Chapter 119
I tried subtly steering the conversation by asking if he was facing any difficulties at work, hoping to draw out talk of the editor-in-chief, but I didn't get a single word out of him. It seemed he had no intention of confiding in Choi Jonghyeon. If even a close senior couldn't help him escape the newbie reporter rut for years, the mental toll must have been immense. He could have given up and followed the editor-in-chief's orders, or at least opened up to Choi Jonghyeon by now. His loyalty to Choi Jonghyeon ran deep. That must have been why Choi Jonghyeon spent years like a wreck after losing him.
"You've been through a lot."
"...Well, yeah, but thinking of my junior, I can't complain."
For someone battling severe depression, forcing out painful stories he didn't want to share hardly seemed the best approach. There was still time, so I figured waiting until Kim Jeongu felt ready was wiser. Hearing it straight from him wouldn't magically solve the editor-in-chief's pressure anyway. The most urgent issue was stopping the Zolpidem overdose.
"Bring all the meds you have first."
Choi Jonghyeon cut straight to it once he'd calmed down a bit. Kim Jeongu blinked wide-eyed in surprise.
"Why...?"
"You pretending not to know? You're popping eight times the normal dose, suffering side effects, and you want me to just watch?"
Kim Jeongu hesitated. He knew his problem was serious, but letting go wasn't easy.
"...Sunbae, I can't sleep at all without Zolpidem."
"I'll give you one before bed. No more."
"Tolerance built up— one pill does jack shit."
As expected, Kim Jeongu showed no sign of cutting back willingly. Choi Jonghyeon sighed.
"If tolerance is the issue, eight pills wouldn't knock you out either, right? Clinical trials show no extra effect past one 10mg pill."
"......"
"I'd rather say ditch it entirely, but it's the weekend—no clinic for alternatives. So one pill max. Now bring it over before I ask nicely again. Otherwise, I'm too anxious I'll lose my mind."
Kim Jeongu finally stood and headed to his room, returning with a large plastic bag. Choi Jonghyeon upended it over the table, spilling out a heap of pill packets.
"Any must-haves besides Zolpidem?"
I'd already checked every packet from the trash before he woke up. Nothing else needed special dosing aside from the Zolpidem. Kim Jeongu pointed out a few, and Choi Jonghyeon nodded, scooping them back in.
"I'll hand these out before bed. Nothing else hidden, right?"
Pausing on his way somewhere with the bag, Choi Jonghyeon asked. Kim Jeongu shook his head.
"Really?"
"...Yes."
I felt relief seeing the word floating above his head, but Choi Jonghyeon wasn't convinced.
"Empty your pockets."
Only after frisking Kim Jeongu's pockets did he relax. If he stashed some and snuck them later, confiscating was pointless.
"Monday, we're going to the hospital together. Tell the doc about the Zolpidem addiction. Get new scrips."
"...Okay."
I didn't think Kim Jeongu hadn't tried before. Psychiatric meds require trial and error to find what fits. Like Jeong Yeongjun, who stuck with therapy early on but still couldn't control his depression—Kim Jeongu likely faced the same. Overcoming Zolpidem addiction meant cold turkey for a while, and he'd probably failed that stretch.
"...Sorry."
"Why you, sunbae? It's my problem."
"I was too oblivious."
"No, really not."
Kim Jeongu waved it off, but Choi Jonghyeon wouldn't shake the guilt. Only good outcomes would lighten that load. With Kim Jeongu's promise for treatment secured, Choi Jonghyeon dropped the topic. Kim Jeongu, relieved the pressure eased, brightened as they shifted to lighter chat.
Time flew to night. As promised, Choi Jonghyeon gave Kim Jeongu one Zolpidem and his other meds. Kim Jeongu swallowed the pill anxiously and headed to the bedroom with Choi Jonghyeon. Choi Jonghyeon texted me: he slept like the dead, so watch Kim Jeongu closely. I replied okay and lay on the sofa under a blanket. Hoping no side effects hit tonight.
"......"
I must've dozed off briefly. A loud noise jolted me awake. Exhausted from last night's near-sleepless vigil, nodding off was inevitable, but anxiety surged as I bolted upright. Had Kim Jeongu slipped out?
"Oh, Lawyer?"
Kim Jeongu emerged, carefully closing the bedroom door. Our eyes met.
"Mr. Kim Jeongu."
Bright light burst from the phone in his hand—the ringtone.
"Phone call. Did I wake you?"
"No. Take it."
"Uh... gotta step out for this. Private stuff. Be right back from downstairs."
"Mind if I ask who's calling?"
"...My brother."
"Don't go far. Take it out front—worried about side effects."
"Got it. Thanks for caring."
He smiled awkwardly. I nodded. He slipped on shoes, answered, and stepped out. I headed straight to the balcony. Peering down, I spotted him soon after. Couldn't hear his voice, but pacing the alley with phone to ear meant the call dragged on. Snores still echoed from the bedroom—Choi Jonghyeon out cold.
"......"
I tracked him visually, ready to dash if anything seemed off. The call stretched longer than expected—over 40 minutes by my glance. Serious trouble?
-So what the fuck do you want me to do about it!
Leaning on the railing, smoking while waiting, Kim Jeongu's sudden bellow shattered the neighborhood silence. I flinched, dropping my cigarette.
-So, like Mom says, should we hold hands and die together? Huh? Die? That fix it, you fucker?
His yells escalated. Lights flicked on in the dark villa opposite—a neighbor peeked out.
-Cut the bullshit! She's your mom—and his daughter! Dad's dead! Who the hell pays for a hit on their own mom, you fucker? What'd Mom say! What the hell is she! What the fuck does she matter!
Kim Jeongu screamed in a vicious tone I'd never heard.
-Shut the hell up and sleep, asshole!
The neighbor yelled back.
-Don't burden the kids—just die already!
Kim Jeongu hung up with that.
-Hic... sob.
He slumped against the wall, sobbing. I halted my descent. Call over—could watch more. Showing myself might embarrass him. The protesting neighbor shut the window and killed the light once he hung up. Fine now.
"......"
Head buried in knees, stifling sobs. I sighed watching. Night terrifies depressives. Hormones play a part, but night's eerie hush deepens melancholy. Worst, everyone sleeps when you crave to unburden—isolation amplified. Day or night, bearing it alone worsens it. Activity drops at night, depression swells. That was Kim Jeongu.
I watched another 20 minutes or so.
"......"
He stood, heading back—toward the villa entrance. I returned to the sofa, planning to feign sleep. No need for him to know I'd eavesdropped.
What the?
Time enough for him to climb from first floor to our door passed—no sound at the entrance. Paranoia? Clock said over five minutes. Four floors shouldn't take that long. Collapsed midway crying?
Bad vibe.
I jumped up, checked below. No Kim Jeongu.
"No way..."
I burst out the door, gripping the railing, shouting down.
"Mr. Kim Jeongu!"
No reply. Dread hit. I eyed the stairs up.
No, can't be.
Doubting yet climbing anyway. Fifth floor residential—no sign. Up one more: rooftop. Old furniture stacked high like a shed. Rusted iron door at the far right. I yanked it open.
Screeeeech!
The heavy door groaned open.
"Mr. Kim Jeongu!"
There—Kim Jeongu, precariously balanced on the rooftop railing, back to me.