The Bad Life – Chapter 14.2 – Raymond Goodman’s Predecessor

Author: nicotine

Teddy opened his mouth wide as soon as he recognized me.

<You, you, bastard…!>

While grabbing Teddy’s collar, I lifted him up with a flash and threw him onto the floor. Bottles and glasses shattered with a loud crash. People turned to look at our side. The bartender stamped his feet and grabbed my arm, but I lightly shook it off and stood in front of Teddy, who was collapsed on the floor groaning, with my arms crossed. Since Teddy looked up with a frown, I grinned at him.

Teddy shouted angrily.

I ignored Teddy’s protest and asked.

<…….>

The murmuring voices of people grew louder. In the end, Teddy raised his hand. I waited for him at the door with my bag. After apologizing to the customers, Teddy vented some irritation at the employee cleaning the floor and walked over with an expression of disgust.

We opened the door and came out without a word. Teddy entered a quiet pub somewhat away from the strip club. The pub was mostly filled with gays in their forties and fifties, so the atmosphere was calm and quiet. We sat side by side at the bar. Teddy rubbed his neck and glared at me with an irritated expression. I smiled at him naturally.

Teddy had once tried to rape me in the past. It was already several years ago. It was during the time when I was fighting with pimps and wandering around to find Christopher. Even though I fought, I did not cross the line. Since it was obvious who was behind the pimps, I did not want to make a big deal out of it. But among them, there seemed to be one stupid guy who particularly got on my nerves.

One pimp guy instigated Teddy to rape me and film a video. One thing that neither the pimp nor Teddy had anticipated was that I was very accustomed to such things. With just Teddy alone charging at me, not only could he not rape me, but he would end up unable to even get an erection. Nevertheless, it almost succeeded. This was because Teddy had spiked the drink glass with a cheap rape drug. If I had not witnessed that scene and had drunk the alcohol, it would have succeeded.

After breaking his head with the glass spiked with roofie, and causing a big commotion, Teddy cried profusely and confessed. Of course, it was several years ago that I chased after not only Teddy but also that pimp guy and broke one of his limbs. Even back then, Teddy was working as a manager at the strip club.

Teddy was tightly closing his mouth while staring piercingly only at the bartender making cocktails. It seemed he was still a bit scared of me. I grinned at Teddy.

<Hey.>

Teddy did not answer.

Teddy looked at me with a very irritated face.

<What? If you have business, hurry up.>

I said while taking out my wallet.

I took out Christopher’s photo and showed it.

Teddy glanced at the photo. He let out a scoff as if it was absurd and replied curtly.

<Hey, how would I know from looking at this photo? It is completely a kid’s photo.>

Teddy shook his head. I did not give up easily.

<What? You crazy bastard, if I do that, I will get fired, you bastard!>

Teddy exploded in anger. When I frowned and stared for a moment, the guy obediently closed his mouth tightly. I said nothing and just stared blankly at Teddy. Teddy endured only for a few seconds. In the end, without even touching the cocktail, he left the pub again. We returned to the strip club, but this time through the back door.

When we entered through the back door, a narrow passage continued. The smell of perfume vibrated from the passage. After going down about half a floor of stairs, there was a waiting room in the basement along with a lounge for employees. Kids who had just come down from the stage were sitting facing each other at tables counting bundles of bills, and there were also some boys rolling on the floor high on drugs. We entered the waiting room at the very end of the hallway.

The waiting room was wider than I thought. There were five or six dressing tables lined up with light bulbs, and one wall was packed full with wigs, dresses, shoes, accessories, and such. On the waiting room sofa, two men were sitting smoking cigarettes with wigs placed on their laps.

<Oh, Teddy.>

The man with a blonde wig on his lap greeted Teddy. Teddy greeted bluntly.

<Yeah, good work.>

Teddy approached the man with a red wig placed on his thigh. The man waved his hand gently at Teddy.

<Danny, this is Raymond. Raymond, this is Danny.>

Teddy introduced me to the man with the red wig. Danny extended his hand to me with a puzzled face.

