🔊 TTS Settings
Episode 16
In the upscale residential district where Hyunjae lived, hailing a taxi wasn’t easy. Yeoreum had to walk quite a distance down to the bustling main street.
She stopped, opening her app to call for a taxi—when suddenly a 24-hour diner caught her eye. Among the menu boards crammed at the entrance, a photo of beef porridge stood out.
It made her think of Hyunjae, who had barely eaten at the restaurant and only drank wine.
She bit her lips, torn.
There was no reason she had to go out of her way. Myeongjun was there. Hyunjae was no child—he could take care of himself after drinking.
And yet, if he had drunk that much, wouldn’t his stomach be empty tomorrow? He wasn’t the kind of man to bother with hangover food.
“He’s bought me lunch and given me rides home. Maybe… a bowl of porridge isn’t too much to return the favor?”
Conflicted thoughts tangled inside her until her phone buzzed—the taxi had been dispatched.
“Haah…”
Yeoreum sighed deeply. The blinking taxi icon moved closer on her screen. But before she realized it, her finger pressed the Cancel Ride button.
Even after Myeongjun left, Hyunjae remained seated on the sofa. Slowly, he blinked as he uncorked another bottle of wine. The cork popped and rolled under the table. Empty bottles were already scattered at his feet.
He poured more wine, staring into the rippling liquid. The aroma of alcohol and berries clung thick in the air.
He tilted the glass back, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every swallow. His gaze drifted to the ceiling, eyes glazed.
No matter how much he drank, his thirst wouldn’t ease. His throat burned like molten lava.
“This isn’t the taste I’m looking for.”
Most people would have collapsed by now. Hyunjae hadn’t. He almost wished he had. If he had truly been drunk, then leaning on Yeoreum… clinging to her… it wouldn’t have been an act.
“What am I supposed to do with you?”
It disgusted him, realizing he was no different from the father he loathed. In the end, both sought to conquer women.
He had thought Yeoreum would be easy. But the closer she seemed, the more she slipped away, and the more desperate he became.
She was driving him mad—past physical desire into irrational obsession.
Every time he saw her, he lost more of his composure.
A sharp throb built in his temple. The beginnings of a headache. Headaches that never left him, except when Yeoreum was near.
And then the hallucinations began again.
Gunfire. Explosions.
“Team leader! It’s dangerous, you have to move now!”
“No!!!”
He drowned in the sounds, choking on a name he could never quite remember. The most important thing had slipped from him, leaving only noise.
He bolted upright, gasping, sweat soaking his back. His pulse hammered in his ears.
Ding-dong—ding-dong—
The doorbell. Or was it just another hallucination?
No, again—ding-dong—ding-dong—
He dragged himself to the front door, each step heavy. And when he opened it, there she was.
Yeoreum.
His chest seized. Was this reality? Or another cruel illusion?
“Director?”
Her eyes widened slightly at his expression. His gaze caught on the paper bag dangling from her hand.
“On my way home I saw a place selling porridge,” she said softly, handing it to him.
“You didn’t eat all day… I thought maybe you could have it tomorrow for your hangover.”
She fidgeted, embarrassed, before lifting another item from the bag.
“And this is… hangover medicine, and strawberry milk. You gave me some last time, so I thought… maybe you’d…”
Each word struck his chest like a blow.
“So you thought of me. You came back.”
His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. She stumbled straight into his arms. The door closed behind them, the entryway light flicking on.
Yeoreum’s eyes grew round like a startled rabbit. Hyunjae’s face was a mess—his eyes bloodshot, wet as though tears had been ready to fall.
“Are you sick? You look unwell, just like before…”
Her gentle hand touched his cheek, and suddenly—the headache vanished.
Her touch was the cure. The only cure.
Before she could finish her sentence, Hyunjae’s mouth closed over hers.
His thumb gripped her chin as he tilted his head. Her startled tongue trembled, but he coaxed it, lured it into surrender.
The taste—terrifying in its sweetness. One kiss, and he wanted more. He devoured her lips, sucked at her until even their breaths mingled, until the world dissolved into nothing but her.
“I could kiss her for hours.”
His hand slipped beneath her shirt, grazing hot, soft skin. Her fingers curled helplessly, her body melting like jelly.
It was only their second kiss, but it felt practiced, inevitable.
And yet, to Yeoreum—it felt wrong. Like kissing Soo-ha, like betraying herself.
“No… this isn’t right!”
She shoved him away, trembling. His feverish eyes locked on her, ready to consume her again—until—
Slap!
Her palm cracked across his cheek. Both froze. The hallway light blinked out, leaving them in heavy silence, breaths ragged.
Her lips stung, swollen and red, tinged with blood. Hyunjae’s gaze was still fixed on them. But slowly, his composure returned.
And Yeoreum fled.
For the second time, she ran from his kiss.
Only then did Hyunjae notice the spilled strawberry milk at his feet, seeping into the floor. The packet had burst, the hangover pills scattered nearby.
“I’m no better than a bastard.”
He muttered it to himself, staring down at the mess she left behind, his own desire still raging unanswered.
