There was no response for a moment. His facial muscles seemed to flinch, and soon the stalker raised one side of his mouth to smile.

“What about you?”

It was an obvious sneer.

“You think you’re anything different?”

Lewellyn was a hunter. It wasn’t the hunter’s job to kill people recklessly. That was what the butcher did. He remembered that. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to endure it and would defy Shavonne’s request not to kill or traffic him.

“Let’s wait and see.”

When he let go of his hair, the stalker was released. The stalker’s body fell to the floor helplessly, as if he had no room to recover himself. Lewellyn tried to break his leg so that he couldn’t run away.

He looked over the stalker. Face, tongue, eyes, fingers and ears… Before he left the apartment, Shavonne told him not to kill or traffic him. That was all. He didn’t say anything about making him a cripple.

He unbuttoned his sleeves and took off his watch. He could vaguely see the hands of his watch, but it was 3:27 a.m. There was still time before dawn. Not bad.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to see it.”

As always, mercy wasn’t a skill he had.

***

The world was dark.

Until now, the lights were turning on intermittently, but seeing that that wasn’t the case now, the gas light’s life seemed to be at its end. Shavonne was greatful because that mean he wouldn’t have to face the murderer. Shavonne might follow the gas lamp to the afterlife in less than ten minutes, though.

Before dying, Shavonne had a question.

“So…”

Shavonne started talking.

“I invited a murderer?”

“Right.”

Lewellyn was smiling.

“A young, handsome and cute serial killer who likes you very much.”

The person he invited home for the first time in his 29 years that he could have kept it a secret (unfortunately) was a murderer. Shavonne thought he was unlucky. Really.

Shavonne dated a total of 29 people over the past 8 years. They had various jobs as the number wasn’t small, but it was like typists, horsemen, chimney sweep s, osteopaths and even playboys.

Until now, Shavonne thought that his lover’s job didn’t matter, but he was mistaken. He realized the moment he knew it wasn’t an illusion that he confessed being the serial killer that had made a commotion in Ira Street for a while.

“Just in case you didn’t notice, I just confessed to Shavonne.”

…The killer didn’t even allow Shavonne time to be pessimistic about his situation. Why does he have to confirm it when the situation was already miserable?

“…I know.”

Shavonne replied. It was true. He wished he hadn’t known, but (unfortunately) Shavonne knew that the killer’s expression “really really like” didn’t mean respect, friendship or favorability.

The rebuttal was immediately heard.

“You’re lying. If you knew, you wouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“Do I have to react?”

“Of course. I was waiting for a ‘I like you very very much, too’.”

He wasn’t wrong. Reactions such as “I’ve been waiting for you to say it” and “I like you very, very much, too,” which were used as examples by the murderer, were common. Also, some like “I didn’t want you to say that” or, “I like you very, very much, but just as a friend.”

But those reactions were only possible on the premise that the confessor wasn’t a murderer. Shavonne decided to react, not lie, without defying the killer.

“I feel like fainting.”

Of course, that meant that he wanted to run away from here. But …

“I should’ve told you earlier if I knew you’d love it so much that you’d faint. I’m an idiot.”

…The meaning understood by the murderer seemed to be somewhat far from what Shavonne’s ‘real meaning’.

Shavonne was silent. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to correct him, but he had to be careful because it might speed up his death (in about ten minutes). He wanted to live even for ten more minutes. In those ten minutes, it was less than likely that the murderer would be struck by a lightning or a sudden outbreak of war, but there could even be a miracle of the police coming in and arresting the murderer.

He knew those thoughts were useless, but he couldn’t let go of hope because he was now living a reality where more absurd things happened frequently.

“Why don’t you say anything?”

Sure enough, the killer didn’t even allow Shavonne time to hang on to hope.

“Don’t tell me… you don’t like me?”

“That’s…”

Shavonne paused. He was worried that he might get killed as a revenge if he said that he didn’t want to date a murderer.

“That’s?”

Was Shavonne’s pause unsatisfactory? The killer’s voice was fierce. Shavonne dozed off unconsciously. Shavonne’s only answer was, “I don’t want to date a murderer,” so he had to come with another one, but he couldn’t think of anything. His head was spinning, but before he knew it, his mouth was saying an unfiltered answer.

“I-I only date full-time employees. Not part-timers.”

Of course, it was a lie. Chimney sweeps or osteopaths who dated Shavonne weren’t suitable jobs either. Not to mention the one who used to be a playboy.

The murderer didn’t give up. Rather than giving up, he held both of his hands and his eyes shined. If there was no faint moonlight in the room, he wouldn’t have to see it. He sighed.

“Will you go out with me if I get hired as a hitman?”

That was terrible.

“That’s not it…” Shavonne hurriedly tried to take care of it. “I mean, change what you do. You have to be a typist or a horseman or a chimney sweep  or something.”

“Will you go out with me then?”

“…”

Shavonne couldn’t answer. Even if he changed to be a typist, a horseman, or a chimney sweep, a killer was a killer. Aside from the unpleasant change of job as a murderer, there were more than one or two dangerous problems like being a time bomb. First of all, there was a possibility that Lewellyn would be arrested.

If Lewellyn was arrested, Shavonne was also a problem to be branded as a murderer’s lover, but the bigger problem was that Shavonne could be accused of being an accomplice. If he was accused of being an accomplice, he would disappear with Lewellyn being given his sentence, and if he was  accused of aiding and abetting, he would leave Lewellyn and rot in prison for the rest of his life.

Secondly, it was his personality. What if Lewellyn killed Shavonne after a lover’s quarrel? Bad love ruined a person. August Basch was the living witness. Even August, who wasn’t a good man but not a felon, turned into an extreme stalker after being notified of the breakup, and Lewellyn, who was a felon from the start… He didn’t even want to imagine what a horrible son of a bitch he would be.

Just in time, the murderer started talking. The point was crystal clear, as if he had read what Shavonne was thinking.

“As you know, I’m a bad person.”

He knew. He got sick because he knew it too well. Shavonne nodded violently as an agreement.

“You know, being a bad person doesn’t mean being a bad lover.”

…Who knows. Shavonne stopped nodding in disapproval… The murderer continued his words without caring.

“You know, I’m young, tall, handsome and rich.”

