Into The Thrill

"Thank you for driving me. I'll be going now."

"Sure. I enjoyed your performance today. But why don’t you participate in competitions? With your skill, you’d definitely place."
Just as Haewon was about to step out of the car, Seok Hwa asked. He turned to look at her.
"Should I be honest, or give you the pretentious answer?"

"Tell me the pretentious one first."
"It’s a hobby, not a livelihood."
"For a hobby, aren’t you putting in too much effort? Didn’t you say that kind of talent should be given back to humanity?"

"Trying too hard looks pathetic. If expectations are high, disappointment is greater. And if I work hard and fail, who’s going to take responsibility for how shitty I feel?"
"You’re more fragile than you seem. You do know that’s just an excuse, right?"
"I don’t like getting attached."

"You live life so easily."
"I don’t think you’re in any position to say that, ma’am."
"My life wasn’t easy either. I just got lucky."

Her firm, well-aged gaze bore into him, as if embodying the hardships she had endured.
"Tell me the honest answer."
"When I was preparing for competitions, my mom was really sick. And when I was getting ready to study abroad, she passed away."

"What happened?"
Her face twisted with sympathy as she looked at him.
"Cancer. It was around the time my dad left to start a new family. Mom didn’t want him to see her undergoing chemotherapy, so she suffered alone and… just went like that. When I was too devastated, she told me—people are born only to die in the end anyway. That since we all die eventually, I shouldn’t cry or grieve."

"……."
Seok Hwa fell silent, lost in thought. Haewon also drifted into his own thoughts.
People struggle so desperately just to die in the end. There was no reason to grieve for someone who left first, nor to feel joy for those who would leave later. Life was merely a difference of who went first and who went last. His mother’s final words had given him a lot to think about, then and now.
"So after that, I wasn’t sad anymore. I guess that’s when I stopped putting in any real effort."

"I see… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked something like that."
"It’s all in the past. Don’t worry about it. Have a good night."
Haewon nodded slightly in farewell and stepped out of the car.

After closing the door and taking a few steps, the white sedan carrying Seok Hwa drove past him and disappeared into the distance. His officetel was right in front of him, but instead of heading up, Haewon kept walking. He wandered the streets aimlessly, dragging his steps.
His mother, unable to accept her own death, had told Haewon—who was consumed with rage at his father—that everyone was born to die. That people lived knowing they would die. That, in the end, everyone dies. So he shouldn’t grieve, shouldn’t cry.
And he had taken those words to heart. Since then, he hadn’t cried much. He hadn’t been deeply sad either.

He had met all kinds of people, felt all kinds of emotions. But then he met someone who made his mother’s words feel… inapplicable.
He had learned more about Hyun Woojin than expected. His deceased fiancée had been a doctor—a profession that, from a chaebol family’s perspective, wasn’t much different from a common 3D job. She had a way with words. She was strikingly beautiful, resembling his mother. And she had been twenty-nine.
Considering how many doctors were in Hyun Woojin’s family, could it be that she had chosen such a grueling career just to be accepted as part of that household? If so, then she must have either loved Hyun Woojin deeply, idolized him, or loved him enough to sacrifice a great deal.

But what about Hyun Woojin? How much had he loved her? Did he love her immensely? Just enough? Or was it an arranged engagement for the sake of family ties, without love involved?
Countless scenarios and questions filled Haewon’s mind.
"Haah…"

This was why attachment was dirty. The thoughts of Hyun Woojin clinging to him felt filthy. It was already over. She was gone. It wasn’t as if she were alive and Hyun Woojin was two-timing between her and Haewon. But still, he found himself wondering where Hyun Woojin’s heart lay. He wanted to know. He wanted to know just how deep their relationship had been.
Haewon pulled out his phone and called him. There were plenty of times he didn’t answer, but fortunately, he picked up this time. Haewon let out a breath of relief.
―"Yeah."

"Where are you? At the office?"
―"No, I’m out."
The background was quiet. He seemed to be on the move.

"When will you be done?"
―"I’m on a business trip."
"Where to?"

―"Busan."
"When are you coming back?"
―"Tomorrow evening."

"Got it."
―"Why?"
"I wanted to drink. Let’s have a drink."

He had planned to get him drunk and ask about his fiancée, but his cunning little scheme had already gone up in smoke. He wanted to shake off these unpleasant thoughts. He wanted to ask if he had truly forgotten about her. And whether he liked Haewon more.
The thought made him genuinely crave a drink.
It was the kind of messy, pathetic thought Lee Taeshin would have had. Haewon was being pathetic. Knowing that Hyun Woojin was on a business trip and wouldn’t be back tonight made him want alcohol even more. His empty, quiet space felt lonelier than usual, and he didn’t want to go back.

The man who couldn’t let go of his dead fiancée, who only pretended to like Haewon, asked—
―"Did you finish practicing?"
"I’m home."

―"Go back to your officetel. Don’t do anything stupid."
"What kind of stupid thing? You mean like sitting alone at a bar, sipping on a cocktail and acting all pretentious?"
―"Yeah. That kind of stupid thing."

