Actually, It’s a Messy Melodrama Chapter 65

Taejun opened his eyes in the quiet darkness of the dawn. He stared at the dimly visible space, and as he blinked, a single tear that had welled up ran down his cheek.

His own voice, weeping in the last cycle, echoed in his ears like tinnitus. That scream, like a swamp, dragged Taejun’s emotions into the depths.

A torrent of unbearable information had poured down on him in an instant, making it difficult for him to regain his composure.

At best, he had thought Haeshin was simply a person who, like himself, retained his memories before the regression. That alone was heartbreaking.

Han Taejun, who repeated a comfortable life in a comfortable environment every time, was on the verge of losing his mind from the repeated regressions, but he couldn’t bear to see Cha Haeshin, who not only repeatedly regressed to a difficult life but also had to remember his own death if he was unlucky.

So he struggled to save Cha Haeshin. Because he didn’t want to see Haeshin die anymore, at least in the cycles where his own life continued.

He wanted to give Haeshin a life where he didn’t die and wasn’t unhappy, even if the regression suddenly happened one day, and he wanted to give Cha Haeshin that kind of life in the next cycle, and the cycle after that.

But the truth was that saving Cha Haeshin was essentially extending Han Taejun’s life. He felt like laughing at the sense of emptiness that was hard to define.

Taejun truly regressed at the most random times. While eating, while sleeping, even while working normally at the company. Since he didn’t know the reason, he couldn’t prepare or cope.

That meant Cha Haeshin died every time. The cause of regression, the timing of regression, the answers to all those questions he could never guess, was Cha Haeshin.

“Fucking hell, really.”

Taejun swore and slowly sat up. The terrible deaths that must have occurred inside that thick iron door, which never opened no matter how much he knocked, hovered around Taejun like ghosts.

Han Taejun was the only other person in the world who remembered Cha Haeshin’s death. The immense weight of life and death crushed Taejun’s shoulders. However, Taejun was not intimidated by the pressure of that weight.

Taejun now knew the person who resolutely stepped over his own death and moved forward. He knew the person who willingly knelt even before someone hopeless, instead of giving up and sitting down, to somehow survive.

In the life that Cha Haeshin hadn’t given up on, Han Taejun couldn’t dare to act weak.

Taejun slowly checked today’s date and got dressed. It was past 4 a.m., but it didn’t matter. There was someone he needed to see and talk to immediately. A resolute solemnity clouded Taejun’s face as he left the room. After letting countless days slip by, Taejun was finally standing at the starting point, ready to begin the real fight.

☂️

“Hoo…”

Haeshin, sitting on an old chair outside the dilapidated main gate, let out a deep sigh. Although the returned season was a sultry summer, even at night, Haeshin’s body still felt the cold as if it were midwinter.

“Focus.”

Haeshin murmured, habitually tapping his cheek. His cheek, already struck several times, was red and swollen.

Only after dying once more at Jin Youngmin’s hands could Haeshin regain his composure. It had truly been a long time since he had been this emotionally devastated.

Expectations, hope, are this terrifying. When he couldn’t see the future, he could endure any failure, but when he experienced an unexpected loss while full of hope, he instantly crumbled.

Because of the suicide, in the last cycle, he regressed to the worst possible moment and died at Jin Youngmin’s hands without a chance to do anything. It was the most terrible moment, one he never got used to, no matter how many times he experienced it.

But what filled Haeshin’s mind now was not the moment of death, but Han Taejun’s face.

“Now I can’t even apologize…”

Haeshin muttered sadly. The moment he was hit by the car and fell to the ground, Haeshin vaguely felt the embrace fiercely holding him.

He couldn’t see the face or properly hear the voice, but Haeshin was sure it must have been Han Taejun. Because Han Taejun was the only person who could offer such a warm embrace for his death.

In the end, the kindness, which was like salvation, that Taejun showed him, had all come to naught. Haeshin couldn’t even offer him a proper apology now.

Did he read the letter? How did he feel? He must have been frustrated because he couldn’t understand anything. He must have also felt betrayed seeing him throw himself in front of the car.

Meaningless thoughts flitted through Haeshin’s mind. But what did frustration matter, or feeling betrayed? It was all undone anyway.

In fact, the act of leaving a letter in the first place was meaningless. There was no reason to have lingering attachments to a world that would completely disappear.

“That’s enough, Cha Haeshin. Focus, seriously.”