Three of the four prideful things the murderer said were right. But he couldn’t know whether the other last one was true or not. Yeah, it was only natural because he had never checked it.

Whether he was a bad person or a bad lover, being young, tall, handsome and rich was an essential thing to know before dating, but there was something else. Shavonne asked.

“If I refuse, do I die?”

A faint moonlight got through the open window. The moon, which had been covered by clouds, was revealed and hidden, and then revealed again. It was a moonlight that seemed like a flickering fire because it kept hiding. The killer blinked as if he didn’t understand. The long eyelashes surrounding his eyes were bluish because of the light. Shavonne asked again.

“Will you kill me if I refuse?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Shavonne.” The killer’s voice in response was sweet. There was an unbelievably soft smile on his lips. “I don’t kill people in vain.”

“But if you’re rejected, you can’t help but feel bitterness.” He tried to add calmly, but his saliva was drying up. “You might want to kill me or something.”

Trying to kill someone just because you were rejected. If it were the Shavonne of one year ago, he would have said it was nonsense that would only happen in a novel, but after suffering from an ex-lover who tried to take his life while stalking Shavonne just because he broke up with him, the world was crazier than Shavonne thought.

“If I were going to kill you because I wanted to, I would come at you every time I wanted to hug you and kiss you, and I would rape you whenever I wanted to.”

The murderer smiled broadly.

“The only people who can’t stand their desires are children and animals, and as you see, I’m not a child nor an animal. I can’t be a child as I’m so sexy, and I can’t be an animal as I’m so handsome, right?”

…Yeah, if he were a child or an animal, he wouldn’t have made Shavonne feel as dumb as he did now. He was relieved when Lewellyn told him that he wouldn’t be killed even if he refused. Those thoughts were the half of the ones in his mind.

The other half was…

“Are you going to take the apartment from me?”

He couldn’t help it even though it seemed like a pathetic question. Whether the killer saw Shavonne as a snob or not, that matter made Shavonne ponder after being guaranteed his life.

He didn’t want to be called a snob, though. Shavonne didn’t mean to ask, but he didn’t want to be kicked out of the house and sit on the street in exchange.

It wasn’t like that from the beginning. Shavonne followed the ideals when he was a minor. He lived as a good, gentle and right person as the world taught him. When the head of the orphanage told him to hit the bully, Shavonne refused, and when the boys and girls at the orphanage knifed, stoned or trampled on their feet a frog, Shavonne stopped them, and when a gang that was working with the orphanage ordered him to pickpocket a passerby, Shavonne didn’t do it.

And all that came back to him. The orphanage director starved Shavonne. It took a week for the director’s anger to subside, and during that week, Shavonne didn’t eat a single meal. If he hadn’t dug through the leftovers, he would have starved to death.

The boys and girls at the orphanage began to reject Shavonne. There was a case where Shavonne was lynched about a month after the frog incident. Shavonne was on the blacklist of the criminal organization for refusing the order of pickpocket, and he was also on the blacklist of the orphanage, as it was closely linked to the criminal organization. The orphanage was famous for providing jobs when a student left the school as an adult, and Shavonne was an exception to the aid.

No one helped Shavonne. Many people who praised Shavonne as a good, gentle, and right boy didn’t give him bread and didn’t give him a house nor did they protect Shavonne from anyone who looked down on him.

The law couldn’t force ideals on those whose survival wasn’t guaranteed. Shavonne wanted to live. He didn’t want to starve, he didn’t want to be beaten, and he didn’t want to be disrespected for being someone good, gentle, or right.

“You may call me crass, but don’t take away the apartment…”

“What do you mean?”

The murderer cut him off. Shavonne, who let out his voice with all his might, had a straight attitude.

“How could I take the apartment? If it were mine, I would have taken it away, but it’s the apartment that I and Shavonne rent together. Have you forgotten?”

“That’s…”

Shavonne shut up after trying to respond, “That’s nothing but a pretense”. Shavonne and Lewellyn knew who was the actual tenant between Shavonne, who hadn’t paid a penny for the rent, and Lewellyn, who paid alone for 30 months’ rent.

If the conviction that he wouldn’t be killed even if he refused reassured a part of his mind, that he wouldn’t be kicked out even if he refused reassured the rest. However, it was inevitable that some of the anxiety didn’t disappear, sticking to one corner of his mind.

Just in time, Lewellyn opened his mouth. The remark hit the nail on the head as if he had seen through what anxiety Shavonne was feeling.

“I won’t hurt you.”

The yellow eyes stared at Shavonne. The unblinking eyes felt like those of a dead body.

“No matter what.”

That was enough. Before answering yes or no to the killer’s love confession, he checked all the things he would have checked to an ordinary person, so it was time.

“Mr. Shavonne.”

Lewellyn’s voice was sweet. The person who called the name “Shavonne” so affectionately was no other than Lewellyn, and if he tried to recall someone who did the same, no particular face came to his mind. Maybe Lewellyn was the first. Maybe he was the last time.

Lewellyn cut to the chase while he was thinking. It seemed that I wasn’t arguing, but as a result, it was the point that we were discussing throughout the exchange.

“Will you go out with me?”

The moonlight flowed in. The wind was blowing, and every time a huge tree near the window shook against it and leaves were flying. It was a night full of darkness.

Shavonne replied.

“No.”

That was the only answer Shavonne could say.

***

Shavonne woke up at the sensation of the up-coming spring. Going from the ceiling to the wall and from the wall to the window, his eyes stopped at the slightly opened window. Because of the spring breeze coming through the window, the curtains were moving forwards and inwards.

It was morning. The sunshine of the sunny day lit up the house without a single cloud to be seen. For a moment, he felt drowsy. A smirk came up over Shavonne’s face as he stared at the open window and the curtains. Shavonne must have been crazy last night to sleep with the window open all night, or he was so numb that he forgot to lock it before going to bed.

If he caught a cold, that would be a problem in its own way, but Shavonne’s bewilderment now wasn’t just because of the cold. Sleeping without locking the windows on Ira Street, which was like a nest of criminals, was like showing off your confidence, even if you were on the fifth floor. Whether your property is stolen, your life is lost, or even both, it will not be a very pleasant experience.

He stood up. The blanket covering his body slipped down. He couldn’t help but remember last night, that made him forget to lock the door.

-Will you go out with me?

