March Novel (Completed) - Chapter 114

His large hands clung stickily to Sehwa’s ribs and below his sternum. Gi Taejeong persistently groped his thin body, as if determined to find even a shred of Sehwa’s now hidden emotions. Unlike when he skillfully stroked him to arouse pleasure, his touch was clumsy and rough.

“I know now what I did wrong to you…”

“……”

“No, I vaguely knew it before… but I didn’t know what exactly to call those feelings back then.”

Gi Taejeong carefully observed Sehwa’s earlobes and the nape of his neck, trying his best to speak gently. When he was happy, embarrassed, or shedding tears of sorrow… Sehwa used to tinge his body with faint light. Gi Taejeong loved Lee Sehwa, who seemed saturated with water like a watercolor painting, and the diverse colors his body displayed. No, he loved that Sehwa showed such beautiful reactions because of him.

“I never learned it anywhere, so I never properly tried to convince myself, let alone you, of my feelings…”

However, Sehwa was now as white as paper, unlike before. His entire body was parched, except for where Gi Taejeong’s lips had touched. So dry that if even a small spark flew, he seemed ready to burst into flames.

Originally, wherever he touched his body, he could feel a throbbing pulse. Because Sehwa had given his whole heart to him, he couldn’t even hide his breathing in front of Gi Taejeong. But now… Even at this close proximity, he felt nothing.

“I thought a lot after you collapsed. Even more during the time you lost your memory…”

Gi Taejeong pulled Sehwa closer with a little more force. It must be because he was unwell. It was natural for him to lose his color and vitality after a major surgery. He tried to deny the reality he felt at his fingertips.

“I’ve lived my whole life like this, so I can only express myself in this way even now…”

“……”

“I was too harsh. To you and to the child.”

“……”

“I wanted to tell you, no, I kept thinking I had to tell you. While you were sick.”

It might sound absurd to Sehwa, but admitting a mistake or confessing wrongdoing was tantamount to suicide for a soldier, especially for Gi Taejeong, who had risen to his position through his own efforts.

In a battlefield, the only way to recover from a misjudgment is to seize victory. Reflection and self-criticism are no different from offering oneself as prey to those who constantly seek to tear him down.

Admitting ‘I was wrong,’ confessing ‘I’m sorry’…

Since the day he first underwent training after being dragged into the military, he had never sincerely uttered those words, after witnessing how a young soldier who habitually said ‘I’m sorry’ was made to pay for his verbal habit.

“Sehwa.”

“…Yes.”

He had called his name, at a loss for how to continue, but a small voice answered. Gi Taejeong finally let out a sigh of relief and rested his forehead on the crown of Sehwa’s head. He wasn’t expecting Sehwa to smile like before right away. But he hoped that if he gently tapped like this, Sehwa’s frozen heart might thaw a little, and a tiny hope, truly like a sprout, began to bud.

“…If you have nothing more to say, I… I’ll go.”

However, as if mocking Gi Taejeong’s fleeting imagination, Sehwa calmly pulled away. He had only answered because he was called; he was no longer moved by Gi Taejeong’s voice calling his name.

Gi Taejeong stood motionless, staring blankly as Sehwa’s white hands detached his fingers one by one from around his torso.

“It’s not that I’m ignoring… cough, what the Brigadier General said. It’s just… I think it must have been difficult for you. In your position as a Brigadier General… and in your… situation…”

“……”

“But, even so… Brigadier General… you did abandon me.”

When Sehwa even lifted his pinky finger, which had been resting on Gi Taejeong’s lower abdomen, Gi Taejeong’s hand fell limply.

With a weak grip, Sehwa, who had instantly incapacitated Gi Taejeong, silently resumed his steps. He walked a few steps forward with a clumsy gait, as if he had been making fun of himself earlier, then hesitated and looked back. His face even showed a resolute determination to finish all discussion related to this matter now.

“Brigadier General…”

“……”

“Brigadier General… you must have chosen… what was more precious to you… And I, by foolishly liking you, got carried away alone… and your method, your choice, hurt me… very much. That’s all.”

No. Lee Sehwa. I truly didn’t know. Gi Taejeong only moved his lips. He was calling Sehwa’s name repeatedly in his mind, but somehow he couldn’t make a sound. His expression was unfamiliar, and he couldn’t believe those words now, which truly sounded like an end…

“I hated… cough, the Brigadier General so much that ‘hate’ wasn’t enough. But now… I don’t even know that anymore.”

Gi Taejeong shook his head slightly. That faint movement gradually intensified, surprising Sehwa. His jaw tightened involuntarily.

He wanted to show Sehwa everything he had felt, what he had experienced during the time Sehwa was unconscious. No, he hadn’t abandoned him. He had never even thought of doing so. He kept thinking, what if he had treated him normally from the beginning? He wanted to convey it directly, without any misinterpretation. But Sehwa seemed to want to hear nothing more.

