The judge passionately asserts that the meticulously presented evidence by the defense paints a vivid portrait of the accused's innocence, prompting an earnest order for the investigation team to reopen the case. As the judge, invoking the name of the accused Juhyuk, is about to speak, Prosecutor Kim interjects, pleading, 'Your Honour, hold on. I urgently wish to present my final piece, my last witness.' Emotions swell within the courtroom, charged with palpable anticipation and a profound sense of gravity."
"The defense lawyer passionately objected, declaring, 'Objection, Your Honor. Who is this witness?' The judge, with a sense of urgency, replied, 'Objection overload. Permission granted.' The prosecutor expressed gratitude, saying, 'Thank you, Your Honor,' as emotions pulsed through the courtroom, fueled by the intensity of the moment."
"I passionately urge for Namhyuk to testify in court. Juhyuk, witnessing Namhyuk's stance against him, was overwhelmed by a wave of emotion. He spoke to the defense lawyer in a hushed, remorseful tone, confessing, 'I thought Hyung was on our side.' The courtroom hung heavy with emotions, the air charged with the intensity of this revelation unfolding in the present moment."
"The defense lawyer, whispering with intrigue, inquires, 'Do you recognize him?' Juhyuk, responding in a hushed tone, with a touch of sentiment, replies, 'Our friendship has blossomed beautifully over the past four months.' The atmosphere in the courtroom is charged with a mix of curiosity and emotion as this whispered revelation unfolds in the present moment."
"In a tone laden with sarcasm, the prosecutor ruthlessly entangled Namhyuk and Juhyuk's names, sneering, 'Are you two brothers or something? Your names are so alike.' The courtroom absorbed the biting mockery, heightening the tension and emotion in the present moment.
Namhyuk firmly denies, "No, sir, we are not brothers." There's a sense of resolution in his words, a hint of tension in the air.
The prosecutor presses on, inquiring if he has uploaded the video. The atmosphere tightens with anticipation, the weight of the question adding a layer of suspense to the proceedings.
Upon hearing, Juhyuk appears defeated. The emotional tone shifts, conveying a mix of disappointment and vulnerability, as the courtroom absorbs the impact of this revelation.
The prosecutor, with a stern tone, insists, "I am asking for the last time, did you upload that video?" The courtroom holds its breath, a sense of urgency pervading the air.
Namhyuk, with a mix of hesitation and admission, responds, "Yes, your honor, I indeed uploaded that video." The atmosphere shifts, revealing a layer of tension and an unexpected twist in the proceedings.
Juhyuk interjects, his question carrying a tone of confusion and vulnerability, "But why?" The emotional undercurrent becomes palpable, adding a touch of uncertainty to the courtroom dynamics.
The judge intervenes, trying to restore order, declaring, "Order, order." The judge's words resonate with authority, attempting to quell the rising emotions and bring focus back to the legal proceedings.
The prosecutor, with an insistent tone, presses, "What unfolded on that day?" Namhyuk, a touch of nostalgia in his voice, explains, "It was my girlfriend's birthday, and I wanted to find a place that held a bit of eerie charm, given her fascination with horror. My friends and I discovered Hotel Blue Area, and we decided to venture there to explore its mysteries." The courtroom atmosphere softens, a mix of curiosity and sentiment settling in as Namhyuk recounts the unusual birthday celebration.
Upon our arrival, we stumbled upon Sujeong's car, witnessing two figures emerging from it. Intrigued, we pondered, "I don't know why these two are here," sensing a shared passion for horror, much like ours. The atmosphere tinged with curiosity and anticipation as the mysterious encounter unfolded.
I and my other companions contemplated playing a prank on them, and we began recording a video. As we went inside that place, we witnessed everything. I felt a surge of anger; I questioned my choice of friendship with them. The emotions ran high, a mix of frustration and regret, as the reality of the situation unfolded.
Hence, I decided to upload that video. The prosecutor probes, "Were you completely sure those two were in the video?" Namhyuk confesses, "I believed it was them, but none of us had ever seen their faces. So, when I realized this, I deleted my video. However, it got leaked somehow, and that person exploited it, putting it in the news, intensifying the situation by framing them." The emotional undertone is one of regret, frustration, and a sense of unintended consequences as Namhyuk recounts the events.
I believed it was all true, and today, as I watched the video presented by the defense, I find myself overwhelmed with embarrassment. The weight of realization carries a mix of regret and shame, casting a shadow over my past assumptions.
