121 — My Insanity’s an Artist III

History has a nasty habit of repeating itself, and for me the cycle continued as if nothing was amiss. Having seen the signs with Mia, I should have recognized them earlier. But I guess that's hindsight talking.

It's like driving the same route every day. You know the big landmarks: the sharp bend, the traffic lights that always turn red, the place where you once had an accident. You remember those. But the little things—the faded sign you're supposed to notice, the pothole that's crept a bit farther into the lane, the way the sun blinds you at that exact spot in the afternoon—those slip your mind until you're on top of them again.

The car swerves, you overcorrect, you spin off the road.

Every time, a stupid mistake.

Ah, but I didn't consider my affair with Mia a mistake, just moral wrongdoing. Like I had the right to act freely and decide, to say to hell with morality and embrace the craving to experience the depraved side of human nature. So, from the perspective of a killer, who doesn't have the constraints of an ethical compass, it wasn't a mistake.

But Su Ah quietly slipping into my radar wasn't the same kind of crash. It wasn't the same type of impact that hit me, but just the pure coincidence of fate. A sudden storm forming, an unexpected and overwhelming development of an unfathomably powerful weather pattern.

So, was it a mistake with Su Ah?

Yes.

No.

In the moment, no, because, obviously, I couldn't preach what I clearly didn't practice and thus was a massive hypocrite.

At the same time, yes, because Su Ah's involvement, on top of Mia's, could very well snowball out of hand to a massive degree. Not in the moral aspect of things; but even from my skewed perspective, I could tell how razor thin and tenuous the line was already being stretched, between us all, so one little shove, no matter how insignificant or irrelevant in my eyes, could send the fragile balance toppling over and unleash absolute chaos.

"......"

I watched her twist that strand of hair, cheeks flushed, as she idly followed me around. Where? I had no idea, my feet, traitorous bastards, moved without my own conscious input.

"Jae-il..."

I told myself I was being careful.

I told myself I was the safer option.

I told myself a lot of things.

That was I was protecting her, that I had some form of control over this whole ordeal, that my participation would at least keep the potential damage to a minimum, that I could draw the line somewhere. Anywhere.

The problem was that the line I thought I could draw was already blurry. And as I watched my older sister, the quiet, cynical, thoughtful Su Ah, walk beside me, her shoulders set with a feigned casualness that didn't quite hide the tremor in her hands, I realised something.

The line had been drawn long ago.

Mia had stepped over it first.

And now Su Ah was standing right on the edge, toes curled over the precipice, looking at me not like a brother, but like a destination.

A choice.

A mistake waiting to happen.

Again.

"Jae-il..."

From a purely scientific, psychological standpoint, I was curious to know why and how the human brain can look at something it has always labelled forbidden and suddenly re-file it as possible.

I wanted to know at what exact second the switch flips.

At what precise moment an innocent touch of the arm turns into a firm, painful grip.

A passing glance into an obsessive, unblinking gaze.

At which point desire goes from a theoretical state to something tactile.

Was I doing something differently that suddenly made my sisters view me like that? Was I giving some sort of signal to them I wasn't even aware of? When did it start? Where would it stop? Was this... permanent?

I kept walking. She kept pace. Streetlights slid over us in slow yellow pools, then left us in the dark again.

Was she also seeing the signs in Mia, with me? Was that what prompted this request of hers?

"Jae—"

I stopped. Su Ah nearly crashed against my back, skidding to an uncertain halt. I could smell the citrus-sweetness of her soap, the flower-fresh scent of her perfume.

She inhaled shakily, swallowing.

"What's with you?"

She didn't even meet my eyes properly. She retreated behind that haughty, cynical mask. Arms crossed. Hair tossed over her shoulder in a perfect black cascade. Those pursed, stubborn lips, and furrowed brows. She looked, if I dare say, ridiculously pretty. Not quite objectively so, but guiltily so.

I turned fully toward her. The street was empty. Just us and the low hum of a distant vending machine, buzzing yellow, then blue, then yellow again. The light painted her profile in fleeting strokes.

