“That’s why a person’s past truly matters….”

The captain muttered while staring blankly at the ceiling. Actually, the one who should have that blank stare was Christoph, but Christoph, the person involved, was flipping through a newspaper with a nonchalant expression.

Just five minutes ago, the captain had asked his teammates a simple question and assessed the results by a show of hands. The question was simple: Who killed Assar?

Among the superiors, the ones who directly received the benefits, the conclusion had been reached. It was the man reading the newspaper right next to the captain.

However, due to the lack of solid evidence, he had to keep his mouth shut in front of his client. But in front of his teammates, he insisted: “No, it wasn’t me. The one who killed Assar was Richard Tarten.” Although the reward and punishment system based on the superiors’ judgment had ended, he still wanted to find even one person who believed him, so he was restless. It was the captain who was complaining even more than Christoph, yelling: “I’M TELLING THE TRUTH!”

Finally, on the flight back to Riyadh, the captain conducted a small survey with a few teammates sitting around him, and the results came in quickly. Christoph Tarten. Christoph Tarten. Christoph Tarten… Unanimous agreement.

Bitterly facing the reality that no one believed him, the captain nudged Christoph in the ribs with his elbow.

“Even if Richard Tarten is the head of your family, do you have to cover for him to the point of taking the blame for murder?”

Yet, the only reaction Christoph gave him was a cold glance down at the arm resting against his side.

“Don’t touch me.”

“…”

The captain quietly withdrew his hand, suddenly remembering that Christoph hated being touched.

“But I’m telling the truth…,” – The captain mumbled helplessly, finding himself alone even the supposed murderer wasn’t on his side.

Debbie, sitting opposite the captain, right next to Christoph, seemed to feel sorry for him so she leaned forward, looked him straight in the eye, and clicked her tongue.

“Well, it’s because the captain misunderstood during a conversation that was easily misunderstood, right? Honestly, the captain’s ‘taking the blame for murder’ is already a contradiction. What’s so bad about murder for Chris?”

“Even if I killed thousands upon thousands of people, if people say I killed someone I didn’t, I’d still feel wronged!”

“But people are saying Chris killed! And look, you can tell just by looking at his face. Richard Tarten, a man with such a gentle appearance, how could he kill anyone?”

“What about Christoph then? Does this guy look like a killer? If someone with this face were to kill, no one would believe it!”

Christoph was still quietly reading the newspaper in the middle, while the two people on either side of him were arguing fiercely. Finally, when Walden exasperatedly said: “Our client is sitting in the front compartment, you know? The partition on this private jet is very thin!”, the captain finally fell silent. Even so, he still seemed unsettled, so he glared at Christoph and said heavily,

“Don’t live so carelessly. What has become of your reputation!”

“Thank you for your concern, but instead of worrying about my reputation, you should worry about your own future.”

Christoph replied calmly without looking up from his newspaper.

“My future? What about it?”

“It’s almost the end of the year, contracts will be renewed, and because you dared to lie in front of the client, there will definitely be a salary adjustment.”

Christoph flipped the newspaper and muttered: “It’s better to think about a salary decrease rather than an increase”, causing the captain’s throat to tighten. Soon after, he grumbled: “The one with the messed-up contract is taking it out on me…”, then leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

At this point, Christoph glanced at the captain, but it seemed the captain had decided to sleep, so he didn’t notice the look and just sighed loudly.

“…”

Christoph also frowned and sighed.

Who killed whom, so what?

The actual amount of money received remains the same.

Whether Christoph Tarten killed or Richard Tarten killed, the Tarten family would still compensate. And that was precisely what Rashid wanted.

It didn’t matter. Perhaps Rashid and most people cared about the compensation, but for Christoph or Richard, it didn’t matter at all. What mattered was the perfunctory apology that had to accompany the money.

That’s why.

“I killed him.”

Christoph suddenly muttered to himself in a frustrated voice. The captain seemed to be truly asleep, only the sound of even breathing could be heard.

He couldn’t stand the sight of the head of the Tarten family – Richard – bowing his head to someone else. Christoph thought he would rather personally blow that bastard Rashid’s brains out. So, this way was much better. He even thought he should have done this from the start.

The conclusion was that Assar was killed by Christoph Tarten.

Christoph himself had no complaints about that conclusion. It could even be said it was what he wanted.

However.

――It’s almost the end of the year.

