March Novel (Completed) - Chapter 48

“Just…”

Sehwa raised the back of his hand and pressed it firmly against his mouth. His fingertips were still damp. He couldn’t tell if it was from the lettuce or the general’s saliva.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was adrift in a vast ocean, naked. The ground he stood on was getting smaller and smaller.

When overwhelming difficulties surged in like a tide and then receded, the general would toss something to him as if giving charity. The meal spread before him now was like that, as were the cake and toys he had received before, and the ledger he had taken from the boss. As he picked up and ate the crumbs that fell at his feet, like ants swarming around snacks, the things the general had done to him soon seemed to matter no longer.

“Lee Sehwa.”

At the name, called like an assault, Sehwa’s eyes shook uncontrollably. His neck instinctively recoiled, like a turtle retreating into its shell.

“……”

“Ah… that is…”

A vein bulged prominently between the general’s eyebrows.

He knew it wasn’t true. This time, he wasn’t trying to tease or torment him; he was literally trying to call him. He knew, but… for a moment, the memory of the bunker resurfaced, and he reacted excessively without realizing it.

“That just now, I didn’t do it on purpose…”

He tried to explain, but the general, who had already read much from Sehwa’s expression, picked up the tongs again as if to say, “Don’t bother.” He lined up the bright red meat on the grill and began to cut it with scissors, as if picking a fight.

“General, sir.”

“……”

“I did wrong…”

The chunks of meat were cut so finely they almost turned into powder. It was a command to shut up, and a warning that he would be next. He had always tried to escape in a self-destructive way, but this infuriating man wouldn’t even allow that.

Many people had hurt Sehwa, but very few had offered an apology. Even fewer had tried to mend a strained atmosphere by buying such an expensive meal. The general was the first. Trying to act normal was a sign of displeasure. But he couldn’t just pretend it never happened… He knew he was sending some kind of signal, but it was difficult to interpret. Sehwa, sensing the mood, bowed his head deeply and slowly ate a perilla leaf.

“I’m sorry, I just…”

“……”

“It’s just that it’s delicious.”

The excuse he came up with after thinking was flimsy even to Sehwa’s ears. The general gulped down cold water, as if trying to suppress his anger.

Still, it wasn’t a lie. The thought of diligently moving his chopsticks despite his discomfort was because he had never tasted such delicious food before.

“The meat is delicious too… and the cake you gave me before was delicious… everything is delicious.”

Thinking that making ssam was enough for now, he slightly lowered his rolled-up sleeves. The general, with narrowed eyes, only looked at the area of Sehwa’s thin arm that had disappeared.

“…You.”

“Yes?”

He called him first, but then said nothing. He just stared at Sehwa’s cheeks, which were puffed up from eating tofu. No, he stared so intensely that it seemed he wanted to crush them, chewing at his entire skin with his gaze alone. He glared so sharply that if he looked in a mirror now, his cheeks would probably be red and swollen from being bitten.

“You… eat all that and then come out.”

After a long pause, the general suddenly stood up. The sound of the chair legs scraping the floor brought the hidden staff respectfully closer. Had he finished eating already? He seemed to exercise diligently and looked strong, so he thought he would eat a lot. It must have been a prejudice. Sehwa put down his chopsticks and also hastily prepared to leave. But… the general waved away the staff member who was coming with his outer garment.

“Don’t eat with a worried mind and then blame others for choking.”

Sehwa stood blankly, blinking his eyes.

“I don’t think you’ll hear anything I say right now.”

“……”

“Eat and then we’ll talk again.”

The general gestured towards the table. Sehwa looked at the grill piled high with meat. So, he was saying he was going to leave him here alone?

“Oh, aren’t you eating? What I just did was really a mistake…”

“You’re throwing a fit because you hate even hearing my voice.”

“……”

“What do you want me to say if I make you sit there?”

The general, who seemed to know the staff, took a pack of cigarettes from one of them and walked out. It was like winter weather, and he was still wearing nothing over his clothes.

“…How am I supposed to eat all this alone…”

A chilly wind swept through the restaurant as the door opened and closed. Sehwa awkwardly sat down and looked at the table. A staff member approached quietly and offered fresh vegetables. He even kindly asked if he wanted more steamed egg. His kindness was overwhelming, but it was directed not at Sehwa, but at the general who had left. As if the awkwardness of the person left alone was not a consideration, various neatly arranged side dishes were piled up. The meat that had melted in his mouth moments ago now pricked Sehwa’s throat like thorns.

He was so full he felt like he would burst. The general rescued Sehwa, who was gasping for breath, unable to move, from the restaurant and called him foolish. He had told him to eat it all himself. It was incomprehensible why he was angry when he had only done as he ordered. Today, the general was certainly a bit strange.

