09. EQUALITY BEFORE DEATH

The Maserati turned and parked in front of Jira’s dorm. The late afternoon light, combined with the building’s worn, old condition, gave the place a vibe straight out of a horror film. The thin young man unbuckled his seatbelt, ready to get out, but Ko pressed the lock button, preventing the door from opening easily.

“Do you live here?” Ko asked. “Yes, so what?” Jira replied.
“I pay you well. Why not move somewhere better?” Ko said, his sharp gaze studying the building through the window.

“Want me to move into a five-star hotel like you?” “Why the sarcasm?”
“Can I go now?”

“Take the trophy with you.” “It’s yours.”
“You received it, so keep it.”

“Fine,” Jira agreed, no longer wanting to argue after reading the other’s mood.

Jira got out of the car, trophy in hand, and walked toward the dorm with his head down. The luxury vehicle pulled away, heading back to the city center.

…

The tall man returned to his penthouse. His steps crossed the darkness until he reached a secret room behind the bedroom. He switched on the light, revealing a painting on an easel-painted by Jira. It was framed in high-quality handcrafted wood. The warm, yellowish light illuminated the artwork. Ko stared at it without looking away, soon noticing the flowers surrounding the figure in the painting.

He couldn’t identify the type of flowers. In fact, he had no intention of figuring it out. He simply stood there, silently observing.

As Ko immersed himself in the painting, which seemed like a dream brought to life, the doorbell rang, signaling someone’s arrival. He turned and left the secret room, finding his close friend Pheem already inside the apartment.

“Did you call me for something?” Pheem asked.

“I think tonight you need to gather the team to monitor social media. There was a little incident at the award ceremony.”

“What happened?” Pheem tilted his head, intrigued. “They threw urine at me.”
“WHAT!? Damn! Are you okay?” Pheem scanned him from head to toe.

“I’m fine, but I want you to personally clean up everything circulating online.” “I’m already doing it. I’ll tell the team.”
“No. I don’t want any traces from anyone else in the company. For high-level matters like this, it should just be you and me involved.”

Ko pulled out his phone and played a clip of the chaos on stage for Pheem to see. The ceremony had been grand, with an unexpected twist. While Ko had been on edge in the car, unsure how to handle it, Pheem, seeing the video for the first time, grew even more alarmed upon realizing the victim was Jira and the aggressor, Win.

“This…” Pheem stammered, “this is insane.”

Without further explanation, he went out to the balcony to make a call. Fortunately, Ko didn’t ask questions, allowing Pheem to contact Jira with concern.

“Hello, are you okay? I saw the clip,” he said in a serious voice after Jira answered.

[Today was a total disaster. Are you free? Come see me.] Jira’s pleading tone softened Pheem’s heart.

“Sure. Where’s good? Burnout Bar?” “I’m coming now.”
“Okay… let me finish something quickly and I’ll be there.” Pheem hung up. Turning back, he ran into Ko, who was on the balcony.
“Where are you going?” Ko asked. Attempting to avoid him only provoked his anger. “Don’t run away. Going to Burnout Bar? How much burnout do you have?”
“Is it any of your business? Leave it.” “Earlier you said you weren’t close to Jira.”
“I’m not, but he was attacked. Who wouldn’t be upset?”

“And how will talking to him help?” Ko didn’t let Pheem respond, speaking firmly. His attitude left no doubt he was serious.

“Don’t interfere with my people. I’ll talk to him myself. Or do you want me to say it for you?” Pheem glared at his supposed friend, while Ko faced him without backing down.
…

Jira arrived at Burnout Bar after coordinating with Pheem by phone. He went straight to the bar, where they greeted each other casually.

“Hey, you’re late today,” Ben said.

“Today was horrible, Phi. Can you smell me closely? I’m not sure,” Jira asked. “What?”
“Please,” Jira insisted. Confused, Ben leaned closer to sniff near his hair. “Do you smell anything weird?”
“Nothing unusual.”

“I must be imagining it. Phi… someone threw urine at me,” Jira confessed. Ben looked astonished, making Jira feel even more insecure despite having showered. He wanted to rid himself of the feeling.

“Do you have something that can help me?”

