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cw: nsfw

I couldn't remember how I got to the goshiwon. No, it wasn't a goshiwon. Why was I at the madman's house? I only realized it when I came to my senses. And I vaguely remembered that he had forced me into his car and brought me here. Leaving one last command:

'Wait.'

'Wait', huh… I stood up from my seat, looking at my watch. 1:30 in the morning. The subway was unavailable, shall I walk? I got up from the sofa where I had fallen asleep for a while and walked to the door. Out of habit, I checked my phone, and there was one missed call and one text message. The caller is 'Madman'. Without looking at the text, I put it in my back pocket and went out.

The cold air of the night felt suffocating. I took a deep breath, puffing out my chest, and started walking. When I first started working, there were times when I couldn't fall asleep even though my body was tired. At that time, thinking itself was so painful that I just walked outside.

Nothing reminded me that I was alive more than thinking. Being alive was a luxury to me, so walking was the best way to get rid of thoughts. Just moving, eating, and sleeping like an animal, and maybe that was the most I could enjoy.

But maybe the madman was right. Was I trying to atone by paying the price with physical pain? Maybe I thought I should barely, barely exist. The truth was, I want to live. And I was using my revenge on Myungshin as an excuse..

Something hot swelled in the center of his chest, choking me. It was so painful that it was difficult to walk, and I sat down on the spot. As I closed my eyes and lowered my head, an unknown darkness pressed down on me.

***

My face was a mess, but thankfully today was not the actual shoot. According to the manager, PD Jung saw me reading the script and said he was going to go over it again to find things to fix. I might have wondered why he was saving my shoot for last and revising the script until the last minute, but I couldn't think much about that on the way to the studio.

All I could do was force myself to breathe, move my feet, and repeat to myself what I had to do today. If I lost my concentration and missed this, the events of last night would rush back to haunt me like a monster. I hate myself for putting off difficult problems like a child, but the fear wouldn't go away.

When I recalled his words and looked at myself as a hypocrite, I felt like I would choke again. So it was fortunate that I had work to do now. Without it, I might have been curled up like a fool in a small goshiwon room. Even though it's painful to pretend to be normal right now.

"Just read it through once. Just read it as if you were reading a Korean language book, okay?"

After instructing, PD Jung placed a small camera in front of me. I glanced down at the script he gave me and skimmed through the first part. At first, it was the same as what I had memorized before, there were no changes. As if sensing my thoughts, he explained.

"What I added is the last part. I took other people's opinions as well, but I also wanted to change it after seeing Taemin's acting the other day. But this is… Actually, I couldn't figure out exactly how to write it, so I think I'll get a feel for it when I see you read it yourself."

Then he added with a small smile.

"Because Taemin is a real person in my head."

When I was given the green light to begin, I turned back to the camera and began mouthing the lines. The faceless voice of the protagonist asks me a question.

'What are you living for?'

The protagonist interviewed several people on this subject. Among those interviews, there was also an actor who froze when he sees the camera, which was Hansoo's role, and me, a friend from his hometown. I answered, "I have no purpose in living". Then he asked, "Aren't you living now?" and asked if I haven't found my purpose yet.

In the script, I talk about my daily routine as if thinking deeply about his words. daily routine. From Monday to Friday, I get up at 6:30 every morning, get ready for work, go to the company, do my assigned work there, eat lunch at the cafeteria, and then go back to work. After coming home and cleaning, I have dinner alone in an empty house. A series of always doing the same thing.

"I live only because I am alive. I have no purpose or meaning in life."

This was the line I memorized, and that's the end of the interview. A person who had no meaning in life. However, as PD Jung said, there were new additional lines at the end. As if reading a Korean language book, my lips formed words that I hadn't seen before.

"I don't understand other people's joy. I see and experience the same things, but I can't relate to why they laugh and are happy. So sometimes I have my doubts; do I really have to live on just because I'm still breathing? Should I just live for the sake of living? Could the simple fact that I am still alive be the reason for my life that I find meaningless? Well, I don't know. If living without feeling anything is painful, then this pain is the price of living. Isn't that so cruel? I think life only needs a reason for those who want it. No matter how painful the reality is to the point of death, if you are a person who finds laughter, is grateful, and feels a little bit of love around you… That person… deserves to find… a reason to live. Someone who has such a heart…"

"…"

"…"

"Taemin? Is something wrong?"

PD Jung called my name a few more times, but I couldn't raise my head. In the end, my gaze remained fixed on the last sentence I couldn't read.

'Someone who has such a heart should live.'

***

I didn't know about it that previous night. Even though I sat alone for a long time in the street, hurt, I didn't know what the hurt was that crushed my chest and stole my breath. The answer came only when I left the studio and blankly checked my phone. A text message from the madman I hadn't seen yesterday appeared on the small lit screen.

— Come to me. I'll make you cry.

It was only then I realized what that lump of hot pain that lodged in my throat was. Oh, right. These are the tears I couldn't shed on my own, the ones I've told myself I couldn't shed. The sobs were choking me, threatening to suffocate me. I walked on, holding it in, unable to release it.

However, after taking a few steps, I stopped and sat down on a bench by the side of the road. It was only when I felt a vibration in my hand that I realized I had been still for quite some time. I opened my closed eyes and slowly answered the phone. Through the cold machine, I heard his voice say, "Where are you?" and I answered in a small, parched voice,

"Make me cry."

***

Two men entering a hotel in broad daylight. It was something I wouldn't normally do because I was concerned about my surroundings. However, I did not remember being dragged into the hotel by the man who came running 20 minutes after hanging up the phone. I must have been pulled by the arm and taken in like a doll through the lobby, up the elevator, and down the hallway, but it's as if that part of the story was cut off.

Just like memories that had disappeared, there were also memories that became blurry. A scene where everything was hazy. I just surrendered to the other's movements and clung to him as if it were the only string I could hold on to. I couldn't bear to get away from him even when he roughly tore my clothes off, showered me with kisses, and led me to the bed.

I held his firm arm tightly and did not let go. He continued kissing me as if to soothe me, and reached between my legs. The cold gel was applied to my backside, and a finger and then two pushed into me, my body stiffening with the uncomfortable feeling of being penetrated by a foreign body.

It must have been an uncomfortable position, but he didn't stop kissing me. The kiss was slow and gentle, in sharp contrast to his fingers below. After widening the entrance with his fingers, a hot pillar like fire drove into me, which I hadn't adapted to yet. I gnashed my teeth to keep myself from screaming in pain.

He showed no mercy except to pause and let me breathe. From the beginning, the dick that mercilessly drove into me caused my entire body to shak.. He was holding me down as I was being pushed up on the bed, perhaps it was an instinctive movement to escape from the pain.

Sex that was more like punishment than making love. When the act, which only caused pain, was over, I knew with my panting breath that I was crying uncontrollably. He entered my misty vision that was blurred with tears and looked down. He still hadn't removed his genitals from inside me, and he quietly stroked my hair, then lowered his head and kissed me again.

And the second time was like a kiss. Real sex, slow, gentle, with my erect cock ejaculating several times. And when everything was over and I could barely keep from closing my eyes and passing out, I vaguely remembered something. When something cold touched my cheeks and I opened my eyes, the memory became clearer.

As I woke up, he put a bottle of cold water to my lips. I swallowed the water in my mouth and rested my head on his pillow. And I looked up at him, now clearly visible. Sitting next to me, he was drinking the rest of the water. Gulp, gulp, looking at the movement of the throat through which the water was flowing, and I asked,

"… It was you?"

The guy from 5 years ago.