(TW / CW) Domestic violence, murder, blood, distorted obsession and self-destructive tendencies, dark themes.

♪ Savior, Lee Hi (feat. B.I)

In the dark room, his reflection in the old wardrobe mirror resembled that man to a grotesque degree.

The tall height, the thick frame, the indifferent eyes that felt no emotion even in the face of violence. Yoon Sigyeom loathed his father more than anyone in the world, but blood was something that couldn't be hidden. Most days, he closed his eyes against the revulsion that surged whenever he looked in the mirror. He believed he would eventually become a blood-stained beast just like that man, living by trampling on others.

Until he met them.

(Omitted...) You traced my wounds in silence for a long time. The shouts of children from the playground beyond the window echoed distantly.

"...How do you plan on living like this?"

The question was tossed out along with the sound of a medicine box closing. Sigyeom leaned his head back against the bed frame and muttered half-heartedly.

"How else. What else is a thug's kid gonna do besides thug things." "...Come to school regularly." "..." "You have to graduate." "...Why do you care."

"...When we graduate."

Sigyeom rolled his round eyes toward you as you paused.

"...What."

You looked straight into Sigyeom's eyes and continued indifferently.

"If you fill your attendance days and graduate safely... do you want to live together then?"

A heavy silence settled in the infirmary for a moment.

In the dark, empty room, Sigyeom lay curled on the floor, clutching a dusty graduation certificate to his chest.

Several seasons had passed and a long time had flowed by, but his time remained thoroughly frozen at that crossroads of age twenty. If he closed his eyes, the air of the infirmary, where a cool breeze blew through the curtains, was still as vivid as if he could reach out and touch it.

Just two weeks before graduation, they disappeared like a lie.

As soon as the bell for break rang, he went to the classroom with two cans of coffee tucked in his pockets, but your seat was empty. One day, two days, a week passed, and only dust accumulated on the desk. Even when he went to the homeroom teacher to ask, all he got back were annoyed words saying it wasn't their business.

Only then did it hit him.

Come to think of it, he knew absolutely nothing about you. Not where you lived, what your family situation was, or even where he could go if contact was cut. Because you were always the one who approached him whenever he came in with wounds, his own ignorance—having only stood there and received—pierced his chest too late.

While the mechanical voice over the phone repeated that it was turned off, all Sigyeom, who had nowhere to go, could do was wander the empty classroom.

Was the problem that he didn't answer immediately when you asked to live together?

Did you get tired and leave because he just froze there, staring like an idiot? Did you realize that there was no tomorrow for someone like him and just let go?

Even though he knew it wasn't true, he blamed himself like that. He had to believe that you abandoned him because he was worthless; that way, he could at least harbor the hope that you were alive and well somewhere, rather than something bad having happened to you. In the end, the graduation certificate he received alone faded in Sigyeom's arms over the years, never finding its owner.

An immense amount of time passed without him knowing where you were or why you left, but Sigyeom is still trapped in the promise of that day, huddled in a ball.

Because you were the only thing he ever wanted in this fucked-up life.

I killed my father.

The beginning was pathetically hollow.

Unable to endure the usual beating, he had simply pushed him in a fit of pique. The staggering father's head crashed directly into the framed graduation certificate hanging on the wall. With a dull thud, the body slumped to the floor and never moved again.

To think the end of the man who pushed his life into hell was just this. It was a death so empty it was almost futile.

In that moment, staring blankly at the blood spreading across the floor, a thought flashed through his frozen mind.

Ah. Maybe the reason you aren't coming back is all my fault.

Thinking about it, it was obvious. The one you felt pity for and gave your heart to was the pitiful Yoon Sigyeom who came in covered in wounds every day, not a Yoon Sigyeom who lived a perfectly normal life without a single scratch.

There's no way you'd return to a version of me that became happy.

Should I turn myself in? If I become a prisoner locked behind bars, would you visit me at least once out of pity?

Or should I walk through the middle of Seoul dragging this corpse? If my face is plastered all over the 9 o'clock news and known nationwide, would you see me from somewhere, click your tongue, and come back?

Sigyeom lay curled on the floor next to the corpse in the blood-scented room. He was clutching the graduation certificate, the only remaining trace of you, to his chest.

The evidence of the only happiness in his life, which had made him dream of a future with you.

Sigyeom violently twisted and snapped the frame that held the glass. With a crashing sound, shards of glass scattered sharply. His palms were cut and red blood dripped down, but Sigyeom persisted until he tore the paper and smashed the frame to pieces.

Having destroyed even the last salvation that connected him to you with his own hands, Sigyeom buried his face in his bloodied hands.

A cracked voice echoed low in the blood-filled room.

I'm not happy anymore. I'll never be happy again.

Guest. I miss you.