Projection Novel (Completed) - Chapter 47

As silence enveloped him, a slow anger brewed within. He had known for a long time that the survival rate for pancreatic cancer was very low. But now that it was a reality, he couldn’t understand why such an innocent and kind person had to suffer. There were so many people who deserved to die….

“Why, of all people….”

He muttered a small curse and weakly leaned his head on the steering wheel. Something welled up, threatening to erupt like blood. Cheon Sejoo took a deep, difficult breath, barely suppressing his rage.

The world was full of incomprehensible things anyway. Has there ever been any understandable twists and turns in his own life? He let out a resigned sigh, closing his eyes tightly before opening them again. Sejin was waiting. There was no time for this. Cheon Sejoo stepped on the accelerator again.

It was rush hour, but fortunately, Kang Junmyeon’s hostess bar wasn’t too far from the hospital. Less than 30 minutes later, he arrived at the underground parking lot, casually tossed the switchblade into the glove compartment, and got out of the car. The moment he stepped into the empty elevator, he caught sight of his reflection in the clean door and bit his lip.

When Cheon Sejoo went undercover, his hat, coat, pants, and shoes were all black. This was so that blood wouldn’t show if he harmed someone. Normally, he wouldn’t care about his attire, but today, he found it unbearable.

The corpse of the man who had died at his hands a few days ago, and the smell of blood, flickered before his eyes. As Sejin’s cries overlapped with it, he felt a terrible self-loathing for wearing black. It felt as if he was inviting death.

Suddenly, Cheon Sejoo’s face distorted. As soon as he arrived at the first-floor lobby connected to the cancer center, he took off his jacket and hat and threw them into the nearest trash can. The clothes he wore underneath were a white short-sleeved shirt, but that was better than looking like he was going to a funeral. He headed to the ward, dressed inappropriately for the season.

He got back into the elevator going up to the cancer center, and finally, when he got off at the designated floor. Cheon Sejoo stopped dead in his tracks at the somber sight of a figure in the hallway leading to Kim Hyunkyung’s hospital room.

Sejin sat on a chair in front of the room, hunched over with his elbows on his thighs. His face, hanging down towards the floor, was obscured by his falling hair, so his expression couldn’t be seen. Only the drops of water, trickling down between his legs onto the smooth hospital flooring, forming a small puddle, were visible.

Sejin was crying, but it felt like his own heart was tearing apart. Cheon Sejoo swallowed hard, walked towards Sejin, and called his name.

“…Kwon Sejin.”

At the familiar voice, Sejin slowly raised his head.

His cheeks were drenched. His swollen eyes were so red they looked as if they would bleed if touched, and the bite marks on his lips from trying to hold back tears were starkly visible. His disheveled hair was soaked with sweat. Sejin looked up at Cheon Sejoo, who approached him with a feverish face.

“……”

His lips parted as if to say something. Then, meeting Cheon Sejoo’s warm eyes, which seemed to understand his sorrow without a word, he burst into tears. Streaks of tears traced paths down his cheeks. A large hand wiped his face.

“…It’s okay.”

A low voice echoed in the hallway. Cheon Sejoo knelt down on the spot and hugged Sejin. Sejin’s body, which had grown taller than him at some point, rested in his arms without resistance. Sejin burrowed into Cheon Sejoo’s embrace like a child unaware of his size, weeping bitterly.

The elevated inflammation levels were not gastritis but a prelude to metastasis.

Vascular invasion had already progressed significantly, and cancer cells had spread throughout her entire body, including her liver and peritoneum. At this point, it had to be assumed that microscopic metastasis had begun from the time she was first diagnosed with cancer. It was unavoidable because cancer masses below a certain size could not be detected by any method.

Pancreatic cancer metastasis meant Stage 4, or terminal stage. The hospital decided that further treatment would be meaningless and gave them the choice to continue chemotherapy or move to the hospice ward. Sejin couldn’t accept that fact.