Ben smiled mischievously. Five minutes later, Jira was outside with a bottle of vodka in hand. On impulse, he poured some into his palm and ran it through his hair, soaking it, trying to mask any trace of odor with the alcohol.

“Damn it, why does this happen to me?” he complained.

As he ranted at life, car headlights lit him up, forcing him to look up. A vehicle parked in the bar lot. Jira assumed it was a customer, but he was surprised to see Ko step out.

Ko got out with a neutral expression. The curious thing was the car; he probably didn’t use the Maserati to avoid cleaning it after the incident. He had chosen another European car. Sometimes, Ko hated his own wealth-changing cars was far too easy.

“Are you so bad off that you have to get drunk like this?” he asked.

They stared at each other. Jira, initially surprised, soon grew irritated. He wanted to retort, but couldn’t. Instead, he raised the vodka bottle and drank, defiantly.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Pheem told me. He asked me to find you since he couldn’t come,” Ko explained, clearly reluctant.

“Come inside and talk to me.”

With that, the tall man walked into the bar, leaving Jira outside, running his wet hair through his fingers as he tried to understand what was happening.

Inside, the bar had a relaxed atmosphere. The table they sat at carried a soft, creamy scent, as if the place was designed to make you feel better effortlessly. The soft background music did little to calm Jira’s nerves.

The young man studied Ko’s movements for a few seconds until the taller man placed a rose he had brought on the table, sliding it toward him as if to apologize.

“For you.”

“For what?” Jira asked sharply. “Do you like it?”
“Are you trying to apologize?”

Ko shrugged. He did, in fact, care about the other’s feelings. What had happened that day had completely overwhelmed him.

“A red rose. How clich . Is that the best you could pick?” “I saw it in one of your drawings.”
Jira paused to think. His last drawing wasn’t even finished, which meant Ko hadn’t seen it. If he meant the first drawing he sold, the flower in it wasn’t a rose. It was…

“It was a tulip.”

“Ah…” Ko swallowed, unsure what to say. “It’s your business now. What you do with it.”
“Are you done talking? If you’re finished, you can go.” “I’m not done. I want you to sleep with me tonight.” “Do you still have the nerve to ask that?”
“If I don’t sleep tonight, the following days I won’t have the energy to be your model.” Jira was stunned by such an excuse.
“You got a prize today. You did well. So, in exchange, I offer to be your model once more.” “Sounds fine, but I don’t feel like it today. Your inability to sleep is your problem.”
Jira hadn’t completely let go of his anger yet. After observing him for a moment, Ko decided to try a softer approach.

“I’ll give you a chance. Just tonight. You can insult me or vent however you want, and I won’t get mad.”

Jira narrowed his eyes, keeping his gaze fixed on Ko. For him, that was indeed a tempting offer.

“Can I vent however I want?”

“Yes. Isn’t that the therapeutic method here?” “Are you sure you can handle it?”
The tall man shrugged. Jira’s eyes fell to the drink on the table. In front of Ko sat a glass of wine, while a bottle of vodka rested before him. After a moment’s thought, he picked up the wine glass and hurled it at Ko, emptying it completely over his body.

The bar’s patrons jumped in surprise. Only the man soaked in red wine raised his alcohol-drenched hand in a relaxed gesture. He didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

“Lucky I wasn’t in the mood to pee.”

“Good. So we’re even, right? Tonight, if I call, you have to answer.” “Whether I answer or not is my business.”
Ko smiled sarcastically, delighted to see someone so furious that he looked like steam was coming out of his ears.

…

“What the hell are you doing turning on the light?”

The bedroom door slammed open. The switch was flipped. A nearly six-foot-tall man stomped in, heading straight for someone peacefully asleep in bed. The light woke him, and, yawning, he sat up to curse. Mawin glanced at the clock.

“It’s three in the morning. Why are you so late, idiot?” “Because I had to go delete the video you caused.” “What video?”
“The pee video.”

“And didn’t he deserve it? If he was going to kick everyone out, I think that was nothing.”

Mawin still hadn’t realized the colossal mistake he’d made, while Pheem could only sigh at his friend’s recklessness.

“You’re unbelievably stupid. How did they even let you at the event? Nothing happened to you?”

