As I traversed the rain-soaked tropical forests of Brazil, as the occasional sunlight glimmered through the lush green foliage and cast shadows, I suddenly remembered the time I strolled through the Bijarim Forest in Hancheong-do with Jung Haekyung. We had walked down the red dirt path, a stark contrast to the evergreen trees, and even took pictures beneath the enormous ones. Jung Haekyung would always choose the areas with the nicest backdrops and pose me there, taking pictures where only my face would appear. Because of that, I was clueless about the locations of these photos once I took another look at them at a later date.
Jung Haekyung liked taking pictures, but he wasn’t a big fan of being photographed. That was why I would sometimes take candid shots of him. Every now and then, he would grab my phone and look through it without permission, but even if he did discover those photos, he didn’t say a thing. Well, there was no way he wouldn’t be aware of the fact that I had taken pictures of him. Why was it that I took pictures of Jung Haekyung, though?
I sat beneath a large tree that must have been hundreds of years old. The tree felt soft and damp as I leaned against it, blanketed in a layer of moss. I sat underneath it for a while and fished out my old phone, which I had yet to throw away. I opened the photo gallery, and there lay pictures of Jung Haekyung.
Those rare moments when he fell asleep first, when he was searching hard for something horrid—something I probably didn’t want to ask about—when he was casually leaning back, smoking a cigarette, when he concentrated so hard on a console game that he started leaning towards his character, when he started crying while chopping onions and pretended otherwise, when he was using the vacuum, wearing only his underwear… My phone was often broken, so I didn’t have that many pictures. One by one, I selected the images and pressed the delete button.
Deleting 13 images.
Cancel Confirm
I pressed the cancel button. I had been sitting for so long that species of bugs whose names were unknown to me started crawling up my legs and stomach. Despite my attempts to dust them off with my hand, the bugs, with their myriad of legs, refused to budge. I squashed the bugs with my thumb, killing them. Afterward, I stowed my phone in my bag and started walking again.
I returned to my lodgings and sat on the couch, drifting into a light slumber before even realising it myself. Then, my eyes snapped open. I can’t sleep on the couch. I have to get to the bed. I tried to get up when a sudden surge of pain gripped my stomach, as though it were tearing apart. Something wriggled atop my thin t-shirt. I took it off and discovered that something was pulsating against my skin, as if wanting to pierce through my stomach.
What is this? I shut my eyes in shock before reopening them. Then, my body tickled. The bugs I had killed earlier in the day were now crawling all over me. I tried to shake them off and kill them, but their sheer numbers overwhelmed me. No matter how many I killed, there seemed to be no end to them.
Just then, the inside of my stomach violently churned. The skin of my stomach stretched with no end in sight before my flesh finally tore apart, and an enormous bug crawled out of it. It was a bug with five heads. It writhed, crawling up my body, and sucked on my nipples. I exerted all my strength to pry it off, and it started crying. All five heads wailed in unison, rendering it impossible for me to hear properly. I covered my ears with my hands, but the noise didn’t go away. Helpless, I strangled the bug’s neck. However, its other four heads continued to look at me, crying.
∞
Gazing at the Amazon River, which boasted a jet-black colour due to plant debris, I sank into contemplation. It was time for my vagabond voyage to come to an end. I couldn’t keep avoiding S.E. and its affiliated government associations forever. No, I couldn’t even be sure if I was hiding myself properly. Wherever I went, I felt a constant gaze on the back of my neck. Perhaps they were simply observing how I would frolic around, just like last time. I had to figure out a way to deal with the situation before they decided to end their boring observation.
In the meantime, I traversed the South American continent, gathering intelligence on anti-military groups. Forces opposing the monopolisation of ability users by the military existed on every continent and in every country. Even if the FEL in Korea were eradicated, a similar organisation would soon emerge again. Ironically, those who cried and shouted for the liberation of ability users were in desperate need of those very same people. While it was a little funny to consider someone like myself an ability user, I was still seen as a limited edition, so who knows, they might even accept me if I asked. Wouldn’t I be able to hold on for a few more months if I joined one of the South American united organisations, such as Liberación?
