TDOTO 4.1 [Part 1]

Pressing the accelerator, the car hurtled off a cliff, tumbling end over end. Jae-an’s body slammed against the interior like a ragdoll, yet no pain came. The car snagged on a tree, halting. Thick smoke filled the cabin.
Despite the crash, he didn’t lose consciousness; instead, pain sharpened. Not from the impacts, but from his throat, unbearably tight. The seatbelt had wrapped around his neck, strangling him.
Would he die in an accident, or by hanging? The trivial thought crossed his mind as he surrendered to the suffocating grip.
“Ghk!”
His body sank, and his eyes snapped open. Scanning the ceiling, disappointment flooded Jae-an’s gaze.
Another dream.
“….”
He couldn’t recall when it started, but dreams of dying haunted him relentlessly. Waking from the struggle of near-death left him hollow. Now, though, a deeper melancholy, threatening to swallow his heart, overwhelmed the emptiness.
Waking to this wallpaper after countless blackouts, his tenacious life felt loathsome.
“…Ngh.”
Trying to swallow, Jae-an winced. His throat was so swollen that even saliva was hard to manage. Realizing why the dream’s strangling felt so real, memories of fainting flooded back. His expression darkened uncontrollably.
Jae-rim might not know, but Jae-an truly thought he’d die this time. Choking on a penis wasn’t the end he’d imagined, but he’d wanted to die, even cloaked in shame.
So he never begged for life. Unbelievably, Jae-rim didn’t pull out until he passed out. As his vision blackened and his gasps faded, he’d resigned himself to death.
But he only collapsed. He lived. As Jae-rim said, people don’t die easily. A hollow laugh curved Jae-an’s lips.
“Awake?”
A sudden unfamiliar voice made Jae-an flinch. His wary gaze landed on a man peering into the bedroom. He’d seen him once before. The man closed the door and approached.
“We’ve met, right?”
It was as if he’d read Jae-an’s mind. Naked under a thin sheet, Jae-an’s ears burned with embarrassment and shame. He turned away without answering.
The man, not expecting a reply, continued,
“I’m late introducing myself. I’m Park Seo-won, I work with Seo Jae-rim.”
“….”
“You got antipyretics while you were out, and this is for body aches.”
Lowering his gaze, Jae-an saw a bandage on one hand. A prick followed as a needle pierced the other. Park Seo-won deftly connected the IV line.
Adjusting the drip, he sat on a stool by the bed.
“I’ve heard about you from Jae-rim.”
Ignoring him felt rude, so Jae-an, staring at the ceiling, parted dry lips.
“Jae-rim talked about me?”
Jae-rim had never mentioned this man. A stranger who knew Jae-rim, who’d spoken of Jae-an. It was hard to believe.
“Sometimes, but for Jae-rim, that’s often. He’s not one to talk about himself.”
Jae-an blinked. The man said they worked together, yet Jae-an had no memory of him from Jae-rim’s restaurant.
“With Jae-rim… you work together?”
“Yeah. Not the same job, though. I’m a researcher.”
He’s blue-collar, I’m white-collar. The man’s joking addition didn’t amuse Jae-an. If Jae-rim employed researchers for drug trafficking, it wasn’t a mere whim.
“It’s bad business, right? Dangerous…”
“Maybe…”
Muttering, Park Seo-won pulled a translucent case from his bag.
“I’ll apply some ointment. Your face is a mess.”
Deflecting smoothly, he squeezed ointment onto a cotton swab. As it touched Jae-an’s cheek, sharp pain flared. Bruise-soothing cream went on his cheekbone, pummeled by fists; wound ointment coated his torn lips.
Bruises hadn’t faded from his forehead and jaw before new ones bloomed on his cheek, his mouth ripped. His face was obviously wrecked. He’d never imagined being hit, especially by Jae-rim. His eyes drooped with sorrow.
Seeing Jae-an’s dejected face, Park Seo-won said,
“Jae-rim must be really angry.”
“….”
“He doesn’t raise a hand to those close to him.”
