Price of Silence

From the H&W Gallery on 69th Street to Liu's apartment, which faced the southeastern edge of Central Park, the distance was usually a short five-minute drive or a ten-minute walk. But on the last day of the year, things were different. Not only were the roads leading toward Midtown — where the Ball Drop event was in full swing — completely jammed, the entire Manhattan road network had turned into one enormous parking lot.

But Liu had no reason to rush. With his arms crossed, he sank deep into the seat and gazed out the car window at the excited, flushed faces of the people passing by. New York's average winter temperature was higher than Seoul's, but the cold here had a strange way of making one feel more chilled than the actual temperature warranted.

A light drizzle was falling on the streets. The driver had the radio on at low volume, and a reporter's voice was excitedly announcing that two million people had gathered for the Ball Drop.

Imagining Times Square packed with two million people gave him the start of a tension headache. But it wasn't the crowd that caused it. He could function when focused on work, but any small lapse in concentration brought on intense stress. His only self-prescribed remedy for the headaches and insomnia that had plagued him for months was alcohol and cigarettes.

Liu rolled down the window halfway and lit a cigarette. The street noise grew a little closer. A group of five or six people, looking to be in their early to mid-twenties, passed by loudly blowing vuvuzelas. He stubbed out the cigarette after just a few puffs and rolled the window back up.

He wouldn't have felt this low if he hadn't received that call from the hotel this afternoon.

The hotel had called to confirm with a guest who had reserved a room — one costing well over ten thousand dollars a night, booked at an even higher rate than usual — and then failed to show up. Liu had forgotten the reservation entirely until the call came through. It was an unnecessary courtesy.

It was a room he had booked assuming he would come to New York with Yeehyeon, so he could watch the Ball Drop in comfort.

Securing a room with a direct view of the New Year's Eve Ball had required calling in favors — a whole operation in itself. Now it was just unnecessary baggage. A gift with no one left to receive it.

The hotel employee had hesitantly explained that no refund was possible even without checking in. After Liu's indifferent reply, the employee offered a cheerful New Year's greeting and disappeared from the line. The employee might have felt relieved. Liu found it difficult to concentrate on anything afterward.

He had left Seoul as if fleeing from memories of Yeehyeon, yet even here — in a place he had never been with him — he could not escape him.

As the headache tightened its grip, Liu finally began drinking the whiskey he had brought in the car. Only after slowly finishing two glasses could he manage to reach his apartment. He apologized to the H&W driver for not having a separate gift prepared, handed over a tip as a substitute, and offered a brief New Year's greeting before stepping out. One of the doormen recognized his car, quickly unfurled an umbrella, and came hurrying toward him.

It was only after getting into the elevator and being alone that he felt he could breathe a little easier. Inside the reserved, upscale condominium on the Upper East Side, the festive atmosphere of the streets felt distant — a celebration from another world. That was a relief.

As soon as he entered the foyer, he tossed his coat onto a stool in front of the kitchen counter and opened the refrigerator to pull out a beer.

Standing in front of the refrigerator, he downed half of it in one go, then slowly walked toward the living room window. He finished the rest while gazing at the skyline surrounding Central Park, shining more brilliantly than usual.

In Seoul, the New Year's morning had already begun. Paris… Paris would be a little later, the dawn of the first day of the year just breaking. Yeehyeon — he might already be starting his day diligently. Or maybe he's still in bed, making resolutions for the year. Imagining Yeehyeon's eyes darting this way and that in the pale blue early light, Liu shrugged and let out a short laugh.

He had already been in New York for about three weeks for the Pettibone exhibition planned with H&W. After taking New Year's Day off tomorrow and attending the exhibition opening on January 2nd, all of his mandatory schedule would be finished. But he still hadn't booked his return flight to Seoul.

He wasn't planning to go see him, and whether here or in Seoul, the city was equally hollow without him — yet he couldn't understand why he kept pushing back the reservation date for no apparent reason.

A laugh that sounded more like a sigh escaped him at the thought that he was no longer even surprised by his own incomprehensible behavior. He turned to grab another beer, the previous bottle now empty on the floor.

Heading toward the kitchen, Liu stopped abruptly at the sound of the doorbell. A call from the lobby. He had a few acquaintances in New York, but none close enough to just show up unannounced. Perhaps the driver had quickly bought something as thanks for the tip.

