“I’m not a god, but I can probably solve most real-world problems to some extent. Maybe. So trust me and tell me.”
In truth, I believed in his ability even more than he thought. It was almost absolute, like a child’s blind faith in an animated hero—and the instant I realized it, I was surprised with myself. If I hadn’t, even vaguely, believed that there was no problem he couldn’t practically solve, I wouldn’t have dashed here through the rain like a madman.
What held me back was that to ask for his help, I had to unravel the stories of other people, not my own.
Exhaling the breath I had drawn in with a deep inhale, I began to speak, my voice trembling slightly.
“I’m being hunted. I have to keep hiding.”
“......”
His eyes flickered, narrowing ever so slightly, as though he hadn’t expected me to bring that up.
“Actually, it’s not me, but my brother and sister who lived with me—their situation.”
From what I’d learned while working together, he and Chief Han, who’d shared ties all the way back to Hong Kong, were more than mere business partners—almost like family. Yet neither of them shared anyone else’s secrets. When I became a Phantom employee and mentioned my complicated circumstances asking for some courtesy, Chief Han didn’t disclose the details to him, and he didn’t demand explanation, saying he couldn’t hire me otherwise.
I suspected the same reason explained why neither of them had asked about my reaction to Prize abstract painting. He simply didn’t pry into the painful parts of others’ lives—neither from shallow curiosity nor even from genuine concern.
If I wanted him to understand me, if it was necessary, I had to speak for myself.
Like forcing a rusty winding key with too much pressure, voicing my words was not easy.
“I learned today... that it could all end.”
Under the dark canopy of my umbrella, when I confirmed the figure of my uncle standing there like a specter, I instinctively realized we’d been playing house at least under Morae’s father’s thumb.
Morae had been right. They already knew where we were and were just waiting for the right moment.
I’d dragged my uncle down the stairs without thought. Our family didn’t have the money to hire someone to tail us. He must be nothing more than Morae’s father’s emissary.
We entered a shabby skewered-meat pub two or three minutes from the bus stop. The yellowed lampshade cast an even paler light, and when I got a clear look at my uncle’s face, I saw that the torment had been relentless since we left.
It wasn’t unexpected. Though unspoken, my brother and Morae both knew they’d caused much pain and sacrifice by making this choice, and they were prepared for the lifetime of guilt that would follow. They’d anticipated the pressure at home, too, but as they put it, they’d carried out their “selfish choice” with feigned ignorance.
When our house took over the boat business, we owed money to Teacher Im’s family, like every other home in the village. We must have accumulated small debts before that. About a month after we left, reminders of the debt began, and just a week ago my uncle received a final notice. He pressed his lips together once, the deep lines around his mouth growing more pronounced.
“Pay off the debt within a month, or bring back Seo Ihyeon—kidnap him if you have to—and make him kneel and apologize before me.”
That was Teacher Im’s demand—no, his order.
Though he wore an umbrella, droplets dripped from his hair; my uncle’s hat brim still held beads of water that fell with weight onto the table.
He drained his draft beer and ordered soju, then, after two swallows, rubbed his wet face with his thick, rough hands. Those hands, which nothing seemed to pierce, were powerless before the demands of survival.
Had Grandfather or Uncle ever pondered the concept of “life”? For them, whose days were spent heaving one behind another, the word “life,” demanding a holistic, three-dimensional understanding, must have seemed a gourmet’s indulgence in philosophy.
My uncle hadn’t come to take charge of his life’s direction but out of necessity for the bare minimum of daily survival.
“As long as the debt exists, our house can’t be free from theirs. And my means aren’t enough to live debt-free...”
He mumbled this looking at his untouched third glass. I felt no resentment or anger toward my brother and Morae from him. Rather, his face looked pained, as if forced into something he didn’t agree with. I could easily imagine the mental battles and sleepless nights spent regretting his own incompetence, swigging soju in despair after arguing with Morae’s father to come get us.
Each of us, in our own positions, was forced into choices we couldn’t avoid. The resulting fractures in our relationships seemed impossible to mend with any wisdom.