Anyway, he was about to say that he couldn’t move by car and would go to the pharmacy. He ignored Sehwa, who called out “Hey” several times, and walked away with large strides. The employee who had pulled the car up in the alley seemed flustered, but Sehwa, who was in his own predicament, had no room to care about others.

Unable to ask where they were going, he diligently followed behind the general and soon came upon a familiar street. It was near Sehwa’s lodging. He had never told him his address, so how did he know? His surprise was brief. It was a foolish question. It was obvious he would have finished investigating him before storming into the house. He probably knew not only his home address but even the number of spoons he owned.

“It must be very dirty since I haven’t been able to come at all…”

He was embarrassed to show his shabby belongings, but the general had told him to take any necessary items while they were out, so he had no choice. It felt like he would never get another chance if not now. More than anything, he wanted to take his underwear, which he seemed to have no intention of providing. And the cash hidden in his wardrobe, even though it was less than a million won. The lock was so flimsy that if the lodging manager knew he had been away for a long time, he might steal it.

“I’ll close the window once the smell clears out a bit.”

Sehwa left the general standing in the narrow hallway and hurried to the window. He opened the dusty window wide and neatly folded the blanket. A cold wind, unbelievable for spring, swept in.

Even though he had asked him to wait, the general abruptly stepped inside as he pleased. As the tall man entered, the studio apartment seemed to fill up. Was the ceiling this low? His own height wasn’t that short…

“Couldn’t you just wait outside for a moment…”

Unable to bear the embarrassment, words he hadn’t intended to say flowed out smoothly. It was a habit Sehwa didn’t even know he had. Perhaps it was because customers would reprimand him if he stayed silent, so he had unconsciously developed this habit.

Whether Sehwa chatted or not, the general merely surveyed the modest furnishings with an uninspired gaze. In his eyes, it might seem insignificant, but such a private room was only granted after becoming a manager-level player.

“You smoke too?”

He thought, “He doesn’t listen to anyone anyway, so I’ll just do my own thing.” He opened the plastic wardrobe and rummaged through usable clothes, when he, who had approached the window, asked in disbelief.

“Smoking doesn’t suit you.”

“…I’m celebrating Coming-of-Age Day this year.”

“…What?”

He had replied meaning he was twenty-one, old enough to smoke, but the general looked stunned, as if he had been slapped, and merely stroked his chin. He mumbled “Coming-of-Age Day…” several times.

“…I was more of a piece of trash than I thought.”

The general, suddenly steeped in self-reproach, rummaged through a thin cigarette pack. And then he repeated “Coming-of-Age Day” once more.

Sehwa got up and picked up the lighter placed on the ashtray. This, too, was a habit, if anything. It was something he naturally did for customers or superiors who were holding cigarettes. Shielding the wind with one hand, he lit the lighter, and the general, after gazing at the precarious flame for a moment, slowly bent his upper body. Click. The sound of the cigarette burning was crisp. The light from the billboard of the building opposite reflected on the general’s face, half-blurred with dark colors.

A cold wind swept into his oversized top. The general’s uncombed hair fluttered in the breeze. The cigarette smoke vanished as soon as it was exhaled, as if dancing. It was weather where it wouldn’t be strange for a heavy snowfall, let alone flowers blooming.

“…He said to give you some breathing room.”

His words, casually uttered after staring blankly outside for a long time, were quite unexpected. Sehwa, who was fiddling with his tacky lighter engraved with his nickname “March Boy” (March), tilted his head slightly, wondering if he was talking to him.

“If you plan to keep using him, give him room to breathe so he doesn’t break down.”

The general just puffed on his cigarette. As if to say he would overlook his current melancholy, borrowing that advice.

“…Me? To me?”

“Then, damn it, who else is here besides you?”

Sehwa, a little bewildered, stole a glance at the man’s profile as he smoked. So, saying he would tell him about his parents, suddenly taking him to a meat restaurant and grilling all the pork belly for him, and telling him to eat it all alone because he would leave the table… Was he trying to make him feel better in his own way?

Perhaps interpreting Sehwa’s intense gaze, the general pulled out a cigarette and offered it to him. Sehwa, bewildered, took the cheap cigarette and put it in his mouth. The flint flashed once more. An orange circle formed in the general’s eyes as he turned to look at him. Sehwa’s image, holding the cigarette within the fading flame’s outline, was etched like a tattoo.

As he inhaled deeply and exhaled the smoke, the discomfort from overeating seemed to subside a little. It had been a while since he had smoked, having been confined to the office.

He was concentrating on inhaling until his cheeks hollowed, when suddenly his cheek stung. The general was silently watching Sehwa smoke. Sehwa also exhaled a long stream of smoke, his eyes fixed on the general’s tightly closed lips. If he were to open his mouth now, he felt words of a different color and temperature than before would flow out.

