Chapter 68

—“Section Chief, I ate lunch. I had cream bread again, but today I’m unusually sick of it.”

Seo Mu-yeong fired off several provocative text messages in a row to Choi Yook. But as had been the case lately, no matter how long he waited, no reply arrived. Poking at him on purpose hadn’t yielded the slightest payoff. Even as he lightly bumped the back of his head against the driver’s headrest, Seo Mu-yeong stubbornly sent a follow-up.

—“That’s how it is for me.”

Still, no answer came. At this point, one might legitimately doubt whether Choi Yook was still alive. Seo Mu-yeong had even tried reaching out to Han Seo-yoon, but whether by Choi Yook’s orders or because he had vanished into thin air as well, the silence was just as absolute.

Seo Mu-yeong leaned back heavily against the driver’s seat. Whenever he thought back to the night of the memorial service, his heart instantly dissolved like an overripe pineapple—sweet and mushy, crumbling at the prod of a fork, soft enough to melt on the tongue.

Back then, he had wanted Choi Yook so desperately. He had loved the sensation of being held by him, hated the thought of letting go of the back he clutched so tightly.

So even if Choi Yook had dipped his head a little lower, Mu-yeong wouldn’t have pulled away.

With his hands clasped behind the headrest, Seo Mu-yeong fingered the seat cover. It was a cover he had put on specifically because he hated the thought of Choi Yook touching his car. Yet now, he felt he wouldn’t mind stripping it all off. For Mu-yeong, who treasured his vehicle as much as his own home—no matter how battered or shoddy it was—this was a tremendous change.

What’s the point? I don’t even know whether the man who’d ride in it is dead or alive.

With his only proper conversational partner suddenly gone, every day felt hollow. It felt as though he had been shoved off solid ground, sinking slowly underwater.

If you weren’t going to reply, you shouldn’t have told me to stay in touch in the first place. You shouldn’t have eaten meals with me, shouldn’t have sat in my passenger seat, shouldn’t have come over to my house.

Whenever thoughts of Choi Yook surfaced without warning, the emptiness he left behind felt all the more acute. The investigation into Mu-yeong’s disappearance had slackened, meaning he was technically safer, yet his heart refused to settle.

Couldn’t I just kidnap Choi Yook?

Tying him up in his own house and serving him delicious meals three times a day. Observing his reactions with meticulous care to figure out what he liked and what he hated. That way, instead of mechanically chewing and swallowing whatever was put in front of him, he could finally eat food he genuinely enjoyed.

Even the cucumbers in his grandmother’s yard had been a struggle to cultivate, but taking care of Choi Yook felt like it would be fun and manageable. It would certainly be better for Choi Yook, too. Choi Sijin threw tantrums and made his older brother clean up food scraps, whereas Mu-yeong would bring him anything he wanted to eat.

The trouble was, kidnapping Choi Yook was an impossibility.

Seo Mu-yeong scratched vigorously at the seat cover. Kidnap? Taking another hit to the back of his head with a baseball bat would be far quicker. It was practically the fable of belling the cat. Choi Yook wouldn’t even need to meow; just the barest motion of raising a front paw would send Mu-yeong scurrying into a mouse hole.

Still, if there was any good news, it was that the cosmetic brand Choi Sijin had been endorsing recently replaced its model. Word had it that it wasn’t due to any scandal, but simply a routine change coinciding with the expiration of his contract. Even so, from Seo Mu-yeong’s perspective, it meant one less billboard of Choi Sijin’s face glaring down at him during his daily rounds.

The thought gave him a boost of energy. Since Choi Yook wasn’t paying any attention to him anyway, and since something positive had happened, perhaps he should contact another ‘Yeon-jae hyung’ candidate. Hyung was far, far, far more important to him than Choi Yook ever was. If he threw himself into searching for his brother, he wouldn’t spare a single thought for Choi Yook.

The second ‘Yeon-jae hyung’ candidate was Shin Yeon-jae, who resided in Mangcheon. Seo Mu-yeong sent a text message to his cell phone number.

—“Hello?? By any chance, is this the contact number for Mr. Shin Yeon-jae, who used to attend Dongun Middle School??”

It was a text crafted with far more courtesy than the one he had sent to Hwang Yeon-jae. Perhaps because he had been burned so badly back then, there was no flutter of anticipation. He had simply pressed the send button with calm composure.

Waiting for an answer, Seo Mu-yeong finished his workday and began his commute home. The reply arrived only after the sun had set and he was already back at his house.

—“Yes, that’s me. May I ask who is messaging?”

The tone was polite and gentle. Could this polite person actually be hyung? Struggling not to jump to conclusions, Seo Mu-yeong moved his fingers swiftly.

—“I’m reaching out because I’m looking for someone. Did you happen to visit the small library at the foot of Mount Yeongno in the past? Before the new building went up in front of it.”

His heart sank at the reply that came back. Seo Mu-yeong clutched his cell phone tightly.

—“Then, did you happen to be close with a child there? Studying together, catching bugs in the yard and playing.”

After sending the message in haste, Seo Mu-yeong waited anxiously for an answer. It did not take long for a response to arrive.

—“Yes, I did. Are you that child? Have you been looking for me?”

Seo Mu-yeong caught his breath. He had so much he wanted to say, but his hands trembled so violently that typos kept slipping in. Barely managing to keep control, he sent a reply.

—“Yes.”

