Hong Joochan, Sepolto Pur Troppo
Hong Joochan, Sepolto Pur TroppoHis fingers hotly jumped across the strings. The bow glided smoothly as a swan across a glass lake. Hong Joochan went where the melody, where his violin took him. Variation upon variation, but which variation led to salvation which to damnation? Music is a question for which there is no answer.
The caprice was interrupted by ill-time clapping, and Joochan was brought up from the depths of his Tartarus, back into the realm of the living. He sighed and lowered the violin. Even after over a decade of listening to him play, the valet never learned how to wait until the end of the piece to applaud his master. But while the thunderous applause expressed contentment, the valet’s visage did not. His brows sagged with worry as did the corners of his mouth.
“Does my playing not please you today?” Joochan asked and set the instrument aside. Eight hours of practices were enough for the day. He felt a mark forming at the base of his white neck. Ah, a bruising kiss from his violin. If only it were something else that had left that mark, Joochan mused.
And while Joochan’s thoughts danced quickly about his head, he’d forgotten the question that he had asked the other. That was until the valet answered, “But of course, you play as marvelously as always. It’s just…” A pause for consideration. A servant must always carefully choose one’s words, especially in delicate situations. And nothing was as delicate as Joochan’s nerves recently. So the valet spoke as calmly as he was able, “I was just reminded of the rumors is all. They say that you sold your soul to the devil.”
Joochan let out a short laugh and asked the other, “You don’t really believe that, do you?” But his question was only met with silence, which cut through Joochan as deeply as the valet’s concerned glances. No, it could not be possible. Did the servant honestly think…Joochan turned away from the man and towards a mirror, but Joochan couldn’t bring himself to look at the reflection either.
“You’re like a father to me,” the young master started. “You’ve seen me grow up, watched me play. Do you think that I’d really do something like that?”
“I did think that way,” the valet replied. “But you’ve changed ever since the young sir…” The words clung to his throat, choked by his master’s nasty glare. The servant swallowed them and repeated, “You’ve changed.”
“How could I not?” Joochan murmured under his breath. His gaze wandered over to the violin resting on the table. Aside from the valet and…the violin was only thing in his life now, and it was surely his only source of consolation.
Hands took a hold on the young master’s shoulders. Joochan looked up to see the valet behind him in the mirror’s reflection. He also saw their sunken eyes and forced smiles. These times wore the both of them to the bone. “Give it time,” the valet spoke softly as his hands gripped at the coat and gingerly slipped it from the young master’s shoulders. “You’ll go back to the way you once were with time. Just be patient.” After he removed the coat and folded it over his arm, the valet stepped in front of the other and started to work on unraveling his tie.
Joochan lifted his chin in order to give the man room to work but also to prevent the tears welling in his dark eyes from falling. “Daeyeol, I don’t know if I can,” he admitted in a low whisper. He wanted to agree with the valet; he yearned desperately to believe that he could return back to ‘normal’ again. But after being under immense amounts of stress, deep within the workings of his being, Joochan cracked. And he wasn’t like a violin. He couldn’t be opened and glued back together. No, instead he was ruined forever, singing the melody of life out of tune.
“Be patient,” Daeyeol encouraged the young master. The tie was now hanging loosely about the neck, and the valet went to collect the other’s pajamas. “You’ll be smiling again soon,” he gave Joochan a warm and genuine smile.
“I hope so,” Joochan muttered, still not believing, but he took the pajamas from the other and dressed himself.
While he was doing that, Daeyeol was readying the room for the master’s sleep. “Tomorrow may be a difficult day,” the valet spoke up as he turned down the sheets. “Would you like me to accompany you?”
“I appreciate the offer, but…” Joochan paused as he pulled his head through the clothing. When he popped his head out, the valet was waiting patiently for his reply. “This is something that I must do alone.”
“That’s the Joochan that I know,” Daeyeol replied with a grin.
The valet left the room soon afterwards and shut the door behind him. Save for the shaky light from a candle, the large bedroom was in darkness. But this darkness Joochan had become very familiar with as of late. He was beginning to find comfort in it, like a smothering embrace, like the covers that he was pulling over himself as he crawled into bed.
After he settled, Joochan noticed among the several shadows flickering in the weak candlelight, the corner of his room was suspiciously dark.
“Go away,” he hissed at the dark phantom and blew the candle out.
Hong Joochan was a bachelor, and like many rich and talented bachelors, there was a want for him to be married. And in fact he had moved away from his family home into the city with not only the intent to pursue a career in music but also to find love. Indeed, among the exciting society of the city, Hong Joochan did find love, and he was betrothed to a charming woman named Song Areum. She was the cousin of the ornery oboe player in the orchestra. After running into her at a few gatherings, they began their courtship. And news of it spread beyond their social circles to the common people. Hong Joochan, after all, had made a name for himself as a virtuoso. There was a great speculation over what fortunate woman would be able to hold his hallowed hands. Song Areum had been a lucky but deserving girl.
That was until she let those hands go and took hold of another’s. And it was none other than the hands of Joochan’s close friend, Kim Donghyun, a man that he had known since birth, whom Joochan followed into the city.
Joochan was not sure if ‘betrayal’ was an apt enough word to describe how he was feeling, but he was definitely heartbroken.
And the streets were full of whispers of the violinist aching for his lost fiancée.
Ever since then, Joochan had poured forth his entire spirit into his craft. And instead of praising him for turning his pain into art, there were rumors that he had given his shattered soul to the devil.
There is always a shred of truth to rumors, and only Hong Joochan knew the truth.
If he was as soulless as the rumors claimed him to be, would he be at the steps of Donghyun’s home for afternoon tea? Would he greet the newly formed couple with such a warm smile and praise them? Perhaps. A man without a soul would be able to endure such things without a care.
However, Joochan could not.
He had to excuse himself from the table shortly after Areum announced that she had never been happier in her life, and Donghyun added with a reddening face and small voice, “Me too.”
Happy? That was a foreign emotion to him now, and the smiling couple in front of him seemed like strangers who were ignorant of the pain that they were afflicting on their guest. Every gleeful giggle pierced his ears. Every shy touch exchanged between them set him on fire. Everything was all too much for him to endure.
Especially the fact that Joochan was reminded once again his love would not be returned.
And so he left and hurried down the street only to barge into his home, throw his strangling dress coat on the floor, and lay himself down in the entryway. He lacked the strength to make it into the closest room. He fell apart right at the door.
“Why? Why did it have to end up like this?” Joochan lamented with his face smushed against the hardwood. He then rolled onto his back and cried out, “WHY?!”
“You called for me?”
Joochan’s eyes had been closed but he knew very well who was there. His voice was the seductive whispers of the night, and he smelled of the dark abyss. Joochan’s eyes fluttered open, and sure enough the man in a long, red overcoat and sleek black hair was looming over him like a predator over his prey. Joochan let out a heavy sigh as he sat up and wiped his tear-stained face. He’d been in the company of this man long enough not to fear him. His heart no longer clenched in fear when the man in red crouched down next to him, all too close, baring his sharp teeth in a maniacal smile.
“I did not,” Joochan muttered through a pout. “That’s not who you are.”
