The Bad Life – Chapter 17.3 – My Villain, My Monster, My Lover

Author: nicotine

The wife immediately started the truck. The scenery outside that brushed past through the car window was a small and isolated coastal village. While sharply cutting into the quiet and dark country road with the yellow headlights, we quickly left the village behind.

It was around the time when my body, which had been trembling uncontrollably thanks to the heater, finally began to calm down. Mrs. Stella, who had been silently focused on driving, opened her mouth. She spoke indifferently in a husky and low middle-aged woman’s characteristically tired voice.

<…At school. We attended the same school.>

Mrs. Stella scratched her stubbly and rough chin with whiskers as she spoke.

<It’s already been more than ten years, hasn’t it? I heard back then that the youngest young master had caused a major accident once and was made to stay at some rural school until it could be sorted out. I never dreamed even in my wildest thoughts that he wouldn’t be able to return after that time…. You did something big.>

<…….>

<But… was Jerome together with the youngest young master… like that?>

The tone that still called Jerome softly made me uncomfortable. I replied roughly.

Mrs. Stella, who had been turning the radio channel with the hand not gripping the steering wheel, tilted her head.

<People’s hearts are truly unpredictable things.>

There was no way that could be true. I tried to deny it outright, but suddenly… I remembered a certain moment when I had vaguely sensed the crack between them. I recalled how George had hated Jerome so much back then that he even wished for his death. Throughout the entire time he was commissioning me to kill Jerome, George had rambled on in a voice that couldn’t suppress his excitement. And when I failed to kill Jerome, he had shown obvious disappointment and regret. It wasn’t just George. From that time, Jerome’s low voice whispering that I shouldn’t become Hugh and George’s dog echoed in my ears once more. It was the same in Liverpool too. Jerome had sided with George, yet he had welcomed his pain. The face of Jerome, blooming wide with joy in the darkness as he casually asked if I felt better after I had beaten George as much as I wanted, urinated on his face until I left him there, appeared vividly before my eyes….

My mind, which had been dazed for a moment by Mrs. Stella’s quietly continuing words, suddenly bristled with anger once again.

<What do you even know about <Jerome>? You don’t know anything! Quit with the bullshit about whether it’s believable or not!>

Mrs. Stella calmly asked back.

<Wasn’t it you who asked me to tell you about Jerome? Aren’t you the one who knows almost nothing about that guy?>

I tried to deny it. I tried to talk about how cruel and horrific that boy was as a human being. I tried to snap that there couldn’t be anyone who knew that bastard better than I did. But with my mouth open, I couldn’t say a single word. The whisper not to become Hugh and George’s dog. The face that turned away pretending not to know in the stable, in <Kelly>, at the moment when just one step forward would have done it. The proposal to let him escape to China… to India. All of Jerome’s contradictions, from unfastening the collar Hugh had put on to unlocking the handcuffs George had fastened, suddenly surged up and made my tongue unable to move.

Both Mrs. Stella and I silently gazed only at the scenery brushing past beyond the window. The anger that had flared up like an ominous fire had subsided before I knew it, leaving me with a hollow feeling. I didn’t want to admit Mrs. Stella’s words, but I had no choice but to admit them. I don’t know Jerome. And I desperately wanted to know about Jerome.

<…I tried to find out. For a very long time.>

<…….>

I looked at the faint twinkling lights in the distance.

I met them at twenty. It was just one season of summer, from late spring until before the summer rainy season arrived. However, that was sufficient time for them. After the summer at Bluebell, those guys were eternally imprinted in my life. When we reunited at twenty-five, we likewise failed to even complete that one season and parted ways. After that, nearly ten years had passed without us meeting again. Yet those guys were still dominating my life as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

<…….>

<Actually, the only times I’ve exchanged words with him were recent, and before that, it was just a brief glimpse. He probably doesn’t even remember meeting me back then.>

Mrs. Stella’s tone confused me. The wife kept talking about Jerome, about him, as if he were my predecessor or something. An instinctive sense of rejection welled up. It was strange and unpleasant and confusing. It was similar to the feeling of looking at Christopher standing side by side with Jerome.

I talked about Hugh and George, Jerome and Simon, whom I knew.

I was trying to kill Jerome and Simon. I was trying to find the most painful way for them and kill them. I had endured the past eight years with the single-minded determination to get revenge on them. And I failed to kill Jerome. I blankly stared at my face reflected in the dim car window. I failed to kill Jerome. I was afraid to speak the reason why I couldn’t kill him.