I tightly grasped Danny’s hand and released it, then abruptly sat down right in front of him. Danny’s eyes widened roundly. I took out my wallet and thrust the photo at him first.

Danny, who took the photo, tilted his head.

<…I do not know. Who is it? Harry, do you know?>

The man who was putting on the blonde wig – Harry glanced at the photo and shook his head.

<…….>

Of course, I did not expect the people I met abruptly to answer <I know this person!>, but… no, it is true that I did expect it. So I was disappointed. I barely swallowed the disappointment rising up to my throat. Teddy, who had been loitering nearby, went up to the upper floor as if escaping, saying he had work to do. I belatedly greeted the two men and chatted with them. Since Danny suggested asking again when the people currently on stage come down, I was able to stay in the waiting room longer.

Harry, who had a somewhat youthful face and had finished preparing to go on stage, asked.

Actually, since Harry was not around our age, it did not seem like he would be much help. Still, for me, I had to grasp at even a straw.

<Yeah. I will be staying at Smith House at the end of the street, so leave a note at the counter.>

Harry nodded and left the waiting room. Not long after he left, the men who had finished the stage came down all at once and flocked into the waiting room. I grabbed each one and asked, but no one knew about Christine. Even when I showed the photo, no one recognized the face. It was disappointingly so. Since there was no more reason to sit in the waiting room, I picked up my bag and trudged out. I retraced the path I came in and exited through the back door.

My strength drained completely. In fact, today I could finally meet Christopher. According to the original plan, I should have met him a few hours ago. In Chedstone! How much longer do I have to chase? Is Christopher actually dead like the other predecessors? George chattered like a pig about how the other predecessors went mad and what deaths they met, but uniquely about Christopher, he did not say he went mad or died. I inquired about Christopher’s whereabouts relying on that one word from George. But it was all useless. Chasing him felt like searching for a ghost. Now I doubted if Christopher was a real existing person.

I was so tired that it was hard to even take one step after another. I slung the duffel bag over my shoulder and walked weakly toward Smith House. When I was tired of walking while bumping shoulders with people on the main street and slipped into an alley.

A terrifyingly strong force grabbed the back of my neck. The bag fell to the floor. There was no one in the dark alley. It was as if he had been ambushing. Without even a chance to counterattack, one arm was grabbed and twisted behind. He was not an ordinary guy. He knew exactly how to twist the joint. In an instant, Teddy’s face flashed in my mind.

Revenge? When I was about to turn around while gritting my teeth, my back of the head was grabbed. The man standing behind strongly gripped the back of my head and mercilessly slammed my head into the wall. The upper part of my forehead tore open at once, and blood streamed down. My damned head rang. I was careless.

As soon as I tensed my shoulder, the man mercilessly twisted the joint. It hurt enough to scream. The guy showed no sign of mercy. The arm pulled taut to the limit was precarious as if the joint would dislocate any moment. I had no choice but to relax my body. With the joint held, I could not move at all. If I resisted ignoring it, my arm would dislocate and dangle.

When I no longer resisted, the man slightly released his strength. I finally escaped the pain and breathed heavily. The blood flowing from my forehead was already dripping from the tip of my chin. My whole body was soaked in cold sweat.

As soon as I caught my breath enough to speak, I spat out.

The man did not answer. Instead of answering, he released the back of my head that he had been gripping tightly. While leaning my forehead against the wall, I rolled my eyes. An ominous premonition arose. The man swept down my nape with the back of his hand and soon slowly stroked down my spine. Without deviating an inch from expectation, that hand naturally stopped at my butt.

Teddy? Or is it the doing of that pimp I beat up along with Teddy back then? Did Teddy, who I thought went up to the strip club, actually contact the pimp to screw me over? While my mind was racing, the man’s hand squeezed my butt tightly and started kneading it freely. You dog-like bastard. Now, even if my arm twists, I wanted to confirm this fucking guy’s face. It was when I took a deep breath and was about to twist my body.

The man who had been kneading my butt smoothly pulled out the wallet from my back pants pocket. While I hesitated, the wallet dropped with a thud at my feet. The man thrust my driver’s license right in front of my eyes.

