Chapter Text
Sunghoon was ready to go on air. He sat comfortably on the stool and checked his reflection in the monitor, adjusting his position until he was perfectly framed at the ideal height for his hands to be visible.
To his left, Kim Sunoo was checking his own reflection in a pocket mirror one last time, applying lip balm before taking a quick swig of water. He turned to Sunghoon with a warm, radiant smile.
“Let’s do a great job today as well!”
Sunghoon nodded hesitantly, always a little taken aback by how bright Sunoo was. To him, Sunoo felt like a breath of fresh air in the middle of a stagnant day.
“We’re so lucky we have Sunoo as our weather forecaster,” one of the floor managers said to a female colleague who had only recently joined the company.
“Yes, I heard he’s expensive, but he’s a good investment. Everyone loves his bubbly personality. He’s so handsome, and he’s just as charming off-screen as he is on,” she replied.
“How would you know?” he asked.
“He helped me the other day with some heavy boxes,” she answered.
“Ah, I’m so jealous…”
“And what about our sign language interpreter?” she asked, glancing toward Sunghoon.
“Ah, Park Sunghoon? Well, I don’t know much about him. He’s mute, and I can’t sign. Besides, he’s quite distant and reserved, I suppose. He seems to do a good job; I’ve seen people complimenting his hand movements, but I wouldn't know. And…” he lowered his voice, as if Sunghoon couldn't hear every word. “I heard he had strings pulled for him to get the job…”
That was a typical day in Sunghoon’s life. People looked down on him for being mute and made no effort to communicate, only to label him cold and distant. And, of course, there was the constant gossip about how he’d landed the job. Sadly, he was used to it.
“You do realise Sunghoon-hyung is mute, not deaf, right?” Sunoo scolded them.
The pair went silent, looking ashamed, as they should.
“Okay, team,” the director called. “We’re live in three… two… one…”
“Good afternoon, this is Kim Sunoo from BDN. Let’s take a look at today's forecast. We are expecting a severe rainstorm to move in this evening, so we advise everyone to stay indoors where possible...”
Sunghoon signed what appeared on the monitor, making sure he remained perfectly synchronised with Sunoo’s delivery. And on top of just translating, he tried his best to mirror Sunoo’s body language and expressions, capturing his energy.
As soon as the segment ended, Sunghoon let out a quiet sigh. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sunoo approaching to offer him a bottle of water.
“Don’t listen to them; they’re just being ignorant. Regardless of how you got the job, you’re proving every day why you’re the one doing the work. I’m always impressed by how fast you sign. I’ve watched some of our broadcasts back, and the way your hands move is so graceful. It’s honestly mesmerising!”
Sunghoon nodded to thank him as he took the bottle. They weren’t friends, though Sunghoon often wished they could be. But he knew their worlds shouldn't collide. Sunoo was popular and beloved by all, while Sunghoon was the company pariah. He had no desire to tarnish Sunoo’s reputation by association, so he preferred to keep things exactly as they were.
After the broadcast, the studio was already buzzing as Sunghoon was unequipping himself and about to leave the set, when a production runner scurried onto the set, clutching a stack of updated scripts. He did a lap of the room, handing out the new briefs for today’s segment and announcing a change to the schedule.
“Listen up, everyone! We’ve just got the feed from the Westech press conference. Oh Cheolsoo is about to speak live,” the runner shouted over the chatters.
The whole set became silent. Sunoo perked up, and even the cynical crew members stopped what they were doing to look at the main monitors.
Oh Cheolsoo was the golden boy of Korean tech. As a biomedical engineer, entrepreneur, and CEO, he was often described as the “Steve Jobs of the medical world.”
On the screen, Oh Cheolsoo stood on a stage under a single spotlight. He wasn't wearing a suit; instead, he wore a simple white shirt under a beige crew neck. Like that, he looked approachable yet untouchable. Cheolsoo has had his hair bleached for a few months now. His eyes were intense, even through a screen, accentuated by his monolids. He held a small device in his hand —the new generation of bone-conduction headphones.
“For decades, we have accepted that hearing is a gift of the ears,” Cheolsoo said as he paced the stage slowly. “But at Westech, we believe hearing is a gift of the mind. Today, we're not just launching a new headphone, but we are launching a bridge to bring together people who can hear and those who are hearing impaired.”
He paused for effect, to build the anticipation of the auditorium.
“This technology emits vibration, sure, but it translates by bypassing damaged pathways to bring sound directly to the inner ear with ninety-nine per cent clarity. It is the end of isolation.”
Back in the studio, the floor staff were whispering, all in awe and adoration.
“He really has it all, doesn't he?” the female staff member sighed, leaning against a camera rig. “He’s the CEO, the lead engineer, and he looks like a model. Whoever is married to him must be the luckiest person in the country. Imagine waking up to that much charisma every day.”
Sunoo suddenly spun around, his usual sweet face replaced by a frown and a pout. “Excuse me! Could you please be quiet? I can't hear what he's saying!”
“What a fanboy, even at work”, she said jokingly.
Sunghoon, who hadn’t moved an inch, turned his attention back to the screen. Cheolsoo was now answering a question from the press.
“And yes, we are already looking into how this haptic technology can be applied to speech. We want to give the mute a voice. We want to ensure that no one is ever truly silent again,” he said.
A wave of applause erupted from the screen, filling the studio, while Sunghoon’s jaw tensed so hard it ached. Then, a bitter taste rose in his throat as he watched the man the world adored. What a hypocrite, he thought. And without waiting for the feed to end, Sunghoon grabbed his bag and walked off the set. He was done for the day, and he couldn't stand to breathe the same air as Cheolsoo for a second longer, even though it was only just a digital projection. And just like that, Sunghoon headed straight to the parking lot to get his car and drove to his next meeting point. Just as Sunoo had predicted, the sky was a bruised grey, heavy with dark clouds. The rain began to fall; it was far from a storm yet, but he knew what was coming.
Sunghoon pulled up in front of a house in the Yongsan district. As he climbed out of the car, he noticed his mother’s vehicle was already parked there. He hurried to the entrance and knocked. A maid opened the door, greeted him with a bow, and invited him to follow her into the living room.
He took off his shoes and left his bag in the hallway, his heart beating so fast he feared it was audible to everyone in the house. The residence was grand, luxurious and abundant in terms of decoration. It was just another way for the owners to show off their wealth. Even though he had walked these white marble corridors and passed these priceless paintings hundreds of times since childhood, he could never really shake his anxiety.
Sunghoon’s mother was already seated across from Oh Ayeong.
“Good afternoon, son,” his mother said, patting his back.
Sunghoon flinched, not used at all to such outward displays of affection from her. That day, she wore an eccentric outfit by a European designer —something probably prohibitively expensive.
