Projection Novel (Completed) - Chapter 50

When Sejin woke up, it was just past 6 AM. Opening his eyes in the dark room, he checked his phone by his head and sprang up. Four hours of sleep, he couldn’t believe it. Sejin went into the bathroom connected to the room, washed his face, and tidied himself up. Then he opened the door and peeked his head out towards the mourning hall.

He saw Cheon Sejoo sitting upright at the chief mourner’s seat. He must have been tired too, yet Cheon Sejoo looked perfectly composed, as if he had just arrived at the funeral home.

Sejin stared at Cheon Sejoo, who sat with his eyes gently closed, before stepping outside. Sensing his presence, Cheon Sejoo slowly lifted his eyelids. Undisguised fatigue lingered in his cool eyes. Sejin approached Cheon Sejoo and quickly helped him to his feet.

“Go in and sleep quickly. I’m fine now.” 

“You eat first.” 

“I can eat later.” 

“Eat now.”

Cheon Sejoo was resolute. In the end, Sejin decided it was better to listen to Cheon Sejoo than to argue, so he nodded and quickly moved to the dining hall. Kim Sunhee and the funeral assistants happened to be having breakfast.

“Sejin, you’re awake. Come quickly. Let’s eat together.” Kim Sunhee, who spotted him, rose from her seat and headed to the kitchen. Sejin quickly finished his breakfast, sandwiched between them. He then rushed to the bathroom to brush his teeth before returning to the mourning hall.

“I’ve finished eating. Go in.” 

“Okay.”

Cheon Sejoo gave a small smile and immediately stood up. But before going into the room, he helped Sejin stand up, straightened his tie and clothes, and only then turned back. Sejin, left alone in the empty mourning hall, leaned against the wall and hugged his knees. He buried his face in his knees in that position, and after a long while, he turned his head.

His vacant gaze fixed on the flower arrangements. For the first time since arriving at the funeral home, Sejin saw his mother’s portrait.

He still couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that the person who seemed ready to smile and call him “my son” at any moment had now crossed a river from which there was no return. Sejin bit his lip tightly to hold back the endlessly rising tears. He raised his hand and pressed his temples, gazing at Kim Hyunkyung, buried in flowers.

Regret kept welling up. He wished he had paid more attention to his mother when he was at Ihwagak, wished he had asked if she was hurting anywhere, wished he hadn’t gotten annoyed when she was in the hospital, wished he hadn’t fought when she refused treatment. Almost every moment he had overlooked remained as regret for him.

And resentment kept bubbling up. What had driven an innocent woman to her death? Sejin repeatedly replayed and delved into the past. The most hated person was his father and Kim Hyunkyung’s husband, Kwon Yongbeom. Sejin couldn’t contain his rage at the thought that his mother wouldn’t have left like this if it weren’t for that man. When he thought of his ailing mother, tears would fall, but when he thought of Kwon Yongbeom, a murderous impulse would rise. He hated that man so much he vowed he’d strangle him to death if he were in front of him.

Next on his list of resentments were the men who had burdened his mother with immense debt. Those repulsive scumbags from Shinsa Capital.

Kwon Yongbeom making Kim Hyunkyung a guarantor was clearly done without her consent. Yet, Shinsa Capital turned a blind eye, and as soon as the repayment date matured, they dragged her to Ihwagak as if they had been waiting.

Even now, the day he parted with his mother was vivid in Sejin’s mind. Kim Hyunkyung, arguing with the first men who came, screaming that she had never stood as guarantor, soon encountered other thugs who arrived in front of their house. They seemed to engage in a war of nerves before breaking into a small fight. In the process, their semi-basement room was ruined and broken, and Kim Hyunkyung burst into tears. But that wasn’t the end of it. The men, having come to a conclusion among themselves, seized Kim Hyunkyung and tried to drag her away.