Not questioning the beating or captivity, but accepting it as Jae-rim’s anger, Park Seo-won implied Jae-rim’s violence was natural.
Jae-rim hadn’t changed suddenly—Jae-an had been fooled by a facade. The childlike Jae-rim, reluctant to share his work for fear of being hated, now felt crueler.
“What Jae-rim does… is it very dangerous?”
“…I’ll tell him you’re worried.”
The topic circled back. Tossing the swab in the trash, Park Seo-won checked the IV.
“Better not talk. Your throat’s swollen.”
Fearing he’d guess why, Jae-an bit his lips and lowered his eyes. A phone rang. Park Seo-won, pulling it from his pocket, tucked it between shoulder and jaw, packing up syringes and medicine.
“Yes, Secretary. Yeah, he just woke. Fever’s not down, but better than before. Should be gone by tomorrow.”
Jae-an knew they were discussing him but tuned it out. “Yes, heading to the office now,” Park Seo-won said, ending the call.
“I’m off. Jae-rim should be back when the IV’s done.”
With a bright smile, he left. Silence filled the room.
Jae-an sat up shakily. Staring at the dark view beyond the bedroom window, he glanced at the wall clock.
Ten p.m. He’d been out a full day, and Jae-rim hadn’t returned. Once, he’d have pitied Jae-rim working late at the restaurant. Now, he feared what Jae-rim was doing at this hour.
“What’s that guy up to…”
Biting his lips, his thoughts spiraled darkly.
Jae-rim had sliced a man’s wrist before his eyes, ordering him “burned” too. Not just one—others had been killed.
Employing a researcher like Park Seo-won to make and sell drugs, killing without hesitation—it was blatant crime. Too caught up in his own pain, Jae-an hadn’t fully grasped Jae-rim’s deeds. But now, knowing they were crimes, he had to stop Jae-rim from ruining more lives. Even now, Jae-rim might be harming someone.
“I should report him…”
But his eyes flickered with unease. He couldn’t bring himself to turn Jae-rim in, nor would it likely matter.
Jae-rim’s calm confidence, as if he’d never be caught.
Appearing on that rooftop, as if waiting, when Jae-an didn’t even know where he was.
The meticulous double life that fooled even Jae-an, who’d lived with him.
Reporting him, let alone escaping, was impossible. Even if he stole a phone, would his testimony alone convict Jae-rim? If Jae-rim had covered every loophole, what then?
Imagining Jae-rim’s pretty, unaffected smile twisted Jae-an’s stomach, nausea rising.
But he couldn’t just sit here.
Jae-rim had deceived him for years. To avoid being further victimized, Jae-an needed to know who Jae-rim was, what he hid, and how far he’d go. Otherwise, Jae-rim’s true nature would destroy him completely, likely ending in murder.
Jae-an pulled out the IV needle and staggered out. Numb to the CCTV, he’d lost the will to cover his nakedness.
Exhaling softly, he rose from the sofa, opening and closing doors. Beyond the bedroom and home gym, rooms were empty, bare of furniture. Only Jae-rim’s bedroom and dressing room might hold clues.
Then he recalled the room where he’d been chained yesterday, stacked with mysterious boxes. Could they hold evidence? Proof of crimes, details of Jae-rim’s work, or even a hint of his true self—anything would do.
Jae-an headed there. Could he really rummage through? But Jae-rim had chained him beside those boxes openly. If he didn’t want them searched, he wouldn’t have confined him there.
Seeing the chain on the floor, yesterday’s horror resurfaced. Turning away grimly, he grabbed a nearby box’s lid.
Counting silently, he opened it.
“….”
His tense eyes scanned inside. His expression shifted oddly.
Toothbrushes, cups, forks, plates, stationery—mundane household items filled it. Disappointment sank in.
But he kept digging, unable to let go. The darkest place is under the lamp; something might be hidden.
Yet, even at the bottom, nothing. Jae-rim wouldn’t be so careless, he realized too late.
As he moved to close the lid, something familiar caught his eye.
