeul closed his eyes. Every command became something to survive. His body was there, trapped beneath Chung-Hee’s control, but his mind searched for a place untouched by him.
Ji-Woo talking excitedly about his university portfolio. Mr. Choi preparing coffee in the kitchen. Duri laughing at him.
Anything.
Anywhere but here.
“Yes, baby, that’s it!”
Noeul flinched.
Once, he had imagined that word whispered with affection. Now it made his stomach churn.
“Good. Just like that.”
Tears streaked silently down Noeul’s face. He dug his nails into his palms, concentrating on the pain, trying to hold on to something that still belonged to him. And beneath the panic, another thought surfaced.
Kija spoke to me.
That was all.
He had admired his work. Talked about art. Agreed to lessons.
He hadn’t betrayed anyone.
He hadn’t done anything wrong.
I did nothing wrong.
The thought frightened him almost as much as it relieved him.
When the ordeal finally ended, Chung-Hee released him. Noeul remained on his knees. For several seconds, he couldn’t move. The office was silent except for his ragged breathing. He stared at the floor, waiting for his body to belong to him again.
Something inside him felt different. Not broken. He had felt broken too many times for the word to mean anything anymore. This was emptier, as though something inside him had simply switched off.
“Noeul…”
He recoiled at the sound of Chung-Hee’s voice. Noeul slowly raised his eyes. There was almost no guilt in them.
Only fear.
And disgust.
He pushed himself upright, his legs trembling beneath him. “Don’t touch me.”
Chung-Hee took a step toward him.
Noeul immediately stepped back. “I said don’t touch me.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He ran.
He bolted from the office, his legs carrying him faster than he thought possible, muscles burning with adrenaline. He didn’t know whether Chung-Hee followed him. He didn’t look. His body had reduced the entire world to one command.
Go.
By the time he reached the garage, his lungs burned. His hands shook so badly that he dropped his keys.
“Fuck.”
He stared at them on the concrete. For several seconds, he couldn’t understand what he was looking at.
Keys. His keys. His car.
Home.
He crouched to retrieve them, nearly losing his balance.
Kija spoke to me.
That was all.
Noeul squeezed his eyes shut.
I did nothing wrong.
Eventually, he managed to unlock the car and sank into the driver’s seat. He should call someone. Ji-Woo. Duri. Mr. Choi. Anyone. His phone was right there.
He couldn’t touch it.
For several minutes, he remained behind the wheel without starting the engine. He named the things in front of him silently. Keys. Steering wheel. Concrete pillar. Exit sign. His breathing gradually slowed, and the shaking in his hands eased.
Only then did he start the engine.
He remained aware of the road all the way home: every red light, every turn, every car around him. Yet the journey felt distant, as though he were watching someone else drive. He remembered what he did without feeling fully present for any of it.
When he reached his building, he parked carefully and turned off the engine. Awareness settled around him slowly. He was home. He was alone. Chung-Hee was no longer beside him.
“I did nothing wrong,” he murmured to himself.
This time, he almost believed it.