Underpainting Chapter 10.2 - Vanishing Point (2)

“Do you remember his car’s license plate number? Keep me updated on where he’s going. I’m on my way.” Taehan burst out of the safe house. He felt choked by anxiety and impatience, but he started running without stopping.

‘That bastard Choi Beomsik. What is he planning?’ 

He had to hurry. He might be able to see Dawon. No, more importantly, Dawon might be in danger.

On the promised night, it was time to leave. Dawon neatly packed his few belongings. He placed the cash he took from the hotel in the drawer next to the bed. The woman had refused the money, but Dawon desperately wanted to express his gratitude and apology.

After packing, Dawon took one last look around the room. He couldn’t come back here, whether his revenge succeeded or failed. If he failed, he wouldn’t survive, and if he succeeded, he would be a sinner, making his return a burden.

Even with his heart half-frozen by grief and rage, a strange sentiment washed over him. It was odd that he had developed fondness and memories for a place he’d only stayed for a few days.

‘…Still, I have to go.’

He had no choice but to take the plunge, come what may. Otherwise, he felt like he could neither live nor die. He had taken a tool with him when he briefly stepped outside earlier. Dawon fingered the paint knife in his pocket. It belonged to the mural painters.

The kitchen knives in the restaurant would have been sharper and sturdier, but he couldn’t use the woman’s precious tools for such a thing. Besides, the paint knife felt perfectly familiar in his hand.

Dawon planned to slip out of the restaurant quietly. The woman usually went to bed around nine o’clock, so it would be better to leave then. He was coming down to the first floor, trying to be as quiet as possible despite dragging his right leg, when he heard the woman call him, “Baobao.” His heart sank, but he forced a calm expression and looked back at him.

[Where are you going?]

The woman looked at him with concern and held out him phone. Dawon, momentarily speechless at the question on the screen, typed a vague reply.

[To meet someone]

[Who? Family? Friend?]

The question he received in return was even more awkward. Although he had called him “Uncle” for most of his life, he wasn’t his family, and certainly not a friend. Not wanting to lie to the woman, Dawon simply replied:

[Someone I have to meet]

Perhaps sensing that Dawon wouldn’t return, the woman’s eyes welled up. Like the day Dawon was insulted for his limp, the woman hugged him tightly. Then, in a trembling voice, he whispered something affectionate in his ear.

Amongst the words Dawon couldn’t quite understand, he caught phrases the woman had often said during his stay: Be careful, eat well.

Dawon wanted to hug him back, but fearing it would weaken his resolve, he clenched his fists and stepped back.

“Thank you.”

Dawon said his final goodbye before leaving the restaurant. His voice, much more natural than before, was filled with sincerity. His steps were heavy, but after turning his back, he walked forward without pausing.

His destination wasn’t far. Choosing a location for his revenge required careful consideration. It had to be a place Dawon could reach alone, somewhere secluded enough that a bloody incident wouldn’t be immediately interrupted.

It would be even better if it was a place where Big Uncle couldn’t easily escape. If cornered, he would likely retaliate, but Dawon preferred risking his own safety to losing this hard-won opportunity for revenge.

Despite his naiveté, Dawon knew of one place that met all the criteria. The rooftop where his older brother had bragged about his involvement in a brawl with people from the neighboring district sounded like the perfect spot.

‘He said there was an illegal money exchange on the first floor.’

His talkative brother had recounted the fight in detail, describing the building, how to unlock the rooftop door, and the escape route he took back to the restaurant.

Following the path his brother described, he arrived at the building just as he had described it. Dawon walked up the stairs as if he belonged there, retrieved the key from under the cactus pot on the 4th-floor landing, and unlocked the door to the rooftop.

‘Big Uncle isn’t here yet. Well, it’s not time yet.’

He had left with plenty of time to spare, thinking he might get lost, but even with his limp, he arrived much earlier than expected. Dawon stood near the rooftop railing, gazing at the dark night sky for a moment.

Since learning of Taehan’s death, Dawon had tried to avoid being idle. He tried to find out what he could, think about everything, and make plans for anything he could do.

He knew that if he faced empty time like this, uncontrollable emotions would engulf him. He knew he would regret the irreversible and long for the person he could no longer meet.

‘I can’t cry. It’ll cloud my mind.’

Feeling that looking at the sky would only make him think of Taehan, Dawon turned towards the rooftop entrance. Tension finally set in, making his body tremble slightly. Although the season was transitioning from spring to early summer, the night air felt unusually chilly, perhaps because his heart was cold.

‘Is it almost time? I told him the neighborhood and the building’s location, so he should be able to find it.’

He didn’t worry about him not showing up. He was a frighteningly greedy man. If he thought Dawon was still useful, he would come no matter what.

