The beginning must always have an end.

The words of those who do not know the end are always tragic.

This was the conclusion Park Geonwoo personally reached through experience.

Eden was perfect. Even if it was a hologram, it was extraordinarily beautiful.

Compared to the horrible hallucinations he had when he was addicted to drugs, the hallucinations here were always beautiful. They were intoxicating.

That’s why Park Geonwoo was scared.

He was afraid that he might go back to drugs, because once he left here, it was certain he would return to them.

Despite that, he couldn’t resist. Even though he knew the easiest way out was to leave, he didn’t even attempt it. He had been given a chance to be expelled for a week, but he followed the rules better than anyone.

The reason was simple. He had to.

He had to stay until the end, no matter what.

Even without that, Park Geonwoo loved this place. Especially, the friends he met here were truly precious. No one looked at him with colored glasses as if he were some sex-crazed person, so he felt at ease.

Park Geonwoo always had a lot of friends.

They say most people struggle when they immigrate to a foreign country in their mid-teens, but Park Geonwoo was an exception. Although most people were Korean, he was always surrounded by friends.

His poor English skills didn’t embarrass him at all. After all, in ten years, AI would translate everything for him, so why bother learning English, he would shamelessly argue.

It was the same at school. If gestures and body language didn’t work, he would use a translation app to communicate. Teachers would marvel at him, but they didn’t hate him. He was, in «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» fact, popular at school.

A funny Asian. A handsome Korean.

He even got asked if he was an idol.

That was before he got involved with drugs.

It all started with curiosity. He was, in fact, seduced by the notion that marijuana wasn’t even a drug, and Park Geonwoo genuinely believed that.

They say marijuana is healthier than cigarettes.

It’s used as medicine in hospitals.

He even defended himself by saying these things while smoking marijuana. He justified it.

He declared to everyone that he would stop at marijuana and wouldn’t go deeper. He was that confident.

But that damn curiosity never let Park Geonwoo go.

It’s not addictive.

You just get high for a few hours and then it fades. After a few pisses, it’s all out of your system.

Even if you take a blood test, it won’t show up, you know?

Just like with marijuana, he strongly rationalized himself into trying ecstasy.

After that, he couldn’t remember anything. The speed of addiction was uncontrollable.

At some point, he snapped back to reality and found a syringe in his arm.

Even though he had never really experienced anything tough in life, even though he wasn’t economically troubled or had family issues, and even though he had so many friends and didn’t suffer from loneliness, Park Geonwoo became a drug addict.

It was exactly nine years ago. A full nine years ago.

At the age of twenty, Park Geonwoo became addicted to drugs and fought for six long years. The struggle was long.

He fought and lost, fought and lost again. He fought in disgust, but he always lost.

Then, after that incident, he fled back to Korea, and amazingly, he was able to quit completely.

It was almost miraculous. He couldn’t believe that he had quit.

Every day, Park Geonwoo doubted himself, but it was true.

He really had quit.

Is this even possible?

He still couldn’t believe it, but since it was his body, he couldn’t help but accept it.

Park Geonwoo felt like he was born anew.

He couldn’t understand how he had lived in addiction to such a terrible thing, but now he felt amazing, as though his mind had been cleared.

Having an erection, climaxing, and having sex with a clear mind felt so precious.

It was a hundred, a thousand times more stimulating than when he was on drugs.

Was the doenjang stew really that good?

Was the pork belly that savory?

What about alcohol?

How sweet was that beer he drank after a shower? Park Geonwoo was astonished by how good it felt.

He cried for three months because he couldn’t believe it, and then he cried for the next three months because he was so happy. Everything he had done in America, he had completely forgotten. No, it never happened.

Right. It didn’t happen. He dismissed it as a hallucination.

That’s how Park Geonwoo rationalized his life.

It was a new life, so every day felt precious.

He ate, drank, and had sex. He gave love, parted, and met again. And he laughed often.

Park Geonwoo’s life had no serious troubles. It was peaceful and joyful, to the point that he rarely frown or raised his voice.

Then he met him.

It was bad luck. That’s the only way to describe it.

How did he know?

How did he know?

From that moment on, Park Geonwoo’s life was held hostage. He lived enjoying himself as usual, but he could no longer live as freely as before meeting him. He had to remind himself every day of the things he had done.

He was everywhere.