Lewellyn’s face was covered by the night. The only things that weren’t, were his yellow eyes and blue cheeks under the moonlight.

The moonlight was flowing calmly. The wind blew and every time a huge tree near the window shook against it and the sound of leaves flying was heard.

– No.

Everything remained the same when Shavonne refused. The moonlight was flowing calmly. The wind blew and every time a huge tree near the window shook against it and the sound of leaves flying was heard.

Silence was all over. Like a hundred years in a second, a minute full of silence felt like a thousand years. Shavonne felt anxiety rising slowly in his stomach.

Did he believe too much what Lewellyn said, that he wouldn’t harm Shavonne even if I refused? What if he was lying. Even if it wasn’t a lie, it could be all talk before being rejected. Now, after being rejected, the story could be different. Just as he thought, Lewellyn broke the silence.

– Ah.

There was no exclamation. It was an unpredictable voice that he didn’t know if it meant “Then there’s nothing I can do” or “Then, die.”

Lewellyn added…

-I see.

That was all.

The reaction was quite different from usual. Of course, he couldn’t be calm as if nothing had happened since he was rejected, but this reaction was also awkward. He didn’t know that he was the one who caused such a reaction, but Shavonne couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. He constantly thought about whether he had to pretend to hesitate before he replied “No” or if he had refused too firmly.

-… Are you okay?

In the end, Shavonne couldn’t help but ask. And he regretted it as soon as he asked. He hoped he wouldn’t get the wrong idea, thinking that he’s teasing him. Shavonne had nothing to say if Lewellyn scolded him.

Fortunately, Lewellyn didn’t scold him, but…

-Yeah, of course.

He added with a bright smile.

– I’m okay. I couldn’t be better. I’m fine.

…Is it because of the feeling he gives that the bright smile looks unnatural? Shavonne felt uncomfortable.

Before he knew it, Lewellyn was at the front door. As if to recall what he had forgotten, Lewellyn turned his head suddenly, looked at Shavonne, and turned the front door handle. Of course, what Lewellyn says…

-Then, thank you for the meal.

-No need to thank me.

– I’m going to miss the ashy flavor of the roast beef all night long and the pudding that the world’s best chef made after 30 years of retirement too.

– …

Shavonne didn’t answer anything. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help but notice that Lewellyn wasn’t neither fine nor better.

The front door opened, so the hallway could be seen. Lewellyn was standing on the border between Room 303 and the corridor. If he took a step forward, he would be in the corridor, and if he took a step back, it would be room 303.

It was an accident that Shavonne started talking at that moment. A literal ‘accident’ that took place without self-awareness.

– We can be friends, right?

Ttuk.

Lewellyn’s body stopped. His back, which didn’t even move, was all black. He couldn’t tell what Lewellyn was looking at because he could only see his back.

But the next moment, Lewellyn casually turned to Shavonne as if it had all been a lie. He had a smiling face but his eyes weren’t. He wished he hadn’t noticed it but unfortunately Shavonne had.

-You’re too cruel, Mr. Shavonne.

He said in a light voice with a smile, but there was a deep wound behind it. He wished he hadn’t noticed it but unfortunately Shavonne had.

-There’s no need to be so heartless, is it?

It was because of that word that Shavonne had been tossing and turning all night in bed. He did mean it when he asked to still be friends. The idea was to greet each other in the hallway of the apartment building in Ira, put snacks in the mailbox, and become friends who often eat at home or at a restaurant. He thought that would be fine.

The problem was that Shavonne was overlooking the fact that it was rude to say so to a person who had just been rejected. Was Lewellyn feeling compassionate or sympathetic? Or did he feel ridiculed?

Shavonne wanted to strangle the himself of the past, saying, ‘Can we be friends?‘. If he could, he wanted to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t repeat to be such a dick.

Damn. I’m a piece of shit. I can’t even respect someone who confessed with all his heart and keep the minimum courtesy to him. Shit, shit, shit.

Shavonne couldn’t bear the shame and put his head on the head of the bed. As he felt a sense of shame, he was going to bang his head several times, but he gave up. It was because it was obvious that if he didn’t give up, he wouldn’t have any brain left. He didn’t want to break his head trying to relieve himself. It was even worse to become a cold body with a broken head.

Struggling with such regret and shame, Shavonne forgot the relatively “small” things he had to do. Things like arranging the table with tableware, checking for the gas as it didn’t turn on, or closing and locking the open windows.

“…”

At that point, Shavonne put away last night’s memories and returned to reality. The sun was lighting the house in the morning. The dust shone in the light, then darkened and then shone again.

Ashe approached the window and closed it, the billowing curtains stopped. The curtains showed no sight of movement, somehow reminiscent of silence. Something passed through Shavonne’s mind. It felt like anxiety, fear, and at the same time an emotion that didn’t fit anything. He didn’t realize what it was. At least so far.

Less than an hour later, at noon. On his way out of the house to do grocery shopping, Shavonne was confronted head-on by Lewellyn, who was just climbing the stairs.

In a short moment, the thought of ‘What should I do?‘ flashed through Shavonne’s head. “Should I say hello or not?” It would be awkward to know a person and ignore them. It was a matter of course. They were no longer ‘the one in room 302’or ‘the one in room 303’. They were ‘the one in room 302 who was rejected ‘and ‘the one in room 303 who rejected him’.

That alone was an uncomfortable relationship, and Shavonne even threw fuel on the fire, so their relationship might be less than an uncomfortable neighbor.

A conclusion quickly came to him.

“…Good morning.”

Pretending nothing happened, Shavonne greeted him. Of course, (although Shavonne himself didn’t know) because of the awkward smile Shavonne was making, it didn’t feel as if nothing had happened between them. On the contrary, it felt like the “nothing” that happened last night was emphasized.

“Yes, good morning.”

Lewellyn was fine. For Shavonne, who had guessed that he was suffering from a broken heart, he seemed very fine.

What should I say? ‘You’re doing fine?’ Or ‘Please forget how rude I was yesterday’? Or ‘I guess you’re on your way back home?’

While he was thinking, Lewellyn opened his mouth first.

“May you move aside if you don’t have anything to do?”

He added, casually pointing at the door 302 that Shavonne was blocking, calmly.

“I have to go in.”

…Shavonne had a tingling sensation in the back of his head as if he had been hit.

“Oh, and.”