He gave a shy bow to Oh Ayeong, who didn’t even spare him a glance. She was too busy texting while sipping her tea. She dressed with far more modesty, yet she exuded much more class and authority than his own mother.
After several long seconds of silence, with Sunghoon’s mother fidgeting beside him, Oh Ayeong finally put down her cup and looked Sunghoon straight in the eye.
“I think it’s time for you to quit your job,” she said.
Sunghoon’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“You know the election campaign starts in a month, don’t you?” she continued. “Stop all your activities and stay at home. You don’t need to work; my son —your husband— can support you both. We don’t want you causing any problems that could compromise the campaign for your father-in-law.”
“But Sunghoon is not the type to—” Sunghoon’s mother started.
“He should never have started working in the first place,” Oh Ayeong interrupted, glancing at Sunghoon’s mother with disdain before turning her attention back to him. “Last year, you practically begged to be allowed to work because you complained about how suffocating it was to stay at home all day. My son was incredibly generous to allow it… but we never imagined you’d want to be an interpreter on national television. Had I known, I would never have let it happen. Quit your job, immediately.”
Sunghoon’s throat tightened and his palms grew damp. It was such an unfair demand. He still remembered the hell of the previous year, when he had to spend months entirely alone. Even in a penthouse large enough to house everything he could need and more that he could ever afford, he had withered from boredom. He needed a purpose and needed to contribute.
If he had to fight with his husband tonight or beg on his knees to keep working, he would.
“And tell me, is there any improvement in your selective mutism?” his mother-in-law asked.
“Why should he improve?” Sunghoon’s mother asked to defend Sunghoon.
Sunghoon gripped his trousers so hard his knuckles turned white. He appreciated the gesture, but didn’t feel comfortable with the whole situation. He didn’t want his mother to get into trouble just because of him. So he tried his best to steady his breathing, focusing on the rain drumming against the window —anything to anchor himself.
“No, you’re right. It’s for the best that he keeps his mouth shut,” Oh Ayeong said. “That’s all I had to say. You may leave.”
Sunghoon and his mother stood in sync and bowed. Without another word, Oh Ayeong headed upstairss. The maid appeared immediately to lead them out. At least it hadn’t lasted long. Sunghoon sighed and went to open his car door, but he was stopped, as his mother laid a gentle hand on his.
“It’s not your fault, Sunghoon. Don’t listen to her… But maybe it’s time for you to step back into the shadows. Mr Jang will give you back that post once the campaign is over and…”
Sunghoon tried his best to conceal any emotion. I’m used to hearing this. It’s nothing new, and it isn't true, so it shouldn’t hurt, he thought to himself.
“I’m such a bad mother to ask you that... But you are the second child of the Belift Daily News chairman and the son-in-law of the potential next president, so you sometimes have to make concessions.”
Every step he had taken for years had been a constant reminder of that fact, and he was used to it by then, but it didn’t mean that it wasn’t unfair. So Sunghoon pushed his mother’s hand away from the car door, climbed inside, and simply drove away. He drove with no destination in mind. He didn’t want to go home just yet, so he just wandered, steering the car toward a quieter part of the city.
He eventually pulled into a parking lot near a convenience store. He ran through the pouring rain, rushing to get inside. He bought his favourite ice cream —a melon-flavoured Melona— and ate it there, feeling completely drained. At least this brought him some comfort, even if it was only for five minutes.
Once he had finished, Sunghoon headed back to his car, once again dashing through the rain. In his haste, he caught his finger in the door handle. He hissed in pain and sat in the driver's seat, frustrated at his own clumsiness. It stung, but it didn’t hurt as much as the life he was trapped in. He had never asked for any of this. He was a puppet on a string, easily manipulated by everyone, silenced because he couldn’t talk back. Or rather, silenced because no one was willing to understand him.
With a sigh, he entered his address into the GPS and started the engine. He had meant to be home before the storm hit, but he realised he was too late. It was pouring so hard that he had to slow down —not that he was in any hurry to return to the penthouse anyway. Once on the road, he put on some music to make the ride feel less lonely. He’d been into city pop lately, especially Japanese tracks. They were soothing, and even though he couldn’t always understand the lyrics right away, he would look them up later. Most of the time, he found he could relate to them.
Sunghoon began to whistle along as he drove, his eyes focused on the road, until the music suddenly froze on a single, unpleasant note. It startled him, but it had happened before; usually, the dashboard just needed to restart itself. So he waited patiently, but the system didn't shut down. Instead, the automated voice of the GPS suddenly announced: “You’ve gone off route.”
What kind of bad luck was this? Sighing with annoyance, he hit the hazard lights and began to pull over onto the hard shoulder. But just as he thought the car was coming to a halt, Sunghoon lost control. The tyres screeched, and the car kept moving. For a second, Sunghoon thought he was aquaplaning, but even as he slammed his foot onto the brake, nothing happened. On the contrary, the car began to accelerate. Sunghoon panted, his hands gripping the wheel. Was it a technical glitch, or was the car being hacked? Why was this happening to him? He tried to open the door, but it was blocked.
Sunghoon checked the rearview mirror to ensure he wasn’t putting other drivers in danger. What he saw there made his heart stop.
A pair of eyes was staring back at him.
Cheolsoo sat at his desk, reviewing the reports his secretary, Hokazono Iroha, had just brought in. She noticed his phone vibrating on the sleek surface.
“Sir, you have a call,” she said confidently.
“Who is it? Is it important?” he asked, without looking up.
She squinted, leaning forward to get a better look at the screen and said, “It’s... an unknown number. I believe it’s from abroad.”
Cheolsoo raised an eyebrow and set the reports aside. He picked up the phone to check for himself. 128-000-2002 was displayed across the screen.
Out of curiosity, he answered.
“Oh Cheolsoo speaking.”
There was no reply. He could only hear the muffled sound of a car in motion and a rhythmic drumming of rain.
“Please, speak,” he tried in English, thinking it could be an international business lead.
Still, there was nothing but the white noise of the storm.
“I shall hang up if you don’t say something.”
“Oh Cheolsoo,” a voice finally responded.
It took him aback; the voice sounded remarkably like a child's. Perhaps it was a high-pitched woman’s voice.
“So, it really is you,” the voice said.
“What do you want? This is my private line. If you wish to discuss business, you can call my office on the—”
“Kill...” the child-like voice interrupted. “I’m going to kill your husband.”
Cheolsoo leaned over his desk, taken aback, but he didn’t lose his temper. Just as he was about to retort, his phone vibrated, and the screen went black. It had run out of battery at the worst possible moment.
“Go back to work,” he ordered his secretary. She bowed and left the room immediately.
As soon as he had plugged the phone in and switched it back on, he called his mother.
“Oh! Look who’s calling! My dear son! Your face is all over the national news channels—”
“Were you with your son-in-law today?” he cut her off, bypassing the pleasantries.
