Apollo’s Heart - Chapter 52

Chapter 52 – Why Did You Disappear? (1)

Early the next morning, Tae-jun was jolted awake by painful cries. He opened his eyes and turned on the bedside lamp only to find Yuri huddled on the bed, shaking in a cold sweat.

Tae-jun laid a hand on her forehead and immediately retracted it. Her entire body was burning up. Wasting no time, he called Jin-ho, who was quick to respond despite the early hours.

“I need you to come to the hotel right now.”

– “Now? What happened? Are you hurt?” A puzzled voice queried.

“Not me, but someone else. She has a high fever.”

Ending the call, Tae-jun went to the bathroom and fetched a damp, warm towel. He carefully wiped Yuri’s frail body covered with the marks he had left. She looked as if she would crumble to pieces at any moment like a dry flower.

Tae-jun was slowly moving his hand when his gaze stopped between Yuri’s legs. Watching the c*m slowly flowing out of her swollen nether regions, he felt himself going hard. He had intentionally left his marks on her and dressed her in his shirt. He was marking his territory… it brought him satisfaction.

Shortly after, Jin-ho arrived. He gaped at the room filled with traces of what had happened and the Yuri lying unconscious on the bed.

“It wasn’t forced, right?”

Jin-ho looked as if he was going to call Jin-wook right there as he took out his cell phone. If it was a criminal case, it was for his brother, not him.

Tae-jun simply ignored the implications.

“What’s the problem?”

The question galled Jin-ho. He didn’t know if Tae-jun was blind or deranged. He was screaming in his mind: Look at her! The parts that are visible are wreathed with palm prints and crimson bruises. 

However, Jin-ho managed to swallow his words and put his cell phone back where it came from. He carefully checked her temperature and blood pressure, injected an antipyretic, and an IV drip.

“She seems to be weak from fatigue, and I can only give her fever reducers because she has a high fever. We have to wait until she wakes up. She doesn’t have any chronic diseases, right?”

“These were in her bag. She seems to be taking them.”

Tae-jun showed Jin-ho the pills he took one by one from Yuri’s bag. Jin-ho adjusted his glasses with a frown as he examined each one.

“These are psychotropic drugs, antidepressants, and sedatives. And these are-“

Jin-ho also carefully went over the white pills. “I have seen these for the first time. There’s no name, and what’s more, she’s taking them all?” His shock was evident in his eyes. He turned to look at the unconscious figure, and then again at the medicines in his hand and shook his head.

“Analyze the components. Don’t take them to Seoin Pharmaceutics but to another lab.”

“A different lab?” He wasn’t sure what the man, who owned a state-of-the-art lab, intended.

“Somewhere not under the chairman’s influence.”

Now that the purpose was clear, the doctor bobbed his head in understanding.

“I know a place personally. It will take some time, though.”

Tae-jun nodded. He was determined to get the bottom of those pills and away from the prying eyes of his grandfather.

While Jin-ho was packing his medical bag, Tae-jun gently held a cold towel on Yuri’s forehead. Looking at the scene, the doctor was stunned, mouth agape.

Recovering his senses before he was even discovered, he said, “I’ve injected some antipyretics into her, but she needs to be checked upon because her temperature is too high. I’ll send a nurse along.”

“No need, I’ll do it. Leave the fever reducers and the IV drip.” A cold voice instructed.

“You’re going to do this by yourself?” Jin-ho asked in surprise.

Tae-jun had received a well-rounded education since his childhood which even included simple treatments. But to think this frosty devil would nurse someone…? 

Jin-ho shrugged and put the fever reducers, and the IV drips out.

Tae-jun headed to the bar in the living room as Jin-ho cleaned up again. He filled a glass with his favorite whiskey and asked Jin-ho if he wanted one. Jin-ho shook his head.

“I have a special case early in the morning,” he said, declining the offer.

“I need to ask you one thing. Can memories of only a certain period disappear? It’s a memory loss that does not affect daily life or one’s personal information, but pertains to a certain period and a certain person.”

This particular thing had been hounding Tae-jun ever since he’d found out about it. A person with a memory loss was not uncommon. An accident, age… many had suffered from this. However, this whole “selective amnesia” was a novel concept to him… and preposterous at that. If one had to forget, one would forget everything, why just a specific thing?

Jin-ho tilted his head at the sudden question. Since his arrival, this man had been tossing him surprises. The room, the girl, and now this question.

Sighing inwardly, he said, “I’m not a psychiatrist, but to the best of my knowledge, it is plausible. A person can lose memories of some months or years, or perhaps a certain person or a case. There are many examples, and films and TV shows have used this quite often.”

Tae-jun’s brows furrowed. “What’s the cause?”

“There are many. It might be a physical accident or the aftereffects of an operation. There could also be psychological issues, and I can’t say anything for certain because the human brain is delicate and complicated.”

“Are those symptoms permanent, or can they be cured?”

“It depends. Transient global amnesia is different in cause, symptom, and period case by case. Fortunately, memory loss of a certain period can be cured through the passage of time or when an opportunity pops up. Of course, there is a chance the loss is permanent.”

“Opportunity?” Tae-jun’s sharp eyes hooked onto the doctor.

“Places, people, and actions that are relevant to the lost memory. Why do you ask?” The doctor didn’t want to let go of the rare chance to ask a question of his own.

However…

Tae-jun emptied the glass and went back to the bedroom instead of replying, throwing back a “You did well. Go now.” as he did.

With an impassive face, Jin-ho watched Tae-jun walking away from him. Something was happening. Perhaps it had already happened, like how a butterfly’s wings fluttered in the air heralding torrential rains.