While Shavonne couldn’t respond, Lewellyn opened his mouth again. He looked as good, perfect and intact as he himself said last night.

“I advise you that you’d better not smile at me for the next three months, because it would be unfortunate if I’m under the illusion that Ms. Shavonne likes me.”

He smiled and added.

“Right?”

***

Shavonne understood. Right, he would if Shavonne were Lewellyn. It was wise to draw a line to prevent any misunderstanding. Yes, but humanly, he couldn’t help doing something about it.

Lewellyn’s voice, “May you move aside if you don’t have anything to do?” came to his mind constantly. He thought about it while sleeping, eating and walking along the street. The only time he was free from that voice was during working hours.

Newell had been requesting more frequently recently, and the letter that Newell sent for correction was such a mess that he had to focus without time to recall the voice saying, “May you move aside if you don’t have anything to do?”

「S Last night I thought all night about what love is. What is love? Some say it’s what you cherish and value very much and others say it’s one of human’s most profound and complex emotions an instinct that allows humans to have passion and desire and give it to others but it’s all nonsense A dog barking it’s a far more persuasive argument than that. The people who love are all masochist Otherwise, they wouldn’t have tortured themself like that Damn you why won’t you love me back why won’t you love me back. S, think about it again If you do, you’ll know it’s better to love me than not to love me Please reconsider it There’s no one who can love you more than me, and even if there is, I’ll kill him.」

「Why don’t you love me If I tell you everything, will you love me. What should I do to make you love me? What should I do? What should I do? I want to cry. Will you soothe me if I cry? Of course not. I’m not looking forward to it, but if I cry out loud, you’ll at least look at me, right? Yeah? Right? Say yes Please」

「Shall I tell you everything Then will you love me I wish I were the world to you like you are the world to me Just like you’re the world to me, I have to be the world to you I want to die, but don’t worry I just want to die. I don’t mean I’ll die I’ll never die How can I leave you behind I tried so hard to find you but if I was going to give up like this I wouldn’t even start it. I’m not a fool I won’t make mistakes twice 」

He didn’t know why this bastard wrote crap down and called it a love letter. With a sigh, Shavonne wrote the principles a sentence must have at the beginning of the letter before writing the correction.

「Mr. Newell. At the end of the sentence, you must write down symbols such as period (.), question mark (?), comma (,), exclamation mark (!). 」

And then he outlined the basic rules of a composition.

「Whether it is a comprehensive composition or a non-comprehensive one, there should be a text that delivers the purpose. Mr. Newell’s S would never like anything written in a gibberish way (unless he has a gibberish fetishism). Do you understand? 」

Although he pointed it out, he didn’t expect Newell to change his writing habits. Habits are not fixed overnight.

To his surprise, however, the letter arrived from Mr Newell three days later had been perfectly fixed. There was no sentence without a connector, and it had a perfect structure. As expected, it worked when he told him that S wouldn’t like it. Shavonne was proud of himself.

***

One warm spring day, Shavonne greeted Lewellyn when he went out. He didn’t smile. As Lewellyn said, a smile between the one who was rejected and who rejected him could have caused a misunderstanding.

“Hello.”

“Yes, hello” Lewellyn said, trying to turn around and pass Shavonne. Shavonne hurriedly talked to Lewellyn and caught him.

“Where are you going?”

“Yes, I’m going” Levilin replied and turned around and tried to pass Shavonne. Shavonne hurriedly talked to Lewellyn and caught him.

“Don’t you peel onions anymore?”

“No, I don’t” Lewellyn replied, and turned around and passed Shavonne. Shavonne hurriedly tried to catch Lewellyn but failed. It was because he couldn’t think of anything to say.

There were days when Lewellyn dealt with Shavonne in a polite manner, and Shavonne exchanged greetings with him quite awkwardly, and some he overlooked him as if he didn’t see him.

Fortunately, there were significantly fewer encounters with Lewellyn than before. That’s because 95 percent of the situation Shavonne ran into Lewellyn was when he left home and faced Lewellyn, who was sitting on the stairs of the apartment peeling onions.

Lewellyn no longer peeled onions. At least in public places like the staircase of apartments. On that day, the stairs of the apartment were empty, and the stairs of the apartment were empty the next day too. It was the same until the next day, the next day, and the next day, but the stairs of the apartment were empty until the day Shavonne couldn’t stand it anymore.

Whenever he saw the empty staircase, Shavonne felt an impulse to sit alone on the stairs of the apartment building. Just as Lewellyn did for a while in the past winter from 8 a.m. to 9:30 p.m.

Shavonne knew. That was a pathetic impulse. He also knew that following the impulse would only give him a sense of shame as if he had become a fool without any pleasure, satisfaction, nor achievement. As Lewellyn said, only children and animals couldn’t stand their desires. Shavonne was neither a child nor an animal, so he had to control the impulse.

Yes, he should have.

But one evening in mid-March, Shavonne proved himself that even a man who was about 30 could act like a child. Or, he had proved himself that the ancestors of mankind are animals. Either way, the important thing was that Shavonne couldn’t resist the impulse and sat down on the stairs of the apartment.

He was stiff sitting for just an hour, let alone from 8 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. It felt as if he had eggs in his butt. Was that all? Cold air penetrated into his hips, thighs, and calves, and the lower part of his body became naturally numb even in a warm spring. Shavonne couldn’t even guess how cold it would have been last winter, which was incomparably harsh compared to now.

I want to get your attention.

He remembered what Lewellyn once said. At best, he heard it last month, but it felt as if it had been a decade.

Attention. He said attention. Shavonne was nothing more than a citizen in a good way and a poor man in a bad way. To get Shavonne’s attention, he endured the pain of freezing his hips, thighs and calves from 8 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. Ha. He didn’t know if the smile on Shavonne’s mouth was fake or not.

At that time, there was a feeling passing by Shavonne. Feeling anxious and fearful, but at the same time out of place.

It was a feeling he knew. He couldn’t help but not know because he had felt it while closing the window that had been open all night, watching the curtains no longer moving as the wind disappeared, and listening to the silence that filled the house. But he didn’t know what to call that feeling. At least so far.

Shavonne stood up. It couldn’t happen, but it was obvious that if Lewellyn appeared and asked “Why are you sitting here?”, Shavonne wouldn’t have answered anything. He couldn’t say ‘I understood how you felt to get my attention’ or ‘I wanted to get attention’.