Sejin rushed at them, screaming for them to release his mother, but the strength of a mother and son was no match for them. “Sejin, Sejin, Mom’s fine, stay home,” Kim Hyunkyung’s voice, comforting him until the very end as she got into the van, made him realize the true meaning of shuddering. Just thinking of that day made his whole body tremble. It was such a miserable and horrific memory.

If there was any good thing about Kim Hyunkyung’s passing, it was that she would never have to endure such things again. He wasn’t sure if she would think the same, as there’s a saying that it’s better to live even in a dung heap, but Sejin certainly thought so.

Sejin gazed at the portrait, trying to recall a healthy Kim Hyunkyung. The many days his mother was ill had overwritten too many memories, making it surprisingly difficult to remember her healthy self. He stared intently at the portrait, trying to recall the day it was taken. It was probably… the day they went to see an early morning movie on a weekend and then took a walk in Olympic Park. What movie was it, Sejin wondered, as he tried to trace his memories.

“Hey, hey, aren’t you going to be polite? Polite.”

Someone’s rough voice came from outside. Was it a mourner? Sejin, who had been sitting vacantly, straightened his posture and turned his head. In front of the mourning hall, at the condolence money reception area, several men stood. Dressed in suits, they were all heavily built. Did his mother know such people? Sejin quietly watched them.

Meanwhile, the men put the envelopes they brought into the box and signed the guestbook. Then, under someone’s direction, they lined up and poured into the mourning hall. Sejin watched the scene blankly. And when he finally remembered where he had seen the bald man standing in front of them, Sejin’s eyes contorted, and he stood up.

It was the man he had seen at Shinsa Capital. The burly men behind him were also those he had seen there, and among them were even those who had directly dragged Kim Hyunkyung to Ihwagak. A sudden, extreme sense of displeasure surged, and fury flared within him.

“Why are you here?”

A chilling voice echoed in the mourning hall. At that, Kim Donggil, who had spotted Sejin, nodded and approached him. Kim Donggil feigned politeness and patted Sejin’s shoulder.

“It’s a pity for such a young one. But your mother must have gone peacefully, so don’t grieve too much.”

At those words, Sejin felt his eyes roll. Peacefully? Kim Hyunkyung had died in agony. Writhing in pain, she cried while numbed by painkillers, passing away without being able to utter a proper “I love you.”

Heat rushed to his head at the words uttered by someone who knew nothing. In a rage that made his vision blurry, he raised his fist. Thump, thump, Sejin shoved Kim Donggil’s shoulder, pushing him away. His furious voice erupted like a scream.

“Get out right now…! Get lost…!”

“Oh my, kid. Did we do it out of a grudge against your mother? We were just working to make a living, so why are you getting angry here? The more people who bow, the more peacefully your mother can go. We’ll be quick, just bear with it.”

However, Kim Donggil did not get angry at Sejin’s attitude. With a bitter smile, he explained their position and spoke to Sejin in a calm, soothing tone. This made Sejin even angrier. It was because Kim Donggil seemed genuinely to be praying for his mother’s response. He didn’t deserve to. They of all people absolutely didn’t deserve to… His heart pounded as if it would burst. The immediate disgust and hatred filled Sejin’s entire body.

“Working to make a living, you say? Who do you think will understand that? My mom, my mom didn’t live like you people, even if she had no money to eat and die!”

The rage that had swelled to his head flowed down like a deep-seated grudge. He tried to hold back by biting his tongue, not wanting to cry, but it was difficult. Sejin’s cheeks became helplessly wet.

“Do you think all poor people make a living in disgusting ways like you? Most people, even if they don’t have a single dollar, wouldn’t think of swindling others! Make a living? Are you proud to spout that?”

While sharp accusations were hurled at them, Sejin’s insides were also crumbling. Even uttering these words was difficult. He didn’t want to understand their circumstances by explaining the obvious. Sejin clenched his fists and shoved Kim Donggil’s shoulder again, chasing him out of the mourning hall.

