Diamond Dust Novel - Chapter 13. Separation

Kwon Juhan. At the time, 22 years old.

He was enrolled in the Department of Western Painting at a university that was quite well-regarded, if not quite top-tier, but he later became obsessed with the ‘Sex Pistols,’ neglected his school life, and clung to his guitar. He eventually joined an underground punk band and lived a life of eating and sleeping in the band’s practice room after leaving home.

The reason he left home wasn’t that his parents opposed his band activities. His parents, who had changed course early on when he was in middle school, registering him in a famous preparatory art academy and seeking out talented instructors for lessons, all to get him into a four-year university in Seoul despite his lack of interest in studying, had successfully achieved their goal.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t opposed the band, his father smashed two guitars, and his mother cut off his allowance, but that wasn’t the decisive reason why Juhan, who had grown up comfortably until then, ended up sleeping on a practice room couch.

His parents would have been reasonably satisfied if he had just graduated from university, regardless of whether he played the guitar or did anything else. However, even though they had virtually given up on a son who wouldn’t do as they wished, they couldn’t accept that he was going around engaging in perverted homosexual acts.

The instructor he had dated for about a year during his prep school days had been stalking Juhan for several years (even during his mandatory military service), and when his repeated proposals to get back together were rejected, the stalker retaliated by attempting to destroy Juhan’s life.

He sent the cumulative results of his stalking to Juhan’s parents.

From Juhan’s perspective, these were pieces of evidence of stalking, but from his parents’ perspective, they were proof that their son was a homosexual, and one with perverted sexual tastes that most people would find difficult to accept.

The package included photos they had taken together when they were dating, photos of him engaging in intimate physical contact with one-night stands in clubs, and even screenshots of extremely private “dirty talk” exchanged via text during their relationship.

, Along with a memo that read:

“Your son is a perverted homosexual who enjoys penetrating the anuses of middle-aged men nearly double his age and bringing them to tears by verbally humiliating them with lewd language. I am a person whose life your son ruined. Please make efforts to guide him at home so that no further victims emerge.”

It was true that Juhan enjoyed men who were listless and timid in their late 30s, and he got excited seeing them cry uncontrollably, completely overwhelmed by pleasure that crossed the line of decency, a sensation they had never tasted before, which he brought out by touching their sexual shame during sex. But who ruined whose life?

Wasn’t Juhan the one who brought him liberation and salvation by satisfying the perverted sexual desires he had suppressed his entire life with no outlet?

That was the last thing he wanted to hear from the person who had been more passionately aroused than anyone else during that play.

Though he technically walked out the door by his own volition, it was functionally the same as being disowned.

His mother, who didn’t even have time to rush to the bathroom, threw up right on the sofa, and his father, who had never once physically abused him even after smashing his guitar twice, lost all reason and hit Juhan indiscriminately.

Juhan eventually shouted back, arguing that there was nothing wrong with consensual sexual relations between people of the same sexual orientation, and that parents had no right to interfere with their adult child’s sexual life. But in reality, Juhan understood his parents’ shock.

It would be shocking enough if they saw sex photos and dirty talk exchanged between their son and a heterosexual partner, so it was understandable that they felt the sky was falling when they saw photos of their son being serviced by an older man.

Even when he insisted, “I am still the Kwon Juhan, your son, that you knew,” his parents’ eyes were filled with contempt and rage. Just being in the same house was hell. He figured it would be better for them to keep their distance until they could somewhat collect themselves and re-evaluate the situation.

He was working three part-time jobs a day to afford a place to live, but since he’d had to take jobs in a rush, the hourly wages were poor for the intensity of the labor.

Lying on a sofa he had picked up, which someone had discarded during a move, and whose cushions were bursting in several places, Juhan thought every night.

Yeah, it won’t be easy for him to find a young guy his age to put a cotton swab in his urethra while asking, ‘Why are you so kinky, Mister? Can’t you control yourself even at that age?’ So his desires have piled up, and he must be very angry.

, If anyone thought Juhan would be so understanding, they had misjudged him.

Juhan had changed his number several times to avoid the stalking. The last time he changed it, the stalker sent him a video of himself masturbating via messenger, congratulating him on his new phone activation. Even then, Juhan had only deleted the message and blocked the ID.

The stalker showed up at every one of the band’s live shows, and there were several instances where he waited outside the house, knelt, and sobbed, begging Juhan to get back together. It wasn’t because of love. They had simply enjoyed each other from the start, and the other person simply couldn’t find a partner who satisfied him as much as Juhan did.

He’ll stop eventually. It was a mistake to think of him as a slightly annoying, obsessive fan and leave him alone. Juhan thought, How much trouble could a timid and introverted person cause, even if they make a big fuss? But Juhan had miscalculated.

A timid person would never wield a knife in this manner against another person’s life. That person was simply a sinister and cowardly bastard. While he could forgive the sinister part, he couldn’t overlook the cowardice.

Staring at the mold stains on the practice room ceiling for about a month, Juhan pondered nightly how to get revenge until he felt satisfied.

