Projection Novel (Completed) - Chapter 63

Their daily lives seemed, at first glance, to have returned to how they were. After Cheon Sejoo’s return, Sejin no longer anxiously chased after him, and Cheon Sejoo also didn’t vacate the house to avoid the situation. However, because Cheon Sejoo was so busy, it became rare for them to share meals face-to-face as they usually did. This was because he had once again taken over Shinsa Capital.

“Mutt” 

“When are you coming?” 

“17:52”

Cheon Sejoo swallowed a sigh upon seeing the message that arrived with a buzzing vibration. Annoyed, he ran a hand through his hair and looked back at the dozens of loan documents piled on his desk. There was still a mountain of things to check.

A bizarre story was hidden behind the reason he had once again become the president of Shinsa Capital. It was the loan situation uncovered during the investigation into Yoon Heesoo, the deliveryman imprisoned by Shin Gyoyeon, that led Cheon Sejoo to this point. Contrary to his expectation that Yoon Heesoo would die soon, Shin Gyoyeon seemed quite fond of him.

In January, Shin Gyoyeon ordered the Special Operations Team to investigate Yoon Heesoo. The team traced Yoon Heesoo’s family relations and every trace of his life to date, discovering that he had parents who had left home. Along with that, they sifted through his financial records and found traces of a loan Yoon Heesoo had taken out as soon as he turned twenty, and that was the problem. The lending agency he borrowed from was none other than Shinsa Capital, and the loan date was after Yoon Heesoo had already been confined to Shin Gyoyeon’s house.

Upon learning this fact, Chae Beomjun came to Cheon Sejoo with a big smile and informed him that the CEO was extremely angry to hear that such a preposterous incident was happening at his company. That very day, Cheon Sejoo went to Shinsa Capital and thoroughly grilled Kim Donggil.

The circumstances were simple. One of the gang members, who was about to lose all his assets due to his involvement in cryptocurrency with Kim Donggil, had manipulated Yoon Heesoo’s loan documents, which he had previously obtained, and embezzled the principal.

Kim Donggil was dragged away by Shin Gyoyeon and suffered greatly for failing to properly manage his subordinates, and Cheon Sejoo once again took his place. This time, he wasn’t just a figurehead. Shin Gyoyeon, knowing Cheon Sejoo graduated from medical school, asked him if he was good at math, and then made him cross-reference all loan documents with the loan principal withdrawal records.

“17:53 I’ll be late tonight. Eat first.”

Cheon Sejoo replied to Sejin and lit a cigarette. Fucking bastard. He cursed Shin Gyoyeon under his breath and picked up the documents again. But perhaps because he had been sitting in the same spot since morning, he couldn’t concentrate at all. He eventually sighed, got up from his seat, walked over to the window, opened it, and settled in front of it.

It wasn’t even 6 o’clock, but the sun was already setting. Cheon Sejoo stared at the sky dyed red, absentmindedly chewing on the words he had heard.

‘I’m not going anywhere, Cheon Sejoo. I promise.’

Sejin had said that, completely unaware. Cheon Sejoo lowered his gaze, quietly recalling what Sejin’s expression had been like when he said that.

Really? Will you do that for me? If he could go back to that moment, he wanted to ask. But whenever such questions arose, the blood that had soaked his hands also came to mind. The moment he desperately severed Han Jonghyun’s aorta, even before receiving orders from Shin Gyoyeon, fearing Han Jonghyun might reveal their meeting, clung to his mind and wouldn’t let go. After that, his hot chest would cool down, leaving only familiar self-loathing.

No matter how much he thought about it, he didn’t think Sejin could accept him like this. When he recalled Sejin’s disgusted gaze at Kim Donggil at the funeral, and his sharp voice filled with resentment, he now resignedly erased thoughts of Sejin.

The reason he no longer stayed away from home was because he didn’t want Sejin to wait. Gwon Sejin was a contrary person. If he pushed him away, Sejin would push back even harder, so he thought it would be better to give him space and not react to him, and so he diligently returned home.

However, lately, work had become so busy that even that was difficult. He thought he wouldn’t be busy anymore since the reconciliation of current loan repayments was finished in January, but a few days ago, Shin Gyoyeon ordered that even completed repayments be included in the report. Because of this, Cheon Sejoo was looking through all the receipts from when Shinsa Capital was a very small, struggling company.

