Dr. Seo Moon Jo harbors a dark secret, he had this urge to cleanses the world of imperfection and with an artist's hand, he will do anything to get rid of it.
When Yoon Jong Woo shows up at his clinic.
Moon Jo finally finds the perfection he'd been...
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When Jong Woo wasn't around, Moon Jo did his job.
And he painted.
And he killed.
And then he cleaned up.
He'd gotten faster at cleaning, but not less meticulous, just because he knew Jong Woo could walk in unannounced, as was his right.
And when Jong Woo did show up, Moon Jo finally showed him what he had asked to see.
"Is this it?" His muse asked, staring at the black leather-bound journal in his hands, cradling it gently like it was something precious.
"Yes," Moon Jo said, sitting next to him. This felt intimate. "You may look at the first couple pages, but I bookmarked the story I would like you to read."
It was possibly the tamest one.
Jong Woo had said he wasn't particularly interested in horror, he just wanted to read what Moon Jo had written, because it was Moon Jo's work, so he did not want to scare him away.
Especially since these stories revealed the darkest, deepest parts of his psyche.
Jong Woo opened the book and traced the paper almost reverently. The first pages were doodles, mostly. "What's this?"
A skull with a snake for a tongue, twisting into an infinity symbol.
Moon Jo smiled. "The Rod of Asclepius, an ancient symbol of healing... with a little macabre twist. I thought it would be fitting for a club of would-be doctors with an interest in horror."
He smiled fondly, remembering his student years, not too long ago.
He had built his clinic and reputation fast, thanks to the connections he'd made in university.
Moon Jo was ten years Jong Woo's senior, but for someone in his field, he was young for his accomplishments.
"Some people liked it so much they got it tattooed. I'm not sure I would be so committed to a sketch that definitely has room for improvement."
"You're too much of a perfectionist, Doctor," Jong Woo said softly, carefully turning the pages.
When Moon Jo turned to the first one with written paragraphs in his neat cursive, he dutifully skipped to the bookmark.
Moon Jo, for the first time in ages, felt the thrum of anxiety in his chest, clenching his throat.
He felt vulnerable, like his soul was laid bare for Jong Woo to pick apart, and he desperately wished for his muse to not be disgusted by what he would inevitably see.
It was a tame story, containing a single, clean murder with the snap of a neck, no gore, no indulging in the beauty of entrails spilling onto the floor.
But the narrative was more than enough to catch a clear glimpse of the darkness within, Moon Jo knew.
The yearning...
The urge...
The building anticipation...
The relief...
The methodical disposing of the body...
It was practically a written confession.
Moon Jo's palms were sweating, and he wiped them discreetly against his black trousers.
Jong Woo gentle touched the edge of the page, and he looked completely entranced by his story.
When Jong Woo reached the end, flipping the page only to find the first drafts of a different story, he gingerly closed the journal.
Moon Jo's lungs burned, for how long had he been holding his breath?
"...what do you think?" He said, and his voice faltered a bit.
Jong Woo looked thoughtful, contemplative. He couldn't read his face.
Finally, he looked at Moon Jo.
"It was... dark. And sad," he murmured. "Dong Wook is a very troubled man, I could feel it almost dripping from every page. So lonely. Killing to feel alive..."
Moon Jo had never considered that.
His classmates had praised his vivid imagery, the way he described the murders so tastefully, like it was a lovingly honed craft and not brutality.
No one had analysed his protagonists. The representations of himself.
"That's... a first," Moon Jo said, shifting a bit under Jong Woo's scrutiny. "I've gotten 'disturbing', 'wonderfully macabre', 'vividly creepy'...and yes, 'dark'. But no one has ever thought my stories were sad before."
"I do," Jong Woo said. "Have you ever thought about writing a protagonist like this, being stopped?"
Moon Jo smiled. "By whom? A dashing hero?"
"No. By a kindred spirit." Jong Woo shook his head slightly. "Someone who understands the darkness and could pull them away from it."
That... that held a lot of appeal, he had to admit.
His muse never failed to surprise him.
Moon Jo chuckled.
"The idea has a lot of merit, darling. I might do exactly that," he said, with a fond smile.
Moon Jo was so lost in his own thoughts, in the prospect of writing again, having another creative outlet, that he completely missed Jong Woo's sad, knowing look, and the way he tenderly pressed a kiss against the leather cover when Moon Jo wasn't watching.
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