Except for Morae being an Omega, I told him most of the situation. The stark disparity between the two households, the opposition and confrontation it caused, the threats and ultimatums, the rebellion and severance, and then the recurring pressure and blackmail from those who couldn’t accept that choice.
The history of the two people I loved boiled down so simply. Had I lost the singular specificity of Im Morae and Seo Ihyeon in those few minutes of telling? I cursed my clumsy gift of speech for failing to convey even a fraction of the uniqueness of their lives.
I fell silent, feeling as if I’d done something dreadful to Morae and my brother.
He crossed his arms and exhaled slowly, as if reviewing what I’d said.
“So then, the idea was to keep your uncle from meeting them, and in secret you, Seo Ihyeon, would solve this?”
It wasn’t a question laden with reproach for such folly.
“...Yes.”
With some nerve, I’d begged for a day to come up with a plan, promising to contact him tomorrow. The moment I parted from my uncle, I’d run here.
“So you want to prevent their return to the village.”
He showed no surprise, no irritation at having to hear such a personal tale when he’d merely suggested drawing. Like a private investigator dealing with routine cases, he cut through unnecessary sentiment and curiosity to reach the core, leaving me the one to feel bewildered.
But he was right. That was the gist. With Morae’s father in motion, the priority was to move the two of them somewhere safe as soon as possible. Thanks to my uncle, I’d scraped together the time I needed.
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
I rubbed my thumb over the cooled surface of the teacup I hadn’t dared sip.
Lifting his glass again, he drank, then glanced at me with a half-smile.
“Why? Do you think I’ll hurt someone to solve a problem?”
“......”
That faint smile seemed to say that he was fully capable of that method—if only he chose to. I thought of the warning face he’d made about wanting me to live safely and peacefully with Chief Han:
“I want it to be safe. Peaceful. Secure life, yes? Seo Ihyeon.”
“Right. Anyway, you’ll need money.”
He toyed with the On the Rocks glass perched on my crossed legs and murmured to himself,
“So, ‘I’ll paint. Help me.’ That was what it meant.”
“....”
I’d been contemplating repainting for some time, but if that was exactly what he meant, he wasn’t wrong. He only knew of my painting one work finished years ago, and now I had nothing solid to offer about my art. Asking him to help me paint was as if he had some value in his ability—how losing a deal it must seem to him. I knew that, but I had no alternative. I couldn’t rely solely on his kindness.
He set down his glass, draped his arms over the chair’s arms, and loosely laced his fingers.
“I’ll pay you a retainer in advance. You’re someone I wanted to persuade, so I can give you that kind of special treatment.”
His answer was refreshingly unhesitant. I’d expected questions, deliberations, counteroffers, and I stared at him, stunned. He asked how much I needed to set things right.
It wouldn’t be a fundamental solution, but a fundamental solution wasn’t possible anyway. Thanks to Teacher Im’s poison, my uncle and grandfather would suffer more harsh days. But first I had to get the two of them to safety. This escape must not end as a halfhearted rebellion by two immature lovers.
When he heard “thirty million won,” his expression twisted slightly, as if in disbelief or disgust.
“You mean they torment your family over a thirty-million-won debt?”
“Oh... no.”
I explained that I wanted to send Morae and my brother to Bali first—ideally within a few days, so they could leave Korea immediately, since I’d already delayed them enough.
He lay back, the light from the lamp between us casting the long shadow of his eyelashes across his cheek. Tapping the rim of his glass thoughtfully, he turned to look at me.
“Instead, let’s cut off the root. If I ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ pay off your family’s debt, at least the direct threat is removed.”
“But that’s too much money....”
For him, seventy or a hundred million might be negligible. Perhaps he couldn’t understand that such sums could make a person’s life that hard—or it angered him. But for my grandfather and uncle and so many others, dawn to dusk in the boat’s briny stench, poverty was lifelong. If they hadn’t borrowed to buy the boat, it would have been worse. The debt to Teacher Im wasn’t the only one; debts piled on like water into a bottomless jar, and bringing my father and me into the family was one more misfortune in that chain.