“Director. I brought dinner.” 

“…Oh.”

Just as he was clearing his head, Moon Seonhyuk’s voice was heard from the other side. Cheon Sejoo extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray by the window, then returned to his seat. A packed eel rice bowl lunchbox, which Seonhyuk had brought, was placed on his newly organized office desk. Cheon Sejoo sat down and began to unwrap it, then looked up at Seonhyuk, who was staring at a spot on the desk.

“What are you doing?” 

“…Are you still keeping him?”

Following Seonhyuk’s gaze, he saw his phone screen with a new message. Seonhyuk had asked, recognizing the familiar saved name. Cheon Sejoo frowned, flipped his phone over, and nodded.

“Somehow.” 

“Until when… Never mind.”

Seonhyuk, who had stiffly continued speaking, felt Cheon Sejoo’s direct gaze and shook his head. Cheon Sejoo knew that Seonhyuk didn’t like Sejin’s presence. But he didn’t want to explain Sejin to Seonhyuk when he himself was still lost. It was his privacy, and there was no need to convince anyone, so Cheon Sejoo pretended not to hear him and handed him one of the opened lunchboxes.

“Eat and go home. I’ll take care of the rest and leave.” 

“I’ll wait.” 

“…Do as you please.”

Seonhyuk’s blind loyalty was burdensome, but now even that burden was familiar. Cheon Sejoo shrugged and began to eat in silence. Perhaps because he had been sitting all day, he couldn’t eat much. He barely finished half of the rice bowl and pushed the lunchbox away.

As soon as he closed the lid, Seonhyuk, hearing the sound, got up and approached his desk. A large hand gathered and cleared away the trash. Cheon Sejoo stared blankly at Seonhyuk, who was acting like a servant, and then asked him,

“Why do you do this work?”

A worry that had started long ago continued to this day. Cheon Sejoo wasn’t merely remaining in his position, consumed by self-loathing. He too was thinking a lot to end this anguish. At his question, Seonhyuk blinked, then straightened his posture and replied.

“Because this is all I’ve learned.” 

“……”

At the probing gaze that seemed to demand an explanation, Moon Seonhyuk’s cheeks flushed slightly, as if embarrassed. They had worked together for several years, but it was the first time Cheon Sejoo had directly asked Seonhyuk such a question. There were facts they had learned about each other by chance due to working together often, but Cheon Sejoo had never deeply wondered about Moon Seonhyuk until now.

“When I was young, I lived in a hillside village. It was hard to make a living, so I was stealing wallets and got caught by Hyung-nim Jeonghwan. I got beaten badly by Hyung-nim and barely managed to counter-attack once, and Hyung-nim thought that was commendable and took me to the establishment and fed me until I was full.”

It was a common story. Someone had recognized Moon Seonhyuk, who had nothing and no education, and drawn him into the organization. Cheon Sejoo nodded, listening to his story. In a way, Moon Seonhyuk’s situation and his own could be said to be similar. Seonhyuk, who was about to starve, probably had no choice either. He entered the organization at a moment of such poverty that he couldn’t even dream of another future, getting a chance to fill his belly, and he didn’t let it go.

“Have you ever regretted it?” 

“No, I haven’t.”

Seonhyuk shook his head casually in response to the question, as Cheon Sejoo rested his chin on the desk. Moon Seonhyuk had done many things with Cheon Sejoo. While Haewoong, Jinyoung, and Yoon Cheoljoo might have been present during the operations, they rarely frequented the workshop. Seonhyuk was the only one who could be with Cheon Sejoo when he tortured people and extracted organs. He himself had committed those brutal acts, so how could he never have regretted it?

“How can you be like that, you?”

His dark eyes, as if submerged in darkness, turned towards Seonhyuk. Looking down at Cheon Sejoo, Seonhyuk sighed inwardly. It was happening again. The man who had been unwavering until now was showing cracks in front of Seonhyuk again.

Seonhyuk knew who was causing those cracks. That kid at Cheon Sejoo’s house, that kid was shaking the man who had been like a stubborn fortress. Seonhyuk swallowed the rising contempt and opened his mouth.