“At first, they stopped me, but I got lucky. Someone called to sort things out with the officials, so they let me go. I guess the pee had an effect, don’t you think?”

“What positive effect? The person you threw it at wasn’t Ko! It was the one I was talking to!”

“Shit!” Mawin fell backward, but Pheem didn’t let him off. He grabbed his arm and continued scolding him relentlessly.

“Damn it! More than fate, this was an absurd coincidence.”

“Idiot… don’t you think someone like Ko would ever expose himself publicly? Use your brain, please.”

“So mysterious he sends a double? That’s impressive.”

“You can’t predict it. Don’t do stuff like this again. In the end, I’m the one who has to fix everything.”

“Do you think I could call to apologize? Maybe it’ll make things a little better.”

Just imagining the moment he had thrown the urine bag with all his strength made the satisfaction vanish instantly, leaving only guilt and shame. Luckily, he had drunk little water that day, so it was only one bag. If he’d been well-hydrated, the condition of the guy Pheem had been speaking to would have been too grotesque to imagine.

“Want to make me even angrier? It’s three in the morning. Go to sleep, idiot.”

Pheem gave Mawin a slap on the head, turned off the light, and walked firmly to his room.

The cause of the disaster was left alone, heart still pounding, releasing a long sigh. Deep down, he felt relieved to have survived another day.

 

3:30 A.M.

Ko, in his pajamas, stared at the device in his hands, restless. Since returning from Burnout Bar, he had tried several times to push Jira out of his mind. But every ten minutes, the image of the smaller boy, soaked in liquids, returned to torment him.

Another sleepless night. Ko had turned the computer on and off repeatedly, until finally he got up and went to the drink station, where a bottle of sleeping pills sat among other items. He hesitated, then decided against taking them, returning to his bedroom to collapse exhausted onto the bed.

Insomnia still haunted him. But more than that, it was the emotional unease he couldn’t calm. Finally, crushed by the weight of his feelings, he couldn’t resist any longer and decided to call that person in the middle of the night.

He waited. One second. Two seconds. Three… like counting sheep to fall asleep. But Ko didn’t expect to sleep. He just wanted to feel at peace.

Finally, the wait ended. Jira answered. Although his voice sounded clearly irritated, it was that very voice that instantly calmed the storm in Ko’s heart.

“Do you know what time it is? What do you want at this hour?”

The tall man sat up, leaning against the headboard with a tired expression. “I can’t sleep.”
“And what do you want me to do?”

“What are you doing now? It’s three in the morning, and you’re not sleeping either.”

Ko didn’t hang up. He stubbornly refused, changing the topic to keep talking to Jira. Given the calm atmosphere, the smaller boy found it difficult to refuse him.

“I’m coloring a drawing.” “What drawing?” “Yours.”
“Oh, yeah? And what part are you painting now? Tell me a little.”

A long sigh came from the other side of the line. Ko let out a small laugh. Still, Jira was kind enough to describe the details of the drawing he was coloring, while the young man could only imagine it.

“In the drawing, you look very peaceful while sleeping. Do you know why?” “Tell me.”
“Sleeping, you pose no threat. And I hate you with all my soul when you’re awake.” “Congratulations. At least you have someone like me adding color to your life.”
Ko pictured Jira’s face, surely furrowed with obvious annoyance. Meanwhile, the boy’s hand gripped the brush, dipped it in paint, and traced lines across the paper freely. The image Ko built in his mind helped him relax considerably.

“Have you closed your eyes yet?” “Not yet.”
“How are you supposed to sleep then? Close your eyes right now.” “Do you dare order me around?” Ko ruffled his hair.
“And how do you plan to sleep? Have you closed them yet?”

The tall body slowly slid down to lie on the mattress, resting his head on the pillow in the most comfortable position to sleep. He closed his eyes, obeying the order from the other side of the line, while his lips continued to murmur, wanting to know everything.

“So, how does the story continue? My drawing’s story.” “Even if I tell you, you won’t be able to imagine it.” “Perfect. That way, when I see it, I’ll still be surprised.”
“Yes, yes…” Jira responded with a soft laugh. He paused a moment before speaking.