Shavonne, who was about to enter Room 303, suddenly stopped walking in front of Room 302. He saw the closed door. On the door, the nameplate with the number 302 engraved was there. Shortly after looking up at the door like that, Shavonne turned around and left.

***

Relationships are necessarily based on calculations. Whether it’s a relationship between parents and children, a relationship between friends, or a relationship between lovers. As everything in this world, relationships are not just about gaining. There are some things to lose. That is the time, energy, and emotion required to deal with people.

Can I be with this person? Or, can I lose this person? Or, is this person worth my time, energy and emotion? People worry like that when they are in a situation to keep or lose someone.

Whether it’s an extrovert or an introvert, everyone has a limit on their relationships that they can handle. The moment the limit is exceeded, the person collapses. Ironically, you are crushed by all the relationships you have made to live.

Let’s ask again. Can I be with this person? Or, can I lose this person? Or, is this person worth my time, energy and emotion?

So, is Lewellyn worthy of my time, energy and emotion?

“…”

I don’t know. I guess it’s not because I’m not sure. Shavonne finally concluded that as that matter interfered with his daily life due to mental distress.

It was simple to think of it as wind. Wind. The wind comes and then leaves without hesitation. Right, like an insulation, that wasn’t that bad.

No, no. It was a good thing. The killer next door said he would have no relationship with Shavonne, and that was of course good news for him, who was satisfied with just watching it in novels and plays.

He could go back to the ‘reality’ that Shavonne lived in when he didn’t know Lewellyn, as if he didn’t dream of anything.

***

Around the evening, Shavonne visited B, which was a pub in North Bunch, where homosexuals went. Shavonne had been a guest of B for nearly five years. There were a total of 29 people Shavonnee had been dating so far, 20 of whom he had met in “B”, so it is needless to say how much Shavonnee was making good use of ” B”.

After entering B, Shavonne didn’t have to search for someone. This was because if you take a seat alone, a person would flirt with you within at least one minute or up to five minutes. He wasn’t good enough to make a living on his face, but Shavonne looked fine anyway. That means that he had a beauty that was good enough to get a lover or sex partner.

“May I sit down?”

Sure enough, less than five minutes after Shavonne sat down that day, a man approached.

Shavonne replied. “Sure.”

They had an untimely conversation. It may be right to call it exploration, not conversation. Not only did they look at their faces, clothes, and ordered alcohol, but also they scanned each other by exchanging words.

From the pale face, it can be seen that the man had a job that didn’t have frequent outdoor activities, and from his white, clean hands and ten neat nails, it can be seen that he didn’t do hard work.

Also, there was the suit. Although he was wearing a simple suit according to B’s tacit rule of not wearing overly formal attire, Shavonne was impressed by the shape of the lapel, the color, and the cloth and sleeves. He must have scanned Shavonne as much as Shavonne did, but he approached Shavonne even though it was obvious that he was broke. He guessed he liked him a lot. The next thing to explore was, of course, his personality.

“What happened?”

They talked back and forth. The topic went to the current state of Shavonne.

“You don’t want to know”

Shavonne tried to turn the topic around. But …

“I’m curious, what happened?”

Shavonne became curious. Did the man not notice that Shavonne didn’t want to talk, or was he stubborn even after he noticed it?

He could know the answer quickly.

“It’s a long story.”

“It’s okay. I have a lot of time.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. If he were to date this man with literally a ‘one in ten thousand’ chance, Shavonne wouldn’t interact emotionally with him. Regardless of the opinions of the other party, that type that was only focused on satisfying their curiosity used to make their surroundings, especially their lovers, very tired.

“This started around the end of last year…”

Shavonne said so because he was more curious about how the man would react after listening to the story that made him feel uncomfortable as he didn’t want to tell the story. However, the man’s reaction was too far beyond Shavonne’s expectation. He was sleepy.

Upon hearing that Shavonne received a note reading “Good night :-P” around Christmas, he dozed off when he heard the story of his ex turning into a psycho and stalking him as he met an onion peeling neighbor sat on the stairs of an apartment on the day he broke up with his ex-boyfriend.

He seemed not to doze off, but the man’s eyes kept losing focus. Instead of saying, “I’m sorry. Wasn’t my story a bit boring?” or, “You have to go home if you’re going to sleep, don’t beg for something that you’re not going to hear.” he said.

“Wait.”

And stood up. “Goodbye.” As he was dozing off, the man tried to have a wide awake face. “It was fun to talk about.”

Yeah, it must’ve been fun. Shavonne replied back to his mind.

“Tell me when you want to talk.”, “I’m waiting.”, “I’m always here.” The voice he heard once penetrated his ears, but Shavonne shook it off.

Shavonne left the hall and left B. It was night when he came back to the Ira apartment. Shavonne, who was climbing the stairs of the apartment building with his hands in his coat pocket, met Lewellyn when he reached the third floor. “Ah,” came from Shavonne’s mouth.

The silence flowed. He didn’t know it was a natural silence because they had been passing by as if they didn’t know each other when he had encountered him recently. It was Lewellyn who opened his mouth first, as usual when there was silence.

“Hello.”

There was no sign of agitation, but a neat face and voice. “Yes… Hello.” A trembling greeting came out of Shavonne’s lips.

Perhaps, he was waiting for me to come home. He wondered, but it was only for a moment.

Lewellyn was dressed in outerwear. If he had just waited for Shavonne to return home, he would have either worn indoor clothes or a light coat on top of his indoor clothes, and he wouldn’t have worn that outfit.

“You must be going out.”

“Yes.”

Lewellyn, who answered as if it weren’t a big deal, had also asked questions as if they were insignificant.

“You must have gone out.”

“Yes.”

Then, there was silence. Lewellyn didn’t seem to care much, but Shavonne didn’t. He felt awkward. He couldn’t stand it without saying anything.

“I’ve been to a pub for a while.”

The reply came out right away.

“You’re not drunk at all.”

“Yes, I didn’t go there to drink.”

Shavonne realized right after I said it. The fact that he made a mistake. The reason for looking for a bar was obvious if he didn’t go for a drink. He wished Lewellyn was such a fool that he didn’t realize why, but he didn’t think so. And Lewellyn’s reaction was…

“Ah,” he exclaimed in a quiet voice and added. His voice didn’t really show any emotions, “I see.”