“Sunghoon? Yes, and with his mother. Why do you ask?”
“Is he safe?”
“What do you mean? What would happen to him? He went straight home after they visited—”
“Is he safe or not?” Cheolsoo cut her off again.
“O-Of course, he’s safe. He went out for dinner with his mother.”
“Alright. Thank you. Goodnight,” he said, hanging up abruptly.
He jotted the number 128-000-2002 onto a Post-it note and stepped out to the main office floor.
“Park Jay.”
“Yes, sir?” Jay said as he looked up from his computer.
“Can you trace this number for me?” Cheolsoo asked, sliding the note across the desk. “I suspect it’s a phishing scam.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Cheolsoo returned to his private office. Almost immediately, he heard his phone vibrating on the desk again. The same number appeared. He sat down and picked it up.
“You said you’d kill him. Have you? Do you even know who my husband is?” Cheolsoo waited for a response, but when none came, he continued. “Listen, I’m busy, and I’d like to head home soon.”
“I dare you to hang up right now,” the child’s voice said. “I have a knife to your husband’s throat as we speak.”
Then, the caller let out a maniacal laugh and said, “I’m really going to kill him, you know. I’ll kill him.”
“I know you’re not with him. Stop calling me.”
He hung up.
The line went dead. Sunghoon had expected nothing from the call, yet the disappointment still created a hole of sorrow in his chest. He glanced at his kidnapper in the rearview mirror, his mind racing, uncertain of what would happen next. For now, all he could do was sit there and keep driving.
The kidnapper was losing his temper, spitting out curses and thrashing in the back seat.
“That bastard actually dared to hang up on me?” he hissed.
A split second later, Sunghoon felt something wrap around his throat. It crushed his windpipe, yanking his neck back hard against the seat. He tore his hands away from the wheel, clawing at the cord or wire that was strangling him. The tyres screeched against the wet road as the car veered out of control. Sunghoon's face burned, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. The world began to spin as a heavy pounding started behind his eyes.
“Fuck, these kinds of expressions are my favourite,” the kidnapper said as he let out a sadistic laugh.
Then, the pressure finally eased. Sunghoon slumped forward, coughing violently. One hand moved back to the wheel while the other, trembling, stayed pressed against his throat. Tears blurred his vision. It was all too much.
“See? I’m dead serious. I can kill you right now. But we have a problem, because your husband thinks this is some kind of joke,” the man fumed. “And why exactly did he ask if I knew who his husband was? It’s you, isn’t it? Or does he have someone else? A mistress, perhaps?”
Sunghoon was paralysed, unable to think. He desperately wanted to maintain his composure and keep his chin up, but inside, his mind was pure chaos. He wanted to thrash, to scream, to hurl himself out of the moving car.
“I’m calling him again. He’d better pick up, or I’m killing you for real this time.”
Sunghoon heard the phone ringing through the speakers, but this time, the call went unanswered. The kidnapper dialled again, becoming more impatient, but still, Cheolsoo didn't pick up.
“Fuck! This bastard is ignoring me,” he swore. He leaned back against the seat before suddenly, without warning, he began to hammer his fists against Sunghoon’s headrest. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!”
He kept hitting it with a frenzied rhythm. With every strike, Sunghoon’s heart skipped a beat until he felt something sharp graze his neck. A thin line of pain bloomed where the skin had been sliced. Sunghoon wanted to wince, but he bit his lip, refusing to let a single sound escape. He wouldn’t give the kidnapper the satisfaction of hearing him being weak. He had spent his whole life concealing his pain; he could do it again.
“Hey, Park Sunghoon. Do you want to know something cool? This phone... it can only call Oh Cheolsoo’s number. There’s an integrated voice modulator that changes my voice into a child’s, and it uses a VPN so it’s impossible to track within ten minutes,” he laughed, sounding genuinely impressed by the technology he used. “Also, as you’ve probably noticed, I’ve hacked your car. I installed a programme that prevents it from stopping. I came prepared... but for some reason, your fucking husband won’t answer!!”
Sunghoon flinched, and then he heard the line connect. He wanted to scream for help, to tell Cheolsoo how serious this was... But no sound came out of his mouth, ever facing the barrier in his mind that he could never cross; lying in a coffin, buried alive.
“I told you to stop calling me. I’ll block your number,” Cheolsoo’s said through the speakers.
“So, you really don’t care if I kill your husband?” the kidnapper asked.
Sunghoon heard Cheolsoo scoff and say, “Fine. Kill him. Hurry up and get it over with. Only call me back once there’s a corpse. Otherwise, do not call me again.”
The line went dead. The kidnapper hissed, and he began to frantically hammer his fists against the back of Sunghoon’s seat.
“Only call me back once there’s a corpse.” The words echoed in Sunghoon’s mind, over and over, so cruel and so biting. He had known their wedding was only just an arrangement; he had never expected Cheolsoo to love him, but this was too much. This was going much too far. It hurt so much he wanted to throw up. Do I not matter at all? Am I just a burden to Cheolsoo, the same way I am to my mother? Sunghoon wondered. I’m sorry I’m not the perfect son or the perfect husband, but am I really worth so little? Am I not even worth saving? Am I such a lost cause that I’d be better off dead? All these negative thoughts clung to him like tar. It was maddening.
And the worst part was that he hadn’t chosen to be born, nor had he chosen this marriage. “But you are the second child of the Belift Daily News chairman and the son-in-law of the potential next president, so you sometimes have to make concessions.” He thought about his mother's words earlier in the afternoon. Did it involve letting himself die in silence too?
No matter how much he wanted to let out the truth and tell the world about his frustration, he knew no one was ever listening. It had been this way ever since he was a kid.
Sunghoon wished he could let it all out, scream or cry, but even if he could, he felt too numb and hollow. What was the point of anything?
“Park Sunghoon, what are you doing?” the kidnapper barked.
Sunghoon kept his eyes fixed on the road as he put the pedal to the metal.
“You fucking idiot, what do you think you’re doing?!” the kidnapper yelled, lunging forward to grab the wheel. “Stop the goddamn car! You’re going to get both of us killed!”
It was almost funny. In his panic at the rising speed, the kidnapper seemed to have forgotten the very programme he had installed himself, which prevented the car from stopping. Sunghoon wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, at this stupid, broken life.
The needle on the speedometer kept climbing. The kidnapper continued to swear at him, wrestling for control, until Sunghoon saw a massive speed bump ahead. His eyes went wide. In a final burst of lucidity, Sunghoon deactivated the airbags. Then he braced himself for the impact.
The wheels hit the bump, sending the car airborne. For a brief moment, Sunghoon felt weightless, his body floating in the air. When the car slammed back down to the ground, the kidnapper’s head hit the interior with a loud thud. The car began to skid, aquaplaning for real this time.
