MERRY 47

“Ignorance is bliss, Ethan.”

The reason Ethan stopped talking first was because he didn’t dislike the sound of his name being called by Somerset. It was a truth that felt uneasy.

The man living next door is strange. He invades others’ territory without hesitation and indiscriminately draws attention, yet it isn’t unpleasant. Even the recklessness with which he pours interest onto a stranger like a bombardment becomes a charm. The fact that Ethan continues to stand outside, enduring the early summer heat, is all because of Somerset. Because of the power he possesses.

Ethan recalled the words the man had said during their first meeting.

“Because you make me want to talk to you. That’s just how you look.”

“From the moment you catch someone’s eye, you can’t be excluded.”

“Your eyes are so pretty—your pupils are so beautiful that looking at them makes me feel good.”

If Ethan were an honest person who loved to chatter, he would have returned the sentiment exactly. Somerset Quinn looked like someone you’d want to talk to, could never be excluded, and had beautiful eyes. The roundly shaped amber drew one’s gaze. Somerset spoke, radiating a fresh smile.

“Hot, isn’t it? Your face is a little red. Want to come in? How about a cup of coffee?”

Undoubtedly, he must have rarely been rejected. Ethan joined that experience, which was bound to be scarce.

“I believe I already turned that down.”

“Today could be different. Or do you still harbor suspicions that I might seduce and murder you?”

Remembering what Ethan had said last time, he called for a helper.

“Emma. Come here and tell him I’m not a murderer.”

Even upon receiving such an absurd request, the employee was not surprised. Soon, the middle-aged woman poked her head out the window and willingly became a witness.

“Somerset Quinn is no murderer. I swear it.”

“Emma is a sincere religious person who stops by the cathedral every day. You can’t possibly not believe her.”

Somerset, lifting his chin as if to boast while praising Emma, and Emma, widening her eyes as if to give a sincere impression in line with his words, looked like a pair of swindlers.

“I see.”

Ethan responded so as not to let Emma’s efforts—striving so hard the wrinkles around her eyes smoothed out—go to waste, while simultaneously scanning Somerset with a distrustful gaze. Though his eyes quickly softened, overwhelmed by the man’s cheerful atmosphere.

Emma turned around and asked Somerset in a quiet voice.

“How did you come to face such a terrible misunderstanding?”

“Because I’m just too charming.”

It wasn’t just her who burst into laughter at his cheeky attitude. Ethan hurriedly covered his twitching lips with his hand.

This is bad. I’m losing confidence that I won’t get caught up with this strange guy.

Unfortunately, the bad premonition hit the mark. That night, Ethan tossed and turned. It was because Somerset Quinn had occupied his mind, flapping his shirt collar. Every moment he faced him unfolded like a panorama. He dissected the scenes, retracing and reflecting on every single one of his expressions, tone, gaze, and actions.

A man who talks to you in a friendly way. A voice that pours out words like lines from a drama or movie. A bright smile. The heat lingering in those amber eyes. A deep-seated honesty. A cheerful atmosphere.

Thoughts relying on memory soon led to imagination. A man calling out the name Ethan—which he had properly provided—instead of Alex Howard; what it would be like if he approached the man first and called him “Somerset”; the situation that would unfold if he smiled back at the palm with the emoji drawn on it.

It reached the point where he imagined running out in the middle of the night and knocking on the neighbor’s door, causing him to sit bolt upright. He hadn’t caught even a crumb of sleep, yet his mind was hazy. It was as if he were hypnotized.

He sighed, messing up his limp, fallen hair. The air that had brushed over his teeth and palate felt stale. If it were now, he would probably accept the invitation to come in for coffee.

It was almost dawn by the time he finally fell asleep. And he had a dream where Somerset appeared. He actually appeared as a murderer. A man who lures people into his house with an enchanting smile and kills them.

In the dream, Ethan fell for him completely and stepped into the terrifying castle of slaughter. There was a drug in the coffee he gave. After drinking it obediently, the scene shifted.