Mrs. Stella, who had been calm throughout, spoke in a fairly lively manner.

<Yes.>

As a knife came to mind, I replied in a gloomy mood.

<Well. I know almost nothing. I tried to look into it a bit, but after Hugh died, the whole family wrapped up their private lives so tightly that it would have been possible only if I could dig something out. It was only recently that I barely got to know his brother Timothy by face. What I knew about him from the time he was at Bluebell was that he was a swimmer, that he wanted to go to Cambridge, and also, that he was dating George….>

Suddenly, I recalled Jerome who always came to our room at four in the afternoon.

<…And that he was Jerome’s friend, about that much.>

At that moment, Mrs. Stella let out a hollow laugh. I had been lost in thought and blankly continuing my words, so I turned to the side in surprise. The wife gave a weary smile and asked.

<Yes. He said it with his own mouth, and Jerome’s attitude was like that too.>

<Attitude, you say….>

<…….>

This kind of riddling back and forth was tiresome.

<Stop beating around the bush and just tell me, Mrs. Stella. What is this debt that Jerome owes to <The Club>? And what do you mean by saying he hated Hugh to death?>

The wife gazed at the road with a pensive face as if choosing her words. The country road seemed to stretch on endlessly. The scenery hardly changed, giving the illusion that we were circling the same place round and round instead. Unable to bear the frustration and about to urge her on, the wife opened her mouth.

The midnight country road had only us on it. Even so, on the dark and eerie road illuminated by the yellow headlights, with the roadside trees wrapped in darkness and the empty fields stretching beyond, it felt as if someone was secretly hiding and eavesdropping on our confidential conversation. It was that shocking of a secret…. The hidden background of the top-floor boys, which I had searched for over eight years without even grasping a clue, I fumbled to understand for a moment without comprehending it.

<You? It’s different from you.>

Mrs. Stella spoke in the same calm tone as at the beginning.

<…Hugh.>

<…….>

<Well, that’s because we are dogs.>

Suddenly, Jamie’s blood-smeared face came to mind. An utterly ordinary man who had been dragged around here and there, mercilessly trampled and violated. An unremarkable regular guy who had conversed with me ordinarily. I recalled the things I had to endure because I tried to save that man, the way they handled us.

<Since you said you went to Watersby’s <The Club>, you must have felt firsthand how great a power the Dunwell family holds.>

<…Why is that?>

<The Dunwell family has been continuing their family business for over a hundred years. And not just continuing it, but they have built it very successfully. <Merian> is the second most sold cigarette after Marlboro, right? Think about it: for the only two brothers in that family, does it look like there’s anything in this world they can’t have?>

<Mrs. Stella, stop beating around the bush….>

Only then did I realize what kind of story Mrs. Stella was trying to tell.

The conversation was starting to show a bit of a clue about where it was heading. The soles of my feet, which had felt almost no pain, began to throb slightly. All the nerves in my body tensed up sharply.

I had always harbored doubts about that point myself. Jerome was erased as if he did not exist in this world. He was never mentioned in articles or even photographed once. During the long years of chasing after him, his name never came up in people’s mouths even once. He was a person who did not exist in the British royal family. His name was not listed in any official documents related to the royal family.

At first, I thought it was simply because Jerome was a crazy guy. I figured he had just caused some incident and been sent to that rural backwater like being exiled. I assumed he had just been sent to that rural backwater to quietly reflect and live. But even so, a long time had passed. Jerome was still a person who did not exist in the royal family. The grand wedding of the Cambridge Duke and Duchess held this spring, I had even checked the broadcast just in case, but as expected, there was no mention of Jerome. Up to now, Jerome had been mentioned in the mass media only once.

The list of fatalities from the fire accident at St. Bartholomew’s School.

The conversation between Christopher and Jerome at Timothy’s mansion was like that too. Jerome had said there were people chasing after him, and Christopher had said they were guys attached by the royal family.

The next moment, as if turning a page, we suddenly left the country road. We entered a quiet small town in one go. It was past midnight, but there were still cars coming and going on the road. Having suddenly jumped into a world of noise and light, I stared blankly out the window, unable to adapt for a while. The street, where headlights and streetlights flickered wildly, was utterly peaceful and quiet.