The man scoffed. “But it was what you called me when I first came to you,” he reminded Joochan. “Y. Y? Y?!” He mimicked Joochan’s heart-wrenching cries from nights prior.
“I said, ‘why?’” Joochan corrected him once more. “I just said it in English.” He had already told the man once, and he would probably have to tell him again. Y, as the man called himself, loved to tease and rile people up. Joochan, however, had gotten used to the man’s habits along with his presence. The musician stood up and walked into the drawing room while still addressing the other, “You were an Englishman back then, but I see that you’ve changed your appearance since.” He turned back to face Y, whose eyes had become thinner and sharper, whose nose and jaw were more akin too Joochan’s own than they were before. But there was no mistaking that he was, Y, the ‘man in red’ who came to Joochan at his greatest moment of weakness and offered him the strength and solace he lacked. But like everything else in life, it came at a price.
“Well, I have to blend in,” Y replied. He had followed the other and was now leaning against the wall. Somehow he had retrieved an apple from a bowl at the other side of the room, even though Joochan never saw the man go past him, and he was tossing it in his hands as he continued, “How was the visit? I would’ve accompanied you if you only asked.”
“Being with the two of them was already like Hell,” Joochan grumbled as he fell onto the couch. He laid down in such a way that he could still see the other and gave him a tired grin. “I didn’t need you there to actually turn it into one.”
Y caught the apple and gripped it tightly. “Aren’t you the clever one?” He remarked with a toothy grin. Joochan thought he was too, and pride chased away a bit of the sadness burdening his chest. Y cocked his head and lifted himself from the wall.“Well, since I am here, you might as well make some use of me. What would you like me to do?” he asked as he strode towards the couch.
Joochan’s gaze tracked his slithering movements carefully. When their eyes locked, his mind soon filled with whispers, hissing black suggestions and even blacker desires. Joochan quickly closed his eyes and shook his head until the whispers fell silent. When he opened them again, Y was hanging over the arm of the couch, eating the apple. A picture of (feigned) innocence.
“Do you know how to play baduk?” Joochan asked, propping himself up.
Y tilted his head at the unusual request, but he broke out into his usual grin. “I do.”
“Daeyeol,” Joochan called out to the valet who had just picked up his master’s discarded coat from the entryway. Daeyeol folded the coat over his arm and walked up to the room, awaiting his command. “Bring me the baduk set.”
Daeyeol’s eyes quickly flickered from Joochan to behind the couch, where the man in red was. Y chuckled and waved at the valet. Daeyeol could never hide his emotions well. He swallowed hard and dropped his eyes down to the floor. “Right away,” he mumbled before leaving.
There was very good reason to fear Y. Everyone should. But Joochan no longer did.
What was more fearful to Joochan was the letter that arrived from Donghyun the following day. Was it another request for tea? Could it be arrangements for a hunting trip? Joochan’s heart was in his throat as he opened the letter. And what he read was far worse than he could imagine.
Donghyun announced his engagement to Areum.
Hong Joochan was a fool. He had known this to be true all of his life. His foolishness was the reason why he was in this precarious situation. It hadn’t been a regular tea party that day. Areum had invited Joochan so that they could announce the engagement to him first before it became public knowledge. But the fool couldn’t keep his feelings in check and left before his dear friends could break the news to him. They had tried to be considerate.
Yet Joochan’s foolishness thwarted it and maintained a great hope in his heart that the engagement could be broke as quickly as it was made, and he would be reunited with his love once more. This time, he wouldn’t let h…
“Hong Joochan!” The conductor shouted his name and rapped against the music stand. “Wake up!”
“Yes, sir!” Joochan barked back and sat up straight.
Hong Joochan was a fool in all aspects of his life except one: music. In that realm, he was a master and author. No, he was a god, creating complicated melodies with quick flicks of his wrists and dances of his fingers. It was the only thing that came easily to him.
And that sort of genius draws ire and envy. At the collision of those two emotion, stood Sa Lieri, who had been the soloist for the orchestra before the young violinist came. The piece was ripped from his hands once again, by Hong Joochan who managed to play the piece with perfect artistry even in this languid state.
There was no way humanly possible that Sa Lieri could ever best him.
The only way now that he could win solos once again was if Joochan conceded, which he tried to do. “I’ve played this piece a dozen of times. It might be fun to play the accompaniment for once,” Joochan explained then offered. “Do you want the solo part?”
“Don’t look down on me!” Sa Lieri spat.
Stunned and wide eye, the younger shook his head. “I’m not,” Joochan insisted.
“That’s a bloody lie,” Sa Lieri hissed. He leaned in close and whispered hotly into Joochan’s ear. “I know the truth. To play like that, I know you sold your soul to the devil.”
Joochan lightly pushed the man away and wiped his ear against his shoulder. “Don’t believe everything that you hear,” he grumbled. “Be more concerned about your music than idle gossip.” He put an end to the conversation and left. There was no point in trying to talk to Sa Lieri. No matter what Joochan said to the man, it would always be twisted and distorted.
“People think that I sold my soul so that I could play like this,” the violinist remarked casually as his hand moved quickly on the fingerboard. He was in the drawing room, practicing in front of Y who was laying down on the couch with his eyes closed. Even beings like Y needed to rest from time to time, Joochan supposed.
“Disappointing, isn’t it? No one appreciates hard work anymore,” Y grumbled as he settled into the couch. “It’s either a gift from a god or…”
“You?” Joochan supplied. At that Y’s eyes fluttered open and he gave the other a wicked grin. However, the musician sighed and muttered. “Why couldn’t they say that I have been blessed by an angel instead?” He stopped playing to tune a string. “Why is my playing so devilish to them?”
“Because you pour your soul into your music, and that’s how it sounds to them,” Y answered. Hurt by that reply, Joochan lowered his instrument and frowned at the other. Oddly, Y didn’t leave it at that and continued, “I wouldn’t call it devilish, but it’s not angelic either.”
“Then what is it?” Joochan prodded him, curious.
“Human,” that answer left the musician dissatisfied, and it showed on his face. Y sat up on the couch while clicking his tongue. “You humans, you always ALWAYS underestimate your worth, your power,” he remarked while wagging his finger at the other.
“Power?” Joochan repeated with a snide laugh. “What power?”
“That’s what I mean,” the man in red sounded tired. He stood up and strode over to the musician. He slung his arm around Joochan and drew the violinist in. Y’s lips brushed against his ear as he whispered, “You take what you have for granted and lust after what you don’t have.” As his hot breath hit the other’s ear, Y’s fingers snuck underneath Joochan’s collar, like the young man didn’t feel suffocated enough. Now he could barely swallow when he turned slightly to face Y. The man in red sniggered, drug his hand from the collar, and patted the musician’s pink cheek. “I envy you,” he let out along with a sigh; he then settled down onto the couch again.
“Well,” Joochan muttered. His head was hanging low, his eyes to the floor. “I envy you.” He raised his head again only to see Y looking at him, completely stunned. “You can have whatever you want,” he explained.
Y’s face flickered between emotions until he settled on laughter, roaring laughter. “Hong Joochan is a fool!” He howled as he gripped at his sides and rolled off the couch.
“Y!” Joochan shouted and ran towards the couch. “Are you okay?” But when he got there, the floor laid bare.
“See, that care, that concern.”