“I’m coloring you. In the drawing, you’re asleep, naked, on a pile of fabrics. They’re soft fabrics, so soft that no one could wake from that dream.”

“Am I naked again?”

“You’re the one who always undresses in front of me, aren’t you?” “And what else?”
“You’re vulnerable. Sleeping, waiting for someone to help you fall into slumber.”

Ko let himself get carried away by the image. He asked in a sleepy voice, “Does someone come to help me?”

“No.”

“I’d like to see it. Could you draw it again for me?”

Jira hesitated. Then, he let the silence speak for itself.

Ko, waiting for a response, could only hear the brush touching the water cup, the subtle noise of something he couldn’t identify. But one thing was clear: Jira was drawing exactly what he had asked for.

The tall man didn’t know how much time had passed. Maybe it was near dawn, or maybe only ten minutes had gone by. He didn’t want to look at the clock. He closed his eyes, letting only the sound from afar reach him.

Finally, the small boy’s clear voice filtered gently through:

“I’m drawing. There’s an angel about to come and give you a kiss so you can sleep.” “Why does he come to help me?”
“Because he knows you’re fragile. And that you’re not as cruel as you seem.”

Ko’s lips curved into a smile. For years, many had considered him cruel. Someone had even told him so directly. But that same person had managed to see what lay deep in his heart-so deep that no one else had ever seen it.

“Are you still there?”

Jira asked. But at that moment, Ko didn’t respond. “Ko…?”
“Well, I managed to put someone to sleep from afar.”

The young man slept peacefully on the bed, phone still connected, resting beside the pillow.

…

Jira’s balcony roses bloomed with dazzling beauty. Upon waking, he opened his eyes wide in surprise. He walked to the balcony, hair messy, clothes wrinkled.

He had rested two full days without any interruptions from Ko. No calls, no persistent messages asking him to return to work. He had even received the agreed payment on time.

His heart, once wounded, could now recover and shine again as before. “Yeeeeeei!” he exclaimed happily, spraying water on the flowers.
Soon after, his phone rang with a notification. Seeing it was Pheem, he answered immediately with a sweet voice.

“Hello?”

[What are you doing?] “Watering the plants.”
Since the urine-bag incident, Pheem hadn’t stopped calling every day to apologize, as he couldn’t visit him at Burnout Bar. Jira wasn’t upset at all. In fact, he understood perfectly that Ko was the true culprit.

“I’m free today. Can I come see you?” Pheem asked, a note of hope in his voice.

No notifications or scheduled appointments with Ko appeared in his agenda, which meant he had the day free. But still, Jira had to decline the offer. Though the upset from the incident had faded somewhat, he wasn’t in the mood to go out.

“I’m still a little annoyed today. I was thinking of drawing to clear my mind.” [Ah, then I won’t bother you. Let me know when you’re free.]
“All right. Thanks for caring.”

After hanging up, he focused on the flowers, competing with each other to bloom in beauty. He took the opportunity to water them and relax, until his peace was interrupted by a second call. This time, it was Ko.

“What do you want?” Jira answered dryly. [I’m free today. You can come draw me.]
“And you think someone would come without notice? I’m not in the mood.” [So you’re not coming?]
“Exactly.”

The conversation began and ended in an instant. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to seize the opportunity-perhaps the last to perfect his art-but some things had limits. His energy had been spent at the awards ceremony. If he was going to start again, it had to be with a clear mind.

…

Jira spent the day watering plants, eating, cleaning the room, washing dishes, and finally sat at his desk to draw Pheem. He knew the advice of others was valuable and sought a new muse. If it worked, he would fulfill his desire, as Pheem was someone he admired and who inspired him.

Jira experimented with different tones to paint Pheem, searching for the one that best reflected his essence.

Knock, knock, knock.

A knock at the door interrupted him. Frowning, he wondered who could visit at this hour. Even his friends usually gave notice. With a thousand questions racing through his mind, he opened the door and was surprised to see Ko standing there.

“What are you doing here!”

Before he could finish, Ko entered without permission, prompting Jira to protest: “Hey, hey, no one invited you! Get out right now!”
Ko looked at him with tired, half-closed eyes, acting like a professional actor, but Jira wasn’t falling for it.

“Do I really have to leave? I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Is it a good idea for me to drive now?”