Mrs. Stella continued to focus on driving with the calm demeanor she had maintained from the beginning. All the conversations we had shared about Jerome while driving on the country road felt like they had been illusions. We crossed the road in silence. I rubbed my eyes. The afterimage of the streetlight remained.

When the car stopped at a traffic light, I finally opened my mouth and asked.

The wife said somewhat curtly.

When the signal turned green, Mrs. Stella continued driving as calmly as she always had. Before we knew it, we arrived at the emergency room. However, I was frozen by Mrs. Stella’s words and couldn’t even think of getting out of the car. It was only with the wife personally opening the passenger door and helping me that I could barely get out of the car. While he was handling the procedures, I sat in the waiting room and blankly stared at the white-painted hospital wall.

At first… from the beginning of everything, I thought only Jerome was the villain of the world. I thought Simon was my one and only friend. The fact that I had been thoroughly deceived and that the two boys were accomplices was something I barely realized at the brink of death. After that, I firmly believed that George was the predecessor. He was the predecessor, but he was also a more vicious accomplice than anyone else. At this moment, I could form one hypothesis starting from George. Perhaps. Perhaps all the top-floor boys were of the Dunwell family, of <The Club>….

A little while later, I sat on a simple bed and had a few stitches put in the soles of my feet. It was not as deep a wound as I thought. During the treatment, the wife came back after washing the blood-caked hands. After the wound was stitched up, just like at the beginning, with Mrs. Stella’s support, I left the hospital. Instead of leaving the hospital right away, we bought tea at the cafe in front of the hospital. It was chilly, but the man and I sat side by side on the bench and drank our tea in silence. And finally, we concluded the conversation that had continued throughout the long night.

Mrs. Stella said.

<It doesn’t seem like he’s still doing the stallion role at <The Club> now, but since I’ve been away from <The Club> for a long time, I don’t know well how things are going these days.>

<…I don’t know what the stallion role is, but when I went to <The Club>, Jerome wasn’t suffering any harm.>

<What big deal is the stallion role? I’ve seen all sorts of things at <The Club>, but Jerome, that child….>

I wanted to know what Mrs. Stella was talking about, but at the same time, I didn’t want to know it even if I died. Wrapped in fear and terror, I asked.

Mrs. Stella did not open her mouth easily and drank her tea. As he delayed the answer, the fear and terror inside me grew bigger and bigger. While constantly rubbing my sweaty palms on my pants, I waited for Mrs. Stella’s answer. A long while later, he muttered in a half-hoarse voice while avoiding even my gaze.

<…….>

<They put him on stage like a circus and made him do that act. It was one of the famous performances at <The Club>. I heard the partner changed every time, but I don’t know well. Because I only saw it once by chance.>

<…….>

The wife suddenly turned her head toward me.

Without affirming or denying, I just looked at the wife. He nodded with an indifferent face.

Mrs. Stella, who had taken a sip of tea, added after a long silence.

It felt like the cold sea wind that had hit me while looking down at the cliff was brushing my nape again. Instead of answering, I drank my tea. Mrs. Stella lightly stroked my back. As I tried to drink tea again, tears came again. Countless teardrops disappeared into the messily grown beard. It was just sorrowful. At that moment, Jerome, someone’s secrets, hatred, even revenge seemed to be washed away by tears. Just… the heavy and heavy chain, the endless chain of repeated revenge was sorrowful. As I sobbed, Mrs. Stella stroked my back until the crying stopped.

We returned to the small house by the beach. Mrs. Stella, thinking that I would no longer jump out the window, left me alone in the room and went out. I did not jump out the window. Instead, I lay on the soft bed and sought sleep. It was the first night of deep sleep since I had killed Jerome and then revived him.

When I opened my eyes to the morning sunlight, my body felt a bit heavy, but my mind was surprisingly clear. That day, I cleaned the entire house while limping. After working for two hours or so, I suddenly felt lethargic and sat blankly on the carpet, but somehow I finished the cleaning before Mrs. Stella got off work. He did not say much even after seeing the spotless house. Instead, he prepared a meal with more meat than the usual patient-like meals for me, who was getting up and moving around.