“It doesn’t make sense for this to happen in just a month…. Last month, they clearly said chemotherapy was effective, and now they’re saying this. It’s all lies. It’s ridiculous, this is….”

Sejin, who was tightly hugging his neck, mumbled in a sobbing voice. The afternoon when he had asked unknown questions via message felt like a very long time ago. Sejin kept repeating the same words, like someone whose world had collapsed. He said the situation was absurd, that he couldn’t believe it. Cheon Sejoo felt the same way. He didn’t want to deny the facts, but to deny reality itself. He just wished it was all a dream.

However, it was clear that all this tragedy was real, and Cheon Sejoo and Sejin had to accept that fact in sorrow. It was two hours later that Sejin stopped crying. By then, it was time for everyone to be asleep, and there was no one in the hallway. Unable to bear watching Sejin intermittently sobbing and trembling, Cheon Sejoo took him to the unlit lounge. There, he took out a cup of vending machine milk and put it in Sejin’s hand.

“Drink this.”

“…And you?”

His voice was wet and drawn out. Sejin still looked up at Cheon Sejoo with tear-filled eyes. The paper cup cupped in his hands felt incredibly small. Cheon Sejoo took an empty cup to double-cup it so Sejin wouldn’t burn his hands, then stroked Sejin’s head.

“I’ll just go to the room for a moment.”

“Okay…”

He left the lounge and walked quietly towards Kim Hyunkyung’s hospital room. From the hallway, the lights in the room were off. As Cheon Sejoo slowly opened the door and stepped inside, the caregiver, who was lying on the guardian’s bed using her phone, raised her head.

“You’re here,” she greeted softly, then pointed to the deeply sleeping Kim Hyunkyung.

“She fell asleep right after fighting with Sejin.”

At her whispered words, Cheon Sejoo gave a bitter smile. It was obvious why they had fought. At the mention that further treatment might be meaningless, Kim Hyunkyung must have immediately chosen the hospice ward. And Sejin would never have accepted that.

But Cheon Sejoo, who knew roughly the lives of terminal pancreatic cancer patients, wanted to side with Kim Hyunkyung. Even with chemotherapy now, the cancer cells spread throughout her body couldn’t be eliminated. Any more chemotherapy would only slow the spread of cancer cells in Kim Hyunkyung’s body, merely delaying death. From the patient’s perspective, it was nothing more than repeating a meaningless and painful process.

Death was now unavoidable. …Sejin would eventually be left alone.

Even Kim Hyunkyung’s death ultimately led to thoughts of Sejin. Cheon Sejoo tried to clear his cluttered mind, went to the closet, and picked up Sejin’s outer clothes. He said goodbye to the caregiver and left the room.

When he returned to the lounge, Sejin had emptied the paper cup and was staring blankly out the window. Sitting alone in the moonlight, he looked incredibly lonely. Knowing that Sejin would also experience what he had gone through, Cheon Sejoo couldn’t bear to watch his back any longer and approached him.

“Your mom’s asleep. Let’s go home for now. I’ll bring you back tomorrow morning.”

“…Okay.”

Sejin got up from his seat. Cheon Sejoo helped him put on his clothes. He guided his arms into the thick jumper and they left the lounge. He gave a brief nod to the nurses sitting at the station and took the elevator down.

The car was in the parking lot, but the jacket with the lingering smell of blood and the knife were inside. Cheon Sejoo, not wanting to put Sejin in that car, led him to the main hospital lobby and explained.

“I was elsewhere and couldn’t bring the car. Let’s take a taxi. I’ll call one, come out when it arrives, it’s cold outside.”

“…….”

Saying that, Cheon Sejoo pulled up the zipper of Sejin’s outer jacket all the way to his neck, as Sejin stood there as if lost. The cold air of the November night was biting. To prevent Sejin from catching a cold, he even pulled up the hood on his back and took out his phone.

Sejin stared blankly at Cheon Sejoo’s back as he called a taxi and walked out of the lobby. He saw the glass door open and close heavily with the wind blowing in from outside. A sudden gust of cold wind that seeped through the gap made Sejin come to his senses a little.