I found myself caught up in a sudden guerrilla battle between Liberación and the Bolivian army on the streets of La Paz. At that moment, I locked eyes with a member of Liberación, who was wielding their ability. The woman, who had been using her abilities, wore an expression on her face that seemed to say, “Oops,” as she stared at me, standing there with a blank look on my face and a hot dog in my mouth. My arm was within the blast radius. However, even with the constant explosions, my arm remained unscathed. Pretending it was merely a stroke of luck, I shielded my arm with my body and ran from the scene. However, I sensed the woman’s gaze lingering on my back. She would come looking for me soon. I could only hope she wasn’t as crazy of a bitch as the previous one.
No, but what if she was actually crazy? Watching the flow of the river, shimmering in the light, I thought it didn’t matter who I was or where I was. It was difficult to estimate the depth of the river, so numbingly dark that it almost seemed to swallow me whole. Since the Amazon was flooded in river water for several months during the rainy season, the plants that managed to survive while being submerged in such dark river water were few and far between. While flooded forests submerged in clear river water grew more fertile as nutrients accumulated after the water receded, those submerged in dark river water turned into acidic soil, making it impossible for anything to grow even after the water drained, as explained by the guide.
That night, Jung Haekyung came to see me.
“Euijin-ah.”
I couldn’t respond. Then, Jung Haekyung called me again, “Euijin-ah.”
When I tried to speak, black water began to rise from the floor. The water quickly filled the room, and when it reached my neck, I called out to him, “…Haekyung-ah.”
However, my words turned into bubbles and disappeared in the water. The dark water rose to the top of my head, and I struggled with no end in sight. Although the imaginary water couldn’t actually drown me, I truly felt as though I were suffocating. I called Jung Haekyung’s name once more underwater. However, he didn’t respond. After calling his name repeatedly without an answer, my eyes suddenly snapped open.
Taking in deep breaths—breaths I couldn’t take in my dream—I examined my surroundings. No one was there. Nevertheless, I tightly gripped my gun, combing through every corner of the spacious suite room for any signs of people. It was only after overturning all the well-organised things in the room could I finally sit down amidst the wreckage, catching my breath once more.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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At that moment, the hotel door creaked open. I instinctively raised the gun I was holding and began firing. The Desert Eagle’s magnum bullets were discharged in rapid succession. After firing all eight shots, the trigger stopped producing any sounds other than a click. It was only then that I regained some of my senses.
A burly man collapsed in front of the door, a head full of bullets. Next to him stood the woman I had seen in La Paz. It seemed like she had done something to me with her abilities, but nothing happened to me. The woman seemed both flustered and relieved that my magazine was empty.
However, I didn’t carry just one gun. I pulled out a Glock from my pocket and shot the woman, who had her eyes open wide. It was only after the bullet had lodged in her head that a belated shield appeared in the air. Seeing how their ability response was later than the speed of the bullet, they both seemed to be low-ranking ability users. However, regardless of whether they were strong or weak, ability users had a tendency to overestimate their own powers. To think that they had let their guards down, despite being aware of the fact that abilities didn’t work on me.
I quickly left the hotel. It was commonplace for all sorts of things to happen here, so the sound of gunshots and the like didn’t attract much attention. My shoulders felt stiff after firing a heavy gun after so long. I rubbed my shoulder, passing through the streets and blending in with the sea of people. Liberación was no good either. I had to search for another organisation again.
∞
I felt the wind blowing and hazily opened my eyes. Using the faint moonlight, I surveyed my surroundings and noticed that the window was ajar, its thin curtains swaying. Lately, I’d been abnormally obsessed with locking my doors. There was simply no way I’d sleep with the window open. And, say, even with the window open, the room still felt oddly cold.
Guatemala’s hot and humid weather spared no distinction between day and night. The dilapidated inn, teetering on the brink of collapse and nestled in the alleyway of alleyways, lacked any form of air conditioning. Even though the yellowish-green fan, which had been set to its maximum after one of its blades broke, capable of generating no more than a feeble breeze, wasn’t on right now, the room was still filled with a chill. Slowly and quietly, I rose up to close the window. Then, I reached a hand under the pillow.
As I gripped the familiar sensation of the iron lump in my hand, my mind settled ever so slightly. However, it was short-lived; once again, my breath caught in my throat. Goosebumps crawled along my forearm and cheek. I felt a faint presence next to the window. However, perhaps owing to the moon being hidden behind clouds, the darkness was too dense for me to discern anything. There weren’t any broken streetlights in the grimy streets of the alleyway, and there wasn’t any moonlight either, only darkness.
