Actually, It’s a Messy Melodrama Chapter 57

I don’t think this solves all the problems, but the fact that I didn’t die in a situation where I clearly wouldn’t have survived before made Haeshin feel incredibly emotional.

Haeshin, who had suddenly stopped talking, skillfully continued speaking to Taejun, who was looking at him with a puzzled expression.

“The fact that I don’t have to walk on eggshells around Jin Youngmin anymore really… it really feels like a dream. I’m so happy, CEO.”

Taejun looked at Haeshin’s face, smiling brightly like a child, and felt a complex mix of emotions.

He hadn’t slapped Jin Youngmin’s cheek or made him kneel; seeing Haeshin so happy over just a few words felt pitiable, and at the same time, it raised doubts.

No matter how he thought about it, Cha Haeshin had no reason to be this afraid of Jin Youngmin right now. They hadn’t known each other for long, and because Taejun had intervened so early, Haeshin would have rarely encountered Youngmin’s true nature.

According to the bar staff, Youngmin had been quite polite to Haeshin every time he visited, even using formal language consistently. Just from listening to Haeshin, it seemed that in this round, Jin Youngmin hadn’t shown any particularly violent behavior, except for the day he showed up at his house.

And yet, Haeshin seemed like someone accustomed to Jin Youngmin’s violence. To say it was simply because Jin Youngmin reminded him of his father felt unconvincing.

“See? It’s not a big deal.”

However, instead of questioning him about it, Taejun smiled gently and played along with Haeshin’s words. For now, he wanted Haeshin to enjoy this moment to the fullest.

“You won’t get hurt when I’m by your side.”

He wanted Cha Haeshin to feel more reassured and more at ease. He wanted him to trust and rely on Han Taejun more. That way, even if Taejun said something unbelievable, even if he asked him to confess an unbelievable secret, he would follow his words.

Watching the brightly smiling Haeshin, Taejun raised his hand, gently brushed the corner of his eye, and said.

“Shall we stay and eat?”

A sudden silence fell. The fingertips that had touched Haeshin’s face trembled faintly. Taejun really hadn’t meant to do that. His hand had just moved on its own.

If he had to give a reason, it might have been because Haeshin’s smiling face was so pretty, but that was a reason better left unsaid, so he didn’t voice it.

“Th-uh, sorry.”

“It’s okay. Um… yes. Let’s eat. This looks incredibly delicious.”

Fortunately, Haeshin let Taejun’s action slide without questioning it. But then, he felt disappointed that it was being overlooked so casually. Flustered by his own fickle heart, Taejun took a spoonful of the soup in front of him.

‘I love Mr. Taejun. I’ve fallen in love, with Mr. Han Taejun.’

Along with the soup, he swallowed the fact that Haeshin’s confession, which was nothing more than an act, had been echoing in his ears since earlier.

☂️

“CEO.”

On the way home, sitting side by side in the back seat of the car, Haeshin, who had been quietly admiring the scenery outside the window, suddenly called out to Taejun. Perhaps because he was in such a good mood, Haeshin was unusually chatty today. Taejun thought, quite frankly, that this Haeshin was cute.

“What is it now.”

“There’s something I’m curious about.”

“What is it.”

“CEO, do you ever think about death?”

Secretary Choi, who was driving in the front, glanced at Haeshin through the rearview mirror. It was a question he hadn’t expected to be asked in such a bright and light voice.

Taejun was just as surprised. His heart began to pound. It was partly because it was an unexpected question, but more so because Taejun was someone who knew about Cha Haeshin’s death.

He was afraid to hear what Cha Haeshin thought about death. He felt pity as he was reminded of his tragic end, and he was also scared of the slight possibility that, as he suspected, he was someone who remembered his own death.

When Taejun didn’t answer, Haeshin continued, his gaze still fixed outside the window.

“I sometimes think about my death.”

“Why would you think about something like that.”

“It’s just… everyone dies someday, right? And I’ve had many near-death experiences since I was young.”

As he said this, Haeshin thought his fate was quite interesting. Cha Haeshin was the person who had experienced the most deaths, and at the same time, the person who had escaped death the most. It was an irony.

“I want my death to be peaceful. Like a rest.”

He was aware that he was talking nonsense, but Haeshin couldn’t control his impulse.

“I don’t need something like heaven. I just want death to be the end, with nothing after it.”

Reincarnation, rebirth, an afterlife like heaven and hell—Haeshin hated it all. Returning to nothingness was all Haeshin wished for.