In the wreckage of my soul, my heart shatters beneath the unbearable burden of a grievous mistake—a mistake that cruelly etched scars on the lives of those two brothers. Juhyuk, I plead with the echoes of my remorse, yearning for your forgiveness. Feel the raw ache in my words, for I am the unworthy architect of your pain, and the suffocating weight of guilt engulfs my spirit like an unrelenting storm, tearing through the fragile fabric of my being.
In the shadow of remorse, Juhyuk keeps his head bowed, a silent testament to the weight he carries. The prosecutor's accusation cuts through, alleging a betrayal of your words. Yet, you, with earnest emotion, had shared with me the vivid scene of witnessing both of them.
Namhyuk's words carry a weight of uncertainty as he speaks, "I mentioned to you, maybe, and perhaps you're not familiar with the weight that 'maybe' holds."
Emerging from the suffocating confines of jail, Juhyuk takes hesitant steps out of the courtroom. A compassionate touch graces his shoulder, prompting Juhyuk to startle, his eyes abruptly shutting as he places a trembling hand on his head. In that vulnerable moment, the world blurs, and his senses are overwhelmed with a poignant mix of relief, the lingering tendrils of trauma, uncertainty, and a flicker of something akin to hope.
In a concerned tone, Namhyuk shakes him gently, asking, "Juhyuk, what happened? Are you okay?" Juhyuk lifts Namhyuk's hand from his shoulder, his voice carrying a hint of reassurance, "I'm completely fine," yet his eyes betray a lingering turbulence of emotions, a silent testament to the unseen struggles he bears.
As emotions surge within Juhyuk, Namhyuk's voice quivers, "Juhyuk, please find it in your heart to forgive me. The weight of my remorse is overwhelming." Tears shimmer in Juhyuk's eyes, betraying the depth of the emotional storm raging within him.
He pleads, "What will unfold if I choose to forgive you? Will my brother Sujeong return to embrace me? Can our bygone days be resurrected, or will I be left grappling with haunting memories of our shared pain?" Emotion laces his words, echoing the profound inner turmoil within Juhyuk.
Namhyuk envelops him and whispers, "Oh my poor kid, I am truly sorry." Juhyuk, in the tight embrace, succumbs to tears, each drop echoing the weight of his emotions. Unbeknownst to Juhyuk, Namhyuk's touch carries a sinister undertone, a concealed malevolence beneath the facade of comfort. From behind, Namhyuk crafts a dual expression—reassuring on one side, a sinister smile playing on the other—as he utters, "Everything will be okay."
He urges Juhyuk, "Come, let me accompany you wherever your heart desires." Juhyuk, with a hint of inner turmoil, insists, "No, I'll navigate this path alone." Undeterred, Namhyuk, with a touch of empathy, asserts, "Come, I won't turn a deaf ear to your needs." Emotions tangle in the air, each word echoing the complexity of the moment.
They settle into the car, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken emotions. Namhyuk, attempting to offer comfort, gently suggests, "Would you like something to eat? Let's go to a good place first, and then we can head to meet your brother." The air hangs with a mix of anticipation and lingering emotions, as if the journey ahead holds both solace and uncertainty.
Juhyuk inquires with a hopeful tone, "Did you go to see Hyung? Is he okay now?" A fleeting sparkle of optimism lights up Juhyuk's eyes, only to dim abruptly as Namhyuk somberly responds, "No, I never met him. The hospital only allowed family members." Disappointment casts a shadow over Juhyuk's expression, and the unmet longing lingers in the air, a poignant echo of dashed expectations.
Namhyuk's voice trembled as he expressed, "I tried reaching out to your family, but I couldn't connect with any of them. I remembered your parents' names, so I called the embassy abroad, but it was of no avail. The frustration of unmet connections hangs in the air, a poignant reminder of the emotional chasm that remains."
Juhyuk let out a weary sigh, expressing, "What's the use of talking to them? They might end up tangled in the trivial words of those people, just as you did."
Namhyuk, with a touch of remorse, pleaded, "Friend, please forgive me. I know I messed up, but in that moment, I was consumed by anger. I should have confronted you and your brother."
Juhyuk, with a resigned tone, replied, "Let it go, whatever happened has already taken place."
Juhyuk's voice trembled, "I can't fathom why the events of that day elude my memory. If only my brother could awaken from his coma and recollect everything."