If I have to die tonight, so be it, Sunghoon thought. But since I’ve never been in control of my life, I’ll at least be the one to decide how it ends. Let it be unforgettable, and perhaps this time, I’ll finally get his attention.
A deafening crash, and the whole world stopped.
Sunghoon’s ears rang as his head slumped against the wheel. His entire body, especially his neck, felt sore and aching. He forced himself to turn around. The kidnapper lay slumped in the back seat, unconscious, his phone on the floor of the car. In a swift motion, Sunghoon snatched that phone before he reached for the door handle. This time, it opened easily. He practically fell out of the car and onto the wet tarmac. The cold rain felt like a blessing against his heated skin. Panting, he gathered what little strength he had left to stumble as far away from his car as possible.
He didn’t know how long he had been running when he finally saw lights. A car pulled over, its hazard lights blinking. As relief washed over him, Sunghoon’s legs finally gave up under him. A man in his forties climbed out of the vehicle and hurried over to help him up.
“What happened, young man?”
Sunghoon reached for his phone and shakily typed out that his car had been hacked and he had crashed into a tree.
“Oh, I’ve seen that on the news. It’s happening a lot lately, isn't it? Are you hurt?”
Sunghoon wanted to say that everything hurt, but he simply shook his head. He just wanted to go home and forget that this day had ever happened.
“I’ll call a breakdown service for you, then. Come on, get in. I’ll drive you home,” the man offered.
The moment he returned to the penthouse, Sunghoon rushed to the bathroom, stripping off his soaking wet clothes because they ironically felt as if they were scalding his skin. Once he switched on the light, he realised that the collar was stained with his own blood.
In a state of rising panic, he scrambled into the shower. He stood there for a long time, letting the warm water cascade over him without moving. Uninvited flashbacks of the abduction forced themselves into his mind, penetrating his brain, violating his peace. And in the meantime, Sunghoon also realised he was being hypervigilant. Every unusual sound caused an involuntary spasm of his body that he simply couldn’t control. It made him feel disgusted and furious with himself.
At this point, Sunghoong was angry about what had happened, angry at the kidnapper, and even if he didn’t want to admit it, he was deeply hurt by Cheolsoo’s reaction —or rather, the lack of any. But the worst thing was that he was angry with himself for being so ready to give up on his life. Those intrusive thoughts hadn't surfaced for a long time, and they had chosen the worst possible moment to return. The rage boiled in his veins, mixing with the tremors of PTSD. He felt a desperate need to tear himself out of his own skin, anything to silence his mind and the throbbing pain that was a constant reminder of the night's events.
Sunghoon spent 45 minutes under the shower, hoping the water would wash away both the memories and the pain, but the discomfort lingered.
When he finally got out, he had to tend to his wounds. He checked his neck in the mirror first. Ugly blue and purple lines were already blooming across his throat. He felt like he was about to crash out, but he forced himself to stay still. At this moment, losing it wouldn't help him.
Instead, he pulled the first-aid kit from the medcine cabinet. He began by disinfecting his visible wounds. There was a slice on his neck and another on his forehead —he had no memory of when that one had happened. Thankfully, neither looked deep. He dabbed at them with cotton wool drenched in antiseptic. It stung a little, but it helped him ground himself. Then, he applied a thick layer of ointment to the bruises around his neck and on his temples, massaging the skin with careful, trembling fingers.
Next, he headed to his bedroom and pulled on the only set of pyjamas he owned with a high turtleneck. He could hide the cut on his forehead with his hair, but the marks on his neck were too telling. He didn't want to see them in his reflection for the rest of the night; he wanted them hidden because they disgusted him.
Still unable to fully calm his racing heart, he tried a technique he had learned while he was at uni. He sat on the living room sofa and played two games of Tetris on his phone. He remembered reading that it could reduce the impact of PTSD. And to his great relief, it seemed to work. By focusing on the falling blocks, the flashbacks became less frequent and lost their intensity. His breathing eventually returned to a normal rhythm. His heart was still thumping harder than usual, but the panic had finally begun to dull.
Cheolsoo drove as fast as he could, parking the car and reaching the penthouse around 10PM. He punched in the door code with haste and rushed inside. He stopped short when he saw Sunghoon standing in pyjamas in the kitchen by the rice cooker. He knew he shouldn’t be paranoid, yet the knot of stress in his chest didn't loosen until he saw the man with his own eyes.
Attempting to steady his breathing, Cheolsoo sat at the dining table. Sunghoon had prepared dinner; had Cheolsoo not already eaten at the office, he would have gladly tried it.
“You’re alive,” he began, his voice masking his earlier panic. “I had a phishing scam call me earlier tonight, pretending they were holding you hostage.”
Sunghoon didn’t turn around. He remained perfectly still, his back straight as per usual.
“Anyway, you’re safe and sound,” Cheolsoo continued, waiting for a reaction. Sunghoon ignored him, focusing solely on serving himself some rice. “Why are you only eating now? My mother told me you went for dinner with your mother. Why—”
Sunghoon slammed the lid of the rice cooker shut. The sound echoed through the kitchen. He moved to the hob and began to scoop some soup into another bowl, his movements jerky. Before Cheolsoo could press him further, his phone vibrated.
“Yes?”
“I looked into that number you wanted me to trace... but I’ve hit a dead end,” Jay said on the other end of the line.
“What do you mean you can’t trace it?” Cheolsoo asked, frowning.
“It isn’t using mobile towers. It’s a virtual number, so it leaves no physical trail. I initially thought the area code was for the British Virgin Islands, but that’s 1284, not just 128 followed by those zeros,” Jay explained.
“Does that mean the only way to find them is to track the call in real time?”
“Bingo. And for that to work, they have to stay on the line for at least ten minutes next time they call.”
“So you’re telling me I just have to sit and wait for them to call me back?” Cheolsoo asked, then stood up from the table and headed to his bedroom, seeking privacy so as not to worry Sunghoon with the details.
“Precisely. Hit me up next time they call. I’ll try to trace them. Also, if I may add, the timing was perfect. They called right after you launched the new headphones,” Jay teased him.
Though they kept things strictly professional at the office, Cheolsoo and Jay had gone to school together. Jay was his closest friend and confidant —effectively an older brother.
“Hey! Are you siding with a criminal?” Cheolsoo asked with a similar tone.
“No, but you have to admit it’s genius. And props to them for actually managing to shake you. They did what dozens of corporate rivals have only dreamed of. How’s your hubby, by the way?”
“He’s fine, of course. But just in case, I want him under protection.”
“Good idea—” Jay was interrupted by his boyfriend calling him to bed, which drew a rare chuckle from Cheolsoo. “I gotta go. Goodnight!”
“Goodnight.”
Cheolsoo hung up and immediately dialled his secretary, Iroha.
“Sir?”