After finishing household chores like cleaning and laundry, I started exercising. Since I couldn’t use the stitched foot, I did push-ups with one foot raised and lifted dumbbells. After doing strength training after a long time, sweat poured down like rain. After the foot wound had improved a lot, I walked on the beach with Mrs. Stella. He lightly supported me and went back and forth on the beach while telling various stories. They were mostly stories related to the gallery he operated. I listened to what he said with one ear and let it flow out the other. I hardly responded. Still, Mrs. Stella seemed happy to have someone to chatter with and rambled on with all sorts of idle talk for a long time.

When the sole of the foot where the stitches were removed had healed cleanly, thanks to the weather that had entered midwinter, I couldn’t even dream of walking without a fur hat. My condition had improved to some extent. Up to that point, I had not asked Mrs. Stella a single word about Jerome. I did not bring up <The Club> or any stories related to him at all. Since Mrs. Stella had never brought it up first either, surprisingly, daily life flowed peacefully. Except for walks, I did not go out anywhere and just spent time silently doing work around the house.

Finally, when I could jog a few kilometers without strain, I shaved my beard. I also cut my hair short. Mrs. Stella, who came home, prepared dinner without saying anything special even after seeing the cleaned-up me. Even during the meal, the wife talked only about the painting sold that day. This time too, I did not give any particular response. While silently devouring the pasta, I suddenly interrupted.

Mrs. Stella, who had been talking animatedly about the painting, raised her eyebrows as if displeased. He lightly wiped his lips with a napkin and answered.

<He’s hiding in Rellium. It’s near London.>

<Well, something like that. Not just that.>

The wife took a sip of wine and added with a slightly gloomy face.

<He’s trying to save Chris.>

I was not surprised by that statement. At that time, it was obvious who Timothy, who got on the helicopter instead of chasing us, had gone to.

<Probably. The eldest young master has a large villa in Rellium.>

<Good. Please give me the exact address.>

The wife looked at me for a moment. I stared straight at him without avoiding his eyes, almost glaring. Soon, the wife got up and brought a memo pad and pen from the living room. And without any hesitation, she scribbled the address in one go and handed it to me. I folded the memo and tucked it into my pocket.

<There’s one more thing I want to know.>

The wife, who had been fiddling with the wine glass, lifted her head.

<Mrs. Stella. If you suffered at <The Club>… then Jerome’s revenge could also be your revenge, right?>

Mrs. Stella’s gray eyes were calm and serene, as if no event could ripple them. But I was not trying to shatter his composure, nor did I want to hurt him. Because what I would do from now on was not entirely unrelated to him, I wanted to say it first. Mrs. Stella had saved my life.

<…….>

The wife just blinked slowly.

We will live together, Jerome. I rode Mrs. Stella’s red truck to the train station in the city. Mrs. Stella bought a ticket to Rellium and gave me some money. It was cold. The leaves on the roadside trees had withered, and people wore fur hats or scarves. Mrs. Stella stayed with me until I boarded the train. He slowly waved his hand to see me off as I moved away beyond the train window. I did not wave back. I just kept looking at him until I could no longer see him. We will live together, Jerome. Even though the train ran fast, when it arrived in Rellium, the noticeably shortened sun was setting. Avoiding the wind that dug into my coat, I raised the collar high and exited the station. I caught a taxi and handed the driver the memo with the address written on it. The scenery of the unfamiliar city slowly brushed past. It ran through the old-fashioned old town and stopped in front of an old apartment. The worn apartment without a doorman was eerie. We will live together, Jerome. The carpet laid at the apartment entrance was dirty with rat urine stains spread and dust tangled. The manual elevator was broken. Next to the elevator, a young boy sat on a chair, dangling his feet while reading a comic book. I passed the elevator and slowly climbed the stairs. At the very end of the third-floor hallway, there was a house without a nameplate. I knocked lightly. We will live together, Jerome. There was a rustling sound from beyond the door, and soon the front door opened. Jerome, with his right arm bandaged, found me and his eyes widened. I gazed intently at his face, which reflexively broke into a wide smile. Yes, Jerome, we will live together. Until the very last moment, I will be with you. Sharing your most horrific despair and frustration, you and I, we will live together.

<Hello, Jerome.>

<Raymond.>

Though he looked surprised, Jerome was calm as if it was not entirely unexpected. Rather, with a brazen attitude, he even reached out his hand and unabashedly touched my cheek.

