Chapter : 7 The Smell of Blood
I’ll repay it. I’ll repay everything. If I get into a good school, get good grades, and graduate, I can pay it all back.
For someone who once strained the veins in her neck declaring she would succeed no matter what, it was strange.
For a while she struggled with poor grades, as if she had suddenly realized that studying wasn’t the entirety of life. Yet somehow she still managed to get into college.
Even the determination she had toward success—once she left her life as a student, who knew how that might change?
Every day felt like walking a tightrope.
Haeyoung, who knew nothing of that situation, seemed to be thinking only about how to escape this house.
The question that lingered in Taejun’s mind echoed endlessly, like an unanswered echo.
The urge to do something clashed with the helplessness of being unable to do anything.
Exhaling a long stream of cigarette smoke, Taejun quietly watched Jejun standing far too close to Ahn Haeyoung.
“Fuck. Why do I feel so damn shitty?”
He removed his glasses, holding them in one hand as he tilted his head slightly.
Outside, he hid his true feelings more thoroughly than anyone else. But strangely, in front of Ahn Haeyoung, that control didn’t work very well.
Even the cold wind brushing his cheek irritated him.
Whenever he looked at Ahn Haeyoung, the accident from several years ago overlapped in his mind, making him overly sensitive.
Especially in winters this cold, those hazy memories became painfully clear.
The bloodstained memory swallowed Taejun’s consciousness, making him forget even the cigarette still burning at his fingertips.
He could never forget the smell from that day.
The silence filling the dark corridor.
Occasional whispers and the clinking of metal.
Something dragging along the floor, scraping at his ears.
Sometimes the tip of a knife tapped against something, repeating at uneven intervals as the sound echoed around him.
From inside the room came someone’s ragged breathing—sharp, desperate—before suddenly cutting off.
It quickened, then stretched longer.
At one point there was a pause, as if the breathing had stopped entirely—like a prelude to the end.
Along with the sharp breathing came a horrifying scraping sound from the floor.
Taejun locked eyes through the narrow gap of the door.
Under dim lighting, shadows twisted grotesquely.
The hand of a man holding a knife slowly lifted, then dropped heavily.
In that moment, the sharp sound of something slicing through the air pierced his eardrums.
The clang of metal striking, the dragging of something across the floor, and irregular groans tangled together into a terrifying symphony.
Taejun couldn’t comprehend the scene unfolding before him.
The knife in the man’s hand rose slowly, then came down again.
The sound of the blade cutting through the air brushed past his ears.
The victim lying on the floor struggled, but the movements grew weaker and weaker.
Short, broken groans.
A chilling scraping sound across the floor.
And the overwhelming smell of blood paralyzed Taejun’s senses.
Then his father slowly wiped his hands and removed his leather gloves, tossing them onto the floor.
The nauseating scent of blood stabbed into Taejun’s nose.
The victim, whose hands were tied behind his back, struggled desperately, his groans amplifying the terror.
With one thin, breaking sound, a final cry of agony burst out.
His father slowly wiped his hands again, stood up, and threw the leather gloves onto the floor.
Beyond his father’s turned body, Taejun saw a man drenched in blood.
Leaving the body behind, his father made a phone call to someone.
“Yeah. It’s done. The vice chairman’s side has been taken care of too, right?”
The voice from the phone sounded calm, but the air around his father was suffocatingly cold.
Taejun hid deeper in the corridor and witnessed the final faint movement of the trembling hand on the floor.
It was the moment the thread of life snapped.
That memory didn’t fade with time.
If anything, the more he tried to erase it, the clearer it became.
The man dragged across the floor with his hands and feet bound had been none other than Ahn Daejin, the boss of the organization.
The smell, the sounds, the icy air he felt at his fingertips in that moment—none of it would ever release Taejun.
And then his father, Ki Sudon, who had been the organization’s third-in-command, rose to become its leader.
From that moment on, Taejun’s life became permanently twisted.
That was also when he started smoking.
He inhaled cigarette smoke deeply, trying to erase the lingering smell of blood in his nose.
Now Taejun watched someone standing beside Ahn Haeyoung who resembled the same eyes from that day.
Jejun—who carried the same murderous aura as his father.
For some reason, seeing him standing next to the pure and innocent Ahn Haeyoung felt ominous… and deeply unpleasant.
Taejun stepped out of the car, took a deep drag from his cigarette, then crushed it beneath his shoe.
Finally, he exhaled the smoke roughly and strode toward them.
***
When the car door slammed shut with a dull thud, Haeyoung unconsciously turned her head.
It was Taejun.
Under the streetlight, his silhouette approached slowly, clear like a shadow.
Dressed in a dark suit, Taejun walked straight toward them and stopped firmly in front of Jejun and Haeyoung.
Haeyoung’s breath caught.
“What are you doing outside at this hour? Not going in?”
His voice was low and dry. Just one short sentence.
Yet Haeyoung couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, as if frozen.
It wasn’t just the cold.
Simply looking at Taejun made her tense.
Recently, they had been clashing more often.
Between them, Jejun spoke first.
“…When did you get here? I didn’t see you arrive, hyung.”
Taejun merely glanced at him without answering.
Like a restless puppy that needed to add something more, Jejun continued,
“I was just talking with Haeyoung for a bit.”
Taejun turned his eyes away and no longer looked at Jejun.
His gaze remained fixed entirely on Haeyoung.
The weight of that stare made her shrink her shoulders slightly.
He hadn’t scolded her.
He hadn’t even spoken another full sentence.
Yet simply by existing there, Ki Taejun carried an overwhelming pressure.
Jejun cautiously raised the canned drink he had been holding.
“Do you want one too, hyung?”
Taejun noticed immediately that it was an attempt to divert his attention from Haeyoung, and slowly turned his eyes toward Jejun.
His movement was slow.
But his gaze was frighteningly sharp.
Sensing the chilly atmosphere, Jejun furrowed his brows.
Watching them quietly, Haeyoung suddenly realized that look felt familiar.
Taejun always controlled people like this.
That silence that seemed to pierce through someone.
The pressure he exerted without speaking.
Even his attitude—appearing kind, yet somehow rough and improper.
She had lived in the same house with Ki Taejun for several years, but rather than feeling close to him, she always felt that he was difficult to deal with.
Which meant he truly was a difficult person.
“Are you not going in?”
Taejun spoke again.
Only then did Haeyoung realize she had been trembling.
“Let’s go.”
His words were short.
There was no choice in them.
Haeyoung nodded.
Jejun remained standing alone as he watched Haeyoung obediently follow behind Taejun.
His brows twisted fiercely at the strange atmosphere.
Haeyoung walked behind Taejun as he led the way.
Each time she stepped forward, the sound of dry grass crunching echoed softly through the air.
It was already the end of winter.
The tree branches were bare without a single leaf, and frost covered the ground.
Under a leafless azalea bush, Haeyoung’s shadow stretched out in layers.
Strangely, the footsteps of Taejun walking beside it made no sound at all.
Haeyoung pulled her collar tighter and lowered her head slightly.
What frightened her more than the cold wind… was the silence he emitted.
The front door opened.
Warm indoor air rushed out, completely different from the cold outside.
They passed through the hallway and the stairs. As they moved up, the sensor light beneath the staircase slowly turned off.
The suffocating silence poured down heavily.
Haeyoung carefully moved her steps.
Without realizing it, she held her breath.
A heavy emotion, as if something were poking at her chest, settled deep inside her.
Taejun said nothing.
But she knew.
He was angry.
Or he was holding back something he wanted to say.
