the naked face || bts

four

The morning newspapers headlined the sensational torture murder of Sang Ara. Yoongi was tempted to have his telephone exchange call his patients and cancel his appointments for the day. He had not gone to bed, and his eyes felt heavy and gritty. But when he reviewed the list of patients, he decided that two of them would be desperate if he canceled; three of them would be badly upset; the others could be handled. He decided it was better to continue with his normal routine, partly for his patients' sake, and partly because it was good therapy for him to try to keep his mind off what had happened.

Yoongi arrived at his office early, but already the corridor was crowded with newspaper and television reporters and photographers. He refused to let them in or to make a statement, and finally managed to get rid of them. He opened the door to his inner office slowly, filled with trepidation. But the blood-stained rug had been removed and everything else had been put back in place. The office looked normal. Except that Ara would never walk in here again, smiling and full of life. Yoongi heard the outer door open. His first patient had arrived.

Yungseok was a distinguished-looking silver-haired man who looked like the prototype of a big business executive, which he was: a vice-president of the International Vendetta Corporation. When Yoongi had first seen Yungseok, he had wondered whether the executive had created his stereotyped image, or whether the image had created the executive. Some day he would write a book on face values; a doctor's bedside manner, a lawyer's flamboyance in a courtroom, an actress's face and figure- these were the universal currencies of acceptance: the surface image rather than the basic values.

Yungseok lay down on the couch, and Yoongi turned his attention to him. Yungseok had been sent to Yoongi by Dr. Kim Namjoon two months ago. It had taken Yoongi ten minutes to ascertain that Yungseok was a paranoiac with tendencies towards homicide. The morning headlines had been full of a murder that had taken place in this office the night before, but Yungseok never mentioned it. That was typical of his condition. He was totally immersed in himself. 'You didn't believe me before,' Yungseok said, 'but now I've got proof that they're after me.'

'I thought we had decided to keep an open mind about that, Yungseok,' Yoongi replied carefully. 'Remember yesterday we agreed that the imagination could play-'

'It isn't my imagination,' shouted Yungseok. He sat up, his fists clenched. They're trying to kill me!'

'Why don't you lie down and try to relax?' Yoongi suggested soothingly.

Yungseok got to his feet. 'Is that all you've got to say? You don't even want to hear my proof!' His eyes narrowed. "How do I know you're not one of them?'

'You know I'm not one of them,' Yoongi said. 'I'm your friend. I'm trying to help you.' He felt a stab of disappointment. The progress he had thought they were making over the past month had completely eroded away. He was looking now at the same terrified paranoiac who had first walked into his office two months ago.

Yungseok had started with International Vendetta as a mail boy. In twenty-five years his distinguished good looks and his affable personality had taken him almost to the top of the corporate ladder. He had been next in line for the presidency. Then, four years ago, his wife and three children had perished in a fire at their summer home in Southampton. Yungseok had been in the Bahamas with his mistress. He had taken the tragedy harder than anyone realized. Reared as a devout Catholic, he was unable to shake off his burden of guilt. He began to brood, and he saw less of his friends. He stayed home evenings, reliving the agonies of his wife and children burning to death while, in another part of his mind, he lay in bed with his mistress. It was like a motion picture that he ran over and over in his mind. He blamed himself completely for the death of his family. If only he had been there, he could have saved them. The thought became an obsession. He was a monster. He knew it and God knew it. Surely others could see it. They must hate him as he hated himself. People smiled at him and pretended sympathy, hut all the while they were waiting for him to expose himself, waiting to trap him. But he was too cunning for them. He stopped going to the executive dining-room and began to have lunch in the privacy of his office. He avoided everyone as much as possible.

Two years ago, when the company had needed a new president, they had passed over Yungseok and had hired an outsider. A year later the post of executive vice-president had opened up, and a man was given the job over Yungseok's head. Now he had all the proof he needed that there was a conspiracy against him. He began to spy on the people around him. At night he hid tape recorders in the offices of other executives. Six months ago he had been caught. It was only because of his long seniority and position that he was not fired. Trying to help him and relieve some of the pressure on him, the president of the company began to cut down on Yungseok's responsibilities. Instead of helping, it convinced Yungseok more than ever that they were out to get him. They were afraid of him because he was smarter than they were. If he became president, they would all lose their jobs because they were stupid fools.

He began to make more and more mistakes. When these errors were called to his attention, he indignantly denied having made them. Someone was deliberately changing his reports, altering the figures and statistics, trying to discredit him. Soon he realized that it was not only the people in the company who were after him. There were spies outside. He was constantly followed in the streets. They tapped his telephone line, read his mail. He was afraid to eat, in case they poison his food. His weight began to drop alarmingly. The worried president of the company arranged an appointment for him with Dr. Kim Namjoon and insisted that Yungseok keep it. After spending half an hour with him, Dr. Namjoon had phoned Yoongi. Yoongi's appointment book was full, but when Namjoon had told him how urgent it was, Yoongi reluctantly agreed to take him on. Now Yungseok lay supine on the damask-covered contour couch, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

'Tell me about your proof.'