With his emotions growing heavier, Haeshin slapped his cheek loudly with both hands this time and stood up. There was no time for unnecessary sentimentality. A new cycle had begun, and it was time to run again.

Although he had failed due to unexpected circumstances, he hadn’t gained absolutely nothing. First, Haeshin found a new exit in Han Taejun. He didn’t know if Taejun would help Haeshin again, both materially and spiritually, as he did last time, but just having someone to place his hopes on again was a great achievement.

Although he had regressed to a less favorable time period than before, it was still in the shantytown, so it wasn’t the worst. He just needed to create a connection with Han Taejun somehow, even by using Jin Youngmin, and get another chance.

“…”

However, Haeshin’s determined expression, despite his resolve, was only gloomy, unlike his resolve.

The Han Taejun he would meet again would not know Cha Haeshin. There would be nothing left of the time they shared or the emotional exchange.

He couldn’t hope for the same warm or playful attitude as before. Perhaps he would look at him with colder, more suspicious eyes.

Haeshin closed his eyes with a feeling of devastation. His heart was sorrowful. He remembered the Han Taejun who said he would definitely protect him, the one who explored his mouth with a hot tongue and breath.

Until now, he had nothing, so he had nothing to lose, but Haeshin felt a sense of loss as if he had lost a great treasure for the first time.

Could he become that close with Han Taejun again? Could they share that emotional exchange again, which was slightly uncomfortable but never disliked? Would Han Taejun look at him warmly again like he did then?

Dizzying and pessimistic thoughts sharply pierced Haeshin’s heart.

He had never had an easy start even once, so why did he feel such a void and hopelessness this time, even when the path was visible? Haeshin dropped his gaze to the floor at the incomprehensible emptiness.

It was then. He faintly heard footsteps from the bottom of the stairs far away. Haeshin quickly lifted his bowed head. His body instantly tensed up.

It was past 4 a.m., an excessively early dawn for anyone to be walking around.

Was it the fear of encountering a stranger in the still-dark alley? His heart began to pound even though he didn’t know who was coming up.

If he was scared, he could avoid it. His house was right behind him. Although it was incredibly shabby, Haeshin had enough space to take refuge.

Yet, Haeshin just stopped there. Strangely, the thought of running away didn’t occur to him. His heartbeat grew more intense, and the footsteps approached faster to match it.

The moment the sound became somewhat clearer, Haeshin instinctively rose from the chair. An unknown anticipation filled his entire body.

Soon, a human silhouette slowly appeared above the narrow stone steps. Leaving behind the persistent, poor shadows of the neighborhood that had even swallowed the streetlights, there stood a man with intensely red-rimmed eyes.

“Ah…”

Haeshin gasped briefly and took a step back. The old chair hitting his leg let out a groaning sound.

The man, with his tall height and sturdy build, disheveled hair, and pale face, looking like an envoy from hell, stood facing Cha Haeshin, his eyes shining intensely.

The name of the grim reaper was Han Taejun.

“How, how…”

Haeshin spoke first in a trembling voice. But his words couldn’t be completed. His heart was beating so fiercely that he was short of breath.

Han Taejun was a person who shouldn’t be here now. He couldn’t be.

Was it a dream? Was it because he yearned for Han Taejun so desperately, even missing him as if he hadn’t seen him in a very long time, that he was dreaming?

Taejun was standing only three or four steps away from Haeshin, but Haeshin felt as if the space between them was shimmering like a dream.

After a long and tense silence, Haeshin managed to speak again.

“Representative-nim, coming here… Ugh…”

And right at that moment, Taejun, who closed the distance in one swoop, roughly grabbed Haeshin’s collar and pulled his face close, right up to his own.

Only at that close distance could Haeshin perceive the true emotion in Taejun’s eyes. A wounded, suffering soul was right there.

Han Taejun opened his mouth, clutching Haeshin’s collar with a trembling hand.

“Never… never again…”

The voice, spat out through clenched teeth, sounded like a sob. Haeshin reflexively raised his hand and grabbed Taejun’s wrist. Not to pull away, but because he looked precarious.

Han Taejun knew nothing right now, he was a person who had never met Cha Haeshin, but why did the eyes of the Taejun facing him look so wistful, like someone who had searched for Cha Haeshin for a very long time?

As if answering the doubts shaking Haeshin, Taejun spoke.

“Don’t die in front of me again.”