A Thread of Red

His lips fell away, and this close she could hear him breathing. A short silence settled between them. It was Lee-gang who spoke first in the dark.

"I'm not saying you're good, but I'd like a taste."

His hand caught her chin and cheek, tilting her face up to meet his eyes.

"Aren't you the same way? It's written all over your face that you like this kind of thing. You know that?"

Harin's wavering gaze took in the tension and heat that had spread down his jaw to the base of his throat. He was flushed. His desire was laid bare, so raw that the slightest touch might set him off.

His Adam's apple slid smoothly downward. Even the sound of him swallowing sounded obscene.

"That's why I'm asking. If sponsorship really disgusts you that much……"

His voice dropped another register.

"Should we just sleep together?"

Her breath caught in her throat.

His gaze traveled slowly over her lips, then climbed back to her eyes.

"You wanted it too."

Harin froze on the spot.

Their lips still burned where they'd touched, and the tip of her tongue ached with the craving for his taste.

It was true that she was drawn to him. And of course she knew exactly what he wanted from her. But admitting it felt like it would make her even more wretched, so she'd been doing her best to pretend otherwise.

And now here he was, asking her to sleep with him point-blank, and she couldn't decide whether to thank him or call him trash.

Harin thought of the pretty girls she'd seen earlier on the street, the short skirts swishing as they walked. His profile, smirking faintly as he chatted them up, lashed across her mind like a whip.

She wondered what made her any different from those women.

Whether you sold laughter in a bar, or walked into the fighting pit on your own two feet……

In the end, weren't they all clinging to his side because they needed money?

"I'll lend you the money to pay back what you owe me—so count the interest."

First, the pretext of a loan.

"I'll sponsor you. Fight as my athlete."

Then, the cheap, unvarnished truth—he wanted to keep her chained to the arena.

"Should we just sleep together?"

And now a shamelessness that didn't even bother hiding his desire anymore.

Just how easy did he think I was?

Harin let out a hollow laugh. Head bowed, she bit down hard on the inside of her lip. It didn't hurt. It was just unpleasant, and humiliating.

What drove her madder still was the fact that the moment his lips had found hers had been achingly, almost blindingly good.

Right. Maybe he was right, and she liked this kind of thing. She kept wondering, too, what might be waiting at the end if she just kept wanting more.

She couldn't tell whether it was because all of these sensations were new, or because the man was Yoon Lee-gang. One thing was certain, though—it had felt good.

So maybe if she just slept with him once, pressed the money into his hands on top of what he'd lent for her grandmother's hospital bills, he'd finally get bored and let her go.

Ah, right—since I'm sleeping with him, should I add on a performance fee too?

It seemed easier, somehow, to think of the whole thing as a transaction that ended in cash.

Only then could she insist that that trembling moment ago hadn't been desire—just a mistake.

……That's the only way I get to be a little less pathetic.

Just then, the blue gate creaked open.

Harin's head whipped around, startled.

He'd come out at the sound of someone outside.

"Nu, noona."

Hayul's eyes met Harin's, then flicked warily to the tall figure standing beside her.

"Who, who is that?"

When Lee-gang's expressionless gaze dropped to the boy, Harin felt her stomach plummet.

She shoved her hand flat against his chest.

"That's enough. Go."

Maybe it was because Hayul was watching, but her words came out neither cold nor forceful. Just a voice scraped together at the edge of a cliff.

The atmosphere was strange enough that Hayul's eyes went round. Harin snatched her brother's wrist.

"Let's go inside."

She pushed Hayul through the gate first and stepped in after him. Then, breathing hard, she muttered under her breath.

"Filthy bastard."

Lee-gang was under no illusions about who that was aimed at.

The wariness brimming in her dark eyes vanished along with the sound of the gate clicking shut.

Harin stepped inside, the old floorboards creaking beneath her.

She couldn't shake the tension. His breath, his body heat—she could still feel them faintly lingering beneath her skin.

Shaking her head as if to dislodge the sensation, she glanced around the house—and her eyes landed on the bedding spread out in the middle of the main room.

"Hayul, did you lay this out for me?"

