Page 40 of Doubts of the Egoist
BA-DUMP!A violent heartbeat shattered his vision.
BA-DUMP!He approached the gap in the wall leading to the surveillance room, throat too dry to swallow.
BA-DUMP!Yugo stepped inside, and his world collapsed around him when his gaze landed on the lone figure seated in the chair. With his face buried in his hand, Kuon didn’t look up. Yugo didn’t need to ask questions to understand what had happened. A dozen pieces of footage from their past stretched across the screens. But Yugo only looked at the central display showing one scene from three different angles. On it, theyounger Kuon, biting his lips bloody, tried to reach a fork tangled in the wolf’s fur while Yugo worked hard, scissoring him with his fingers.
A lump of icy fear solidified in Yugo’s gut as his focus jumped from the rape scene to footage of Kuon fucking Lena Vogel. The black box with Kuon’s name on it stood on the desk, surrounded by a scattering of photographs and papers.
Yugo closed his eyes and leaned back against the doorframe, his initial dejection morphed into anger.Why did you have to ruin everything?Why couldn’t you just be happy?
His fingers trembled, losing their grip on the useless box. It dropped to the floor, but no one noticed it.
There was no point explaining himself, so Yugo took a deep breath and tried his luck. “Kuon, talk to me.”
CHAPTER 13
Kuon didn’t knowhow long he had been sitting in the chair, elbows propped on the desk, listening to fighting, rape, sex, and the desperate ramblings of a lonely soul. At least a dozen video recordings were running simultaneously, blending the sounds into a maddening, endless cacophony accentuated by mocking echoes.
He registered the sounds but didn’t listen to them. Why should he? He knew the song by heart, for it was the anthem of his pain and despair.
His once smooth skin had become covered in scars, making his younger self on the screen resemble his current, scarred self more and more. His bulletproof demeanor had grown lackluster and fractured as he sank into emotional lethargy. In contrast, Yugo’s smile became warmer and kinder, as if encouraging submission. The less Kuon resisted, the more miserable he became, the better Yugo treated him. Yet, every time Yugo finished playing, Kuon ended up locked in a white room like a dog in a kennel. Alone.
Kuon didn’t know what to think. Not long ago, he had been almost certain that Yugo was in love with him. Not anymore. What he saw on the screen was emotional and physical abuse, followed by mental and emotional degradation. Yugo basked in his misery; he kept the mementos of it.
How could this be love?While Yugo did all of the above, Kuon couldn’t bring himself to hurt his abuser, even when presented with the opportunity.
He didn’t have to fast-forward, as all the uneventful moments were cut out—sleeping without dreaming, eating silently, working out, and gazing out the window for hours. Greg’s frequent visits were edited out, too. This made his downfall appear even more rapid and the recordings—clinical.
The more he watched the highlights of their relationship, the more the archive resembled a record of a twisted psychological experiment.
The bright room grew darker as the walls closed in on him. He felt violated, humiliated, stripped of his pride, but also robbed of the last shred of privacy.
He felt no lingering guilt for opening the black box. After seeing what he found on Yugo’s computer, he laughed at the seemingly innocent content. The surveillance photos, his professional portfolio, and a police psychological questionnaire were all expected and therefore harmless. He read his file a few times, searching for remnants of a life that would never return, like an old man looking at his school photos. A surge of nostalgia gripped his heart for the confident, goal-oriented person he once was and would never be again. He wanted to ask why Yugo did this to him. Would Yugo have treated everyone who crossed his path the same way? Kuon doubted it, hence he read on, searching for answers but finding none.
He couldn’t help wondering what all the fuss was about. He thought it would have been easier if Yugo had shown him the box, then he found a photograph of himself with a burned hole where his face should have been, along with a plain DVD showing him and Lena Vogel lost in each other’s embrace on a hotel bed. This evidence made him realize how long he’d been a blind pawn in Yugo’s game and how much the Black Duke had hated him.
The last spark of his self-confidence vanished, leaving him lost in the darkness.
His eyes felt as if filled with broken glass. He could no longer look at the displays. A dull headache crushed his brain, preventing him from thinking clearly, and his body refused to move as if made of solid ice.
He was cold yet lacked any motivation to get dressed. For the same reason, he didn’t lift his head when Yugo entered the room, and something fell with a hollowTHUD. His curiosity about whether the Black Duke looked embarrassed deserted him, or maybe Kuon was too ashamed to meet his eyes. He didn’t know and didn’t care. The quicksand of apathy had already ensnared him.
“Kuon, talk to me,” Yugo’s voice broke, fading into the groans of pain coming from the speakers.
Kuon didn’t answer. He couldn’t be bothered about Yugo’s feelings when he couldn’t handle his own. He wished he had more time to patch up his hemorrhaging emotions because illogical pain clawed and thrashed in his ribcage, urging him to act. He tried to reason with it, repeatedly reminding himself that he hadn’t learned anything new. Anyone familiar with Yugo’s narcissistic nature would expect him to keep trophies of his sexual victories. The footage of Kuon having sex with Lena Vogel only confirmed Gray’s statement that someone had used him to seize that batch of heroin. Yugo had confessed to having hidden cameras and watching him even before they’d met. He could even come up with a plausible explanation for the burned hole in his photo.
Rationally, nothing shocking or unexpected had happened. Yet, his pride refused to compromise, because for a moment he’d allowed himself to believe that he was more thanjust another “cocksleeve” to Yugo. But if that was true, then why did he keep these humiliating recordings?
Kuon felt betrayed and didn’t know how to deal with it. He’d suppressed his memories for too long, never talked about them with anyone, and now the senseless accusations rattled in his throat. He wanted to hurl them at Yugo.
“Kuon…” The bittersweet scent of vanilla tobacco washed over him, as a hand reached for the mouse. “Turn it off.”
“Don’t.” Kuon swatted it away without looking at Yugo.
“Look at me,” Yugo said, his voice vibrating with deep, dark distress.
Kuon remained still. He didn’t want to look at Yugo, especially since his groans echoed off the walls.
“I said eyes on me, or I’ll make you look up.” The threat overpowered the noises.
