Chapter 64 Just the Two of Us Fleeing (1)
Chapter 64 Just the Two of Us Fleeing (1)
A trickle of water fell onto my fist, where the skin was slightly torn and bleeding.
"...Are you okay?"
The worried voice of the youngest mother came from above my head.
I weakly lifted my head, which had been hanging low, and looked up at the youngest mother, who was gazing down at me.
Our eyes met.
Suddenly, a wave of embarrassment surged, and we both turned our heads away at the same time.
"Does it hurt?"
The youngest mother asked me again after a moment.
I let the stream of water from the bottled water the youngest mother had brought from somewhere wash over my hand.
The blood washed away easily, but the sensation of punching the middle-aged man—the feeling of beating him beyond justifiable limits, the sensation of thrusting into the mothers—no matter how much I washed, it seemed to linger in my hands.
I had lost my temper too much over something trivial.
When working with the fourth mother, such incidents were frequent due to her foul temper, but each time, I was the one who stopped her from throwing the first punch—never the one to resort to violence.
So why had I gone that far?
Of course, the man had made the first move, bothering the youngest mother. And he had even hit her chin with his elbow.
But it was a mistake. And it wasn't a hard enough hit to warrant such a beating.
Yet, I couldn't contain my anger.
The truth was, the man wasn't the problem—it was the situation where I had to leave my family behind that had made me angry...
I stood up from the bench, reflecting bitterly on my actions.
Regretting it now was too late.
I had beaten him severely enough that being reported for assault wouldn't be surprising.
For reasons unknown, the third mother had let me go for once, but it seemed I'd be dragged to the police station before even a day had passed.
"How stupid, really..."
"...I'm sorry."
As if hearing my mutter, the youngest mother apologized to me for no reason.
Her earnest attitude, seeking forgiveness, made me feel awkward.
Hesitantly, we began walking side by side.
Even if the police caught me later, I planned to get as far away from the funeral home as possible.
That way, the chance of an awkward encounter with the fourth and first mothers at the police station could be minimized.
And I also planned to distance the youngest mother.
From her perspective, with our father dead, this was the perfect timing to sever ties with the pseudo-religious group.
Though she was an orphan, she was originally a capable woman who had entered a prestigious university at the top of her class. If she didn't get entangled with someone like me, she could live happily from now on.
But after what I did to the second mother, telling the youngest mother to leave right after wasn't easy.
And without a proper reason, suddenly losing my temper would only arouse suspicion.
'No choice. Let's walk together for a while. Then, when the chance comes, I'll say I'm going to the bathroom and just not come back.'
The youngest mother might be hurt by my actions, but it's far better than ruining her life by being tied to me, the cult leader's son.
"You were cool."
Without discussing where we were going or why we were walking, we strolled silently along the winter path when the youngest mother leaned her shoulder against my arm and spoke.
"Cool? That?"
I smiled bitterly, recalling the image of myself unleashing excessive violence on the middle-aged man.
It seemed the sexual frustration I couldn't release on the second mother had transformed into violence directed at him.
Thus, I couldn't help but grow even more wary of the unknown power within me.
"Yeah, you were cool. Like a prince... saving a princess."
The words might have sounded childish, but coming from someone who looked as elegant as a real princess, they fit.
Even I, who often received compliments for my looks, was hearing "prince" for the first time, making me smile awkwardly.
I straightened my hunched back.
Perhaps because the other mothers weren't around, the youngest mother, who usually couldn't express affection freely around them, openly showed it now. I gently pushed her arm away from my shoulder.
The youngest mother's already large eyes widened even more.
She looked more startled than when the middle-aged man had suddenly entered the funeral home and caused a scene.
"D-don't like it... me holding your arm... don't like being called 'son'?"
Even if it were someone else, hearing "son" from the youngest mother made me feel awkward, and my expression stiffened slightly.
In front of the believers, it was the formal title, so she had used it.
"It's not that. I don't dislike it... Mom."
I gave an ambiguous answer and quickened my pace.
There was no telling when the man I'd beaten would wake up and report me to the police. Even if that didn't happen, the cars lurking around were making me uneasy.
It might be my imagination—no, it wasn't.
Being the cult leader's son, I was often followed—I was sure of it.
They were following us.
Why? And who?
It didn't seem like the third mother's people. She wouldn't let me go easily and then follow me—and even if she did, I wouldn't have noticed so easily.
Then, the first mother's people? But her underlings would have followed her in a rush, so that didn't seem likely either.
Pretending not to notice the tail, I glanced sideways at the cars.
Sure enough, they were discreetly following us.
"Mom, this way."
"...Huh? Okay."
