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59

“Why do you have to think so hard? Take it easy, Han Chasoo-ssi.”

Do you want him to admit that he’s so overwhelmed that he cut himself? Or do you want him to say that he actually like to cut himself?

‘If I say that’s my preference, you will put me to a mental institution in no time.’

That’s the way Jung Yiheon’s eyes are looking at him now.

“Just tell me you’re having a hard time. You can talk about it at any time.”

His face is meek, but there’s an edge to his eyes that tells him, he has nothing to hide and will do whatever he wants.

‘Is the nightmare of a perpetual contract returning?’

He can’t believe he hadn’t brought up the subject of contracts for so long.

He sighed deeply, and Baek-dam gently stroked the back of his hand. It was a comforting gesture, but it didn’t help much.

Because this guy is just like him.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a physical wound or a mental wound, if it bleeds, we all clean it and put medicine on it, right? Trauma is the same, trust me, Han Cha-soo.”

Baek-dam insists that he knows because he’s been there, and he’ll cure him.

‘Is it okay to compare it to cutting off a person’s limbs and carotid artery with medicine….’

This was the same character who tortured Han Cha-soo in the original to ease his grief over the loss of his brother. Han Cha-soo shook his head and pulled his hand away. It was only for a moment, but Baek-dam’s face turned pale.

“No matter how bad the wound is, I don’t want that kind of treatment.”

Or, more accurately, he didn’t want to expend energy on it. He had enough time to hold him all day, and he didn’t need to waste it on criminals.

But he couldn’t say it outright, so he used common sense and refused. Then Baek-dam spoke up in a cold voice.

“Han Cha-soo, are you doing this on purpose?”

“What?”

“Do you know what’s going to make a difference if you bleed as if you’re asking me to look at you and say you don’t need anything? Do you think everything will be okay if you close your eyes, just as you pretend not to know when you see the wound festering, and that such a wound did not exist from the beginning?”

“…….”

Han Cha-soo reflexively opened his mouth to ask why he was so upset. His instincts warned him. If he asked why, he’d end up looking bad.

After a moment of thought, he slowly opened his mouth.

“…I’m not denying that I’m sick.”

“Really?”

“I just don’t believe that I can get better by hurting other people.”

Part of him wanted to tell him to go fuck herself, that he was fine, that he was traumatized, but he knew that would only deepen the misunderstanding.

He could tell them a thousand times that he was fine, but to their ears it would sound like the desperate excuses of a sick person.

‘I don’t even know where to start.’