“…….”

His tightly clenched palms ached. The paper cup Cheon Sejoo had given him was crumpled in his hand. Sejin realized he had carried the trash all the way to the first floor and looked around. Just as he spotted a large trash can in front of the elevator and was about to throw the paper cup into it, a dark-glowing black coat inside caught Sejin’s attention.

He didn’t know why he did it. Perhaps it was because, even in his distracted state, the fact that Cheon Sejoo wasn’t wearing his outer coat was faintly imprinted in his mind. Sejin reached out, forgetting the coat was in the trash can.

The dull fabric wrapped around his palm. The neat sleeves felt familiar somehow. Picking it up, Sejin, as if mesmerized, held the entirely black garment to his nose. A sweet scent mixed with bitter tobacco captured Sejin. It was Cheon Sejoo’s scent. Standing rigidly, he turned his head towards the outside.

Late at night, Cheon Sejoo stood by the hospital lobby, illuminated by streetlights, smoking a cigarette. Against the backdrop of the orange glow of the burning tobacco and the white smoke escaping from between his lips, the man was dressed in a short-sleeved shirt, unsuited for the season. Sejin alternated glances between his seemingly lonely back and the winter clothes in his hand.

His heart, which had felt hollowed out by the news of the metastasis, a death sentence, now felt filled by Cheon Sejoo. Sejin buried his nose in Cheon Sejoo’s clothes and gazed at him standing alone in the darkness.

Somehow, Sejin felt he could no longer imagine a life without him. Whenever his life seemed to hit rock bottom, Cheon Sejoo unhesitatingly offered him a hand. Once, perhaps twice, Sejin had pushed his hand away, but despite that, Cheon Sejoo still reached out to Sejin again in moments of despair.

Now, Sejin didn’t want to let go of Cheon Sejoo’s hand, which he had grasped. The comforting embrace that whispered it was okay, the gentle voice implying that all storms would eventually pass. He didn’t want to lose it. Sejin liked Cheon Sejoo.

But at the same time, he felt ashamed of feeling such emotions at that moment. His mother was dying day by day, yet he, blinded by love, was thrilled by Cheon Sejoo’s consideration, making him feel like the most pathetic person in the world.

“……”

Just then, the headlights of a car approaching the lobby in the distance stung Sejin’s eyes. The pain alerted Sejin that the taxi had arrived. He threw the jacket he was holding back into the trash can and turned around. Cheon Sejoo, who had also spotted the taxi, turned his back and motioned for him to come out.

As he opened the door to leave the lobby, a fierce wind, strong enough to make his shoulders hunch, swept past him. The cold that Cheon Sejoo must have endured as a gesture of consideration was so biting it brought tears to his eyes. Sejin, who had stopped in his tracks for a moment, unhesitatingly took off the jumper Cheon Sejoo had made him wear. Then, he draped the jacket over Cheon Sejoo’s shoulders, who was standing by the car door. Cheon Sejoo’s frowning gaze turned to Sejin.

“What are you doing?”

“…I’m hot. You wear it.”

Saying that, he got into the car. As he went inside, warm heater air flowed towards him. Cheon Sejoo sat next to him, and as the taxi started, the faint sound of the radio and the engine noise moved like wind between them. Sejin vaguely listened to the radio DJ talking about first love and stretched out his arm. He clasped Cheon Sejoo’s hand, which was resting on the seat.

At that small touch, Cheon Sejoo’s quiet gaze landed on their clasped hands, then settled on the gaunt area around Sejin’s cheek. Sejin turned his gaze to meet Cheon Sejoo’s eyes.

“…It’s okay.”

After a moment of silent staring, Cheon Sejoo spoke. Sejin also repeated inwardly, ‘It’s okay. I deserve this much comfort….’ Not wanting to feel guilty about the feelings that had arisen in the worst possible situation, Sejin overlaid the name ‘comfort’ onto his feelings of liking Cheon Sejoo.