Her eyes did this nervous dance, flitting up, touching mine for a split second before dropping to the ground again. A bead of sweat shimmered on her temple.

"You started this." I said, voice low, resentfully so, because fuck. "You don't get to look away now."

A huff, half-laugh, half-scoff. "I'm not looking away."

"You are."

She lifted her chin, defiant, arms crossed. Su Ah and Mia's images juxtaposed. "Fine. I'm looking. Happy?"

No. Not happy. Something darker than happy.

"......"

She gulped, mindlessly wetting her lips as she looked around. A dead end, back alley. It was swathed in complete darkness, save for the vending machine providing barely adequate illumination.

Had I been a stranger, she'd have been running for her life.

"Are... are we doing it?" Su Ah asked. Her lips were parted, a shallow exhalation of air following after her words, slightly erratic and excited.

"Isn't that what you wanted, Noona?"

Her throat constricted at my words.

I watched it flex with her dry swallow, then the subtle bob of her head. She knew this wasn't appropriate. Perhaps not as much as her other older sister did, who seemed to have completely thrown herself over to the abyss of depravity from the very beginning.

Still...

Still.

Despite the obvious hesitation, she stood there, not even flinching when I took her arm and led her to a darker, more concealed space in the darkest corner. It was fitting, in a sense. This shitty back alley represented where our morals went to die.

"So? How far should we go, Noona?" I asked, throwing a glance towards the main road, in case any wandering drunk idiot came about to barge into this area.

My question seemed to finally shock the girl out of her nervous spell.

"... Uhm." She played around with a lock of her hair, cheeks tinging a bit brighter. She tried to compose herself, slip back into that casual demeanor. "Well, since we're outside, it should feel… stolen. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong person. So. Yeah. I mean." She exhaled. "Like the characters know someone could walk past any second and see."

"......"

I merely stared at her.

Su Ah forced the rest out before the shame got the best of her. "She keeps squirming. Not because she's scared of him, but because she's scared of how much she isn't scared. He pins her wrists to the wall, one hand is enough for both, so she feels how much stronger he is. She pretends to fight it. Tiny twists, little pushes, nothing real. Just enough to make herself believe she still has a choice."

"......"

"Then he kisses her. It isn't even close to gentle. He steals it like the jerk the reader wants him to be. And, well, it should be different from our very first time trying it out, Jae-il. As I said, readers want that little bit of spice. So, ahem, I've heard that French people use their tongue a lot during... kisses?" She scrunched up her nose, almost as if the idea of it disgusted her.

A pathetic attempt at subterfuge.

Silence followed.

"So..."

She clicked her tongue, still unable to look directly at my eyes. "Did you understand it correctly? It's the premise, the scenario. This will be in chapter ten, I think. First kiss between the main characters."

"......"

"Will you say something already?!"

Her cheeks were inflamed with a fierce crimson blush and yet she still, surprisingly, maintained eye contact for more than two seconds straight, no matter how uncomfortable it may have been for her. Or for me. Shit.

I really didn't think this would turn out so fucking ridiculous. Perhaps I should've refused earlier. Put my foot down and insist this was the one and only boundary she shouldn't cross.

I may have done so had I not already crossed it with Mia. So deny one sister, encourage the other?

That... didn't seem fair.

Sure, Su Ah merely wanted the experience for the sake of writing and portraying a scene. As for Mia and I, we had something concrete, not based on mere experimental basis.

Ah. This was the shit storm I got myself into, huh.

The alley had a tangy, damp smell. Our breath plumed faintly. Somewhere a cat knocked over a bottle; glass rolled, clinked, stopped. My eyes flicked briefly towards the mouth of the alley, just to make extra sure, then back towards Su Ah. Her eyes trembled faintly, her fists barely visible over the sleeves of her hoodie.

"Jae-il... then..."

I nodded.

"Show me."

Her trembling pupils stilled for a moment, then settled down.

Shoes dragged against the ground.

"Like this." Su Ah took a step back, then another, until the brick wall scraped against her hoodie. I could imagine that leaning on the wall finally gave her some modicum of stability; her knees had been shaking. "Jae-il. Come closer."