Zion's Garden - Chapter 3.3

His song began, gentle and pure, weaving its way through the crackling old television speakers.

Silent night, holy night.

A night wrapped in shadows, secretive and still.

When parents sit down and give thanks,
The baby sleeps well.

The baby sleeps well.

The organ accompaniment faded, leaving only his voice to fill the cavernous space. The audience, vast and motionless, seemed to hold its collective breath. There was something otherworldly in the sound, a beauty so profound it felt disembodied. I found myself transfixed, unable to look away, barely daring to breathe. The boy sang through every verse, his voice unwavering, before offering a shy, almost bashful smile that hinted at innocence untouched by the weight of admiration.

That was the day my mother, seeking salvation in a saintly guise, went to meet the God she believed would save her.

　For me, that Christmas was the day I met an angel.

　”Zion thinks he wants to have sex with the doctor.”

　His lips opened slowly. His hands were still moving inside my pants. Zion’s large eyes hidden under his long eyelashes met mine. I bit my lip and glared at him.

　”Since when have you been living like this?” My voice quivered as my knees threatened to give out beneath me. Zion’s hand remained relentless, testing my resolve, searching for something raw and unrestrained in me.

“What?” he whispered, a cruel amusement flickering in his eyes.
“Have you always used yourself like this to get what you want?”

I spat out, the bitterness coating my words. “Do you mock the ones who kneel before you, powerless and broken? Do you laugh at those who can’t help but reach for you, the ones who stab at the illusion you give them?”

He tilted his head, a shadow of confusion, or perhaps mockery, crossing his flawless face. “What do I want?”

“You ask because you don’t know?” My voice cracked. “You damned pharmacist.”

Zion leaned closer, a smile ghosting his lips. “You want me too, don’t you? Give and take. Is it so wrong to want, to take, and to give back?”

My body trembled on the edge, his touch overwhelming, an exquisite torment that made shame curdle in my stomach. I tried to shove his hand away, but he caught my wrist effortlessly and pushed me down, the weight of him pressing against my will.
“You can use me like the rest. If you want to break me, break me. If you want to curse me, curse me. People find joy in spilling their darkest desires onto me. That’s Zion’s role. My fate was carved from the day I drew breath. They throw their money at me, and I take it, give them what they crave. That’s all I know how to do.”

He paused, eyes locking with mine, a question—no, a challenge—simmering in their depths. “But tell me, Doctor, how much of my truth did I have to bare for you?”

　“I don’t know if I should keep begging you, but I’m done trying,” he said, his voice dropping into a tone I had never heard before, laced with an unfamiliar edge. His grip on my wrist tightened, the pain sharp enough to jolt me. My eyes stung, and the chill against my nose made me shiver.

“There’s something you don’t seem to understand, so let me make this clear,” he continued, the words deliberate, cutting. I swallowed, the dryness in my throat catching. Heat surged in my chest, twisting, burning.

“I’m sorry, but I have no interest in sleeping with you, Mr. Kim Si-on.”

I fought to steady my breathing, each breath coming quicker than the last. His eyes, dark and unreadable, narrowed as he asked, “Why? Because I’m a man?”

“No. That’s not it,” I said, my voice cold, unwavering.

“Then why?” The frown deepened, his perfect features hardening as if he could not fathom the audacity of my rejection. He loomed over me, an angel fallen from grace, halo cracked and temper frayed.

I took in a shuddering breath, the weight of the truth pressing against my ribcage. “Because I can’t stand those who sell themselves, no matter who they are—man or woman. I despise it.”
His expression remained frozen, searching, dissecting me for some lie. I let out a low, humorless chuckle, the sound sharp and brittle. “That’s the truth of it. Everyone who lives like that ends up lost. A life like that—it ends in loss.”

The silence thickened around us, my words sinking in like stones thrown into deep water.

Zion remained silent, his face unreadable. The irony of it all sent another wave of laughter spilling from my lips, raw and jagged. The room seemed to spin with the absurdity of it—a twisted stage play starring me, a small-time doctor and son of a prostitute, tangled in sheets with Zion, the world-famous star. A man whose dark secret was worth two billion won. An addict. A melancholic idol. Was there a greater mockery of fate than this?

“Hah… hah… God, what a joke.”

Zion’s gaze held mine, unblinking as I shook with mirth. He didn’t flinch. Slowly, the tension in his grip around my wrist loosened, and he raised his hand, fingers pale and delicate, brushing against my cheek with the lightest touch.

　”Why are you crying, Doctor?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the warmth of tears spill over, trailing down my cheeks. In that brief, breathless moment, I felt the brush of his lips at the corner of my eye, soft and lingering, stealing the weight of my sorrow.