It didn’t seem like he was watching, but he knew everything about Park Geonwoo’s life. He knew who he met, what he ate, and who he had sex with.

After meeting him, Park Geonwoo had nightmares every night, but humans are creatures of adaptation.

The fear of him gradually faded. Since he didn’t appear, and he didn’t seem to harm him, Park Geonwoo started to ignore him.

So what if he knew? What would he do? Does he have evidence?

He became shameless.

As he acted so nonchalant, there came a point when he even doubted if meeting him had been a figment of his imagination.

It wasn’t a big deal.

He sneered.

Until the job offer came.

“Say you came through this person. Then you’ll definitely get hired.”

He didn’t exist.

“This is your punishment.”

Park Geonwoo was confused.

Is this punishment for me?

No way. That can’t be.

He had misunderstood Park Geonwoo. It seemed like he had misunderstood everything.

How could he think that I was obsessed with sex, that I loved men so much that I would join sex parties as a crew? Wasn’t he insane?

The interview was easy. Some had to go through three rounds of interviews, but Park Geonwoo went straight to a health checkup after the first interview. He thought it was a privilege from the name the person had given him, but it was probably because of his appearance.

Park Geonwoo was confident in his looks. If he had set his mind to it, he would have become a singer or an actor by now.

After all, his father’s best friend had been a famous PD in a broadcasting station, his uncle ran an entertainment agency, and his cousin was an executive in a model agency.

Thanks to this, whenever he came to Korea during vacation, he had been a stand-in for photo shoots and appeared in CFs and dramas. Of course, he had received business cards from modeling agencies and idol companies dozens of times.

Unlike Kim Yunho, who had no connections or money, Park Geonwoo had it all.

If he hadn’t become addicted to drugs, and if it hadn’t been for that incident, he could have easily appeared on TV.

Whenever Park Geonwoo was high, he would imitate an archaic tone from a historical drama. He had been in one as a young prince during middle school, and the set had been so fun that he thought about becoming an actor for real.

But why was he talking about this?

Right. Drugs.

He didn’t expect to use drugs here.

No, he had expected he would, but he hadn’t thought he would use them during the retreat, not at a party.

And it wasn’t just any drug. It was a really good drug.

After the Developer Class, Park Geonwoo realized the existence of the drug when he found himself imitating the historical drama tone.

He hadn’t doubted it. He had sensed something in the gym, but wasn’t sure. It was a place full of sexually active men in their twenties. Since direct sexual activity and quasi-sexual activity were forbidden, it made sense to think that their sight, hearing, and touch were stimulated, and that they would ejaculate without touching.

It was the same in the swimming pool, and he thought his masturbation experience in the “Special Room” was the same.

But the Developer Class was different. They definitely used drugs there. It was a strange drug with an antidote, but it was clearly a narcotic. A hallucinogen.

“This is your punishment.”

That’s when he understood his words.

Punishment? He had thought he was being rewarded.

He had mocked the person who introduced him to this project, but now he felt foolish.

Punishment it was.

Park Geonwoo was bound to get addicted to drugs. He might never live a normal life again.

Just like the past six years, he would fight, lose, fight, and lose again, until he grew old.

He would be abandoned by his family.

Park Geonwoo had given up fighting.

It wasn’t something he could control anyway, but there was another reason.

He had something to protect now.

His friends, his younger brother, his comrades.

In just a week, he had found people who were important to him.

It was a strange thing. To think someone could become this precious in just a week was surprising.

Was it because of the drugs? Maybe.

But who cares?

Park Geonwoo was being punished. So, he had to accept it, didn’t he?

He promised he wouldn’t cowardly run away like he did three years ago.

Back then, running away without any guilt had been because of those damn drugs.

It was all because of drugs.

He shouldn’t have done that. Even if he had, he should have gone back and fixed it, but he didn’t. Selfishly, he only thought about himself.

His new life was so good that he didn’t consider others’ lives.

To that Park Geonwoo, he gave him a punishment.

A punishment that felt like a reward.

It wasn’t the worst.

He was even thankful to him.

Thankful for the chance to regret his past mistakes.

The wind carried the deep scent of grass. It was a cold wind that made his nipples stiffen.

Park Geonwoo closed his eyes and stretched his arms wide to face the wind. Goosebumps prickled on his bare skin.

When he opened his eyes again, the hologram had become reality.

He could no longer think logically.

He was completely intoxicated.

By the drugs.