After being diagnosed with cancer metastasis, Kim Hyunkyung’s condition deteriorated day by day. Despite Sejin’s pleas, Kim Hyunkyung wished to stop chemotherapy, so there was nothing they could do.

At a stage where treatment was impossible, for a patient with terminal pancreatic cancer, every single day was a path towards death. As she began to experience severe abdominal pain, the dosage of morphine increased rapidly, and with it, symptoms of delirium began to appear.

What started as briefly sitting blankly gradually began to affect her memory. By early November, Kim Hyunkyung often didn’t recognize Sejin. She didn’t know who she was or what this place was, but she felt great anxiety when Sejin wasn’t by her side. Because of this, Sejin stopped going to school and began to stay by Kim Hyunkyung’s side with the caregiver whenever she was awake.

“He’s your sister’s son. Our Sejin! He’s so handsome like his aunt, and so popular!”

Sejin couldn’t say anything in front of his mother, who didn’t recognize him, but the caregiver nonchalantly introduced Sejin to her. She was too used to such things to be saddened by someone else’s misfortune.

“You have to keep telling her. It’s because of the medicine, so don’t be too upset.”

Nevertheless, Sejin couldn’t explain who he was to Kim Hyunkyung. It was too difficult and painful for Sejin to explain to her that she was his mother.

So when Kim Hyunkyung forgot him, Sejin would leave. He’d go into the restroom or step into the hallway, swallowing his tears, and call Cheon Sejoo. ‘It’s not okay at all.’ Yet, when he heard Cheon Sejoo’s comforting voice, telling him it was okay, even though he knew things would only get worse, he would fall into the illusion that everything would get better. It was an illusion that shattered the moment he hung up the phone and entered the hospital room, but thanks to Cheon Sejoo, Sejin was able to get through the day.

On November 17th, two days before the Suneung (college entrance exam). It was an unseasonably rainy day, and due to hypoxemia caused by respiratory distress, medical staff constantly moved in and out of Kim Hyunkyung’s room. Fluid had accumulated in her lungs due to cancer cells invading them, leading to breathing difficulties. Cheon Sejoo endured a headache and stood watching them treat Kim Hyunkyung. From that day on, Kim Hyunkyung had a nasal cannula connected to an oxygen generator.

Sejin couldn’t cope with the changes in his mother, who was becoming visibly sicker day by day. Her appearance, growing thinner by the day because she couldn’t eat properly, was agonizing even for Cheon Sejoo to see, so it must have been even worse for Sejin.

“……”

Cheon Sejoo didn’t ask Sejin, who was sitting silently in the lounge, if he could go take the Suneung. There was always something most important. Now, the Suneung was no longer important.

Thus, November passed. Day by day, the end of the year approached in the form of death.

As December arrived, Kim Hyunkyung became increasingly sleepy. She spent most of the day asleep, and when she was awake, she would stare blankly into space due to delirium. There weren’t many times when she was fully lucid. If Sejin was lucky, he might hear Kim Hyunkyung call his name, “Sejin-ah,” about once a day.

And on days when she didn’t look for Sejin at all, he would visit Cheon Sejoo’s bedroom late at night.

Knock, knock. At the soft knock, Cheon Sejoo, who had been lying blankly on the bed, raised his eyelids. As he got up, the loose gown he was wearing slipped down silently. Cheon Sejoo grabbed the belt, re-tied his gown, and approached the door.

“……”

When he opened the door, Sejin stood there. Sejin, who had been by Kim Hyunkyung’s side, watching her painful process, had also grown much thinner over the past month from not eating properly. Just as Kim Hyunkyung’s condition had worsened rapidly, so had Sejin’s. Cheon Sejoo looked up at his eyes, which now looked more sensitive as his baby fat had disappeared, and opened the door wide.

“Come in.”

It started when he found Sejin curled up on the sofa all night, unable to sleep. Since that day, Cheon Sejoo had willingly offered his embrace to help Sejin sleep.

“Come this way.”