Narrowing his gaze, he picked up an old water bottle. It was his, from college, lightweight and sturdy, used throughout his studies. His student ID and name, scrawled in marker, faintly remained.
“What, it’s really mine.”
In disbelief, he pushed the box aside and opened another. It, too, was stuffed with random items—his items. Some, he distinctly remembered throwing out.
“Why would he…”
Thinking Jae-rim simply kept them, his assumption wavered when he noticed a label inside. The year on it matched when he’d used these items. His eyes trembled.
“What is this?”
Feeling his blood run cold, he stood before another box. His shaking hand opened the small lid. The contents matched that year’s belongings.
His wavering gaze landed on an unmarked white envelope. Peeling it open, he found hair inside.
Uncommon light brown hair. Jae-an knew instantly it was his, cut cleanly with scissors.
His face paled with disgust and fear. Knowing he should stop, his hand compulsively lifted an old file. Opening it, he saw his photos meticulously scrapbooked. He clamped his mouth shut.
Instant photos with Jae-rim or casual selfies were tame.
The problem was the others—photos he hadn’t taken. Walking with college friends late at night, dating an ex-girlfriend, eating convenience store food before tutoring, a blurry silhouette jogging along the Han River.
“Fuck…”
The file dropped. The box he’d bravely opened held no evidence of crimes, only obsessive records of Lee Jae-an.
Looking around, his face hollow, he saw over ten boxes stacked high.
*****
Jae-rim returned past 1 a.m.
Despite surely seeing Jae-an’s actions on the CCTV, his expression was as serene as ever. Instead, Jae-an’s unease became palpable. Placing a plastic bag on the home bar, Jae-rim looked at Jae-an on the sofa and said,
“I’m back.”
Dressed in workout clothes, hair slightly damp as if he’d exercised, Jae-rim soon changed and reappeared.
“Hungry? I stopped by the restaurant and grabbed steak. Can you eat meat?”
Glancing at Jae-an’s silence, he opened the bag, pulling out a red slab wrapped in plastic.
“You’re losing muscle. I’ll cut it small, so eat a little.”
Instead of answering, Jae-an rested his forehead on his raised knees, eyes closed. Soon, the harsh sizzle of meat cooking in oil filled the air.
“Done. Come.”
At Jae-rim’s call, Jae-an lifted his head and, as instructed, rose and walked to the table. His bare skin touched the smooth chair, a chill raising faint goosebumps.
Jae-rim’s place held a thick, well-cooked steak with garnish; Jae-an’s had watery soup and finely chopped meat in separate bowls.
Amid the greasy, heavy aroma, Jae-an reached for the water glass first. Jae-rim retrieved a wine bottle from the cellar, pouring and drinking alone.
Jae-an dipped a spoon into the soup but couldn’t bring it to his mouth, staring at Jae-rim.
“Seo Jae-rim.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you stalk me?”
His voice was wretched, even to himself. Jae-rim slowly swallowed his wine, setting the glass down. A silence heavy enough to hear a heartbeat settled.
After an eternity of minutes, Jae-rim nodded lightly.
“Yeah.”
The calm reply to such a shocking question twisted Jae-an’s insides. Clenching his jaw, he asked,
“Why?”
“I was curious about you.”
His voice was steady. Jae-rim leisurely picked up a steak knife, slicing the meat. Jae-an pressed on.
“Did you like me?”
“What’s liking?”
The counterquestion stunned Jae-an, his brow furrowing. His “like” wasn’t mere fondness. Struggling to explain, his lips parted and closed.
“Not just liking, I mean…”
“No.”
Cutting him off, Jae-rim, still relaxed, twirled the knife.
“Not rational, we’re both guys… Haa. I mean, romantic feelings—”
Jae-rim’s plain voice interrupted his stammering.
“I don’t know if it’s romantic feelings for you.”
“….”
“But you’re all I have.”
Only you. The vague, suffocating phrase froze Jae-an’s tongue. He forced it to move.
“It’s… hard to understand.”
“Strange. Nothing’s simpler.”