I should have taken some form of action—whether it was pointing my gun at whatever it was, moving closer to investigate, or even going back to sleep and comforting myself by saying I was just being too sensitive—but I couldn’t do a thing. I just sat there, unable to breathe properly, just staring at the area near the window.
After a while, the moon, obscured by clouds, unveiled itself. Unlike in Cheonwol, the moon here was bright, able to cast its natural light in all of its glory. The full moonlight illuminated something. I fervently wished for there to be nothing, but there was something. The moment I gulped, I felt myself locking eyes with it. It slowly approached me, little by little.
The moonlight faintly streamed through the open window, and the figure reflected in the light slowly revealed itself. The hair fluttering in the wind, the pallid face, and the chapped lips appeared both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It crawled up from the foot of the bed, moving on its knees, inching closer and closer to me. Climbing up my foot, calves, and thighs, it stopped right before my eyes. I still couldn’t move. Despite knowing what had crawled on top of me, I didn’t want to call out to it.
“…Haekyung-ah…?”
Nevertheless, I called Jung Haekyung’s name. I called him as kindly as possible, overcome with fear. Jung Haekyung kindly smiled. Just like usual, his lips turned up into a pretty curve. However, his lips, which had always been a watery crimson, now appeared pale, and his low and husky voice sounded shrill, as if his vocal chords were being scratched. “Yes, Euijin-ah?”
I flinched at his response, incongruent with his uncanny voice, but Jung Haekyung’s voice continued to sound out. “So, this was where you were?”
I had already guessed that there was a glaring possibility of Jung Haekyung perceiving the current situation as a game of hide and seek. The possibility of the penalty for the one caught by the seeker being excessively cruel was also within my scope of expectation. However, I didn’t want to imagine what that cruel punishment might be. I had ended the game, but Jung Haekyung hadn’t. In that case, I had to forcibly end the game again.
“…Yeah, Haekyung-ah,” I obediently replied. As expected, I should’ve separated his head from his body back then. The anxiety that had filled my mind since escaping from S.E. materialised into a tangible presence. I made no effort to conceal the fact that my entire body was trembling. I even allowed my eyes to shake as much as they pleased. Because Jung Haekyung liked it the more I harboured hatred, fear, and dread.
“Are you feeling a little better now?”
I wasn’t exactly sure what I was supposed to be feeling better about, but I nodded anyway. I kept on nodding, just until Jung Haekyung appeared satisfied.
“Let’s go, then.”
Jung Haekyung grabbed my hand. Neither too tightly nor too loosely. Normally, Jung Haekyung’s hand would feel warm enough to be considered strange, but right now, it was surprisingly cold. I held my breath, frozen, with my hand enveloped in his.
At that moment, the wind blew in through the open window once more. Jung Haekyung’s hair fluttered. In the centre of his comely forehead was a deep red hole. The shadows cast by the moonlight made it appear even deeper. I found myself gazing absentmindedly at Jung Haekyung’s pierced forehead. Jung Haekyung laughed. He laughed, just as kindly as before, but spoke in a voice so strained and hoarse. “In entry 107 of the romance white book…”
“……”
“It says that every romance leaves its trace.”
“……”
“Both the head and the chest, isn’t that romantic?”
I nodded. Then, I applied pressure to the hand beneath the pillow. Jung Haekyung asked again, “Really?”
“…Yeah.”
I wanted to undo the safety catch under the pillow, but I was afraid it would make a noise. The current hour, where night had ended but dawn had yet to approach, was silent, and even the sound of our breaths sounded candid. If he was going to come anyway, he should’ve come on a day where there was thunder and lightning. So that every sound could be buried. When I bit my lip, feeling unnecessarily disappointed, Jung Haekyung drew closer and kissed me. He gently pushed his tongue between my lips, preventing me from biting them.
Right now. There was no opportunity other than right now.
In an instant, I released the lock and pulled the gun out, lifting it up. The moment I aimed it at Jung Haekyung and attempted to pull the trigger—boom, I dropped the gun, accompanied by the sound of an explosion. It wasn’t that my grip loosened and it fell; I dropped it because I couldn’t hold it.