Sejin, who had slept with his mother until middle school when he was much smaller, longed for human comfort when he was sick or scared. After Kim Hyunkyung moved to the hospice ward, he developed a pathological aversion to silence, becoming so sensitive that he could only sleep if he heard even the slightest breath.

Cheon Sejoo opened his arms to Sejin, who was now taller than him. Kwon Sejin didn’t hesitate, resting his head on Cheon Sejoo’s arm and burying his face in Cheon Sejoo’s chest.

Small breaths filled the room. When he was with Sejin, Cheon Sejoo also felt a sense of stability. On days when he was consumed by anxiety, unable to leave Sejin to meet Doyoon, Sejin’s warmth instead saved him from suffocating. Of course, that body heat alone could never fundamentally erase his torment, but the mere fact that Sejin relied so deeply on him gave Cheon Sejoo the strength to endure. As long as Sejin depended on him, he couldn’t show any weakness.

“It’s okay.”

Patting Sejin’s back, Cheon Sejoo always said the same thing. That everything would be okay. That it would get better…. Since Cheon Sejoo himself hadn’t been okay even five years after Hyein’s death, his words were perhaps more like a wish and a plea. ‘I’m not okay, but you will be. I was alone, but you have me by your side.’ That’s what he wished for.

As time passed and Christmas approached, Cheon Sejoo instinctively felt that all of this was coming to an end. Kim Hyunkyung, whose abdomen was swollen with ascites, could no longer breathe properly without an oxygen mask. Nearly 1 liter of phlegm was suctioned out daily, and she couldn’t even sit up straight without the help of a caregiver.

Compared to a year ago, she was barely recognizable as the same person. She was emaciated, her hair was patchy, and her elegant, sensitive face had a yellowish pallor. It was difficult to understand what she was trying to express because she couldn’t articulate herself properly.

As Kim Hyunkyung’s end drew nearer, Sejin also struggled. He tried to act normal in front of her, but the moment he left the hospital room, Sejin crumbled like a child.

Watching him sit there, silently shedding tears, made Cheon Sejoo wish he could give his own life for hers. It was unbearable to see Sejin, who had never been disheartened by anything, lose hope to such an extent. He always wanted to be with Sejin, but he couldn’t. Cheon Sejoo had matters he simply couldn’t let go of.

December 26th. Seo Jinyeong spotted Kang Junmyeon and Jason Lee secretly meeting in Hong Kong. Shin Gyoyeon then ordered Kang Junmyeon’s immediate arrest upon his return to Korea, and Cheon Sejoo and his team spent the day planning to capture Kang Junmyeon. The date for the big operation was set for January 4th.

December 27th. Recently, Sejin had been staying at the hospital. He also knew that Kim Hyunkyung didn’t have much time left, so he wanted to stay by her side until the very end.

Upon arriving at the corridor where the hospital room was located, a strange yet familiar air enveloped his entire body. Dry air, heavy silence. Shadows lay in various parts of the dimly lit corridor, hinting at someone’s impending death. Cheon Sejoo turned his head upon seeing that the hospital room next to Kim Hyunkyung’s, which had been full just a few days ago, was now empty. A bad premonition pierced him all over.

“…No, I’m bigger than Chief Cheon now.”

“Didn’t you steal all of Chief’s side dishes?”

Standing in front of the hospital room, he heard muffled voices chatting inside. Cheon Sejoo peered through the small window in the door. Kim Hyunkyung, wearing a knitted hat and a nasal cannula, was laughing and talking with Sejin. Kim Hyunkyung, being lucid, was a rare sight even for Cheon Sejoo, making her appearance quite unfamiliar.

Kwon Sejin was, unusually, smiling. Cheon Sejoo had rarely seen such a beautiful smile on his face in over a year, but in front of Kim Hyunkyung, he smiled easily. Sejin’s smile was like moonlight illuminating a path on a deep night. Like a full moon with a soft glow, Sejin’s smile had the power to captivate people’s attention.

