March Novel (Completed) - Chapter 120

Being told he ate too little or asked if there was anything he wanted was the least of it. Sometimes, Gi Taejeong would suddenly say things like, “I went to see the baby while you were sleeping, and it seems to have grown again,” or he would lean against the bedroom door, ostentatiously reading parenting books.

Still, it wasn’t as if his personality had changed completely. The man was just as blunt. He packaged his rough, coarse heart as affection and poured it out like a bombardment. Yet, he wouldn’t give up his own desires in the slightest. His habit of trying to solve everything with money also remained, and even amidst all this, he was endlessly buying baby products for Saessak.

However, if there was one definite change from before, it was that he no longer bothered to hide his emotions. Gi Taejeong seemed to think this feeling was love, while Sehwa considered it something akin to possessiveness… Regardless, he no longer treated Sehwa as a necessity, nor as a disposable item to be used and discarded.

The man occasionally mumbled that he had never acted so in sync with his true feelings as he did these days, and that this version of himself felt unfamiliar. Well, that wasn’t something Sehwa could judge.

Ah… The faint scent of cigars that used to subtly linger when he briefly stepped out for work had now completely vanished. The man’s body odor, stripped of all harmful and dark elements, was much brighter and fresher than Sehwa remembered. That was the only way he could truly feel Gi Taejeong’s distinct change.

“Shall we go?”

Sehwa exhaled a long sigh through his nose. Even though he made no sound, Gi Taejeong must have seen his shoulders rise and fall significantly… but no scolding came. He simply stood close beside him, matching his slow, clumsy steps.

This being the case, there was nothing Sehwa could do. Ever since he had run away to Sector 2, there had been a precarious distance between Gi Taejeong and him. To be precise, there were various excuses to keep the man at a distance.

‘He’s acting suspiciously gentle because he wants to win the trial.’ ‘It might be because he can’t stand the sight of Captain Oh Seonran.’ ‘And their sexual chemistry is good, so…’ In such ways, Sehwa could mislead, push away, and unreservedly hate Gi Taejeong, who hurt him. It was also easier on his mind to brand him as a heartless, wicked person. That way, the wounds and depression caused by Gi Taejeong could be clearly explained.

But these days, Gi Taejeong acted persistently, as if he would no longer tolerate Sehwa’s avoidance. He wouldn’t gloss over things with vague expressions like “it was a mistake.” In such moments, he would constantly badger Sehwa, asking what he wanted him to say, or what attitude he should adopt.

Yet, he gave Sehwa no excuse to formally reject him. If he were shamelessly rationalizing himself as before, Sehwa might even get angry, but since he kept pleading for a chance, admitting his wrongdoing, there were no suitable options.

When the discomfort and frustration accumulated to the point of suffocating him, Gi Taejeong would quickly back off again. He would uncannily detect the boundaries in Sehwa’s heart, which Sehwa himself didn’t even know existed, and deftly avoid awkward situations.

In short, Gi Taejeong these days was arbitrarily being kind to Sehwa.

Perhaps that’s why… Sehwa found himself wanting to lash out at Gi Taejeong these days. It seemed the saying, “A person only stretches out their legs where they can lie down,” was perfectly apt.

There was a time when he didn’t even wish this much from him. If Gi Taejeong had been even half as gentle when he dragged Sehwa back like a dog from Sector 2, if he had immediately admitted his mistakes when all the hidden truths came to light, if he had at least said he would change his attitude in the future… then perhaps Sehwa’s heart would have melted in the end.

A tumultuous romance between people with gaping holes in different directions. A predictable linear relationship born of class differences. Someday, Sehwa would have defined his relationship with Gi Taejeong in such terms and resigned himself to it.

However, once Sehwa realized that Gi Taejeong could change to some extent, the old residue he had painstakingly hidden beneath the surface began to run wild.

Yesterday, Gi Taejeong suddenly recalled the moment Sehwa lost his memory. He said that he had only just realized that if he had been a little more honest during that brief time, many things might have been different.

Sehwa was the opposite. He wished he had never known about Gi Taejeong’s efforts. If he had remained ignorant, he wouldn’t be so upset now…

Indeed, if he had been a little more honest, Sehwa would have thrown everything at him like straw, so why did he keep lying? Why did he treat him so arbitrarily? He should have remained a bad guy from beginning to end, but now he’s saying he’ll do better in the future? Let’s pretend it’s their second love? But the memories ingrained in his entire body won’t disappear, so why make him more miserable by revealing what he didn’t know?