“Get out! Get lost! My mother died because of you! What right do you have to come here?! We don’t need your condolences!”

Sejin screamed, his voice hoarse. The resentment that had solidified within his heart was flung at the closest target. He wanted to kill them all. The sight of those who preyed on others entering the mourning hall pretending to be ordinary people was nauseating and horrifying.

“Get out of my sight, please!!”

At his desperate cry, uttered like a scream, Kim Donggil scratched his cheek with an embarrassed expression. At that moment, the closed family room door opened, and Cheon Sejoo appeared. His face, soaked in deep fatigue, was chilling. His darkly sunken eyes swept over the gathering. He hardened his expression as he saw the men standing awkwardly frozen.

“What are you doing, you guys?”

Pressure filled his cold voice. Sejin, gasping for breath, turned his head, shocked by the familiar voice. His lips trembled, and his breathing slowed as if time had stopped. His confused gaze turned to Cheon Sejoo.

Ah, he had forgotten. Cheon Sejoo was also one of them.

His heart felt torn by the dizzying realization.

“Brother. I remembered I forgot to bring the payment confirmation yesterday, so I came. On the way, it felt empty with no visitors, so I brought some of the guys… but the kid keeps telling us to leave.”

Sejin bowed his head in despair. He couldn’t face Cheon Sejoo. Sejin, clutching his trembling hands into fists, relentlessly denied reality.

No. They’re not the same. Cheon Sejoo is different from those people. It was those scoundrels who killed Mom. Not Cheon Sejoo. Cheon Sejoo… tried to save Mom. Mom’s death isn’t because of Cheon Sejoo.

The words he repeated to deceive himself echoed in his mind. Tears flowed down his cheeks, dropping onto the floor, drip, drip. “It’s different. It’s different, I tell you…” To Sejin, whispering, Cheon Sejoo’s voice was heard.

“Then what are you doing?”

Sejin bit his lip tightly and raised his head. The one word Cheon Sejoo uttered after a period of silence was what finally made the men, who had been ignoring Sejin’s command to leave and eyeing each other, depart.

“The kid told you to leave.”

It was a statement that left no room for argument. Kim Donggil eventually looked back and forth between Sejin and the portrait, sighed briefly, apologized, and left the mourning hall. As the men disappeared, following Kim Donggil, the tension that had filled the air finally dissipated. Sejin stood there, fists clenched. Despairingly, he looked down at the floor with tear-filled eyes.

The words he had whispered to himself, as if hypnotizing himself, became useless at the sight of them leaving Cheon Sejoo’s single word. It was as if he had directly confirmed that Cheon Sejoo was one of them, and virtually their leader. Feeling miserable at the fact that he had fallen in love with such a man, Sejin raised his head. His eyes, filled with resentment, fixed on the man standing before him.

Cheon Sejoo, however, simply approached him silently and hugged Sejin. Not knowing what he was thinking.

“You…”

A large hand covered his cheek. Rough fingertips wiped away his tears. Sejin finally couldn’t hold back and sobbed.

“I hate you…”

The end of his sentence was drenched. Sejin bowed his head, burying his face in Cheon Sejoo’s neck, and cried.

Why are you so kind, making me love you…?

His heart inflated and deflated repeatedly. Sejin despaired at the fact that Cheon Sejoo was one of the people who brought him misfortune, yet he also felt sad that Cheon Sejoo was the only one extending a hand to save him. Unfairly, he couldn’t even resent him as he wished. To resent Cheon Sejoo was impossible, as he already occupied so much of Sejin’s being. Sejin didn’t want to resent himself.

His gentle hand stroked Sejin’s back. With each stroke of his hand, Sejin tightened his arms around Cheon Sejoo. Yet, he couldn’t let go of Cheon Sejoo. He didn’t want to be separated from him. It was a pathetic gesture.

“Kwon Sejin.”

