Mr and Mrs Sim ⋆ s.jake

Chapter 30

Riki's POV

Fuck, it felt good to be alive.

In a world where my sister slit her wrists to escape the hell she had dragged me into three years earlier, I was reborn. A chapter of my life ended the moment I choked to death in Jaeyun's car. My only regret? Not tearing out the page and torching the whole damn book. All those serial crimes to meet expectations, and fulfill this gnawing void I couldn't put into words—like my vocabulary was stuck back when Riki still believed the world was fair. Seven years earlier.

Compared to Kim, that motherfucker, I didn't steal lives. I took them when I wanted—slowly, brutally, carelessly—and ended them like they were nothing more than failed social experiments. Taking isn't stealing; stealing eats at you, festers into a deep, suffocating resentment, one that grows day by day, like a kid watching their whole life get screwed over before it even starts.

You stay alive, sure, but what's the point of living if your life isn't even your own?

I shook my head, trying to push away those philosophical thoughts I came up with when I was knocked out after the transplant, high on morphine. Philosophy sucks.

"Nishimura Riki, I should be glad you're using my lung to breathe in the filthy air of this hospital park." I opened my eyes, my hand shielding them from the sharp light. My vision wavered for a few seconds, and then Jaeyun came into focus, towering over me to my left. His presence was familiar, cold as ever, and proud, as if he'd just pledged allegiance to a crowd of devoted fans.

"So now you're keeping track of the air pollution index?" I snickered. "You're stupid, Sim. I'm loving the smell of flowers here." I closed my legs, which had been casually spread, and patted the black surface of the bench under my ass, inviting Jaeyun to sit down. He did so without hesitation.

"Dude, we drove her crazy. I saw it with my own eyes; it's freaky." I went on, not giving him a chance to justify his sudden visit.

He chuckled. "We? No, it's me. Only me."

I rolled my eyes, squinting at the cigarette between his fingers, held out to me. I shoved his arm away, and the cig ended up stuck at the edge of his lips, waiting to be lit. "That's not glorious, letting your fucking wife lose her mind. And if you think it's going to make your double decimeter any bigger, you're dead wrong." He hummed absently. "I'll chop it off myself," I said, voice cold.

His eyes shot wide open at my threat.

"Oh, you're playing l'avocat de la diablesse. Ironic, coming from someone with your level of vice." Jaeyun lit his cigarette and handed me the lighter. I took it, kind of thrown off, and started toying with the flint wheel. "You know..." he exhaled his first puff of smoke, the smell hitting me before I coughed. "Rose won't lose her mind. She's the most lucid and sensible woman I know—that's why I married her in the first place. It's the way she keeps her composure, a goddamn turn-on, trust me."

I coughed again. My young lung hated the toxic scent, and I couldn't agree more. Jaeyun pinched the back of my neck, spitting smoke directly into my face. I cursed under my breath, teeth clenched.

"Fuck off, whore!" I whimpered, glaring at him.

He laughed, smoke curling around his grin as he took another drag. "That lung belongs to me, Riki. I paid for it, didn't I? So, if I want it back, l've got every right to cut you in half and rip it out."

My fist tightened out of frustration, veins straining against my forearms. The gun in my leather jacket pocket pressed against my leg, like it was daring me to pull it and aim at Jaeyun. For a second, I weighed the pros and cons in my head—then I remembered the debt: a lung for my life, my sacrifice for his.