Divorce Contract C72

Chapter 72

He stood before the washbasin and gazed into the mirror. The face reflected there was strange beyond comprehension. Eyes, nose, and lips all appeared as though rotted and collapsed, blurred into grotesque ruin. He was revolted. The brittle strands of his hair, his eyes dulled to the hue of a dead fish—everything in that reflection felt foreign, uncanny. As his trembling hand rose to touch his cheek, the skin seemed to melt, sliding down in rivulets.

“Hhh, hh, ugh…”

Was this, and not Seo Dohyeon’s pheromones, the stench that had sickened him so? His stomach turned violently. Go Igyeol crumpled to the ground, retching dryly once more. It seemed as though chunks of flesh fell pattering upon the tiles. Crawling backwards, his hands clawing at his face, his scream split the air—so that Seo Dohyeon, who had been lingering outside, burst through the bathroom door. There lay Igyeol, collapsed on the floor, his face hidden, his body curled tight.

“Go Igyeol.”

“Hhh, hhh, d-don’t come. Don’t come near me, please—don’t…!”

“Are you in pain? Is it your stomach still unsettled?”

He grasped his shoulder, tried to turn him, but Igyeol kept his head bowed stubbornly low. His uninjured hand covered his face as he breathed in shallow gasps, dragging the collar of his hospital gown up to hide himself.

“Igyeol.”

“D-don’t look at me. I’m hideous. The smell… the smell must be from this. What am I to do… what am I to do? I must go see the baby, and yet this stench… it is unbearable.”

“What smell? There is no smell at all—”

“Hhh, o-oh, what am I to do… it’s wrong, it’s all wrong.”

Seo Dohyeon’s gaze followed the trembling hand groping along the tiles. This was some new torment, another affliction, and the weight of it pressed the air from his chest.

“This will pass.”

“N-no, no, I don’t want it. No, please…”

Fearing Dohyeon might strip away the cloth he held so tightly to his face, Igyeol clutched it harder still. His sobbing grew wilder. Dohyeon, rather than force the garment from him and worsen his shock, took his elbow and gently drew him upright.

“Walk. To the inside.”

Guiding his hesitant steps, he led him into the shower booth and asked quietly if he would allow his aid.

“I shall help you. If you cannot abide that, speak now, and I will fetch another.”

Of course, Igyeol recoiled at the thought. To be touched by him, or to endure the hands of a stranger—both were hateful. Yet in his fractured mind, he knew only Dohyeon stood near to render assistance. Shivering, he yielded.

Concealing the heaviness within his breast, Dohyeon washed him. Foam slid down that too-white, pallid skin, spiraling away into the drain, while Dohyeon pondered how to free his face from the cloth. How might he strip it away?

“Your hair should be washed.”

“……”

“If you would not have me see you, then close your eyes, and I shall keep mine shut. Remove it.”

He took Igyeol’s hand and pressed it to his own face, showing him his closed lids. At that, the trembling fingers fell away at once. Only the hiss of water filled the silence. How long he waited thus he could not tell—until at last came the soft thud of wet cloth falling to the floor. Then, Igyeol’s thin hand took the showerhead from him.

“The purple bottle, to the right.”

The shampoos stood untouched, as though he had been using body wash for his hair until now. When Dohyeon’s voice guided him, Igyeol turned his hand from left to right and pressed the pump. Violet gel spilled glittering into his palm. Even with his wounded hand, he felt no unease—he thought only that he must cleanse himself quickly, scrubbing at half-wet hair in frantic haste.

When the foam slid down his face with the water, he reflexively raised his hand, but the terror that his skin might peel away with it stayed him. He wept anew. The showerhead slipped from his grasp and struck the floor with a hollow clang, sending water spurting upward.

“Uhhk, hh, what am I to do…”

At the sound reverberating in the small space, Dohyeon opened his eyes. Igyeol stood, tears streaming, foam clinging to his hair, unable even to rinse it away. Dohyeon seized the showerhead, rinsing the lather from his locks. When he reached out to touch his face, Igyeol shrieked.

