Chapter XII

“All men are born firstly with the instinct to protect themselves.

 But few grow to really love themselves,

and even fewer learn to love their neighbor as themselves.”

It was a rather hard decision but Daesung had made up his mind the night before. He stepped inside the Han Jan Café, the familiar place where they always met each other since their first days together. He was carrying a yellow folder pressed under his arm and a fair amount of questioning about what he was about to say inside his mind. Seunghyun had called him two days ago, and as usual, he had asked for favors that went over and above of what he was allowed to do as his manager. But this time Seunghyun’s voice had sounded different, like a frantic pleading masked with tones of seriousness; he could have deceived others but not him, not Daesung. Why he had accepted to do what Seunghyun requested from him this time was above his understanding. But it was probably related to the way his voice had sounded that night, like asking not for help for the case, but help for himself.

Daesung’s eyes surveyed around the interior of the establishment till he spotted a cabinet hidden at one of the far corners of the building and made his way towards it, finding its privacy appealing. He sank onto the soft paddled cabinet and ran a hand through his hair, still doubtful. He opened the folder between his hands and took the pieces of photography out, staring at them for a moment before placing it back. Daesung sighed, disappointed. He really disliked spreading rumors or handing down dubious information, incomplete facts or sometimes uncomfortable truths. He was a man who liked simplicity and relished direct speeches, unproblematic contracts. This, this made him deeply uncomfortable.

A waitress came and took his order, black tea and orange cinnamon biscuits. His fingers kept running over his face and hair, feeling disturbed.

“Dae,” an enlivened voice called his name at the distance, a voice that took Daesung some time to recognize. And when he recognized it, grew astonished for he had never heard such joyfulness in Seunghyun’s voice before.

“Seunghyun,” he answered with inquiries clearly implied in his voice. Seunghyun was looking at him with eyes that sparkled happiness and something else that Daesung could not name, but perhaps it was hope. It was a new countenance he had never encountered before.

“So, hm, you got something?” asked Seunghyun, lifting one of his eyebrows at the astonished face of Daesung as he sat in front of him over the padded cabinet.

Daesung blinked a few times and broke out of his sudden awe. “Oh, yes, yes,” his voice faltered, placing one of his hands over the yellow folder lying over the table between them. He glanced at Seunghyun again and took a moment to study his face. It irradiated bliss, as if the exhilarating feeling could no longer remain contained inside Seunghyun’s core and was escaping through his eyes, pores and skin.

“What?” Seunghyun questioned him, smiling widely and feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Nothing, it's just, eh… you are happy,” Daesung stuttered as if that was one of the strangest things he had ever seen in his life.

Seunghyun merely shrugged his shoulders, avoiding any explanation.

Daesung frowned but dropped his questioning. If he was happy that was enough for him. Seunghyun’s smiling eyes were something really delighting to see.

“So, ok. I searched through the files and asked for some help from our people back in the office to gather some info about this “Hyuang” enterprise,” Daesung announced, moving away to the matter they were reunited there for.

Seunghyun was surprised, first, because Daesung had finally accepted to help him, which extremely puzzled him, and second, because he seemed too doubtful while saying those things. His lips even quivered subtly when he spoke. Seunghyun pondered over what could be disturbing Daesung so much.

“So this Hyuang enterprise is not a Korean firm as you probably deduced already by the surname. It is an important Chinese textile and fashion company, mainly established in Beijing, Macau, Shanghai and Taipei,” Daesung explained, flicking through some papers inside his folder, “According to this article,” he added, extending the piece of paper towards Seunghyun, “It says that CHOI Co. and Hyuang enterprise were in talks for a partnership to introduce CHOI stores inside Chinese territory.”

Seunghyun took the paper between his hands and lifted it to read it, but frowned and raised his left eyebrow bothered. “I don’t know Chinese, Dae,” and stamped the piece of paper over the table. “But then again, why Jiyong did not recognize the name then?”

“Because the news never went out of China, and actually a really meagre amount of media sites announced about this partnership,” Daesung explained and took the article again and placed it inside the folder, “Seems like someone wanted it to remain a secret; even to Jiyong.”

