Come Back

Choi Hong-seo wiped his tears with his hand and then rubbed it against his thigh. He slowly opened his hand and looked down at his palm. The hand that looked back at him wasn’t his own. His body had changed. “I love you.” The body he had once known, the one he had engraved with his fingertips, was no longer here.

That body had lost its life, been cremated in a distant foreign land, and its ashes were now enshrined in that memorial hall. Yet, his mind was still very much alive here.

A chill ran down his spine, and his entire body trembled violently.

The memories and emotions of who he had been, Choi Hong-seo, flowed within this body, unchanged and complete. Every experience, every feeling that had been the most meaningful in his life, and the will to carry on were still intact. The only thing that had changed was the shell surrounding his consciousness.

Choi Hong-seo slowly clenched his left hand again.

This time… the situation was different. No situation could ever be as devastating as it had been back then.

He had asked to share his horrifying past with him, to use his position and power to resolve it. He had begged for forgiveness, knowing the demon who had orchestrated that past would leave a stain on him as well, but he had asked him to bear it.

If he didn’t have to say those things, he felt like he could tell him anything, muster the courage to speak out.

He called Yong-jae, who was likely watching him from the driver’s seat. After saying he was going for a brief walk in the park behind the memorial hall, he waved in the direction of the car.

The walking path, which wound through the gently sloping hills behind the memorial hall, was lined with natural greenery. When he had visited last, a few locals had been out for exercise, but today, no one was around, likely due to the sudden drop in temperature.

Choi Hong-seo entered the park, where his figure would no longer be visible from the parking lot, and took his phone out of his jacket pocket.

“Carrot seller.”

He had received calls from him, but he had never dared to call him directly from this number.

He remembered dialing this number when he was still “Choi Hong-seo,” trying to make the call for the last time. In the end, he had watched the phone but never completed the call.

He counted slowly to five, preparing himself for the worst, but the phone’s off message greeted him instead.

For a moment, he felt discouraged, but there was no time to waste. If he was going to muster the courage now, he had to push forward.

He had been in touch with Manager Kang while arranging a consultation with the doctor in New York, so that number was still available. He dialed the number saved under “Manager Kang.” It might have been even harder and scarier than calling Vice President Lee, but he didn’t hesitate.

“Hello, this is Yun… Hye-an.”

[Hello.]

In the short greeting, Choi Hong-seo could sense a hint of confusion, as if asking, “Why are you calling?” He hesitated for a moment but clenched his fist and stepped forward.

“I know it’s rude, but… is there any way I could speak with the vice president?”

[May I ask what this is about?]

“I have something very important to tell the vice president. It’s… really important. But I can’t get in touch with him, his phone is off.”

He wasn’t trying to be annoying. He carefully emphasized that he had the vice president’s personal contact.

[Sorry, but I’m not authorized to connect calls to the vice president or relay messages.]

As expected, the response was dry and mechanical. Choi Hong-seo stopped walking. He gripped the phone with both hands.

“Is there no way? Please, he told me to come and meet him… he asked me to come directly. But I can’t get in touch with him, that’s why I’m calling. I swear, it’s true.”

His voice trembled. It wasn’t out of an attempt to gain sympathy, but it was clear it wouldn’t be enough to sway Manager Kang’s cold demeanor. Whether his voice trembled or someone was dying in front of him, Manager Kang would only follow the rules. Choi Hong-seo knew that much.

Even knowing that, he couldn’t back down. The vice president had asked him to come in person, but then turned off his phone. That was a clear rejection of communication. He had no choice but to cling to Manager Kang.

“…Please believe me. It will only take a moment to set up an appointment, just a short time. How can I meet the vice president? Please, just that.”

Manager Kang, who had been silent, finally spoke in his unchanged monotone.

[If the vice president said to come find him directly, that must mean something. And if he blocked the means to contact him, that too must mean something.]

“…”

[He isn’t someone who speaks without meaning.]

“…”

[That’s all I can say. Goodbye.]

The call with Manager Kang, who had felt like the last connection to Vice President Lee, ended abruptly.

It seemed contradictory to tell him to come in person yet cut off all ways to meet. But Manager Kang was right. Vice President Lee was not a man to speak aimlessly. He wasn’t someone who would say things just to make trouble.