Dawon was his sole source of income, and now that SeoChang Construction, which had planned to take over his painting business, was in ruins, he must be even more desperate for him.

‘Footsteps.’

As expected, he began to hear familiar footsteps in the distance. The sound that always intimidated him. Whenever he heard Big Uncle approaching, Dawon would hunch his shoulders and desperately try to move his brush faster.

Trying to calm his racing heart, Dawon reached into his pocket and gripped the paint knife. After taking three deep breaths, the rooftop door opened.

“Uncle.”

Dawon called him in a low voice. Though his appearance was a little shabbier, Big Uncle’s form, dimly visible in the darkness, was the same as always. He looked around, seemingly bewildered by the unfamiliar and shabby rooftop, before finally spotting Dawon standing near the railing.

Big Uncle’s furious words fueled Dawon’s rage. Glaring fiercely, he answered clearly, looking at the man who seemed ready to throw him off the roof.

“Me. I’m doing this. I’ve always wanted to kill you.”

Big Uncle’s blood-covered face contorted in fury, and he pressed his palm against his thin, white neck. The image of his mother, strangled by her hand, flashed through his mind. He had resented, missed, and vowed to avenge his mother, but was Dawon destined for the same end?

“Damn it, you’re just like that bitch! Lowlife scum, you don’t know your place…! I treated you well, and you think you can take advantage of me, you little cripple?”

Big Uncle seemed to have also recalled the moment he killed his mother. Instead of feeling guilt, he seemed even more enraged, tightening his grip on Dawon’s neck.

His neck was squeezed so tightly it felt like his bones would break, his airway completely blocked. The lack of oxygen caused a burning, stinging sensation from his nose to his throat, and then his head felt like it was on fire.

“Ugh… ugh…”

Dawon’s body was too weak to endure the pain for long. His head swam, and he could barely feel the searing pain. He gritted his teeth, not wanting to show any weakness in front of him, but his vision blurred.

His life had been insignificant, and even the fleeting images before his eyes were meager and desolate. Even in the few good memories, amidst the regret and pain, Taehan’s face was etched.

Was there an afterlife? If he closed his eyes now, would he be able to see him again? Just as Dawon’s long eyelashes slowly fluttered closed, caught between resignation and hope, a distant sound pierced his fading consciousness.

The sound of a door opening, hurried footsteps. The next moment, a large hand grabbed Big Uncle by the scruff of his neck and pulled him away from Dawon in one swift motion.

“Ugh…! Damn it, what the…? Who…?”

Big Uncle, flung back, cursed as he looked up at the man standing before him, his face turning to one of shock.

“You, you’re… no way.”

The man gently guided Dawon’s shoulders, helping him sit down on the rooftop floor, before approaching Big Uncle. The familiar sound of his shoes echoed. Dawon, too, couldn’t believe his eyes and ears.

Even though his face was half-covered by a mask, he couldn’t mistake his eyes and forehead, his shoulders, hair, and touch. The man who appeared on the rooftop was undoubtedly Taehan.

“You… you’re dead.”

Big Uncle mumbled in a daze, still sitting on the ground. Taehan didn’t answer. He grabbed Big Uncle’s face and roughly yanked out the paint knife embedded in his eye. Red blood splattered onto Taehan’s shoulder.

“Aargh! My eye! Aaargh…!”

Big Uncle screamed, clutching his face. Amidst his agonizing cries, Taehan stomped on his right calf with his shoe. He raised the bloodstained paint knife high and plunged it precisely into Big Uncle’s Achilles tendon.

“Kraaargh…!”

Big Uncle, now unable to see properly or walk again, writhed and howled on the ground like an insect.

Taehan, seemingly unconcerned by his suffering, turned around immediately, as if his only objective had been to prevent escape.

It was only after he turned to face him that Dawon noticed his hands were trembling. He wiped his shaking hands on his clothes and approached him.

His legs seemed to be trembling too, as he stumbled a few steps before finally kneeling before him. He pulled his mask down, revealing bloodshot eyes and lips red and swollen from being bitten.

“Kid..”

His voice was as gentle and affectionate as in his dreams. He wondered if this was a dream, but something felt off. He had never imagined him looking so vulnerable, his eyes filled with such desperate longing for him.

“Kid, Dawon…”

Though he was also covered in blood, Taehan wiped his hands repeatedly on his clothes as if he didn’t want to stain Dawon, before pulling him into a hug.

Thump, thump. His heart beat strongly against his. His warmth enveloped him. His unforgettable scent was here too. It was all real, not a dream.

“Mister.”

The moment he said the word, a surge of tangled emotions rose from deep within his chest, making his throat ache. Dawon continued with difficulty,

“You were alive…?”

