Eighteen's Bed-Chapter 17.3: The Arrogant Accuser (3)

"What... is this."

What did I just hear?

Suddenly, I recalled visiting Han Junwoo’s hospital room. The strange atmosphere from that time began to make sense. Go Yohan’s oddly brazen demeanor, and Han Junwoo’s father, nervously watching. No way, it couldn’t be. I refused to interpret it. He’s just a high schooler. Go Yohan is just a high schooler.

"Ah, I remember now. That dumbass thing you said. The most ridiculous thing I heard at that dinner table."

Gorosa couldn’t hold back her anger. She bit her lip, letting out a frustrated groan, and then shouted so fiercely that veins stood out on her neck.

"What was it again? That he didn’t like crab? Oh, that’s right. Hey, you idiot. That bastard’s crazy about shellfish. He can finish off a whole crab or lobster in one sitting. Get a grip, you moron! You got played! That bastard’s a real psycho!"

The torrent of words—honestly, it scared me. And second, I thought it didn’t make sense. Go Yohan couldn’t be that calculating. Not with his personality.

"...No."

I was sure—Go Yohan was shunned by his family. I still believed it. Nothing had changed. It was just the avalanche of unbelievable claims over the past few days—opinions that shattered everything I thought I knew—that had me confused. That was all. So, to defend my own reasoning, I frantically searched for evidence to counter her words.

"It’s a lie."

Gorosa, breathless from her outburst, gritted her teeth and pressed a hand against her chest, swallowing her anger. She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them, her voice was calmer—just slightly.

"A lie? Are you stupid or just naive...?"

But Kang Jun was already swaying in the storm, and Gorosa was unwavering—utterly certain. That’s human nature. Sometimes, another person’s confidence can shake your beliefs like dry leaves in the wind.

"...But Go Yohan knew how to cook for himself, how to use the washing machine—he figured it all out alone."

"That’s so obvious it’s driving me crazy. He probably read the manual."

"......."

I couldn’t argue with that. When I searched my memory, I clearly recalled Go Yohan flipping through an instruction manual. My mind grew hazy. My head throbbed from the inside. I couldn’t think straight, and I pressed my palm against my forehead. Dizziness hit me. I leaned against the wall, feeling like I was about to collapse. Gorosa scoffed at the sight.

"Hah, it’s funny when you think about it. Did it never occur to you that not knowing how to do those things would be weirder? Scooping rice, taking side dishes from the fridge, washing dishes—everyone knows how to do that, don’t they?"

"...That’s... I..."

"Wait, don’t tell me you don’t know how? What, did you grow up wrapped in cotton wool? Wow, I bet Go Yohan had a blast making fun of you."

"No, it wasn’t... it didn’t feel like that..."

I hugged myself. That day—the atmosphere—it had been so strange. Go Yohan starving alone, that harmonious dinner table for four... And then, suddenly, it hit me.

"The living room cabinet!"

"What?"

"The glass cabinet in your living room—the one with your family photos."

"...Yeah, what about it?"

"There are a couple of photos with Go Yohan in them, right?"

"Why are you asking that all of a sudden? What about it?"

"Quickly!"

Gorosa’s face twisted into a look that screamed, ‘What the hell is wrong with this lunatic?’ It wasn’t her problem. I didn’t care. I was desperate.

"Two of them, right?"

Of course. Ha—I let out a laugh.

"Figures. Bet they threw them up in a hurry."

"What...? What are you even talking about?"

"The photos. When I checked earlier, there was only one."

The look she gave me was full of disdain—like she was wondering how someone could spout such an idiotic excuse. She was younger than me by a good margin, but still, for a brief, pathetic second, I felt some twisted sense of triumph. Over something so trivial. What a goddamn fool.

But she didn’t care. In fact, she smirked at me—like I was the joke here.

"Are you sure you weren’t just seeing what you wanted to see? Did you even look at the family photos properly?"

"What...?"

"You’re acting like you know something. But what do you actually know?"

Normally, I wouldn’t have reacted. I never would have. But this time—I did. My eyes darted around, and I started moving. Too fast. From the side, it must have looked strange, the way I rushed forward. As I reached the stairs, I glanced back at Gorosa for a split second—then bolted down.

She let me go. I stumbled past two people, their conversation a blur. I think—maybe—I made eye contact with Go Yohan’s mother. But I didn’t have the clarity to care. All I could do was stand, dumbfounded, before the glass cabinet, my back pressed against the large couch.

"No way... no... it can’t be."

I scanned the photos. Right shelf, left shelf, lower section, ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) upper section—my gaze swept across them all. And then—I froze.

It was a photo I hadn’t seen before.