The man whispered in my ear. The low resonating voice was calm and attractive. I swallowed dryly and replied slowly.

<Yes.>

The voice, which had been heavy and weighty, suddenly changed to a high-pitched falsetto. I was so surprised by the sudden change that I could not even reply. The man asked once more in a thinly fabricated voice.

<Kid. I am asking. Who are you to keep following me around, huh?>

Following me around? In that instant, a flashing thought made my heart start pounding hard. It is not related to Teddy or the pimp or anything like that. It felt like my mind was bleaching white with tension. In no time, my mouth dried up completely, and while licking my lips with my tongue, I asked cautiously.

<Christine?>

However, even in that short call, my voice cracked.

Christine rested his chin on my shoulder. Still, his large hand was tightly gripping the joint.

<…Yes.>

The trembling gradually subsided, but ridiculously, it felt like my mind was still completely empty. I closed my eyes tightly and opened them, then said.

<So, let go of this a bit. It hurts like hell.>

Christine whispered playfully.

The first encounter with Christopher, no, Christine, was completely different from what I had imagined, but anyway, I had finally met him, and now I just wanted to see his face. I had waited for him for too long. I fidgeted my fingers and muttered.

At those words, Christine’s breathing, which had been heard in my ear, stopped abruptly.

The hand gripping my arm released. While shaking off the arm where the muscles had been pulled taut, I immediately turned around. I leaned my back against the wall and stood. He was standing right two or three steps in front of me. Christopher, whom I had searched for over eight years….

I have to admit that his appearance is different from what I imagined. He was a man much taller than me. It was because he was wearing high heels, but even if he took off the high heels, he seemed to be about as tall as me. Illuminated faintly by the streetlight, he was cross-dressed.

The green wig with sunglasses perched on it was long enough to reach down to the elbows, and the outfit of a crop top clinging tightly to the upper body and a pencil skirt covering the knees fully revealed a solid muscular build. The large hand that had gripped and twisted my joint had mint-colored manicure neatly applied, and the sturdy wrist had a women’s wristwatch with the chain extended fastened on it.

It was not just that. He had a face with flashy makeup. With false eyelashes attached, eyeliner drawn thickly, and pink lipstick applied, the face showed no resemblance at all to the photo of Christopher that I had been carrying around. No wonder no one recognized him.

In silence, we probed each other for quite a while. Finally, Christine placed his splendid arm, which was as solidly muscled as mine, primly on his waist and asked.

The blood flowing from my forehead had already dampened my shirt wetly. I pulled up the shirt to roughly wipe my forehead and face, then picked up the wallet that had fallen on the floor. Silently, I extended my hand to Christine. My driver’s license was wedged between his fingers. Christine just stared at me blankly without saying anything. I barely held my gaze on his face, away from the chest protruding convexly like a woman’s and the hem of the skirt about to fall, and blinked my eyes.

Christine shook his head.

Christine casually slipped the driver’s license into his top. Without realizing it, I hurriedly turned my head. Christine, who had pushed my ID into his undergarment (it seemed like that anyway), lifted his chin and said.

When blood kept flowing from my forehead, Christine handed me a handkerchief. It was a clean white lace handkerchief that made me feel sorry to borrow it. I pressed the handkerchief firmly on the wound and slung the bag that had fallen on the floor over my shoulder. Without asking anything, I followed behind Christine. Christine went deeper between the alleys. As we entered the back alleys, male prostitutes openly doing business became commonly visible. Christine familiarly pushed through among them.

Every time the huge man moved his feet, a light shoe sound rang out. The green hair hanging down to the waist lightly bobbed with each step, and it was hard to take my eyes off the curve of the buttocks revealed over the skirt or the straight legs in high heels. There were differences from the vague image of Christopher I had imagined, but above all, he was tremendously… big. Most people were two or three heads shorter than Christine. Even in this ordinary alley, he drew all the people’s gazes onto himself.

We crossed the street, turned into several alleys, and finally arrived in front of a shabby and suspicious iron door. He, standing at an angle, lightly knocked on the iron door. A moment later, I realized that the iron door was the back door of some restaurant.