"I’m drinking soju."
Haewon hung up before he could respond. He stared at the screen for a long moment, but the call didn’t come back.
Hyun Woojin always gave the obligatory warnings, but he wasn’t the kind of person to fret over someone. Even if Haewon rudely hung up on him, he rarely ever called back. It was hard to tell if it was indifference or if he simply accepted things as they were.

Haewon hated clinginess, but the fact that Hyun Woojin wasn’t clingy somehow made him hate him even more.
Unconsciously, he kept walking, and before he knew it, the sky had darkened. Passing through an alley lined with restaurants, he stepped into a place that served samgyeopsal and kimchi jjigae.
Since it was a holiday and still early evening, the restaurant was nearly empty except for one occupied table.

A woman sitting by an oil heater stood up when she saw him.
"Welcome. Are you alone?"
"Yes."

"This way, please."
He was guided to a secluded table near the restroom. Placing his violin on the chair across from him, Haewon looked up at the menu on the wall.
Before he could decide, the server spoke in a dull voice.

"We don’t serve single portions."
"Two servings of samgyeopsal and a bottle of soju, please."
She nodded and took his order.

It had been a long time since he’d been in a place like this. So long that it felt unfamiliar, almost as if he had stepped onto a theater set.
Whenever he wanted to drink, he usually went to a hotel bar. Getting drunk made it a hassle to move, so he would drink at the bar and head straight up to his room.
During his school days, he had been dragged to pubs by seniors, but this was the first time he had ever come to a place like this alone.

He had expected someone to grill the meat for him, but the server simply plopped down the ingredients, turned on the burner, and left. A bit taken aback, Haewon picked up the tongs and started grilling the pork belly himself.
Once it was cooked, he cut it with scissors and turned down the gas flame. Pouring himself a glass of soju, he took a sip. The cool, burning sensation slid down his throat.
Soju was just diluted ethanol mixed with water and sweeteners. A cheap, mass-produced alcohol.

He downed another shot.
For some reason, the harsh liquid tasted sweet tonight.
He placed a piece of grilled pork belly on top of the seasoned scallions and put it in his mouth. He could understand why people got addicted to this taste. He wanted to feed it to Hyun Woojin and ask, Is this garbage too?

A bite of grilled pork belly with a shot of soju was better than any special menu created by the head chef of a fine dining restaurant.
By the time he finished a bottle of soju, more people had trickled in, and before he knew it, the restaurant was packed.
"Another bottle of soju?"

A server passing by his table asked. Haewon gave a small nod. She went to the fridge and returned with a freshly chilled bottle of soju. The green glass was frosted, and condensation quickly formed, beading up like tiny drops of dew.
Haewon twisted the cap off and poured himself another glass. Sitting alone in a crowded, lively space, tilting a bottle to his lips, his presence seemed to stir the old woman’s sympathy.
As she passed by his table, she kept bringing him little things—side dishes, condiments, unsolicited advice on the best way to eat samgyeopsal.

Perhaps drinking alone made him stand out. It felt like people were sneaking glances at him. The woman at the next table, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, made eye contact with him more than three times.
"Sorry, no seats available. You'll have to wait. Please wait outside."
"Ah, auntie, it's cold. I'll stay inside."

"There's no place to stand here, it's too crowded."
A commotion erupted at the entrance. It was the sound of an argument between a man who couldn't bear to wait outside in the cold and a staff member. It seemed the restaurant was popular enough to have a waiting line due to no available seats. Haewon nodded in agreement, poured some soju, and ate his meat as the lady had instructed. Just then, someone cleared his violin and sat down in front of Haewon.
Not just one, but two people had taken over his table. Haewon set down what he was holding and snatched his violin back from the strangers.

"What do you want?"
"It seems you're alone; can we sit here? It's really too cold outside, and it doesn't look like seats will free up anytime soon. It's almost spring, but damn, it's freezing."
"I'd rather you didn't."

"Come on, sit with us. There are a lot of places closed today because it’s a holiday, and there’s nowhere else to go."
Both of them had short hair, as if they had just finished military service. They took it upon themselves to join his table and ordered meat and soju. They moved the nearly cooked slices of pork belly from the grill to Haewon's plate and put fresh meat on the grill.
"Eat with us."

They seemed embarrassed to offer him the undercooked meat. If it was noticeable that he was sitting alone, perhaps joining someone wasn't such a bad idea after all.
Without saying anything, Haewon carefully placed his violin against the wall.
He poured another drink. He was already halfway through the second bottle of soju, and there had been no call from Hyun Woojin. Typical of him. That's just the kind of person he was, and Haewon realized he was a bit hurt by it.

He was all warmth and charm when he felt like it, but otherwise, he wouldn't even look back, knowing Haewon felt lonely enough to drink. Since Taeshin’s death, apart from Hyun Woojin, hardly anyone else had called him.
Why do I have no friends?
Haewon wondered this self-mockingly. He never got along with women who had different interests, and his friendships with men often turned into romantic involvements. He disliked steady relationships; if things seemed to be getting serious, he'd cut them off.