Just as Sejin seemed to have stopped crying to some extent, Cheon Sejoo spoke. At his quiet voice, Sejin slowly nodded and replied, “Yes.” Then Cheon Sejoo gently pushed Sejin away, distancing himself slightly, and then met his gaze with a detached expression.

“Don’t resent.”

“What…?”

The words he then uttered were unexpected by Sejin. At the incomprehensible words, words that somehow brought a sudden surge of sorrow, Sejin stared blankly at Cheon Sejoo. To such a Sejin, Cheon Sejoo added:

“Everyone dies.”

“…”

It was the first time Cheon Sejoo had directly mentioned Kim Hyunkyung’s death. Sejin couldn’t easily grasp what he was trying to say and bit his lip in confusion. “Surely he’s not taking their side in front of me, is he? You’re not that bad a person, are you…?” This thought flashed through Sejin’s mind.

“It’s no one’s fault. It’s not your fault for not knowing your mother was sick, and it’s not the fault of those people who took your mother to Ihwagak on orders from above.”

“But…!”

“Don’t blame, Sejin. I’m saying this for your sake.”

Cheon Sejoo’s hands gripped Sejin’s trembling shoulders. He knew Cheon Sejoo was trying to calm him down, but he absolutely couldn’t. No one’s fault? How could such a thing be said?

His mother was not someone who should have died so vainly. A person who deserved to live a long and happy life more than anyone else, died suddenly, unable to overcome a sudden illness. Even now, his heart felt so stifled and wronged, how could he not blame anyone?

His heart felt as if it was rotting away. Sejin felt a greater despair now than when he heard Cheon Sejoo say his mother’s collapse was a minor matter. It felt as if Cheon Sejoo was pushing him off a cliff. “You’re the only one reaching out to me…”

He feared the impending fall. Sejin felt his gripped shoulders burning red and opened his mouth.

“How… how can you say such a thing?”

Cheon Sejoo’s eyes narrowed at the words, which held undisguised resentment.

“Of all people, you…!”

His choked voice was full of pain. Cheon Sejoo was now Sejin’s everything. He was the only one Sejin could listen to, so he couldn’t bear him taking someone else’s side. But ignoring Sejin, who was pale as if he might collapse at any moment, Cheon Sejoo’s calm voice continued.

“Think about it carefully. If those bastards hadn’t taken your mother to Ihwagak earlier, would your mother be alive?”

“Of course…!”

“Treatment costs? Living expenses? You know your mother’s personality better, Kwon Sejin. If there hadn’t been treatment costs coming from Ihwagak, do you think your mother would have undergone chemotherapy? Would she have been hospitalized? No, would she even have gotten checked for pain before that?”

Sharp criticisms flew and lodged themselves in his mind. Even in his dazed state, perhaps because of the calm voice, Cheon Sejoo’s hypothetical scenarios vividly appeared before his eyes. Sejin’s mouth gaped, and he gasped for breath. Very sadly, he had no words to refute. Cheon Sejoo was right.

If there had been no one to cover the treatment costs, Kim Hyunkyung would not have even attempted chemotherapy. As Cheon Sejoo said, she likely would have endured pain without going to the hospital in the first place, and by the time chemotherapy became meaningless, she would have yielded to Sejin’s persistence, received a terminal diagnosis, and lived her remaining life at home with painkillers until her death.

It was easy to imagine his mother suffering at home, having missed the crucial treatment period. To deny Cheon Sejoo’s words, Sejin knew perfectly well what kind of person his mother was. She was someone who would rather take her own life than burden Sejin with debt; she was not someone who would struggle for treatment, incurring immense hospital bills.

Sejin’s expression hardened coldly as he realized the truth. Looking at him, Cheon Sejoo continued in a low voice.

“You know it’s not, too. That she could at least try one last time because she was at Ihwagak… you actually know that too. That’s how it happened… That’s how it unfolded.”

“…”

He knew. Sejin knew it too. It wasn’t that he didn’t know.