Joochan spun around and almost ran into Y who was mere centimeters away. “Devotion, respect, anxiety, fear, love,” the man in red rambled on. “Every single emotion, you can wholly feel and choose to feel…”
“I don’t think there’s much choice in the matter,” Joochan argued. “Especially with love.”
In reply, Y gave a tight-lipped smile and hummed smugly before saying, “Fool, that’s because you don’t know what it’s like to be without free will.”
“What do you mean?”
“Angels don’t have free will, and demons only have it if they take it,” Y explained. “Why do you think I spend my time collecting as many souls as I can? It’s a tiresome existence.”
“Are you trying to become human?” The question leapt from Joochan’s lips without any consideration. Perhaps that was why it took the demon by surprise.
“I can’t.” Was Y actually sad? Joochan couldn’t tell for sure because he had turned for a second when his front door creaked open and Daeyeol walked in with a basket of groceries. When Joochan went to look back at Y, he was already gone.
“You take what you have for granted and lust after what you don’t have.”
Joochan could still hear that phrase being hissed through his ear. It burned. Even now, while he was eating dinner, Joochan couldn’t help but to wipe his ear against his shoulder over and over again.
“Is something bothering you?” Daeyeol asked as he refilled Joochan’s glass.
“Ah, no,” the young man muttered through his food-filled cheeks. “It’s nothing.”
Daeyeol was someone that Joochan definitely took for granted. The valet was always at his side, yet it wasn’t enough for him. Daeyeol’s constant care and affection could sate Joochan’s appetite. He wanted more. No, he lusted for more, Y would say. But the demon was wrong. He had to be wrong.
Maybe Joochan was too much of a fool to fully understand what Y went on about, but Joochan had to wholly disagree. Y wasn’t human. What did he know of human emotions? What did he know about love?
Well, Joochan hoped that the demon knew something about love. After all, he had sold his soul for it.
“If you want love,” Y brought up the following day. “You’re going to have to let me get close to that person.” He was sitting on the bed while the violinist dressed himself.
Joochan grumbled underneath his breath. He had not thought his request thoroughly enough. The contract was made in a rushed and impassioned moment, which now resulted int this conundrum: Joochan was damned, but he wanted to keep his beloved as far away from the devil as he could. However the deal would never come into fruition if the devil was kept away, and that would mean Joochan sold his soul for nothing.
It made his head hurt to think of a solution, so he put it out of his mind. He’d ponder on it again tomorrow or the day after.
“Soon,” Joochan tried to delay it once more. “I’ll let you do it soon.”
“Alright, soon,” the violinist did not like how Y had said that, and he could see the man in red grin wickedly in the mirror’s reflection.
“What?”
The doorbell rang, and Joochan froze. His hands were still clutching at the collar he had been straightening. He only thawed when there was a rapt at his bedroom door. “Joochan, you have a visitor,” Daeyeol’s soft voice echoed.
“You–” Joochan shouted as he spun around towards the bed, but the words left him as Y had. The violinist was alone in the room.
That was until Daeyeol had pried the door slightly and poked his head into the room. “Should I say that you are busy?” The valet asked.
“No,” Joochan replied and reached for his coat. “I’ll go downstairs.”
It was time for Y to complete his end of the bargain and for Joochan to receive his love.
For months, all the violinist could hear was about how heartbroken he was for Areum, how she stole away his heart and brought him to this lifeless state. However, it was not the lovely Song Areum that Joochan yearned for so desperately. It was the man at the foot of the staircase, who was abusing the violinist with his words as soon as he caught sight of him.
“Why won’t you reply to my letters?” Kim Donghyun nagged.
Joochan tried to maintain equanimity. “Did they need a response? I was not aware.”
“Yes,” Donghyun was always quick with a reply. “Especially when one announces one’s engagement! Will you not congratulate me?”
“Congratulations,” Joochan’s voice was as still as his heart (so not at all).
“Joochan,” the musician’s pulse skipped at the sound of his name spoken so softly. Even after all of these years, he still was not accustomed to this man’s gentle side. “Does it bother you? The engagement?”
Very much so, but Joochan shook his head. “No, I am happy for you, truly,” he spoke and led the other into the drawing room. “What is there to be bothered about? After all, Areum’s and my engagement was a rouse to stop her from being married off to that old widower.”
“That disgusting man,” Donghyun practically spat as he sat down in a chair.
“Completely vile,” Joochan agreed with a half-smile. He then drew up a chair and sat it next to his friend’s. “If I seem disgruntled, it is out of envy. I wish I could make you a dash as happy as Areum does,” the fool spoke too honestly.
The honesty was rewarded. Donghyun’s hand clutched at the other’s knee, and his expression morphed with each passing moment. “It would make me happy,” there was a pause that nearly killed the violinist and his patience. “If you never disappeared from me again.”
A gentleness softer than the summer night’s breeze and a touch as fleeting as time. Joochan wanted to bottle this moment and keep it forever. In theory, he would have several bottles like this one in his shelves, several times when he thought Donghyun felt the same way as he, all of which set his heart aflame with a burning hope that kept this love ignited for eleven years.
But then it all shattered, when Joochan noticed the pale knuckle Donghyun’s cheek, playing with his new prey. A gasp leapt from the man’s mouth as his gaze darted up towards the demon’s, who then glanced up from Donghyun and at Joochan. “Now,” Y mouthed.
Joochan swallowed and looked back at his friend, who was dazed and leaning into the demon’s touch. “No!” Joochan helped and covered his friend from the fiend, batting the sinister hand away and enveloping Donghyun in a tight hug. “No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?” The nagging voice was music to his ears.There was a stiff-handed pat on the violinist’s back. “Are you going to disappear again?”
“No, I mean,” Joochan mumbled and pulled back with a sniff. He knelt at the other’s feet and folded his arms over the lap, resting his head there. “I mean, I will never disappear again. I will always be here.”
“Hopefully not right here,” Donghyun joked and nudged the other off after patting his head a few times. Joochan laughed more out of politeness than mirth, and his friend knew it. “Are you sure that you’re alright?”
“I will be,” Joochan lied, and before Donghyun could catch him on it, the valet came into the room.
“Should I set another place for breakfast?” He asked.
Joochan sighed dramatically. “Something tells me that you already did.”
“It’s nice to see the young sirs have made amends,” Daeyeol left them with that.
“We weren’t fighting!” Joochan shouted after him. He then turned to Donghyun, wide-eyed. “We weren’t!”
Donghyun stood up and followed the valet. “We weren’t talking either.”
Joochan was alone again, still kneeling in front of the chair. Why? Why did Donghyun sound almost forlorn then? Was it because of Y?
Did Y’s dark magic seep into Donghyun’s mind or in the time that Joochan was away, did something awaken within Donghyun? Was just Joochan more sensitive to his friend’s subtle expressions or tone? Everything Donghyun did that morning appeared suspicious. Every movement betrayed him. None more so than when Donghyun lingered in the doorway and jerkily turned about to face Joochan, with no words to offer, with nothing but a darting gaze. It was so unlike Donghyun, and the man was aware of it. He looked afraid.
Yes, Joochan was aware of this fear. He had felt this way for years while he was still residing in his parents’ home, and it hadn’t left him until he followed Donghyun into the city, when he finally embraced it.