“I want you to send me a list of bodyguards to hire. And about the buffet after the Korea Biomedical Innovation Summit tomorrow. You mentioned we needed a sign language interpreter. Did you find one?”
“Not yet, sir. We’ve only found candidates who can interpret Korean to KSL, but none who can do KSL to JSL (Japanese Sign Language).”
“Wait, I think I know someone. I’ll send you the details in the morning. Goodnight.”
Cheolsoo ended the call and walked back into the kitchen. Sunghoon had already finished eating and was standing at the sink, washing his bowl.
“Come and sit down,” Cheolsoo ordered.
He began to walk towards the living room, but the sound of running water continued. Sunghoon remained at the sink, busying himself with the dishes. For some reason, he seemed particularly moody tonight.
Cheolsoo sighed softly and walked back into the kitchen. He reached out and turned off the tap to get Sunghoon’s attention.
“There’s an event tomorrow at 6PM. A buffet after a summit. I’ll have someone pick you up at five, so be ready.”
Sunghoon finally turned around, meeting his eyes. He looked puzzled, his expression guarded.
“One of the biggest investors is Japanese, and his wife is deaf, so we need an interpreter. If I remember correctly, you studied both ASL and JSL. It isn’t a ‘couples’ event, so you won’t have to reveal your identity as my husband. You don't need to worry about that.”
Without waiting for a response, Cheolsoo turned and walked away.
The next day, Cheolsoo stood near the entrance of the grand palace where the after-party was being held, waiting for Sunghoon. He was already exhausted from the endless socialising. His eyes ached from the constant glare of camera flashes during the afternoon press conference and the hours spent staring at the massive LED screens during the summit.
The summit itself had felt like a marathon of high-stakes networking. For six hours, Cheolsoo had been hearing technical jargon from international investors and all the companies promoting new medical prototypes. As one of the keynote speakers, Cheolsoo had been the centre of it all, so he also had to present his vision for the future of Westech until his throat was hoarse.
On top of being mentally drained, he had to endure having a hundred gazes on him —some filled with admiration, others with envy. But tonight, thankfully, Cheolsoo was giving them a look worth watching. He wore a pair of perfectly tailored trousers and a cropped, grey pinstriped blazer over a crisp white blouse. His tie was held in place by sophisticated silver jewellery, and his platinum blond hair was styled down, framing a pair of thick black glasses. And cherry on top, an expensive watch caught the light every time he moved his wrist.
People tended to view engineers as practical men, often assuming they had questionable taste or hygiene. Cheolsoo despised that stereotype. He saw himself as a creator, an innovator in every sense of the word, so it only made sense that he enjoyed fashion. He viewed it as an outlet for creativity that had nothing to do with blueprints or bio-haptics.
He unlocked his phone, checking the real-time location of the chauffeur he had sent to fetch Sunghoon.
“Is that Oh Cheolsoo? The son of the presidential candidate?” a female voice whispered behind him.
“Ohh you’re right, that’s him. I heard he was born with a silver spoon, but he actually built his own empire, instead of just settling for his father’s shadow.”
“The inventor of the century,” another added. “Whoever is dating him must be the luckiest person alive.”
“Isn’t he married? I saw an article about it a couple of years ago, but no one has ever seen his spouse. Apparently, it’s an arranged marriage with a man.”
“Urgh...What year do we live in when arranged marriages still exist? I hope that at least his spouse is worth it—”
Cheolsoo turned around slowly with a fake polite smile on his face and said, “Ladies, if you intend to speak behind my back, at least have the courtesy to do it where I can’t hear you.”
Embarrassed, the women hurried away without a word. Cheolsoo sighed, wishing he could leave right away. He just wanted to get into his pyjamas, crawl into bed, and play his PS5 until he fell asleep.
A sudden shift in the atmosphere and a series of gasps snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned to see what had stolen the spotlight, and the sight caught him completely off guard: Sunghoon had arrived. He was dressed in a sky-blue satin blouse that shimmered under the chandelier’s light, with a silk foulard wrapped elegantly around his neck. He wore a tailored black blazer with matching trousers that made his legs look longer. As he drew closer, Cheolsoo noticed the subtlety of his makeup —just enough to enhance the already appealing features and his milk-like skin.
“You didn’t wear the outfit I sent you,” Cheolsoo remarked as Sunghoon reached him.
Sunghoon pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly typed:
| I’m sorry. It was too uncomfortable.
A loud thud echoed through the corridor. A few meters away from them, a server had dropped a tray. Cheolsoo noticed Sunghoon flinched, and his hands went to grab his arms, but he backed away at the last minute.
Cheolsoo didn’t dwell on it; he shrugged it off and said, “Alright. Let’s go.”
Cheolsoo and Sunghoon headed upstairs to the palace terrace. It was a beautiful mid-spring evening, the temperature perfect for an outdoor buffet. A small orchestra played classical music in the background. The decor was the right balance between luxury and modesty. Instead of gaudy gold and over-the-top displays, the terrace was adorned with minimalist glass sculptures and arrangements of white orchids that glowed softly under string lights. Long tables were draped in beige linen.
Ever since Sunghoon’s mother had married into the Jang family, he had been accustomed to such environments. That didn't mean he felt at ease, nor did it mean the people there didn't irritate him, but at the very least, this venue was classy and expensive without being too showy, which was surprising for a change.
Cheolsoo and Sunghoon joined the investor —the man Cheolsoo needed to greet— and his wife. As they approached, Sunghoon tried to steady his breathing because he still hadn't fully recovered from the trauma of the previous night. That was when he realised that his hand instinctively rose to his face, his thumb grazing his bottom lip in a slow and reassuring motion. It was a lingering remnant of a much harsher habit from his childhood —a nervous tic he had once used. Through years of therapy and the discipline of his professional life, he had managed to temper it; he no longer bit or picked at the skin until it was raw. Now, it was merely a gentle caress, a private way to reassure himself and anchor his thoughts whenever the weight of his anxiety threatened to pull him under.
Sunghoon refused to waste this opportunity to prove his worth as a sign language interpreter. Perhaps his mother would have scolded him for refusing a demand from his husband, but he preferred to think he was doing this for his own professional pride and to gain experience. He lifted his chin, set on being irreproachable.
“Oh Cheolsoo,” the investor said in Japanese. “You’re here!”
“Good evening, Mr and Mrs Yudai,” Cheolsoo replied, in Japanese that was so flawless that it startled Sunghoon for a moment, but he quickly recovered, his hands moving to interpret for Mrs Yudai.
“I didn’t know Mr Oh’s husband could sign,” Mr Yudai said.
“I’m sorry, but he isn’t my husband,” Cheolsoo cut him off immediately.
As much as Sunghoon was used to the rejection, it still stung every time Cheolsoo denied their connection. He bit his inner cheek and signed the translation anyway.