“In the past, I think, Brigadier General… if you had just said one word, ‘I’m sorry’… just that one word, then perhaps…”

Sehwa calmly said that he would have tried to take him back into his heart somehow, that there had been a time when he did. And that was also a polite refusal, meaning that it was useless now, no matter what precise words Gi Taejeong used to describe his psychology and circumstances.

“I’ll help you with the trial… You came all the way to the House because you really wanted to win, didn’t you?”

“……”

“Instead, please give up parental rights to Saessak, no, the child.”

“Se… hwa.”

“I hope… you keep… this promise.”

There was no need to ask further; it was palpable. This was the last time.

The last chance Sehwa was giving him, and his only wish, was to completely sever the connection with the child. Lee Sehwa was desperately asking him to do at least that if he wanted to restore even a little of their shattered trust.

“……”

Sehwa stared blankly at Gi Taejeong, who couldn’t say anything, then turned his body again.

Following his owner’s footsteps, which seemed to have given up everything, Sehwa’s small shadow, tied to Gi Taejeong, also detached itself. The black mass transformed into a round, slender, human-like shape, following Sehwa’s movements.

And the moment Sehwa’s body disappeared from Gi Taejeong’s sight, turning the corner of the corridor, his small shadow, still lingering on the floor, urgently curled up. His shoulders slumped, and his thin back trembled. That sorrowful tremor was achingly familiar.

…You’re crying because of me again.

But now, you don’t even want to show me your tears.

Gi Taejeong looked down at his empty hands. The warmth he had always thought was his had vanished so meaninglessly.

He cleared his throat a few times for no reason, then raised his head, and his solitary shadow still stretched out, distorted. Entangled with various things like the sign on the wall and the window frame, it looked like a monstrous shape with legs extended all the way to the end of the corridor.

Gi Taejeong clutched his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut.

Monster.

Yes, that truly was… no different from a monster.

Except for living in a hospital gown, he would have forgotten this was a hospital. The recovery room had separate bedrooms and living areas, and the bathroom, equipped with a spacious tub for medicated baths, was larger than the room itself.

Of course, it couldn’t compare to Gi Taejeong’s official residence. But that was where a high-ranking military officer lived, wasn’t it? This wasn’t a house or a hotel… How could the facilities attached to a hospital be so luxurious?

Sehwa pressed his swollen eyelids with his palms and got up from his seat. Putting the book he was reading back in its place, he decided he should definitely refuse Commander Oh Seonran’s offer to arrange a house within the 5-Star. You eat meat only if you’ve eaten it before. What good would it do to have something beyond his means? He’d only get indigestion.

He pressed the tablet button to turn off all the lights and burrowed into the soft bedding. Hmm. Tomorrow, he should decide on Saessak’s name and organize what to say at the trial. If he wrote down what he had heard from Lieutenant Kim and the situation at the House… would Gi Taejeong sort it out for him? Oh, maybe he already knew everything. Then he should ask him to prepare a script for him to recite in court.

How many days until the trial, he wondered. He was counting the days on his fingers when he heard the distant sound of a door opening and closing. Although he tried to hide his presence, the strong scent of perfume as he approached the bedroom immediately told Sehwa that Gi Taejeong had arrived.

Startled, Sehwa squeezed his eyes shut. Gi Taejeong, whose steps were unusually heavy and slow, entered the bedroom and placed something on the table with a thud. After a long while, he finally slumped onto the empty side of the bed.

Only then did Sehwa realize that Gi Taejeong had been drinking, quite a bit at that. Even though he seemed to have washed, as there was a hint of dampness mixed with his perfume, he could still smell the faint scent of alcohol.

The room was dark, and even with his eyes tightly closed, he could feel Gi Taejeong’s gaze fixed on him. He was staring so intently that it felt as if his cheek would literally be pierced.

Gi Taejeong, who had been sitting still for a moment, finally moved. He pulled back the edge of the blanket and got in, then, as always, hugged Sehwa tightly from behind.

The dampness clinging to his hair wet the back of Sehwa’s neck, making his body reflexively twitch slightly, ruining his pretense of being asleep.

Yet, Gi Taejeong said nothing. He didn’t get angry, asking if he was pretending to sleep, or if he was still being stubborn even after he had humbled himself so much. Nor did he give instructions on how Sehwa should behave after he agreed to give up parental rights.

There were no proposals, no negotiations, no commands. As if he hadn’t heard anything yesterday, Gi Taejeong simply held Sehwa in his arms.

Sehwa just blinked his eyes. After a while, the speed at which his eyelids moved gradually slowed. His easily tired, weak body welcomed the familiar warmth that enveloped him. It felt as if voices from everywhere were shouting at him to please sleep, to finally sleep.

He was on the verge of being dragged into slumber. When he finally opened and closed his eyes wide, something strange caught his sight, accustomed to the darkness. Sehwa rubbed his eyes hard, wondering what he had just seen.

On top of the neatly stacked pile of books, there was a tiny pair of shoes, perhaps the length of his pinky finger.