“If you came, you can also leave.”

“I really can’t. Can I rest a moment? If I recover, I’ll leave.”

Seeing Ko’s fatigue and dark circles, Jira reluctantly relented, allowing him to stay even though he didn’t want to.

When Ko was led to Jira’s bedroom, he hadn’t had the chance to inspect it before and had to wait. Luckily, he remembered Jira had posted a teasing photo of his room labeled “69.” This time, visiting, he took the opportunity to look around. He noticed the art equipment and the trophy on a shelf. Jira grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and offered it.

“Here, drink some water, to feel better.”

Ko drank half the bottle and walked to the balcony, where a spotless mat awaited. His eyes widened in amazement at the freshly bloomed roses and orchids. Curious, he asked:

“When I gave you roses before, you didn’t like them. Why so many plants now?” “It’s not that I didn’t like them entirely,” Jira replied.
Ko sat on the mat, relaxing.

“Is the painting you did the other day finished? Can I see it?” “Wait.”
Jira took the drawing, still on its board, and handed it to Ko. “You’ll like it. I already spoiled it for you.”
“I don’t know if I…”

Ko took the drawing and studied it silently. Despite his exhaustion, the painting stirred a wave of emotions within him. As Jira had anticipated, Ko already knew part of the content, but seeing it complete left him speechless at its emotional beauty.

His eyes noticed the delicate details on the paper-the colors, the curved lines that seemed free and natural. Especially the face, soft and tender, in contrast to his hard exterior. Looking closer, tears filled his eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did it surprise you enough to make you cry?” joked Jira. Ignoring the comment, Ko lost himself in the meaning of the drawing.
“How did you do it? Tell me.”

“When you were sleeping on the clothes, I felt you were just a person without any danger,” Jira explained. Ko tilted his head as if to argue, but Jira interrupted him seriously.

“I forgot who you were, your status, your wealth. In that moment, you were just you.” “And this?” Ko asked, pointing to the angel in the drawing.
Jira lowered his gaze following Ko’s slender finger and replied:

“At first, I was going to draw you sleeping, but since you wanted a story, I added an angel that flies, covers you with a cloth, and gives you a gentle kiss.”

“Is that angel you? You saw me sleep and wanted to kiss me?” Ko teased with a provocative smile, but Jira countered:

“In this drawing, I painted you dead. Would I kiss a dead person?” “How many times have you killed me in your drawings?”
“It’s not that. The composition comes from a painting called Equality Before Death (*). Death is the only thing that equalizes humans.”

(*) Work by French artist William Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905), reflecting the idea that all people, regardless of social class, face death equally.

“I don’t fully understand, but how much do you want for this painting?”

“I’ll double the price because I drew two people,” Jira said playfully, challenging him in turn. “At what price?”
“Do you want it or not?” “Deal.”
Jira smiled widely, rolled up the drawing into a tube, and handed it to Ko, who watched the scene with a childlike delight.

Ko leaned back on the mat and suggested, “I see you like drawing me while I sleep. How about I fall asleep so you can paint me again?”

“I’m not drawing today. It’s my day off.”

“Alright. Can I use your balcony for a while? I haven’t slept all night; I’m exhausted…”

Jira finished putting away his things and, turning around, saw Ko had already fallen asleep on the balcony. He rushed over to wake him.

“Hey, don’t sleep here! The sunlight will burn you later!”

Surprised at how quickly he had fallen asleep, Jira tried tugging his arm, but it didn’t move. “Go sleep somewhere else!”
He grabbed a spray bottle and misted Ko’s hair, but got no response. Frustrated, he stopped and muttered to himself,

“Is he really… sleeping? Damn it.”

In the end, the owner of the room had to give up and simply watch in silence as the tall man sank into a deep sleep.

From Jira’s perspective in that moment, all he could see was Ko lying on the balcony mat, surrounded by flowers. Occasionally, when a breeze passed, the fully bloomed rose petals would drift gently onto the mat and over Ko’s body.

It was something he hadn’t expected to see, yet it was so beautiful that he couldn’t remain indifferent.