Imagining the boy scrambling around on his own to do it made her feel all the guiltier for coming home late and having drunk.

"Yeah. Wi-with Grandma. To, together."

"Good job."

When Harin smiled quietly as she lit the mosquito coil, Hayul hurriedly burrowed under his blanket, as if to say it was time to sleep.

"Noona."

"Mm?"

"Did you drink?"

"Why? Can you smell it?"

"Yeah."

"I'll wash up after you fall asleep. So hurry up and close your eyes."

The child giggled and shut them anyway. Perhaps he was happy to have his sister home—his lips, which had kept smacking restlessly, soon settled into soft, even breathing.

Harin watched Hayul in silence for a while, then pushed herself up, pressing a hand to her aching head.

She showered quickly, more splashing water on herself than washing, and came out with her eyes half-lidded with sleep.

She was lifting the edge of the blanket to lie down beside Hayul when she noticed, belatedly, a faint lamplight glowing from her grandmother's room.

Is she still awake?

She rose slowly and eased the door to the inner room open with care.

The room was awash in the warm glow of an orange lamp.

And there in the middle of it sat her grandmother, bedding spread beneath her, hunched over a pair of torn socks, mending them.

"Back now, are you?"

Grandma looked up. Her face seemed brighter than usual tonight, a faint smile spreading through the wrinkles until she looked positively gentle.

Harin felt as though she were dreaming.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?"

She stepped inside and carefully shut the door behind her.

"How's an old woman supposed to sleep when her girl hasn't come home?"

Uncertain what excuse to offer, Harin lowered herself awkwardly in front of her grandmother.

Grandma held out the needle and thread—a wordless request to thread it for her.

Harin flattened the end of the red thread and rolled it tight between her fingers.

"I've lived my full share. I could die tomorrow and no one would call it unfair. Why are you wearing yourself ragged looking after an old woman like me?"

"……When have I ever worn myself ragged?"

Harin avoided her grandmother's eyes and focused on the needle's point.

"All I want is for you to do well. Your mother and your father wanted exactly the same thing."

At the mention of her father, Harin's hands faltered—but only for a moment, before she passed the threaded needle back.

Grandma fixed her eyes on the sock again and went on sewing in silence.

Harin hesitated, lips parting and closing, before she finally worked up the nerve.

"Grandma—do you hate Dad?"

She'd always wondered. She asked with more seriousness than she'd intended, hoping her grandmother would answer honestly.

"He made Mom suffer—your daughter—and then he shacked up with someone else, and then he ran off and abandoned Hayul too."

Grandma met Harin's eyes.

"Hayul isn't even your blood grandson. When I brought him home, why didn't you say a single word against it?"

The tears welling in Harin's eyes glittered especially bright in the lamplight.

"You could blame him. Blame me too. We're the ones who put your daughter—and you—through all of it."

By contrast, the eyes that rested on Harin were calm and still. No sorrow. No anger. They belonged to someone who had made peace with everything.

"Stop cursing your father."

"……"

"He wasn't as bad a man as you think."

Grandma's words were firm, and carried a deep conviction.

"Hayul…… he's already grown up without a mother or father—it was always going to be hard on him. Sometimes you'll resent him, but don't hate him truly. If not for you, where would that boy go?"

Having said her piece with a troubled face, Grandma bowed her head again to her sewing.

"And you, Harin—don't carry too much responsibility for everything that's happening now."

Unable to actually lift her granddaughter's burdens, able only to offer comfort in words, her grandmother's profile looked unbearably sad.

Harin curled up where she sat, dropped her head, and rested her chin on her knees.

The room was warm. The orange lamplight was cozy. The bedding, thick with her grandmother's familiar smell, was comfortable.

For a strange moment, she thought that if she just fell asleep here beside her, maybe she could slip back to that dream-filled childhood she'd once had.

"Go on to bed. I'll sleep in a little while."

But Grandma shooed her out of the room.

Harin rose slowly and stepped outside. Lying down beside Hayul, she stared quietly at the yellow light still burning under her grandmother's door.

Then, eyelids heavy and blinking, she drifted softly into sleep.