It was the worst. Shavonne thought he would soon have a seizure when he heard “Ah, I see”.

***

The next time he went to B, he met a new man. He was handsome, had a good personality, and even had money. But thirty minutes after they sat at the table and exchanged drinks with each other, Shavonne said, “I can’t” and turned the man down. He couldn’t help it. The man’s smile wasn’t as bright as Shavonne wanted.

The next time he went to B, he met a new man. He was handsome, had a good personality, had money, and had a bright smile. But twenty minutes after sitting at the table and exchanging drinks with each other, Shavonne said, “I can’t” and turned the man down. He couldn’t help it. The man wasn’t as cute as Shavonne had hoped.

The next time he went to B, he met a new man. He was handsome, had a good personality, had money, had a bright smile, and was cute. But ten minutes after sitting at the table and exchanging drinks with each other, Shavonne said, “I can’t” and turned the man down. He couldn’t help it. The man’s eyes weren’t as yellow as Shavonne had hoped.

Shavonne didn’t go to B anymore. It was because he knew that he wouldn’t date anyone even if he met a man that was handsome, had a good personality, money, bright smile, cute smile, and yellow eyes.

He could tell countless reasons why. He didn’t live in Ira Street, so he wasn’t a resident of the apartment building, so he didn’t live in room 302.

Once again, he felt anxiety and fear, and at the same time, those feelings that didn’t match anything passed through Shavonne. It wasn’t until Shavonne realized what it was called. It was loneliness.

Can a person die of loneliness?

***

“He hasn’t come back yet?”

On a clear sunny morning, Shavonne asked in front of Dr. Fawks’ mansion. Blocking Shavonne from entering the site, the butler nodded in acceptance. Shavonne was at a loss for words.

He thought that he rather believed that Dr. Faulkes, instead of being on a business trip, died, went on a permanent business trip to Bosch, or that the butler was blocking Shavonne from entering the mansion as he was broke.

Perhaps he noticed that Shavonne was suspicious, and the butler, who offered only insincere short answers as if he would never explain the situation, added.

“According to a letter from the owner of Fawkes, things are worse than he thought, so…”

Whether what the butler said was true or not, Shavonne couldn’t help it. If it was true, Shavonne was just a friend and couldn’t argue about Dr. Fawkes’ official duties even if it wasn’t true. All he had was suspicion, but to grab the butler by the collar and threaten him to tell the truth was a senseless act that neither a child nor an animal did.

“…I understand.”

He sighed and turned around. The way to cure his loneliness was to meet a person. He tried to date a new person but failed. B was the evidence. As long as Lewellyn was in his mind, Shavonne wouldn’t be able to date a lover, sex partner, or even a pure drinking partner for a while.

Then he had to go to a person he knew to relieve his loneliness, but it was also a failure without his only friend, Dr. Fawks. If he were in Bunch, he would have found him somehow, but Bosch? For Shavonne, Bosch was a “very, very, very” distant neighboring country he didn’t have a chance to go and saw it when reading the newspaper and seeing advertisements from wine shops.

His steps were heavy. It wasn’t because of Dr. Fawks. (Of course, Dr. Fawks wasn’t at fault because it’s not wrong to work hard.) It was because of Shavonne himself.

Without Dr. Fawks, Shavonne was alone. He didn’t have money these days, let alone health. He had a job as a ghostwriter but a publisher took money from him. He was a loner who didn’t even have anyone to talk about such trivial things.

Shavonne turned around and headed to Bunch Square instead of going to the Ira apartment. It was a wise choice. They won’t see each other again when they leave, so Shavonne said (I don’t have money, I had a job as a ghostwriter, but the publishing company stole my money) to a person who listened to his trivial thing.

“I don’t have money.”

“…”

“I want to work, but no one gives me a job, except… some kind of freak.”

“…”

“That jerk had a normal name, handwriting, and his letters are fine, but they are love letters written as a diary, and I guess he recently got dumped by the guy he liked. It’s terrible.”

“…”

The homeless had no reaction. Actually, he didn’t listen to what Shavonne said at all, but he couldn’t avoid him. Sitting on the bank next to the homeless, Shavonne sighed.

“Yeah, I know, you don’t like my story. But …”

‘Don’t you have a poor reaction?’ Shavonne couldn’t bring it up. That day, the day he received the love confession, Shavonne’s conversation with Lewellyn popped up.

-You’re lying. If you knew, you wouldn’t have reacted like that.

-Do I have to react?

-Of course. I was waiting for a ‘I like you very very much, too’.

“.. Can you just react?” Shavonne continued, ignoring the voice in his mind. Like a “Mn” or “no” or even “see ya.”

He thought no reaction would come back as it had been so far, but he was mistaken. The homeless man rolled up his index finger and thumb to make a circle. It was a gesture to ask for money. Shavonne said that he had no money, he wanted to work, but no one gave him a job. It didn’t matter what Shavonne’s situation was. He was worried about whether he would give it or not. In the end, Shavonne took out the change. One selona.

“Yes, no, see ya.”

As soon as he received the money, what the homeless said was what Shavonne asked for. Shavonne thought that money was also a way to keep mute, deaf, and blind people bright.

“Ask me how I’m feeling these days.”

“How are you feeling these days?”

“Badly.”

“…”

“And now?”

“And now?”

“It’s exceptionally bad now, but it’s always been so bad that it’s never been bad.”

“…”

“I’m tired.”

“…”

“Can I die of loneliness?”

It wasn’t until he spoke that he felt belated regret that he was being too sentimental. He was so pitiful to say that to a homeless man that was, perhaps, more lonely than Shavonne. Shavonne added, although he didn’t know whether he wanted to say to himself or to the homeless.

“Say, you won’t die.”

But the homeless man just stared at a spot in the air and said nothing. Shavonne stayed still. The spring sun made the square warm.

***

The loneliest time in his life was definitely now. As Shavonnee himself said, his life had always been so bad that it couldn’t be called lonely. He was now because he was accustomed to the kindness, interest, and love that Lewellyn showed. It may be more accurate to say that it was because he was domesticated.

It would have been better if he had never known the kindness, interest and love that someone showed me.

Unfortunately Shavonne knew. Once you’ve tasted it, you can’t go back to the days when you didn’t know what they were.