“Do you regret it, Director?”

At Seonhyuk’s counter-question, Cheon Sejoo hesitated for a moment. Setting aside the fact that he hadn’t answered his question, a sense of vigilance instantly arose with the realization that Seonhyuk wouldn’t welcome him being emotionally shaken.

His trembling eyes settled coldly, and a gradual indifference settled on his face. It was a problem that his composure was disturbed whenever he thought of Gwon Sejin. These were the things he had learned while being stabbed by Seok Yoon-hyung’s knife: preventing subordinates from noticing his weaknesses…

It seemed he had forgotten that important fact for too long. Realizing his carelessness, Cheon Sejoo soon casually curved the corner of his lips and retorted.

“What good would it do you to know that?” 

“…I believe you don’t regret it. There’s no one more suited for that position than you, Director.”

And with the response that came back, he felt a heavy weight on his shoulders. Seonhyuk’s voice was full of conviction. Come to think of it, Moon Seonhyuk had been like that from the moment they first met. While the other guys had been wary and distrustful of him, who had pushed Seonhyuk aside and taken the top position in the Special Operations Team, Moon Seonhyuk had bowed to him and supported him from the very first day he saw Cheon Sejoo.

There were many times when that was a source of strength, but not today. He wasn’t as cold-hearted as Seonhyuk thought him to be. He was just trying to be.

Moon Seonhyuk wanted a Cheon Sejoo who was the exact opposite of the one Sejin knew. The two people closest to him, at his home and at his work, envisioned different Cheon Sejoos, which was also a reason for his wandering.

Cheon Sejoo turned his head without replying to Seonhyuk’s words. Recognizing his turning away as a signal to leave, Seonhyuk left the desk and positioned himself at the office entrance. It was a spot where he could rush to help Cheon Sejoo whenever he was called.

It felt suffocating. Cheon Sejoo rubbed his forehead, where a faint headache was rising, and fixed his gaze back on the mountain of documents.

He misses Cheon Sejoo.

Sejin, lying face down on the bed, buried his nose in the pillow he held, his face gloomy. As he sniffed like a dog wanting a snack, he faintly caught Cheon Sejoo’s scent. He envisioned Cheon Sejoo’s breathtakingly handsome and 멋진 face, then sighed and got up.

Cheon Sejoo’s puzzle now had barely two pieces. One, Cheon Sejoo, was afraid of Sejin discovering his other side. Two, that fear stemmed from the possibility of Sejin leaving him after getting to know him deeply.

It was only two facts, but the outlook wasn’t bad. The fact that he was afraid Sejin would leave proved that Sejin was a precious presence to Cheon Sejoo.

Love comes in many forms, but Sejin believed that the essence of all love originated from the same heart. Therefore, even if Cheon Sejoo didn’t love him romantically, Sejin thought this was enough. No matter what form Cheon Sejoo’s feelings for him took, Sejin was confident he could shape that feeling into the form he desired.

But to do that, he needed to know what kind of person Cheon Sejoo was. Sejin rolled off the bed and stretched. A dull ache in his joints had persisted for several days. As expected, it seemed another growth spurt was coming.

He stretched his aching bones, then busied himself tidying Cheon Sejoo’s bed. He smoothed out the duvet and sheets as if no one had slept there, then picked up the dry mop he had left on the floor and entered Cheon Sejoo’s dressing room. He had taken a break from cleaning, so now it was time to get back to work.

Being home with nothing to do, Sejin had been continuously cleaning the entire house. In the past few days, he had wrapped a dry mop around a long pole he bought from the supermarket to clean the dust from the 3-meter-high ceiling, and he had climbed a ladder to meticulously clean the large living room windows until they sparkled.

He had finished cleaning visible areas, so now it was time to wipe away hidden dust throughout the house. While the areas people frequented were kept clean, he had never bothered to clean the dust inside furniture, so Sejin chose hand-wiping as the final step in his cleaning routine.

Cheon Sejoo’s dressing room was very spacious, yet it was neatly organized without any clutter. This was partly due to Cheon Sejoo’s meticulous personality, but largely because many clothes he had never even worn were still hanging in their original packaging.