“I will visit, Donghyun, soon,” Joochan promised and hugged him.
Donghyun returned the embrace. “I’ll hold you to that,” he remarked and then left.
When the door closed, Y appeared at his side. “Why didn’t you make your move? He was waiting for it,” the demon chided the foolish human.
But Joochan believed that for once, he was being wise. “The timing wasn’t right,” he muttered under his breath and left to prepare for practice.
After all it would be best to wait until Donghyun had gotten used to the discomfort of an illicit love.
The following days were spent either with the orchestra or in Donghyun’s company. Of course, Areum was there too more often than not. But more and more, she was a spectator of the two men’s play-fighting and joking. She laughed and clapped, none the wiser.
Yes, any day now, Joochan was certain that the timing would be right and Donghyun would be his. Areum might never forgive them, but that was the least of Joochan’s worries. He had put his whole soul on the line for Donghyun, and she gave him nothing more than her hand.
Yet days always give way to nights, and in the darkness Joochan’s ally lurked. The musician supposed that he shouldn’t find the demon’s presence so comforting, so enjoyable. But Y’s power laid in seduction, correct? Perhaps Joochan was just coaxed into enjoying it. Perhaps he was even addicted to it.
In any case, he found himself now doing what he did most nights, drinking in his bedroom with the devil as company. This evening, the glasses were a bit fuller, and Joochan’s mood was higher. His speech was slurred when told the other, “It’s unfair. You can read my heart, my desires, but I know nothing about you.” Whisky spilled out of his glass when he used it to knock into Y’s arm. “Yah. What’s your name?”
“I have more names than you have bones in your body,” no matter how much Y drank, he always spoke soundly.
“So you have…” Joochan’s voice drifted off as his brows furrowed in thought.
“A lot,” Y relieved his companion from reckoning. “Everyone calls me something different. Everyone wants something different from me. Some call me Balaam. Others T’an-mo. Before you, I was Emnet.” He then took a long drink from his glass before setting it back down, twirling the crystal in his hand. He smirked. “A friend of yours calls me Mephistopheles. What a mouthful! I’d prefer to have a single letter as a name over a sea of them.”
“Friend?” Joochan picked out. He knocked over his glass in excitement. The caramel liquid stained him, but his clothes might as well be as sopping wet as his mind.“Who is that?”
Y must have received what he desired. He grinned and leaned in closer. “I am contractually obligated not to say,” and he had successfully baited the human. Joochan should’ve known better to trust the devil at this point, but when did he ever?
Not wanting to give Y the pleasure of his dissatisfaction, Joochan replied, “There’s some comfort in knowing that I’m not the only soulless bastard walking around society.”
Y nodded. “There’s many more than you think.” He then told the musician about his contracts from years gone by, about legendary men and those forgotten due to the passage of time. Joochan would be too drunk to recall these the following day. And even if he could perfectly recount these dark tales, no one would believe him. However, it did not matter. It was a fantastic pleasure for only this night, these stories of men like him, Y’s laughter in his ears, his cool touch on his skin. Joochan fell asleep right at that table with a smile on his face.
However, the valet could not smile at the sight of his master’s face in a puddle of sticky whisky and the empty bottle on the floor. Daeyeol did his best to clean Joochan up and carried him to the bed. A long sigh fell from his lips as he pulled the covers over Joochan’s slumbering form.
“What am I to do with you?”
What was Joochan to do? The date of the wedding was quickly approaching, yet it still seemed all too soon for Joochan to confess. He hoped with all of his might that he wouldn’t be forced to rip his friend away from the altar, but he didn’t want to rush Donghyun either. Oh what could he do to make Donghyun realize that they were made for each other?
Joochan had forgotten that it wasn’t his job to drive Donghyun to that epiphany. A flash of red in the background reminded him of that. Nervously, Joochan’s gaze drifted back to his friend. They were playing cards in Donghyun’s parlor, just the two of them, yet it was incredibly stuffy. From the very start, this meeting had a tense atmosphere. Joochan swallowed hard. Was now the time?
“Do you think that I should get married?” Donghyun finally gave voice to the question that Joochan was dying to hear.
“No,” Joochan spoke, barely above a whisper. “No, don’t get married.”
“Then what should I do?”
“I think…” Joochan started, but his voice died, along with his hope, when he met with Donghyun’s eyes. Black and lifeless, like cloudy night, that gaze killed Joochan.
“What should I do, Joochan?” The musician never wanted to hear his name spoken like that again, so flat, so unhuman.
Was this the love that he was promised? This wasn’t love. It was bewitchment.
A few moments later, Joochan was face down in his entryway again, listless. Daeyeol had gathered his tossed coat and boots and went to put them away. He supposed that the valet would return soon with a cup of tea and a promise that tomorrow was another day.
But Hong Joochan had no more tomorrows. He had sold his soul for a ‘love’ that he did not want. His life was over, and by the sound of the slammed door (since when had he ever used a door) and the booming voice, the devil himself came to drag him into Hell.
“Do I look like a charity to you?”
Joochan was forcefully flipped onto his back. His arms were pinned against the ground above his head. In all of their time together, Y had never been this upset, the angry. But now his long hair and coattails danced in the winds of his fury. “Why won’t you let me follow through with my end of the deal? We are so close. All you have to do is reach out and take him! He’s yours! Is your soul worth so little to you?” His shouts echoed throughout the high halls.
This time, Joochan was the stoic one. How could he not be? His soul was about to be ripped away from his body. “I was always meant to be damned,” he replied. “If it weren’t for my deal with you then for my love. It’s a mortal sin.” Or at least he had been taught that all of his life by priest, by his parents. Joochan lost the fight to remain stoic as tears streamed down his face. He tried to damn Donghyun along with himself. How could he?
“What are you talking about?” Y’s voice returned to its usual state. “Your love is just fine. If anything, your love is too good for that man.”
“What?”
“You humans know so little and misunderstand so much.” Y was now leaning against the windowsill, staring out onto the street. He had moved the both of them into the next room without Joochan noticing for a good moment or two. He was just sitting down in his chair, trying to make sense of what the demon just said.
“You mean,” the musician drawled out as his thoughts collected. “I’m just fine?”
“As fine as any man who made a deal with the devil,” Y joked.
“Ah, right, I mean before then,” Joochan reiterated. “My love for Donghyun was normal? It wasn’t a sin?”
“No, of course not,” the demon answered finally looking at the human out of the corner of his eye.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” a moment later, Joochan broke out into a roaring laugh at how true that statement was. He was laughing so hard that his ribs ached and his thigh was sore from clapping it. But what else could he do? He had signed his soul over to Y thinking that he was damned in any case only to find out now that God didn’t care one bit for his homouality. What irony! He really had thought that his soul was worth so little.
For once, Y would not laugh along with the human. He just sat at the windowsill, watching the other crumple into a mess. Indeed, the emotions of a human were an enigma to the demon. Y would never be able to understand why Joochan was laughing or why he came to the conclusion that he did.
“In any case,” Joochan began when he regained his breath. “I am glad to have met you. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this time without you.” And without Y, Joochan would’ve never learned that Donghyun could not love him the same way he did.
Y’s arms tightened across his chest. “You should hate me,” he reminded the other.