I swatted away the hand that was fiddling with my cheek and glanced at his arm. From above the elbow to the shoulder, a thick bandage was wrapped around twice. At his waist, one pair of handcuffs was hanging. I pushed aside the dawdling guy and entered the apartment. Jerome obediently stepped aside. The interior was as stark as it could be. In the living room, there was only one mattress and one paper box with its lid closed standing alone, and the two rooms were empty with nothing in them. Well, it was wise not to leave traces in a hideout.

It was a completely empty place where there was nothing to look around or not, but I searched even the bathroom thoroughly. Only after confirming that there was no one in the house did I turn to look at Jerome. He was still standing in the same spot at the entrance doorway, just watching me. When our eyes met, Jerome asked with a smiling face.

<No.>

I furrowed my brows.

<What’s wrong with your arm?>

I glared at the shy Jerome in exasperation. It was so loathsome that it bordered on creepy, making goosebumps rise on my arms. It was better to talk to the wall than to converse with Jerome. Ignoring him, I kicked open the box that was placed alone next to the mattress with my toe. Inside the box, there were three or four guns, two Hugh phones, a few neatly folded clothes, and a first-aid kit, that was all. I squatted down in front of the box and picked up a pistol. The magazine was loaded, and… I turned to look at Jerome again.

Jerome, who had been leaning against the entrance the whole time, finally approached with a leisurely gait. He took the gun from my hand and said softly.

<It’s classic.>

Jerome, who had taken the gun, naturally aimed the barrel at my head. I looked up at Jerome from my squatting position. The chillingly cold barrel touched my forehead.

<You….>

<…….>

I wondered what nonsense he was spouting, but it was so ridiculous that I couldn’t even laugh. Even seeing my distorted expression, Jerome continued brazenly.

Jerome did not even pretend to have heard.

<You’re mistaking which kingdom the princess lives in, but at least the prince is coming to save her?>

While flicking away the barrel on my forehead with my finger, I said coldly.

Jerome said calmly.

<Shoot.>

As always, Jerome did not hesitate. In the blink of an eye, he kicked my shoulder with his foot to knock me down to the floor, and then fired twice at the back of my foot. As I tumbled over, the box toppled and the items spilled out haphazardly.

<Don’t they say classics are easy to see through?>

I aimed the gun at Jerome, whose face had rarely hardened.

When I had checked the magazine just a moment ago, I had already removed the bullets. Thanks to quickly snatching the loaded gun by knocking over the box as I fell, the situation between Jerome and me had completely reversed. Jerome pulled the trigger several times with a click, then gave up and dropped the gun to the floor. While aiming the gun straight at him, I slowly raised my body.

On the outside, he looked calm, but it seemed Jerome had been quite flustered by my sudden visit from the beginning. Someone who has handled guns a lot knows the weight of a gun. Especially for a small gun like the PPK, he would have immediately noticed if the magazine was missing that the weight had changed. Jerome, who surprisingly gave up resistance so easily, looked at me with the same awkward smile as usual. I had not the slightest intention of indulging his smugness. Aiming the barrel at his chest, I commanded stiffly.

Jerome knelt down on the floor without a word. I snatched the handcuffs hanging from his waist. Jerome put his arms behind his back and stayed obedient. Anyway, he was quick on the uptake. I had been thinking of putting bullet holes in both his feet if he resisted even a little, just as he had said with his own mouth. After cuffing him, I righted the fallen box and sat on top of it.

<First, let’s settle a few things I want to ask.>

Loathsomely, Jerome nodded with a gentle face.

<What’s wrong with your arm?>

Jerome immediately burst into a grin.

Before he could finish speaking, I struck his head with the gun. His forehead split open in one blow and blood flowed. Without caring, I asked again.

Jerome said with a hurt expression.

held at Timothy’s Rellium mansion.>

At that question, Jerome laughed out loud.

He blinked his eyes several times because of the blood droplets flowing into them.

Jerome narrowed his eyes and fell silent. A drop of blood flowed down his pale cheek. He did not answer. While persistently meeting his gaze, I asked.

Instead of answering, Jerome just stared at me blankly.

<…….>

<No. You bastards wouldn’t do that.>

I stared at Jerome’s face. I looked at the eerily shining reptilian green eyes on his pale face where blood was flowing. At this moment, he was yearning. He desired intensely. I had to find out what it was.

Silence flowed. The silence was very short. It was only a few seconds. A light knocking sound from the front door was followed by a woman’s voice.