Sejin stared blankly at the clothes hanging on the hangers. There were countless clothes, from light short-sleeved shirts to sweaters. Most of them were brand new, with tags still attached, hanging crisply on hangers as if just ironed in a store.

With so many clothes, why does he always wear the same ones? Cheon Sejoo only wore about 20-30 of his hundreds of garments. Half of those were thin T-shirts and cotton pants for home, and tracksuits for quick errands, while the other half were suits for work. Why did he buy them if he wasn’t going to wear them? Cheon Sejoo doesn’t seem wasteful…

Sejin thought deeply, then quietly shook his head, thinking there must be a reason he didn’t know. No hasty assumptions. He muttered to himself, then moved to the innermost part of the dressing room to clean.

Bending down and reaching in to sweep the inside of the shelf with the mop, a considerable amount of textile dust came out. I should have cleaned this sooner. He felt uneasy thinking that Cheon Sejoo might have inhaled this dust all this time. Sejin continuously wiped the mop with a slightly sullen face. Once, twice, with each wipe of the shelf, white dust powdered the grey mop.

Sejin discovered the mysterious box when he finished cleaning the innermost shelf and reached into the wardrobe where Cheon Sejoo’s winter clothes were hung. Thump, his fingertips caught on an unfamiliar texture, and Sejin tilted his head, bending down. Squinting, he saw a cardboard box nestled among the long coats. What is it? Sejin reached out, grabbed the box, and pulled it out.

It was a fairly large box, about 50cm by 50cm. It felt quite heavy, indicating something inside, and Sejin opened the lid without much thought.

The first thing that caught his eye was a neatly folded doctor’s gown. The emblem of Korea University Hospital was on the chest, and Cheon Sejoo’s name was neatly embroidered above it. Sejin felt a strange heaviness in his heart as he traced his name with his fingertips. The soft touch of the thread was strangely sad.

Cheon Sejoo, wearing this gown, would probably have been the most splendid doctor at Korea University Hospital… no, in the world. The scene of him walking around in the gown, with all the patients around him turning to look, naturally came to mind without needing to imagine it hard.

Why did he quit being a doctor? He was dying to know his past. He wanted to know what kind of time Cheon Sejoo had spent during the period he didn’t know. Sejin felt a tightness in his chest and put the gown aside. I must ask him to show me himself in the gown later, he thought.

Beneath it was a Korea University graduation album. Sejin painstakingly searched through the album containing thousands of graduate photos and finally found Cheon Sejoo’s photo among the medical students. He looked truly dazzlingly handsome in his black mortarboard. Perhaps because he was younger then, he exuded a fresh and gentle aura rather than a languid and sexy one, and his expression was bright, without a hint of shadow.

The more he looked into his past, the greater his regret grew. If only I had known Cheon Sejoo a little earlier, even if we had just been neighborhood hyung and dongsaeng, how great would that have been? Such thoughts alone filled his mind. Sejin pouted his lips and lowered his eyes.

At the bottom of the box were several albums, most of them graduation albums. Assuming they were all Cheon Sejoo’s, Sejin slowly opened a middle school graduation album, then paused as he noticed the years didn’t match. Looking again, there were two graduation albums from the same middle school. Realizing there was an 8-year time difference, Sejin remembered that Cheon Sejoo had a younger sibling and blinked.

Once upon a time. Just once, Cheon Sejoo had talked to him about his younger sibling.

What did he say? Something like, ‘I wish they were as tall as me,’ was it…? At the time, his heart had fluttered because Cheon Sejoo was leaning on him, so he didn’t remember well, but he seemed to have said something like that. Other than that, he knew nothing. Whether it was a younger sister or brother, or how old they were. Of course, he could guess they were older than him, given they were seemingly 8 years younger than Cheon Sejoo.

Sejin, his face full of curiosity, opened the album. Then, to find Cheon Sejoo’s unknown sibling, he looked for a child with the surname Cheon. It was surprisingly easy to find. Before he even read the name, he found a girl who looked exactly like Cheon Sejoo.