Shrugging, Jae-rim stopped twirling the knife and sliced the meat. Blood seeped with each cut. Spearing a piece, he ate, chewing slowly.
“Stop staring at my food. It’s a bit embarrassing.”
His playful tone amid this made bile rise. Frowning, Jae-an looked away, lifting his fork. About to eat the tiny meat piece, the image of blood from Jae-rim’s cuts killed his appetite.
“The stuff in the boxes is yours. Use it if you need.”
Jae-rim brought up the boxes first as Jae-an poked at his food. His heart thudded. Swallowing tension, he said,
“Nails, hair… photos that look secretly taken.”
“They’re Lee Jae-an’s.”
“….”
“That’s what I said.”
Jae-rim met his eyes, smiling faintly. Jae-an dropped his fork, covering his face with both hands, exhausted.
“Jae-rim, please stop…”
His voice, almost a scream, trembled with pleading.
“Can’t you stop these crazy things?”
“….”
“I’m so scared.”
Jae-rim, expressionless, stared, twirling the knife. His thoughts were unreadable.
Swallowing dryly, Jae-an leaned closer.
“I’m sorry for trying to die. I won’t do it again.”
“….”
“But you hurt me too. Let’s call it even.”
Jae-an placed his bandaged hand over Jae-rim’s on the table. Jae-rim kept toying with the knife.
“Can’t we go back to before?”
Jae-an’s brows drooped. His weak voice, barely his own, grew frantic, breaking.
“I don’t want you doing bad things, or to report you. I don’t want you caught, but I can’t pretend I don’t know your crimes. So, what I saw… what you did to me… let’s forget it all. And you stop that work, okay?”
Jae-rim gripped the knife upright.
“Call it even? Who the fuck are you to balance it?”
Cursing, he made Jae-an’s face pale, his hand slipping away. Jae-rim nodded at the bowl.
“Stop talking nonsense and eat.”
The futile attempt at dialogue ended, Jae-an’s shoulders sagging.
Unable to stomach the meat, he weakly lifted his spoon, forcing down a mouthful of soup. The hot, viscous liquid slid past his swollen throat, pain flaring sharply.
Wincing, he stirred vigorously to cool it.
Jae-rim, watching him pick at the soup and meat, sighed. At the sound, Jae-an saw his chilled expression. Reflexively, he explained his slow eating.
“…It’s too hot.”
Suddenly, Jae-rim stood.
Startled, Jae-an hurriedly scooped the steaming soup, swallowing it, mumbling,
“Just cooling it… I can eat.”
Choking on the unfinished sentence, he gulped frantically, but Jae-rim didn’t retract his hand.
Jae-an shut his eyes, hunching. The scarred hand didn’t touch his cowering, naked body, reaching for the soup bowl instead.
“Yeah, I’m not feeding you.”
“….”
“Or hitting you.”
Jae-rim walked to the counter with the bowl. Jae-an, relaxing his shoulders, stared blankly at his retreating profile. His brow furrowed, realizing he’d flinched like a coward.
Jae-rim glanced at Jae-an’s sullen face.
Those transparent brown eyes, beautiful when lit with joy, were strangely captivating when stained with shame or fear.
He’d thought Jae-an’s smile was prettiest, but those had been bait, masking raw emotions while he quietly planned to die.
Fooled twice by that perfect act, Jae-rim wouldn’t be again. He’d worked to peel off Jae-an’s thick mask, exposing the raw, fearful seed beneath.
Not the mature, composed Jae-an, but the anxious, terrified one was fresher, prettier than expected. Shamefully, he wanted to torment him more.
With a twisted smile, Jae-rim grabbed ice from the fridge, filling a glass bowl with icy water to cool the soup.
After a while, setting the lukewarm soup before Jae-an, he said,
“Going back to before is too late, hyung.”
“….”
“Should I… pretend?”
Jae-an looked up. His tense expression, masking primal fear, resembled a cat with raised fur. Without breaking eye contact, he fumbled for the spoon.
His clear gaze pleaded simply: I’ll eat, so don’t do anything weird to me.