But the visitor on the intercom turned out to be someone unexpected.

After he told the front desk they could send the guest up, the doorbell rang two or three minutes later.

Shushu stood in the hallway wearing a ridiculous, cheap magician's hat stamped with "HAPPY NEW YEAR" and tooting a vuvuzela.

"What is this?"

"They were giving them out at the hotel. I brought one for you too."

It wasn't a question about the outfit, but Shushu answered as if it were, abruptly thrusting out a hat he'd been hiding behind his back. Liu sighed, turned away, and disappeared into the apartment first.

"I flew all this way because I felt sorry for you spending New Year's alone, and that's your reaction?"

"I'm making money. Why would I be pitiful?"

Liu twisted the cap off a new beer and raised an eyebrow at Shushu, who had followed him inside.

"Even though the New York branch isn't opening, you're still grinding away at the H&W work. Honestly… it's basically a loss."

The amount he had received in exchange for lending his collection and his father's collection stored in Hong Kong to H&W was by no means small in itself. But the contract had been signed on the condition that H&W would cooperate and provide support during the opening and establishment of the Phantom New York branch — making it a deal that ultimately didn't balance out. Although Chloe Kent had expressed her gratitude for his fulfillment of the contract despite the indefinite postponement — effectively the cancellation — of the New York branch, business gratitude held virtually no real value. Liu had to admit that this was a complete business failure and a loss.

"Oh? When did you buy this? Here? Or did you already own it? Did you bring it over from Hong Kong?"

Shushu had just passed through the kitchen and was about to sit on the sofa when he pointed toward the painting on the wall opposite with a delighted expression. It was an Edward Hopper piece that Liu had purchased from his father and brought for Yeehyeon. It wasn't one of Hopper's most celebrated works, but its characteristics were distinct enough that anyone could identify it at a glance.

Liu evaded the question vaguely, using his beer as an excuse to look away. Shushu didn't seem particularly eager to know the painting's origin and let it go.

"You got a new sofa too? And I don't recognize the dining table. For an apartment you stay in maybe once a year, when did you… redecorate like this…"

Shushu's voice gradually slowed as he realized the apartment had been prepared for Yeehyeon to live in with Liu.

It wasn't as spacious as the places he owned in Seoul or other cities, but this was where he had wanted to start — with Yeehyeon. He had planned to set up a separate studio, and one of the three bedrooms had already been converted into an atelier so Yeehyeon could pick up a brush whenever he wanted, even at home. Just as he had never managed to bring himself to visit the underground studio where Yeehyeon had stayed before coming to New York, Liu had sealed that room off entirely as well.

Everything he had prepared to keep Yeehyeon here had become a barbed snare, tightening around him and digging into his flesh.

Liu met Shushu's pitying gaze for a moment, then deliberately shifted to a lighter tone and changed the subject.

"It must have been hard to find a hotel on short notice at this time of year. You're quite resourceful."

"Well, I was a New Yorker for several years. Called in some favors. Cost a bit, too."

"Want a beer?"

"Cut back on the drinking."

"I have no choice if I want even a little sleep."

"You should just get a prescription for sleeping pills."

Shushu took the beer bottle from Liu with a furrowed brow.

"So you came to nag, not because you felt sorry for me."

"You've been chained to your work for months and haven't socialized with anyone. Are you trying to become a hermit? You still haven't made up with Inwu, have you?"

"Made up — what are we, children?"

Liu settled into the armchair across from the two-seater sofa where Shushu sat, leaned forward with his elbows on the armrests, and put on a playful expression.

"Jeong Se-in. I don't know what you're thinking, but I've been swamped preparing for this exhibition. I've been to Hong Kong three or four times in the last two months alone. If working this hard and being too busy to spend time with friends made you worry — I'm sorry. Okay?"

But not a trace of worry had left Shushu's eyes. Liu let out a sigh, set the beer bottle down, and stood up from the sofa.

"Let's go out. Since you came all this way complaining I never hang out with you, I should at least have a drink with you. I'll shower and change. Wait. It won't take long."

Shushu watched Liu disappear down the hallway toward the bedrooms, then quietly got up, fiddling with the tassel on his vuvuzela. He knew the apartment layout well. He had stayed here a few times after Liu inherited it. It was also where he had stayed temporarily after the incident with Hong Seon-yu, before returning to Seoul.