The muzzle exploded, fragments scattering on the floor, and the impact caused my palm to turn bright red. The fact that my hand was still fully intact, not having been blown off, despite the fact that the gun had broken into pieces, was almost impressive. My palm bore scratches from the shards of iron, bleeding slightly. The heat had peeled off a layer of my palm, and blisters were beginning to form.
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Jung Haekyung gently caressed my swollen hand. It was a light injury compared to the state of the gun, but the pain elicited by the stimulation was enough to bring tears to my eyes.
“Euijin-ah, you said this wasn’t love.”
I couldn’t fully register the grating sound of Jung Haekyung’s voice. All I knew was that his voice sounded horrific. A cold sweat slid down my spine. Although I was accustomed to this level of pain, it felt exceptionally agonising today, causing tears to stream down onto the thin blanket. The colour of the blanket, adorned with red and dark blue tropical flowers, gradually darkened as it absorbed the moisture. Jung Haekyung placed a kiss on the corner of my eye and gently licked my tears with the tip of his tongue.
“Then, what is love?” Jung Haekyung asked. There were two types of questions he would pose. One was a question with a predetermined answer, and the other was a question asked out of genuine curiosity. Things got exhausting when I gave a different answer to the one with a predetermined one. So, I had to provide the answer that Jung Haekyung wanted. For the questions he asked out of genuine curiosity, I could express my own opinion.
I was unable to discern the type of question Jung Haekyung was posing at that moment. However, I had to answer. I continuously mumbled in my mouth, I love you, I love you, Haekyung-ah, I love you, I love you, I love you, Haekyung-ah, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, Haekyung-ah.
Even after uttering “I love you” dozens of times, Jung Haekyung remained unresponsive. I continued to repeat, “I love you,” while looking at him. Jung Haekyung grabbed my chin. His grip was so strong, it felt like my chin was going to break. I barely managed to stop my confessions of love, and only then did Jung Haekyung open his mouth. “Then, what is love?”
I realised that my previous answer had been wrong. I had to answer again. I repeated his words, unable to judge whether I should nod my head, shake it, tell him I loved him, or tell him that this wasn’t love, “…Love?”
“Yeah.”
Jung Haekyung pushed my shoulder. I allowed myself to be pushed back by him and laid back down on the bed. The springs of the cheap mattress shook and made a noise, and I felt the firm texture of the mattress against my back. Haekyung looked down at me from above for a while.
I carefully slipped my hand under the mattress, feeling for the handle of the military knife wedged beneath. I gripped its handle. Between Jung Haekyung’s dry lips, I could glimpse white teeth and a red tongue. Slightly lifting my head, I kissed those lips and pulled the knife out.
If the traces of love lingered in both the memory of the head and the heart within the chest, then it left as much of a mark on me as it did on Jung Haekyung. I came to a realisation during the times he wasn’t by my side—the fact that I had already been encroached upon by Jung Haekyung.
The food we shared, the places we visited together, the games we played together, the movies we watched together, and the music we listened to together constantly came to mind. Grasped hands, kisses irrespective of time and place, a warmth that filled me to the brim—it was difficult to sleep without those. From time to time, I’d hear a sweet voice whispering in my ear, almost like an auditory hallucination. Whenever I caught a glimpse of the back of someone who resembled him in the slightest, my heart would sink. I wanted to run towards him, but I also wanted to run away. I wanted to embrace him, but I also wanted to shoot him. I wanted to say, “I missed you,” but at the same time, I wanted to question him, asking why he did that to me.
Even if these emotions were called “love,” I didn’t want to give it a new name, associating such a horrifying meaning with those four letters. I was tired of spending sleepless nights pondering, denying, becoming angry, and feeling sadness about what this uncontrollable emotion was. Despite telling Jung Haekyung that this wasn’t love, upon reflection, I could even romantically confess that this was, indeed, love. However, my love was still incomplete, and it needed an end. Since things had already come to this, I wanted to complete my love.
Remaining by Jung Haekyung’s side erases my love. It forcibly diminishes. It renders it ever-so subservient. I could no longer discern whether I loved Jung Haekyung or whether I hated him. The more I loved, the more miserable I became. The ground beneath my feet continued to crumble, bit by bit, until it finally plunged me down with no end in sight.
