TTDOTO 5.4 The Past – Sugarcoating

Jae-rim’s father left him in a small Seoul rental and went on a trip with Lee Han-yoon. Watching TV alone, Jae-rim froze at the late-night doorbell.

His father had warned against opening the door to strangers while he was away. The persistent ringing stopped, followed by the sound of the door lock opening.

If it were his father, he wouldn’t have rung the bell. As Jae-rim leapt to hide, a familiar voice called.

“Jae-rim. Sorry for opening the door. You’re here.”

It was a man who helped his father, someone who often cared for Jae-rim when his father was abroad, closer to him emotionally than his father.

Seeing a known face eased his fear. Jae-rim, eyes wide with unease, stared up as the man smiled awkwardly.

“Han Jong-seok. You know me, right?”

Jae-rim nodded stiffly. With a short sigh, Han Jong-seok grabbed his hand, spilling an unbelievable story.

His father, in Vietnam, died in a car accident that morning. Jae-rim was taken to the police station.

Late at night, entering the lit station, he saw pale-faced relatives and his aunt.

Vietnam, car accident, three charred bodies, repatriation, insurance, terms, crime, suspicion, and funeral.

At ten, Jae-rim found the adults’ talk confusing. Han Jong-seok handled most matters, but the unfamiliar setting stressed Jae-rim. Dazed, he was dragged along, sitting quietly, waiting for the adults to finish.

“Was the person traveling with your father a friend?”

His aunt, hearing that someone had died with his father, questioned Jae-rim.

Friend…? The image of two adults kissing and giggling in the narrow dressing room flashed.

But Jae-rim nodded calmly. “I’m close with Lee Jae-an, his son…” Hoping to see Jae-an, he added this, but his voice drowned in the adults’ clamor.

Only after hearing that his father was truly dead did tears well up. His father’s death saddened him, but learning Lee Jae-an’s father died too hurt him more.

He had Han Jong-seok, but was Jae-an alone, hearing these hard words? How would he see Jae-an now…? Wiping his eyes with a snotty sleeve, his mind fixated on Jae-an.

Days later, Seung-hyeop and Han-yoon’s funeral was held, burning their clothes and a few belongings. A fire after the accident charred the bodies, making repatriation impossible.

After the crude funeral with no bodies or mourners, relatives, led by his aunt, stormed the house, rummaging through drawers, grumbling about no bankbooks or valuables.

“This is all the stuff?”

Jae-rim nodded. The rented house, barely livable, had little furniture and nothing valuable. His uncle’s tongue-click echoed sharply.

With nowhere to go, Jae-rim lived with his aunt’s family. They were kind at first, but their attitude shifted after Han Jong-seok’s visit.

His father, involved in dangerous work, had a notarized will, with Han Jong-seok as guardian of his estate until Jae-rim came of age. His father’s hoarded wealth would transfer to Jae-rim later.

At the time, Jae-rim didn’t fully grasp it but knew his aunt and uncle were disappointed. Realizing no benefits would come, they treated him poorly. Unable to endure, Jae-rim left.

That day, he hit the jackpot in life’s first gamble. The angel, Lee Jae-an, took him in, pitying the parasite who clung and wouldn’t leave.

Grateful for the shelter, Jae-rim’s heart ached. One day, Jae-an grabbed him, bowing.

“Sorry, Jae-rim.”

He apologized suddenly. His father suggested the trip, making Jae-rim an orphan. Jae-an couldn’t lift his head.

It was two days before their fathers’ first memorial. Jae-rim realized why Jae-an took him in—not affection, but guilt. The kind Jae-an couldn’t abandon him because of it.

Poor Jae-an, every memorial, drooped like a puppy, watching Jae-rim. Though sorry, Jae-rim liked that expression. It let him sway the usually dry, listless Jae-an emotionally.

So, on memorials, Jae-rim feigned gloom, locking himself in bed to gauge Jae-an’s reaction. Foolish Jae-an hovered, opening and closing the door.

The eager attention born of guilt was rich fodder. Jae-rim lapped it up like a dog, nurturing dark emotions.