Mrs Yudai looked visibly taken aback. “You two aren’t married? My apologies, I must have been mistaken. I knew that Oh Cheolsoo was married to a man, so I simply assumed you were he, and told my husband as much.”
Sunghoon signed back quickly, “There is no need to apologise, it is quite all right. I was hired by Mr Oh to be his personal interpreter for the evening.” Then, his hands moved of their own accord, guided by muscle memory because he had signed these words a thousand times before: “We have no personal relationship. It is strictly professional.”
Mrs Yudai signed back, “I see. Thank you for the clarification. It was very thoughtful of Mr Oh to hire an interpreter for me. I tend to get bored at these kinds of events; I often feel like I am just part of the furniture because of my hearing impairment.”
Sunghoon could only offer her a small and empathetic smile, understanding exactly how she felt. Before he could respond, Mr Yudai pulled her closer, so that they could face each other, and then signed, “Who dared make my wife feel…” Mr Yudai hesitated and then signed, “bad? I should hack them and kill them?”
Mr Yudai's fingers were a little clumsy, and the way he signed was not as clear as his wife's. He should be praised for the effort, and it gave the expected result, since Mrs Yudai flushed at the attention and began to laugh. It was loud, unfiltered, and also an incredibly genuine sound. It was one of the most beautiful laughs Sunghoon had ever heard. He wasn't the only one who thought so; he could see the spark of adoration in Mr Yudai’s eyes. It was clear the man was deeply in love. For a second, Sunghoon felt a pang of envy. Mrs Yudai’s deafness hadn't stopped her husband from loving her. On the contrary, he had even learned sign language specifically to understand her and reassure her in moments just like this.
“You know how to sign?” Cheolsoo asked, looking genuinely impressed.
“Barely. I’m still practising! But it’s definitely a goal I’d like to achieve… I’m sorry, I’m getting sidetracked. I didn’t mean to bore you with my personal life,” Mr Yudai replied.
“Not at all. Besides, you’re speaking to someone who works in that very field. Perhaps in the not-so-distant future, technology will be advanced enough to enable the profoundly or totally deaf to hear again,” Cheolsoo said.
“On that note, may I say that your presentation yesterday was brilliant. And again today on stage! It’s no wonder people call you the Steve Jobs of the medical world! You’ve certainly earned the title.”
They proceeded to discuss investments and negotiations. Sunghoon did his level best to keep up, ensuring Mrs Yudai stayed included in the conversation, but at some point, she gently touched his arm to stop his hands.
She signed, “I am so grateful to you for interpreting everything, but I don’t understand the technicalities. It is all jargon to me.”
She offered him a kind smile; she didn’t look sad about it, so Sunghoon simply nodded. They stood in silence until Mr Yudai and Cheolsoo finally concluded their business.
“Well, it was a pleasure as always,” Mr Yudai said. “And sorry again for rattling on with my stories. That was definitely too much information.”
“I promise I didn’t mind. And to be honest with you…” Cheolsoo began. Sunghoon, ever the professional, immediately started signing for Mrs Yudai again. “My husband has a disability as well.”
Sunghoon’s hands faltered for a fraction of a second. He hadn't expected Cheolsoo to mention his husband —to mention him— publicly, but he recovered instantly and kept signing.
“Really? I don’t recall ever seeing him. Why does he never accompany you?” Mr Yudai asked, lowering his voice slightly. “Is it because your partner is a man?”
“Not at all,” Cheolsoo answered with that same polished smile stuck on his face. “It’s because my husband is my weakness.”
“Your weakness? Is it because of his condition, then?” Mr Yudai asked, invested.
“Quite the opposite. Not to sound boastful or conceited, but you know that I am the name on everyone’s lips these days. I’m not even an idol or a professional athlete, yet I live like a celebrity —at least, I face the worst downsides of it. I just don’t want my husband to be exposed to the same daily life I face.”
Sunghoon signed every word, mirroring the polite smile on Cheolsoo’s face. It was a smile that didn't reach his eyes. If he weren't forced to play this part, he would be clenching his jaw so hard his teeth might break. “What a fucking liar,” Sunghoon thought to himself.
“Ah, your weakness in that sense!” Mr Yudai exclaimed. “You simply want to protect him by keeping his identity private.”
Mrs Yudai signed something, and Mr Yudai translated it immediately. “She says you look intimidating, but you turn out to be quite the romantic.”
“Mr and Mrs Yudai! Fancy seeing you here!” a voice called out from behind them. Sunghoon took a step back, making room for the newcomers.
“Please excuse us. Let’s meet again soon,” Cheolsoo said, taking the opportunity to step away as well.
An acquaintance seized the chance to corner Cheolsoo, and Sunghoon took the opportunity to retreat into the shadows. He needed to recharge his social battery and, more importantly, to calm himself down. He moved as far from the central tables as possible, leaning against a stone balustrade. The sky was pitch-black, but the glare from the party drowned out the stars. A small breeze brushed his cheek; usually, this helped him anchor himself, but tonight it did nothing. Sunghoon was absolutely livid.
He still couldn't believe the audacity Cheolsoo had displayed, lying so effortlessly while standing right next to him.
A server passed by, offering a flute of champagne. Sunghoon took one and downed it in a single go. He placed the empty glass back on the silver tray and immediately picked up another. He was about to bring the third to his lips when it was suddenly snatched from his hand.
“Are you trying to get drunk?” Cheolsoo asked, before drinking the champagne himself.
Sunghoon pulled his phone from his pocket and typed:
| If you no longer require my services, I’m going home.
“You can’t. Not yet,” Cheolsoo said.
The dismissive sound of it irritated Sunghoon even further. He began to type, but Cheolsoo pressed his hand firmly over the screen to stop him. Being silent wasn’t enough for his husband; now he wanted to silence him too?
“Just stand still and stay quiet. Is that really too much to ask? And stop drinking —I need you to stay alert,” Cheolsoo said, turning to walk away.
Sunghoon’s hand shot out, catching Cheolsoo by the forearm. He had reached his limit. Perhaps the alcohol had also blurred the line, but after the terror of the previous night and Cheolsoo’s behaviour, he couldn’t bear it a second longer, so his hands began to move, filled with a desperation stemming from all the torment he had accumulated in less than 24 hours.
“Do you have any idea how cruel you are?” he signed, his facial expression entirely transparent for the first time since they got married. “Do you think that because I can't speak, I’m somehow inferior to you? That I’m just a tool at your disposal, to be bossed around whenever it pleases you? I might be pragmatic and look cold, but I still have a heart.”
Sunghoon's fingers trembled as he felt overwhelmed by all the thoughts and emotions he had bottled up and was finally letting go of, but he didn't stop signing.