I led the youngest mother into a secluded alley and looked back at the cars.
The people inside rolled down their windows slightly and pointed their phone cameras at me.
Their faces looked more amused than serious.
At least they didn't seem to be from the cult.
Pushing away the youngest mother, who was trying to link arms again, I quickly deduced the answer.
That middle-aged man.
The way he was talking to his viewers while holding his phone.
His peers had probably gathered after watching his broadcast.
If so, it was dangerous.
Not for me—for the youngest mother.
While my identity as the cult leader's son had been exposed long ago, the youngest mother was different.
Only those who had dug deep into the cult's activities—police insiders and a few PR personnel—knew her face.
Thus, the youngest mother still had a chance.
A chance to live a normal, happy life.
But if the public saw her being close to me, that chance would vanish forever.
"That guy's got the looks."
"Yeah, right. A handsome man ranks higher than a pretty woman."
Despite her shy personality, the youngest mother kept trying to grab my arm in front of people, and I kept pushing her away. Passing aunties whispered loud enough for me to hear.
"The girl's pretty too, but she's clinging to him like that."
"Just jealous. Why don't girls like that come to me?"
"Don't you know? Ever looked in a mirror?"
A group of middle school boys, likely on their way home, giggled, half-envious, half-jealous, and hurried away when I glanced at them.
Meanwhile, the cars surveilling us, perhaps thinking they wouldn't be noticed, were now closing in openly.
As I pondered what to do, I made my choice.
I grabbed the youngest mother's wrist tightly and led her into an alley.
"Run!"
It was a sudden move, without warning, to avoid the people filming us from the car—but the youngest mother didn't resist at all. She wasn't even flustered.
She laughed.
Once we entered the alley and escaped the public eye, I slowed to match her running pace.
Immediately, the youngest mother overtook me.
"Here, here! The people filming us are over there!"
As I tried to pass her and stop, she shouted this time.
Hearing her, I looked around. The alley was narrow, so I couldn't see the people filming, but in the midst of running, I couldn't check their positions.
And if we kept running like this, they might catch us on camera.
"Ahah, ahahah, ahahah!"
We had run quite a bit, unable to stop because the youngest mother kept saying the cars were nearby, when she suddenly burst into laughter.
I laughed abruptly too.
I hadn't expected this at all, and the situation was terrible in many ways, but it was something I had always dreamed of.
The liberation of escaping the cult.
And though I had planned to leave alone for a desolate place, the thought of fleeing the cult and the world with the youngest mother, even temporarily, made me laugh.
When we finally stopped laughing, I saw the people who had been following us in the cars now standing around, looking for us.
Each held a phone or camera, so we couldn't ignore them.
But I couldn't beat them up like I had the middle-aged man.
"Here, this way! Let's hide for a bit."
This time, the youngest mother grabbed my wrist and led me somewhere.
I followed, naturally entering a building.
Outside was bright daylight, but the interior was dark. However, red lights were on, so it wasn't pitch black.
Though I had been out in the world for a while, the only places I'd visited were funeral homes and convenience stores, so I looked around curiously.
I couldn't immediately guess what this place was.
While I was looking, the youngest mother seemed to say something to the owner, paid, and then pulled my wrist.
Her oddly forceful attitude made me hesitate briefly, but seeing the wreckers lurking near the entrance, I followed her.
Having committed assault, I needed to hide for a while.
Getting caught in a bigger commotion here would be troublesome.
We took a cramped elevator—too small for two—and went up.
"Where is this?"
The youngest mother just smiled without answering.
Recalling scenes from dramas I'd watched on the phone smuggled in by the mothers—PC bang? Jjimjil-bang?
Neither seemed to fit...
The youngest mother walked down a hallway lined with doors, as if people lived there, and opened the one at the end.
Ah, was the key she got from the owner for this door?
"Let's stay here for a bit."
A strange feeling crept up on me, but when the youngest mother stood before the wide-open door, the feeling grew too strong to ignore... but standing still in the empty hallway made no sense.
And we had to stay in this building until the wreckers left, so I ignored the unease and stepped inside.
After all, the one who led me here wasn't the cunning first mother, the fanatical second mother, the cold third mother, or the violent fourth mother.
Just an ordinary woman, shy, tender-hearted, naive, and guiltlessly trapped in a cult—Yoon Gaeul.
Or so I thought—until I saw the room's interior.
My half-doubt, creeping suspicion, became certainty.
The space was too small to be a living room.
But what filled that cramped space was an unusually large bed.
At this point, even I, with my lack of worldly knowledge, couldn't help but realize what this place was for.
"Son... actually, Mom hasn't washed properly because she was cooking and doing dishes... so I'll wash first?"