“But I don’t,” Joochan shot back with a chuckle.
Y looked away. “You’re a fool.”
“I know.”
At that, Y’s head snapped back towards Joochan. His eyes were as red as his coat and they were shining. “You should hate me,” he repeated. “A day will come when you’ll hate me with all of your being.”
Before Joochan could ask when that day was, Y disappeared.
For the next following days, Joochan was truly alone, save for his valet. He could not stomach meeting with Donghyun for awhile, and Y was probably busy drawing up more contracts. Indeed it was curious that the demon could pass so much time with Joochan if he was supposed to be tormenting all of mankind, but the musician supposed that time worked differently for them. After all, as Y said, Joochan was human, and humans knew very little.
In any case, Joochan had a good excuse to keep himself holed up in his apartment. He was composing a new piece for the orchestra. And if Daeyeol’s overwhelming praise had just a strand of truth in it, then this was his magnum opus.
The conductor thought so too and wanted to include it within their repertoire. He hadn’t even heard the piece yet, but he still declared it a brilliant work of art. The other musicians fell in line and agreed, all except for one.
“Who was the muse this time?” Sa Lieri sneered when Joochan took his seat beside him. He took Joochan’s hesitation of confirmation of his suspicions. Sa Lieri leaned in closer and hissed, “Whose hand wrote that score?”
The reason why Joochan had hesitated was because Y had hummed a bit of the melody days prior. He himself added to it and completed the piece. But Joochan shouldn’t feed the rumors and admit that the devil inspired this piece. Instead, he’d let the piece speak for itself.
“There’s only one hand that can play it,” he retorted. At the conductor’s command, Joochan rose and played the piece for everyone to hear. Unfortunately, Joochan could not revel in everyone’s (Sa Lieri’s) immediate reactions. He had to focus on completing the fast scales and arpeggios, left hand pizzicato, double stops, and quick string crossings. He had played the piece well enough to know it, but he still needed to work on his expression. However, that was enough to leave his fellow musicians stunned. Complete silence followed his performance. A beat later, they all moved to clap, including Sa Lieri who did so begrudgingly.
“That should be proof enough of authorship, wouldn’t you say?” Joochan muttered through gritted teeth as he was smiling at the others and taking his seat beside Sa Lieri.
All the man had to say in return was: “Give me a copy of that score.”
A compliment, why did Joochan expect that man to actually say something nice to him for once? He should’ve known better, but once again Hong Joochan was a fool and lusted after what he could not have.
“What is with that man?” Joochan suddenly shouted. It had been hours since the practice, and he was now alone in his bedroom, trying to rest. However, his agitated heart would not let him. While lying in his bed, he kicked his feet into the air. “Why can’t he just be nice for once? Why?”
“He hates you, very much so. It’s consuming him.”
Joochan bolted upright. Y was sitting in his usual chair in the corner, as if that chair hadn’t been vacant for nights upon nights. “What do you know of it?” Joochan made his irritation known with his curt tone.
“I’m very familiar with hatred,” Y spoke with his eyes closed and head tossed back. He then lowered his dark crown and looked at Joochan. “I’m the inventor of it.” It sounded like a warning.
Joochan scrambled out of the bed and onto his feet. “What about love? Do you know it?” He challenged.
The demon had been in the middle of pouring himself a drink, but he had stopped to glance over at the other. “Why do you ask?” The glass went straight to his lips when the question had left it.
“Have you forgotten our contract? You were supposed to make Donghyun return my love for him,” Joochan reminded him.
Y sighed. “Didn’t I? You just won’t accept it,” he responded and took another sip from the glass.
Or he had tried to, but Joochan had knocked the glass out of his hand when he had thrown a pillow at Y. “That’s not love!” The musician bellowed. The image of puppet-like Donghyun entered his mind’s eye again. And he hated it. He hated seeing his friend like that, acting without any will. “That was…lust,” Joochan struggled to find the right word and that was all his mangled mind could offer. Even though he struggled to express himself, he could easily hurl a few more pillows at the man in red. “I…don’t…want…it!”
Y however was unfazed. He waited until Joochan ran out of pillows to throw before pouring himself another glass of the amber liquor. “Not everyone has love like you do, Joochan,” he told the other. “Most don’t have the ability to.”
“What do you mean?” Joochan was tired of these riddles coming from this man’s honeyed tongue. He stomped over to Y. “Tell me!” He barked. Y did set his glass down, but he did nothing more than stare at the other. And if really wanted a good look at the musician, Joochan was going to help him out. His hands gripped at the demon’s collar and he lifted Y up onto his feet. “You don’t know! You told me before that demons don’t know!” Joochan spat while shaking the other. “You don’t know love!”
Y didn’t fight back. He wouldn’t even look at the human. “I wouldn’t say that.”
Then there was a knock at the door, followed by a timid voice, “Joochan?”
“What is it?!” Joochan shouted at his valet, but then he reminded himself to let go of Y and also his anger. Daeyeol, out of everyone, didn’t deserve this venom. So when the door opened and the valet entered, Joochan greeted him with a smile. “What is it, Daeyeol? Did somebody call for me? Donghyun?” Behind him, the musician could hear a heavy sigh emit from Y and a loud creak, meaning that the devil had slunk back down into his chair.
“No, it’s just that…” Daeyeol couldn’t continue. His voice shook until it finally fell apart. His trembling hands wrung against each other. Daeyeol was terrified. Did he know who Y was?
No, it was worse than that. “You’re talking to yourself more and more these days,” Daeyeol found his voice again. “It’s concerning.” He walked up to his master and took his hand. “Should I call for a doctor?”
“But I’m not alone,” Joochan stated. He nodded over to the man sitting in the dark corner. “Do you not see him?” Y himself even leaned forward, into the light, and waved at the valet.
Daeyeol’s eyes did flicker over to the chair, and when they fell back onto his master, tears fell from them. The valet was absolutely terrified. “I’ll go and make you some tea and send for the doctor in the morning,” the grip on Joochan’s hand was stronger than his voice, and after giving the small hand one final squeeze, Daeyeol left the room.
And all of the strength left Joochan’s legs. His knees collided onto the floor with the thud and his heart along with them. “He doesn’t see you?” The musician whispered the question, too afraid to ask. Out of the corner of his eyes, Joochan saw Y nod. “For how long?! Could he never see you?!” he cried. His chest was heaving, and he could not wipe away the tears quickly enough to see the devil cackling at him. But, oh, he could hear it. “Do you even exist? Am I going insane?” Joochan sobbed and then covered his ears. “Why are you laughing? Stop laughing!”
Cool hands gently removed Joochan’s hands and lowered them. After furiously blinking away his tears, Joochan could just make out that the demon was crouching down in front of him. Should he back away? Should he ignore this phantom and try to ground himself in reality again? Joochan lifted his hands to cover his ears again, but Y captured them before he could and held onto them tightly.
“I’m real,” Y insisted. “As real as all of those dark fantasies inside of your heart.”