“How dare you tell the Yudais that you’re hiding me to protect me. I know exactly what I agreed to when I married you. I know I am meant to stay hidden, but inventing a touching story and mentioning your husband like that was entirely unnecessary. It was uncalled for, and above all, it was a lie. Where was this sudden surge of affection when I actually needed it? If you wanted to protect me so badly, where were you yesterday when I was on the brink of death? Do you know how terrified I was? No, because you assumed that call was a scam. You didn’t even ask if I was alright. You never do.”
He finished with a final, heartbreaking sign: “I’m sorry I’m not the partner you wanted. I’m sorry I’m not enough, no matter what I do. But if you don’t even care if I live or die, why won't you just let me go? Why won't you just give me a divorce? So to answer you: yes, standing here next to you and playing along with your fantasy is becoming unbearable.”
Without waiting for a response, Sunghoon grabbed another flute of champagne from a passing tray, downed it right in front of Cheolsoo’s stunned face, and walked away, furious. He needed to be alone. He ducked inside the palace, searching for the disabled toilets, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Cheolso was still dumbfounded by what happened a few minutes ago. He’s never seen Sunghoon angry. He’s never seen Sunghoon show any kind of expression since their marriage, actually. He sadly didn’t get anything he said, even though he wished he did.
Cheolsoo’s phone vibrated in his pocket, snapping him back to reality. As soon as he saw 128 on his screen, he immediately texted Jay. Then he stepped away from the crowd and answered with a smirk. He was certain he held all the cards now.
“You didn’t manage to kill my husband,” Cheolsoo said, almost with arrogance. “It was all a bluff; he’s perfectly safe.” There was a long pause, so Cheolsoo, who was slowly losing patience, asked, “Why have you gone silent? I have plenty of time right now, so let’s hear it! What is your next pathetic attempt going to be?”
“Ah, I-I’m glad you’re having such a wonderful time at your party,” the modulator-distorted child’s voice replied. The tone was chillingly calm this time, almost icy. “You’re quite the actor, Cheolsoo. You’re good at pretending to be the hopeless romantic.”
Cheolsoo stiffened. How could they know?
“What’s the matter?” the voice asked. “At a loss for words? I’ve been observing you this whole time.”
“You’re lying,” Cheolsoo said, his eyes darting around the terrace. “There is no way anyone could get into this party. It’s a restricted circle with the highest level of security.”
“The security is so high that I watched you take a sip of Dom Pérignon, but noticed you haven’t eaten a bite yet. You shouldn't drink on an empty stomach, Oh Cheolsoo. Why not try one of the truffle arancini? Oh, wait... I forgot. You can't stand the taste of mushrooms, can you?”
Cheolsoo’s blood ran cold, and he asked, “How do you know that? Who are you?”
“Ah, so I’m not lying or bluffing anymore? Now you want to know how I got in?” the voice giggled —a sound that felt like sandpaper against Cheolsoo's nerves. “You asked me how I planned on hurting your husband…”
“Don’t you mess with me...” Cheolsoo warned. He spun around, searching the crowd frantically for Sunghoon, but the sky-blue satin blouse was nowhere to be seen, so he ran inside the palace, his heart hammering as he scanned the corridors for an attacker or Sunghoon.
“Look who’s talking. Why the sudden panic?” the voice mocked. “You should have acted like this yesterday, but you didn’t believe me then, did you?”
“Listen, if you wanted to get to me, you targeted the wrong person,” Cheolsoo hissed, ducking into a quiet hallway. “Do you even have any idea who my husband is?”
“I know exactly who he is. Better than you do, actually. Nobody knows his face because you’ve hidden him in a golden cage for years… But he’s only a rebound, isn't he? You were supposed to marry his stepsister, Jang Wonyoung.”
Cheolsoo stopped dead.
“She ran away the day before the wedding. No one knows why or where she went. You took her stepbrother because you didn’t have much choice. Your families are inseparable. You were forced into this arranged marriage, holding Park Sunghoon hostage to save face.” The voice paused, and then, with a laugh, it continued, “Look how quiet you are now. Have I finally piqued your interest? Do you believe me now?”
“What do you want from me?” Cheolsoo managed to ask despite the lump in his throat.
“Finally! Something reasonable coming out of your mouth. I was starting to think you had a heart of stone.”
“Stop beating around the bush. Tell me your price.”
“Fine. I’ll tell you what I want. Set Park Sunghoon free. Divorce him and marry whoever you like. You don’t need him in your life anyway, do you?”
Cheolsoo’s grip tightened on the phone until his knuckles turned white.
“Did you hear me? If you don’t want me to tear your reputation, your legacy, and your family down to ashes, you will do exactly as I say. That, or we settle for two billion won. You have until tomorrow,” the voice said.
“Are you done yet?” Cheolsoo said, as he let out a bitter laugh. “I'll give you that, and you've found a few secrets —but have you already forgotten who I am? My family and the Jangs are as thick as thieves, you said it yourself. Go ahead, spread everything to the press. I’ll turn them into fake news as easily as I breathe. Why would I ever give in and abandon Park Sunghoon? Who do you think you are to threaten my person?”
“My person? Are you insane or just blind? Probably blind, because you didn’t see what happened to your so-called ‘person’ yesterday… I almost killed him. I hijacked his car, I choked him, I held a knife to his throat. I was going to end him…”
“So?” Cheolsoo replied.
“So? I was going to kill him, and he couldn't even beg for his life because he’s mute. And that was when you just hung up the phone. You left him to his fate. You told me to call back only when there was a corpse, but sure... he’s your ‘precious person’. It was pitch black last night, the road was slick with rain, and the car was spinning out of control. Park Sunghoon could have died right then. Alone.”
Cheolsoo’s voice was trembling when he finally said, “Aha... interesting. Very interesting. You know what? Forget about being arrested. I promise you this: I am going to catch you myself.”
Cheolsoo didn’t know if the threat had been effective or if the extortionist had simply realised that the call was going to last more than ten minutes, but they hung up immediately.
Inside the disabled toilet, Sunghoon leaned his back against the cold, tiled wall and finally let his shoulders drop. The adrenaline from his confrontation with Cheolsoo on the terrace —that was still flashing before his eyes— mixed with the dull throb of the bruises hidden beneath his silk foulard, and the effect of the alcohol. He reached into the deep, inner pocket of his blazer. His fingers brushed against his own phone, but he bypassed it, his hand closing instead around another one with a cracked screen: the burner phone that he had snatched from the kidnapper. It had been a desperate and impulsive act because he needed to hold on to the only evidence of that night.
For a while, Sunghoon just stood still, staring at the screen in the dim bathroom light. For years, he had been the silent observer in his own life, a ghost in Cheolsoo’s penthouse, a pawn in a family merger.
[2 years ago]
Sunghoon sat alone in the private fitting room, staring at his own reflection. He had spent hours choosing this costume, hoping it would be perfect for the wedding. It was a stunning Victorian-style piece: a pristine white frock coat with silver embroidery and a subtle sky-blue inner coat that matched the discreet ribbons cascading down his chest. His fingers, cold from anxiety, were brushing his bottom lip. He had just called Cheolsoo, seeking some small shred of confirmation that the outfit was suitable before buying it.