When Jung Haekyung was by my side, my love was denied. To me—it was continuously denied to me, who craved a love that would eat me away, that would devour me until there was nothing left of me, not even crumbs.
I wanted to be recognised. I didn’t want it—I didn’t want my love to be erased from me. I didn’t want it to disappear. I didn’t want a love without me. I didn’t want a love with a broken ankle.
If Jung Haekyung was going to love me in his way, then I was going to love him in my own unique way. Then, one day, the pitch-black night, replete with nightmares, will slowly lighten. A day will come when a single shoot sprouts in a forest as desolate as mine. So that only the memories we loved—the shimmering moments—will remain.
“Haekyung-ah, I love you.”
With every fibre of my being, I confessed to Jung Haekyung. Now, I was able to speak with enough sincerity in my words to satisfy Jung Haekyung, who was curious about love. Then, I drove my knife straight into the area above Haekyung’s collarbone, into his carotid artery. If blood were to gush out like a fountain, staining my clothes, just like back then, I would depart to another continent again, just as I had done before. Even if he came to find me again, this cycle would continue to repeat until the day I was erased.
However, the blade didn’t penetrate as I had hoped. It failed to cut into his flesh, instead making a clang as it broke and fell onto the mattress. My wrist throbbed. I locked eyes with Haekyung. Haekyung whispered, “Me too.”
I tried my best to live, but the outcome was neither the best-case scenario, the worst, nor the lesser evil. I was unable to assess the result. If it was impossible for our love to coexist, would I be the one to be erased first, or would Jung Haekyung be the one to disappear first? Whose love would reach its completion first?
Jung Haekyung’s hair tickled my cheek. Like a white snake, he slowly crawled up my body, entwining around me. When Haekyung kissed me on the lips, I opened my mouth to accept him. After that, I would dig into his heart. If I failed, I could simply start over from the beginning.
Until the day this unfair romance comes to an end. Until only traces of this romance were left.
The end.
orcinus comments:
Only the hidden track, the epilogue, and the extra left to go before I gain my freedom…
I like the jump the author makes from Euijin calling Jung Haekyung from his full name to just Haekyung. The reason why I decided to translate the title as <Every Romance Leaves Its Trace> instead of using the word “relationship,” which probably would’ve sounded much smoother, is because the word 연애 refers to a relationship that is specifically romantic. I didn’t want to leave any misunderstandings that the title could be interpreted in any other way.
Anyway, this is the last chapter I have as backup, so I’m not really sure when the next update will be as I’m pretty busy with real life right now. I’m not really sure if I’ve translated this chapter well enough to convey the emotions it brought me when I first read it, and personally, I find that Euijin’s monologue gives a different atmosphere in Korean, something I didn’t exactly figure out how to transfer into English, but oh well! As always, thank you for reading *^^*
Oh, and I forgot to mention, the author considers this a happy ending since they both stay alive lol
FUCKK
Hey translator, thank you sm for all the hard work you put into this novel. This has been one of the best translations I’ve read on this platform which such excellent choice of english vocabulary and word choice. Thank you sm for your dedication and I hope things go well for you in real life! You got this🫶. I’ll be sure to follow your new translations after this one. ❤️❤️
Oh gawd, He should pull the uno reverse card and kill himself instead
I am glad I waited to read this all at once but this is not at all satisfying. How is this man alive. How has he still not gotten the message. Oh my goodness. Thanks for translating!
Oh wow we made it!This was a challenging ride and I’ve never felt the need to see the end of a novel like I did with this one.Moreover,I was convinced this was going to be a BE but well,Que Sera Que Sera.
Mc eventually fell for ml too even if it was twisted,I saw that coming but honestly speaking,I’d go crazy after all that shit if it was me.Mad respect for the uke.+-+
Also tysm for translating this and not dropping it,you have worked hard.^v^Good luck in whatever you are currently doing!
Also did I mention your translation was top quality?!
This MF gotta be one of the most stubborn bastards I’ve ever seen before, also love the internal fight that Euijin goes through when it comes to dealing with the drawbacks of his trauma. All in all, loved the story 🫶💕💕💕
noooooo he was destroyed by the abusive toxic relationship💔
Really appreciate for your translating!!