'They broke into my house last night. They came to kill me. But I was too clever for them. I sleep in my den now and I have extra locks on all the doors so they can't get to me.'

'Did you report the break-in to the police?' Yoongi asked.

'Of course not! The police are in it with them. They have orders to shoot me. But they wouldn't dare do it while there are people around, so I stay in crowds.'

'I'm glad you gave me this information,' Yoongi said.

'What are you going to do with it?' Yungseok asked eagerly.

'I'm listening very carefully to everything you say,' Yoongi said. He indicated the tape recorder. I've got it all down on tape so if they do kill you, we'll have a record of the conspiracy.'

Yungseok's face lit up. 'By God, that's good! Tape! That'll really fix them!'

'Why don't you lie down again?' Yoongi suggested.

Yungseok nodded and slid onto the couch. He closed his eyes. 'I'm tired. I haven't slept in months. I don't dare close my eyes. You don't know what it's like, having everybody after you.'

Don't I? He thought of Jungkook. 'Didn't your houseboy hear anyone break in?' Yoongi asked.

'Didn't I tell you?' Yungseok replied. 'I fired him two weeks ago.'

Yoongi quickly went over in his mind his recent sessions with Yungseok. Only three days ago Yungseok had described a fight he had had that day with his houseboy. So his sense of time had become disoriented. 'I don't believe you mentioned it,' Yoongi said casually. 'Are you sure it was two weeks ago that you let him go?'

'I don't make mistakes,' snapped Yungseok. 'How the hell do you think I got to be vice-president of one of the biggest corporations in the world? Because I've got a brilliant mind, Doctor, and don't forget it.' 

'Why did you fire him?'

'He tried to poison me.'

'How?'

'With a plate of ham and eggs. Loaded with arsenic.'

'Did you taste it?' Yoongi asked.

'Of course not,' Yungseok snorted.

'How did you know it was poisoned?'

'I could smell the poison.'

'What did you say to him?'

A look of satisfaction came over Yungseok's face. 'I didn't say anything. I beat the shit out of him.'
  A feeling of frustration swept over Yoongi. Given time, he was sure he could have helped Yungseok. But time had run out. There was always the danger in psychoanalysis that under the venting of free-flow association, the thin veneer could blow wide open, letting escape all the primitive passions and emotions that huddled together in the mind like terrified wild beasts in the night. Free verbalizing was the first step in treatment. In Yungseok's case, it had boomeranged. These sessions had released all the latent hostilities that had been locked in his mind. Yungseok had seemed to improve with each session, agreeing with Yoongi that there was no conspiracy, that he was only overworked and emotionally exhausted. Yoongi had felt that he was guiding Yungseok to a point where they could begin deep analysis and start to attack the root of the problem. But Yungseok had been cunningly lying all along.

He had been testing Yoongi, leading him on to try to trap him and find out whether he was one of them. Yungseok was a walking time bomb that could explode at any second. There was no next of kin to notify. Should Yoongi call the president of the company and tell him what he felt? If he did, it would instantly destroy Yungseok's future. He would have to be put away in an institution. Was he right in his diagnosis that Yungseok was a potentially homicidal paranoiac? He would like to get another opinion before he called, but Yungseok would never consent. Yoongi knew he would have to make the decision alone.

'Yungseok, I want you to make me a promise,' Yoongi said.
'What kind of promise?', Yungseok asked warily.

'If they are trying to trick you, then they want you to do something violent so they can have you locked up... but you're too smart for that. No matter how they provoke you, I want you to promise me that you won't do anything to them. That way, they can't touch you.'

Yungseok's eyes lit up. 'By God, you're right,' he said. 'So that's their plan! Well, we're too clever for them, aren't we?'

Outside, Yoongi heard the sound of the reception room door open and close. He looked at his watch. His next patient was here. Yoongi quietly snapped off the tape recorder. 'I think that's enough for today,' he said.

'You got all this down on the tape recorder?' Yungseok asked eagerly.

'Every word,' Yoongi said. 'No one's going to hurt you.' He hesitated. 'I don't think you should go to the office today. Why don't you go home and get some rest?'

'I can't,' Yungseok whispered, his voice filled with despair. 'If I'm not in my office, they'll take my name off the door and put someone else's name on it.' He leaned towards Yoongi. 'Be careful. If they know you're my friend, they'll try to get you, too.' Yungseok walked over to the door leading to the corridor. He opened it a crack and peered up and down the corridor. Then he swiftly sidled out. Yoongi looked after him, his mind filled with the pain of what he would have to do to Yungseok's life. Perhaps if Yungseok had come to him six months earlier...

