Chapter 6

The car finally stopped somewhere that was, unexpectedly, utterly quiet.

With the noise cut off completely, Seo-ha felt as though her sense of space had been wiped clean. So this was how frightening it was to be unable to see. In an unfamiliar place, she felt like a child lost in a crowd.

“…Where is this?”

A small regret crept over her. In her haste, she had been far too careless. The regret was all the sharper because even if Cha Mi-yeon knew the situation Seo-ha was in, she would never make herself Seo-ha’s shield. Unease churned inside her, right up until she heard Han Jun-hyeok’s next words.

“My place.”
“….”
“Ah, from now on, our place.”

At a loss for anything to say, Seo-ha parted her lips slightly. When he’d said they were going somewhere, she had pictured a light date at most, and now she felt hopelessly green. There really was no underestimating the practiced ease ten extra years could buy. Should she count it a mercy, at least, that this wasn’t a hotel? If he meant to make her his wife, then for the sake of her pride a house was better than a hotel.

He could at least have given me some warning.

She had been the one to propose this to him first, so she had no right to complain, but a small resentment bloomed in her all the same.

What underwear did I even put on today?

Seo-ha soon gave her head a light shake. Every piece of underwear she owned was the same brand, the same color, the most basic cut, so there was nothing to weigh. In short, plain and dull enough to put anyone off. If the sight of her in it still stirred a man’s lust, that would be the remarkable thing.

“Come here. It’s this way.”

Just then Jun-hyeok, who had come up beside her, touched her fingertips. Seo-ha shook his hand off before she knew what she was doing, and the air around them went quietly still.

“What.”

That one curt, irritated word stabbed into her chest. She was unmistakably the one who had shaken him off, yet a chill ran down her spine as though she, not he, had been doused with cold water.

“Changed your mind already?”
“…No, it isn’t that.”
“Then what is it? I’ve got no interest in dragging along someone who doesn’t want to come, so say it quickly.”

Seo-ha hated herself for letting her true feelings show in a gesture she hadn’t meant to make. She had to salvage this, and the thought sent words tumbling out of her. Just as he’d said of himself, Han Jun-hyeok did not seem like a particularly patient man, and that made her more frantic still.

“It’s because it’s my first… that’s my first time, that’s all….”

Flustered as she was, she had the misfortune of letting the thought fly straight out of her mouth, unfiltered.

Jun-hyeok answered in a tone of pure disbelief.

“I’ve let it slide because you’re young, but you’re starting to cross a line. You’re not the only one. This is my first marriage too, you know?”
“No, that’s not what I….”
“What’s with all the ‘no’? Is anything ever a yes with you?”

His barbed words kept coming, one after another, and Seo-ha could only bite down hard on her plump lip. Then she murmured, barely audible.

“I meant that I’ve never slept with a man. That’s what I meant by first.”

Jun-hyeok seemed struck dumb as well, and the silence stretched out for a while. A little later, he let out a deep sigh.

“Why the out-of-nowhere confession about your sexual history?”

When Seo-ha faltered, finding no suitable words, a short, exasperated sigh escaped him.

“Don’t tell me you thought I brought you here to sleep with you?”

So it… hadn’t been that, then.

Her thoughts snarled, and Seo-ha stood rooted to the spot, saying nothing. A few moments later, a rustle from Jun-hyeok’s direction broke the stillness.

“Kid, for the record, people have types.”

Along with that voice steeped in distaste, a jacket heavy with his scent dropped softly over her shoulders.

“And a greenhorn like you is outside mine.”

He guided her arms into the enormous jacket and even took the trouble to do up every last button.

It was a relief to have misread him, but his words had stung her oddly all the same, and Seo-ha asked.

“What are you doing right now…?”

Swaddled in a man’s suit jacket far too big for her, she had to look ridiculous. With no idea what he was thinking, she frowned faintly.

“There’s nothing worth seeing, and I’ve no intention of looking anyway. Just keep yourself wrapped up tight.”

Only now grasping his intent, Seo-ha flushed hot all the way to her earlobes.

“…I misunderstood. I’m sorry.”
“Minding your manners even at a moment like this makes me angrier still.”

His voice came low, as if he were grinding his teeth, and Seo-ha drew her head down into her shoulders. The smallest movement sent Han Jun-hyeok’s scent seeping out all around her, and every motion she made turned stiff and unnatural.

