Chapter 16

Her mind made up at last, Seo-ha tilted her head, and her fine, smooth hair slid down past her ear. Jun-hyeok’s head pulled back a little, as if he hadn’t expected her to go quite this far.

A moment later, the burning heat of Seo-ha’s lips pressed flush against Han Jun-hyeok’s cool ones. Even now he was icy cold. Why was she the only one burning like a ball of fire? She pressed a little deeper, then drew back and whispered low.

“I put down the seal. Will that do now?”

Perhaps she had misjudged again. A great sigh slid out from between Han Jun-hyeok’s teeth, and when Seo-ha made to pull away at that, Jun-hyeok caught her slender waist in both arms and drew her in all at once. His cool breath met hers again, and then his lips swallowed hers completely. His hot tongue slipped in through the small gap between them.

There was no haste in Han Jun-hyeok’s kiss, and no hesitation, only an ease, as if he were confirming an answer he had known for a long time. Why should she alone be so clumsy at this? The thought left Seo-ha with a sorrow that chilled her chest.

The faint brush of his breath warmed her cheek, and a wet heat pressed against her lips until they ached. Each time the tip of his tongue grazed a sensitive spot and withdrew, a strange sensation flared like a spark and heated her whole body. So intense that it had turned to pain, the sensation set her heart clenching wildly. The urge to escape it and the fear of sinking deeper tangled together, leaving her on a precarious tightrope.

As her mind went blanker and blanker, Seo-ha instinctively gripped his shirt. Eyes closed or open, only one man filled her senses.

“…Haa.”

Still unused to kissing, Seo-ha twisted her head aside to catch her breath, and Jun-hyeok finally pulled his lips away. His hot breath lingered as though the kiss weren’t over yet, leaving a trace of itself behind. He buried his lips somewhere between her ear and the nape of her neck and whispered low.

“A seal has to go down about this hard to be a proper one.”

Seo-ha’s cheeks flared hot in an instant. Her heart pounded as if it would burst, until her whole chest went numb. The moment she realized his face was close enough to brush the valley between her breasts, her body went rigid.

Ignoring her reaction entirely, Jun-hyeok spat out only what he wanted to say.

“If you’re doing this knowingly, you’re dangerous. If you’re doing it without knowing, you’re hopeless.”

She dropped her gaze as though to flee, but his breath brushed hot against her skin.

Seo-ha’s heart was still racing, but Jun-hyeok straightened up as if he had wiped the kiss clean away. When he deliberately cut off the heat left on her lips, the air in the office cooled at once, and Seo-ha’s mind finally came back to reality.

Jun-hyeok lifted her in his arms and set her down on the sofa. A regret she couldn’t explain rose in her, and Seo-ha blinked, flustered.

“Just read this.”

Jun-hyeok pressed a document into her hand, his tone cold. The man who had kissed her so hotly a moment ago was gone.

“It’s the contract we talked about.”

Seo-ha gave a stiff nod and laid her hand on the document. Fine engraved marks met her fingertips.

It’s in braille?

Surprised by Jun-hyeok’s thoroughness and foresight, Seo-ha skimmed through the contract. Most of it covered things she had already gone over with him. Then, at one passage, her long fingers came to a dead stop.

Seeing her freeze, Jun-hyeok snatched the contract out of her hand and muttered.

“Impressive clause, huh? Then I’ll read it to you myself.”

His voice had gone hoarse, perhaps from that sudden kiss, yet every word came out distinct as he read on.

“Article 3, Clause 2. The contracted party shall faithfully perform her duties as a spouse. Ah, you’re an adult, so I’m sure you know this already, but that includes sharing a bed.”

Jun-hyeok set the contract down on the table, guided Seo-ha’s finger across to it, and said indifferently.

“Read from here yourself. It’s a fairly important part.”

Her chest felt tight and airless. Seo-ha drew air deep into her lungs and moved her lips.

“…No contraception shall be used until pregnancy.”

Honestly, Seo-ha had never once even thought about a baby. Uncharacteristically, Jun-hyeok pressed her on.

“Keep reading.”

Barely swallowing back the lump in her throat, she started reading again.