And then a sudden thought sent a chill through him. Was Yungseok already a murderer? Was it possible that he had been involved in the deaths of Kim Taehyung and Sang Ara?

Both Yungseok and Taehyung were patients. And they could have easily met. Several times in the past few months Yungseok's appointments had followed Taehyung's. And Yungseok had been late more than once. He could have run into Taehyung in the corridor. And seeing him several rimes could easily have triggered his paranoia, made him feel that Taehyung was following him, threatening him. As for Ara, Yungseok had seen her every time he came to the office. Had his sick mind conceived some menace from her that could only be removed by her death? How long had Yungseok really been mentally ill? His wife and three children had died in an accidental fire. Accidental? Somehow, he had to find out.

He went to the door leading to the reception office and opened it. 'Come in,' he said.

Jung Hoseok rose gracefully to his feet and moved towards him, a warm smile lighting his face. Yoongi felt again the same heart-turning feeling that had hit him when he had first seen him. It was the first time that he had felt any deep emotional response towards any person.

Jung Hoseok had flaming red hair- and unbelievably beautiful crescent eyes, framed by long, dark lashes. He was tall, and God knew he had a fantastic figure. He had an air of lively intelligence and twinkling, clever eyes that would have made him seem inaccessible, except for the warmth in them. His voice was low and soft, with a faint, husky quality. Hoseok was in his middle twenties. He was, without question, the most handsome man Yoongi had ever seen. But it was something beyond his looks that caught at Yoongi. There was an almost palpable force that pulled him to him, some unexplainable reaction that made him feel as though he had known him forever. Feelings that he had thought long since dead had suddenly surfaced again, surprising him by their intensity.

He had appeared in Yoongi's office three weeks earlier, without an appointment. Ara had explained that his schedule was full and he could not possibly take on any new patients. But Hoseok had quietly asked if she could wait. He had sat in the outer office for two hours, and Ara had finally taken pity on him and brought him in to Yoongi. He had felt such an instant powerful emotional reaction to Hoseok that he had no idea what he said during the first few minutes. He remembered he had asked him to sit down and he had told him his name, Jung Hoseok. He didn't work. Yoongi had asked him what his problem was. He had hesitated and said that he was not certain. He was not even sure he had a problem. A doctor friend of his had mentioned that Yoongi was one of the most brilliant analysts in the country, but when Yoongi had asked who the doctor was, Hoseok had demurred. For all Yoongi knew, he could have got his name out of a telephone directory.

He had tried to explain to him how impossible his schedule was, that he simply was unable to take on any new patients. He offered to recommend half a dozen good analysts. But Hoseok had quietly insisted that he wanted him to treat him. In the end, Yoongi had agreed. Outwardly, except for the fact that he appeared to be under some stress, he seemed perfectly normal, and he was certain that his problem would be a relatively simple one, easily solved. He broke his rule about not taking any patient without another doctor's recommendation, and he gave up his lunch hour in order to treat Hoseok.

He had appeared twice a week for the past three weeks, and Yoongi knew very little more about him than he had known when he first came in. But he did know something more about himself. He was in love.

At their first session, Yoongi had asked him if he loved his wife, and hated himself for wanting to hear him say that he did not. But he had said, 'Yes. She's a kind, beautiful woman.'

'Do you think she represents a mother figure?' Yoongi had asked.

Hoseok had turned his incredible golden brown eyes on him. 'No. I wasn't looking for any sort of figure. I had a very happy home life as a child.'

'Where were you born?'

'Gwangju.'

'Are both your parents still alive?'

'Father is alive. Mother died of a stroke when I was twelve.'

'Did your father and mother have a good relationship?'

'Yes. They were very much in love.'

It shows in you, thought Yoongi happily. With all the sickness and aberration and misery that he had seen, having Hoseok here was like a breath of April freshness. 'Any brothers or sisters?'

'No. I was an only child. A spoiled brat.' He smiled up at him. It was an open, friendly smile without guile or affectation. He told him that he had lived abroad with his father, who was serving in the State Department, and when he had remarried and moved to California, he had gone to work at the UN as an interpreter. He spoke fluent Korean, Japanese and English. He had met his future wife in the Bahamas when he was on vacation. She owned a construction firm. Hoseok had not been attracted to her at first, but she had been a persistent and persuasive suitor. Two months after they met, Hoseok had married her. He had now been married for six months. They lived on an estate uptown. And that was all Yoongi had been able to find out about him in half a dozen visits.

He still had not the slightest clue as to what his problem was. He had an emotional block about discussing it. He remembered some of the questions he had asked him during their first session.

'Does your problem involve your wife, Hoseok?'

No answer.

'Are you and your wife compatible, physically?'

'Yes.' Embarrassed.

'Do you suspect her of having an affair with another man?'