Even that evening—it hadn’t been there.

A picture of a family of four, standing together, smiling for the camera.

"......."

And then it hit me.

Why hadn’t I wondered before—why there weren’t any group photos in a house like this?

The answer was at the edge of the frame.

The mirror—catching the reflection of the photographer.

And there he was.

Go Yohan.

Brightly smiling, flashing a V-sign with his fingers—childlike, carefree.

The world cracked apart. The sounds of conversation splintered. The floor beneath my feet felt like an illusion—a mirage of stepping stones, leading nowhere, ready to collapse under me.

I don’t even know how I got back. I just kept walking—somehow, somewhere—and when I did, Gorosa was there. Arms crossed. As if she had followed me.

"That kid—he’s pathologically desperate to stand out."

"......."

"Even when they took that damn photo—he made a whole scene."

Sarcastic jeers stabbed through my head.

Yet, that sneer—oddly—felt like the only lifeline. The only thread of truth in this illusion. My eyes were probably empty. I could tell—because the moment Gorosa saw my face, hers twisted in disgust.

"Was it always..."

My throat clenched tight, like burning hands were choking me. I kneaded my neck hard, forcing the words out.

"Was he always like that?"

"Who, Go Yohan? Ha. That bastard’s been a dipshit since birth. Greedy, always wanting things out of his league. If he can’t get them, he just gives up—pretending he never wanted them in the first place. And all the while, lurking. Watching. Creeping."

Suddenly, Gorosa burst out laughing. A sharp, out-of-nowhere laugh. I stared blankly at her. She covered her mouth mid-laugh, glanced sideways at me, and said:

"Want to hear something really funny?"

"...What?"

"Do you know what his biggest complex is?"

The fact that I was even curious—about Go Yohan’s complex—was laughable. Still, I couldn’t help but take her seriously. So, after some thought, I offered what seemed most likely:

"...That he likes guys?"

"No. That his IQ’s lower than mine."

"......."

"I’m 137. Go Yohan? 119, I think. I used to roast him about it when we were kids. ‘Your brain’s in critical condition—hell, even the world knows it.’ And, oh, that smug bastard’s face would turn bright red. Pfft. He had ADHD too. Took a lot of work to fix that."

"......."

"He’d rather die than admit it. I bet no one knows. Oh, and get this—he’s smart, sure, but his empathy’s trash. He can’t think from anyone else’s perspective. Makes you wonder if he’s a textbook sociopath. They say sociopaths thrive in society because of that, you know?"

Gorosa glanced toward where the adults were gathered and smirked. Her soft chuckling buzzed through the air like background music. And my brain—maybe my circuits had fried. I felt nothing but a hollow void. Empty thoughts. No matter how hard I tried to force something out, every word I found was pathetic.

"He told me... his parents wouldn’t pay for his tutoring."

"Tutoring? Why the hell would he do that? He hates hard work. He only worships geniuses."

"But... he studied with all those weird books..."

A scornful laugh cracked the air. Confused, I looked at her—and met Gorosa’s eyes, brimming with ridicule.

"You’re so clueless. That was all for show. A damn act. His way of feeding his ego—playing like he’s above it all. Don’t you get it? He did it to hide his limits. To fake being effortless."

"Even his dad... always talked down to him."

"Well, yeah. With grades and a personality like his, who wouldn’t?"

"But... that’s not... If he hated him, then why would your parents help him?"

"Depends on the person, doesn’t it? If they hated him so much, why would my mom and dad help him?"

"...What?"

"Ah... Shit. I wasn’t supposed to say that."

Her small foot scuffed the floor. Gorosa hesitated briefly, then, with a tiny shrug, muttered to herself:

"Whatever. I’m not wrong anyway."

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Before I could ask what she meant, she grabbed my arm and dragged me to the end of the hallway—somewhere empty. Somewhere alone.

"Feels like I’m playing the part of some bystander sister-in-law."

"Bystander sister-in-law?"

"Do you know why my dad’s so nice to you?"

"...No."

Honestly, I never understood it. Was it my grades? My family? If that were the case, shouldn’t he favor his own firstborn son? Looking back—why me? Why was it me?

"Because you’re the perfect person to dump Go Yohan onto."

"...What?"

"Seriously, why’d you pity him? With that brain, that face, and that family."

Gorosa’s brows dipped slightly—mock pity. And—ironically—it looked just like Go Yohan, when he was performing.

"So... what you’re saying is... they’re just passing him off. So they don’t like him—"

"Would you pawn off someone you hate on the best person you could find? My dad’s not like most people. Then again... he’s the kind of person who’d end up with a kid like Go Yohan."

"......."