The door to the master bedroom at the far end of the hall was open a hand's width. Confirming the sound of water running in the en-suite bathroom, Shushu gently pushed the door open.

The nighttime view of New York through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the darkened bedroom was as breathtaking as ever. It was dazzling enough to momentarily sap the strength from his body. His steps stopped on their own, and a soft, involuntary gasp escaped him.

Thanks to the apartment's position at the southern tip of Fifth Avenue, he could take in both the imposing density of the skyscraper forest pressing close on his left and the sweeping, panoramic skyline unfurling beyond Central Park.

Inwu had visited this place with them once. Shushu smiled faintly in the dark, remembering Inwu muttering in disbelief that half the price of this apartment — enough to buy a mansion in any other major city — must be for the view.

That faint smile gradually stiffened and then disappeared. It wasn't difficult to imagine how Liu must have felt, wanting to show Yeehyeon this view.

Shushu let out a calm breath and set the envelope he had brought down on the long, simply designed desk positioned before the floor-to-ceiling window, across from the bed. Inside was a plane ticket from New York to Paris, reserved under the name Liu Weikun.

Liu was a man who could possess everything he desired through his own strength — yet even such a person sometimes needed encouragement and reassurance from those around him. Especially at a time when he felt small in the face of love.

The sound of running water from the en-suite suddenly stopped. Shushu turned quickly, but had to pause once more before leaving the room. Alienation was hanging here, nearly seven thousand miles from Seoul.

After Yeehyeon left for Paris, Liu had never once mentioned his name on his own, and when others happened to bring it up, he showed no reaction whatsoever. He hadn't forgotten — but one might have thought he had resolved to try. He kept his feelings hidden to that extent.

But he hadn't forgotten, nor did he intend to. He simply wasn't the type to complain about his pain or seek advice from those around him. The very fact that he had brought the painting all this way for a business trip that lasted barely a month said everything.

Feeling something close to the emotion he'd had as a child when he accidentally glimpsed a notebook belonging to his father — who had always seemed so large and unshakeable — filled with the most human of worries, Shushu averted his gaze and quietly left the room.

About five minutes later, Liu emerged into the hallway with his coat slung over his arm, his shirt buttons not even fully fastened.

"You don't need a spot to watch the countdown in Times Square, right? You've done all that before. Let's go to Mott Street — lamb skewers and baijiu, like we used to do for New Year's."

Liu draped his coat over the back of the sofa and suggested Chinatown while working on his buttons. Shushu looked up at him — forcing cheerfulness — and after a brief hesitation, finally spoke.

"Isn't it… a bit too big for a good-luck charm? Especially to bring all the way to New York."

"What is?"

Liu glanced over, fingers on the third button.

"Yeehyeon's painting."

"……"

His hands slowed for just a moment. He said nothing — only scraped his lower lip lightly with his teeth, pretending to focus on the button.

"Yeehyeon unveiled his work for the first time this month, through 'The Hands.'"

Liu fastened the last button, raised his head, and stared at the ceiling, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He was clearly signaling he didn't want to discuss this — but Shushu had no intention of stopping until he showed something.

"Both pieces sold immediately. They were that impressive. Far more honest and deeper — and yet the expression became clearer, simpler…"

Liu scratched his eyebrow with his middle finger, turned, walked to the refrigerator, and took out a beer.

"Did you perhaps — "

Liu cut off Shushu's careful opening, setting the beer down on the counter with a sharp thud.

"What exactly are you curious about? Whether I ignored Seo Yeehyeon's decision and his efforts to test his own potential, and just bought up all those paintings for myself?"

"……"

Shushu had assumed Liu would want to own all of Yeehyeon's work and would certainly be tracking his activities. That had been the simple thought behind the question. But as Liu said — that approach wasn't for Yeehyeon's sake.

"I was shortsighted. I'm sorry. But… you knew everything about Yeehyeon's news too. You were watching him. So why aren't you saying anything?"

"What exactly do you want to hear from me?"

Liu raised his voice. His restless eyes, which had been wandering toward the ceiling as if frustrated, fixed on Shushu.

"Do you want to see me fall apart crying about how hard things are? What changes by talking to the people around him?"