'No.' Amused.

'Are you having an affair with another woman?'

'No.' Angry.

He hesitated, trying to figure out the best approach to take to break down the barrier. He decided on a buckshot technique: he would touch on every major category until he struck a nerve.

'Do you quarrel about money?'

'No. She's very generous.'

'Any in-law problems?'

'She's an orphan. My father lives in California.'

'Were you or your wife ever addicted to drugs?'

'No.'

'Do you suspect your wife of being lesbian?'

Yoongi caught him hesitating for just a split second. Then he let out a low warm laugh. 'No.'

He pressed on, because he had to. 

'Have you ever had a sexual relationship with a man?'

'No.' He muttered something more under his breath.

'What was that?'

'Oh, nothing.'

Yoongi sighed. He had touched on alcoholism, frigidity, a child he didn't want - everything he could think of. And each time he had looked at him with his thoughtful, intelligent eyes and had merely shaken his head. Whenever he tried to pin him down, he would head him off with, 'Please be patient with me. Let me do it my own way.' With anyone else, he might have given up. But he knew that he had to help him. And he had to keep seeing him.

He had let him talk about any subject he chose. He had traveled to a dozen countries with his father and had met fascinating people. He had a quick mind and an unexpected humor. He found that they liked the same books, the same music, the same playwrights. He was warm and friendly, but Yoongi could never detect the slightest sign that he reacted to him as anything other than a doctor. It was bitter irony. He had been subconsciously searching for someone like Hoseok for years, and now that he had walked into his life, his job was to help him solve whatever his problem was and send him back to his wife.

Now, as Hoseok walked into the office, Yoongi moved to the chair next to the couch and waited for him to lie down. 'Not today,' he said quietly. 'I just came to see if I could help.'

He stared at him, speechless for a moment. His emotions had been stretched so tight in the past two days that his unexpected sympathy unnerved him. As he looked at him, he had a wild impulse to pour out everything that was happening to him. To tell him about the nightmare that was engulfing him, about Jungkook and his idiotic suspicions. But he knew he could not. He was the doctor and he was his patient. Worse than that. He was in love with Hoseok, and he was the untouchable husband of a woman he did not even know.

He was standing there, watching him. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

'I liked Ara so much,' said Hoseok. 'Why would anyone kill her?'

'I don't know,' said Yoongi.

'Don't the police have any idea who did it?'

Do they? Yoongi thought bitterly. If he only knew. Hoseok was looking at him curiously. 'The police have some theories,' Yoongi said.

'I know how terrible you must feel. I just wanted to come and tell you how very sorry I am. I wasn't even sure you'd be in the office today.'

'I wasn't going to come in,' Yoongi said. 'But- well, here I am. As long as we're both here, why don't we talk a little about you?'

Hoseok hesitated. 'I'm not sure that there's anything to talk about anymore.'

Yoongi felt his heart jump. Please, God, don't let him say that I'm not going to see him anymore. 'I'm going to Europe with my wife next week.'

'That's wonderful,' he made himself say.

'I'm afraid I've wasted your time, Dr. Min, and I apologize.'

'Please don't,' Yoongi said. He found that his voice was husky. He was walking out on him. But of course he couldn't know that. He was being infantile. His mind told him this clinically while his stomach ached with the physical hurt of him going away. Forever. He opened his wallet and took out some money. He was in the habit of paying in cash after each visit, unlike his other patients, who sent him cheques. 'No,' said Yoongi quickly. "You came here as a friend. I'm- grateful.'Yoongi did something he had never done before with a patient. 'I would like you to come back once more,' he said.

Hoseok looked up at him quietly. 'Why?'

Because I can't bear to let you go so soon, he thought. Because I'll never meet anyone like you again. Because I wish I had met you first. Because I love you.

Aloud he said, 'I thought we might- round things out. Talk a little to make sure that you really are over your problem.'

He smiled mischievously. 'You mean you want me to come back for my graduation?'

'Something like that,' he said. "Will you do it?'

'If you want me to- of course.' He rose. 'I haven't given you a chance with me. But I know you're a wonderful doctor. If I should ever need help, I'd come to you.' He held out his hand and he took it. He had a warm, firm handclasp. He felt again that compelling current that ran between them and marveled that he felt nothing. 'I'll see you Friday,' he said.

'Friday.'

He watched Hoseok walk out the private door leading to the corridor, then sank into a chair. He had never felt so completely alone in his life. But he couldn't sit here and do nothing. There had to be an answer, and if Jungkook wasn't going to find it, he had to discover it before Jungkook destroyed him. On the dark side, Lieutenant Jungkook suspected him of two murders that he couldn't prove he did not commit. He might be arrested at any moment, which would mean that his professional life would be destroyed. He was in love with a married man he would only see once more. He forced himself to turn to the bright side. He couldn't think of a single bloody thing.