Page 72 of Scarbound

“You should eat a little,” he said softly.

Noeul looked at the spoon but didn’t move. Ji-Woo dropped the spoon next to the plate.

“It’ll get cold.”

No answer came. Ji-Woo sat beside him anyway.

For a while, neither of them spoke. When the soup finally cooled untouched, Ji-Woo carried it back to the kitchen. The apartment had never felt so empty.

“How could he do this to me?” The question echoed unanswered.

When Ji-Woo eventually fell asleep beside him, Noeul finally let himself cry. He sat awake in the dim light, staring at the wall, a pillow held tightly against his chest as he tried to keep the sobs silent.

“I can’t believe he did this,” he whispered. The words sounded distant, almost as though someone else had spoken them.

Hours slipped by. He couldn’t bring himself to eat, shower, or even change his clothes. Eventually, exhaustion pulled him into an uneasy sleep on the couch, the pillow still clutched against him.

Morning arrived quietly. Sunlight filtered through the windows, but it did little to lift the heaviness pressing down on him. Every muscle ached. His thoughts felt slow, distant. The idea of seeing Chung-Hee again made his stomach twist.

He drifted through the day between the couch and the bed, barely aware of the television playing in the background. Even the thought of food made him nauseous. Despite Ji-Woo’s and Mr. Choi’s attempts to comfort him, Noeul remained withdrawn.

Mr. Choi gave him space but checked on him several times throughout the day. Sometimes he brought fresh fruit, sometimes coffee, and later, a small lunchbox.

“Noeul?”

Noeul always answered with the same words.

“I’m all right.”

Mr. Choi never challenged him. He simply placed the food nearby, reminded him to eat something, and quietly returned to the kitchen.

By evening, every plate remained untouched.

Whenever Noeul closed his eyes, he found himself back at the cemetery. Back on the cold stone. Back beneath Chung-Hee’s voice.

“I deserved it,” he whispered.

The familiar voice of depression answered before anyone else could. After everything I did to him… he had the right to be angry. Maybe it isn’t time to forgive myself yet. Maybe I really am as terrible as he made me feel.

For hours, Noeul stared at the ceiling, searching for something, anything, that might help him regain a sense of control. Several times, he reached for his phone to call Duri. Each time, he stopped himself. Ji-Woo and Mr. Choi were only a few steps away, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk to them either.

As night fell, Noeul finally forced himself to stand.

The bathroom light felt painfully bright. He stood beneath the shower for a long time before turning on the water. When the warm stream finally reached him, he closed his eyes.

He washed the blood from his forehead first. Pink water disappeared into the drain. Then he reached for the soap. His hand stopped halfway. For several seconds, he simply stared at it. Eventually, he began washing himself with slow, awkward movements, relying mostly on his right hand and avoiding his own reflection in the glass.

The water grew colder. He didn’t notice until he started shivering. Only then did he turn the shower off. He dried himself as best he could and wrapped the towel around his waist.

Clean clothes were waiting outside the bathroom. Mr. Choi had left them there without saying anything.

Later, dressed and exhausted, Noeul found a fresh cup of coffee waiting for him. He carried it to the window and sat watching the city lights flicker in the distance.

CHAPTER 30

Three days had passed since the incident, and Noeul still felt completely drained. He moved through the hours numb and detached, as if he were watching his life from a distance. He barely spoke. He didn’t answer questions, initiate conversations, or react when people tried to reach him.

Mr. Choi went about his duties carefully, avoiding unnecessary touch or even standing too close. Ji-Woo stayed with him most days, sitting nearby and talking about anything that came to mind.