Of course, Sehwa knew he couldn’t dwell on his depression forever. Hadn’t he, who had lost his memory after turning twenty, quickly returned to normal? Even at this moment, time was steadily flowing forward. Yes, he had to move forward.

Even knowing this well, Sehwa could not find peace. Perhaps it was better when he was the only one suffering internally. His heart was hardening like a stone. He was clearly dying peacefully alone, but this rotten man, as Gi Taejeong called him, wouldn’t even allow him that shabby peace.

“Is something wrong?”

Noticing Sehwa’s poor expression, Gi Taejeong cautiously examined his complexion.

“It might be good to get a simple check-up before the trial begins.”

Sehwa turned his head sharply without replying and subtly moved his body sideways. Even in the car, there was a limit to how far he could get away, but he tried to put as much distance between them as possible by pressing himself against the car window.

Gi Taejeong seemed to decide it was better not to provoke him when Sehwa suddenly became sharp, so he didn’t speak to him afterward. However, Sehwa saw him repeatedly raise and lower his hand out of the corner of his eye.

Was he going to stroke his head? Or hug his shoulder? As Sehwa bristled like a hedgehog, arching his back, Gi Taejeong chuckled, saying he wouldn’t do anything. It was a dry, parched laugh that somehow sent shivers down one’s stomach.

“Relax. I won’t touch you.”

“……”

“As I kept saying, if you ever need to speak, I’ll request a recess and give you a script or something, so don’t get upset and act on your own… Just endure whatever those old men say. I’ll take care of the bastards who talked nonsense to you after this is over.”

Sehwa nodded after a slight pause. Park So-wi and Choi Won-sa had already warned him about the expected verbal abuse at the trial, but it was nothing compared to what he had heard countless times at the House.

Ah, it was a bit surprising that Lieutenant Kim had feelings for him. No, “feelings” isn’t quite right. While confined in the House under Gi Taejeong’s surveillance, Lieutenant Kim had sent him messages several times. Sehwa had only been able to check them all a few days ago… Well, to summarize the long-winded content, at best, it was on the level of wanting to take him as a concubine.

Anyway, Lieutenant Kim, who must have been thoroughly provoked by continuous disregard, said that Sehwa’s way of dealing with guests was promiscuous, or that he had a sponsor, and that he might try to find flaws out of context, so he should be most careful at that moment. Gi Taejeong still seemed to think that Sehwa’s misunderstanding about selling his body was the most terrible thing. Now, none of that mattered…

“We’ve passed the main gate. We will stop in front of the annex in 5 minutes.”

The car had already passed the main gate of the Ministry of National Defense. The security had been strict when he visited before, but now it was incomparable. Fortunately, Gi Taejeong, being a brigadier general, seemed able to park the car temporarily in front of the annex where the courtroom was, while most others were stopping at the entrance. Old men were stopping their cars at the checkpoint below and walking quite a distance in neat lines.

“Stopping in 2 minutes.”

Lieutenant Park, sitting in the passenger seat, carefully counted down. Come to think of it, this was the first time he had given advance notice by counting minutes.

At the 1-minute remaining alert, Gi Taejeong adjusted his uniform. The series of actions, tightening his tie and straightening his cuffs, had more force than usual. Only then did Sehwa feel a gradual tension building up. A very important trial, one that would change the lives of many people, was imminent.

The large car stopped smoothly, as if sailing on a calm surface. Soldiers, who had been waiting after receiving a radio call, approached with precision and opened the rear door. As Sehwa stepped out, special forces soldiers, lined up in orderly rows, saluted Gi Taejeong. The heavy chorus of “Chung-seong” (Loyalty), drawn from their bellies, was always intimidating, making Sehwa involuntarily shrink and cower.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Gi Taejeong said sullenly, asking why he should be scared when all those bastards were under his command.

“No one can lay a hand on you.”

Then he scanned the surroundings. Sehwa couldn’t see Gi Taejeong’s expression as he gazed forward from where Sehwa stood, but the corners of the soldiers’ mouths, positioned according to his gaze, ambiguously curled upwards.