“…General, sir.”

Sehwa scraped together every bit of courage hidden deep within him and barely called him. His instincts, honed by countless gambles, whispered. “Now. It has to be now.”

“I smoke too… and I curse well.”

“……”

“…And I don’t cry easily.”

“Where are you lying?”

“It’s true. Everyone used to curse me behind my back, saying I was annoying because my expression never changed.”

Nonsensical words poured out. He didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, but something was so full inside him that he couldn’t swallow any more words. He felt like he would burst if someone poked him, so Sehwa decided to blurt out whatever came to mind.

The general had specifically mentioned, in front of him, that someone had advised him to give him some breathing room. Sehwa decided to interpret that as him being willing to overlook him crossing the line today. So…

“…General, sir.”

He, dressed in comfortable clothes instead of his usual sharp suit, was smoking in his tiny room. Although he didn’t reply, he didn’t reprimand him for calling him without a purpose.

“From now on, no matter what you call me, I won’t talk back and will do whatever you tell me to, General.”

“……”

“Feel free to call me anything. ‘Hole,’ or ‘cock… house’… because I am all of that…”

“……”

“I don’t know how to be cute, but I won’t be impudent like last time, in the bunker… but…”

The general’s blade-like words, thrown at him, seemed to remain forever in a corner of his heart, like perpetual snow. The time in the bunker, when he had cried and nodded, saying he liked it even though he knew he was being treated roughly, the time he had refused a kiss and was called a whore, his wrist twisted behind his back, still lingered in Sehwa’s mind like a nightmare.

However, if his quiet grilling of the meat just now, and his repeated restraint from yelling, were his way of signaling something to him…

Then Sehwa wanted to confirm. To what extent he would tolerate. And how much courage he could muster. From the moment he regained consciousness today and faced the general’s face, a cowardly desire to urge him not to do it again slowly began to surface. It was a pathetic conviction that only swelled after he had laid the groundwork, promising not to harm him.

“My name… I’d prefer you not call it that. It makes me too sad. Of course, my feelings aren’t something you need to care about, General, but still…”

He didn’t even wish for an apology. Such a thing wasn’t even possible given their statuses. It didn’t matter now if the general called him “you,” or “honey,” or “March Boy.” Even being called Lee Sehwa… yes, that was fine. He just hoped he wouldn’t use it as a clear means of mockery, as he had in the bunker. That was enough. He didn’t wish for anything more from this man. If he would only respect this much. If he would only allow him this line, Sehwa felt he wouldn’t break down any further than he already had. He felt he could endure it from now on.

“…Thank you for buying me dinner today.”

And instead of bowing and apologizing for refusing to eat with him, he carefully chose words of gratitude. Someone might scoff and ask what the difference was, but it was Sehwa’s last bit of pride that he wanted to protect.

“It was delicious. Really…”

The end of his voice trembled slightly. He couldn’t guarantee his reaction. He might even burn his eyes with the cigarette he held in his hand.

The general, however, only looked down at Sehwa with eyes as black as night, unreadable in emotion. The white steam from his breath, rising from the cold, was unusually long.

“…Open your mouth.”

“……”

“Open your mouth.”

At least he didn’t seem to intend to flick cigarette ash onto Sehwa’s tongue; he stubbed out the butt in the ashtray and commanded briefly. Was he going to kiss him…?

“……”

Sehwa lowered his gaze and obediently opened his lips. The general’s impossibly long eyelashes tickled his cheek. Acrid, cheap cigarette smoke flowed into the gap between their touching lips. It was a kiss that seemed to test Sehwa’s earlier resolve that he would do anything as long as he didn’t play with his name. Refusing his kiss in the bunker seemed to have left a strong impression on the general.

“Give me your arm.”

The general flicked his fingers, taking the cigarette dangling from Sehwa’s hand. When he obediently extended it, both his wrists were immediately seized, and their fingers intertwined like vines. Sehwa instinctively flinched. He wanted to act as nonchalant as possible… but his shoulders kept trembling. Fear and sadness that had lost their target and purpose, and a childish desire to simply whine, all tangled and surged within him.

“…Uh, ungh…”

A cold wind that reddened the tip of his nose blew, cigarette ash like sleet fluttered down, faint streetlights turned on beyond the alley, and the man’s dry lips swallowed Sehwa whole.

The kiss that resumed, as if rewarding him for enduring well, was not rough. This time, he didn’t twist his wrists. He just held them firmly, as if to prevent him from going anywhere.

The general gave no reply. But Sehwa felt as if he had already heard his answer: that he wouldn’t act cruelly like before.