My Bloody Valentine - 51

The sparse remnants of snow that remained on the trees along the roadside began to melt. Droplets of water dripped onto the pavement from the tips of the branches.

Just a short while ago, pedestrians had been wearing thick padded jackets like blankets, but now their clothes noticeably seemed thinner.

Although there had been cold wave warnings issued, it had only been for a few days. This winter was making way for spring unusually quickly.

“Hey, it seems like global warming might be real. This winter doesn’t feel as cold as the last couple of years.”

“Yeah, it’s spring now. We’ve already passed the Beginning of Spring. The air feels different already.”

Yujung stretched long, taking in the morning air. Han followed suit, inhaling deeply alongside her.

Thanks to the chilly air, their lungs, which had been accustomed to the stuffy air of the underground, felt refreshed.

“Oh! Jaegu sent me a picture? It’s a photo after his eye surgery. Do you want to see? He asked me to tell you not to regret it. Says he looks handsome now.”

“Regret? What for?”

Woo-sin manipulated his phone and extended it onto the table. The screen showed Jaegu’s face with slightly more pronounced features. Han smiled widely with joy.

A little distance away from the convenience store where they were sitting, there was the exit of the hotel’s underground parking lot. And inside the black sedan emerging from underground was Taeshin.

He was not only the representative of Tasenda but also a managing director of Cheongsong Construction. He would come to the site and handle business a few times a week like everyone else, starting work at the same time.

As Taeshin rode the early morning commute, he inadvertently spotted Han through the car window.

Three people were seated together under the parasol in front of the convenience store.

Opposite Han was Yujung, and next to her was a newcomer who had just come in as a waiter. He was the man who had his arm around Han’s shoulder in front of the doll vending machine. His name was Kim Woo-sin, if he recalled correctly.

“Wait. Pull over for a moment.”

Instructing the driver to briefly stop, Taeshin looked at Han with faintly lit eyes.

Han was wearing a light gray padded jacket that reached down to his knees. Despite fasting for a few days, his face was still gaunt, but due to the cold weather, his cheeks were flushed with color.

Beep, beep, beep.

A car waiting behind them started honking loudly.

“Uh…”

Myungsub, who was holding the steering wheel, looked at Taeshin through the rearview mirror with a troubled expression. But Taeshin’s gaze still did not leave Han. Myungsub, who was quick-witted, quietly got out of the car and went to the driver’s seat of the car behind.

Covered in tattoos, Myungsub, who stood at 195cm tall, was a man who could be guessed at his profession just by his appearance. Just his tapping on the window of the driver’s seat made the honking stop, and the car behind them became quiet.

After briefly glancing at the noisy side, Han turned his head back and continued the conversation. He laughed even with his eyes closed, as if he had heard a funny joke.

He laughs well.

Seeing him so different from when he was in my hands, lying there as if he had lost the will to live, made me feel like I was seeing a completely different person. But still, a feeling of discomfort crept over me.

“Why is it that I’m not the one who makes you want to live?”

Taeshin, with a discontented furrow in his brow, turned his head. He didn’t forget to give his final command.

“Increase the staff at Tasenda.”

“We’ve already increased it. Do you want more here?”

“Yeah.”

It couldn’t have been an easy thing to ask for. It meant that there were things he needed to protect.

❖ ❖ ❖

Han squeezed various colors of paint onto several paper cups. He used acrylic paint on a palette because once it dried out, it became difficult to use again.

The trays, which had become useless and wrinkled, made excellent disposable palettes. Han mixed plenty of water into the paint. When acrylic paint is mixed with a lot of water, it can be used like watercolors.

Yujung was someone who suited clear and transparent watercolors. Heavy and dark colors or a dull texture didn’t suit her.

Those colors were more fitting for the man on the 15th floor. He was a man who excessively painted with dark paint like tar, making it overly sharp and dense.

With a nod, Han cleared his mind and began to fill the canvas with paint strokes. As Yujung, who had been watching him paint, grew bored and lay on the bed, she picked up the remote and turned on the TV. The morning program, which covered genres like current affairs, entertainment, and news, was in full swing.