“There’s a way to start fresh far from their influence. Three hundred million domestically, five hundred million abroad should be enough to lay a foundation.”
He proposed going beyond mere debt repayment. Three or five hundred million—like when I first heard his apartment was worth at least fifteen hundred million, I couldn’t fathom it. If my brother and Morae left Seoul completely, and my grandfather and uncle lived where Morae’s father had no sway... that would solve everything except his wrath. In simple terms, yes. But I shook my head.
“I’m not confident I can repay that.”
“Repayment can be gradual. I won’t press you until you say you’ll stop painting.”
“Thank you, but... Grandfather and Uncle probably won’t want to leave the village.”
One might argue that repaying debt and moving away solves the problem, but not everyone in the world solves their life’s problems so proactively. Just as a mountain doesn’t rise and shift when it dislikes the cold wind, some people endure life by standing firm where they are, not by fighting.
Though it seemed foolish to some, that was how my grandfather and uncle lived.
He sipped more from his glass and after a long pause spoke.
“What I want is an environment where you can devote yourself to painting without worry. Even if your family can’t move elsewhere, at least the debt must be settled for that to happen.”
“......”
I couldn’t deny it.
“I’ll arrange for your brother and sister to relocate via untraceable routes within five days. And I’ll settle your family’s debt—a clean one hundred million.”
He half-smiled—and before I could answer, rose to refill my empty glass.
I’d tied up money in the rooftop deposit. I planned to send Morae and my brother first, recover that deposit, and then repay him. But that considered only Morae and my brother. If I could also clear the family debt, it would ease worries for those left in Donghae. Teacher Im’s demands weren’t only about seventy million won, but without that debt, the immediate pretext would fade.
Three or five hundred million once seemed unreachable, but if I held off painting, saved fast for three or four years, I could repay it. That thought made his offer hard to refuse.
He returned with two On the Rocks glasses. Taking away my cooled teacup, he handed me a whiskey pale with added tonic water; his glass was darker.
“You may call it a retainer, but since you have to recoup it by selling your work, it’s effectively a debt.”
Leaning back loosely in his chair, he asked,
“Are you okay with being so entangled with me?”
“I know it’s scary to think I might never be able to repay such a sum... but if I can’t do it with painting, I’ll find other work and repay you.”
He stared at me for a moment, as if hurt by my words, before swiftly regaining composure. He picked up a cigarette from the side table and lit it.
“This is a retainer for future paintings, not a loan from a loan shark to pressure you. Once this is resolved, don’t worry about anything else—just focus on painting. Neglect your painting, and you’ll be in default.”
I nodded as carefully as I could. He exhaled slowly, then flicked ash from his cigarette with quick, restless fingers and glanced at me.
“May I ask one thing?”
He faced me directly and in a flat tone asked,
“I understand your brother and sister are important to you, but why are you so terrified—cowering here—at the thought of their lives being threatened?”
I’d assumed it was a question for practical information, but it was a personal curiosity. He wouldn’t press me if I chose not to answer. It was entirely my choice.
Between us, wisps of smoke curled upward as I looked into his storm-blue eyes, wondering why I—technically not under direct threat—feared this situation so much.
He must not know the terror of love. When one of two people who loved each other deeply disappears. When external forces keep them apart. The result is not a few sentimental tears or drunken nights and then nothing. Their humanity would be shattered and distorted, unable to remain themselves.
I was not strong enough to endure such a fate for Morae and my brother. If that happened again, I, too, might be destroyed beyond recovery. This time it wouldn’t end with quitting painting.
I swallowed a large gulp. The rain still battered the window, howling like a demon trying to drag a sacrifice through the night.
“I’m scared because those I love can directly affect my life. If they suffer, I will suffer too.”
If love for him were just a fleeting surface emotion, this would sound ridiculous, but I couldn’t hide the truth. This was about my parents, Morae, my brother—and also about my hesitation before this new feeling for him.