That’s right, nothing else mattered. He had to get his satisfaction. He felt he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night until he poured his rage onto that bastard until the anger inside him was cleanly burnt out. To do that, Juhan, who had once been the young master of an affluent family, was even prepared to have a criminal record for the rest of his life. That was the spirit of punk.

On the day his first paycheck was deposited, Juhan went to his regular vintage shop.

It was a store that sold punk items, which were not common in Korea. He could finally pick up the combat boots he had been eyeing. Juhan planned to execute his revenge wearing those boots.

“Hyung, how could you? I was going to buy them!”

“I’m sorry… but you know, we don’t run this business with a lot of spare cash either. You reserved them but didn’t come for a month, and if I don’t sell them when someone wants to buy them, who knows when the next buyer will appear… I couldn’t help it. Please understand.”

Juhan was devastated to hear that the boots he had insisted shouldn’t be sold to anyone else, promising to buy them as soon as his paycheck came in, had been sold just five minutes ago. He even felt anxious, as if a brake had been put on his revenge plan.

“I survived a whole month on instant ramen and triangle gimbap just thinking about those!”

“I got a lot of other pretty boots in. You don’t have to have only those.”

“Those aren’t just shoes to me! Hyung, do you happen to have the number of the person who bought them?”

“Uh… well…”

The owner scratched his sparse stubble with his index finger and rolled his eyes. Juhan leaned his upper body across the counter as if he might vault over it.

“What is it, do you know? If you know, please tell me! I’ll pay extra… no, I’ll beg for them back!”

Suddenly, someone lightly tapped him on the shoulder from behind. It was an affectionate touch, like a tickle, gentle like a prank.

“How much extra will you pay?”

“……”

Turning around, he saw a petite woman looking up at him. She had a sharp, jet-black bob haircut and wore sunglasses indoors in the middle of winter, which was striking. She wasn’t particularly tall, but because of the heels on her lace-up boots, her lips were near the tip of Juhan’s nose.

From head to toe, from the piercings through her eyebrows and cheeks to the tartan plaid coat, she was punk itself.

Killer style. Even in that situation, Juhan was impressed.

“Did… you buy them?”

The woman nodded.

“What? They won’t even fit you! Hand them over to me, alright?”

“Do people buy shoes only to wear them? What’s with you, acting like a newbie.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed at Juhan, who was lunging at her.

“Sister, Hyung-nim. Please sell them to me. I’m a man who has endured a month of extreme hardship just thinking about getting my hands on those shoes. Those shoes are not just shoes to me right now. They’re a symbol of my resolve.”

I could feel her gaze behind the sunglasses slowly scrutinizing me, as if gauging the sincerity of Juhan’s earnestness.

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“My life is in the gutter right now because of some bastard. I promised myself I’d go get my revenge on that asshole once I had those boots in my hand. That boot is not just a shoe. It’s a symbol of my resolve.”

She pulled her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose and looked at Juhan. Her large eyes, defined by thick smoky makeup, were exceptionally sharp.

“I studied aesthetics and wanted to go abroad to become a curator in Europe, but my mom and dad told me to go to a teaching college and become a teacher. Like my younger sibling, who does what they’re told, wears the clothes they’re told to wear, and hangs out with the friends they’ve been assigned. But I secretly applied to and got accepted into the Department of Aesthetics at XX University. My mom and dad say they won’t pay the tuition if it’s not a teaching college. I can’t even go to the university I worked my ass off to get into, and I’ve moved out to live in a 1.5-pyeong goshiwon (small, cheap room). I went to work at a gallery, hoping to build a career in something I love, but I only get paid ‘passion wages’ despite working over 15 hours a day. And there’s a line of kids willing to work for that pay, so I don’t even know when I’ll be fired.”

Juhan’s eyes narrowed this time, unsure of the intention behind the sudden torrent of self-confession. Was this some kind of misery-off battle? If he won, would she concede the boots?

“How about it? Is your life more ruined than mine?”

Juhan answered immediately, as if he had anticipated her question.

“Outing.”

“……”

She stared at Juhan in silence for a moment. Then, folding her arms, she posed her next question.

“…The target?”

“My parents.”

“…The perpetrator?”

“My ex-lover. An art academy instructor I dated in high school. He was 37 then, 41 now.”

This time, she screwed up her face, using all the muscles in her face.

“Why are your tastes like that?”

“I know, my taste is trash. But he’s the bastard who revealed that trashy taste to my parents.”

“He is a goddamn asshole, alright.”

“Right? I’m going to wear these and go shove that bastard into the gutter this time. I’m going to make sure he can never take a dump through his asshole again. Even if I end up getting hauled to the police station for it. I’m just not the type to let a debt go unpaid. So, give them up.”

“Let’s go.”

She adjusted her sunglasses, walked past Juhan, and headed toward the entrance.

“Where? You’re not giving me the shoes? Didn’t you just say he’s a goddamn asshole?”

Juhan shouted, following her. As she opened the door, the cold winter air rushed in, as if waiting eagerly.

“Do you think that would be revenge? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Social destruction must be repaid with social destruction.”