The reason Haeshin was talking about this now wasn’t because he was depressed. It was the opposite. Because hope had entered his life, Haeshin could finally imagine the death he desired.

This moment, being able to imagine escaping Jin Youngmin, living an ordinary life, and one day meeting a natural end like everyone else, made Haeshin incredibly happy.

But for Taejun, listening beside him, it was a different story. He wasn’t happy at all, nor was he hopeful.

For Haeshin, there was no death like a peaceful rest. With his own end, Haeshin would have, with high probability, repeated his death infinitely. It wasn’t Taejun’s fault, but he felt guilty.

He couldn’t stop thinking, what if Taejun could have solved this problem a little earlier, what if he had tried and worked harder during the time he was feeling listless?

Whether Haeshin remembered his death or not, neither outcome was fortunate. So Taejun couldn’t give any answer and just listened to Haeshin’s words.

“CEO, for me. So if I die… I mean, when I really, really die. Not some pointless death, but if I die peacefully after living a full life.”

When I really die.

Taejun silently repeated those words. He picked up and gathered the small breadcrumbs Haeshin was unknowingly scattering. The collected pieces were gradually forming a shape that Taejun did not want.

“I hope no one will be sad.”

Even as he said it, Haeshin found his wish a little funny. Because Haeshin had never gained any sadness from his death before. No one in this world knew of Haeshin’s death, so no one could be sad.

Haeshin found that fact more of a relief than a sorrow. If someone had been sad every time he died, Haeshin would have found that sadness hard to bear. And he hoped that when his real death came one day, there would be no one who was truly sad.

“Because for me, that death will surely be a good thing.”

But unfortunately, Haeshin’s wish would probably not come true. Because Han Taejun had already become someone who could not welcome any of Cha Haeshin’s deaths.

☂️

“Shall I carry him?”

Secretary Choi asked Taejun, who was gazing intently at the soundly sleeping Haeshin. It seemed he was reluctant to wake Haeshin. Taejun shook his head.

“No. I’ll handle it, you can go home.”

“Yes, sir. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

Taejun didn’t even glance at Secretary Choi as he carefully closed the door and walked away. Taejun’s gaze remained solely on Haeshin.

He had checked on Haeshin, who had been spouting heart-wrenching things without a clue about how others felt, when he suddenly went quiet, only to find him asleep. Perhaps because he was so relaxed, Haeshin was sleeping so soundly that he didn’t even wake up when they arrived home.

“After tearing up someone’s insides.”

Taejun’s voice, echoing in the car where only the sound of breathing could be heard, was exceedingly small and cautious. Annoying was annoying, but pitiable was pitiable. Taejun hoped Haeshin, who had probably had a sleepless night, could relieve at least a little of his fatigue. It was a ridiculous thought.

‘So if I die… I mean, when I really, really die. Not some pointless death, but if I die peacefully after living a full life, I hope no one will be sad.’

Hearing those words from Haeshin, Taejun gained a certain degree of confidence in the hypothesis he had formed. With high probability, Haeshin seemed to remember the previous rounds, just like him.

If he was lucky, he would return to some day in the past without knowing why. But if he was unlucky and the regression didn’t happen by July 7th, the day of the end, Cha Haeshin’s final moment would be death. Because that’s how he would have died in the first life.

The fact that he was repeating such a miserable death was horrifying enough, but to think he remembered that death in its entirety. It was a pain he couldn’t even dare to imagine. Taejun had always thought he was burning in his own hell, but compared to what Cha Haeshin was experiencing, Taejun’s hell was shabby and insignificant.

If Taejun’s hypothesis was truly correct, then he understood everything—why Cha Haeshin was so afraid of Jin Youngmin, why he had come and knelt before him. The sense of incongruity Taejun had often felt from Haeshin also made sense.

Taejun raised his hand and brought it toward Haeshin’s face. It wasn’t a calculated action. His fingertips, which hesitated, unable to easily touch the face, soon began to carefully tidy Haeshin’s disheveled hair.

Now that he had some inkling of Haeshin’s secret, the dilemma Taejun had to face was clear. Should he be the first to say he knows, or should he wait for Haeshin to tell him? It was a dilemma he had been grappling with ever since he had formed the hypothesis.

But to the present Taejun, that dilemma felt utterly meaningless. Who knew the secret, who would confess it first—none of that mattered anymore. What was truly important was the question of how to protect Cha Haeshin.