Sumbisori

As the two men stepped into the entryway, the overhead sensor switched on the light.

"How far are you planning to follow me?"

Liu, who had been leading the way, turned back with a dissatisfied expression. Due to their close proximity — almost at his eye level — Choi Inwu's face was cast in shadow.

"I was ordered to see you safely home."

"An order? From whom?"

"Manager Han."

"……"

Whether he understood the gravity of the disturbance he had just caused, Liu smiled awkwardly, took off his shoes, and changed into indoor slippers.

It had been a long time since Choi Inwu had visited Liu's residence.

There was a time when he came and went often, spending boisterous hours in the garden, the living room, the kitchen. The period when Liu Weikun had seemed most human. When Seo Yeehyeon was here….

You could enter the house directly from the parking garage via the basement. Despite this, Liu had parked the car, exited through the basement, crossed the garden, and come in through the front door.

The reason was obvious. No need to ask.

He must have kept the basement exactly as Yeehyeon had left it.

Choi Inwu followed Liu up into the hallway, surveying the dim living room before frowning.

"What kind of mess is this house?"

"It's perfectly clean, so why nitpick?"

Liu replied in a weary voice as they crossed the living room toward the dining area.

"I'm saying it's too clean. It doesn't look like anyone actually lives here."

Liu didn't even bother responding. Standing in the pitch-dark kitchen, he pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator and drank straight from it without bothering to pour it into a glass. Then, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he asked Choi Inwu if he needed water too.

"Want some?"

"Not water. Get me some liquor."

"You just came from drinking. Why do you need more?"

"Should I stay over?"

"Stop with that disgusting talk and just go."

"Who said anything about sleeping with you? I'm not into some big muscle-bound Alpha anyway."

"……"

"If you have any good wine hidden away, bring it out. Let's drink until morning, just the two of us, for old times' sake."

"I'm tired. Not in the mood for that."

Waving his hand dismissively, Liu passed Choi Inwu and moved sluggishly toward the stairs. The sight of his back was completely different from what Choi Inwu was used to. He looked like a ghost dragging a heavy iron ball chained to his ankle.

"…Liu Weikun."

He had never called him by name with such hesitation.

When Liu turned around, Choi Inwu found himself unable to utter the words he had intended to say.

Go see Yeehyeon. If you truly let Yeehyeon go, you will end up living a life worse than death, in an even more terrible state than you are now. Wouldn't it be better to at least kneel down and beg than to let that happen?

He couldn't say it.

Because when Liu turned around, his eyes were already yearning for it with such desperation.

He must be the one most haunted by it — aching for him, yet unable to move forward.

"Never mind. Go to sleep."

After Choi Inwu left, Liu climbed the stairs with heavy steps — then gradually slowed and stopped. He stood still in the darkness for a moment. Then he turned his body and headed down to the basement.

He descended the stairs and turned on only the minimal indirect lighting.

He almost expected Yeehyeon to turn around from preparing for bed beside the mattress and offer a shy smile. He felt as if, if he asked, "Is it alright if I sleep here?" Yeehyeon would silently lift one side of the blanket.

Or perhaps he would see Yeehyeon sitting before the easel, brush in hand, unaware of how late it had gotten.

If Liu watched Yeehyeon's absorbed back for too long, he would sometimes feel a sudden dread and loneliness. There were times when he would tremble from a sense of alienation — afraid that Yeehyeon, swimming so freely and without constraint in his own world, might never return to the world Liu belonged to.

Nights of sweet anxiety, when he would announce his presence by approaching from behind, overlay his own hand on the hand holding the brush, force him to turn around, press their lips together, pull him away from the painting, and lock him in his arms.

Liu slowly approached the large H-frame easel. He pushed and pulled it, idly rolling the wheels.

Although Yeehyeon's tools and materials were gone, the easel, chair, and trolley remained. The furniture, a few potted plants, and miscellaneous household items were all still there.

The yellowish light from the garden lamps slanted in through the window above. Standing blankly on the hazy stage of light, Liu looked around the empty room — as if searching for the owner even knowing he had already left.

He lowered his head, brushed the back of his neck, and approached the bed. He had tidied this spot himself just a few days ago. He sat on the edge and swept his palm across the sheet. The bedding, too, was exactly what Yeehyeon had used.

He had never entrusted the care of this basement to the housekeeper who helped with the chores. He had tended to everything here with his own hands.

That was the case now, but for a long time he hadn't even dared come down here. It was only after meeting Morae and Yeehan in Bali the previous summer that he had finally been able to set foot in this place for the first time.

Yet even now, he still couldn't bring himself to sleep here.

He knew that everyone who knew about his relationship with Yeehyeon was watching him closely. Whenever the name Seo Yeehyeon was mentioned somewhere, they all froze with something close to horror, then cast furtive glances his way as if a bomb had just dropped.

Today was no different. When one of the clients had brought up Yeehyeon's name, Manager Han, Kwon Juhan, and Choi Inwu had stiffened for a split second — and then came the quick, furtive glances checking Liu's expression.

