The Savior

In the first nights of autumn, the weather cools down. Although the climate of Hannam the Hill region is pleasant in most seasons. As he dangled his legs over the edge of the roof, took another sip of his drink, and gazed at the lights of the city buildings against the cloudy night sky.

He had moved into this 20-story skyscraper to reside a little over two years ago. That is, shortly after the Starry Boys had brought him immense worldwide fame. He thought about his friends in the group again, then smirked and mumbled, "Call them friends if you can."

So, what did it matter? Everything would end tonight. He would throw himself off the building's roof once he finished his drink. After then, nothing else mattered: the opinions of fans and opponents, the acts of people around him, or his personal life.

He took another swallow of liquor, his last. He threw the can onto the roof floor and stood on the edge of the roof, intoxicated and unbalanced. He opened his hands on both sides, like the wings of a bird wishing to fly. He gazed over the city and muttered gently, "Goodbye bitches; I can finally get rid of you all."

He gave a crazy smile, shut his eyes, and was ready to jump off the roof when someone behind him yelled, "Hey boy! What are you doing there?" He opened his eyes, cursed under his breath, and said without turning to the voice, "Can't I be comfortable here either? Don't disturb me!"

The announcer came closer to him and said, "Come down from the edge of the roof, boy, it’s dangerous there." With a dangerous and unbalanced turn, he turned towards the announcer and said angrily, "What are you trying to do?! Why don't you let me relax? What?! Probably you want an autograph and souvenir photo!" And then he hiccupped.

The man fixed his gaze on the drunken young boy who stood on the roof's edge. He was presumably in his mid-twenties, with a thin and trendy physique. He wore nice clothes and dyed his hair blue. The man sighed and replied, "I don't want anything from you, boy; I don't even know you. It's simply my responsibility to notify you that where you're standing is dangerous and you should get down."

The drunken young boy stared at the man clothed in a guard uniform, hiccupped, and said with a grin, "Yes! You must be right!" Then he yelled, "Do you think I'm stupid?! You must be a damn reporter who wants to get rich by prying into my life!"

"As I previously stated, I do not know you at all. I'm just one of the tower's guards who has to deal with rich and inebriated individuals like you," the man explained as he tried to approach him step by step.

The boy said with a frown, "Guard?! How are you a guard when you don't know one of the residents of this tower?! It's me! The famous Phoenix from Starry Boys!" The man paused for a moment and said, "I think I heard your name, but I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with you. I don't listen to new generation songs very often."

He was nearly a meter away from the boy when he said it again. "Now, please come down from there; it's dangerous," the boy hiccupped and said with a pleased smile. "Well, from tonight onwards, my name will remain in your mind forever," he closed his eyes and allowed himself fall over the edge of the roof onto his back.

In a fraction of a second, the guard cursed under his breath, ran forward, leaned over the edge of the roof, and grabbed the boy's hand. The blue-haired young boy opened his eyes in surprise, looked up at the guard man, who was holding his left hand with a red face from the pressure, and said, "What are you doing, fool!? Let me go, or you will fall too!"

But the man, ignoring him, was trying to stabilize his position and pull him up. The drunken boy began to struggle to free his hand; as tears welled up in his eyes, he begged, "Please let me go! Damn it, I don't want to continue this miserable life!"

The man suddenly exclaimed, "Shut up and let me do my job, stupid boy!" The boy, startled by the cry, abruptly stopped striving; he felt as if he had lost all of his vitality. The man, whose arms were burning from the tension, pulled the drunk boy up with all of his strength, and they both fell to the roof floor.

As the man panted from this strenuous activity, he clenched up his face in anguish and began rubbing his right knee. Meanwhile, the drunken boy lay on his stomach on the ground, resting his head on his forearm and crying quietly.

After a few minutes, the guard sighed and carefully stepped over to the boy, asking, "Are you okay?" The drunk boy sat down, his eyes red from crying and his mouth smelling strongly of alcohol. He stared at the man in contempt and exclaimed, "Why don't you stop fucking with me?! I'm not even permitted to die on my own terms?! What?! Did you imagine you'd gain money and glory by saving me?!"

The man wrinkled his nose from the smell of alcohol and replied, "I don't want anything from you, boy; I just did my duty." The drunken boy grinned and said, "Oh, well, well, look what we have here? A dutiful guard! Everyone, you have to encourage him," and started clapping like crazy.

The man controlled himself, got up slowly, and said, "Please tell me which floor and apartment you live in. Then I'll let you do whatever you want," the boy hiccupped and said hesitantly, "18th floor, apartment 183." The man nodded and said with a smile, "Can you stand on your feet?"

The boy frowned and replied, "I'm not going anywhere! You said yourself, you will leave me alone, damn you!" The man kept his smile and said, "Oh, of course, I just want to make sure you can stand on your feet." The boy, angry and a little off balance, stood up, faced the man, and said, "See now?! So go and leave me alone!"

