CHAPTER 35 – In Those Two Weeks (Part 2)

Dojun leaned over the toilet and stuck his fingers down his throat. It took three or four deep stabs to succeed. After vomiting all the alcohol he had consumed throughout the evening, he flushed the toilet. He lifted his bloodshot face and wiped his mouth.

Turning on the cold water, he rinsed his mouth and brushed his teeth. He took a hot shower, repeatedly rinsing his mouth.

When he came out of the bathroom, Dojun turned on the lights in the dressing room. As the light flicked on, he saw the neatly hung clothes on the hangers. Five suits and five pairs of shoes, each tagged for a specific day of the week. It was the work of a new organizer, not Yoon Seoyeon, who couldn’t write so neatly.

He thought he might laugh, but only a dry breath escaped. It seemed he had vomited away all his empty laughter along with the alcohol.

“Stubborn, Yoon Seoyeon.”

Two weeks had passed. Just saying her name made his ribs ache, so Dojun took a deep breath.

Alright, let’s see how long I can hold out.

With a slightly contemptuous heart and a bit of self-challenge, he had wished her well in their farewell.

A month, or maybe two. He figured he would be too busy to think about her, and once the busy period passed and Yoon Seoyeon began to waver, he planned to approach her with a smile, asking if she had been well.

But Seoyeon was doing well, unlike him, whose knees buckled after just two weeks.

She still greeted customers with a kind smile and a straight voice. She ate soybean sprout rice, drank coffee, and bought sandwiches. Dojun frowned as he recalled Secretary Kang’s lengthy explanation. He had a tendency to report overly detailed information at times.

He thought he would be too busy to have time to think about Yoon Seoyeon, but on the first day, he realized his mistake. In the dressing room, the living room, the kitchen island, the bedroom, the bathroom—everywhere, he saw Seoyeon.

When he came home to a dark house, her neatly placed shoes looked like a welcoming illusion. Turning on the lights, he saw her sitting on the island chair. When he changed clothes, he saw her holding a hanger, setting up his outfits. In the shower, he saw her blushing under the water.

For two weeks, Seoyeon lay beside him, smiling quietly, and sat on the sofa eating pizza. One day, she shyly took off her clothes, and another day, she cupped his cheeks, looking into his eyes. Another day, she held a cup with both hands, gazing into the distance.

Dojun almost reached out to grab her illusion unconsciously. He chuckled, knowing where this symptom came from.

When he could no longer see someone he wanted to see, he saw illusions. A tangible vision that wouldn’t close, wouldn’t open, wouldn’t go away. The image of his mother is created by an intense longing. At sixteen, he clutched at the thin air in the form of his mother and tore at his chest, weeping.

Dojun walked past the neatly arranged hangers and opened the inner drawer. He quickly put on comfortable pants and a shirt. He applied lotion and tidied his face. The Hwang Dojun in the mirror had bloodshot eyes but looked much better than before.

“Hoo.”

He exhaled, and though there was a faint smell of alcohol, it wasn’t overwhelming. Leaving the dressing room, Dojun called the driver and took a cold bottle of water from the fridge, gulping it down. He made himself a strong cup of coffee, pouring it into a tumbler to help clear his mind.

Click.

The front door closed, and the lights went out. It was time to visit his father.

The hospital room was quiet at dawn. Dojun closed the door softly. The scene remained unchanged despite the passing years; the only movement came from the vapor of the humidifier and the ticking clock.

“Father, I’m here.”

Dojun pulled out a chair and sat by the bed, speaking to his father. He tried to recall the image of his father, who had been tall, loud-voiced, and sharp-eyed.

“It’s your birthday. I’m late.”

As the clock’s hands neared 2 AM, Dojun spoke, staring at Yeong-guk. He watched the second hand complete a circle before breaking the silence.

“Father.”

He paused after the single word, then smiled slightly.

“I’m in love.”

Dojun looked at his father’s face for a long time before continuing.

“Do you remember when you were dating Mom and you broke up?”

It was a legendary tale of pride, the ego battle of the century, he was told. His mother, the eldest daughter of a prominent legal family, and his father, the arrogant eldest son of a growing conglomerate. They met through an arranged date, sparks flew, and they courted each other without yielding an inch in a prideful battle until they parted ways, scoffing at each other.

His mother had immediately started seeing another man, progressing towards marriage, only for his father to disrupt the proceedings at the last minute, practically kidnapping her. Dojun had heard that story countless times.

“They say blood doesn’t lie. Your son is doing exactly the same thing.”

Dojun chuckled, rubbing his forehead. If his father had any consciousness left, he would have liked to ask him. 

Is it normal for one woman in the world to be so uncontrollable? Is this torment of wanting something unattainable what love is?

“You’ve aged a lot, Father.”

Dojun commented, noticing his father’s white beard. The smell of medicine and the regular beeping of machines had long replaced his father’s presence. Silence followed his solitary words.

“Her name is Yoon Seoyeon. You might have seen her.”

Dojun broke the silence, suddenly speaking to Yeong-guk. He then began to vent.

“She’s stubborn, proud, and doesn’t listen. It’s frustrating. I tried not contacting her out of spite….”

Dojun rubbed his face, laughing self-deprecatingly.

“It’s hard. I don’t think I can hold out.”

He realized he couldn’t bear it when he reached for her illusion. Wanting to see her as much as a deceased loved one was a complete defeat. He understood he would wither away waiting for Seyeon to miss him first. Smiling, he remarked,

“You gave birth to something like this.”

Dojun tore his gaze away from Yeong-guk and looked at the early morning sky outside the window. For a proud woman, Yoon Seoyeon was very patient. She would never reach out first.

He could easily imagine her politely greeting from a distance, as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t hard to imagine her showing her gentle smile to someone else, meeting a kind and caring man, and living a calm life.

Even if he married and started a family with someone else, Seoyeon would see and hear about it but would live knowing that, smiling gracefully while suppressing any flicker of emotion.

She would live well like that.

When Dojun thought of this, he felt a bit dumbfounded. It was truly ridiculous, but that was the difference between them.

“But I’m going to hold out for a month, just to see how much she misses me, to make her anxious. It feels unfair that I seem to be the only one in love.”

Dojun said, looking back at Yeong-guk.

“It’s a bit of a mean thought, but I hope she cries because of me. A lot.”

He wanted her to cry because of him, to ache for him. He wished she would blame and resent him, get angry, and call him cruel. He wanted her to cry until she was exhausted and then collapsed into his arms.

“Still, Dad, I let her go knowing what I was doing. Unlike you, I wasn’t foolish enough to actually break up. I’ll make sure of it.”

Dojun joked with his father. He wondered if he understood that he never had any intention of really letting that woman go.

“I’ll bring her here soon. She’s very beautiful.”

Dojun placed the back of his hand on his father’s face. Even though no response came, it was alright. There was warmth when he reached out.