Liu let out a bitter, hollow laugh and clasped his hands together on his knees.

Even if he wanted to tell them how he was doing now, he couldn't. He couldn't share these feelings with anyone.

Trying to explain his current state was like attempting to move the ocean with his hands.

Even if he held the seawater in his palm, it wouldn't show them the ocean. Nothing would be explained. That's why he had simply decided to keep his mouth shut.

Just as he had lived without sharing this peculiar trait — no, this deformed trait called Ghost — with anyone, the state of sedimentation that had grown from his love with Yeehyeon was his burden alone to carry.

He finished showering in the basement bathroom just as he was. The closet was stocked with underwear, pajamas, and loungewear he could use.

And striped T-shirts were neatly hung on the hangers.

After Yeehyeon left, he had bought them whenever he noticed them, and now there were over ten. He flipped through the neatly hung shirts one by one before closing the closet door.

He dried his wet hair with a towel and stood in front of the bookshelf — the shelf where he kept all print media featuring Yeehyeon. Even though he had bought up every overseas art magazine he could find, it barely filled one shelf.

He picked up the most recently published magazine and went to the bed. It was an experimental art magazine based in Berlin. He opened the section marked with an index tab.

It was an article written by an editor who had personally visited The Hands in Paris to cover Yeehyeon's new work. This was the seventh piece in the Colorful Ghosts series, Yeehyeon's latest release that the clients at Phantom had been discussing.

The article, which included a brief account of the editor meeting and speaking with Yeehyeon — though not a formal interview — continued for four pages, covering other artists affiliated with The Hands as well.

He had already read it dozens of times, yet he pored over it again as if seeing it for the first time, etching every character into his mind. Liu drew the towel from his head down to rest on his thigh, and lost himself in the article.

Yeehyeon had never agreed to be photographed for any publication, and this time was no exception. However, high-quality photographs of his artwork were featured prominently.

The figures in his artwork, each with exaggerated and heightened features, were literally colorful. Because of this, they could easily appear chaotic at first glance. However, just as the article expressed, there was definitely some unwavering core within them.

The painter's gaze observing the chaos.

That gaze accepted the motley collection of ghosts — seemingly mismatched — exactly as they were. The ghosts did not clash; rather, they harmonized.

"Perhaps he was speaking of something unshakeable, something that remained steadfast even amid confusion and unease — much like Yeehyeon himself."

Liu reread that passage several times.

There were people who truly looked at and understood Yeehyeon's work. While this made him glad, deeply moved, and grateful, a dark possessiveness simultaneously stirred within him — a desire not to share Yeehyeon with anyone.

In truth, he wanted to own every single piece Yeehyeon ever produced.

If he truly set his mind to it, he could accomplish that without Yeehyeon ever finding out. But he would never do such a thing. That would be a betrayal of Yeehyeon's choices and efforts.

While at The Hands, Yeehyeon needed to make a name for himself and be judged solely on his own talent. To achieve that, he had been continuing his artistic endeavors without wavering, enduring much criticism, neglect, and sometimes even ridicule.

If Liu secretly bought up every piece Yeehyeon released while he was there, it would essentially negate all that effort.

It was alright not to possess him.

The intense desire to own him still persisted, but hadn't he learned the hard way that possession wasn't the end of love?

Liu carefully traced the image of Yeehyeon's work on the page with his fingertip.

He just knew. He knew Yeehyeon was going through a difficult time as well.

Not to condemn the wicked Liu Weikun, but to forgive him.

That he was enduring this time not to forget each other, but for the day they could be together again.

That he still loved him. That he wanted to forgive him. So please, hold on steadfastly. Yeehyeon was saying it through his art — by painting those ghosts so beautifully.

Liu closed the magazine and placed it back where it belonged. Before turning off the lights, he surveyed the empty room once more. It felt as if the entire room had emptied just because one person was gone. Hesitating as though he couldn't bear to look any longer, Liu turned away and headed toward his bedroom.

After taking care of various small matters as part of his bedtime routine, he stood by the bed. He picked up the framed photograph on the bedside table and gave a short laugh.

A tall rabbit wearing a handsome bespoke suit and holding a pocket watch.

It was a portrait of Liu Weikun, drawn by Yeehyeon.

He didn't lie in the center but on the left side, leaving the space next to him empty. When they slept here together, Yeehyeon's spot was always on the right. When he lay down, the painting titled Alienation hung directly in front of him.

He turned onto his side, gazing at Yeehyeon's vacant spot. He took one of the two stacked pillows and pulled it close to hug.

He was now alone in the bed where their pheromones had once swirled together as Ghost and Diamond Dust, burning with communion.

The blood rushing through his body boiled as if on fire, yearning for Yeehyeon — his only Diamond Dust.

He closed his eyes and murmured the words as if chanting a spell to quell the withdrawal.

"Seo Yeehyeon."

He curled up tighter, hugging the pillow fiercely.

"See you tomorrow, Yeehyeon-ah."