That evening, it wasn’t expected that Shavonne would confess his love to Lewellyn.

Just in time, it was the day when he “cleaned up” Lewellyn. Of course, it didn’t mean anything such as burial or trafficking. Shavonne’s “cleaning up” meant erasing all traces that could be reminiscent of a particular object.

The same was true even if the object was a person. He erased all traces related to the person. Like the tableware that Lewellyn used, food that what he said could be either a compliment or an insult, or the gas light that unintentionally created a scary atmosphere between Shavonne and Lewellyn at a strange time.

After he threw all those away, the house felt empty. He knew it. He shouldn’t have met Lewellyn in the first place. He wouldn’t have if he had known I’d lose a third of his household stuff. Shavonne, who had been trying to think that way, was upset the next moment.

He cleaned up to not be reminiscent of Lewellyn, but he thought of Lewellyn when I saw the emptiness. He wasn’t sure if this “clean up” would work. But even if he wasn’t, he needed to finish what he started.

Shavonne was done. Tableware, jam, gas light, and the notes attached to Door 303 last winter were also placed in the trash can.

As usual today, Mr. Newell had sent a letter of request for correction. Shavonne couldn’t delay the work, as the only stable income was the wage he earned from the editing work.

Furthermore, Newell was the only string that connected Shavonne and the world. The purpose was to request a lecture and correction, and the rest of the chat was divided into P.S., but Newell was the only one who asked how Shavonne was doing, P.S. or not.

How bad will it be today? Even before the mail was opened, Shavonne was speculating. The worse the sentence was, the more attention had to be paid to the sentence and correction, but while he had to concentrate, Le… No, he couldn’t think of “him”, the one who he decided not to think of anymore.

He was lucky today. The letter sent by Mr. Newell (except that there was no comprehensive structure) was the typical that didn’t deviate from Shavonne’s expectations. It was way too moody, way too sentimental, way too misspelled…

“…?”

Shavonne stopped looking. At the end there was the word “new yeer”.

New year?

All of a sudden, he recalled something. Shavonne jumped out of her desk. The chair was pushed back and made a deafening noise.

No way.

Shavonne dug through the trash can. He took out all the notes on the door of room 303 last winter.

『They say that the New Yeer’s Festival is a lot of fun. Let’s go and have fun 0:) 』

New Year. It was clear. It was a new yeer.

His heart was beating. The thumping sound was even ringing in his ears.

No. It’s not what I think. No, it’s not.

He tried not to lose his cool but it didn’t work. Shavonne’s hand was shaking as he groped the postage envelope, or rather the postage stamp on the envelope. It wasn’t just his hands. His whole body was shaking.

August Basch had once written a letter. He took it to the post office and was verified that the postmark on the mail was the official identity, and then the staff informed him how to identify the source of the letter with a postmark on the mail.

There was an English word and number that was so small that you couldn’t recognize it without looking at it carefully, but English meant the code of the mailbox containing the letter, and the number meant the number of the area where the mailbox was located. It was common for ordinary people to not recognize it, but this time it wasn’t. He was used to the C-5 area code 38 on the postmark.

-This letter was collected from the C-5 mailbox on Ira Street.

Area code 38. Ira Street.

― …C-5?

-Don’t you know? The mailbox at the entrance of the Ira apartment.

The mailbox at the entrance of the Ira apartment, C-5.

Mr. Newell, who wrote new yeer, sent a letter to Ira Street. Ira Street, so the mailbox in front of the apartment.

At the moment, the contents of Mr. Newell’s letter flashed through my head.

『S, why are you avoiding me? 』

『Last night I thought about what love is. 』

『What should I do? What should I do? What should I do? 』

Lastly, Newell and Lewellyn. It was an anagram that was easy enough to recognize if you were interested. Shavonne was a fool that hadn’t noticed so far. H was a total fucking idiot.

He stormed out of the house. He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t know what to ask and say. He didn’t even know whether to be angry or grateful, but one thing was certain. It was the fact that he had to visit Mr. Newell, Shavonne’s sole employer.

When he knocked on the door of room 302 as if he was kicking it, ‘Mr. Newell’ quickly came out. Shavonne asked. There has been no silence, disregard, awkward air, or hesitation that had always been between Shavonne and Lewellyn.

“It’s you, right?”

It was evening. The whole world spread beyond the apartment building was colored with romantic purple. Dusk, spring, moon and stars and cozy twilight, and gentle darkness.

“Oh no, I got caught,” Lewellyn frowned with an exaggerated expression. “That’s right. I’m the one who threw the newspaper out the window. Please don’t say it to the maintenance.”

Shavonne, instead of refuting by saying, “Pretend as much as you can”, reached out to Lewellyn’s letter, “Mr. Newell”, which he had grasped until then. Only then was there a reaction. Like a puddle after the rain, Lewellyn’s eyes became blurred for a moment. However, it was only a moment, and Lewellyn returned to his normal face. The child-like cheerful voice was a bonus.

“Yes. I’m Newell. I thought you knew that for a long time, but you only noticed now, you’re too slow…”

“Mr. Lewellyn.”

Shavonne cut him off. Without realizing it, his voice flowed through the lips.

“I like you.”

Silence. It wasn’t until there was full silence that Shavonne regained his sense of reality. He didn’t understand why he said that. But it wasn’t as if he didn’t know. It was a word that couldn’t be ignored, and it had to be said in the end.

His face was blushed out of control. The most heated place was the tip of his ear, which was so red that it would burst when touched. He wanted to hide it but couldn’t. Shavonne wasn’t good with facial expressions to the extent that he could hide his complexion.

What would Lewellyn say? ‘I like you too?’ Or ‘I don’t like you.’ Or ‘Why are you talking nonsense?’.

But the next moment, Lewellyn’s answer was none of the possibilities Shavonne could have come up with.

“Mr. Shavonne’s ears are red.”

Lewellyn added with a smile: like a red radish. Shavonne felt a booming explosion somewhere in his head.

“Hell. I know. I know too!” shouted Shavonne. “Does it matter now whether my ears are red or blue?”

For the first time in his life, Shavonne realized that he was the type to raise his voice when he was embarrassed. If it wasn’t a place to raise his voice, he would point his fingers at people who raised their voices, but he thought he couldn’t do that anymore.

