Siblings Working in Business (212)
Personally, he didn’t like alcohol.
How should he explain it…?
You had to drink it to appreciate the taste, but even the smell made him dizzy.
Since he lost his senses before he could even taste it, it was a relationship he couldn’t form.
He also disliked it because of the alcohol he drank before the regression, mostly hard liquor like whiskey and vodka, or cheap soju.
But even he, a lightweight, had a soft spot for one type of alcohol.
Eun-ho stared at the deep purple liquid in front of him.
Wine.
Especially the one Tae-hyun was holding.
The rich aroma of grapes and subtle floral notes that wafted from the bottle the moment the cork was pulled was tempting, even for someone who couldn’t drink.
It practically screamed luxury, how could he not be tempted?
But Tae-hyun, seemingly having no intention of sharing, only gave him grape juice.
‘100% juice…’
Eun-ho found some comfort in the large percentage printed on the carton.
And because of something Tae-hyun said as he poured the grape juice into a wine glass, Eun-ho couldn’t bring himself to ask, “Can I have a sip…?”, even though he wanted to.
「“You have to go home before lunch tomorrow. Eun-ji will be worried.”」
He looked up and saw that Tae-hyun had already emptied three wine bottles.
‘This hurts my pride…’
Eun-ho knew himself.
He had no confidence in waking up before lunch tomorrow if he drank all that wine.
So…
Eun-ho obediently sipped his grape juice and dipped a piece of steak from the salad into it.
His initial dissatisfaction melted away at the flavor of the steak.
As they continued their meal…
Eun-ho suddenly stopped, his eyes fixed on something.
At the edge of the spacious island counter…
A small, white, translucent medicine packet lay in the middle of a rolled-up placemat. A small, round, white pill was visible next to the word “Night” printed in pink.
Next to it were a pink pill and a slightly larger, peach-colored pill.
He recognized the medication.
He had taken them every day for almost a year after Eun-ji’s death, before the regression, when he was pretending to be fine.
Physical ailments weren’t the only kind of illness.
Sometimes, mental illnesses could be more debilitating and destructive.
Just as you went to the hospital when you were physically sick, you went to a psychiatrist when your mind was sick.
Antidepressants.
Antianxiety medication.
They were the same.
Just like medicine from a regular hospital, like cold medicine, like painkillers…
They helped ease his mental pain, helped him get out of bed, kept him from drowning in alcohol, and helped him feel alive again.
But just as a cold could return if you didn’t take care of yourself, even after the symptoms subsided with medication, mental illnesses were the same.
So he took them regularly.
The psychiatric clinic he went to was decorated similarly to CEO Park’s office, unlike the large hospital Eun-ji had been admitted to.
Of course, at first, he couldn’t even bring himself to enter the clinic, so the doctor had met him at a cafe.
It seemed comical now, but…
He must have been that unwell back then.
He knew the reason.
Who else could it be?
‘That ugly brat is the only one.’
Although he said that, Eun-ji was his only family.
His companion, his friend, she was a part of him.
He cherished her more than himself; she was who he wanted to be.
So, although he had to let her go, he didn’t want to.
He stubbornly clung to her, even as he was rotting from the inside.
Taking the medication felt like suppressing his emotions, forcing him into a state of calmness.
He was grateful, but at the same time, he hated it.
The doctor understood, saying there were people like that, but he hated even that understanding back then.
He didn’t know why, but he did.
Perhaps that’s why they called it an ‘illness.’
“…”
Tae-hyun, putting down his wine glass, noticed Eun-ho staring at the medicine packet.
Tae-hyun, thinking Eun-ho was simply curious, briefly explained,
“It’s just… medication from a psychiatrist.”
“I know.”
Eun-ho, still looking at the medicine packet, smiled wryly.
He meant there was no need to explain, and fortunately, Tae-hyun seemed to understand, chuckling and taking another sip of wine.
Seeing the bottom of the bottle, he refilled his glass.
Tae-hyun was like the sturdy Warlord in Formica, seemingly capable of withstanding anything.
But even he was human.
As the eldest member of Toxin, he must have bottled up a lot of emotions, unable to share them with his fellow members.
Hadn’t TaKa Entertainment released articles accusing him of ‘unregistered car fraud’ to keep Toxin from leaving?
He must have been devastated when he first saw the articles.
On TV…
To the public…
They had to maintain a dignified composure, even while being constantly judged and scrutinized, because they had to be seen.
Honestly, it was the same even if you weren’t a celebrity.
As humans, we were constantly evaluating and being evaluated.
The only difference was how high the standards were.
We were always judging others, and still are.
But judging others individually was fine.
It was a problem you could solve by improving yourself, by enduring, by doing your best.
The problem arose when your actions negatively affected the people you cared about.
Whether financially, emotionally, or otherwise.
That ‘guilt’ was a sharp weapon. Something insignificant to others could become a source of self-doubt, ‘Is this my fault?,’ the moment you questioned yourself.
It created unexpected cracks in your seemingly impenetrable heart, like the collapsing ceiling in Formica.
By the time you regained your senses, the damage was already done.
“Hyung-nim, you’re human too.”
