Taesung
Is it strange that I admire him for something that others would condemn him for? For taking justice into his own hands and having someone who made my life hell killed?
I lie sprawled on the bed, watching the dots of light from the TV in the background being reflected onto the ceiling, and I can't stop thinking about what Hyunjin did.
I can't concentrate, the same thought keeps running through my head. Why Hyunjin let Harris get killed?
I still thinking, If this had happened at the beginning of my stay here, I would have reacted differently. I wouldn't have taken the situation as calmly as I am now. I don't know if Harris deserved to die, I don't think it's our place to decide someone else's fate. But I hated him from the beginning — he was never a father to me — and now he's dead.
I tell myself that he could have treated me even worse, he could have sexually abused me or broken my bones. But he never laid a hand on me in that way. Even though he did punch me, beat me with a belt and abuse me psychologically, things could always have been worse.
And yet, despite everything, I now feel a strange sense of peace, and I owe that to Hyunjin. I remember those moments, when I cowered on the ground in front of Harris, taking blow after blow to my back until I was covered in blood. Strangely, I feel a sense of relief and gratitude, and the corners of my mouth relax into a half-smile.
Thinking about all this has given me a headache, but I can't stop the thoughts from swirling around in my head. I don't know if I want answers that would either calm me down or drive me crazy.
At that moment, I ask myself aloud, even though I know Hyunjin isn't in the same room. „Why did you do it? For me or for yourself?"
I scratch my right wrist with my fingernails. As Taeju had promised, on the same evening that we had talked about the tattoo, he took me to see their tattoo artist, a guy we had been on first-name terms with ever since our first visit. There, I got a tattoo of the group's symbol, which stands by Hyunjin's side. It's a symbol that I wear as part of his personal security detail. Although I was reluctant at first, I have to admit that I'm damn proud of the tattoo.
When Taeju asked if I wanted to take the opportunity to get something else done, I decided to act impulsively. Without thinking too much about it, I agreed to get my eyebrow pierced. It's vertical and simple, but exactly what I needed at that moment — a small act of defiance that I allowed myself.
Since I had finally left Hyunjin's house after such a long time, I convinced Taeju to join me for a meal in town. I needed it. I needed to see other faces, hear the hustle and bustle of the streets and remind myself that the world keeps turning, even outside the four cold walls I live in. Life in Hyunjin's house is strictly regimented with no room to breathe, and sometimes I just need to breathe.
I don't enjoy lying in bed anymore, I just overthink things, and it weighs on my mind. On the contrary, I need to let off steam and stop overthinking. I decide it would be best to go downstairs and work out. A few punches on the punching bag will surely clear my head.
... ༺༻ ...
I stop on the stairs. I'm not the only one who's had the idea of exercising at this hour. Hyunjin is standing in the middle of the room, his footsteps muffled by the tatami mats. He holds a hwando, the blade of which glints every time it passes through the light.
His movements are fluid, as if the hwando were an extension of his arm. He inhales, swinging the blade diagonally upwards, and a soft whistling sound fills the air. Exhaling, he turns his hips, steps forward and makes a sharp cut in the air that could cut through silence itself.
As he moves into the next stance, he bends his knees and moves his right foot forward. The blade describes a circle, reflecting the light, and then disappears into the shadows again. His sharp movements alternate with graceful, almost dance-like transitions, as if he were performing a choreography known only to him.
Then he freezes, holding his hwando out in front of him with the tip of the blade pointing forward, his entire body is focused on a single axis. Another step, another lunge — precise and completely controlled. Every movement has a beginning and an end.
I never believed that someone who kills could look so graceful. I sit quietly on the steps, not wanting to disturb him while he practises. Resting my elbows on my knees and folding my head in my hands, I watch his precise movements. I can't take my eyes off him.
His body moves with such confidence and elegance that it resembles a dance. I admire the combination of raw power and precise discipline. I tell myself that I would never dare to stand against him.
Hyunjin's hair is glistening with sweat and he has a calm and focused expression. Each lunge appears to be aimed at an invisible enemy. I feel as though I am watching a warrior from another era, someone who could conquer the world with a single stroke of his sword.
Hyunjin swiftly swings his sword down to the side in one fluid movement, then turns his body and blade 180 degrees. He adopts a new stance, slashing diagonally from his shoulder to the opposite side, before finishing with a movement that depicts the smooth insertion of the sword into an imaginary sheath.
Hyunjin turns sideways, the sword glinting in his hand. With a quiet whistling sound, he cuts through the air. I watch him with fascination as the blade describes an arc, dancing along an invisible line. I realise I have been holding my breath. His every movement is precise, beautiful and chillingly dangerous.
Suddenly, I realise that he is no longer looking at an invisible opponent, but directly at me. Our eyes meet and I straighten up. I feel uncertain, but I don't look away. A barely noticeable half-smile appears on his face, as if he likes being watched.
„Want to try it?" he says quietly but firmly. His voice cuts through the silence as sharply as a sword.
„Me?" I ask, shifting on the stairs.
„I'll show you how to use it. It's not that complicated once you know how to wield it." He approaches me, holding the sword a few inches from my hands. I hesitate, feeling the weight of the moment — it's not just an offer of a weapon, but also of trust.
... ༺༻ ...
BLOOD DEBT (피의 빚)