A Taste to Spit Out - Chapter 11

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“Sun-Woo lost one of his eyes and died, while I can’t even paint…”

“But what’s the point of struggling to live again? It’ll just repeat all over again. I’ll just be dragged to a place I don’t want to go, down a path I don’t even know.”

“If that’s the case, I’d rather stay like this, let my breath stop—stop completely. That way, there’ll be no more suffering.”

“Yes, I need to stop breathing more. Like I’m drowning, not even a single breath of air should be allowed.”

“At that moment, through my blurred vision, I saw an open window. And beyond that, the lake…”

“Stumble, stumble.”

“I approached the window and flung it wide open. Then, I placed one foot on the window frame, followed by the other.”

“…Hup, ha!”

Staggering, I stood on the windowsill, my final ground. Whoosh, the wind blows. The scent of the lake wafts over from far away.

The crutch falls, sucked into the deep waters. The lake, filled with darkness, awaits me, and I step toward it.

It was the first emotion I had ever felt—freedom. Is this how a wild dog feels when it escapes the fence?

Soon, the still water wrapped around my chest. Splash, splash, I surrendered myself to the quiet sound of the lake’s waves.

This time, I’m really going to die…

No guilt, no lingering regrets.

Gulp, gulp, the deep water swallowed my entire body.

‘Ah…’

I couldn’t even resist. Helplessly, I was drawn into the deep current, its overwhelming power.
Today, I’m really going to die. That slow thought crossed my mind.

Huh? Am I imagining things? It felt like something just grabbed me forcefully. I quickly shook my head in denial.

Who would come to save me at this hour? Was it just a reversed wave?

Whatever it was, whatever wave it may be, I was ready to be swept away.

I let all the strength leave my body and surrendered myself entirely to the force that shook me.

* * * * *

When I slowly opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was a dark ceiling.

Yes, once again, I hadn’t died.

“Ha… haa.”

I exhaled heavily, like someone who had just finished a marathon. Why? I was definitely sinking
into the lake, so what on earth had stopped me this time?

And soon, I found the answer.

“Sweetie, were you feeling suffocated?”

The large figure sitting beside me leaned down toward me. His massive shadow overlapped mine. Drip, drip—sticky water droplets fell from him, like a heavy summer rain.

“Is it you again…?”

Kang Yeol-jin, completely drenched, looked down at me. His eyes held a stillness, like a quiet night.

“Yeah, Hee-jae. This must feel strange for you… hard, even.”
He had a rebellious look, with a shaved head so short that his scalp was visibly pale, and thick, pitch-black eyebrows smeared like charcoal, complete with a scratch.

But now, his bangs had grown long enough to cover his forehead. He kissed the back of my hand.

“It’s hard to believe, right? That a trashy mutt like me is your husband.”

As if he actually loved me.

A slow smirk spread across his face, and the scar on his cheek, sharp like a knife wound, appeared even deeper.

“Yeah, this must feel like hell. You’d rather die, wouldn’t you?”

I was staring at the thin moonlight caught in that sharp scar.

A scar he didn’t have the last time I saw him. At just sixteen, this guy had become the youngest

MMA champion—only to get caught in a doping test.

Boar aphrodisiac.

The so-called “elite” had fed him that aphrodisiac.

And then, what did they do? They set him up to fight four gangsters, one against four. The guy my father brought to the scene back then was none other than Kang Yeol-jin.

When you were twenty-two, two years had slipped by without me even realizing it. Now, at twenty-four, you truly reeked of masculinity.

That sensual scent emanating from his massive body—just how much of it had he smeared all over me?

Even when I just touched my earlobe, swept my hair back, or blew my nose, it triggered an overwhelming reaction. It felt like I was suffocating from that crude pheromone.

“Aren’t you hungry? I like it when you eat well.”

Out of nowhere, he picked up a plate from the bedside table.

“This used to be your favorite. Remember?”

Then, he sliced a perfectly ripe yellow mango. My nose, already sensitive from the pheromones Kang Yeol-jin exuded, flared instinctively. The sweet smell hit me hard. Did I really use to eat that?

“When your morning sickness was bad, you loved eating this after chilling it in the fridge. You were so beautiful back then.”