Cheon Sejoo hesitated, unable to easily enter. He didn’t want to disrupt the happy time between mother and son. He didn’t want to be the intruder who disturbed the long-awaited peace. But while he hesitated, Sejin spotted him. Instantly, Sejin’s eyes sparkled and shone. Seeing an even brighter smile spread across his lips than before, Cheon Sejoo swallowed a bitter laugh. What was he doing, smiling like that? He swallowed his reprimand and opened the door.

“Chief!”

Kim Hyunkyung, who had spotted him, greeted him with a smile. Cheon Sejoo returned her smile and waved to Sejin. Sejin, who had wiped away his smile, nodded with a somewhat shy expression. Cheon Sejoo chuckled, thinking, ‘Of course,’ and stepped inside.

Meanwhile, Kim Hyunkyung squinted her eyes, scanned Cheon Sejoo, and then chastised Sejin.

“Kwon Sejin. I think you did steal Chief’s food, didn’t you? Don’t do that.”

“No. Cheon Sejoo doesn’t eat well normally.”

Kim Hyunkyung also knew about her delirium, so she didn’t say things like “It’s been a long time” or “How have you been?” However, at her nonchalant comment implying he had lost weight, Cheon Sejoo smiled and rubbed his cheek. He defended Sejin.

“I haven’t been able to eat properly lately because I’ve been busy with work. It’s not Sejin’s fault.”

“Look at that.”

“Really?”

They didn’t seem to care, but it wasn’t a conversation to have in front of Kim Hyunkyung, who was almost skin and bones. Cheon Sejoo smiled silently, went to the window, and sat in the remaining chair. He placed the snacks he had brought on the table and asked.

“Where’s Seonhee?”

“She went to the convenience store and cafe downstairs for a bit. Mom wanted coffee. Cheon Sejoo, do you want coffee too? Should I ask her to buy one for you?”

Sejin busily replied to his question. He subtly glanced sideways and saw that Kim Hyunkyung seemed confused about who Seonhee was. She blinked, then pulled up the corners of her mouth and looked around. Cheon Sejoo gently patted Sejin’s waist to prevent him from seeing that, replied that it was okay, and then checked Sejin’s condition. He seemed to be in a good mood. Today was the best he had looked recently.

“Ah. Seonhee! She just went downstairs to the first floor. She didn’t even take her phone. Sejin-ah, you hurry and go buy one for Chief too. Quickly, run before she comes back.”

Fortunately, Kim Hyunkyung seemed to regain her composure, smiling weakly as she urged Sejin on. Sejin rose from his seat, looking down at her with a hesitant expression, then glanced at Cheon Sejoo before stepping out. Thud-thud. The sound of footsteps echoed softly in the quiet hallway, growing distant, and silence once again enveloped the hospital room.

Cheon Sejoo leaned back in his chair, looking up at Kim Hyunkyung. Her hollowed cheeks, skin jaundiced and yellow, chapped and parched lips, an oxygen tube beneath her prominent nose, and IV drips dangling from her arm.

Now, he couldn’t read Sejin in her face. Cheon Sejoo clenched his fist, recalling Kim Hyunkyung who had smiled so nonchalantly in front of him last summer. Regret always came suddenly, plunging him into despair.

What if he had gone to the hospital that day? What if, even the following month, he had suspected her sudden abdominal pain and weight changes, and gotten an MRI? Perhaps it wouldn’t have come to this. At that time, the metastasis might not have even begun, and by now, Kim Hyunkyung might have successfully completed chemotherapy, discharged, and returned to her daily life. Sejin would have trusted that her situation would improve, taken the Suneung with peace of mind, and by now, perhaps been looking into universities or preparing for re-admission, planning his future.

But he had missed all those opportunities. He had missed the chance to care for the person most precious to Sejin…

Sudden, overwhelming regret choked him. Water rising to his throat, obstructing his breath. Cheon Sejoo tightly clenched his trembling fingertips, closing his eyes. Thinking these thoughts now, it’s all meaningless. He was trying to calm himself with such a mantra when—

“…I actually knew.”

Kim Hyunkyung’s weak voice tore through his thoughts.