Unspeakable desires hatched, simmering in his veins, birthing unthinkable greed.

He hated Jae-an, feeling only guilt. He craved something dirtier, stickier, hotter. As years passed, his desires for Jae-an grew, all ugly and filthy, never to be exposed.

*****

After entering high school, Jae-rim learned that Han Jong-seok was his father’s secretary. Checking on him yearly by phone, Han visited a year before Jae-rim’s legal adulthood, revealing his father’s work.

Jae-rim expected it wasn’t legal, but his father was deeply involved in illicit activities. Initially a distributor for Mexican drugs, he later collaborated with a researcher to develop a drug that was undetectable and innovative. But the researcher vanished, leaving Seung-hyeop to handle production and distribution.

The company earned vast sums, but his father’s unexpected death halted production. The drug, made in secret, was known only to Seung-hyeop, rendering replication impossible. Han said the formula was encrypted and inaccessible.

Despite efforts to recreate it with new researchers, slight molecular changes failed. The company barely survived by distributing older drugs.

Han, saying his role ended, handed Jae-rim a USB with the will, asking if he knew the drug formula’s password. Jae-rim shook his head. Han, with a wistful smile, asked him to decide whether to continue or liquidate the business.

Jae-rim planned to liquidate. Jae-an wanted him to be a chef. With the estate, he’d open a small Western restaurant near Jae-an’s house.

But one winter evening, his peaceful plan was shattered.

Waiting for Jae-an’s return, Jae-rim heard the door lock.

“Hyung, you’re back?”

His golden eyes, bright with joy, froze on Jae-an’s pale face. Kicking off his shoes awkwardly, avoiding eye contact, Jae-an tried to pass. Clearly dodging.

Grabbing his wrist and lifting his chin, Jae-rim saw bruises around his eyes and blood on his lips. His expression twisted.

“What’s this?”

“Fell… at the library.”

Jae-an, bad at lying, avoided his gaze, pulling away. He fled to his room.

Jae-rim followed, closing the gap. Rage boiled. He knew Jae-an lied often.

Pretending to believe Jae-an studied late, Jae-rim knew he worked at a gamjatang restaurant until dawn. With enough from tutoring, why overwork? Jae-rim fumed but couldn’t confront him, tracking his phone secretly.

He couldn’t ignore the beating.

Wedging into the closing door, Jae-rim entered. Jae-an, undressing, widened his eyes, fretting about Jae-rim getting hurt. Patience snapped.

“Those are beating marks.”

Closing in, he fired questions.

“Customer hit you? The boss? Who?”

“Uh…?”

Jae-an’s light eyes shook, then he forced a sheepish look.

“How’d you know about the job?”

“A friend saw you.”

“Me…?”

“That’s not the point. Why’d you get hit?”

Spouting whatever came, Jae-rim pressed. Embarrassed, Jae-an downplayed it.

“Customers fought, I got caught breaking it up… It’s not bad.”

You know I bruise easily. Smiling faintly, Jae-an glanced at him.

“Guess you knew about the job… Kinda embarrassing.”

At his deflated tone, Jae-rim sat him on the bed. Grabbing a first-aid kit, Jae-an waited, face offered. His compliance fueled Jae-rim’s anger.

Applying bruise ointment to his purpling cheek, Jae-rim suppressed rage.

‘I can’t even touch him roughly… Who dared?‘

He wanted to kill them. Not figuratively—find them, crush their skulls unseen.

But he had no means, money, or backing.

Failing to kill Jae-an’s attacker, knowing Jae-an suffered, and failing to protect him filled Jae-rim with unbearable defeat.

“…Mad?”

The hand applying the ointment paused. Jae-an, eyes closed, met his gaze.

“Sorry. Don’t be mad.”

He patted Jae-rim’s hand gently. Blinking, Jae-rim hid his cold expression.

“Not mad at you, hyung.”

“…You are.”

Looking at the dejected Jae-an, Jae-rim realized what he needed for a peaceful life. Not a small restaurant. Money and power to control lives were everything.

That night, he plugged in the USB. Scanning the will’s documents, most were accessible, but the drug file needed a key, as Han said.