<It’s me. I’m coming in.>

It was really a voice I had not heard in a long time, but as soon as I heard it, I remembered whose voice it was. Jerome also noticed that I had remembered. Jerome sprang up like a spring, but I mercilessly struck down on his wounded shoulder with the gun barrel and knocked him down. The bandage was instantly dyed red with blood. The sound of the front door lock opening was heard. While crushing Jerome’s arm on the floor with my heel, I aimed the gun toward the door. Anna, who was opening the front door and entering, froze on the spot.

Anna looked much older than when I first met her at Bluebell. She, who had been a young woman working at the school, had now entered middle age, her body had become petite, and wrinkles had formed on her face. She immediately recognized me and her face turned pale as a sheet, unable to even scream. I gestured with the gun, flicking it back and forth. At my feet, Jerome was swallowing groans and barely managing his pain.

Whether her body was stiff or she had some other intention, Anna stood there without moving an inch. Since Jerome showed signs of trying to say something, I trampled his wound once more. I ground and crushed the wounded shoulder and arm several times with my heel, and the bandage, which had been white, was dyed bright red. Jerome hunched his shoulders, gritted his teeth, and held back his groans. While staring piercingly at Anna, I gestured once more with the hand holding the gun. Anna, terrified, instead took a step back.

I said coldly to her.

Like having cold water poured over her, with that one sentence, I could clearly see Anna snapping back to her senses. She hurriedly entered the apartment and locked the front door. While aiming the barrel at her, I nodded my head. Anna, trembling uncontrollably, slowly approached me step by step. When the distance had narrowed to a certain extent, I quickly moved toward her from my side. Standing behind Anna, I wrapped my arm around her slender neck and pressed the barrel against her temple.

Jerome, who had barely managed his pain, panted as he raised his body. With his hands cuffed, he could not properly balance and eventually could not stand and sat down weakly. Seeing the barrel threatening Anna, he slightly furrowed his brows. Jerome tried to say something but turned his head and spat blood on the floor. It seemed his mouth was torn inside, as the amount of blood he spat was considerable.

Jerome was still handcuffed, Anna was in my grasp, and among us, the only one with a gun was me. For the first time, I was leading the situation. Wasn’t this the complete opposite of the scene from eight years ago? In that van being dragged from Denver to Liverpool, the one handcuffed was me, the one threatening with an electric shock device was Anna, and the one leading the situation was Jerome.

I whispered the question into Anna’s ear. In my arms, Anna trembled as if she had been thrown into a midwinter lake, her teeth chattering loudly.

Instead of answering, Anna just trembled madly. Since the memory of her personally shocking me with the electric shock device was vivid, I did not find this trembling all that believable.

<Well, now that people are gathered, let’s finally unravel these damn riddles once and for all and get it off our chests.>

Jerome interjected.

<She’s not just a simple secretary, is she? A normal secretary carries a schedule instead of an electric shock device.>

I replied coldly and kicked the back of Anna’s heel to make her collapse. She let out a short scream and fell to the floor. I took a bandage from the first-aid kit and tightly bound her wrists. Sitting on the box, I looked at the man and woman with their hands tied once each. I had thought Jerome would be moving alone, but this was an unexpected situation.

<Anyway, let’s get back to the conversation we were having originally, Jerome.>

I pointed the barrel of the gun toward the floor and asked leisurely.

Whether he was racking his brains or something, Jerome just blinked his eyes without any particular expression. I had not expected to get an answer right here from the beginning anyway. I tapped the floor with my toe and continued speaking.

<…….>

Jerome asked as if he were enjoying it. As if he had completely forgotten about his own state, with his hands cuffed and blood trickling from his head and arm, he looked up at me with sparkling eyes. I observed him as if probing and slowly continued speaking.

<Oh, that’s a good deduction. Keep going.>

As if it were the correct answer, Jerome grinned widely, stretching his mouth.

It was not an excessive deduction. No matter what Jerome and Christopher had plotted, the moment Timothy caught on to their conspiracy, he would have had to come up with a backup plan. I was an obstacle to their plan, but on the other hand, I was also a joker that could be used in any way. Perhaps Jerome had already been planning to sell me off from the time he went through the chase involving the helicopter and cars. But… even so… a doubt kept nagging at the corner of my mind.