After watching for a while, Yujung suddenly sat up.

“Oh!”

Watching her making a fuss, Yujung looked at the TV. Large white letters were displayed on a blue banner at the bottom of the screen.

“Breaking News! Actress Shin Soyoung Divorces!”

It was quite remarkable how they interrupted other content with subtitles under the name “Breaking News,” as if it were a national disaster.

“This just came in. At 9 a.m. today, actress Shin Soyoung posted on her SNS, confessing her divorce. The contents of the post are as follows:

‘I have decided to part ways with the person I have been married to for the past five years and return to being friends. We have been through some unfounded rumors about our marriage, but they are not true. We will remain each other’s closest friends, supporting each other’s happiness.’

She referred to some unfounded rumors, which seem to be about the recent separation reported by some media outlets a month ago…”

Yujung clicked her tongue with a sympathetic expression as she watched the TV.

“Ah, so they’re divorcing after all.”

In Yujung’s tone, which seemed to have already guessed, Han asked.

“After all?”

“Apparently, Shin Soyoung was against it from the beginning because her husband was older.”

“Really? Even though she’s one of the top actresses in Korea, why oppose it?”

“Shin Soyoung was thirty-three when she got married. But her husband was five years younger and it was his first marriage.”

“Why does that matter? Isn’t it Shin Soyoung’s first marriage too?”

“It’s about the second generation issue. You know, you need children to inherit all that wealth, right? But it seems like they tried hard, but couldn’t have a child. There were paparazzi photos of Shin Soyoung’s husband going to the obstetrics and gynecology clinic with her. But that hospital was a famous infertility clinic.”

“Ah…”

“They seemed like a real couple… He was a chaebol, too. Even if they weren’t a good match, they could have just lived together…”

“Was her husband very wealthy?”

“Yeah! He was the second son of Seonyul Group, you know? The president of Seonyul Motors!”

Seonyul was the largest conglomerate in Korea and showed an overwhelming gap with the second-ranked group in all sectors. There was hardly a household without a Seonyul logo on at least one home appliance.

She muttered to herself as she watched the discussion about the size of the alimony she would receive.

“People can be so awful…”

“Hmm?”

Han, with a brush in hand, looked up at her. Just a moment ago, Yujung had been watching the TV with twinkling eyes, but now she stared into space with a despondent expression.

“I’m talking about myself. What should I call this feeling? It’s supposed to be comforting.”

“Ah…”

Shin Soyoung was the object of Yujung’s admiration. She was the only actress in our country to lead movies to box office hits, essentially ruling the roost in a film industry that was like a barren land.

Without marrying until her 40s, she had tirelessly built her career, whether as a lead or supporting actress.

Even after marriage, she continued her acting career. Despite not needing to work for a living, she feared losing her touch if she took too long of a break from acting.

A drama Han had recently seen her starring in as a lawyer was filmed after her marriage.

“It feels so pitiful. Even the perfect Shin Soyoung faces such failure, and I find solace in that.”

“…It’s natural. There’s nothing pitiful about it.”

Han actually admired Yujung for candidly acknowledging her emotions. It reminded him of a phrase he had read in a book somewhere.

“You know, there’s a saying in almost every country that others’ misfortunes taste sweet.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah. In our country, we say ‘someone else’s misfortune is a windfall.'”

China has “興家濟國” (xing jia ji guo), France has “au malheur des uns, le bonheur des autres,” and Germany has “Schadenfreude.” They all express the sinister joy people feel in others’ suffering.

“So, you don’t have to blame yourself. Yujung, you’re not a bad person. You’re just an ordinary person.”

Yujung chuckled at Han’s words. No wonder she couldn’t help but like him.

“Han, you’re really kind.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Well… That’s probably why you acted as a guarantor.”

“It’s not a guarantor! I said it’s similar to a guarantor, right?”

“Hmph. It’s practically the same thing.”

As Yujung, who had been tossing and turning while hugging her pillow, sat up and asked:

“But, who is that person you talked about as the guarantor?”

“Who?”

“The person you mentioned as the guarantor.”

“Ah…”

When was the first time Han met Haejun? He quietly tried to remember.