“Why?”

Daesung shifted his body over the cabinet and averted his eyes to a young couple that had just entered inside the Café and were heading to a cabinet at the other side of the establishment. The distressing weight inside his stomach became more real and annoying. When he accepted to help Seungri, he had done it because denying Seunghyun information always turned out more dangerous at the end than handling it to him and trusting in his good judgment since Seunghyun was curious by nature and curiosity was sometimes a treacherous trait.

“I need you to promise me something before I continue,” he declared, “W-whatever you decide to do after you hear what I have to say, you’ll inform me and make me part of it,” he requested and leaned his body forward, demanding Seunghyun for answers.

Seunghyun gave him a confused stare before tightening his eyebrows, and the sparkle of joy inside his eyes switched onto concern.

“What is it?” he demanded for explanations but Daesung shook his head and kept quiet. Seunghyun finally nodded hesitantly with his head and murmured a slow “Okay, I will.”

Daesung nodded and opened the folder again; taking out the photo he had inspected before handing it to Seunghyun. The latter merely looked at the piece of paper turned down over the table without making a movement to take it. He seemed appalled, as if he was asking to himself if he really wanted to get involved that far. Finally he took a deep breath, turned the photograph over and looked at its contents for a long moment.

“Who is she?” he asked after some time. Something had changed in his stare and in his voice. It was not concern nor happiness but anger. Slow boiling anger.

“Meihui Hyuang, only daughter of Quan Hyuang, director of Hyuang E.,” Daesung answered slowly, looking sternly at every reaction and gesture in Seunghyun’s face while he pronounced those words. He knew Seunghyun would understand what that photo probably meant and would not be pleased by it at all.

Seunghyun pushed the photo away from him and backed away. The photograph remained there between both, but none made an attempt to grab it as if they were trying to make it vanish from existence. Seunghyun’s jaw was clenched and it highlighted his jaw line fiercely; his eyes were focused in unparticular spot inside the establishment, lost in his own not so delightful thoughts.

Over the table was the photo of the beautiful face and feminine body of Meihui Hyuang standing next to Choi Seunghyun. Who was holding her by her waist and smiling lovingly at her on the terrace of The Regent in Beijing.

“I hope you have an explanation for this,” hissed Seunghyun, his piercing eyes over Daesung. “Tell me you have a good excuse over why he is with her… that way,” he almost pleaded, between strained gestures and maddened eyes.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” murmured Daesung and lowered his gaze to his lap. “It seems to be what it seems to be.”

“So you are telling me Jiyong has lost his time, his sanity, six months of his life crying and grieving over a lie, over a ing liar?” Seunghyun hissed and stamped a fist onto the table, “You are telling me I have to keep to myself this and watch Jiyong fall apart because of someone who seems to have cheated on him? What am I supposed to do, Dae? What the am I supposed to do now not to punish and destroy him more than how he has been already?” Seunghyun said in fury.

“I’m sorry, Seunghyun. But I have no explanations, I just have this,” The other male replied placidly, retrieving the piece of evidence.

Seunghyun pulled himself off the table violently and swallowed an angered shout before turning to face Daesung. “I’m not angry at you, I just… I just need to clear my mind,” he said and walked out the shop, scorn filing his previously sparkling joyful eyes.

And Daesung remained there, feeling one of the worst feelings, that one particular of when you reveal cruel secrets to weakened souls.

“I’m going to find an explanation Daesung. That’s what I am going to do!” Seunghyun shouted from the door, making some of the waitress behind the counter stare at him in surprise before the man defiantly stepped out of the Café.

Jiyong was confused. A few soft words spoken to him, caresses nicely given and an unexpected spiral of warmness had been enough to shatter his established determination. Something in his interior was lightened, and his eyes were arrested by multiple colors in his rather uncolored picture. It was a sudden tranquility, a disquieting stillness, as if his memories had surrendered or redeemed.