“The contracted party shall maintain a stable and safe manner of life until the completion of childbirth, and shall commit no act that intentionally endangers her own life or body….”

Seo-ha lifted her eyes toward where Jun-hyeok sat, unable to hide the unsteadiness in them. What on earth was he thinking? Did he truly want an heir, even from a disabled wife who couldn’t see? The question threw her badly, all the more because she had assumed this marriage served the same purpose for him as for her: a hollow arrangement they could dissolve whenever they liked, once each had taken what they needed.

No, never mind. It’s just words on paper anyway.

Seo-ha brushed it off as though a contract like this meant nothing, but the clauses didn’t end there. When she reached one stating that vanishing without her husband’s consent would also carry sanctions, her fingers curled helplessly. Chasing complete freedom, she might end up living under a tighter restraint than ever, and the thought drew a hollow laugh from her.

Trying to catch a flea, I might burn the whole thatched cottage down.

Still, there was one thing even Han Jun-hyeok hadn’t anticipated: Yun Seo-ha was a born liar who could say anything at all if it meant surviving. If she could deceive even herself, there was no reason she couldn’t deceive a stranger like him. Saying ‘yes’ and then acting out ‘no’ was child’s play to her.

“All right…. Where should I sign?”
“Anything you want changed or added?”

Seo-ha shook her head. The contract would hold no claim and no force over her anyway.

“Ah…. There is one favor, actually.”
“Say it.”

Seo-ha hesitated a moment before she spoke. Now that they had gone as far as registering the marriage, she judged it wise to nail down what mattered most to her right now.

“What you said to me, is it still valid?”
“Said what.”
“The part where you said Han Jun-hyeok-ssi’s house is our house now, so where did I think I was going. You pushed at me, accusing me of running away from home.”

At the unexpected words, a small questioning sound slipped from Jun-hyeok’s lips.

“And if it’s still valid, what then.”
“Then I’d like to be together with you, starting today.”

Even this much wasn’t a lie. Of course, the biggest reason was that she didn’t want to go back to the house where Cha Mi-yeon was, but Han Jun-hyeok had no need to know her private thoughts.

At her frank words, Jun-hyeok huffed out a breath. The sound carried a faint irritation, and Seo-ha carefully felt out his mood, wondering whether she had done something wrong again.

“Yun Seo-ha.”

He had never called her by name before. Seo-ha clamped down hard on the strange sound that nearly escaped her.

“Yes.”
“My house isn’t somewhere you can wander in and out of however the hell you feel like.”
“I know.”
“No, it doesn’t look like you know at all.”

Jun-hyeok muttered it, clearly suspicious of her sudden change of attitude. Seo-ha drove in a wedge to hold her point in place.

“From now on my guardian is Han Jun-hyeok-ssi, isn’t it?”
“….”
“And I don’t want to go to the house where my parents are.”

She had known he was no pushover, but his refusal to go along easily still took her by surprise. She couldn’t understand why a man who had once told her to live with him was so lukewarm now that the marriage was registered. Jun-hyeok must have roughly guessed, at least, that a house pushing its adopted daughter into an arranged marriage could hardly be a comfortable place for her. So, having drawn the knife, she had to cut at least a radish with it.¹

“I’m already an adult, perfectly able to look after myself. If I stay at my parents’ house I’ll go on being treated like a child, and I don’t want to live that way. The treatment I get from Han Jun-hyeok-ssi is quite enough, thank you.”
“A brat is a brat, so I call it a brat. What else am I supposed to say.”

Jun-hyeok countered in an unenthusiastic voice. In answer, Seo-ha felt through her cross-body bag for a pen and signed at the bottom edge of the contract on the table.

The moment the nib bit into the paper, she asked herself whether this door led to freedom or to a prison. No answer had come yet, but her hand kept moving.

“I’ve signed. Now neither of us can back out.”

Every bit of it was her own choice. Her decisions had always fished her out of the darkness of her life, and each time they had demanded a heavy price.

Just this once, let the light be greater than the dark.

When she looked back in the last moment of her life, she wanted to find that this one choice, at least, had been the right one. That was all Seo-ha could earnestly pray for.