Cheon Hyein, the girl with that name, was incredibly beautiful. She had Cheon Sejoo’s cool eyes, so much so that one could believe she was his daughter, but unlike him, her lips were plump and her cheeks were slender, giving her an even more striking impression than Cheon Sejoo. It was a face that anyone passing by would turn to look at. Sejin closed the album, thinking that if the two siblings stood side by side, people’s gazes would truly be endless.

After that, his exploration of his past continued. Somehow, he couldn’t stop. Cheon Sejoo in the elementary school album, though only 13, had clear, handsome features, as if he had popped out of a movie by himself, and even in his kindergarten graduation album, he sat with a very mature expression, wearing a cap.

Did Cheon Sejoo never have a cute phase? Even his kindergarten self seemed better-looking than him, so Sejin closed the last album a little glumly. After that, all that remained in the box were photos and miscellaneous items. Sejin saw a hospital ID card with Cheon Sejoo’s face printed on it, an old fountain pen engraved with “Happy Birthday,” and a photo of Cheon Sejoo and Cheon Hyein together.

In the photo featuring young Cheon Sejoo and Cheon Hyein, several people in nun’s habits appeared, and the two stood hand in hand against the backdrop of a cathedral. When Cheon Hyein was younger, Cheon Sejoo was even holding her.

And then, Sejin felt a sudden sense of incongruity and slowly put the photo down. There were no parents visible anywhere in the photos. The two were always with nuns, and with many other children… Sejin belatedly chastised himself and tidied the box. He neatly put everything he had taken out back in its place, and finally, placed the neatly folded gown on top before closing the lid.

“Idiot…”

Sejin muttered, sighing, and buried his head in the cabinet. He had looked at the albums thoughtlessly, simply considering them graduation albums, but now knowing the truth, he felt as if he had stolen Cheon Sejoo’s past without permission. Stupid idiot. Sejin thought he wanted to hit his 5-minute-ago self, who had been excited looking at the young Cheon Sejoo’s photo, and then put the box back in its original place.

…He grew up in an orphanage. Knowing that fact, he somehow felt his body lose strength. Sejin gave up on cleaning and, holding the mop, walked dazedly out of Cheon Sejoo’s room.

His heart felt empty. He had thought Cheon Sejoo grew up in a wealthy family, but realizing that wasn’t true made him question if he knew anything about him at all, and he could only sigh. There was a reason Cheon Sejoo had said, “You don’t know anything.” It was true. Sejin was gripped by the feeling of being a clueless child.

After rinsing and hanging the mop to dry, Sejin trudged out to the living room. When he wasn’t sleeping in Cheon Sejoo’s room, he usually slept on the sofa. As he grew taller, his feet poked out uncomfortably, but curling up in the spot where Cheon Sejoo always lay made him feel as if Cheon Sejoo was beside him, which brought him some comfort. If he turned on the TV too, it was even better. This was the only way to avoid recalling the silent corridors of a severely ill patient ward.

Sejin buried his face in his pillow to go to bed early, then got up and went into Cheon Sejoo’s bedroom. He secretly swapped his pillow with Cheon Sejoo’s, tidied the duvet, and then returned to the sofa. Lying curled up again, all sorts of thoughts came to him.

Where could Cheon Sejoo’s sibling be? If there was an 8-year age gap, Cheon Hyein would still only be in her mid-twenties. Why doesn’t she live with her brother? Then, it suddenly occurred to him that he had never once seen Cheon Sejoo talking on the phone with his sibling.

Sejin had been with Cheon Sejoo for over a year. No matter what, not seeing him contact his sibling even once during that long time was strange. They might have cut ties, or she might be…

He suddenly shook his head, dispelling the anxious imagination that welled up. No hasty assumptions. Unless Cheon Sejoo spoke about it first, he couldn’t make judgments on his own. Sejin shook his head to clear away useless thoughts and closed his eyes. Then, the pain he had forgotten while moving his body returned to torment him. His joints felt like they were breaking. Sejin began to rub his own knees with both hands, just as Cheon Sejoo had done for him.

Falling asleep like that, Sejin woke up to the warmth covering his body as the night passed. His throat felt parched and his head was splitting. He picked up his phone to check the time; it was 4 AM. His bones felt like they were about to fall out of his body. His muscles screamed, and it was painful, as if someone was stretching his joints.

