TTDOTO 1.4

「Cauchemar」

Jae-an parked under a familiar sign, and the valet, recognizing the car, greeted him first. Smiling brightly, Jae-an handed over the keys with a polite nod. Inside the restaurant, a staff member greeted him warmly, noting it had been a while, and Jae-an followed her slow steps.

“The boss is inside.”

“Thanks.”

He grasped the handle of the private room’s door. Stepping in, he saw Seo Jae-rim, mid-sip of water, turn his head.

“Hyung.”

A smile bloomed across a face that, without it, looked as cold as carved ice. His jet-black hair and thick, dark lashes framed golden eyes so bright they felt almost jarring, yet they blended seamlessly with his striking, delicate features. Jae-an smiled back.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

“Not by much.”

“Really?” Jae-an sat, gulping lukewarm water, feeling it slide down his parched throat.

Soon, a knock preceded the arrival of food. Risotto, pasta, and medium-rare sirloin steak burst with savory flavor.

As they focused on eating, their sparse conversation faded, replaced by the prolonged clinking of cutlery. Jae-rim broke the silence first.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hm?”

Jae-an, slicing his steak, looked up. Jae-rim raised an eyebrow, placing a piece of meat he’d cut onto Jae-an’s plate. Jae-an’s knife had been more rubbing than cutting, so Jae-rim took over.

“You’re out of it today.”

“I was thinking how good this tastes.”

Despite the awkward smile and stilted reply, Jae-rim nodded calmly.

Jae-rim was always steady. Even as a kid, he’d been quiet, gentle, the picture-perfect younger brother.

But beneath that soft demeanor, he was sharp. Having lost his parents young and grown up under relatives’ roofs, he’d learned to read people early. His comment about Jae-an being “out of it” carried weight.

Truthfully, Jae-an was struggling to stay composed. That day, he’d cleared out the last of his belongings, converted all his savings to cash, and left it on his desk. Before heading to the restaurant, he’d scrawled a note on a Post-it and placed it beside the money.

Please use this for the funeral and cleaning expenses.

Too brief to call a will, writing those final words stirred more emotion than he’d expected. Knowing this drive to Jae-rim’s restaurant, this moment facing him, was his last made his heart sag like waterlogged cotton. That’s why he’d been sparing with words, but Jae-rim caught the unease and pressed.

“It really tastes better today.”

Muttering again about the flavor, Jae-an chewed the meat Jae-rim had cut, swallowing deliberately. He wasn’t in a state to eat much, but he forced down the steak and scooped risotto, not wanting to waste what he thought was Jae-rim’s last meal for him.

Watching Jae-an eat more than usual, Jae-rim propped his chin and smiled. He cleared the empty plates himself, returning with two warm Americanos and a box of cookies. Knowing Jae-an’s tastes, he handed over a round cookie, saying it was one he’d like. The almond scent spread with each bite. Jae-an devoured three in a row.

“You’ve got some on you.”

“Hm?”

“Here.”

With a scrape of his chair, Jae-rim leaned forward, reaching out. Jae-an, used to his touch, calmly tilted his face. Jae-rim’s gaze lingered on his full lips long after brushing off the crumbs.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?”

“Just resting.”

“Come to my place? There’s a movie I wanna watch together.”

Normally, even if it felt like a hassle, Jae-an would’ve nodded. But he gave a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. I just wanna rest alone tomorrow.”

Used to rejection, Jae-rim only hummed and nodded. Jae-an, cradling the warm coffee mug, stared at the faint ripples inside. Only then did he notice his hands trembling.

“I should go.”

“Yeah, you look tired.”

Jae-an didn’t reply, standing first. As always, Jae-rim followed him out, watching until he got into his car.

Through warm spring days, scorching summer asphalt, crackling autumn leaves, and snowy winter flurries, Jae-rim had always stood in the same spot to see him off.

About to drive away, Jae-an lowered the window and looked at Jae-rim. Hands in his pockets, Jae-rim tilted his head, as if asking what else he had to say. Jae-an’s lips moved briefly before he spoke softly.

“Watch out for colds this season. They’re going around.”

“Got it. See you, hyung.”

At “see you,” Jae-an stared a moment, then smiled a beat late, nodding.

“Yeah. See you.”

His nose stung, so he looked away, forcing a smile. Raising the window, he turned his head and hit the gas. Only after pulling away did he glance at the side mirror. The spot where Jae-rim stood was empty, and his gaze lingered there, gloomier than usual.

Back home, Jae-an lay on the bare floor, using his clothes as a pillow, and slept. Whether it was the hard floor or his heavy heart, he woke at dawn. Sitting on the floor, waiting for sunrise, he grabbed his car keys once light crept in.

He drove aimlessly until he reached an empty lot rarely visited. No navigation—just choosing the least-traveled paths at every fork, trusting they’d lead to his destination.

He’d left at sunrise, but it was dark when he arrived. The meal with Jae-rim still sat heavy in his stomach; he wasn’t hungry. He downed a bottle of soju from a convenience store and smoked a cigarette. Just drinking and smoking felt as filling as a bowl of warm rice.

Leaning back in the car seat, pushed by the buzz, Jae-an pulled out a pre-ordered item and set it on the passenger floor. As smoke slithered like a snake from the passenger side, he closed his eyes weakly.

He drank to dull the fear. He didn’t want to feel the process of dying. Even choosing death, he refused to face it fully—a coward to the end. But he couldn’t help it. He was terrified of dying. Yet living on scared him more.