“If you’re going, go back now.”

Determined not to repeat the same mistake, Seo-ha shook her head hard and promptly held out her hand.

But unlike before, Jun-hyeok didn’t take it first.

Unease had just begun to well up in the pit of her stomach when that familiar, indifferent voice came from above.

“If you want to hold it, take it yourself.”

The back of his hand brushed her fingertips to show her where it was. Afraid of losing it, Seo-ha caught hold at once, though her small hand could manage no more than a grip on two or three of his fingers.

“How is every part of you so small?”
“…It isn’t that I’m small, it’s that you… no, that you, Han Jun-hyeok-ssi, are too big.”

She corrected the slip quickly enough, yet her other hand flew up on reflex to shield her forehead.

This time, though, it wasn’t her forehead but her nose.

Jun-hyeok pinched the round tip of her nose tight and let go before he spoke.

“A kid, and brazen with it. Calling me ‘Han’ Jun-hyeok-ssi is every bit as impertinent.”

But she could hardly call him Ahjussi either. He would hate that even more. Resolving instead to give herself as few occasions as possible to call him anything, Seo-ha followed quietly behind him.

The tip of her nose was still smarting.

She had spent the past few days carefully rinsing her eyes behind her adoptive mother’s back, and perhaps that was why she could make out silhouettes fairly well in a bright room. The images still came through blurred, but even somewhere unfamiliar she no longer blundered into things or fell over like a fool.

Seated on the plush sofa Jun-hyeok had led her to, Seo-ha took one look around. Light poured into the room, so much of it that none of the darkness inside her came to mind.

Then a shadow fell across her eyes. She wondered whether a cloud had passed over the sun, but soon realized Jun-hyeok had come to stand in front of her.

“Drink.”

She made out the position of the cup in his hand easily and reached for it, then faltered. He seemed quick enough on the uptake that it paid to be careful.

When she hesitated, Jun-hyeok pressed the cup into her hand.

“What is it?”
“Milk.”
“….”

This man really did seem to think of her as a child, when the gap between them was a mere ten years. But this was no time to air complaints, so Seo-ha swallowed a mouthful.

“The milk is sweet.”
“That’s because it’s lactose-free. Not to your taste?”
“No, it’s just unexpected. You look like someone who’d drink nothing but espresso with a pile of extra shots.”
“I told you. I can’t stand anything that tastes bad, and I hate bitter even more.”

That Han Jun-hyeok was lactose intolerant, and went out of his way to drink lactose-free milk all the same, was something she hadn’t expected.

“By the way, didn’t you say you keep a dog? The house is so quiet.”

The footfalls she could hear right now were unmistakably Dodam’s. A stranger had barged into the house and not a sound had come of it, which seemed odd enough to ask about.

“At the office. Can’t stand being left alone, so I only bring the dog home to sleep.”

Just then, the sofa beside her sank deep. Seo-ha stopped mid-motion as she raised the milk for another sip and warily felt out the space at her side. Han Jun-hyeok was close enough that his breath touched her face, and her breathing halted of its own accord.

“You’re curious about so many things, so why think about dying?”
“….”
“You’re clearly attached to life, so why on earth say you’ll die.”

She could never give him an honest answer to that. Instead, Seo-ha gave the answer only to herself.

Because there are people who won’t let go of me until I’ve died and vanished out of the world. Because erasing ‘Yun Seo-ha’ and living a wholly new life — there’s no other way than this.

When she went on saying nothing, Jun-hyeok kept questioning her.

“If this marriage comes off, what do you get out of it?”

He had said she had a lot of questions, but Han Jun-hyeok had no shortage of his own.

“Think about it. What our parents get out of this, and what I get. Fine, set those aside. But what in the world is your reason for wanting this marriage badly enough to try to die for it?”

Judging by his reaction, there would be no letting this question slide. Releasing a small breath she had been holding, Seo-ha answered slowly.

It was no lie.

“Complete freedom.”
“You…. People tell you you’re out of your mind a lot, don’t they?”

At that, she creased her brow and turned in his direction. He was propped on one arm against the sofa, looking at her. Struck by a wish to see the expression on Han Jun-hyeok’s face, Seo-ha forced her gaze away.

Still, he was a fair judge of people.

He had already worked out that Yun Seo-ha was a lunatic.