But what frightened him the most was the fact his tranquility had a name, had a face. If Jiyong wanted, he could paint every contour, every color of that pair of brown eyes that could see beyond him, or could ease the pain stubbornly buried inside his core. As an addiction, the warmness of those eyes crumbled and slipped through his resistance and reached to those thresholds, pulling their strings, redeeming his soul. Sometimes he believed, sometimes he even believed.

The city was darkened and sleepy while he drove through, only the streetlights' and the cars’ headlights brightened the outlines of the city and its buildings. They were weak, Jiyong appointed, not enough to bring back the light of a sunny day but they were indispensable to move through the night without stumbling onto walls. Light was indispensable to drive… and to live. Even the weakest when ignited during the darkest of the nights could save a life. Seunghyun was light. Jiyong knew it. He was supposed to bring pain, to torture him with his presence, reminding him what he had lost, what he had done; but he was light and now Jiyong wasnt sure anymore. Because now he trusted in him, and he could not think of a way of how he had ended up believing, trusting in the one who was supposed to be his torturer.

It was as if he, before being beheaded, had lifted his eyes and stared at the ones of his executioner and had seen humanity on them and tears. As if he had seen compassion and sadness behind those eyes and that sudden outburst of kindness had spawned new desires to cling on life, to reborn, to forget. Jiyong was confused.

After minutes of absently driving, he reached his neighborhood, his permanently silent neighborhood. He parked his car in front of the house but made no attempt to leave the car when he noticed Seunghyun wasn’t home; his car wasn’t parked at the other side of the street and Jiyong felt no rush of desire to step inside as he had felt the night before. Could it be that his soul now was like a magnet, longing and enticing the presence of the other man?

His eyes wandered lost for some time focusing on the facades of the houses. He had never met the ones who lived in them; never seen a face or shared a word. He kept scrutinizing the place. it was his first time paying such attention to something he had always bypassed. Then he saw it, when his eyes ran over the rearview mirror. A black car with his engines still running, lights turned off in attempt to become invisible, three houses at the distance. Jiyong froze on terror. He could feel the stare, the fixed stare of someone behind its darkened windows. It was happening again, all those frightening things he had run away six months ago… they were happening again.

He grabbed the car keys violently and opened the door feeling, his body stiff and all his muscles denying a reaction. He ran, literally ran, to the front door and did his best to open the house the fast as he could. His hands trembled as he missed the keyhole three times before managing to open it, and stepped inside the house then closed the door behind him with extreme force, locking the door and activating the alarm system. But even inside those walls he felt unsafe, his eyes kept looking stubbornly at the windows as if expecting someone to suddenly appear behind them. It was maddeningly distressing. He made his way to the library, one of the smallest places inside the house, which had a door that could be locked from the inside and hid there, breathing deeply once inside.

His legs buckled and he let his body fall over the floor, his knees folded in front of his chest, his arms surrounding his own shivering body. He waited, listening to any sound, to any sign of someone erupting inside the house. He waited for some time but nothing happened, the sound of his altered breathing was the only sound present inside the room. Until someone shook the door handle, first subtly but then growing in force. Jiyong widened his eyes and backed away, his back almost cleaving onto the wall. He closed his eyes, his heart hammering inside his chest.

“Jiyong?” a voice that Jiyong knew too well asked at the other side of the door, “Jiyong? Are you there? Are you ok?” Seunghyun pleaded for answers, with clear worry in his voice and Jiyong exhaled, relieved. “Jiyong! Let me in!”

Jiyong pulled his body off the floor and faintly walked towards the door and opened it. Seunghyun came inside the room. His brown gentle eyes reassured him as he fought against his urge to throw himself between the protective arms of the man in front of him.

“You are ghostly pale,” Seunghyun murmured and cupped Jiyong’s face with one of his hands. Jiyong unconsciously leaned against the touch as he spoke, “What’s wrong, Jiyong?”

Jiyong closed his eyes and a storm of feelings curled inside his chest. He felt safe, but he felt scared too. He tried hard to gather himself but the strength of his fears was too much for him. Some tears appeared at the corners of his eyes and he felt Seunghyun gasp, astounded, as he placed his hands over Jiyong’s shoulders.