Right before leaving Vienna, Richard had to leave ahead of the Al Faisal group because of some business. He put on his last vest and said he had to go home right away. Christoph, leaning against the door and observing him from head to toe, also coldly advised: “Looking like that, you shouldn’t go anywhere else today but straight home”, then nodded, and suddenly realized this year was also coming to an end.

Richard looked at his reflection in the mirror with a cold gaze for a moment, but then he gave up and walked out of the bedroom, and continued,

“I’ve been busy lately, but I’ll try to finish my work before the end of the year and come to Riyadh.”

Hans, who had prepared everything and was waiting for Richard in the living room, widened his eyes when he heard Richard say he would spend the end-of-year holidays there. “The end of the year is incredibly busy, even if you work hard from now until then, working non-stop every day, it would be difficult to have a holiday like that?!” Hans protested with wide eyes, but Richard only responded with a clearly indifferent tone: “Oh, is that so?”

“Then I’ll just have to work harder to stay on schedule, Hans. I must go to Riyadh at the end of the year.”

Richard replied. He completely ignored Hans’s objection. Seeing Hans only able to widen his eyes without daring to ask why, Richard nodded for him to come along and turned back to look at Christoph.

“The second week of January is the contract expiration, right? I’ll come and help you pack at the end of the year.”

“…”

Christoph’s eyes suddenly dimmed. But Richard didn’t seem to notice – or how could he not notice – smiled and said: “Well then, I’ll see you at the end of the year. Take care,” then kissed Christoph lightly on the cheek before turning away.

Along with a mountain of troublesome work and the sudden huge compensation payment – perhaps this alone was enough to double the workload – now even his holidays until the end of the year were gone, Hans staggered after Richard with a haggard expression. His voice was also gloomy as he gave only a brief farewell: “Goodbye, Christoph.”

After the two left the room, Christoph was left alone in the large space. Only the promise to meet again at the end of the year remained.

“…”

Whether he had killed Assar or Assar’s grandfather didn’t matter. But this made Christoph a little sad. Richard’s perfunctory response.

“So, you’re quitting after all?”

Salam, sitting in the front row, leaned back slightly and asked. Christoph suddenly remembered that this guy had also cheerfully said he would help him pack. Thinking that perhaps the two of them were quite compatible, Christoph replied coldly: “Perhaps.”

Jack, sitting next to Salam, corrected him: “You should say ‘fired’.” Christoph didn’t care what they wanted to say.

Christoph had to show some semblance of remorse for killing Assar. Al Faisal had said that even something small would do. And this was that small token.

Leaving Al Faisal and leaving Riyadh.

In this case, even if Christoph wanted to stay, Al Faisal would have fired him as a way to express their meager condolences, but the result was the same.

“I see.…So you really are packing.”

Salam seemed a little regretful, then clicked his tongue and muttered, “Guess I’ll have to adjust my end-of-year schedule,” while taking out his notebook.

Contract renewal cancelled. Job lost. After the new year, Christoph would be unemployed. It wasn’t what Christoph wanted, but…

“…”

“Well, whatever.” – Christoph mumbled and folded the newspaper he had just finished reading, tucking it into the seat pocket.

Whatever. This was fine.

Richard had smiled. When saying goodbye to Christoph before leaving Vienna, he had promised to see him in Riyadh at the end of the year – perhaps they wouldn’t see each other in Riyadh after that – and smiled.

It was a smile he had never seen before. Not a forced smile, but a truly happy one. A smile that lit up his eyes and the corners of his mouth as he looked forward to seeing him again in a month or two.

That was enough. If that man could smile like that.

Christoph thought that was enough.

He leaned back slightly in his seat and closed his eyes. Six and a half hours to Riyadh. Not a short distance.

Christoph sighed softly as he thought about the person who had constantly traveled that distance.

“Hey, there’s something I’ve been wondering about…”

Salam whispered hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should say it or not. Christoph, who had his eyes closed but wasn’t asleep, opened them slightly and looked at him.

Salam had turned in his seat, facing Christoph completely. More precisely, he was staring intently at the back of Christoph’s neck.

“That’s a little obvious…, couldn’t you do something about it? Like put a band-aid on it or something?”

Christoph looked at Salam with a puzzled expression as he glanced around furtively. Salam looked at Christoph’s face, which didn’t seem to understand what he had just said, then rummaged through his bag and took out an electronic notebook. Christoph looked at the powered-off electronic notebook with a look that said, ‘What is it?’, but then he saw his own reflection on the glossy black screen.