The man nodded in agreement, then suddenly slammed a hard fist into under the boy's ribs. The drunk boy blew out the air from his mouth with a sound and fell unconscious on the man's hand. The guard sighed and said, "I'm sorry, boy; you'll thank me one day." Then he put the boy's hand around his neck and, as he limped a little, walked towards the roof door.

***

The man looked at the number on the door, which showed the number 183. He looked at the handle and cursed under his breath. The doors of new houses were no longer opened with a key, but usually with a smart card or password. He put the unconscious boy on the floor and leaned him against the wall.

He began rummaging the unconscious boy's pockets, grateful that it was after midnight and no one was in the corridor to see the incident. Anyone who witnessed this event could easily misinterpret his actions and believe he was stealing.

After a bit of searching, he pulled out a small wallet, and opening it, he found a driver's license along with some bank cards. He looked at the boy's photo on the card, which was almost different from his real appearance, and muttered, "Bok Bong-Soo. So that's your real name," then looked at his birthday with a sigh. He guessed right—this guy was only 24 years old.

He stood in front of the door and tried to unlock the code with the boy's date of birth. After three unsuccessful attempts, he finally managed to open the lock with a combination of the month and year of birth. He put the license in his pocket, lifted the unconscious boy from the floor, and entered the house.

As soon as he entered the house, he dried it for a few seconds. He had been working as a guard in this tower for nearly two years, but he had never been inside any of its apartments. This residence appeared to be 200 square meters and was relatively elegant. The hall was large, with nice furniture, and the kitchen was in the same condition.

The man came to his senses, sighed, and strolled to one of the sofas. He carefully placed the unconscious boy on the sofa. As a stranger, wandering through the rooms of this house to find the bedroom was not appropriate; therefore, the sofa was the best alternative.

He too sat on one of the sofas, stroked his hurting knee, and gazed at the city lights through the house's wide windows. After a few minutes, he emerged from his thoughts, sighed, and stood up. He checked his watch; he still had an hour left in his shift.

He considered finding the unconscious boy's cell phone and contacting someone to come to him, but instantly regretted it. In the lives of celebrities, the wrong news or narrative can have disastrous consequences. He sighed and stated gently to the unconscious youth, "Although it is none of my business, I will pay you a visit after my shift is done. So, please don't squander my efforts and sleep quietly until then." He then limped out of the house.

***

He gently opened his eyes. He experienced an unusual headache, and his vision was blurry. He attempted to sit down, but the pain in his stomach forced him to lie down again. He stroked his tummy carefully, blinking briefly, and looked around. This was home—his own home. He sat on the sofa, coping with his headache and stomach ache.

He frowned and gazed at one of the sofas. A man was sitting on the sofa, laying his head on the back of the sofa, and taking a nap while pulling a jacket similar to the guards' uniform over him as a blanket. He wanted to say something, but his tongue and throat felt dry.

As he looked at the man, he attempted to recall what had occurred. Who was this man, and what was he doing inside his house? Why was he experiencing a headache and stomach ache? Why did he sleep on the sofa? After a few minutes, everything that had transpired flashed before his eyes.

He was about to commit suicide, but this man had arrived, stopped him, and finally brought him home by knocking him unconscious. But how did he open the door? Was this man really a guard? Or a reporter in disguise? More importantly, why was he still here?

The boy looked out the window of the house. The sky was still dark, but streaks of light were penetrating it. Meanwhile, the man stirred, slowly opened his eyes, and yawned. Then he looked at the blue-haired boy sitting on the sofa. He sat up slowly, raised his eyebrows, and said, "Oh, you're finally awake. How are you?"

The boy frowned and tried to say something, but his voice was dry and hoarse, and he coughed. The man sighed, limped to the kitchen, returned to the sofa with a glass of water, and said, "Come on, drink this. Your throat is dry from the booze." The boy frowned at the man and the glass for a few moments, then, hesitantly, slowly took the glass and drank the water to the end.

The man returned to the couch where he was napping a few minutes ago, grabbed his jacket, and said, "I won't bother you anymore, and I'm sorry for punching you. Goodbye," then walked towards the exit door. The boy quickly cleared his throat and said in a hoarse voice, "Wait."

The man paused, turned his head, and asked, "Do you want anything else?" The boy, still scowling, questioned, "Who are you?" The man sighed, shook his jacket, and replied, "As I previously stated, I am one of the tower's guards."

- What is your name, Mr. Guard?

- Dae-hyun. Cha Dae-Hyun. Now that you know my name, you can sue me for punching you.

As the boy was holding his stomach with his hand, he stood up unsteadily and said, "I don't want to sue you," but his head was confused, and he sat back on the sofa. The man sighed and said, "You better sit or lie down for now; it will take some time for your hangover to go away."

He was about to approach the exit door again when the young boy yelled, "I told you to wait, dammit!" But he swiftly pressed his hands to his temples. Speaking aloud made his head hurt more. The man sighed, leaned against the wall by the entrance, and remarked, "You're rude as a celebrity," then shrugged and added, "Of course, and I’m not in a position to judge. Please speak up; I am exhausted and want to go home."