“Yes, kid. You too…”

Taehan, seemingly having believed Dawon was also dead, caressed his shoulders and back as if in a trance.

“Good boy, good boy. Thank you for being here.”

“…….”

“If you had disappeared, if you weren’t here, I…”

Taehan’s low voice wavered. It sounded like he was crying, which seemed impossible. At that moment, tears welled up in Dawon’s eyes and overflowed. The emotions that had choked him finally erupted, and he began to sob uncontrollably.

“Sob, Mister. Sob, sob…”

He hadn’t known he had so many tears within him. They streamed down his small face, soaking Taehan’s shoulder.

Unaware of whether he was crying from sadness, joy, or some other emotion, Dawon continued to sob until he lost consciousness. Like a newborn child, as if being reborn in this moment.

‘Where am I?’

When he opened his eyes again, Dawon saw an unfamiliar ceiling. The angle of the sunlight, the feel and softness of the bedding beneath his back, were all different.

The reason he wasn’t scared or confused despite waking up in an unknown room was the familiar, comforting scent that enveloped him even before he opened his eyes. Taehan’s pheromones. Dawon took a deep breath, inhaling his scent.

Enveloped in an indescribable sense of peace, he slowly turned his head. Taehan was sitting beside the bed, his posture stiff, his head tilted slightly as he slept with his eyes closed.

‘Mister… are you asleep?’

He seemed to have dozed off while sitting. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he must have stayed by his side the entire time he was asleep.

Dawon gazed at him. His cheeks were a little thinner, his hair longer, but he was still the same Taehan he remembered. The person he had pictured until the moment he thought was his last. The person he thought he would never see again.

‘So this is what it feels like to see someone you’ve missed.’

A sense of fulfillment so profound it brought tears to his eyes filled his chest. He felt like he could gaze at his sleeping face forever, but perhaps his gaze was too intense, because his eyelashes began to flutter.

He woke up and looked directly at him. The moment their eyes met, they both held their breath. The sensation of the world tilting slightly when he first saw him, the pain of the days he thought he had lost him, flashed before his eyes.

“Kid. You’re awake?”

Taehan asked cautiously, his eyes tinged with red. It seemed that the difficult times and turbulent emotions of the past had resurfaced within him as well. Just from his gaze, Dawon could tell how desperately he had searched for him. He could feel the intensity of his affection.

He expected him to shower him with kisses, but Taehan turned his head and called someone outside the room. The person who entered was the doctor Taehan called “Dr. Park.” Taehan seemed to think that checking on Dawon’s health was the most urgent matter.

“Mr. Kwon Dawon. Are you feeling alright? That’s good. I’ll just check a few things.”

Dr. Park seemed relieved to see Dawon looking comfortable, as if he too had been worried about him.

He examined Dawon and took his blood, much like the last time, but he asked several questions he hadn’t before. Whether he had experienced any physical abnormalities or bleeding, if he had been sleeping more or feeling nauseous.

“I have been sleeping more. The nausea comes and goes, but otherwise I’m fine.”

Taehan seemed surprised that Dawon was speaking so formally. Dr. Park nodded as he removed his stethoscope.

“Alright. I’ll need to run more tests to be sure, but for now, you seem to be okay. You’ve been through a lot, both physically and emotionally, so I was worried about the worst-case scenario… You’ve done incredibly well to overcome it all.”

At Dr. Park’s words, Taehan sighed softly and placed a hand over his heart. The doctor continued, his expression still tinged with concern, whispering to Taehan,

“About that matter…”

“I’ll tell him myself.”

Taehan replied with a determined look, although Dawon didn’t know what matter they were referring to. Dr. Park turned back to Dawon and asked gently,

“Mr. Kwon Dawon, please don’t worry and try to relax. Make sure you eat regularly. Is there anything else you’d like to ask?”

“I do have a question…”

“At some point… I started to feel differently about you, but I just told myself I couldn’t control my feelings. I knew how to get angry, but not how to be kind. I didn’t know what I was destroying, what I was losing…”

Although he wasn’t crying, Taehan’s eyes were filled with silent anguish. His distorted face resembled someone weeping in inconsolable sorrow. In a whisper, almost a plea, he poured out his heart.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I don’t even have the right to ask for your forgiveness… I’m sorry, kid.”

His apology was so heartfelt that it pierced Dawon’s heart. While resentment still lingered, he understood what he was saying.

He, too, felt a burning anger whenever he saw him. An unnamed emotion threatened to crush his fragile heart, and there were many times he just wanted to run away.

As Dawon gazed at him silently, Taehan continued in a low voice, like a man confessing his sins. He didn’t cry, perhaps believing he had no right to.