"That night... That pathetic stunt you pulled—that’s why he cared about you more. You didn’t know, did you? I bet Go Yohan doesn’t either. He has no clue why my dad dotes on you so much. He doesn’t realize he’s just being shoved around, dumped anywhere convenient. Only I know. Only I figured it out."

Gorosa’s eyes brimmed with pride. She was subtly bragging about her intelligence. And at that moment, I realized—they really were siblings.

There was nothing more to say. My mind went blank—white, as if a flashbang had gone off. I couldn’t even see the small face right in front of me. Hell, I could barely stand.

"......."

It was all a lie.

It took me half a year to see it.

I wanted to believe in Go Yohan. And at the same time, I rejected the truth that I’d been played. I blinked hard, trying to erase this unbearable reality. Even hit my head with my fist a few times. But nothing changed. Sarcasm kept pouring out from somewhere ahead of me, but I couldn’t process it. My brain had shut out everything.

Go Yohan was a pitiful child. But not because he was outcasted. No—because his life was a trail of scars from chasing affection he never knew how to give himself.

My mind numbed. I leaned my head against the wall. And, like a machine, I spoke:

"Go Yohan likes me."

No thought—just a desperate reach for something, anything true.

"Was that a lie too?"

Was it a joke? Just another game to humiliate me? Was my life just some plaything to him—a liar who only found joy standing above others? Everything blurred with doubt. And that—more than anything—felt hopeless. So, I clung to the only rope I had left. Maybe I was more desperate than I’d ever admit.

"Should you really be telling me that?" Gorosa’s voice was cold, sharp with amusement. "Loose lips, huh."

The rope snapped. Or... maybe he’d cut it himself before I could even grab hold.

"But—seeing how violently you acted, doesn’t it cross your mind? What if it was just... for fun? Just for kicks. I mean—why even think so hard? Is it that deep? You could just cut him off and be done with it. Or... wait. Are you shocked by what I said? Why? What, you wanna live as a gay guy too? Don’t tell me... you like Go Yohan?"

I couldn’t answer. My tongue felt frozen, stiff in my mouth. Seeing my silence, Gorosa clicked her tongue in disgust.

"Tch. Jesus. You seriously like him, don’t you?"

"......."

"And here I was wondering why you, of all people—guess the puzzle pieces snapped right into place."

Her words washed over me—distant, meaningless. Somewhere, a temple bell rang. Deng— The chime shattered me completely. My thoughts collapsed into rubble.

"Ah... uh, wait. I—" My voice stuttered, breaking apart. "I’m... heading home. Just... tell your mom... later..."

Gorosa’s face twisted—so distorted, it was almost comical. Like my words were the most absurd garbage she’d ever heard. Her black eyes, cold and cutting, scanned me from head to toe, as if measuring every inch of my humiliation. And in that gaze—raw and unfiltered—I felt the unbearable weight of it all. I hated it. I hated everything about this house.

The world turned black, then yellow, then spun. My words—unfinished—scattered mid-air. Only my body spun with them, staggering off balance.

"Just... wait."

Every step felt like I was walking through a storm. My hands moved aimlessly, raking through my hair, tangling it into a messy, static-filled halo. My reflection flashed across a glass door—pathetic. So utterly miserable.

I stumbled forward, knowing the living room—and his mother—were just beyond, but I didn’t care. Not now.

I slammed into the front door. Without thought, without reason, I pounded the button like I was trying to break it.

The door opened—finally—after a series of fumbling, useless jabs. And with it—came the deafening chorus of cicadas.

A crushing heat flooded down from above, searing my scalp. The ground shimmered, rippling like it might flip over.

"This... doesn’t even..."

This feeling—I knew it. The same as back then.

That gut-wrenching foreboding.

Like when Han Taesan snapped at Han Junwoo for the first time. The haze—the shimmer in the air—always came before the world collapsed.

Inside my skull—a wasteland. Ruins. Only the foundation remained—a blank slate, and something building fast atop it. Something raw. Something blinding.

My fist clenched—tight enough to split skin. I stared down the wall, my vision burning, my eyes screaming from the pressure. But I didn’t care.

"You fucking bastard..."

My whole hand trembled, knuckles buzzing, ready to break. Tears—hot and stinging—rushed down my cheeks, tracing their burning path until they dripped off my chin.

"Crazy son of a bitch."

Six months. It took me six months to finally step back from the microscope. To stop staring at Go Yohan from up close—like some specimen on a slide—and finally see him from a distance.

And there he was.

Contained.

Sealed inside a flask.

Smaller than I’d ever imagined.

Pathetic.

And it was all thanks to the tiniest, most unexpected leak—the one I never saw coming.