He was lying down. Using Somerset’s lap as a pillow. Somerset the murderer looked down at Ethan with a magnificent smile. He spoke with tenderness in his eyes.

Your sin is lying. You deceived me by calling yourself Alex Howard, didn’t you?

Ethan fidgeted with his hands overlapped on his chest. He was given a chance to defend himself.

You said you could forgive a lie once.

However, he couldn’t escape the punishment. Somerset pointed out Ethan’s lie with a look of disappointment.

You’re attracted to me. It’s no use pretending you’re not.

Giving up on his counterargument, Ethan admitted his guilt. Somerset, laughing mischievously, sat him up and aimed a gun barrel. Bang! The sharp gunshot borrowed from the starting point of his memory rang out, and his body staggered. Ethan died like the diplomat who met a tragic end in front of his child, with a bullet piercing through his head.

It wasn’t a nightmare. When he woke from the dream, he felt so refreshed it was as if he had been reborn.

Whenever he leaves the house, he finds himself checking the house next door first. Will Somerset be leaning against the first-floor window today as well? Will he brush back his glossy curls and give a smirk? He’ll surely offer a greeting like “Hello.”

When the expectation went unmet, he felt disappointment. Disappointment is only possible when there is an expectation.

Had he expected it? Why? It was the point where the question began to take shape. Just as he was swallowing his regret while looking at the closed window, he ran into Somerset, who was returning from an early morning jog. He wiped the beads of sweat flowing down his chin with the back of his hand and stretched his lips into a smile.

“If I’m not mistaken, it looked like you were looking for me just now.”

He was caught red-handed, peeking around someone else’s house with his head poked out. Ethan touched his face, which was heating up from embarrassment. He thought of the murderer Somerset from his dream. If that man had seen him now, he would have counted the number of lies while bringing the gun barrel to his temple.

“You’re mistaken…”

“Probably not. My eyesight is quite good. My intuition is excellent, too.”

Somerset stepped forward with a confident attitude. He moved forward unhesitatingly as if he were going to hug him, then suddenly stepped back and pulled up his t-shirt. Sniff, he smells himself. His bronze skin was overflowing with moisture. It was sweat shed in the heat. The abs slightly revealed as the t-shirt was lifted also looked damp.

“It doesn’t smell bad. But just in case, I should wash up.”

After rambling on, he tilted his head and pointed to the house.

“Want to come in and wait?”

Of course, the answer was set. He hesitated for a moment because of his mouth, which wanted to disobey orders and stage a rebellion. He barely suppressed it and spoke his refusal.

“No.”

“Got rejected again? I thought today would be different.”

Somerset only seemed a little dejected; he didn’t lose heart. It was a relief. If he had pouted or shown lingering regret by inviting him once more, Ethan would have wavered.

Informing him he’d be going first, Ethan passed Somerset. He moved his feet confidently, but in reality, he had no destination. It was an outing without any business to attend to in the first face.

His feet, which were getting slower and slower, almost got caught.

“When are you coming back? I’ll be at my designated seat on time.”

The voice coming from behind was like birdlime. If he were a small bird or an insect, he wouldn’t have been able to break free. Ethan paused for a moment, then moved forward again.

“I don’t know.”

In a situation where he didn’t even know where he was heading, how would he know the time he’d return? The world is full of unpredictable things.

For example, like not knowing he would soon accept Somerset’s invitation.

It was a few days later. Having a drink together the previous evening was the trigger. An accident occurred on the way home after drinking at a terrible pub. He had been conquered by the man who pushed him, talking nonsense about how obsession was a man’s fate. More precisely, the signs of defeat became clear when the man asked if he often dreamed.

I don’t usually. It’s just become frequent recently. You always appear in the dreams.

Ethan, who couldn’t honestly reveal that, evaded the questions about whether he had a dream yesterday or what the dream was, and was ultimately swept away.

So, if he were to check his heart to see if he regretted it, the answer was no. Honestly, he had felt unsettled yesterday, but when the time actually came, it wasn’t so.