SOFT BUN || markhyuck

34.

One week after my return as a servant who had committed sins-

rape and murder.

I disappeared.

[six months later]

Life teaches you a lot of lessons; physically, mentally.

Some in ways of rich and poor.

Others with hunger.

Money.

Health.

and freedom as a human being, generally.

Ever since my return to town, I have been thinking and thinking. Lost in the sea of thoughts. It's funny even, to think that we control ourselves yet it's not what actually happens. The feelings we have, noticing similar things, that's what controls us. The sight of someone eating forces us to eat. And now, after six whole months away from him, here I was still wondering about him. How he was? Where he was?

I took a matchbox, lighting it under the cigarette between my lips. I closed my eyelids, inhaling a great breath, feeling my lungs burn, turning into a tar most likely pushing me closer to death, yet it made me feel calmer. I huffed out a cloud of smoke, forcing the death upon the things surrounding me.

Six months.

I asked myself the question of- how would I explain myself to him?- each day.

He was in my every breath.

Every look in the mirror.

Every second glance I got, focusing on the scar on my face. It was the deed done to me, which I deserved.

What was I supposed to say to him, to ask for his forgiveness?

Forgive me, I was a thirsty dog at that time for money that I left you to suffer? Should I get on my knees? Or do I just stay silent, and let the kid enjoy the reward I stumbled upon on?

Kid.

I smiled slightly.

I missed calling him that.

But the truth was, I never ran away from there because of money, I was forced to do so. Katsu would've gotten his hands on him, if not for me leaving. There was no other choice.

The wood under my feet creaked as I climbed up the stairs to my room. It had been a while that I was here. In this house.

The surface of the wooden door under my fingers reminded me of how far I had come. I pushed it all the way, stepping inside the room. Furniture covered with white sheets. The dirt had made its home as I was gone.

How far can someone who served as a servant come? How can they do it in the first place?

Money.

Anything is possible with money.

The money he gave to get rid of me, I'll now use it against him. A poor, filthy dog, lusting for money that left that place, will use it all against that man. That guy, that disgusting filth walking on the surface of earth no one knows about. Yet their children- loved one is screaming in pain, in his bed. Because of his men. Because of him.

I wanted to skin that man alive.

Give each victim a chance to do it. Those who suffered because of him.

In this world, its always like that. Some leave, others take their place.

I slid my fingers on the table, feeling the dirt on the rough edges of my fingertip. Some things were missing, I wanted to have a word about it but at the moment, for the last time, I came to get what I thought was important.