Chapter 19

“At first I couldn’t believe it.”

Ji-an pressed her lips together and set her jaw before she went on.

“You won’t remember this, Managing Director, but I started out as a data-analysis researcher at the Future Strategy Research Institute, at head office.”

Sa-heon didn’t answer. He only listened. Ji-an took a mouthful of beer and sat thinking for a moment, then let out a long “Hm” and began.

“The day before my brother-in-law passed away, he sent me a text saying he had something important to tell me. He’d never done anything like that before, so my gut told me it might have something to do with the company. And then the very next day he suddenly took his own life. That’s too strange, isn’t it?”

She ran a finger through the beads of water on the can and gave a small sigh.

“At first it was only a guess. And honestly, someone can look cheerful on the outside, and it’s not my place to guess what they’re really going through.”

“That’s true.”

Sa-heon nodded as though he understood. Ji-an bit her lip for a moment, then let out a low sigh.

“But then every bit of my brother-in-law’s research material went under a security lock. Even the most trivial things. People from Hyeongang Tech even came and searched the house from top to bottom. That was when I found his notebook.”

“What did it say?”

“That his conscience was troubling him. It was one short line, but I knew he’d been working on AI targeting lately, so I wondered if that was where the trouble was. I asked the police too, but everything that came back only made it look more like a suicide brought on by mental strain.”

“I see.”

“Yes. In the end it was closed as a suicide… but something was off. So I filed a formal report with the Ethics Office at head office and asked if they couldn’t look into it just once more. Thinking about it now, that was stupid of me.”

She smiled bitterly, and there was regret in it.

“And then my institute paid for it. My whole team went through a security audit, and the big project we were developing was handed to another team. Most of my teammates lost their performance bonuses and were passed over for promotion.”

“Did the pressure come from Hyeongang Tech?”

“That’s only my guess.”

Hm. Sa-heon raised the can to his mouth and sank into thought. Lee Jae-seong was more than capable of it, and Lee Jae-gwon might well have known too.

“So they froze me out completely. I might as well have been a criminal. Even when they shunned me, all I could do was put up with it quietly and tell myself I was paying for my sin.”

“Give me the names. I’ll have them all fired.”

That drew a small laugh from Ji-an.

“So I handed in my resignation… though you won’t remember that.”

She lifted her lowered head and met his eyes.

“You were the one who contacted me first, Managing Director.”

Sa-heon’s hand stopped halfway through lowering the can.

“I did?”

“You said you’d been impressed by my scenario report on entering the Middle East market, and you offered to scout me for the secretariat.”

He frowned faintly and thought about it. He wanted to remember what he’d been thinking back then, but his head was still nothing but black.

“Did you and I already know each other?”

“I worked on a project once with the Strategic Business Division at Hyeongang Aeros. We never spoke personally.”

So I’d had feelings for this woman ever since then? While Sa-heon kept rummaging through the fog of his memory, Ji-an went on.

“Somehow you found out I’d handed in my resignation, and you made me the offer, and that’s how I ended up in the secretariat. Honestly, it didn’t sit right with me to leave the company like that either. I wanted to stay a little longer and make sure my brother-in-law really had taken his own life.”

“So, did you find anything?”

“No. I just… I’m going to accept it now. That it was his own choice.”

Ji-an looked off into the distance and smiled as though she’d given up.

“I know the right thing is to let him go properly, but I keep holding on, the way I clung to the legs of the father who walked out on me and my unnie.”

Sa-heon had no words for a moment, and he sank into thought.

At first it had been nothing more than a light-hearted whim. He’d simply been curious about this woman, and interested in why, with his memory gone, he’d taken her for his lover. He’d heard she was soft-hearted, so he’d only meant to rattle her with some cheap trick, like acting pitiful.

But this heavy, honest story of hers had him turning serious along with her.

Honestly, what made this woman so pure, so earnest about every last thing?

“My story’s a cliché.”

Sa-heon crushed the empty can and set it down on the platform bench.

