Theatrical Regression Life

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“Whatever it may be.”

“…”

Whatever it may be, he said.

In response, Jung Inho asked as a matter of course.

“…Are you talking about threats or murder?”

“Well…”

His tone was casual.

Even though he used extreme words like murder and threats, Lee Jaehun’s face remained largely unchanged.

But the most unethical word Jung Inho could think of was that. In a world where lives were pawned for money instead of blood, and where a few words on a white piece of paper could seal one’s fate, he couldn’t fathom what else Director Lee Jaehun could possibly do.

Although his answer was ambiguous, his tone was clear, so Jung Inho could tell that his statement of being willing to do anything wasn’t a slip of the tongue. Otherwise, such a casual tone wouldn’t have been possible.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

‘…Is he dangerous?’

Ultimately, Jung Inho redefined Director Lee Jaehun as a ‘dangerous person.’

He didn’t know how much time Director Lee Jaehun had spent in the underworld, but judging by his familiar actions and demeanor, it didn’t seem like a short time. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to think that he had shed all traces of humanity during that time.

However, Jung Inho believed that regardless of the situation, some basic ethics must be upheld. Therefore, he couldn’t trust someone who said they would spare even a murderer as needed. In a world where anyone could die without it being considered abnormal, and considering he didn’t particularly like Director Lee Jaehun to begin with, it was understandable.

Yet, when he looked at that casual and pale face, Jung Inho couldn’t help but swallow a question. Despite his calm demeanor, the clear voice resonated in his ears like newly shattered fragments.

“…”

Under the chilly canopy where not a single breeze stirred, amidst the sound of the collapsing forest. His breath caught for a moment in the silently falling stillness.

In the end, he could only pose one question.

“…In that case.”

“Yes.”

In that case,

Just in case.

Jung Inho hoped that his response would be delayed as much as possible.

“If, hypothetically, Director, if someone’s death were to solve our problems more effectively…”

“They should die.”

He bit his lip.

“…”

Otherwise, he felt he wouldn’t be able to contain his cursing.

Jung Inho prayed that there wouldn’t be the slightest change in his expression. Due to his instinctual aversion to Director Lee Jaehun, he didn’t want to reveal any weakness in front of him, at least not consciously.

But he couldn’t be as nonchalant as the other.

‘…He could die.’

It was a conversation about his own death, of all things.

Of course, Jung Inho knew to some extent that Director Lee Jaehun lacked enthusiasm for life. If someone who self-harmed their arms and neck were in their right mind, it would be even more surprising.

But still, Jung Inho had many things he wanted to say.

From the beginning, Director Lee Jaehun was someone who continued living even through unbecoming acting, so there must have been a reason befitting him. It meant there must have been a reason for him to live like that.

So at least, mentioning death should have evoked some emotion. Whether he clung to life desperately or simply awaited the day of slaughter like a lamb, some degree of anger or joy should have been shown. At least, if he had lived as a human being.

Yet, Director Lee Jaehun simply gave a bland answer.

“That’s efficiency.”

In a tired, mechanical voice.

As if he were handling tasks at work…

“…”

For a moment, he couldn’t find a response. He was a person in a form he had never seen before, like we were swallowed up by the underworld.

Unconsciously, Jung Inho thought.

Perhaps all of this was somewhat ordinary to him. It didn’t need to be feared beyond a certain point because it was part of life, and if he did feel fear, it would be considered shameful.

It was just that everything seemed so natural and worthless to him. Even if the subject were himself, it held no significance. Whether it was a hole in the throat, a severed leg, or a decaying ankle, it all amounted to the same. Director Lee Jaehun didn’t attribute any great meaning to his own pain.

Finally, Jung Inho twisted his lips.

“Ha.”

That’s how his lips twisted.

If Director Lee Jaehun had been extreme in his fairness, it would have been better.

If he inherently had a bad personality, didn’t care about others’ lives and pain, and thus underestimated even his own worth, it would have been more understandable.

But that wasn’t the case.

‘You’re going to die again.’

Before regressing, Jung Inho remembered how Director Lee Jaehun died.

He was holding onto the mossy monster.

Even with his throat pierced by teeth resembling thorns, he didn’t release his grip on the vine-covered hand, nor did he let go of the blood-soaked pipe with his twisted leg. He never once begged to save himself, but during my dying moments, he wanted to save someone else instead of me.

How could someone like that kill another person?

‘It doesn’t make sense.’

He wasn’t someone who could intimidate, torture, or oppress others like that.

If he could have done that from the start, before regressing, Director Lee Jaehun should have been the first to run away from us. There was no need for him to lead us, enduring silent curses and distrust from the company. How could someone who had suffered so much for those who scorned and hated him now be in such a state?

But Director Lee Jaehun stayed with us until the end, protecting us. The vivid memory of him asking to save the other companions even as he was dying haunted my clear eyes.

So,

“…”

If you wanted to say something like that, you shouldn’t have died like that.

‘I should have just left everything and run away.’

With his cunning skills, he could have turned some of us into bait or thrown us in front of the monster as decoys.

Director Lee Jaehun had the ability and motive to do so. There was no reason for him to endure protecting companions who didn’t trust or like him from the start.

We also had no right to cling to him for salvation. If Director Lee Jaehun had wanted, he could have easily gotten rid of them.