“That…”

What on earth did she mean? Cheon Sejoo stared at Kim Hyunkyung with a vacant gaze. Her lifeless eyes met his. She sat with a faint smile playing on her lips. Soon, that smile gradually faded, and at some point, Kim Hyunkyung turned her head with a bitter expression. The hazy winter sunlight streamed down on the city. Kim Hyunkyung spoke, her gaze fixed on the gray sky.

“Last summer, I think, I stopped by the hospital because I had severe gastritis. I’ve had chronic abdominal pain since I was little. I thought it was just gastritis again and went, but after hearing my story, the doctor recommended an ultrasound.”

“…”

“Sejin doesn’t know… but my father passed away from pancreatic cancer. So, when the doctor heard that, he suspected a family history and said it would be good to get an ultrasound. I did, and at that time, the doctor said that the ultrasound didn’t show it clearly, but it seemed like there was something around my liver or other organs, and told me to go to a bigger hospital.”

Cheon Sejoo clenched his fist, a pained expression on his face. Veins bulged on the back of his hand, and his lowered gaze hardened.

If that doctor had seen correctly, it was probably an early pancreatic tumor. Diagnosing pancreatic cancer with just an abdominal ultrasound was almost impossible, and finding it in its early stages was like a miracle. This was because, unless the cancer occurred in the head of the pancreas, pancreatic cancer usually showed almost no symptoms until it was close to stage 3.

“But then I got scared. What if it was cancer? I didn’t want to end up like my dad… My father passed away when I was in middle school, and the treatment costs from his chemotherapy were enormous. My mom worked day and night because of that debt and passed away in an accident a year later. But if this was cancer, I’d have to get treatment… And if I died, Sejin would have to pay all that debt.”

But due to poverty, Kim Hyunkyung missed that miraculous moment. If she had gotten an MRI immediately, proceeded with a biopsy, and started treatment, she would have been perfectly fine by now. Without money, afraid of debt, she let go of a heaven-sent opportunity without even trying to grasp it.

His head felt hot. Cheon Sejoo couldn’t answer her words, only kept his mouth shut. The more he listened to Kim Hyunkyung’s story, the more he regretted brushing off the incident when she collapsed that early summer. Even if Kim Hyunkyung hadn’t dared to get tested due to money, if he had known, such a thing wouldn’t have happened.

“So I just pretended not to know. I thought if no one knew, and I just suffered alone and died, at least there would be death benefits. That way, I wouldn’t burden Sejin…”

Her voice, the person directly involved, held no lingering regrets. Her attitude seemed to indicate she didn’t regret her decision not to get tested despite the doctor’s recommendation last summer. However, Cheon Sejoo bitterly regretted the lost opportunity. This was because he was watching Sejin fall apart as her death approached.

“When I saw my father back then, at the terminal stage, all treatments were useless. He used every medicine, even new drugs, but only suffered side effects and passed away in agony. He must have wanted to live, right? He must have.”

Kim Hyunkyung sighed deeply after saying that much, forcing a smile. Then, looking at Cheon Sejoo, she confessed.

“Honestly, it’s the same for me. Why wouldn’t I want to see Sejin grow up, live happily with someone he loves? But I don’t want Sejin to see me like that. New drugs and all, struggling to live only to die in pain, it’s too miserable for a child to watch. Rather than that, it’s better to just wait and go, thinking, ‘I’d rather die.’ Then, at least, Sejin will think I met the death I wanted.”

“…Don’t say such things…”

With that one squeezed-out sentence, Kim Hyunkyung reached out a hand like dry kindling. She weakly gripped Cheon Sejoo’s clenched fist. Her skin was rough and lifeless, yet still warm. Kim Hyunkyung then addressed Cheon Sejoo.

“Thank you for not telling Sejin about me collapsing that day, Director. Even if Sejin had known that day, I wouldn’t have gone to the hospital, and if that were the case, when things ended up like this, Sejin would have felt a lot of guilt. At that time, it was probably… already too late. So… thank you.”