“My mother was as good as sold into marriage to a man who already had two sons born out of wedlock, so she never gave me any affection.”

He gave a self-mocking laugh and a shrug, and went on without any feeling at all.

“All I’ve got left is twenty-one years of memories, and there’s not much in them worth looking back on. Even if the rest comes back, I figure it’ll be more of the same. Not that it was hard, either. That’s just how I’ve lived. Fighting it out, every single day.”

Ji-an nodded as though she understood. He was telling it so plainly, so evenly, with no idea that this only made it hurt more to hear.

“The moment my mother died, my father brought my hyungs into the house, and, like I said before, they hit me a lot. I was small back then.”

“…I see.”

“Back then a gardener came every morning to look after the garden, and thanks to my hyungs, there was even a time I nearly lost my fingers to the brush cutter.”

Ji-an gave a small, shocked start, and he let out a short, soft laugh.

“All I could think about was grabbing power fast, so I could trample those bastards and climb right over them. That was about it, I think.”

“…”

“The idea of me liking anyone was so strange it felt awkward even to me, and of course it never once crossed my mind to want someone to love me.”

A silence passed.

Far off, insects chirred faintly in the grass, and a gentle breeze tickled their cheeks. It was a still summer night, a night that seemed willing to keep their heavy stories to itself.

Ji-an fidgeted with the beer can, which had gone lukewarm, and couldn’t take her eyes off Sa-heon. He had tilted his head back to look at the sky, but now he turned and met her eyes.

They were eyes like the deep of night.

When she’d worked as his secretary, she had tensed up and frozen every single time their eyes happened to meet. The Sa-heon of back then and the Sa-heon in front of her were plainly the same person, so why did he feel so much like someone else?

She realized she’d been staring at him far too openly without meaning to, so she hurriedly tipped her head back and turned her gaze to the sky.

“You can see so many stars.”

“You can. So pretty.”

He said it with the faint trace of a smile, looking at Ji-an.

“…”

The air had turned awkward, and Ji-an tucked her windblown hair behind her ear.

“I should be going now…”

She was about to say she’d get up when Sa-heon slowly braced one hand on the platform bench, leaned his weight on it and brought his body close. With every inch the gap closed, her heart beat harder.

Her lips had gone dry, and when she wet them with the tip of her tongue without thinking, he caught the small movement and grinned, one corner of his mouth lifting.

“Why are you nervous?”

He’d hit the mark exactly, and she had no answer. Without realizing it, Ji-an held her breath.

At some point everything around them had gone quiet. The insects in the grass and the wind, both audible only a moment ago, seemed to have drawn far away. Only the sound of their breathing filled the night air.

He reached out and cupped her cheek. His hand was big, and hot.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

A prickling current ran along the rim of her ear and away.

His deep eyes, the straight line of his nose, the firm angle of his jaw. Ji-an looked at the confident, faintly shameless smile at the corner of his mouth, and lowered her trembling gaze.

“Hit me if you don’t want it.”

Sa-heon tilted his head. Their lips met, and he sucked softly at her lower lip.

Ah. A small gasp slipped out between Ji-an’s teeth, and he didn’t miss the opening. He pushed his hot tongue inside.

It was a kiss that felt as if it could melt a person. The soft, wet flesh slowly licked the inside of her mouth, and her sweat-damp palms tingled.

“Ah…”

Something was simmering up from somewhere deep in her body, and Ji-an clutched at his T-shirt without meaning to. At that, Sa-heon’s big hand pulled her waist in and held her tight against him.

The beer can Ji-an had been drinking from fell to the ground with a dull thud and the beer ran out, yet their pressed lips showed no sign of parting.

Sa-heon licked at her lips and sucked her tongue, lost to it. On instinct he ground against her, where the blood had rushed to make him painfully hard, and gripped her waist tight.

Her sweet lips startled him once. Her slight frame, trembling faintly with nerves and arousal, startled him once more. And last of all, his own heart hammering as if it would burst startled him too.

Ah, this…

I was more serious about this than I thought.