Joochan sniveled and whimpered. None of this made sense, and being the devil, Y wouldn’t shed any light. The musician was kept in the darkness, and so he embraced it and closed his eyes. “That doesn’t answer my question though,” Joochan muttered. He turned his hands and drew the other’s hands in, pressing them against his cheeks. This cool touch, it was so comforting because it was so familiar. It felt real “But I can touch you. Feel you.” One couldn’t hold a hallucination, correct? One could see and hear a hallucination but to hold one was impossible, wasn’t it? “How could you not be real? Hm?” He asked the other, but he was met with only silence. Odd. Y was still there, Joochan knew it. He pressed the hands more firmly to his face. Y was there! “Say something!”
“Hong Joochan…is a fool.”
The musician let out a resigned laugh. “Why couldn’t I have a nice delusion?”
“Joo–”
“Joochan, what are you doing on the floor?” Daeyeol had come into the room. The valet quickly set the tea tray down and squatted next to his master, right where Y just had been.
Joochan searched the room for any sign of his delusion, but there were none to be found. He must’ve finally awaken to reality. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, hanging his head, which felt all to heavy right now. His whole body did.
Luckily, Daeyeol was there to help him. “Come, let’s get you into bed.”
That night, the valet did not leave Joochan’s side for a moment. He held the musician’s precious hand while he slept. It was warm and slightly clammy, but it was real too.
It was real too, right?
The doctor said none of it was real either. His mind had fractured due to shock and exhaustion. The doctor proscribed Joochan rest, along with a calming drug, which led him to practically be bed-bound. And so rest Joochan did. There was not more he could do with the drowsiness and the cloudiness swirling about his head. He couldn’t even play, let alone pick up the instrument with a steady hand. Daeyeol had to hide it from his master so that he would not longer be tempted.
At least Sa Lieri got the solo that he was coveting, although it was still only due to Joochan’s absence. Yet Sa Lieri did not seem to mind it. He sent over a box of expensive, imported sweets that Joochan let sit on his nightstand untouched. He hadn’t the taste for such sweetness recently. All he wanted was…that cool touch his cheek. Joochan’s eyes fluttered open, and through the haze he was able to make out the red figure.
“You came back,” the musician rasped. He did his best to prop himself up but he nearly slipped back down as he did. But Y held him steady. Joochan let out a weak laugh. “I can barely see straight, but I can see you so clearly. How is that?”
“Because you want to,” Y answered, bringing the other’s back to rest against the headboard before letting go.
Joochan tilted his head. “Is it really just that simple?”
“Yes.”
“Hm,” the musician hummed. Had he wanted to see Y that badly? Was his desire to dream so strong that the drug hadn’t been able to take effect? Everything was hazy around the demon, who was the only thing that shone clear. It almost looked as if Y was surrounded by a halo, and Joochan had to laugh at that. Y quirked a curious brow, but this time Joochan was the one to dodge questions, even silent ones. Instead he asked, “What if I wanted more?”
“Do you wish to make another contract? You only have one soul,” the demon tried to make sense of the human’s wandering mind.
But how could he when Joochan didn’t even know where it was taking him.
“No,” Joochan replied with a shake of his head. He leaned closer to the other and dropped his voice, “What if I wanted more than just to see you? What if I wanted…this.” Joochan pressed his lips softly against Y’s and pulled away. “Can I have that?”
The demon gave no answer, or none quick enough for Joochan who hurriedly kissed Y again. This time it was longer, firmer. And Y’s lips were cool, still, like a marble statue. Was this the limit of his delusion? No, Joochan wouldn’t allow it. He kissed the man once more.
And Y finally kissed him back, ardently. The cool lips was matched with a hot tongue, and Joochan felt as if he’d been plunged into Hellfire when he was pinned down onto the bed. But he was cooled by the hands roaming over his body. He hissed.
“If I’m going insane, I might as well enjoy it,” Joochan explained even though the demon never asked him a question.
Y pulled away from the crook of his neck. “You aren’t insane,” he hushed. “I said it before. I am real as all of those dark fantasies inside of your heart.” Y’s white thumb was the human’s chest, right over his heart. Then the demon his lips before whispering, “I can see them now.” All the while, his other hand drug slowly up Joochan’s thigh.
The musician grabbed at the other’s chin. “Then fulfill them.”
That night was both heaven and hell. The demon was so used to snatching up whatever he was given that he took every ounce of Joochan’s affection, drained it out of him. In return, Joochan awoke the next morning with a sense of euphoria and guilt. He couldn’t even look Daeyeol in the eye the following day, yet there was a faint smile on his face.
Why? Why Y? What was this feeling lurking in the shadows of his heart? Love? Lust? Perhaps it was the latter. Joochan had sold his soul for love, and he was going to take it what he was promised.
Joochan refused to take the drug again. He planned to live out the rest of his life in this insanity/fantasy.
Whatever his life was, it was twisted. A few mornings later, he awoke with the demon in his bed, . This was new. Joochan was so used to Y disappearing at a moment’s notice that he never expected him to stay for once. Yet Y did, and he was . For some reason Joochan found that incredibly strange, especially since there was no red coat tossed about the room.
Joochan had been leaning over his bed, looking for the coat on the floor, when a hand took his shoulder. “Today is the day,” Y reminded him. “You don’t have to go. You don’t want to,”
The musician flopped back down onto the bed and glanced at the other. “I made a promise,” he spoke through a pout. And after a few more shy glances, Joochan to his side, towards Y and asked. “Could you come with me?” His hand slithered across the bedsheets, searching for…
There was a knock at the door. Daeyeol came, probably with a freshly pressed suit and some encouraging words to get him through the difficult day.
“I’ll be there,” Y whispered and pressed a kiss at the human’s temple. But when Joochan turned to see him, Y was already gone.
Today was Donghyun’s wedding day. He and Areum seemed to be in a rush to get married, but love had driven people to do crazier things. Joochan was proof of that. And it was because of love, Joochan agreed to play at the wedding, to herald in the bride’s march down the aisle, to strum a cheerful tune as the couple walked out of the chapel hand-in-hand. Hong Joochan stood alone at the altar as the church emptied out and cheered on the newlyweds. A single tear fell down his face. This was it. This was the death of his long-cherished love.
“No more.”
While Joochan had reached his limit, the wedding celebration still continued. There was a reception held nearby, and he planned on making a quick appearance. However, that plan was waylaid by the abundance of food. If Kim Donghyun had plotted to trap his friend at the reception, he successfully did so. Joochan was at a table with several plates piled high with food.
“You should at least save some cake for the bride and groom.”
Y finally came, and of course, the first thing to fall from his honeyed tongue was a teasing remark. Joochan had been anticipating the demon’s arrival all day and had wondered if he should’ve made Y sign another contract. It wasn’t until the ceremony was half-done and the priest made a disparaging remark against the devil, Joochan realized that Y couldn’t exactly stride in through the chapel doors. He hit himself with his bow for that.
Unfortunately, now Joochan couldn’t properly express his glee. “Be quiet,” he hissed through cake-crammed cheeks.
“Hm?” Y leaned in closer. “Say it again. I didn’t catch that.” When the human didn’t answer, the demon’s dark eyes flickered around. He smirked. “Oh right, we’re in public. It’s probably best that you don’t acknowledge me. Should I go?”
Joochan couldn’t speak, but he could still talk to the demon. He shook his head and placed a hand over Y’s arm. The demon understood and covered the hand with his own.
“I’ll stay.”
“Would you like to dance?”