But he was sad. It was truly miserable that Cheon Sejoo, who had vividly witnessed his mother’s wrongful death, would say such things to him. If someone else had said it, he would have accepted it without difficulty, but it was difficult because it was Cheon Sejoo. His insides were hot. Sejin, unable to control the surging sorrow, looked at Cheon Sejoo.

Why you, of all people? Why do I only have you?

Engulfed in sorrow, Sejin swallowed the words he couldn’t utter aloud and wept silently. The silent tears of grief dampened Cheon Sejoo’s fingertips.

“That’s how it is. Dying, it’s like that…”

No matter what you did, or what didn’t happen, or what did happen, in the end, she would have died anyway… So don’t blame yourself, don’t blame anyone, it’s no one’s fault.

Cheon Sejoo’s way of comforting Sejin was never warm, but within it was an abundance of fervent affection. Sejin, enveloped in regret, silently wept, listening to Cheon Sejoo’s voice, which hoped he wouldn’t dwell on the past.

His kindness was unwelcome. Sejin found Cheon Sejoo’s tenderness burdensome.

On December 31st, the last day of the year, Kim Hyunkyung’s remains were taken to the crematorium. Sejin no longer cried. He just stood there with an expressionless face, staring at the roaring incinerator.

Cheon Sejoo stood at a distance, watching him, not disturbing Sejin. There were no traces of tears on Sejin’s pale face, but the impact of loss was palpable. His empty eyes seemed to wander somewhere in a distant dream, not in reality, and his hand, weakly resting on the glass, was utterly bloodless and pale.

He watched Sejin like someone afraid that he would collapse at any moment. While maintaining a distance to not disturb Sejin and Kim Hyunkyung’s farewell, he observed him from a place where he could rush to Sejin at any time.

Then, as time was running out, Cheon Sejoo left the cremation hall and headed to a separate office next to the building. He intended to settle the costs before Sejin came out, but when he entered, there was only one employee, as it was lunchtime. When he asked, the answer came back that settlement was not his job and he would have to wait 30 minutes. Cheon Sejoo reluctantly nodded, but his heart was urgent.

There was roughly a similar amount of time left until the cremation was finished. He needed to complete the settlement and choose an urn before then, and he felt stifled at the thought of Kim Hyunkyung’s ashes being left unattended if he was even a little late.

“I haven’t chosen the urn yet, could you please convey that to the crematorium first?”

Cheon Sejoo asked the employee, who was watching TV, in a gentle voice. At his question, the man glanced at him and sighed. Then, with an annoyed gesture, he picked up a laminated paper and handed it over.

“You should do these things in advance. Which one would you like? Tell me, and I’ll call.”

The brochure the man handed him displayed countless urn photos. Cheon Sejoo chose the most expensive and ornate urn among them. He vaguely listened as the employee proudly rattled on about triple-sealed and vacuum-sealed features, waited, and after some time, the other employee appeared, and he settled the payment and left the office.

The sky was cloudy. Cheon Sejoo walked under the grayish clouds, reflecting on a hazy memory of the past. Hyein also disappeared into the burning flames, just like Kim Hyunkyung. That day, Cheon Sejoo had wept ceaselessly while looking at the incinerator.

It was Sister Summer and Sister Maria who held him, stumbling because he hadn’t eaten properly. Cradled in their arms, Cheon Sejoo had cried like a child, unable to accept reality. And what was it like when he finally held the palm-sized urn?

At that moment, Cheon Sejoo realized that he was alone again. An undeniable loneliness fell over his life, and he was left alone in a world no one visited.

“…”

Suddenly, Cheon Sejoo stopped walking, spotting a crouching figure in the distance. On the stairs leading to the crematorium, Sejin sat, holding a small urn, staring blankly into space.

Sejin, shrouded in darkness as if allowing no one to approach, looked like he was left alone in the world. There was no one by his side.

Cheon Sejoo could no longer endure it and called Sejin’s name.