We passed through the bustling and noisy main kitchen where people swarmed and the warehouses stacked with ingredients, then went up a small and narrow staircase. Walking straight along the corridor that appeared at the top of the stairs, this time a sparkling and luxurious door appeared. Christine pushed the door with an elegant hand gesture. We were standing on the second floor of some restaurant.

As if there was a designated seat, Christine sat at a certain table without guidance from the staff. It was a seat next to the railing where the first-floor hall was fully visible below. I plopped down opposite Christine and looked around the restaurant. The second floor had almost no tables. There were only a few next to the railing and by the windows, the spacing between tables was wide, and even those few tables were all full.

It was only then that I realized one thing: in this restaurant, including the first and second floors, the only person in a t-shirt and jeans outfit, especially a shirt stained with blood, was me. Everyone was dressed neatly in formal attire. It was a high-end restaurant with a dress code. The out-of-place people were me, and Christine, who was just as strange as me; just the two of us.

Christine, who had been watching me with his chin propped on the back of his hand, abruptly called my name. Without speaking, I just glanced at him. Christine seemed to have merely repeated my name, as he said nothing more.

The wound on my forehead seemed to have stopped bleeding, since even when I removed the handkerchief, blood no longer flowed. Not knowing what to do with the blood-stained handkerchief, I clutched it, then, feeling embarrassed to return it, just put it in my pocket. Christine, who had been watching that, smiled softly, and for some reason, my ears turned red.

Before opening my mouth, a staff member approached without a sound of footsteps and placed wine glasses in front of us. The staff filled the glasses without even looking at my blood-covered face and disappeared. I rubbed my cheek where the bloodstains had dried crustily and looked at Christine.

Somehow… it seems like things will become much harder than I thought. After the silence, I opened my mouth.

While removing the sunglasses perched on the wig, Christine nodded.

Christine leaned back in the chair. He sat with his legs crossed in an arrogant expression and lifted his chin instead of answering.

<Honey.>

Christine, with his arms crossed, lightly cut off the words. I closed my mouth and looked at him. Christine took a sip of wine and crossed his arms again. With his head raised, he glared at me straight with blue eyes. Somehow, those eyes were frightening.

At the cold words, I, who was already tense, completely lost my words. During the brief silence that ensued, the staff placed appetizers in front of us. I could not even touch them and was clenching my fists tightly. On the other hand, Christine started eating ostentatiously without paying any attention to my side.

It seemed to mean do not hesitate and spill it quickly. But the words did not come out of my mouth. This was because it was words I had never said before. Above all, I already had a premonition that the words I had would be of no use to Christine.

I had wandered searching for him for eight years. I had dreamed of this moment for eight years. I had imagined the first meeting with Christine countless times, but among them, there was no scene like now. Christine will not help me. I had a premonition.

The time of the past eight years is about to become bubbles in front of him. Probably right in the next moment, it will become so. Half not wanting to admit it, half wanting to cling to the already fading hope, the words could not come out of my mouth and just gloomily pooled under my tongue. In the midst of the conflict, I silently looked at Christine.

In the meantime, Christine, who had finished the appetizers, raised his head. The staff cleared all the plates from the table. I was still looking at him without speaking. The words did not come out.

At that moment, Christine glared at me.

He said coldly.

My hand clenching into a fist trembled with anxiety and tension. I really had to speak. For eight years I searched for you, I, I am, I absolutely have something to say to you…. At that time, Christine leaned back in the chair and added coldly.

<…….>

It felt like being doused with cold water.

Christine left me alone and beckoned the staff over with a hand gesture. He, giving various instructions to the staff, looked completely different from me. I blankly looked around at Christine and the high-end restaurant he had.

Why did I think Christine would also be wandering like me? Why on earth did I not think that he might have found his own answer. I was damned stupid. I placed the handkerchief I had been clutching all along on the table.