Food wasn’t the only thing to be found at wedding receptions. There was dancing and faltering attempts at romance. In fact, Joochan had brought Daeyeol to the wedding too, hoping that the old man could have a chance at love too. The valet was already a part of the dancing circle, and Joochan had tried to stay out of it.
Yet in front of him was a pretty girl, hoping to have more than just a dance with the famed musician.
“Sure, I will dance with you,” was all he would promise as he got up from the table, letting the cold hand fall away from his. He replaced it with a small, warm one. It felt awkward to hold.
“Would your friend like to dance too?” The girl’s friend asked, hiding her flushed face behind a fan.
“Friend?” Joochan’s dance partner spat out along with a laugh.“Isn’t his friend the groom, silly girl?”
The other girl shook her head. “No, I meant the gentleman right beside him,” she defended herself and directed her folded fan towards the demon. However Y’s eyes were only on Joochan’s, and he shook his head.
Before Joochan could speak up, there was a thud against the table. A man who was seated next to Y stood up. “Alright, I am convinced,” the man announced in a brash voice. “I, Kim Jibeom, will dance with you,”
“Huh, I…I…okay,” the girl sputtered as Jibeom led her to the dance floor.
Joochan let out the breath he had been holding and then turned towards his partner. “Shall we?”
“Yes, we shall.”
Much to that girl’s dismay, Joochan had several dance partners that evening. After a few glasses of champagne, he took it as his mission ask all of those young women without partners to dance. That even included the flower girl. But it did not matter. Joochan was not searching for love this evening. He only was on the hunt for fun.
And he knew exactly where a great treasure laid.
“Come on,” he said as he took the cold hand once more into his. “Let’s go home, fantasy of mine.”
“I want to know what it’s like to dance with the devil,” Joochan murmured with his head hooked over the demon’s shoulder, arms tight around his waist. Somehow, the two ended up in Joochan’s bedroom. Odd, Joochan didn’t remember walking or taking a carriage. And yet here they were, bumping into his furniture, as Joochan tried to led the other to the melody that he was singing (out of tune).
Eventually Y took control, and they danced more smoothly, without bruising shins. “Just because he’s married, it doesn’t mean that it’s over between the two of you,” the demon sung into his ear. “You still have a contract with me.”
Of course, to the devil, vows made in the house of God would be worth so little. But to Joochan, they were priceless. “It is. It’s over.”
Y’s grip tightened. “You can’t terminate the contract. We had a deal.” The dance ceased and Joochan broke the hold.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Joochan told the other, looking up at him with heavily-lidded eyes. “If you want my soul, take it.” He then kissed Y, sating the thirst that he had built up over the long, dry day.
“When you do this,” Y spoke at the other was peppering kisses down his neck. “Are you with me? Or are you picturing him?”
“Does it matter?” Joochan grumbled against his skin. Instead of answering, he focused on undoing the buttons of the black shirt.
“Would you prefer me like this?”
All of the sudden, the shoulder dropped away from Joochan’s face. The shirt that he had been tugging at, now hung more loosely on the frame. And the smell of sweet must wafted through the air.
Joochan froze and refused to look up. He had known what Y had done, and he hated it. He hated it even more when the demon lifted Joochan’s head up by the chin, and the musician was confronted with the face of Kim Donghyun.
“Do you like this better, Joochannie?” the voice was Donghyun’s as well. The grip on the chin held firm as he brought the musician’s face closer, trying to kiss, but Joochan wriggled out of the demon’s grasp and shoved him away.
“Turn back,” Joochan begged. He felt for the other’s clothes and gathered it into his fists as he shook him. “Turn back now!”
“Okay, okay.”
Joochan hazard to open only one eye, and he blinked them both wide open when he saw Y with his usual wicked grin.“Better?” The demon asked. Joochan wouldn’t answer and only hugged the other. At that, Y chuckled weakly. “So it does matter.”
“Huh?” Joochan muttered as he played with the buttons again.
“You don’t like me, do you?”
Joochan’s throat was tight, but he still manage to squeeze his voice through, “Does it matter? Devil or a hallucination, you have no heart.”
“Is this just lust then?”
Joochan let the man go and leapt onto his bed, hiding his hot discomfort in the pillows. “It is…not…I don’t know,” his words were muffled and distorted, which was suiting. Joochan didn’t know what to make of them either. All he knew was this: “Can’t you just stay with me tonight?”
Y managed to hear that perfectly fine through the pillow barrier. “I’ll stay.”
But he couldn’t stay the entire night. There were far stronger and darker desires beckoning him. And it was his duty to fulfill them. Y could not sleep for a reason; there simply was not enough time to cater to them all. And so he envied the worn out human laying at his side. How could a human look so angelic in slumber? No, not just in slumber, but in his waking hours too.
A sigh fell from Y lips as his hand s across the human’s bare chest towards his shining heart. In all of his years of existence, Y never yearned to devour a soul so badly. None seemed as tempting as this, none shown so vibrantly even when purple threads of darkness threaded themselves through. A man so pure that he even loved the devil.
Y groaned as he pulled the hand away and rolled out of bed. “You’re wrong, Joochan,” he told the sleeping form. “I may not have my own free will, but I have my very own heart.” He walked over to the window and glared up at the full moon. “Why did you do this? What am I supposed to do?” Of course, there was no answer. He hadn’t answered to Y in hundreds of years. “Forget it,” the demon grumbled and disappeared into the night.
“Where have you been? I have been trying to summon you for days!”
Y rolled his eyes at the man, who was unaware of how insignificant he was. If it weren’t for the mortal’s copious amount of will, the demon would’ve never bother with him in the first place. “Since when were you my master, Sa Lieri?” He tried to put the musician in his place, subtly.
But Sa Lieri wasn’t a man of subtly. Even his night clothes were as showy as his suits. “Aren’t I?” Sa Lieri barked. “We have a contract, and you haven’t been keeping up your end of the bargain.”
“Patience.” Y then promised, “What you want will come soon enough.”
Was this an adverse reaction to the drug? Joochan had taken it again this morning. The previous day and night had left him frazzled and worn out, so he planned to sleep the day away. But this wasn’t the drowiness that he remembered from the first time. And if it was a calming drug than why was his heart hammering against his ribs?
Joochan gripped onto his nighstand, trying his best to hold himself up, but his hand slipped. He was sweating too much. It was too slick.
“D-Daeyeol!” he called for the valet through agonizing pants. “Come. Here. Quick.” His voiced died down and his body slunk down onto the floor.
He knocked over the half-eaten box of sweets with him.
Eventually, Daeyeol did come and put him back to bed. There was a damp cloth laid over his forehead, which was supposed to stave off the heat until the doctor came. It wasn’t working. A searing heat overtook his entire being, and every breath that he took was like trying to take in smoke. It burned his eyes to keep them open, and so they were shut tightly, as he tried to stay still and do nothing but to hold onto his dear life.
How had he tried to sell it for so cheaply? It meant everything to him now.
“Good night, Joochan.” A voice like the seductive whispers of the night, the smell of the dark abyss. “I’ll come to you when you awake.” A cool kiss pressed at his temple, and the chill overtook his body until it turned into ice.