“…”

Christoph silently touched the back of his neck. Although it wasn’t as clear a reflection as a real mirror, he could see the mottled marks. On his nape, from below his earlobe to the part hidden by his clothes, there were four or five bruises.

As Salam muttered: “No band-aids, band-aids…” and continued to rummage through his bag, the captain, whom everyone thought was asleep, suddenly spoke:

“Putting those on would make it even more obvious.”

Both Salam and Christoph stopped moving for a moment, simultaneously looking at the captain who still had his eyes closed and was breathing evenly. But apart from that sentence, the captain remained motionless in that posture, as if sound asleep.

“…True.”

Salam, who had just taken out a band-aid, put it away again. He muttered: “So everyone has seen it already…, well, how could they not…”, then looked at Christoph’s furrowed brows and tightly pursed lips, a sullen expression he’d had since looking at the screen, and tried to comfort him:

“Well, it’s okay once in a while. Even if it leaves a mark, it’ll disappear in a few days.”

Although he was the one who told Christoph to do something about it because it was too obvious, after realizing that everyone had seen it and it was already in the past, Salam suddenly seemed unconcerned and said: “Just leave it”, quickly snatching the electronic notebook from Christoph’s hand.

Even after that, Christoph still tilted his head and touched his nape with a gloomy expression. Strange, something wasn’t right.

The moment he saw the bruises on his neck, a bad feeling flashed through his mind, something was wrong, but he couldn’t remember what it was.

Christoph was lost in thought, ‘What is it, what is it?’, when he suddenly froze upon hearing Salam’s casual words: “Don’t worry. It’s not like it happens often, only every two or three months.” Perhaps because Christoph looked a little pathetic at that moment, or perhaps because he was the one who brought it up and felt a little guilty.

Only then did Christoph suddenly recall the words he himself had spoken casually.

“——Practice.”

“——Whenever I see you, I’ll indulge you to the fullest.”

“…”

Suddenly remembering he had said such things. Christoph’s face turned pale, but because his skin was already fair, no one noticed. That was back when he still firmly believed they would only see each other about every three or four months.

“——I also feel a little guilty. For what’s about to happen…”

As the memories surged back like potatoes being pulled from the ground along with their vines*, Christoph’s face grew even paler.

(*줄기에 감자가 줄줄 딸려 오는 것처럼: Like when you pull up a potato plant and the potatoes come up one after another, clinging to the stem. A metaphor for the successive resurgence of memories when something triggers the mind.)

He felt like he had been tricked. That shameless face didn’t show any remorse despite apologizing, and thinking back now, it was clearly intentional from the beginning. He had planned all of this from that moment.

But it was too late to say anything now. Someone like Christoph, who had known Richard for over thirty years and understood him better than anyone, knew for certain that Richard wouldn’t believe him if he said he didn’t know anything.

“…What am I going to do…”

Christoph muttered with pale lips.

It was so difficult. Just two hours back then and he had felt his whole body go numb, as if he couldn’t bear it. He had thought that seeing each other every three or four months would be okay.

As he kept thinking about it, even the resentments that had been forgotten in the panic of that day resurfaced one after another, like potatoes being pulled up by their stems.

Yes, after having sex in the shower, when Christoph told him he was tired and wanted to stop, he had whispered in a sweet, kittenish voice: “Just one more time. I’ll only put it in one more time.” But then he had done it so many more times that Christoph couldn’t remember clearly. If questioned, he would surely reply nonchalantly with a brazen face: “I only put it in once. I just didn’t pull it out.”

That’s the kind of person he was.

Even though he knew what kind of person he was and still let himself be tricked, he could only blame himself.

“What am I going to do…”

Christoph murmured with a pale face.

While Christoph stared blankly into space with a worried expression, repeatedly muttering: “What am I going to do” without finding an answer, Salam, perhaps having heard those murmurs, casually said from the front row:

“Right. What are you going to do after your contract ends? You’ll probably go back to Dresden, right? Well, since you caused this incident and quit your job, probably no one will hire you for a while.”

Salam consoled Christoph sincerely: “It’s a good thing your family is rich, you don’t have to worry about food and clothing”, but his voice sounded increasingly distant to Christoph’s ears.