“Hey! Calm down! What happened? What’s wrong, Jiyong?”

But before he could answer something, the sound of the phone ringing next to them made Jiyong jump and hide between Seunghyun’s arms, clenching his hands onto Seunghyun’s back. Seunghyun looked at the man now grabbing him with such desperation, dumbfounded, and averted his eyes towards the device at one of the shelves. The phone rang one, two times; at the third Seunghyun disentangled his arms from Jiyong’s body and answered the phone the fast as he could, before Jiyong could do something to stop him.

“Don’t!” Jiyong shouted at his back.

“Who’s this?” he barked but no one answered, he frowned. “Who’s this?” he asked again but only a jamming noise came from the other side of the line. Seunghyun frowned deeper and hung up the phone whilst he turned his face to where Jiyong was now, eyes lowered to the floor.

“Since when?” he asked. “Since when have you been receiving this calls?” Seunghyun demanded for answers, he knew what those calls were and did not like it in the least. “Jiyong…” he hissed.

Jiyong bit his lower lip and lifted his eyes. His legs moved nervously when he saw the aggressiveness hidden behind the gentle brown eyes of Seunghyun. “Since Seunghyun’s death,” he muttered.

“Have you said someone about this?” Seunghyun asked while one of his hands remained clenched around the device. “Who knows about this?”

“No one”

“Jiyong… Is someone trying to threaten you? Have they done something to you?”

Jiyong widened his eyes, amazed by how fast Seunghyun’s mind worked, by how easily he could see behind his words. And somehow he felt the frightening sensations vanish little by little inside his body.

“No. I don’t know,” Jiyong answered sincerely and ran a hand over his face. “It just, I, they just started calling and then they followed me and…” but Seunghyun’s exclamation interrupted him.

“Followed you? Who followed you?”

“I don’t know!” Jiyong shouted growing frustrated, “It’s a ing black car, ok? It was out there today!” he said pointing outside the door. “And I just freaked out.  It had happened before but I thought, I thought it was my imagination and that I needed some time, but I saw it again today and… I don’t know,” he babbled.

Seunghyun’s eyes softened and approached towards Jiyong. He saw how Jiyong’s body was shivering, how it was shrank in fear and he embraced him. And Jiyong made no attempt to free himself but cuddled between the supplanter’s arms.

“Is this why you ran away, Ji? Is this what you were trying to escape from?” Seunghyun asked the one between his arms, murmuring those things over his hair, inhaling the sweet fresh aroma coming from him.

“I-I thought I was just affected by Seunghyun’s death and I was seeing things. But then it all started and people looked at me with scorn and I lost… I-I lost trust in people. Everyone seemed threatening. I had to move away. You understand? I had to,” Jiyong quivered.

Seunghyun nodded calmly and ran a finger behind Jiyong’s neck.

“They were gone. I didn’t see the car out there when I arrived,” he said to ease Jiyong. “Was the car the same as the one back then?” he asked while he searched for Jiyong’s eyes.

Jiyong nodded with his head and finally unleashed himself from Seunghyun’s hold, blushing. “I’m scared,” he admitted and hid his face from the eyes of the supplanter.

“Hey! Look at me,” the supplanter begged and stretched one of his hands and took Jiyong’s chin with tenderness. “Look at me, Ji.”

Jiyong did what he was told, omitting the fact the man had called him “Ji”.

Seunghyun was looking at him intently and a cold shiver ran behind his back, “Don’t be scared. You listen to me… You have me, okay? We will find who is doing this. We will solve this. I’m not going to allow anyone to hurt you again. Okay?”

“We?” Jiyong blurted out, savoring the feeling of that word.

“Yes, we,” smiled Seunghyun and pulled back his hand and hid it under one of his pockets, “We are a team, right?”

And Jiyong without thinking twice smiled, as sincerely as the other man inside the room was smiling at him. Trustingly. 

“Right.”

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