Nothing, Joochan could not sense the cold nor was there any heat. There was just nothing. He opened his eyes to see his bedroom, just the same as he last saw it. Soon Daeyeol would come bursting through the doors with the doctor at his side and no patient to treat. Hong Joochan was cured.
Or so he thought. Even now, Hong Joochan was a fool. He didn’t realize just how much until he got out of his bed, stood up, and noticed the man in red in his usual chair in the corner. Joochan was about to greet him, but then he noticed the violin case in the demon’s tight embrace, scarcely hiding the tears streaming down his face.
If Joochan could still feel a chill run down his spin, it would have at that moment. Slowly he turned around and saw himself still laying in the bed, under the covers, greying skin and blank eyes that could not shut.
He couldn’t look at it anymore, at himself. His gaze dropped to the floor.
“Am I dead?”
“Yes,” Y admitted with a loud sniff.
“How?”
“Poison,” the demon revealed. “It was Sa Lieri. It was the sweets he gave you.”
“Oh.” Joochan lifted his head slightly and found the box of sweets in the trash can. Even in such distress, the valet still managed to tidy up the room, and Joochan was glad for it. Now Daeyeol wouldn’t eat them too.
“Sa Lieri was the one that you mentioned earlier, right? The other soulless bastard?” At least this question could finally be answered. After all, the contract was complete.
“Yes,” Y muttered. “He sold his soul so that he could become greater than you.”
“So,” Joochan drawled as he spun to face the other. “You killed me.”
Y adamantly shook his head. “No, he killed you.”
“You suggested it,” Joochan raised his voice. He knew how this worked! He knew what Y was capable of! But he did not know that the demon would go and do this.
“I gave him options, and this was what he went with,” Y spoke with that alluring calmness once again. He was trying to drag Joochan under its spell. “He hated you that much. And I warned you not to get close. I told you that you’d come to hate me one day, with all of your being.” But his words were met with silence. “Say something. Please,” Y begged.
Joochan couldn’t speak because he didn’t want to say it at the time, the words threatening to jump from his tongue. “I’m glad.” He was glad that Y wasn’t a figment of his imagination. He was glad that even in death, Y was real, perhaps even realer.
But the human wasn’t completely glad. How could he be? He was dead, murdered unexpectedly. His gladness was buried under mountains of other emotions piling up inside of him, which only grew taller when Daeyeol discovered his body.
Joochan had never heard a sound like that his entire life, but in death he knew it well. Daeyeol wailed for what felt like ages. It had reached a crescendo when the doctor pronounced him as dead.
Along with a calming drug, he recommended that Daeyeol call upon the police. It was evident that Joochan didn’t die of natural causes. And the wailing began again.
The valet not only summoned the police to the apartment, but Donghyun as well, who brought Areum along with him. Yet he alone climbed up the stairs into Joochan’s bedroom. He was careful not to disturb the scene and silently wept at the bedside until Areum called for him. Before he left his friend for the last time, Donghyun kissed Joochan’s grey cheek.
“He did love you,” Y spoke up again for the first time in hours, when the man left the room. “All you had to do was take him.” Joochan shot a glare at the demon as he followed Donghyun through the door and down the stairs.
Everyone was gathered in the drawing room. Daeyeol was sitting by the fire, listlessly swirling the tea in his cup as he awaited for the police to show up. And Donghyun was sitting on the couch with Areum, holding onto his wife tightly as if she were the ghost slipping away.
Did Kim Donghyun love him? Of course, the man did. But Donghyun did not love him in the way that Joochan wanted. That love that he lusted afterwards did not belong to him. It was Areum’s. And she deserved it.
“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take Donghyun away from her. It wasn’t right,” Joochan muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from the couple. If he could sell his soul again, he would, just for a chance to say goodbye to them all.
“Your love was too good for this world that is why…”
Footfalls echoed throughout the hall, and the front door creaked open. Joochan finally looked away to see Y holding the door open for him. But it didn’t lead out onto the streets as it usually did. No, there was a bright, white light filtering through it.
Joochan gasped. “But how?” he sputtered. The other side of that door should be fire and brimstone, not this cleansing light.
“The contract was never finished,” Y explained. “So I returned your end of the bargain to Him.” He nodded upwards.
Joochan narrowed his eyes on the other. “What kind of devil are you?” He joked, and Y gave him a bitter laugh in return. “Thank you, Y,” he said as he hugged the other. The demon pulled away first and handed over the violin case to the other.
“Go.”
Joochan stepped towards the light, and then again and again. But his head craned back to see Y. “If I go,” Joochan started. “Would I ever be able to see you again?”
The demon shook his head. “My place is here,” he replied. “I’m not allowed to go there, and I don’t think you can come down here. At least, no one who moves on ever does.”
Joochan stopped with nearly a foot out the door. He then backtracked, still holding the other’s gaze who was now stunned. “What do you mean I can’t see you? I thought heaven was a place where you could meet with your loved ones and be with them forever!”
“Most people don’t love the devil, Joochan,” Y chided him.
“Well, I do!” Joochan exclaimed. He then turned towards the doorway again. “What are you going to do about it, huh? If you take me, then you have to take him too!”
Cold hands shoved him away from the door. “Don’t do that,” the demon hissed. “It could change into the other place just as quickly.”
“Why?” Joochan argued. “Why does it have to be heaven or hell? Why can’t I just stay here with you?”
Y cocked an eyebrow. “You wish to stay forever in limbo with me?” He asked for clarification. He followed Joochan’s wandering gaze into the room beside them. “They won’t be around forever. Eventually they’ll move on.”
“I know,” Joochan combatted and turned his attention back to the demon. “I just, I think my place is here, with you. Can’t I just stay, please?” Y might’ve return his soul back to God’s care, but the demon kept his heart. Joochan loved Y more than the demon could ever believe.
“I don’t know if you can, Joochan,” Y replied. “I don’t think things work like that.”
“Well, then, let’s try this,” Joochan suggested and closed the door, shutting out the light. And the hallway returned to shadows once again.
“What did you just do?!” Y howled. “You ruined your only chance!”
“No,” Joochan argued with a shake of his head and a shaky smile. “I’m creating a chance for us.” His timid hand reached for the doorknob and took hold of it. “Please, I’m begging you,” he prayed under his breath before opening the door.
Neither of them could predict the police to enter through that open door, passing through both of them to talk to the group in the next room.
This was it, their chance, and Joochan was going to take it. He walked out of the door and onto the streets, taking his violin out of its case and tossing the case aside. He spun towards Y who was still at the top of the steps leading into the apartment. “I knew it, Y! My place is here with you. I knew something, and you didn’t! Who’s the fool now?” Joochan jeered as he propped the violin into position and began playing his caprice for all to hear. So just the demon who was making his way down the steps towards his eternal companion.
“You won’t regret this. I’ll make sure of it,” Y promised.
“I will hold you to that.”
Shortly there afterwards, the two drew up a new contract, handing their hearts over to each other, along with a few more addendum. Hong Joochan did not become a demon like his infernal spouse. Instead, he became a dark muse and inspired musicians to dive into insanity to reach genius at the other side. Whether or not this had been a part of His plan all along was unknown, as it always was. But this is for certain: Do not pity Hong Joochan. He is alone with the answer for which there is no question. The saved and the damned are the same.
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