I slung the bag at my feet over my shoulder and turned around. I moved my steps slowly and opened the door I had first entered through and went out. I crossed the corridor and went down along the narrow staircase. I passed through the kitchen and warehouses and exited out through that shabby iron door I had first entered. Behind my back, the door closed with a bang sound. The bag strap dug into my shoulder. My forehead stung a bit. I moved my steps along the alley without orienting the direction. Tired, I walked slowly passing a few people who came out to throw trash, and then, and then, suddenly, for a reason I do not know, I plopped down on the street.

Perhaps now everything might be a passed matter. The boys who frequented the <Club> that I had tracked until now are like that. They now bury the mistakes of the past and live new lives. They go to companies, date or get married, upload photos of their dogs on Facebook, go on dates to movie theaters, or gather at pubs on days with soccer games to drink beer. Christine is no different from those boys. Unlike me, for him, the past entangled with Hugh is all a passed matter. It is memories he does not want to turn back and distant past matters he wants to bury.

Yes. Perhaps that is life. Some things are just forgotten, let flow with time, entrusted to time, and living just like that is life. One cannot remember everything. Time flows anyway, and even if I stubbornly remain in that place alone, eventually some things are worn away by time, fade, discolor, and disappear. No matter how much I try to hold on. No matter how much I struggle to remember, some memories, some faces not met for a long time, are bound to be forgotten. The dead boys too… layers of time pile up over those deaths. Perhaps that is life. Perhaps it is the truth of life that I alone did not know. Sadly, leaving behind the past that cannot be changed now, the living people live on, and the old memories are gradually buried and sink under the new memories that the surviving people’s lives build up… I am being forgotten. All

unfortunate

lives

are being forgotten. All disgrace and hatred are being forgotten. But if that is life.

I jumped up suddenly. I slung the bag over my shoulder, turned around, and started walking. I began running until my breath rose up to the tip of my chin. I pounded on the shabby iron door that I had entered with Christine with my fists, bang bang. A moment later, someone opened the door for me. Without saying anything, I pushed that person aside, passed through the kitchen and the warehouses, jumped up the stairs two or three steps at a time, passed through the corridor, and flung open the door. Christine was still sitting at that table, having his meal. At the seat where I had stormed out, my portion of food was cooling down.

Christine put down his knife and looked up at me with raised eyes. I strode over to him.

I pleaded with a voice that was roughly cracked.

<…….>

<Alone… alone… it is hard.>

Christine looked at me blankly with an expressionless face. He pointed to the opposite seat with his fork.

<Sit.>

Instead of sitting, I looked at Christine. He wiggled his fork.

Ridiculously, upon hearing Christine’s words, I suddenly felt extremely famished. My stomach felt like it was being scraped with a rake, I was so hungry. I threw away the feeling of wanting to burst into tears like a child, along with the bag onto the floor. Without saying anything, I plopped down onto the chair and picked up the knife and fork.

I did not care about table manners or anything like that. I cut the half-cooled chunk of meat haphazardly and stuffed it into my mouth until my cheeks puffed up fully. When I cleaned the plate in the blink of an eye, Christine blinked his wide-open eyes.

<…….>

There was no story about the top-floor boys. There were no words about helping or being helped. We did not pour out our past lives, nor did we ask about each other. Instead, Christine kept filling the empty plates. Every time the glass emptied, he poured wine fully. I swallowed the dishes presented by an excellent chef without tasting them, and drank the expensive wine like water.

When I put down the fork and knife, I could not even remember how many glasses of wine I had emptied. The restaurant was silent. The first floor below the railing seemed to have finished closing, as it was empty and most of the lights were off. On the second floor, except for Christine and me, two people, there was no one else. Christine was watching me with his arms crossed, and when our eyes met, he pushed his own wine glass toward me.

I was already too drunk and dizzy, but my throat was dry, so I hurriedly accepted and drank it. When I emptied the glass, even sitting still felt torturous as my vision was so dizzy. I leaned back in the chair and exhaled languidly.

<Now, have you filled your stomach a bit?>

<…….>

Instead of answering, I blinked my eyes slowly. It was a bit hot.

Christine, propping his arm on the table, felt distant. I watched the hair cascading over his shoulder. No, it was not hair, it was a wig, that was a wig.

<So. What should I help you with?>

<…….>

Is it really a wig?

