Zion's Garden - Chapter 7.3
“That’s an interesting question. Aren’t you horrified by me, Doctor?”
“No. You’d be surprised how many people harbor resentment toward their families.”
“Does that include you, Doctor?”
Zion’s question caught me off guard. I pushed my slipping glasses up my nose.
“When I was in high school, I thought if I ever found out who my father was, I’d kill him on sight. I saw my mother sitting at a protest against the demolition of the red-light district.”
I was telling Zion something I hadn’t shared with anyone else. The memory of that winter day, when the bitter wind bit through my worn school jacket as I watched my frail mother sitting on the dark asphalt, clawed at my mind.
“What did you do after that?”
“What could I do? I went to the neighborhood convenience store and bought a bottle of soju. Drinking straight from the bottle tasted awful, but it made life bearable for a moment. It was the first time I’d ever drunk alcohol, and I didn’t even get drunk. Until then, I’d thought there was nothing I inherited from my mother, but I guess bl00d doesn’t lie. She could drink like a fish.”
Zion got up and retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the bar. I watched as he carefully placed two ice cubes in a crystal glass. He handed me the glass, and I took it, sipping slowly. The warmth spread through my throat. Zion, now seated, propped his chin on his hand and muttered as he gazed at me.
“It’s a good thing the doctor doesn’t know who his father is.”
“If I did, I wouldn’t be sitting here. I’d probably be in prison for murder, not a doctor. And Zion wouldn’t be serving me drinks.”
I chuckled dryly and downed the rest of the whiskey in one gulp. He wasn’t wrong. Sharing expensive Scotch in Zion’s opulent mansion while discussing my faceless father felt surreal. The most surreal part of it all was Zion, smiling as he refilled my glass.
“Should I bow in gratitude? A superstar serving a lowly doctor drinks is an honor.”
My sarcastic tone made Zion lean closer with a bright, teasing smile.
“Ha-ha, should I go all out and provide full service too?”
“No, thanks. Move your face away. It makes my heart race.”
I paused mid-sip, caught by the shift in his gaze. Damn. I cursed myself for letting those words slip and hastily tried to cover it up.
“When a face like yours gets too close, anyone—man or woman—would lose their train of thought…”
Zion nodded slowly, a knowing smile playing on his lips that left me flustered.
“The doctor’s heart races when he looks at Zion.”
“It’s not that. It’s just that your face is so unreal. Anyone would react the same way.”
“Of course, it’s unreal. This face was built piece by piece. Doctor, are you not interested in plastic surgery?”
It was true that his face had changed from the boy I’d seen singing carols on TV. But even then, he had been an angel. That hadn’t changed.
“No matter how much work you’ve had done, Zion, you’re still dangerous. So step back. Why don’t you ever listen?”
If he came any closer, I wouldn’t be able to control myself. Clenching my jaw, I leaned back as far as I could.
“Why is Zion dangerous? Doctor, look at me and answer.”
“Are you teasing me?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Hey!”
I couldn’t hold it in any longer and turned toward him, snorting like an angry bull. Zion’s face was inches from mine. He grinned, showing his white teeth, and gently removed my glasses.
“…Gasp…”
His lips tasted faintly of sweet corn soup. I buried my fingers in his hair as he leaned in, deepening the kiss. When he tilted his head, our connection intensified, and his tongue wrapped around mine. I pulled him closer, wanting more, intoxicated by the scent of Zion more than the whiskey on my breath.
“Doctor.”
He broke the kiss, leaving a thin thread of saliva between our lips, and whispered. I breathed heavily, trying to hide the tremor in my voice as I spoke.
“I told you, you’re dangerous. Kim Zion, stop making me lose control. Please. I don’t want to go insane.”
Zion looked at me, murmuring seductively with those crimson lips.
“Why not? There’s no one here to judge you. Be honest, Doctor. Should I start? Zion’s body tingles with every word you say. So I’m going to kiss you again. Right now.”
The allure in his voice was maddening. All I could do was accept as he pressed his lips to mine once more. Again, this wasn’t my fault.
The first and last time I dated a woman was in my second year of university.
She was a classmate in pre-med, the daughter of two doctors. She had always thought becoming a doctor was a given, she said with a bright smile. She came from a completely different world—an upbringing as pristine as a greenhouse flower. True to her upbringing, she was deeply involved in volunteer work and global peace initiatives. When I heard her at the freshman welcome party, talking about how her dream was to do medical volunteer work in a third-world country, I labeled her as hypocritical in my mind. I’ve always been cynical.
She was the one who approached me first in the library. I was an outsider even at school. I didn’t remember that we’d been in the same general education group the semester before until she mentioned it. She slowly broke through my walls with her gentle smile and warm cups of canned coffee. Six months in, I realized that our relationship had become something like what people called a “campus couple.” The only difference was that our dates took place in the library, and when we ate out, she was always the one who paid. Back then, as now, my wallet was perpetually empty.
She never asked about my background, but she must have known I had nothing compared to her. Sometimes, she’d give me thick textbooks under the guise of gifts with flimsy excuses. She wasn’t hypocritical but genuinely kind. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to love her back.
“I know you’ve never seen me as a woman. That’s something I have to bear because I chose to love you.”