In his heart, the boy wanted to rise up and punch this man with that expressionless face. He exhaled loudly and asked, "Why didn't you let me commit suicide?" The man raised his brow and replied, "Oh, I know you want to thank me for not letting you be in the cold room with a crushed skull right now. Don't mention it."

The boy wanted to shout, but he stopped himself and said, "If you thought you could get anything out of this, you're wrong." The man sighed, turned to the door, and said, "I thought what you said was worth listening to, but it seems like you're talking nonsense." He opened the door, but as he was leaving, the boy quickly came to him, grabbed his wrist, and said, "Don't play with me! Are you planning to sell my suicide story to the newspapers? Did you capture a video of me last night while I was drunk?"

The man took a deep breath and tried to control himself. He pulled his wrist firmly from the boy's hand and said, "I have no interest in you, nor your fame, nor what you wanted to do last night. I just did my duty as a guard. If last night, instead of you, a blind, bald, beggar, and 80-year-old man were standing on the roof, I would have done the same thing. You are not a child anymore. Fame is a good thing, but the world does not revolve around you. In the end, you are a human being, like other people. The sun rose every day before you were born, and it will rise every day after your death too."

Then, leaving the stunned boy alone, he exited the house and went to the elevator. The elevator took some time to reach the 18th floor, so he rested against the wall. Maybe he was a bit harsh; the boy was still young and inexperienced. He shrugged and told himself, "It's none of my business." He sighed and stepped into the elevator as it opened, but just as he was about to press the button for the lobby floor, something from his jacket, which he was clutching on his forearm, fell on the elevator floor.

He reached down and took something like a card. It was the boy's driver's license. After opening the door, he put it in his pocket and forgot to return it to him. At first, he decided to hand it over to the tower lobbyist, but he finally relented, walked out of the elevator, and headed back to the door of the boy's house.

He stepped in front of the door, took a big breath, and pressed the bell. After a few seconds, he rang the bell again, but there was no response. Perhaps he had gone to the restroom. When he chose to throw the card under the door inside the home, he heard something fall. He wanted to be irresponsible, but he eventually couldn't. He inserted the code, opened the door, and asked, "Mr. Bok?" "Are you OK?"

But there was no response. He peered around the living room, but no one was present. Suddenly, his gaze was drawn to one of the rooms' open doors. As he approached the room, he asked, "Mr. Bok? I'm Tower Guard, Cha, and I've brought you your driver's license," but there was still no response.

With a frown, he approached the room door and glanced inside. But suddenly, his eyes widened with fear. He quickly ran into the room and held the legs of the boy who was hanging himself. He lifted the chair with his foot and placed it under the boy's feet, but he felt that the boy's body was relaxed. A wet spot appeared on the front of the blue-haired boy's pants. Dae-hyun cursed, quickly climbed onto the chair, and pulled the boy's neck out of the bedclothes he was hanging himself with.

He laid the boy's unconscious body on the ground. He tried to feel his pulse on his neck but got nothing. He put his ear to the boy's chest, but he couldn't hear his heartbeat. He raised his head, crossed his hands over the boy's chest, and began resuscitation. After thirty cardiac massages, he raised the boy's head, opened his mouth, and administered artificial breathing. Then he began cardiac massage again.

After the third round of artificial respiration, the boy suddenly coughed and started breathing. Dae-Hyun let out a sigh of relief, plopped down on the floor, and tilted the boy's body slightly to the side so he could breathe more easily. After about a minute, the boy turned to him with teary eyes and asked hoarsely as he rubbed his throat, "Wh...Why?"

The man held out his aching leg and remarked, "I'm not sure what's wrong with you, boy, but suicide is not an option. Don't talk right now; you'll damage your throat." The boy sat down with his hands on his throat, moved away from the man, and leaned against the room's wall before slowly beginning to cry.

The man rubbed his right knee and asked, "Do you want me to contact someone to come to you? Your family or friends." The boy shook his head slowly as a sign of denial. Dae-hyun sighed and apologized, "I'm sorry, I overreacted and talked harshly when I left," then added to comfort him, "It's not like no one cares about your life. I'm sure your family and friends would be very sad if something happened to you. Of course, you are famous, so your fans' hearts will also break."

The boy looked at him with wet eyes but said nothing. The man slowly stood up, offered his hand to the boy, and said, "Get up; you better go change your clothes and take a shower," but the boy only gazed at him with sorrowful eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but the man swiftly responded, "Don't talk now; first go take a shower, then have a hot drink; after that, I will listen to whatever you have to say." He wasn't sure why he said that, but he felt responsible.

Dae-hyun grabbed the boy's armpit, lifted him up, and asked, "Where's the bathroom?" as they left the room. The boy remained unresponsive for a moment, then slowly nodded toward one of the doors. The man carefully guided him to the bathroom. When they entered the dressing room, Dae-hyun remarked, "I'm not interested in seeing your naked body, so please don't hurt yourself in the bathroom. If you don't come out in 10 minutes, I'll come in myself." Then he left him alone and closed the door. He paused behind the door for a few seconds, then limped towards the kitchen, satisfied with the sound of water.