Maybe not. I jumped up from my seat. My head spun dizzily, and I staggered. I shook my head once, approached Christine, and cautiously extended my hand. Christine pulled his chin back as if to avoid, but soon realized the intention and left it alone. The hair touched by my fingertips ― the wig was much softer and smoother than I had thought. I had thought it would be stiff and rough because of the strange color.

When I inserted my fingers and stroked down, the hair, I mean, the wig slipped softly through my fingers. It felt like I could stroke it forever like this.

<This… is this your real hair?>

<…….>

Christine just looked at me. I continued stroking the hair.

I muttered and stroked once more.

<Honey.>

Christine narrowed his eyes and asked as if it was absurd.

I looked at him and then lowered my head. It had been hot all along. My insides felt a bit hot too. No, it felt extremely hot….

<What?>

My legs gave out.

It was true. I was sleepy. I clumsily sat down on the floor, blankly looked up at Christine, and then, my head was too heavy. Just a moment… if I sleep just a moment, then… The moment I leaned my forehead on the table leg, uncontrollable drowsiness surged in. My consciousness faded away just like that.

My throat was dry. My throat was very dry. I pulled the blanket together and curled up. I was still sleepy and too lazy to get up. I exhaled while burying my face deeply into the blanket. The fluffy blanket smelled good. The texture of the blanket touching my skin was soft. I rubbed my face against the blanket. Drowsiness surged in. I wanted to fall asleep again. I gradually fell into sleep, forgetting that my throat was dry. Until a delicious smell wafted over.

My eyes opened wide. Waking up to the smell of food was excessively unfamiliar to me.

I came down from the bed as if rolling off. It was a place I had never been to in my life. I had no idea where this was. While looking around the neatly decorated bedroom, I suddenly recalled the fact that I had met Christine yesterday. In an instant, dizziness arose, and I almost sat down. To make matters worse, I was wearing only underwear.

I had absolutely no memory of what on earth had happened. I swear this was the first time for something like this. I flusteredly looked around inside the bedroom. On the chair placed at the foot of the bed, there was a robe. It was a fluffy pink robe that girls would wear, but I did not care at all.

When I tried on the robe, it unexpectedly fit perfectly. I tied the waist string and sneaked out of the bedroom barefoot. I went down the stairs and followed straight to where the delicious smell was coming from, and I saw a large man wearing the same pink robe as me. It was a man with a wig net over his short-cut black-brown hair. I could tell who it was without even looking at his face.

I felt like I had never been this humiliated before. My face heated up red to the point of being hot. I did not even have the confidence to look at his face, so I lowered my head deeply and made a presence known. My ears were burning.

<Hmm. Um.>

I was so embarrassed that words did not come out properly.

<Umm… um.>

<Oh, you woke up early?>

On the other hand, Christine’s voice answering was quite cheerful.

<F, f, fine.>

I stammered pathetically. I have no idea if my insides are nauseous or what. I was just embarrassed. When I stammered, Christine laughed openly.

<…….>

I wanted to die. I could not apologize without looking at his face, so I barely raised my head. My face was hot enough that my cheeks felt warm.

<…Sor… sorry.>

Christine placed his hand on his side and nodded.

<Yes, you should be sorry. Do you know how heavy you are?>

<…….>

I nodded and quickly turned my body, but stopped. I turned back to him and muttered with a face still bright red.

<Um… uh, Christine, my, clothes are….>

<Well… honey, do you not remember anything from last night?>

I remembered nothing at all. When I stood still without speaking, Christine giggled frivolously and, instead of telling me about last night, told me the location of the bathroom. Without complaining, I turned my body and fled to the bathroom.

Even while showering, my face kept burning. After washing with cold water and cleanly shaving, I came out wearing the robe again, and there were clothes on the chair next to the bathroom. The dirty shirt with bloodstains had been cleanly washed and folded.

I could not believe I had done something like this past thirty. I squatted on the floor with my face buried in the shirt and sighed. From the moment I met Christine, not a single thing had gone as I planned.