Lewellyn still didn’t accept, reject, or question whether he was saying nonsense. However,

“Do you need money?”

He asked. Even before Shavonne, who didn’t understand the situation, could answer, he asked again, “Do you?”, Lewellyn continued.

“If you need money, tell them you need it. You don’t have to do this.”

“No…”

“If you want, I’ll write a memorandum saying that I won’t harm Mr. Shavonne in any way.”

Shavonne was speechless.

“How can you say that to someone you like?”

“Can’t I?”

Lewellyn, who asked back, looked as if he didn’t have the slightest idea what Shavonne’s logic was. What? What’s wrong? His head was pounding. Soon after, Shavonne would never have noticed what was wrong if Lewellyn hadn’t said the following.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this all of a sudden.”

“…”

“You like Newell, not me.”

“…”

Lewellyn said again while Shavonne couldn’t answer. The tone was to hide the hurt voice.

“You love the money I give you, not me.”

Damn. Shavonne thought. Lewellyn should have kept in mind that in advance so it was only natural, but it was Shavonne’s fault that he did not take that into account because he was busy conveying his feelings. His mouth was dry.

“No, no, damn it.”

After saying that, he felt like he wanted to wash his dried face. Why am I not good at speaking. There has never been a moment as painfully lamentable as now.

“I like the money Mr. Newell gives me. Yeah, it would be a lie if I say the contrary, but it’s not because of the money that I confessed that I like you. Not Mr. Newell, but you, who pretended to be Mr. Newell and wrote to me before and after my rejection.”

Lewellyn didn’t seem to understand what he said so far. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Shavonne wanted to die a little.

“If I say this, you’re going to think I’m a selfish kid or an incorrigible outsider, but …”

Damn it, damn it, damn it. Shavonne kind of wanted to die.

“No one cared about me as much as you did, and no one cared about me more than you did.”

Damn it, damn it, damn it. Shavonne wanted to die a lot.

“As much as you… Shit. Forget it.”

Shavonne dropped his head and mumbled all the swearing he knew with his mouth. It was an insult to Shavonne himself, not to Lewellyn. Lewellyn looked down at Shavonne and said nothing.

I’m sorry. I think I’m drunk.

Shavonne, who didn’t drink a drop of liquid, let alone alcohol, was desperate to run away now.

“I need you.”

No idea. Shavonne didn’t know what he was talking about, but he couldn’t help but know that it was for the other person, Lewellyn. Shavonne, who looked down the hall floor and murmured, raised his head and faced Lewellyn.

I’ll tell you. I may be accepted, but I may not be accepted… Anyway, whatever choice Lewellyn made, the fact that Shavonne likes Lewelyn wouldn’t change. It’s not like he was ready to be accepted, but he wanted to tell him the truth. It was just conveying the facts. As if to say thank you because there was something to be thankful for, or as if to say that it was fun because there was something enjoyable. That’s how he was encouraged.

“I need you.”

The silence flowed all over. He was unlucky. From his experience, if someone remained silent after hearing a confession, he was significantly more likely to say, “I don’t, if there’s nothing more, then…” rather than suddenly hugging Shavonne in emotional tears after a while.

Shavonne closed his eyes tightly. What should I do? Should I say “Ah, I see” if I get rejected? Or should I say, “I’m sorry, I must be drunk?”

However, Shavonne’s concern was overshadowed by Lewellyn’s answer the next moment as it wasn’t a rejection.

“You rejected me.”

Anyone would have done that. There was no one who wants to date a murderer. Shavonne was one of them. If Shavonne’s life wasn’t special, he would still have been in that position.

Shavonne himself found the choice unwise. But, damn it, he’s the only one who loves me, whether it’s a murderer or a smuggler or a tax evader. What should I do?

He sailed 29 years without water. He had to drink the sea water because he was thirsty. He survived 29 years without food. He had to eat anything even if his body was ill. He lived 29 years on an island where humans were cannibals. Because they wanted to meet people, talk, have relationships, they would be cannibals. He knew he might be eaten, but he couldn’t help it. People die when they are lonely. So, that means…

“Yes, I did.”

Shavonne said. He said so, holding back the urge to lower his eyes, turn his head, or blur the focus and looked straight at Lewellyn.

“And I came back.”

It was a spring evening when the whole world was blackened. The wind was blowing, and every time a huge tree shook over the corridor railing, it made a gentle rustle. Spring was seeping in. To Shavonne, to Lewellyn.

“Will you go out with me?”

Shavonne asked. It was the same proposal that Lewellyn made that night.

Lewellyn replied. It was a different answer from Shavonne’s that night.

“Yes.”

Shavonne thought. Maybe I’m not that unlucky.

***

Shavonne was fine for the first time in 29 years.

A man moved in next door.

He was young, handsome and unpredictable, but he was a cute neighbor.

And perhaps, the culprit behind the recent serial killings on South Bunch on Ira Street.

And before all that, he’s his boyfriend.

Shavonne’s 30th lover but the first one he actually wanted to be in a relationship with.

***

It was a dark night and he couldn’t see an inch ahead. Today, he thought that he could fall asleep without having nightmares. As he tried to put out the candle, the only light that lit up the house, he suddenly paused.

There was a sound, the rain. Every time a long, thin rain drop hit, there was a loud noise that could be heard from the pile of trash that would pile up somewhere near the apartment.

He frowned his brow. He didn’t like rain nor the sound. Every time it rains, the memory of “that day” comes to his mind whether he wants it or not.

Of course, today was no exception.

-Are you out of your mind?

All the memories started with that voice. The voice. The voice that I told him today, ‘Will you go out with me?’.

– You like me? You love me? Why don’t you get out of here and ask me to live with you? In a red brick house, with a fireplace, and a dog.Should I name the dog Happy? Or Clover?

He looked blankly at Shavonne because he didn’t understand. Shavonne, don’t you love me? He wished he had asked that, but the question he chose at the time was even more foolish.

–Shavonne.

He called. A sign of disbelief was felt in his voice.

-Have you ever loved me?

Silence. And the sound of rain that filled that silence.

Shavonne stared at him and answered. A brutally resolute answer flowed through Shavonne’s lips.

– No.

He added.

– Never.

He couldn’t fall asleep without having nightmares. He blew out the candles while thinking. Everything became dark.