The car filled with acrid smoke, a burning stench searing his lungs. Coughing painfully, Jae-an soon could only gasp broken moans.

Just before losing consciousness, a final regret clung to him.

‘Got it. See you, hyung.’

Jae-rim’s radiant smile had been painfully serene. He’d thought of his mother when deciding to die, but in his final moment, it was Jae-rim.

Life was like that. Death erases you. The last thing lingering was the bond he’d forged, despite no blood tying them. He hoped Jae-rim would forget him quickly. Live well.

“Jae… ah…”

His final words, squeezed from fading consciousness, crumbled on his tongue, unfinished. He couldn’t hold on. Swept by waves, he sank into a deep sleep.

*****

‘Am I dead?’

He asked himself but couldn’t answer. He’d dreamed of suicide enough to grow sick of it, so now he couldn’t tell if this was a dream or reality. One hope: this time, he’d tried.

‘So, am I really dead?’

As he asked again, a sharp voice pierced his ears.

“No.”

His brow furrowed, and his tightly shut eyelids twitched open. A voice, not his own, rasped from his parched throat.

“…What?”

“It’s Jae-rim.”

He knew it was Jae-rim. That wasn’t the question. He’d asked because hearing Jae-rim’s voice now made no sense. Jae-rim, ignoring him, picked up his phone and made a call.

“Hyung’s awake.”

Jae-an, realizing he hadn’t died, closed his eyes, exhausted. His vision was blurry—keeping them open showed nothing anyway.

“This’ll sting.”

A stranger’s voice accompanied the prick of a needle in his thin arm. Still dazed, he felt no pain.

“Coming around?”

Not Jae-rim’s voice. Jae-an forced his eyes open. The man, taking it as a response, gave a faint smile.

“Seems you can hear me. Good.”

Jae-an didn’t know him, but his face was strikingly handsome. Did Jae-rim have other close friends besides him?

Shorter and slimmer than Jae-rim, the man had a sharp nose, pale skin, and long hair flowing past his neck, standing out even in Jae-an’s hazy vision. But his profile, as he packed away the syringe, looked weary.

He adjusted an IV drip with practiced hands, then spoke to Jae-rim. Jae-an strained but couldn’t make out their words. After a brief farewell, the stranger left, and Jae-rim’s footsteps grew closer.

Listening to the shuffle of slippers, Jae-an stared at the ceiling. A small sigh escaped. He’d just realized this was Jae-rim’s room. Still detached from reality, he gazed at the familiar space as if it were foreign.

The warm-toned wooden ceiling, beige shelves, and off-white walls aimed for coziness, but with only sparse decor, it felt more like a sterile model home.

“Hyung.”

Lost in staring, Jae-an heard Jae-rim call from the chair beside him. He didn’t turn.

“Hyung.”

Jae-rim called again. Knowing he’d keep going, Jae-an parted his dry lips with effort.

“Yeah.”

“You almost died.”

His flat voice made Jae-an close his mouth. Was surviving a relief or a curse? Whatever he said would hurt Jae-rim, so he stayed silent.

“Did you try to die?”

“….”

“Leaving me behind?”

His voice, sharp as a honed blade, cut deep. Jae-an’s chest ached. Moving his lips, he answered softly.

“…Yeah.”

“Why?”

“….”

“Because of Jang Han-seong?”

Jae-an shook his head quickly. No, it wasn’t just that. Jae-rim brushed back his bangs slowly.

“I was happy with you, hyung. Were you that unhappy?”

The innocent question tugged a faint smile from Jae-an. A sigh slipped out as he answered quietly.

“…Not exactly.”

If he were honest, he wasn’t unhappy. He had a decent apartment, a reliable car, and a respectable job. He had college friends to drink with occasionally. The only difference from others was his lack of family, but Jae-rim was close enough to count, so his life wasn’t truly unhappy.

Yet he’d chosen death, like his resentful mother. Tracing the reason, he answered, his smile lingering.

“It just… wasn’t fun.”

“Fun?”

Jae-rim let out a hollow laugh, his amber eyes flashing with icy anger, a look Jae-an had never seen in their eighteen years together.

He hadn’t meant to provoke, but Jae-an lacked the energy to soothe him. This was a rotten, stagnant feeling only those who’d felt it could understand.

“If I were unhappy, I’d have cried.”

“….”

“That’s how it works.”

“….”

“People cry when they’re unhappy. When it’s not fun, they die.”

His calm words sank the air into heavy silence. Jae-rim, legs crossed, tapped his foot rhythmically, lost in thought. Then, with a light sigh, he spoke.

“No, people don’t die easily.”

“….”

“They’re like bugs, clawing to survive no matter what.”

His golden eyes scanned Jae-an’s face, from bottom to top.

“But you almost did. Because it… Wasn’t fun?”

Frowning, Jae-rim spat the words low and stood, kicking the chair back. Looking down at Jae-an, he curved his lips into a pretty smile.

“Got it.”

“….”

“I’ll make sure you’re never bored again, hyung. Look forward to it.”

Despite the bright smile, his words chilled. With that, Jae-rim left the room.

Jae-an stared at his broad back, then slowly lowered his eyes. He’d never seen Jae-rim so fiercely angry. The unfamiliarity hurt.

He hadn’t even died, yet he’d wounded him anyway. A bitter shadow spread across Jae-an’s face.