He struggled to get up and went to the kitchen. He tried to take fever reducers from the medicine cabinet, but it only contained an empty box. He couldn’t remember clearly, but it seemed he had taken them last time and just put the empty container back.

In the end, Sejin sighed, a breath hot with fever, and opened the refrigerator. He took out a cold bottle of water to try and bring down his fever, and as he wet his throat, he was seized by shivers. Sejin placed the water bottle he was holding on the island bar. Then, he weakly walked, grabbed his phone, and headed not for the sofa, but for Cheon Sejoo’s bedroom. The more sick he was, the harder the day went, the more naturally Sejin went to Cheon Sejoo’s room.

“Ah…”

Idiot. Sejin, standing weakly in front of Cheon Sejoo’s bed, belatedly realized he had swapped Cheon Sejoo’s pillow earlier and sighed. By the time he threw his phone on the bedside table, returned to the living room to get his pillow, and came back to the bedroom, he was utterly exhausted, unable even to open his eyes.

I need to text Cheon Sejoo. I need to tell him I’m sick… But Sejin couldn’t even lift a finger, so he hugged Cheon Sejoo’s pillow tightly and fell asleep. His last growth spurt was beginning.

Sejin, who had fallen asleep as if collapsing, opened his eyes again to the hazy afternoon sunlight pouring through the large window. His entire body still ached. He was so hungry his stomach hurt, but he didn’t feel like eating anything. Sejin got up and, simply due to the burning thirst, went to the kitchen and drank the water he had taken out in the early morning. He emptied the lukewarm bottle of water, stopped by the bathroom, and then lay back down on the bed.

He felt his entire body drenched in cold sweat. Unable to control his shivering body, Sejin clutched the duvet. As if it were a person, the rolled-up duvet was just as thick as Cheon Sejoo.

He had never been alone during his growth spurts. In middle school, his mother was by his side, and during the two growth spurts he experienced afterward, Cheon Sejoo was with him. Sejin recalled the day he beat Lee Hae-kyun and Kim Byeong-jun and fell ill the winter before last. Even in his hazy state, he knew someone was by his side. Sejin knew well who the man was who had stroked his groaning forehead and whispered that it was okay.

Last summer, he was also with Cheon Sejoo. Cheon Sejoo had embraced Sejin, who was in pain from growing up, and constantly comforted him. How comforting and warm that embrace had been. Sejin hugged the duvet tightly, which was replacing that embrace, and bit his lip to hold back tears. Then, unable to hold back, he picked up his phone and sent him a message.

“14:29 When are you coming back…?” 

“I’m sick… I think I’m growing taller…” 

“14:30 I don’t want to be alone…”

He wanted to say, “I miss you, I wish you were by my side,” but he thought he might not come back if he said that, so Sejin only sent those messages. But even as he waited, blinking, no reply arrived from Cheon Sejoo. As 3 o’clock passed, then 4 o’clock, he felt resentful and upset at Cheon Sejoo, who didn’t even call, let alone reply.

Is it because of what happened last time? Sejin belatedly remembered that he had lied about being sick when he was kicked out of the house last time. But that was because he was desperate due to Kang Do-yoon, and now… he was really sick. Tears welled up in Sejin’s eyes as he picked up his phone again and typed.

“16:11 This time I’m really sick… I have a fever too….”

But again, no reply came. Waiting for Cheon Sejoo’s call until 5 o’clock, Sejin cried bitterly, his face buried in Cheon Sejoo’s pillow.

He thought Cheon Sejoo had been coming home regularly for a while, but it seemed he was choosing to avoid him again. He claimed to be busy with work, but it was clear he was doing it to avoid him. It was obvious from his lack of reaction even to the news that he was sick. But even though he wanted to argue, feeling wronged about how he could be so heartless, he couldn’t, because he had committed a sin.

The boy who cried wolf came to mind. Of course, that shepherd boy had lied many times, and he had only done it once, but Cheon Sejoo was surprisingly a moral person, so even that one time might have been something he disliked. Sejin felt as upset as the shepherd boy watching the wolf devour the sheep with wide eyes, and silently shed tears. He closed his eyes, vowing never to lie to him again.