I sluggishly put on the clothes, hung the robe on the chair, and returned to the kitchen with my shoulders slumped like a guilty person. Christine was just placing dishes on the dining table. I avoided his smiling face and sat on the chair without speaking.

When I glanced at the clock on the wall, it was already noon. Even if it was sleeping in, there is a limit…. I really wanted to die from embarrassment. In all my life until now, I had never been indebted to someone in this way even once. Especially not to a person I met for the first time yesterday. So in a situation like this… I have no idea what to do or how. My mouth just dried up completely.

<Eat, quickly.>

Christine said kindly. Instead of picking up the utensils, I cautiously raised only my eyes to gauge his reaction. Christine was sitting with his arm draped over the chair, looking at me with an expression as if he was having the time of his life. The robe was wide open, revealing the white lace-trimmed camisole he was wearing underneath. There was absolutely no place to put my eyes.

Christine said in a tone that was obviously teasing.

<…Sorry.>

I apologized in a voice that was creeping in.

Christine said in an exaggerated tone.

Even though I knew Christine was teasing me, my head dropped lower and lower to the floor. It was only after a while, when Christine burst into laughter saying it was nothing, that I could finally raise my head a little.

After teasing enough, Christine pushed the stew bowl right up to my nose, telling me to eat quickly. I finally picked up the spoon. The stew was unexpectedly very delicious, so even in the midst of that, I cleaned the bowl completely. Fortunately, during the meal, Christine did not tease me anymore. After finishing the meal, Christine brewed tea. When I was just fingering the fancy floral-patterned teacup, Christine sat with his solid muscular arms crossed and lifted his chin.

At those words, I looked at Christine, braving the embarrassment. My cheeks were still flushed reddish. Christine looked at me silently with a serious face and then suddenly burst into laughter.

<Pfft! Pu, puhuhu, ah, sorry, really, I am sorry. What should I do really. I am going crazy.>

Christine wiped the tears pooling in his eyes with his finger and cleared his throat. I bit my lips tightly without replying and barely managed to face him. Christine looked at me blankly with an expression tinged with laughter, and then whispered <Acting cute though….> in a low and attractive voice without falsetto. After giving an embarrassing compliment to a man over two meters tall from a marine background, Christine casually smiled and adjusted his wig net. Instead, my face turned red, and I averted my gaze.

His voice returned to falsetto again.

<Well, so. What did you say you wanted to talk about?>

<You….>

I muttered while looking at him with my ears red. It felt strange to talk about this in this atmosphere, but now it would be ridiculous to create a solemn or serious atmosphere. So, in an ordinary and light atmosphere that I had never experienced before, I talked about the top-floor boys.

My cheeks were still burning, but I steadfastly continued.

A brief silence flowed. Christine looked at me with a calm face without any particular change. He slowly licked his lips that were not yet made up and opened his mouth.

<…….>

It was not a question of how they died, but who killed them. From that tone, I got the impression that he was asking about a fact he already knew. Perhaps Christine had also had a premonition. About what kind of person I am, who desperately searched for him just to deliver the obituary of Hugh and George.

Christine let out a sound that was unclear if it was a reply or a sigh, <Hmm.> That was all. He just looked at me silently while tapping his lips with his fingertip. It was certainly not the reaction I had expected. But since I had already received reactions different from expectations from Christine several times, I was not disappointed like before.

Nevertheless, the area around my chest felt heavy. Christine might not sympathize with me. Leaving aside Hugh, whose death was reported on a large scale, he did not ask at all about George’s death. In fact, he showed no sign of curiosity. The laughter disappeared from his face, but that was it. I looked for a moment at Christine’s fingertip tapping his lips. The mint-colored manicure was slightly peeled at the tip.

While feeling gloomy, the reason I did not storm out of my seat was because of the faintly remaining expectation. Christine avoided while knowing what words I wanted, showed interest close to indifference, and shot back harshly, but in the end, he did not kick me out. Even though I showed such disgrace last night, he even washed the clothes with bloodstains overnight. When I stormed out of the restaurant and returned, he left my portion of the plate untouched and intact.

Perhaps he… Christine is, to the point of seeming to have no interest at all, just very cautious, and maybe he does not really have no interest. Such expectation remained faintly.