“I know it’s impossible. I don’t expect you to forgive what I did. I just… I just want you to know that all of this happened because I was a fool. It wasn’t your fault, not even a little. It was all my fault.”

Taehan took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. Seeing that Dawon’s tears had subsided, he broached the subject of his next question.

“And the accident at the house… did you see it on the news?”

“Yes. The gas explosion…”

Dawon’s expression darkened as he recalled the news report he had seen in the restaurant. The white sheet covering the body labeled “Taehan” brought back the shock and guilt he had felt. It weighed heavily on his heart.

“…You know, I don’t think it was entirely your fault.”

Dawon shrugged, shrinking back slightly. Taehan’s fingertips, which had been lightly touching his cheek, hovered awkwardly in the air before falling to the bed.

“What do you mean?”

“When… when I left the house that day. While you were gone, I smelled gas. I went downstairs and my great-uncle was there.”

Fresh tears welled up in Dawon’s eyes.

“I thought he might have done something. But then, I was so angry at you that I didn’t mention it. I thought the explosion happened because of that, so I…”

As Dawon’s trembling intensified, thick veins bulged on the back of Taehan’s hand as he gripped the bedsheet. As if summoning his courage, but also suppressing the urge to pull his into his arms, he reached out and covered his trembling hand with his own.

“No, kid. It wasn’t your fault. It was my fault. Even making you worry that it might have been your fault… that was my fault too.”

“But the accident really…”

“I knew the accident was going to happen. Remember the lens I put in your painting? I sent that painting to Seo Gihyuk, the CEO of SeoChang Construction. I’d already learned what they were planning and was prepared. The body they identified as me on the news… it was one of the other gang members who came to kill me.”

“What? Then…”

Despite his attempts to comfort him, Dawon’s chest heaved even more. Relief mingled with a surge of indignation.

“I… I didn’t know anything about it. You didn’t tell me anything…!”

“I know, kid. I was wrong. You didn’t know anything, so I can only imagine how worried you must have been…”

Taehan spoke with sympathy, but Dawon, quick-witted as always, realized something. Given the extensive news coverage, Taehan must have deceived everyone involved, including the police and the media, about the accident.

Regardless of how Taehan had treated him, it was probably better that he hadn’t told him beforehand. If he hadn’t left him, he wouldn’t have needed to tell him at all.

Another thought struck him. Taehan likely couldn’t live a normal life in this country anymore. While Dawon was also officially deceased, his disappearance had gone unnoticed. Taehan’s supposed death, on the other hand, had been all over the news.

“Then… do you have to leave now? Can’t you stay here?”

“No. I’ll have to live abroad. I’ve already made arrangements.”

His answer prompted the unspoken question: ‘What about me?’

Dawon had naturally assumed that his future life would be with Taehan.

Startled by this realization and unsure of what Taehan was thinking, Dawon’s eyes flickered nervously. Taehan seemed to share his anxiety. His hand, covering his’s, began to tremble with a mixture of anticipation and desperation.

“Kid.”

Taehan’s Adam’s apple bobbed visibly. He took both of his hands in his, slowly lifting them, and gently kissed his pale fingertips. He looked even more nervous than when he’d apologized.

“You don’t know the world… You don’t know how amazing you are. You’re smart, so you might think you know everything… but you don’t, kid. You don’t yet know how far you can go, how wonderful a person deserves to be with you.”

“…”

“So, what I’m about to say might just be me selfishly trying to tie you down. But, kid…”

Still holding his hands, Taehan got down from his chair and knelt before him. Surprised, Dawon straightened from where he’d been leaning against the bed.

“Wh-what are you doing…?”

“I’m desperate. I want to beg you, plead with you, even if it’s cowardly.”

Taehan held his hands tightly, his body hunched low. He was genuinely pleading, just as he’d said. In his dark eyes, there was a vast, deep universe.

The entire universe was focused solely on Dawon. His own universe, mirroring his, seemed drawn to him by gravity. Within this shared cosmos, Taehan poured out his heart.

“It might sound foolish of me to say this now, but… I realized my feelings too late. I didn’t realize I loved you until after you were gone.”

In that instant, Dawon felt like he’d finally found the answer to a long-unsolved puzzle.

[…]

“Dawon, you’re pregnant.”

Since Taehan often called him “kid,” Dawon didn’t immediately understand, continuing to tilt his head in confusion.

He found himself fascinated by the deepening blush on his cheeks. Then, he repeated himself, this time more clearly.

“You’re having a baby. You’re pregnant.”

While he could have dismissed the first part again, the word “pregnant” struck him with full force. Dawon nodded slightly, indicating he finally understood.

“Oh.”

A few seconds later, the true meaning of his words hit him. His eyes widened, and he repeated in a loud voice,

“What? Pregnant…?”