Namhyuk, his tone infused with gravity, earnestly expressed, "Pray that your brother remains oblivious to the past. It won't bode well for both you and him."
A jolt of shock ran through Juhyuk. He uttered, "What?" Namhyuk, wearing a grave expression, shifted his gaze to Juhyuk. In a heartbeat, his demeanor transformed, and he earnestly spoke, "Buddy, I can't bear the thought of him waking up with haunting memories. In fact, I wish for justice to embrace both of you even before he regains consciousness."
Exhausted, Juhyuk lets out a heavy sigh, shutting his eyes on the car seat. Namhyuk steers towards the hospital, insisting, "Go, see your brother." Juhyuk, a mix of vulnerability and hope in his voice, questions, "Aren't you coming with me?"
Namhyuk's voice quivers as he explains, "No, I won't meet him until he regains full consciousness. I want to sincerely apologize, and that can only happen when he's fully aware."
Juhyuk sighs, "Huh, whatever you wish." With a heavy heart, he ventures to the hospital to check on his brother. Sujeong still lingers in a persistent coma, and the lack of improvement paints a poignant picture, evoking a deep well of emotions in the air.
As Juhyuk approached his brother, a heavy silence enveloped them, laden with the weight of unspoken emotions. In his eyes, a sea of sentiments remained concealed. He sat there, on the brink of tears, carrying the burden of words left unsaid. After a poignant moment, he retreated, leaving behind an atmosphere steeped in the unexpressed depths of emotion.
Namhyuk remained seated in solitude within the car. Juhyuk, sliding into the vehicle, expressed with a hint of vulnerability, "I thought you might have left." Namhyuk responded, his tone reassuring, "I had no intention of going anywhere. Let's set aside all this; tell me, what do you feel like eating?" The air between them carried a subtle undercurrent of emotions, a mix of concern and connection.
Juhyuk murmurs, "Nothing, I just want to go home." Namhyuk, with a touch of empathy, urges him, "Come to my place. Once everything falls into place, you can return home." Their exchange carries an unspoken understanding, a comforting thread of emotional support in the midst of uncertainty.
Truly, you've never had the chance to meet my family. I often find solace in my dad's farmhouse, where an absence of animals and birds somehow mirrors the quietude within. Yet, wherever you suggest, it becomes a shared journey, weaving emotions into the choice of our path, connecting our separate worlds.
Juhyuk expresses, "Thank you, but I'd rather go back to my home. I need some time alone." Namhyuk replies with a subdued understanding, "Hmm, just as you wish." The air between them carries a subtle weight of unspoken emotions, acknowledging the need for solitude and personal space.
Namhyuk guides the car to a convenience store. Juhyuk remarks, "I don't need anything." Namhyuk insists, "I need to buy something."
Stepping out of the car, he walks towards the store. Upon his return, his hands bear the weight of numerous items, each one telling a silent story of choices made amidst the aisles, adding a touch of emotion to the tangible goods.
Gently arranging the items in the car, Namhyuk notices Juhyuk dozing off as he settles back in. Turning to Juhyuk, Namhyuk's voice carries a sincere apology, "I am sorry, but every time I see you, it stirs discomfort within me." The emotional weight lingers, a complex mix of unease and a yearning for understanding.
Guiding the car to Juhyuk's home, Namhyuk softly shakes him, "Juhyuk, we're at your place, wake up." Juhyuk, stirred from his sleep, rises again. With genuine concern, Namhyuk inquires, "What happened? Are you alright? Why did you suddenly break into a sweat like that?" The air carries an undercurrent of worry, emotions intertwining in the quiet of the moment.
Drawing a long breath, Juhyuk murmurs, "I'm okay." His gratitude follows, "Thank you." As Juhyuk prepares to leave the car, Namhyuk, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, softly insists, "Wait, take all these things with you." The emotional undercurrent suggests a nuanced understanding and care in their interaction.
Juhyuk's voice carries a mix of surprise and realization, "All of this? Namhyuk, it's yours."
With heartfelt gratitude, Juhyuk gathers the belongings, stepping out of the car. He turns to Namhyuk, his eyes reflecting a question, "Aren't you coming?" Namhyuk, declining with a gentle smile, responds, "I'm a bit busy now; perhaps some other time." The air between them holds a subtle layer of unspoken sentiments, a dance of emotions in their exchange.
Juhyuk affirms, "Alright, we'll catch up later."