“D-don’t touch me! Please… my face—it’s wrong, it’s ruined…”

Even with his eyes closed, his wet face seemed achingly pure. Dohyeon could not fathom what was amiss. He reached again, and at his touch, Igyeol recoiled in terror.

“M-my face… it feels as though it is rotting.”

“…What?”

“R-rotting, melting away. My eyes, too—they look wrong. Their color’s changed. Everything is wrong. If you touch it, it will fall away. It stinks, it’s foul, I cannot endure it…”

“……”

Dohyeon swept back his wet hair, stifling a sigh. Rather than protest, he gently wiped away the foam at his ear, then turned off the water. Wrapping him in a towel, he watched as Igyeol bound another cloth tightly about his face.

“Why… why must this happen to me… why only me…”

His sobbing grew harsher. Dohyeon fetched another towel, dried him, and dressed him in a clean gown. Leading him back, he seated him on the bed, even pulling the socks Jae-seon had brought onto his feet. Then he carefully unwound the cloth from his face.

“Do not look at me too closely. Do not touch. Please, do not touch…”

Unable to bear the weight of those obvious eyes upon him, Igyeol covered his face with his hands. Dohyeon dabbed gently at the moisture with practiced motions, then took up a sterile swab. He cleaned the dried discharge from his ear, applied ointment, and pressed fresh gauze in place to keep him from worrying at it.

His palm and arm he treated next, disinfecting and binding them anew. He dried Igyeol’s hair with warm air and laid him upon the bed. At once Igyeol drew the quilt over his head, hiding himself away.

“Your meal.”

“……”

Even muffled through the thick gauze, Dohyeon’s voice pierced his ears. He felt mocked—as though it said, Did you not eat like a glutton before? Bitter sorrow swelled, and he clenched his eyes shut, refusing reply. Beneath the blanket, he fancied he smelled rot. He endured it, wishing only that sleep might carry him to a morning when all would be well.

While Igyeol slept, Dohyeon stepped outside and asked Yoon Jaeseon if he had contacted Shin Eunsuk. The reply came: it was the busy season at the pension, and she could not leave. Dohyeon sighed, searched his phone, and pressed her number.

After a few rings, a familiar voice answered.

“This is Seo Dohyeon, whom you met before.”

— “Who… ah, yes, yes, hello.”

“Is this a convenient time?”

— “Ah, one moment.”

She spoke briefly, warmly, with a guest, then returned.

— “Now, it’s fine. How is our Igyeol? The secretary—was it?—he called, told me to come to Seoul at once. I wondered what on earth had happened…”

Her words made Dohyeon glance at Jaeseon. Only come at once had been said? He could only sigh.

“…Igyeol is in hospital. The baby came early. Neither the child nor Igyeol is well. I cannot even tell a white lie and say they are fine.”

He sought to speak steadily, but his voice faltered. He wetted his lips, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes.

— “…What? What do you mean, the baby is already born? The due date was months away. And Igyeol—what illness is it? You must speak clearly—if I had known he was unwell, I—!”

Her voice shook, rising in panic. Dohyeon opened his mouth once more.

“Could you come to the hospital? If it is the pension that binds you, I shall send people to aid in its running. I beg you.”

— “I must, of course. I must come. Heaven above, what on earth… what…”

Incoherent with shock, she at last declared she would come immediately, bidding him send the name of the hospital in a message. When Dohyeon offered to send staff, she refused. If something had truly befallen Igyeol, she would not owe her presence to his assistance.

“The guests at your pension—”

— “No matter. I’ll ask the village headman to watch for a day or two. Something has happened to Igyeol… I’ll go mad, I will.”

Her voice, frayed with both worry and irritation toward him, ended the call. By Dohyeon’s side, Yoon Jaeseon, restless, at once set about arranging staff to go in her stead.

“Ensure the place runs smoothly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Igyeol’s psychiatric appointment? It was delayed by the heat.”

“It is scheduled for two o’clock today.”