If he had planned to hand me over from the beginning, then why did he entrust me to Mrs. Stella? What was the reason for deliberately exposing his entire past? He wouldn’t know what variables that could cause, so why did he do it? What if I hadn’t come looking for Jerome? Then what exactly had he planned to do? There were too many holes in my deduction. Above all, the most suspicious part was Jerome’s face, nodding along and smiling as if everything I said was spot on.

Even in this situation.

Even with his body restrained and me holding the gun, that composure of his did not crumble at all. No matter what I did, Jerome never panicked. When the call from Timothy came, hadn’t he immobilized me with just one word? When I strangled his neck at Mrs. Stella’s house, hadn’t he only pretended to resist and let me kill him without doing anything? No matter what I did, it seemed like I could not even create the smallest ripple in Jerome’s life.

Jerome, whose half face was stained red with blood flowing from his forehead, smirked. Without a word, I crossed my arms and looked at him.

<Excellent. Truly excellent… So, Raymond. Will you obediently go and get sold?>

Perhaps the ominous premonition I had harbored for a long time ago had hit the mark. In fact, in Jerome’s life, Bluebell was just one season, and the human named Raymond was nothing more than a figure from the past with whom he had once shared his body. What was everything in my life to me was, at best, just a memory to Jerome. In reality, he had not chased me for the past eight years. During that time, Jerome had calmly carried out his own revenge and lived his life fully.

Only now did I finally realize it. This was the truth. To Jerome, I was just one piece among countless puzzle pieces.

Jerome said as he spat out the blood pooled in his mouth. He smiled, revealing his teeth stained red with spread blood.

<Well. Jerome, why does it look to me like you’re desperately trying to provoke me?>

Jerome seemed momentarily at a loss for words.

<That’s because you have the gun in your hand.>

Jerome quipped as if pretending to be calm.

Instead of answering, I gazed intently at him. To Jerome, I would inevitably have no choice but to become a chess piece. If his goal lay elsewhere, or more precisely, if Jerome’s goal had nothing to do with me, then I would be consumed as his means indefinitely.

A memory from the past, a figure in memories, sometimes even an amusing plaything, but never the target. I quietly looked at Jerome’s face crusted with dried blood. Jerome is my goal. The top-floor boys were my goal. In my past life, all people except them were merely means. That had been the case with the countless people who had passed by me during those eight years. It was the same with Teddy, Faye, and Allen. I know all too well what it means not to become a goal. And I want to become Jerome’s goal. I want Jerome to pull me out of memories and make me the sole target of his life.

Without taking my eyes off Jerome, I aimed the pistol at Anna. Excluding the top-floor boys, Anna was the only one who had been with Jerome from the Bluebell days until now. Hadn’t she helped Jerome drag me to that horrific log cabin eight years ago? Jerome had been pleased even when I killed his horse and threw its severed head at him. Would it be the same this time? I pulled the trigger. Anna collapsed to the floor without even being able to scream.

<…Ah, no. No….>

<…….>

<No, Anna! Anna! Anna!>

Jerome screamed toward the fallen Anna like a pig. With bloodshot eyes, I stared piercingly at Jerome’s face.

I want Jerome to take revenge on me.

Jerome crawled like a worm and collapsed on top of Anna’s corpse. I coldly watched the man wailing like a pig. With his hands tied behind his back, Jerome couldn’t even embrace her. Rubbing his cheek against Anna’s blood-smeared cheek, Jerome endlessly repeated words of denial.

At that moment, for the first time, I occupied the gaze of the top-floor boy. I quietly watched Jerome writhing in pain. He twisted his arm so much that blood now dripped steadily from the bandage soaked through with blood. Jerome panted like a drowning man and intermittently spat out between sobs.

<No, no… No, no…, please, Anna, please, no, sister, sister….>

Beyond the sobbing Jerome, I quietly looked at Anna collapsed with her occiput shattered. The cold face that had handed me over to the clutches of the top-floor boys and observed their evil deeds was now stained red with blood. We probably wouldn’t meet again. I tore my eyes from the corpse and stood up. It was not the time to idle around.

Since I had fired a gun without a silencer, there was a high possibility someone had reported it to the police. I quickly started organizing the items scattered on the floor. Excluding the gun and the Hugh phones, there was nothing particular to gather. I removed the magazines from the three or four guns, set the safeties, and stuffed them into my waistband, and put the magazines separately in my coat pocket. I pocketed the two Hugh phones. I checked the entire house once more, grabbed Jerome’s coat hanging at the entrance, and returned to the living room.

