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Sungchan was the kind of guy you could never really tell what was going on in his head. He walked around gesturing in a kind of weird way, and he’d stare at Eunseok from the corners of the garden with a smug smile on his face. At first, Eunseok was scared of him, but as the years went by, it became pretty clear that he just couldn’t be normal.
Anyone who saw the two of them together would assume they were a couple, which always left Eunseok’s head spinning. The punches he had taken to the face from him back in childhood were never forgotten, he held onto them with deep resentment. But despite everything, Eunseok doesn’t completely blame Sungchan. After all, if there’s anyone alive in the garden these days, that person inevitably becomes a victim.
Truth be told, Eunseok felt sorry for everyone who lived there but especially for Sungchan. He didn’t know what Sungchan liked: what he liked to eat, his favorite color or flower, his biggest fear, or even who his best friend was. And that always felt strange, especially since they were constantly together somewhere (against Eunseok’s will), and yet nothing ever seemed to go right, no matter what it was Sungchan was trying to do with him at the time.
Eunseok was a kid who lost his patience easily, and being forced to watch another young soul belittle him, making it seem like all the time he had poured into chasing his dreams meant nothing frustrated him more than anything else. Their encounters always ended in insults or violence. Eunseok had been scolded more times than he could count because of Sungchan, always for the same reason: trying to defend himself from the needless slaps of that annoying bowl-cut kid.
Adolescence wasn’t much different. Sungchan was always there, every single day, ready to push his buttons with those endless provocations. The others who lived with them were just as afraid of both of them. Eunseok never really understood what Sungchan wanted from him. Sometimes he wondered if maybe he was the one to blame, not Sungchan. But that thought always faded the moment Sungchan started picking on him again, in that same irritating way.
Over time, Sungchan became the only friend Eunseok had made in the garden, and that made him feel weak. Foolish. Easy to fool. He held on to grudges but never stopped Sungchan. It was as if hurting each other physically or emotionally had become some kind of twisted game they both played.
Whenever Eunseok’s eyes landed on Sungchan, his stomach would twist, and he never knew if it was from anger, jealousy, or something else entirely. As much as he wanted to keep his distance, that clingy, irritating presence of the younger boy didn’t feel quite as unbearable as it used to.
It took a long time for the feeling of compassion to grow louder than hatred. It didn’t matter how many people had to warn him, kill, or die for him to realize that everyone there was destined for the same end. In the beginning, Eunseok had been the kind of person who was harsh and vindictive toward Sungchan. If their lives were meant to end suddenly, without warning, then better it be worse for Sungchan.
Now, they had grown up. And now, that moment seemed close though not in the way they had expected.
In a world where humans were treated like animals and merchandise, Eunseok had always known his end would be tragic, unjust, and irrelevant in the minds of those belonging to the superior species.
Sungchan was looking at him in a way he didn’t see very often. They stood face to face, locked in a duel to see who could entertain the crowd below the stage better. The rest of the young ones, locked away in the garden, watched everything through the screen in the common room.
Eunseok had thought he wasn’t, but he was more afraid of death than anyone else in that place. His eyes could barely rest on Sungchan’s melancholic figure, clutching the microphone with a racing heart, overwhelmed by the roar of people screaming for his voice.
He wished he could be a part of Sungchan’s brain and know everything he was thinking right now, because the darkness in his eyes left Eunseok with a doubt he suspected would never be resolved.
Would you want to die like this, Jung Sungchan?
The score kept rising every second, and the thunderous music blasting through the arena’s speakers made Eunseok’s vocal cords retreat deeper inside his body. He couldn’t sing his part once again.
Sungchan noticed and kept using the microphone.
Eunseok was going to die.
Why was Sungchan doing this? How well did Sungchan know him to act this way? Was he afraid of the security guards? His body weakened by the second; Eunseok was losing to him.
Raindrops fell on their heads. Eunseok’s face was turned downward, staring at his own shoes. By the end of the tournament, one of them would be the target of assassins, but Eunseok believed it was not right for Sungchan to die because of him.
Now it was clear: Sungchan had done all this to save his own skin, even after everything he had done and pulled on him just for fun.
The truth Eunseok would never know was that Sungchan didn’t feel just envy toward him. From the very beginning, fear and passion, mixed with the burning rage of jealousy, had consumed his entire being.
The music was nearing its end, and they could barely hold onto their microphones anymore. Their clothes, soaked through with water, would soon be stained with blood instead.
Eunseok and Sungchan had been raised from an early age to fight, no matter what feelings they might have. It didn’t matter who their opponent was, the enemy’s life would be taken without hesitation. After all, they were among the few who truly held value in the eyes of the crowd.
But what happens when two friends face each other in a duel? What should Sungchan value more: his heart or his reason?
The anger of unrequited love screamed louder than anything else, and the frustration of feeling inferior to Eunseok in every way, from his own perspective, weighed heavily on him. So, it was better to let Eunseok shine completely more than him, once and for all.
Only one person could have space in the arena of song.
If Sungchan was going to lose, he wanted to see Eunseok win until the very end.
“Do you remember what I told you a few years ago, about the arena?” His hands wrapped around Eunseok’s neck, whose body was just a few centimeters from the edge of the stage, a height that could be considered enormous. “I asked you never to match me. I don’t remember exactly why, but now I’m sure that we really are different.”
Eunseok couldn’t bring himself to look down at the edge of the stage. The shock was so overwhelming that tears wouldn’t fall from his eyes, his focus fixed on watching Sungchan sabotage himself right in front of him, so that only Eunseok could survive.
“S-Sungchan...”
“You can’t depend on anyone, Eunseok. You can’t save the world, but you can get out of here.” A gentle smile formed on Sungchan’s lips, like a farewell. “No matter how much you grow, your heart is still too innocent to try and beat them.”
“L-let me go...”
The music ended, and the sound of the gunshot echoed throughout the place. Sungchan had lost the strength to keep his grip on Eunseok’s neck, his vision blurring as he staggered to the side.
The blood was mixing with the saliva in his mouth and running down his lips, the clothes on his body were being painted red by himself, the very puddle that was being formed.
"Eunseok... please..." Sungchan struggled against the lack of oxygen and the intense pain in his wounded skin. "please live. Win without fear of failure."
And that was the last thing he said before the second shot ended the duet.
On the big screen above the stage, a large letter lit up the entire place:
Eunseok wins.
And that was how Sungchan chose to let ignorance guide his actions instead of empathy.
The world around Eunseok reacted in a way completely different from his own. Sungchan had died for him, because of him, with a smile on his face.
If it wasn’t out of selfishness, then what had been the point of coming this far? How could Eunseok fulfill Sungchan’s final wish without guilt invading his mind?
There was one thing he was certain of: the room where they had lived since childhood would never be visited by him again. Not now, when the stains of the past were about to chase him through the end of his grief.
The arena lights were fading slowly, and the crowd dispersed in silence.
By the end of the night, only the two of them remained on the stage, still open to the falling rain.
Sungchan had not allowed his hatred to hurt anyone but himself.
And Eunseok, in turn, didn’t want his emotional pain to harm anyone who didn’t deserve to carry it.