In that moment, Jung Inho felt that the current situation had become too absurd.

“…Is that a joke too?”

Who else but the person who had played ‘Director Lee Jaehun’ all this time. Ultimately, he was still acting for his own purposes even in this situation.

Even though he would just end up dying again if necessary.

“Are you hoping it’s a joke?”

“Your tone has changed again. No, well…”

“…Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”

It was a lie.

‘I don’t really need to keep it in mind.’

Jung Inho couldn’t help but let out a faint smile. His throat was itchy.

In fact, upon reflection, Director Lee Jaehun’s actions so far had seemed consistent with pretending. He subtly tried to hand over the initiative to Jung Inho several times, avoided leading the team according to his own opinions, and deliberately showed such behavior multiple times to make his teammates dislike him.

Of course, Director Lee Jaehun had warned that he would do anything if necessary, and while that statement wasn’t necessarily false, according to Jung Inho’s thoughts, it wasn’t 100% true either. There were omitted pieces of information between the lines, and he had no intention of disclosing them. It was because Jung Inho, the most useful member of the team, had guarded against him.

So, exactly, it would have been, ‘I’ll do anything based on my sacrifice.’

‘Otherwise, it wouldn’t fit the context.’

Jung Inho adjusted his expression back to a composed form.

“…My expression doesn’t exactly convey ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ JungInho-ssi.”

“I always keep your words in my heart, Director. Please don’t be too disappointed, Director.”

“Hey, let me see that thick skin of yours.”

“Hahaha…”

I still don’t know why he’s keeping his distance from the team. Even if it’s because he dislikes us, if he truly hated us, his physical condition wouldn’t be like this.

Director Lee Jaehun kept his promise to tell us what we wanted to know, but he hardly talked about himself. His behavior of constantly trying to appear unlikeable to others seemed to fit into this context. It seemed like he was still acting as if he were the old-fashioned director from the company.

Jung Inho maintained the smile he usually wore and slowly spoke up.

“…Thank you for answering my question.”

“…”

“Thanks to you, the situation seems a bit clearer now.”

Some irritation seemed to arise from that response, as Director Lee Jaehun furrowed his brows and quickly averted his gaze. It was a habit he sometimes showed when responding to someone in the company.

But really, what’s so funny to warrant that reaction?

‘People can be so irrational.’

When it came to prioritizing efficiency, all the pain and difficulty ended up falling on him.

So he’d gladly take the blame from others. If someone got hurt, he’d stand in front and take the hit instead. If someone had to die, he was the one who would offer his life so nonchalantly.

Because, that’s what he believed was right.

‘It’s only natural, isn’t it?’

My mouth felt dry.

Beyond good and evil, that’s just the way life is, and what’s considered common sense. Director Lee Jaehun would live his life like that forever. I couldn’t even imagine fixing such an unreasonable mindset.

“…Are you really okay?”

“What now?”

“You may have brushed it off, but you were coughing up blood. Even if I don’t know much, I know that’s serious.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s just a nosebleed, reflux, whatever you call it. Got it?”

“You’re always lying.”

I felt disheartened.

When did I start living with such thoughts?

Despite appearing tough to everyone else, the one who was most strict was himself. According to Director Lee Jaehun’s arguments, he should have demanded to show the same results to the team as he did to himself.

Maybe it’s just stupidity, but Director Lee Jaehun seemed so malicious that I couldn’t even bring myself to ask if he had a screw loose.

‘So it’s twisted, not ignorance.’

On one hand, I knew it, but I judged my twisted thoughts to be more correct. Even if I grimaced at others’ pain, I’d blink at my own.

“I’ve said it before, I never push myself too hard. Don’t you know my personality? Would I have kept quiet if I was really hurting?”

“…”

“So… don’t worry about it. You must be tired enough as it is. When you reach this age, you should manage your mental state yourself.”

For a brief moment, I swallowed my words.

“I really don’t know.”

My breath caught gently.

Director Lee Jaehun undoubtedly didn’t know how miserably he died.

If he knew who he died for and how, he wouldn’t act so foolishly. There was no way he’d act so unconvincingly, at least not to Jung Inho.

Such intense loneliness gnawed at his entire being.

“Okay.”

I spoke up.

The two bodies stained red, the twisted figure decapitated by the monster. I remembered the charred pieces of meat and the black darkness that stained my feet rather than witnessing it.

I recalled the eyes of the leopards that stared at me, devoid of warmth, and the eyes of the murderer who barely escaped death. I remember the flickering eyes of the flame about to extinguish. And then, with a bright flash.

“So… that’s why….”

A piece of glass pierced my ear.

“I’ll continue to rely on you in the future.”

“…”

“Director.”

In reality, perhaps there was nothing that couldn’t be changed.

Nothing.

* * *

Rustle…

At the sound of the bushes moving without wind, I suddenly lifted my head and looked up at the sky.

“…”

Black-and-white leaves on dry branches without a single drop of water gathered like a swarm of ants.

The pitch-black, intricately woven sky with countless unseen stars. The colorless leaves pretending to be the sky looked down on us, covering the entire world.

They sway gently.

“Kang Mina-ssi?”

“Yes.”

My stomach churned.

It’s a nauseating world.

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