The crying gradually subsided, and soon the living room fell into a deathly silence. Jerome still did not move an inch like a statue, with his cheek pressed against the corpse. I deliberately grabbed his wounded arm and pulled him up to his feet. Jerome flinched from the pain but stood up as I dragged him. His body was as heavy as a waterlogged cotton. The moment I let go briefly to put the coat on him, he collapsed back down. Then, as if in disbelief, he stared endlessly at Anna’s dead face with wide eyes.

<…….>

I squatted down beside him and draped the coat over his shoulders. While buttoning the coat to carefully cover the bloodstains on his upper body, Jerome’s eyes remained fixed on Anna beyond my shoulder.

I pulled Jerome up, supported him, and left the house. The apartment hallway felt dimly oppressive, locked in an unnatural silence. Everyone must be hiding, holding their breath because of the gunshot. There was no time to dawdle. I simply slung the barely walking Jerome over my shoulder. He was heavy, but bearable enough. More than that, I was far more worried about the police bursting in. With Jerome slung over my back, I hurriedly descended the stairs and exited the apartment.

As soon as I reached the main street, I caught a taxi. I practically shoved the dazed Jerome into it. Since he kept his head down the whole time, the taxi driver did not see his bloodied face. I gave the address of a motel near the station and buried myself in the seat. Just then, a police car appeared at the end of the street. The taxi passed by the police car. Feeling a bit anxious, I looked out the window. Since it was an old building, there probably wouldn’t be CCTV, and it was already getting dark in the evening, so I could buy some time. I had to leave Rellium as quickly as possible.

While looking out the window, suddenly my earlobe prickled chillingly, so I turned my head. At some point, Jerome had been staring piercingly at me. The dazed expression on his face was completely gone. He pulled the corners of his mouth tight and smiled silently while continuing to look at me. Half of his face was stained with blood, making him look eerie at first glance, but instead of avoiding his gaze, I coldly glared back at him. Until we arrived at the motel, we silently gazed at each other intently.

Even when we got out of the taxi, Jerome still couldn’t walk properly. As soon as I supported him into the motel room, one of the Hugh phones in my pocket started ringing. I sat Jerome on the edge of the bed and checked the Hugh phone screen. It was not a registered number. Jerome just looked at me blankly. After hesitating for a moment, I touched the call button and turned on the speaker. A voice immediately flowed out.

<Agent. Did something happen at E01K by any chance?>

We silently looked down at the Hugh phone. I took one step toward Jerome and held the Hugh phone out in front of him. Jerome blinked once, then quietly answered.

<Yes. There is one body to dispose of.>

At that moment, I wavered for the first time. An inexplicable feeling made my nape bristle. <There is one body to dispose of>. Just moments ago, the guy who had been squealing like a piglet over Anna’s death now said nothing more than <There is one body to dispose of>….

A few more exchanges followed in the call, and then it ended. It seemed the police were not a worry. Agent. I glanced at Jerome, who was once again looking at me blankly at some point. When our eyes met, he even gave a gentle smile, as if waiting for disposal or mocking me as if to say what now. While looking at the man smiling brightly, I pulled out the pistol tucked into my waistband. Without hesitation, I struck the back of his head with the gun barrel to knock him out.

I left Jerome confined and exited the motel alone. I disassembled all but one gun piece by piece and discarded them separately in public trash cans. I kept the Hugh phone since it seemed useful. On the way back after stopping at a pharmacy to buy emergency supplies, I went to the station to check the train schedule. There was a train departing around midnight. I bought two tickets, tucked them into my pocket, and headed straight back to the motel. About thirty minutes had passed, but Jerome in the room was still unconscious.

When I removed his coat, the bandage soaked through with blood became visible. I looked at it for a moment, then cut the bandage with scissors, snip snip. After cleanly wiping the blood-covered arm, the wound became visible.

<…It’s a slash wound.>

It was a knife slash from the shoulder to just above the elbow. It did not look neatly after-treated, as if he had stitched it himself. Even that was now in a state where blood was flowing profusely because I had crushed and trampled it. It seemed better to stitch it up again. Of course, I had no intention of taking him to a hospital. First, I unlocked the handcuffs that were still restraining Jerome’s arm. I cuffed his uninjured hand to the bedpost to secure it, and while at it, wiped the bloodstains from his face as well.

Author's Thoughts

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

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