“…Of course, I am.”
Tae-hyun, as if understanding Eun-ho’s attempt at comfort, chuckled and asked,
“Do you know what kind of medication that is?”
“…Can’t sleep at night, don’t want to sleep, but at the same time, want to sleep. Want to die, but have to live.”
“Haha…”
“Everything feels like it’s going to kill you, filled with anxiety, but you have to live. It’s a lifeline when you’re desperately trying to hang on.”
“…”
“When you’re so anxious and depressed that you can’t even move, it’s more effective than IV drips or any other medication.”
Eun-ho tapped his head with his index finger and smiled.
“Haha, yeah. You know a lot.”
Because it was his story.
Eun-ho didn’t elaborate.
But that was enough for Tae-hyun to understand that Eun-ho had also taken that medication.
It was that kind of medication.
Wanting to die…
Not wanting to live…
But wanting to live…
Even he couldn’t explain the contradiction.
Because that’s how he felt.
Dozens, hundreds, thousands of times a day…
He would swing between anxiety and suicidal thoughts, his emotions unpredictable.
But when he actually resolved to die, he would feel a surge of resentment and want to live again.
In games, even if your character died, you could always revive it.
Even in games where you couldn’t revive, you could buy a new game, or a new computer.
With enough money, you could always start over.
Create a new character, a new story.
But reality was a one-time deal.
He couldn’t bear to lose this one chance because of others, his body too precious to waste.
It wasn’t just because of the fake unregistered car scandal.
It was everything that had piled up.
The fake articles, the malicious articles that highlighted the negative, even if they were true.
The hateful comments.
The excessive, over-the-line posts.
The subtly mocking comments.
‘Ah, and there was that too.’
The album they poured their hearts and souls into, pushing their exhausted bodies to the limit…
All they got in return was ramen noodles, barely able to make ends meet, despite their name change from Sedative.
Many claimed to have seen and heard their music, but it was strange.
According to Ye-chan’s investigation, their creations, their children, were being traded without their knowledge, under different names.
「That part was disappointing lol」
「This song is a bit lacking」
「I’m glad I didn’t pay for this, I almost wasted my points lol」
「At least the ending should have been like—」
Seeing their work being judged and discussed without their knowledge…
No matter how many positive words followed, all he could think was, ‘Fuck this.’
It was disgusting to see them justifying it, saying they were helping them gain recognition.
He wanted to shout, ‘Who asked you?!’
Then there was the ‘fan’ who approached them, claiming to have listened to their music a lot, but turned out to be an illegal downloader who disregarded the value of their creations.
That was the cause of their financial struggles.
Their CEO mocked them for their meager album sales, saying, “One of you should just die so I can sell your story.”
There were many ways to enjoy things legitimately, paying the price, even if not with money.
Not doing so…
‘Was just laziness.’
Being a student, not having money…
Those were just excuses.
Sharing…
Enduring…
Letting things go…
Those were things only those who had something could do.
They, who were struggling, couldn’t afford to.
Even if they could, they didn’t want to.
All of this had driven them to the brink of death.
He, at least, still hadn’t recovered.
Whenever he felt depressed, even during practice, he would question, ‘Why am I even doing this?’
‘It’s a good thing Ye-chan is the leader of Toxin.’
He didn’t have the strength to lead a team like him.
All he could do was support them.
Ye-chan was amazing.
A relentless man who made their dreams a reality.
That was Ji Ye-chan.
「“Guys, we have to do this. We have to change this shitty industry. It has to be a better place for our juniors, so we can last longer!”」
At the start of that long project, he hid messages throughout their songs, praising those who genuinely enjoyed their creations.
Genuine, who knows the value
That’s my lover
the love of my life
Then, with Toxin’s third album…
Ye-chan finally executed his crazy plan.
He was so disgusted by the thieves mocking genuine fans for being “stupid”…
…that he plastered the album cover with lawsuits against illegal downloaders and distributors for violating copyright laws and various other regulations.
Despite fierce opposition and obstruction from TaKa Entertainment, there was only one person who trusted and supported Toxin and championed their plan.
Team Leader Park Chang-seok, the head of the planning team at the time.
「“You can do it. I believe in you.”」
Although there was a lot of ridicule…
The result of that trust was ‘success.’
They shook the Korean music industry, raising awareness about the value of creative works and copyright laws.
When he wanted to die, he endured because of that experience.
When you first start playing a game, you’re like Eun-ho today, clueless and helpless.
But if you persevere, there will come a time when it becomes second nature.
You just had to endure and change.
He couldn’t change his surroundings back then, no matter how hard it was.
But he eventually saw the light.
Even without seeing the light…
The ‘experience’ of surviving…
…became the light itself.
Although many of his colleagues, unable to bear the pain, had left… as Eun-ho said…
They were human too.
Didn’t they also want to live?
But he didn’t want to lose to those who had already taken so many lives.
There were times when he wanted to close his eyes, hating everything…
But that experience…
The genuine support from the fans who loved and championed Toxin and their message… had kept him, and them, going.
Even now.
He was still…
…enduring.
‘I have to live.’
Tae-hyun quietly refilled his empty wine glass.