‘Breakthrough drug.’ It meant money. No password hints from his father, but it was likely guessable.

Sighing, Jae-rim tapped the mouse, clicking the file. It required a six-digit number. What number mattered to his father and him? His eyes narrowed. Six digits, etched like a tattoo, surfaced.

Lee Han-yoon’s real birthday is different from his registry.

His father, who never celebrated Jae-rim’s birthday, always returned from abroad for Han-yoon’s, staying at Jae-an’s. Jae-rim was forced to read letters and perform dances.

“No way…”

An indescribable emotion surged. Muttering, he entered the unforgettable digits, piecing together Han-yoon’s birthday from memory.

In three tries, the password unlocked a 40-page document. Staring, Jae-rim laughed hollowly. His father was mad.

With the document, Jae-rim, upon turning adult, met Han Jong-seok to restart the business. Using his father’s estate, he secured factory sites domestically and abroad, hiring researchers and workers. New to drugs, he needed time to learn.

To Jae-an, he claimed he was studying cooking. Hearing he’d study abroad for a year, Jae-an, rarely smiling, clapped. Jae-rim, sleepless over the separation, fumed at his excitement.

Jae-an sat him on the sofa, fetching a bank envelope.

“What’s this?”

“For tuition. Use it for studies.”

Opening it, Jae-rim saw colorful bills. Noticing his stiffening face, Jae-an explained.

“Take it, even if you don’t go to college. You’ll need it as an adult.”

Jae-rim stared at the crumpled envelope. Jae-an had slaved for his tuition. A new emotion welled in his eyes.

Looking up at Jae-an, standing while he sat, in a rare angle, their eyes locked silently.

Jae-an’s clear face, even bruised, clawed at Jae-rim’s heart. Not sadness, anger, or joy—a fierce premonition he’d be bound to Jae-an forever, so intense it felt powerless.

Vowing Jae-an would never suffer for his sake again, Jae-rim swore to sacrifice anything for him.

Suppressing the heavy thrill, he returned the envelope. Jae-an shook his head, pushing it back.

“Take it. It eases my heart.”

He ruffled Jae-rim’s hair.

“You’ve grown, our Jae-rim.”

Smiling angelically, Jae-an’s face left Jae-rim unable to smile. Wordlessly, he hugged Jae-an’s waist, pressing his forehead to his chest. Jae-an stiffened, then laughed softly, stroking his back.

From then on, whenever facing his humanity’s depths, Jae-rim looked at that crumpled envelope:

Threatening someone first.

Finding a debtor dead, syringe in arm.

Getting blood on his hands.

Losing guilt over killing.

At the human-beast crossroads, Jae-an’s five-million-won envelope became a talisman. Ironically, Jae-an’s kindness fueled his descent from humanity.

A year later, Jae-rim returned and opened a restaurant to meet Jae-an’s pure expectations. With drug profits and connections, a facade restaurant was easy.

“Jae-rim, I’m so proud.”

On opening day, Jae-an’s face gazed at him. His innocence, unbearably lovable, made Jae-rim’s lies more intricate.

Jae-an, unaware that Jae-rim’s scarred hands came from cutting debtors’ fingers, told him to handle knives carefully. After Jae-rim tortured someone, Jae-an patted his shoulder, saying he worked hard.

Watching Jae-rim cook, Jae-an stood on tiptoes to ruffle his hair, or secretly visited the restaurant, watching quietly before leaving. His sparkling eyes were blind to it.

The charade never ended.

Alone, Jae-rim obsessively inhaled his scent. No matter how he mimicked normalcy, the drug and blood stench lingered, like his true nature.

‘Will Hyung smell this if he knows? Will he find me disgusting? Is it greedy to want him to embrace my rotten core?’ Stroking the angel statue, he prayed impossibly, donning a good-man mask before Jae-an.

“When Hyung eats my food happily, I’m happiest.”

“I became a chef because of you.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“Hyung, you’re all I have.”

Sugarcoating, he caressed Jae-an, filling his empty heart with lies. If even a false self won Jae-an’s care, it didn’t matter. Perhaps it was a struggle not to be abandoned.