“So maybe...I’m doing this more to save myself than them. Or maybe that’s true.”
Perhaps it was more of a struggle for my own survival than for theirs. But whether for others or myself, whether from altruism or selfish motives, I was determined not to let their escape be dismissed as childish rebellion. That resolve—and the strength I needed to survive in human form—came from them, so I didn’t regret it.
He said nothing, cigarette in hand, studying me with reflective eyes.
I had resolved to suppress any special affection I sought from him—not only because he was beyond my reach, but out of fear of love itself. Had it not been for that fear, I might have dared at age twenty-two to try.
But I was frightened. Not only by the thought that he could never feel the same, but by the fear that if this tender emotion grew into something colossal and unyielding, it would wield power over me. Compared to that fear, the first was nothing.
I was living evidence of love’s destructive force—no, its ruined work.
At last, he withdrew his gaze, uncrossed his legs, inhaled the last of his cigarette, and stubbed it out in the ashtray.
“I think I understand now.”
He said no more.
■ ■ ■
The wind howled so fiercely that raindrops pelted the window like handfuls of sand thrown with all one’s strength. It sounded as though rain would burst through the double-pane at any moment.
But the reason I couldn’t sleep wasn’t the eerie rain or the unfamiliar bed. On a night like this, no matter where I lay, I couldn’t rest.
He’d agreed to the retainer immediately but advised me not to hide this from Morae and my brother. He said I should explain the situation to persuade them to leave quickly.
So after our talk, I sent them a message—just a suspicious note that I had urgent business and would go ahead without them. In the morning, I would meet them first, tell them the plan, and then see my uncle together.
I had thought him someone who left all choices to individuals, cautious about influencing others’ lives with general advice. But his counsel was surprisingly earnest and persuasive—not off-the-shelf platitudes tossed about irresponsibly but a thoughtful plan built on his experience, wisdom, and logic that patched the holes in my fear and anxiety.
Had I properly thanked him? Tonight alone, there were countless thanks I needed to offer.
Turning onto my side under the warm blanket, I pulled it up to my shoulders. The guest room on the first floor sat directly beneath his bedroom. I gazed at the empty single bed across from me and imagined him lying above me at the same spot.
My core felt chilled, though my temperature seemed normal. I hugged myself under the soft, cozy covers. I buried my face in the chest of the pajamas he’d given me. I caught only a faint trace of the fabric softener—none of his unmistakable scent.
I knew how to fall asleep. What my racing heart truly desired was clear. There was no need for the cumbersome chore of being honest with myself.
I threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. Barefoot, without slippers, I groped down the dark corridor where only the faintest outlines of objects were visible. I pressed my hand to the wall and climbed the stairs, slowly heading toward the deepest bedroom on the second floor.
The door was ajar, as if he were expecting me. Without knocking, I gently pushed it with my fingertips.
It felt rude, but a strong intuition told me knocking would be too conspicuous.
As the door opened wider, the dim indirect light flooding from the hallway cast long shadows across the dark brown wood tiles. Following that light, I saw him sitting against the headboard, looking at me.
Wearing only training pants, bare-chested, he sat with his legs stretched out, ankles crossed, hands loosely clasped over his thighs. He didn’t look asleep or even drowsy.
His eyes were steady, as if my coming had not been my choice but his supernatural summons—and his posture suggested he’d been waiting for me.
“......”
“......”
He omitted the question of why I’d come or any invitation to sleep together—they would have felt like ugly, cumbersome accessories.
“May I... stay here?”
My voice was dry as dust.
He brushed hair that had settled after a shower behind one ear, propping one knee up and resting his elbow on it. Holding the swept-back hair in his hand, he tilted his head challengingly and looked at me.
“You don’t mean... just to sleep, right?”
I stepped entirely into the room to show it wasn’t just that.
Strangely, I wasn’t afraid of rejection. Perhaps because we’d spent the night together twice before? I was sure he would accept me—at least he wouldn’t refuse.