His personality and circumstances also contributed to his lack of effort in maintaining or creating relationships. Without any need, he made no effort to keep or form connections. And so, on days like this when he felt down, he had no one to call and drink with. The only senior he did call was now in jail, being prosecuted, probably because of something Haewon had done. Haewon now understood why Taeshin had °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° called him so many times.
"Are you a performer? Or some kind of celebrity?"
The man with nondescript short hair asked, looking at the violin case leaning against the wall. They clinked glasses among themselves and gulped down the soju. It was hard to tell them apart with their short hair and similar outfits. The one on the right looked at Haewon curiously, not with malice, just curiosity.

"What do you do there? Are you a soldier?"
"Uh? How did you know? It's that obvious."
They seemed to be career soldiers. They chuckled meaninglessly, running their rough hands through their stubby hair.

"So, what do you do? You are a celebrity, right? I think I've seen you somewhere."
"How did you know? I'm not really famous, people don't recognize me much."
Haewon lied. The man on the right hit the left.

"See, I told you! I knew I'd seen him somewhere, for real."
The right one seemed very pleased that his guess was correct.
"I saw you in that drama. It airs at ten on Fridays on channel five."

"Oh, that one. Thank you."
"I really enjoyed that drama. Is Park Yeon-ju really that beautiful?"
"Yes, she is beautiful."

Haewon nodded in agreement. He didn't know who Park Yeon-ju was, but they responded as if they had just seen her in person.
"Wow, it's my first time seeing a celebrity up close. But, what's your name?"
This time, the left one asked. He fumbled to take out his phone from his pocket.

"Everyone knows Park Yeon-ju but not my name. Maybe because I'm not famous."
"It's not that; I'm just bad with names."
Haewon said dejectedly, and the man put his phone back and waved his hands.

"Actually, I'm really not feeling great today. Please don’t make me talk."
"I'm sorry. But, you have such a strong aura as a celebrity. When I saw you outside, it was like there were 500 lights shining behind your head."
The right one flattered him while elbowing the left.

"Seeing you in person, your face is really small, and I'm actually a huge fan. Have a drink."
The newly converted fan on the left poured Haewon another drink. The clear soju shimmered. Haewon downed his drink and set the glass down as the right one tipped the bottle again.
"I was thinking about quitting this all today, but since you both seem to like it, I might reconsider."

Haewon chewed on the pork belly and spoke.
"Why quit? There’s no easy job in the world. You might not be famous now, but you'll get there. Hang in there!"
The right and left kept begging him to continue acting. Haewon eventually nodded. A woman with a ponytail hairstyle, who had made eye contact with Haewon three times from another table, came over with paper and a pen, asking for his autograph.

"I'm sorry, but I'm also a fan. Could you please sign this?"
"When I become famous, I'll sign for you. Do you know my name? You don’t, right?"
Haewon asked, and the woman sheepishly whispered.

"I definitely remember seeing you, but I'm bad at remembering names. But I'm really a fan."
Haewon looked at her skeptically. At this point, he wondered if there really was a celebrity who looked like him. He had never heard such a thing, but it seemed best to flee before his lie was exposed.
"I'll sign when I become famous. I come here often."

"Really? I'm a regular here too. I come at least once a week."
"My manager is waiting, so I have to go."
Haewon stood up, leaving the regretful faces behind, and paid for everything, including what the right and left had ordered. They yelled out compliments and thanks, declaring their love as he walked out. The people in the restaurant blatantly stared, making Haewon quickly exit with his violin.

The cold wind slapped his cheeks. Heading towards the main road to catch a taxi, his phone rang. It was Hyun Woojin. The timing was impeccable. Haewon was feeling a mix of dismay, wonder, and a bit of joy from the incident at the restaurant. He answered the phone immediately.
"Do I look like a celebrity?"
―Where are you?

"Do I look like one? Who do I resemble?"
―I don't care about that. Where are you?
"People are asking for my autograph, saying they enjoyed the drama. Maybe doppelgängers really do exist."

Hyun Woojin asked sharply, but Haewon continued on his tangent. A sigh came through the phone.
―Have you been drinking?
"I've had about two bottles, but I'm not drunk. There’s something I wanted to ask you if I was drunk."

―If it’s not rude, then we can’t talk, huh?
The sound of a door opening and closing was heard. Haewon exhaled, and his breath turned white in the cold air. Though sober, his steps were slow, his body felt heavy, and walking suddenly became difficult. He leaned against the cold grey wall.
"How many people did you date?"

―Not enough to count on both fingers and toes.
"Have you ever been in a serious relationship? Like, thinking about marriage or something?"
No one had ever chosen to be a doctor just to match his family standards, or had been a world-renowned prima donna with divine beauty and a nightingale's voice, or had been so severely injured in a car accident that they were almost unrecognizable but Hyun Woojin still wanted to stay by their side.

Was there ever such a person...?
The casual mention by Senior Choi about Hyun Woojin suddenly became very clear in Haewon’s mind.