If his intention was to ease the tension, it was half successful and half failed. Seeing the soldiers with wide smiles that didn’t reach their eyes somehow felt bizarre, making Sehwa constantly flinch.

“Good morning. Please fill out the witness information.”

A soldier with one more epaulet than the others approached, holding out a large tablet. He was extremely polite, as if he had been instructed beforehand about who would be coming with the brigadier general. If it weren’t for Gi Taejeong, Sehwa would have died a dog’s death without even a chance to explain himself, wouldn’t he? Sehwa swallowed the bitterness and took the device.

It wasn’t difficult, as it was exactly like the practice. Upon entering his social security number, his basic information appeared. He confirmed that the registered information, including his residential area, was correct and pressed the button below to proceed. The newly attached page contained information about the recently born child and his adoptive father.

The part about Captain Oh Seonran was not difficult at all. Perhaps because he was a high-ranking official, most of the information was masked, so it was enough to just confirm that his hologram and name were correctly written.

The problem was Saessak’s page.

Since Lieutenant Park had shown him the form the other day, Sehwa had been seriously considering the child’s name. There had been a desired meaning ever since he named him Saessak (sprout), so once he decided to actually name him, it was surprisingly easy.

Saessak’s name was decided as Haerim.

“Lee Haerim?”

“……”

“When did you decide that?”

Gi Taejeong, who had been standing diagonally behind him, asked.

Sehwa wished Saessak would become a lush tree, a dense forest, not a small, insignificant flower like himself. And he wished he would grow up to be a person like the vast ocean.

So, burying his nose in the book Captain Oh Seonran had bought him, he picked out characters that matched the meaning. Among them, he combined those with pretty pronunciations and finally chose it. ‘Hae’ for ocean, ‘Rim’ for forest. Haerim.

“What does it mean?”

“……”

“Lee Haerim… It’s pretty.”

Sehwa was so nervous, wondering if Gi Taejeong would scold him for writing “Lee” (his own surname), or ask why he used a character meaning ‘ocean’ instead of ‘sky’.

But surprisingly, Gi Taejeong didn’t take issue with anything. Instead, he lightly nodded, saying it suited Saessak well. Sehwa couldn’t tell what he was thinking inside, but at least he acted that way in front of him.

Sehwa somehow felt like he had climbed a big mountain and took a deep breath. Now it was time to enter the information of another parent, Gi Taejeong.

He had been briefed on this beforehand. Lieutenant Park had told him to choose ‘common-law marriage’ when the option to select his relationship with Gi Taejeong appeared. He said it would be advantageous in the trial.

However, his hand wouldn’t move readily. Legal spouse, common-law marriage, cohabitant in custody negotiations, separated in custody negotiations or having completed negotiations… All possible scenarios when a man and a woman meet and have a child were listed.

Gi Taejeong, who had been interjecting about Haerim’s name, now said nothing and simply stared at Sehwa. In fact, Sehwa… wanted to choose ‘Other’. And in the field, he just wanted to write ‘Unknown’. Because that was the truth…

But he had promised to do his best to help Gi Taejeong’s trial. Although Gi Taejeong acted as if he hadn’t heard anything whenever this topic came up, Sehwa had agreed to transfer full parental rights of Haerim to him in exchange for scoring 3 points first. Sehwa had repeatedly urged Gi Taejeong to keep this promise, and no matter how he reacted, Sehwa intended to push this through his way. He was going to threaten him, saying it was cowardly but he would keep the entire trial process a secret if Gi Taejeong followed his words, and if necessary, he was even prepared to use Captain Oh Seonran.

It’s all a rigged lie anyway. Choosing this doesn’t actually make him and Gi Taejeong such a couple… Why is he so nervous and scared? Just as Sehwa managed his unstable breathing and was about to lift his finger.

“Hey, Sakura!”

Startled by the booming voice, Sehwa involuntarily trembled. Sakura. Sam-wol. His nickname, which he had forgotten completely as he had no reason to hear it, pierced his heart.

“Damn it, that slut… Hey, I heard you even had a kid with the guy you switched to?”

The entrance was filled with the sound of soldiers saluting Gi Taejeong. Turning back, Sehwa saw Lieutenant Kim, whose face was darker than before, a middle-aged man who was probably his father, and…

“Well… your face is still the same.”

Maejo, another Hwatu player, stood triumphantly.