The door to the boutique barged open, and Cheolsoo came in. Back then, his hair was still its natural jet-black, and he was dressed in a simple, corporate-casual outfit that made Sunghoon’s theatrical costume look ridiculous by comparison. He suddenly felt so self-aware and out of place, like he didn’t belong.
“You don’t need to buy that. Put it back,” Cheolsoo said without even a greeting. “There will be no ceremony or party.”
Sunghoon’s expression remained perfectly still, but internally, something shattered. He wasn't even worth a wedding ceremony?
“You’ll never have to pretend to be my husband in front of anyone,” Cheolsoo continued coldly. “Our marriage will exist in the records, and that is all. Nobody outside of our families will ever know.”
Cheolsoo dropped a stack of papers and a pen onto the table next to Sunghoon’s seat. The latter picked them up, his eyes scanning the contract:
- Park Sunghoon cannot initiate a divorce.
- Park Sunghoon must remain hidden, especially during election periods.
- Park Sunghoon shall not publicly disclose his identity as Oh Cheolsoo’s spouse.
Failure to comply with these terms will result in a penalty of two billion won.
Sunghoon wanted to scoff at it, but he remained stone-faced. He signed the contract and slid it back across the table.
“Stand up,” Cheolsoo ordered. Sunghoon didn't move, still sitting like a statue, his gaze fixed forward. “I told you to stand up,” Cheolsoo repeated.
Sunghoon didn't move a single inch. He wasn't a dog, and he wouldn't start acting like one. Instead, he locked eyes with Cheolsoo. He searched those dark eyes for some hint of a human soul, but it was like staring into a void.
Cheolsoo scoffed, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek in irritation. He dropped to one knee, then grabbed Sunghoon’s hand, pulling at his fingers with enough force, and then he slid a thin gold ring, encrusted with small diamonds, onto Sunghoon’s ring finger.
“Forget the illusion that we’re married,” Cheolsoo concluded, letting go of his hand as if it burnt him. “You were sent to me as a hostage. Don't make the mistake of falling in love with me.”
He was furious. At Cheolsoo, but also in himself, because he had a voice, but was too scared to use it. It was blocked by an invisible wall of his selective mutism, built from the bricks of his childhood ghosts. A wall that became taller and tougher to cross over the years, especially because, as he was an adult, responsibilities had piled on.
“Only call me back once there’s a corpse.”
“Unfair,” Sunghoon whispered to the empty room, while his thumb hovered over the single contact saved in the burner phone. “This is all so unfair.”
If Cheolsoo wanted to speak to a monster, Sunghoon would give him one. He was done lying low, done being crushed under the traumas of his childhood. The alcohol gave him courage, but also stripped away his patience for Cheolsoo’s action and lack of logic.
So Sunghoon set a 9-minute and 50-second timer, he cleared his throat and pressed the call button, to contact his own husband.
Suddenly, the alarm on Sunghoon’s watch vibrated. The ten minutes were up. He immediately ended the call.
Breathing heavily, he stood in the disabled toilet as the silence fell back in the room. He shoved the burner phone into the inner pocket of his blazer, then stepped out of the bathroom, his legs staggering because of the adrenaline still running through his veins. He had finally spoken, even if it was through a distorted filter, and an identity that he had stolen, a persona.
Sunghoon hadn't gone more than a few steps down the corridor when he saw Cheolsoo. His husband’s eyebrows were furrowed in a way Sunghoon had never seen before. Sunghoon froze when their eyes met. Had Cheolsoo caught him?
Cheolsoo approached quickly, and when he reached Sunghoon’s side, he raised his hand. Sunghoon blinked, half-expecting to be hit, but Cheolsoo swatted dust away from Sunghoon’s hair. What? Sunghoon didn’t even have the time to process the information that they heard a group of other guests approaching. Sunghoon only had time to blink when Cheolsoo grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into an empty room nearby.
The only light came from the moon streaming through the window. Sunghoon’s back was pressed against the wooden door as Cheolsoo closed the gap between them, anger still visible on his face. Sunghoon could feel Cheolsoo’s hot breath brushing against his skin.
“Are you hiding something from me?” Cheolsoo asked, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “Hand me your phone. Now.”
Sunghoon’s heart skipped a beat. Did he already know? He hesitated, reaching for his own personal phone instead, ready to hand it over, but Cheolsoo spoke again before he could move.
“I want you to answer me. Yesterday... did you have a car accident?”
Sunghoon didn’t understand the question at first, or at least, he didn't see where Cheolsoo was going with it. He simply nodded.
“What time?”
Sunghoon typed on his phone:
| Around 8PM
“Were you hurt?”
Sunghoon started to type a response, but then he felt Cheolsoo’s hand gently brushing the fringe off his forehead. Time seemed to freeze. Sunghoon hadn't expected such a gesture. The man stood in front of him, scanning the small wound and bruise on his forehead. Then, Cheolsoo slowly and carefully untied the silk foulard around Sunghoon’s neck. The warm contact made Sunghoon's skin prickle. That was when he heard a muffled gasp from Cheolsoo. Was this a dream? Was this really the same man Sunghoon married? Cheolsoo’s fingers passed gently over the bruised, damaged skin of Sunghoon's throat. It was so gentle and careful that for a brief moment, Sunhoon forgot about his name.
“What is this?”
Sunghoon was speechless and confused. Why did Cheolsoo sound worried? Something felt wrong.
“Park Sunghoon, I asked you what this is!”
The sudden shout startled Sunghoon. His fingers felt too stiff to type on his phone.
“Actually, never mind… I already know,” Cheolsoo muttered. “Did you see his face?”
Sunghoon came back to his senses and forced himself to type:
| No, it was too dark. He was wearing a mask and a cap.
“Did he threaten you? Did he have a knife? Sunghoon, tell me... was he really going to kill you?”
Sunghoon nodded. Cheolsoo let out a sharp, frustrated breath.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ahh... there we go. Sunghoon shut his eyes for a moment. He couldn't believe it. Was he really being turned from a victim into the person at fault for not speaking up? Still in disbelief, he wrote:
| Why would I have told you? You told the kidnapper to call only when there was a corpse.
Cheolsoo opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat. The soft look in his eyes vanished right after. He was back to being the Cheolsoo Sunghoon had always known.
“Go to the hospital and get checked over,” Cheolsoo ordered. “And make sure you have a bodyguard following you at all times from now on.”
Without another word, he abruptly opened the door in Sunghoon’s back and exited the room.
Sunghoon let out a heavy breath, his back sliding down the surface of the door until he was sitting on the floor. His head was spinning. What had just happened?