Divorce Contract C112

Chapter 112

Go Igyeol tugged at his necktie, his hands moving swiftly, unimpeded, as he popped open the buttons of Seo Dohyeon’s shirt. In no time, his chest was laid bare, and then his own top was pulled off, tossed carelessly aside. Srrk, thud. The fabric landed with a faint sound, crumpled in a heap.

“I didn’t come here for this—”

“If this isn’t what you want, then what is? Why else do you keep showing up in front of me, over and over again? This is it, isn’t it? Don’t bother pretending otherwise. You’re not that kind of man.”

His reddened eyes flashed as he hurled the words, and Dohyeon’s mouth clamped shut. Murmuring that it didn’t matter anymore, Igyeol reached for his belt. If they tangled bodies once more, he was certain Dohyeon would stop seeking him out. Another round of humiliation would change nothing in the end.

“Igyeol.”

“…Don’t call my name.”

“I didn’t come for this.”

Dohyeon gently took the hand that had gripped his belt buckle and pulled it away. He bent, picking up the sweater Igyeol had thrown aside, and wrapped it back around his trembling frame. His body, pale and thin, still had not regained its weight, though Shin Eunsuk had been making sure he ate well. Fragile, as though it might snap at any touch. Dohyeon smoothed the fabric over him, fastening his loosened trousers as well.

“I came because you were crying. I didn’t think, I didn’t weigh anything—I just couldn’t bear the thought of you sitting alone somewhere, weeping, and it snagged here.” He pressed a hand to his chest.

“…”

“Even though you’re with Shin Eunsuk, even with the baby, even in a place that holds no trace of me—you were still crying. And the only thought in my head was that I had to come. That I had to be with you, no matter that seeing me would only make things harder for you. I couldn’t stop myself.”

He fastened the buttons of Igyeol’s shirt and stuffed the tie, wrinkled and twisted, into his pocket. To force attention from him now would only cause him pain.

“I know it makes you uneasy. I know you have every right to doubt me. I know it, up here—” he tapped his temple, “but even so… I can’t seem to help myself. Do you think apologizing lightens my guilt? No. It only grows heavier. I live every day steeped in regret. Why did I do those things to you, when I can’t ever change the past now?”

His voice cracked, low and hoarse. Igyeol stared down at his straightened clothes, lips pressed tight, before speaking slowly.

“You told me I was your regret. That the more you saw me, the greater it grew.”

“…”

“To me, you’re… a nightmare. One that won’t end, no matter how many times I wake. It’s unbearable. Even here, every night… every single night, I think of you. When I turn over the things you did, the cruelty I endured—it’s so wretched I can’t stand it. I only ever think about dying. But I can’t even do that. My regret is Ihyeon. That child keeps me tethered.”

His voice broke, weighted with grief. His gaze fell to the pocket where Dohyeon had shoved the tie. He remembered too vividly how that soft strip of silk had muffled his mouth.

“See? I want to forget. But when you come like this…”

His eyelids screwed shut, and tears spilled down his cheeks in long, burning tracks. A droplet slid from his chin and fell. His cracked lips parted.

“…It all comes back.”

A bitter laugh escaped him. The memory of silk gagging his mouth, the pain of being bound by his own pajamas so tightly he couldn’t move, the days when no matter what he said, Dohyeon had never listened—only taken him with force. Those recollections stung his eyes with fresh tears.

His legs gave way, and he crumpled to the floor. He bit his lip hard, smothering his sobs. Dohyeon sank down beside him, pulling him into his arms.

He thought about it dozens of times each day—what he could do, how he should act. His every waking and sleeping thought was filled with Igyeol; his mornings began and his nights ended with him. This endless loop could only be broken by his own hand, or Igyeol would never be free.

“Uhuhk, hhk… hhhuu…”

He rubbed Igyeol’s fragile back as it trembled beneath his palm. The words I won’t come again hovered on his tongue. But once spoken, they would bind him, unbreakable. He could not say them. The past could not be undone. And if forgetting was possible only by his absence, then truly, this must be punishment at last.