 

Jira sat cross-legged in the room, placing a sheet of paper on the floor and began sketching the tall man in view. Time passed-one hour, then two. Ko remained in a deep sleep, and Jira kept drawing in the same spot.

Knock, knock, knock.

In the silence that reigned, a new knock at the door echoed. Jira’s long face turned toward the entrance, but he didn’t move. He waited until a second knock came before getting up with curiosity to open the door.

“How did you get here?!”

He was surprised to see Pheem.

“Everyone wants to visit me today,” Jira thought, utterly bewildered.

“Sorry,” Pheem said, his face tense. His gaze softened when he noticed someone inside the room.

“I just came to see how you were, I didn’t think you’d be busy.”

Without further ado, Pheem closed the door and headed down the hallway, clearly annoyed. Jira, fearing a misunderstanding, ran after him. The tall man was waiting by the elevator.

“Wait, let me explain!”

“You don’t need to explain anything. Did you do something wrong?”

Pheem provoked him. As the elevator didn’t arrive, he headed toward the emergency stairs. Jira didn’t give up and followed closely.

“Stop, let’s talk first!”

Pheem didn’t slow down. Jira quickened his pace on the stairs to intercept him, slightly out of breath.

“Move aside!” said Pheem, trying to dodge him, but Jira moved with him, gripping his thick wrist, and they stared at each other. After a long moment, Pheem calmed down.

“What do you have to say?”

“I wanted to rest today, but Ko suddenly appeared in my room. I couldn’t refuse him.” “I didn’t say anything about that.”
“Then why did you run from me? If there’s something, just say it,” Jira insisted. Pheem pressed his lips together, and Jira took the opportunity to clarify: “There’s nothing. I’m just drawing him, that’s all.”
“Drawing is part of the company’s work? I just found out.”

“It’s a personal project,” Jira said. Pheem’s piercing eyes seemed to search for the truth.

“As I told you, I’m experimenting with new things depending on my mood. Didn’t you suggest that?”

“But… do you usually bring others into your room like this?”

“I already told you Ko came on his own!” Jira exclaimed. Pheem remained upright like a wall. “You came out so upset because you care about me, right?”
“Are you free this Saturday? If you don’t have plans, I’ll draw you. We can go out and draw together,” Jira proposed, though it sounded a little forceful. Pheem’s posture relaxed slightly, indicating the strategy was working.

“You’re a damn genius at manipulation.” “It’s not that. I just want to please you.”
“Alright, let’s go. But… is this a date or what?” Pheem teased.

Jira didn’t answer, only smiled. Their eyes met with depth, and Pheem nodded, satisfied.

 

On the balcony, Ko began opening his eyes slowly, dazed, and realized he was alone on the mat. He looked around, saw no one, and returned to the room. Then his gaze fell on a drawing on the floor. Though he didn’t understand its meaning and it was incomplete, he felt a quiet appreciation for it.

The door opened softly. The owner of the slim figure tried to enter stealthily, step by step, but was startled to see someone already watching him.

“Already awake?”

Jira hurried to take the drawing from Ko’s hands. “Finished, don’t look at it yet.”
“Not yet… Where did you go?”

“I went to stretch my legs. Thought I’d rest, but ended up drawing again.”

He complained, feeling miserable for acting like a slave to his art. If Ko discovered he had contacted Pheem in secret, everything would be ruined.

Everything he did wasn’t out of love for Ko. It was only the feeling of an employee forcing himself to work for money to achieve his dreams. At the same time, he wanted to connect with someone he liked-but unfortunately, the money owner and that person were friends. The situation was unbearable. Jira wanted to cry a thousand times.

“I have to go. I have work tonight,” said Ko, saying goodbye.

“Then go quickly.”

“Your room makes me sleep well. I should come more often.”

“Please, don’t. If you come again, I’ll actually move. Go back to sleep comfortably in your five-star hotel.”

“Ha, ha, fine. I left you alone today. You slept, I worked. Everyone’s happy!” “You’re the only happy one here,” murmured Jira.
Ko didn’t respond. He squinted at him before leaving the room with a cold air.

Once Ko’s figure disappeared from view, Jira picked up the drawing and looked at it, confused. He murmured to himself:

“It doesn’t have to be the same person I like. It could be anyone. And Ko will just be that.”