Liu puffed out his cheeks, let out a long sigh, ran a hand through his neatly styled hair, and came back to the living room, dropping into the seat across from Shushu.

"Some people overcome situations that way. Unfortunately, your friend isn't that type."

Leaning his head back against the chair, he muttered in a low, sunken voice.

"Then go see him. Do something. Go and say something — do something to resolve things with Yeehyeon."

Liu, who had been staring blankly at Shushu with his head still tilted back and eyes half-lidded, blinked slowly.

"Everything you said was right."

He threw the words out without preamble, then shook his shoulders and laughed as if recalling some absurd memory from the past. He wiped his face several times until the laughter subsided completely.

"When you were talking about Hong Seon-yu, you said that even if I thought you were foolish and worried, that was your way of loving. That you had the right to live your life foolishly."

"……"

"That wasn't the only thing, actually."

Liu sat up straight and picked up the cigarette case resting on one side of the coffee table. The apartment had been cleaned while he was out and the ashtray was spotless, but Shushu noticed several new packs of cigarettes stacked on the shelf beneath the tabletop.

With a practiced motion, he lit a cigarette and set the lighter down on the table before speaking.

"The process by which you came to accept your past with Hong Seon-yu. The way you thought through it… I hoped that Yeehyeon would come to accept me the same way."

Liu let out a low, self-mocking scoff — as if amused by his own shallowness for shifting his position the moment circumstances changed. He bit his lip once, then released it, his expression settling into something different.

"I'm sorry for the things I said — judging your love by my own standards."

"……"

Shushu's eyes widened at the weight and sincerity of the apology. He shook his head to indicate it was unnecessary, but Liu wasn't looking at him.

Liu held the cigarette between his fingers, his elbow resting on his thigh — he seemed to have forgotten about it after the first drag — and stared intently at the smoke curling up from its tip. Then, as if describing a vision he could see within the smoke, he spoke as though entranced.

"When I was in London, I met Hong Seon-yu."

Liu looked at Shushu's unguarded face, which held a mild curiosity without yet grasping the full meaning of "met," and furrowed his brow.

"For a few months, we were in the kind of arrangement where we'd reach out when we felt like it — and sleep together."

"Ah…"

Shushu's lips parted, and an involuntary groan escaped him. He sank back against the seat. Liu made no move to add anything further, giving him time to process the situation and settle his thoughts.

It didn't take as long as expected for the initial sting to fade from Shushu's face and a calm light to return. Liu ground out the cigarette — barely smoked — and prepared to continue.

"The reason I tried to stop you when you first introduced Hong Seon-yu to me was…"

"Because he must have been approaching me with a plan."

"……"

"And the reason you couldn't tell me until the end was the shock it would cause."

Shushu picked up the purple hat resting beside him, fiddled with the brim, looked down, and smiled.

"That's right. If I had heard this back then, I probably couldn't have handled it. I might have resented and lashed out at you — who did nothing wrong. Back then…"

He paused with the vague, half-there smile of someone looking back on a time of pure, reckless feeling.

"Back then, no matter who had told me, I would have come here with Hong Seon-yu. So… you did the right thing by not saying anything then."

A suffocating urge to say something rose in Liu's chest. He opened his lips and drew a breath — then realized there was nothing more he could say to Shushu, who had already put the past to rest.

"Back then, whether it was jealousy that you had slept with Seonyu, or because I didn't want to believe Seonyu had approached me with an agenda… I would have denied everything and made a scene. But what does any of that matter now? The reason Hong Seon-yu and I fell apart wasn't because of what happened between you and him."

"……"

"People will reduce our entire relationship to just the initial motive behind the approach, or to the fact that there was cheating… but the definition I have made — as the person who was actually in it — is the true nature of what we were."

Shushu, who had seemed to be looking somewhere else — speaking not quite to Liu, but to himself, or perhaps to some past version of himself — suddenly met Liu's eyes.

"Isn't that right?"

Watching Shushu ask with a playful lift of his eyebrows, Liu smiled back in silence. For the first time in months, he felt something warm — moved by his friend's response to a confession and apology that had come far too late.

"So what definition did you land on?"

At Liu's question, Shushu shrugged, let his shoulders drop with a sigh, set the hat he'd been turning over in his hands back on his head, and stood up.

"Let's go out and count down to the New Year — like we used to."