He had sent only a single word, yet his mind went completely blank. Dazed, as if blood were failing to reach his brain, his heart thudded with a dull ache. Just then, an incoming call from Shin Yeon-jae flashed onto the screen.

What he held in his hand felt less like a phone and more like a bomb with a burning fuse. All he needed to do was press a single button, yet strangely, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Nor could he simply ignore the persistently ringing phone.

Seo Mu-yeong hesitated, at a loss, before finally answering. Unlike his usual spirited self, the voice that slipped out was trembling and faint.

“Uh, um… Hello…”

—“What’s this? Why are you being so awkward?”

Shin Yeon-jae chuckled amiably. His high-pitched voice was raspy, like someone who had spent an hour belting out songs at a karaoke room.

—“Drop the formalities. It’s been so long. You have no idea how much I missed you. Where are you living now? Mangcheon?”

“No, Seoul… But hyung. Weren’t you surprised?”

Seo Mu-yeong bit the inside of his mouth. His trimmed fingernails dug deep into his palm.

“You thought I was a girl when we were young. Finding out I’m actually a guy now… didn’t that feel strange to you?”

Shin Yeon-jae fell silent for a moment. But the quiet did not last long.

—“Well, a little. But does that really matter? What matters is that we found each other again after all this time. How many years has it been? Just how many…”

“Fourteen years,” Seo Mu-yeong said quietly.

—“Right, it really has been a long time. When are you free? Let’s see each other tomorrow. Do you have time? Should I head up to Seoul?”

“…No, I’ll come down to Mangcheon.”

Seo Mu-yeong spoke without loosening the tension in his bloodless fists. After that, plans came together swiftly. The two agreed to meet around lunchtime at a large franchise café near the subway station. Once the call disconnected, Seo Mu-yeong stared blankly at his phone.

Tomorrow, he would see his hyung.

It was an event he had awaited for an agonizingly long time. His hyung had even welcomed him warmly. By all accounts, he ought to feel nothing but pure joy and fluttering excitement, yet even as his fingertips turned icy, his heart merely hammered with violence. His head tingled with a dull numbness, and nausea curdled in his stomach—just like when he had endured all manner of humiliations while wandering from one errand center to the next in search of work.

Is it because I’m in shock, because it doesn’t feel real? At a total loss, Seo Mu-yeong sank onto the bed. He swallowed hard, his toes curling involuntarily. He undoubtedly wanted to see his hyung, yet at the same time, part of him wished tomorrow would remain impossibly far away.

In any case, with the plans finalized, he had to submit his report even if it was late. Seo Mu-yeong sent a text to Choi Yook.

Section Chief, I have a lunch appointment tomorrow. I might not be able to contact you on the dot.

He had no expectation of receiving an answer. Since Choi Yook hadn’t responded lately, he would surely ignore this one as well. Giving up on waiting, Seo Mu-yeong lay down on the bed and forced his restless eyes shut. But before long, an alert popped up on his phone.

—“Who are you meeting?”

It was a text from none other than Choi Yook. Seo Mu-yeong shot upright from the mattress. His heart, which had been swinging heavily like a clock’s pendulum, fluttered excitedly like a sparrow spotting grains of rice. It felt as though air was rushing into his hollow husk of a body, lifting him buoyant into the air.

Yet what was he supposed to tell Choi Yook? The man already had a firm grasp on his narrow social circle. Flumping back down onto the bed, Seo Mu-yeong rolled from side to side across the mattress as he deliberated on a response.

—“An old friend. We got back in touch after a long time.”

Clutching the pillow to his chest, Seo Mu-yeong typed out the vague explanation. Surely this is a safe enough answer? But shortly after sending the message, an unexpected call arrived from Choi Yook.

Though Seo Mu-yeong flinched reflexively, a smile broke across his face. How has Choi Yook been doing all this time? Why didn’t he reply before? If he was angry, has he cooled off now?

Questions he longed to ask bubbled up endlessly like bubbles in boiling water. With his face lighting up, Seo Mu-yeong answered the phone without a moment’s delay.

“Section Chief, hel—”

—“What kind of bullshit is this about Seo Mu-yeong-ssi having an old friend? If you’re making excuses to sneak around behind my back, at least come up with a plausible lie.”

Without even a greeting, Choi Yook launched straight into an interrogation. It felt as though Mu-yeong had reached out for an affectionate embrace, only to have a bucket of freezing water splashed squarely in his face.

Did you call just to say this? After how much I looked forward to hearing your voice? Seo Mu-yeong gripped the pillow and twisted it in frustration.

“I have friends, too,” Seo Mu-yeong protested. “He’s a friend I lost touch with for a long time, and then he suddenly called out of nowhere.”

—“A guy?”

“Yes.”

When he gave the brief confirmation, Choi Yook scoffed over the line.

—“Fascinating how someone who looks like he’d run scams for a living bites on a hook like this so eagerly. Let me guess, does this friend of yours happen to look fair, intellectual, and innocent?”

Does he think I can’t like anyone who isn’t fair, intellectual, and innocent? Choi Yook himself looks like the exact opposite. Grounding himself in reality, Seo Mu-yeong corrected the record.

“He did look somewhat like that back in the day, but I wouldn’t know about now,” Seo Mu-yeong countered. “Besides, what my friend looks like isn’t what’s important, is it?”

—“Right. Whether Seo Mu-yeong-ssi buys a jade heating mat or gets roped into an insurance policy has nothing to do with me either.”