Igyeol clutched at his clothes and whispered, brokenly, “D-Don’t come. Stop coming. Please… just leave me alone.”

Dohyeon cupped his wet face, his brows knotted tight. Those words, trembling as they left him, pierced like thorns in his chest. Slowly, he brushed his fingertips beneath Igyeol’s eyes, swallowing down a sigh.

“Stop crying.”

That low voice, once a sound Igyeol had thought beautiful, resonated calm and firm. His watery eyes lifted, waiting for the words to follow. Dohyeon’s lips parted again, and Igyeol’s tear-clumped lashes lowered faintly.

“Don’t sit alone, crying in places like this. Just… live well. If you can do that, then I’ll never come again. I won’t even watch from afar. I’ll vanish from your life completely. So, please—don’t cry.”

Grinding his teeth, he pulled Igyeol up and sat him at the edge of the bed, wiping his face again and again, though the tears wouldn’t stop.

“I won’t come rushing like this again. So, Go Igyeol, live well. Show me you can.”

“…”

Staring at empty air, Igyeol closed his eyes tight. The hand cupping his damp cheek lingered with unspoken longing before it fell away. Dohyeon turned, the whisper of his clothes stirring the air. A thunk—the sound of the door opening and closing—left silence in its wake. Even knowing he had gone, Igyeol could not open his eyes.

Once outside, Dohyeon slid into his car and exhaled the breath he had been holding. His hands shook violently on the wheel. Anger rose, so raw he could not even discern at whom it was aimed. He could never tell Igyeol to forget—not those memories. How could anyone command him to erase them? The past had returned like a boomerang, crushing him with guilt.

He longed to vanish into smoke. But in that moment, Igyeol’s words came back:

“I want to die in front of you. Then you’d never be able to forget me. At least you’d feel guilty whenever you thought of me. You’d always carry me, in your mind or your heart, as guilt…! But I can’t even die. If I die… we can’t divorce.”

Even death, to him, was a luxury. To abandon responsibility in that way would bind Igyeol to him forever. He could not even wish for such an end.

Time passed swiftly. Igyeol grew calmer, enough to say he was managing. There were more hours of laughter than of tears now, and when he thought of Dohyeon ten times, four of those times he no longer cried. But for Dohyeon, every day was worse than the last. The world hadn’t collapsed, as Jaeseon once said it wouldn’t—but it was impossible to lie that he was well. His days were unstable, riddled with sleepless nights. Medicine only led to shallow slumber, which collapsed into nightmares all the same.

“Executive Director.”

“…Yes.”

“The meeting begins in ten minutes.”

Dohyeon set down the pen in his hand, pressing hard against his aching eyes. At Jaeseon’s carefully measured voice, he lowered his hands again. His vision blurred, as though watercolors had bled across the page.

“Are you all right?”

“No. I’m not.”

“….”

“Like you said… life goes on. But when nothing changes, every day becomes hell. Yesterday was worse than the day before, today is worse than yesterday, and tomorrow—how much more wretched will it be? Sometimes when I close my eyes, I think… if I never wake again, it might be easier.”

Rising, he slipped on his jacket.

“…Sir.”

“But that person suffered more than I ever did. So I tell myself this is nothing. That I can bear it. Let’s go.”

His face, sharpened from the weight lost, passed by Jaeseon. His very presence bristled with sharp edges. Following, Jaeseon realized with alarm that his rut must be approaching. Though he took suppressants, between the alcohol, the sleeping pills, and his broken state, they might not even work.

“You’re still taking the suppressants, yes?”

“Yes.”

“If anything feels off, please tell me. And—about Kang Mijin, the one you asked me to watch. She hasn’t made any overt moves yet. Shall I keep someone on her?”

“Keep watch. By now she’ll be collapsing—mentally, physically. No matter how much money she pays back, the debt won’t shrink. She won’t be able to face her brats. And so, like Go Daesik, she’ll try to use Igyeol. She’ll stop at nothing to see him. If she slips past us, if anything—anything at all—happens to Igyeol, I’ll come for you first, Jaeseon. So keep your wits about you.”