Christine lit a cigarette without any particular reaction. While smelling the pungent cigarette smoke, I calmly continued.

<…….>

<…….>

<Well. Would it be.>

Christine said ambiguously while smoking his cigarette.

Suddenly my throat was dry, but instead of drinking tea, I rubbed my sweat-pooled hands on my pants. If Christine personally changed my clothes last night, he must have seen certain scars engraved on my body. For me, those scars have now become as natural as if they were part of my body from the beginning, but most people flinch in surprise when they see those scars. Eight years ago, the phrase <Incest Child> engraved by George still remained in a somewhat faded red color in the intimate place between my legs.

After returning to England, during the nearly ten years of tracking the top-floor boys, I met numerous lovers but never explained this to any of them. No, after this tattoo was engraved, I never explained it to any single person. Feeling a strange sense of kinship and fear toward Christine, I opened my mouth.

Christine neither denied nor affirmed with an ambiguous expression.

I looked down blankly at my legs.

<…….>

The cigarette held in Christine’s fingers had already burned down to the filter. As if he had not realized, Christine flinched in surprise, threw the cigarette into the ashtray, and lit a new one. I looked at the cigarette butt faintly smoking in the ashtray.

Only after killing Hugh did I learn the fact that Karl was dead. When killing George, I did not think at all about James who was miserably murdered. It was not like that. When I killed those kids, it felt like…

<…….>

Christine suddenly opened his mouth. I, who had been blankly looking at the ashtray, flinched and raised my head. Christine’s face, which had been calm all along, had his mouth twisted as if barely suppressing excitement. That excitement felt like anger directed at me, making my chest feel chilly. In that moment, a low voice I had heard more than ten years ago came to mind.

What about my other predecessors? Did those kids also have nothing to lose like me? Could those boys resist like me? The words that Dave Watson had blurted out while ugly crying came to mind.

<Ordinary, just, an ordinary kid….>

In the church of Chedstone where the evening mass had begun, singing sounds flowed out, and I stood in front of the tombstone of Alex Moore and Melissa Moore, looking over their deaths with an indifferent feeling. The blunt voice of the cemetery keeper old man came to mind again.

The photo of the extremely ordinary Christopher was still tucked in my wallet. A boy preparing for a swimming competition who was as ordinary as could be. There was another photo of Christopher that vividly came to my mind for over ten years. A boy in a brothel sitting on some man’s lap wearing a tight-fitting t-shirt and jeans.

When Christine opened his mouth, I was startled as if pricked by a nail and almost stepped back involuntarily.

<…….>

<…….>

Christine whispered in a high-pitched falsetto as if mocking.

He roughly stubbed out the cigarette and put his hand into the camisole. Christine took out my driver’s license from under the chest strap and threw it onto the dining table. I blankly looked down at the license rolling next to the teacup.

Christine, tying his robe, stood up and said coldly.

I could neither answer nor move. Silence flowed, and I heard Christine let out a small sigh. When our eyes met again, he had a slightly softened face. He gently stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. But I could feel that hand was faintly trembling. Christine said soothingly.

He removed his hand from me.

He left me at the dining table and departed.

Perhaps his mind was decided from the time he pretended not to see the tattoo. No, actually, it might have been decided from last night. I looked down at the teacup and took a sip of the cooled tea. I slowly smoked the cigarette Christine had left behind. It might be, or it might not be. In fact, when and how Christine reached the current conclusion no longer felt important.

I kept thinking. About the two photos of Christopher. About the voice that had angrily mocked me. About the words that denied the deaths of Hugh and George or denied that I killed Hugh and George. About Christine who had hurriedly fled from Chedstone. About the shirt that had been reddened with blood from being hit by him, and the shirt that had been cleanly washed overnight. About last night when I begged him for help and the confession I could not tell anyone. And I glared at the empty chair opposite.

Author's Thoughts

There are numerous stimulating scenes involving rape, gang rape, violence, abuse, and drugs. Please practice discretion as you proceed.

Join my discord to be updated on advance chapter, free chapter updates!