The grip of the hand wrapping around my palm was cold without any warmth. It being summer, a chill like this should have been welcome, but instead it only felt unpleasant. It was definitely a person’s hand, yet it felt like touching a beverage can that had been left in the refrigerator for a long time. Perhaps it was this guy’s way of seizing the initiative. Maybe he had been holding ice in preparation for a handshake, or had soaked his hand in cold water for a long time.

.

.

.

.

“Hate… me…? Seungoh, are you going to hate me…?”

That was a threat. A threat that if I didn’t say no, he would rather die. A threat that rather than failing to get what he wanted, he would turn me into a mu*derer. A threat that we would collapse together.

He must have been shaking me with words more repulsive than usual for this very reason. Only then would I end up climbing on top of him.

“Hate… me…? Seungoh, are you going to hate me…?”

Even if he had casually parried back with wordplay in a leisurely manner, in reality it would have been the exact opposite feeling. Even if he muttered something like ‘I want hate, I want Seungoh’ or whatever, since his heart wouldn’t settle down at all, he was trying to retract it and make it as if it had never happened.

Had he watched some movie about dragging out a relationship using su*cide as a weapon? No. Ji Seungoh didn’t watch movies or anything like that, so he must have drawn inspiration from some book. With thoughts like ‘In the end, even Wonha is just a pathetic human who fears death like a fool.’

“Hate… me…? Seungoh, are you going to hate me…?”

Are you going to kill me? Seungoh, are you going to kill me?

Die? Wonha, do you want me to die like this? Is it okay if I die?

The strangely altered face drove me into terror. It was a face slowly drawing closer to death.

Latest Release