Meaning… meaning…

As he climbed the gentle slope of the trail, he repeated the words the vice president had spoken in his mind.

“If you want to meet me, then this time, come find me yourself.”

“…”

“Keep your promise.”

A promise. Which promise was he referring to? The promise from his past, when he was Choi Hong-seo?

“So, save me.”

“…”

“The princess will wait with her eyes closed.”

Was he waiting somewhere? At the place of their promise?

Beyond the thorny bushes, at the top of an old, decaying castle, among the seven dwarfs who had left with lunch boxes, or in the abandoned castle that terrified the villagers, or in the form of the cursed beast, in the solitude of time.

Where are you? Where should I go to find you? I know I’m a fool.

He was disgusted by his own inadequacy, unable to even uncover the meaning of the words he left behind despite loving him so much.

The walking path, which connected narrow streams from the mountain, led to a bridge. He stopped there, gripping the railing, and gazed at the scenery. The wind scraped the Han River as it passed, and on the other side, hills similar to the ones here rose. A long tail cloud, a contrail, streaked across the sky. He couldn’t see the plane itself, but he looked up at the cloud, which slashed through the sky from the west to the east.

Suddenly, he tightened his grip on the railing with intense force..

Lampas.

A comet.

A tail star.

A shiver ran through his entire body.

Too excited, he fumbled with his jumper and dropped his phone twice.

He had made many promises. All of them were promises that hadn’t been fulfilled. But now, he was certain this was right. One of the secrets he had shared only with him.

Trying to calm his breath, which kept rushing ahead, he opened the internet app. The home screen, though not sophisticated, was charming and full of care, just like the one he was familiar with. A slow pop-up window appeared.

Lampas Personal Exhibition

《Come Back》

20xx. 11. 5 ~ 11. 19

Come back.

In the promised place, he was waiting for someone who was none other than ‘Choi Hong-seo’ to find him. Even if the person he was waiting for wasn’t ‘this Choi Hong-seo,’ this time, I would give him what he wanted. I would give him the belief in something impossible. That he had loved me, and that he still loved me. That, in itself, was an impossible thing, yet a miracle that happened. And now, just a little bit more of that miracle was added.

“For example, the expression you had just a moment ago, or the look in your eyes right now… the one where you look up at me with blind affection… that’s what I mean.”

Beyond Yun Hye-an’s physical body, he was looking at Choi Hong-seo. He had said that. He had asked to be shown something to believe in the impossible. To be saved from this chaos.

He had told me clearly and distinctly from the start, but I had been too foolish to understand.

On his way back to the parking lot, Choi Hong-seo’s legs were almost running.

“Did you go? What’s the rush, running like that…”

“Yong-jae.”

“Yes, hyung.”

“I’m going to the US for a bit.”

“Huh? The US? The one I know? When?”

“I’m going to check for available flights and leave as soon as I can.”

“Did something… come back to you?”

Yong-jae’s words made him remember that Yun Hye-an was from the US. Choi Hong-seo shook his head.

“Not exactly, but I need to check something in person. It’ll only take a few days.”

He spoke carefully, as if reluctant to explain further, and Yong-jae didn’t ask any more questions.

“The script study scheduled for this weekend has been postponed, so… there’s no problem with the schedule.”

That’s right. The script study scheduled for the weekend had been postponed. The production company hadn’t explained the reason, and when Choi Hong-seo had received the notice, he hadn’t been curious about it. Part of him was disappointed that he wouldn’t have the chance to meet him, but another part was relieved. After visiting the shaman with Lee Yeong-seong, he wasn’t ready to face people’s curiosity about what had happened. He had deliberately ignored Park Dong-ha’s message asking about that day.

But now that he thought about it, it seemed like this too might have been a move influenced by Lee Yeong-seong’s will. Even if it was overly optimistic, he didn’t mind.

On the way back to Seoul, the tail cloud had already vanished, and the long gash in the sky had healed seamlessly.

He had never taken a flight without a manager, never traveled abroad on his own, never spoken English well, and froze whenever a foreigner spoke to him. But none of those things were an issue.

The red brick gallery between downtown LA and Long Beach.

How many times had he imagined going there alone? He was sure he wouldn’t get lost even in his dreams. Whether the path there was filled with thorns, high castles, dragons, or anything else. For the princess.