CGC 28

Chapter 28

Ji-hyeok got off work about an hour later than usual.
Just as he was arriving home, a call came from the Emperor.

He almost didn’t answer, but worried that refusing might earn him even harsher conditions, so he picked up quickly.
Whoever said second-generation chaebols live however they please?
To somehow stay in the good graces of a father who held both wealth and power, he had to live a groveling, undignified life.

“Yes, Father.”

—Are you outside?

At the sly way he asked despite already knowing the answer, Ji-hyeok immediately confessed.

“Work piled up, so I got off a bit late.”

—The deal was that the sitter would stay in the house 24/7 for a month. It didn’t mean you could keep leaving the house like before.

A sigh slipped through Ji-hyeok’s teeth.

—I heard you weren’t home last weekend either. Don’t forget that a promise is a promise.

“…Understood.”

Click—

The call ended.
Irritably, Ji-hyeok shoved his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket.

When he got home, the sitter would stop caring for Doha, exactly as his father had ordered.
That meant that after being wrung out all day at work, he wouldn’t even have time to rest once he got home.

He briefly considered secretly hiring another sitter to cover weekday evenings through dawn, and weekends as well, instead of the one his father had hired—but then he remembered the Emperor’s condition and gave up.

“Calling another helper on your own would be a breach of contract.”

In truth, when he had asked the Emperor to let Madam Shim stay full-time for just one month, he really had intended to take care of Doha diligently.
But trying to juggle company work and childcare was, by any measure, unrealistic.

He even thought about bribing the sitter, but Madam Shim would be back in a few days anyway.
Bribing her and asking her to pretend she didn’t know about another sitter was clearly impossible.
She was closer to his father than to him.

“Hoo…”

As he closed his eyes to cool his head, the driver announced they had arrived.
As if unwilling to accept it, Ji-hyeok looked out the window.

They really were in front of his house.

The thought that he’d have to take care of Doha the moment he went inside already made his body feel heavy.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Doha.
He just wanted to rest a little…

“What the—what is that?”

An incredulous voice slipped out of Ji-hyeok’s mouth.

Someone was crouched in front of the gate, hugging their knees and burying their head between them.

Ji-hyeok got out of the car and approached.
When the person still didn’t move even as he closed the distance, he deliberately stomped his heel hard once he was close enough to reach out and touch them.

The woman jumped in surprise and sprang to her feet.
When their eyes met, Ji-hyeok’s eyebrows shot up.

“…Han Gong—no, Han Yoo-eul?”

“Director?”

Yoo-eul looked as though she’d really been asleep; drowsiness still lingered in her eyes.

“Why on earth are you sleeping here like this?”

He lowered his voice as he asked, then sharply furrowed his brow.
Her lips were split, and there was a wound at the edge of her eyebrow.

Unaware that he had noticed the injuries, Yoo-eul rambled as she explained why she was there.

“Ah… it’s already this late. I’m sorry. I just… I really missed Doha today, so I came, but…”

What had happened to Han Yoo-eul?

Yet Ji-hyeok couldn’t bring himself to ask.
Thinking that she’d come all this way because she missed Doha, then waited endlessly without even realizing how disheveled she looked, it felt rude to pry into what she’d been through.

Letting out a deep sigh only he could hear, Ji-hyeok said,

“Then you should’ve just rung the doorbell and gone inside.”

Yoo-eul lowered her gaze slightly and bit her lip.
Then she carefully opened her mouth again.

“But… we had a promise, didn’t we? That I’d only see him on weekends. And only if we set the time in advance…”

She lifted her head again and smiled.
The forced brightness somehow weighed heavily on Ji-hyeok’s chest.

It felt as if he himself had become a demarcation line separating her and Doha.
He’d made it so she could see him at least once a week—so why did he feel this filthy discomfort?
Was it because he’d failed to keep their promise last week?

Noticing that Ji-hyeok’s expression had darkened further, Yoo-eul took a step back and spoke awkwardly.

“I should go, then, Director. It’s okay if I come this weekend, right? I’ll… contact you?”

She even bowed hurriedly, as if about to flee.

“You’re really just going to leave?”

Ji-hyeok stopped her.

Hesitating, Yoo-eul replied,

“Could I at least see his face before I go?”

Ji-hyeok gave a bitter smile.
Then he jerked his chin toward the inside of the house.

“Come in.”

As if she’d never been gloomy at all, Yoo-eul broke into a bright smile and followed closely behind him.

Crossing the yard toward the front door, Ji-hyeok felt his steps growing lighter.
Just before getting out of the car, both his body and mind had been exhausted, and he’d hesitated to even go inside.

But after seeing Yoo-eul, going home no longer felt burdensome at all.
No—if anything, he wanted to hurry in and let her see Doha.

Doha would surely be happy too.
That brat—he’d probably welcome Han Yoo-eul more than his own father.

Thinking that, Ji-hyeok entered the house, where the new temporary sitter, Madam Kim, greeted him.

“You’re back, Director—oh? And who is this?”

Lacking a better word to explain her, Ji-hyeok blurted out the simplest one.

“My girlfriend. She’ll be leaving soon.”

He felt Yoo-eul flinch beside him, but Ji-hyeok calmly changed the subject.

“Where’s Doha?”

Madam Kim quickly withdrew her gaze from Yoo-eul and stepped toward the living room.

“Doha is sleeping right now.”

“He went to bed early today?”

“Yes. He skipped one nap earlier.”

“He’s not feeling unwell or anything?”

“No, not at all. He played well. He was especially energetic today—so lively that he fell asleep early.”

Entering the living room, Ji-hyeok headed straight for the room where Doha was sleeping.
As he walked, he checked to make sure Yoo-eul was following.

Her face was filled with anticipation.

Seeing her excited expression, Ji-hyeok found himself smiling unconsciously.

Inside the room, Doha was fast asleep, unaware of the world.
Ji-hyeok stepped slightly aside so Yoo-eul could see him better.

She bowed lightly in thanks, then rested her hand gently on the guard rail and peered into the crib.

Yoo-eul’s eyes sparkled as she took Doha in.
It was dark, but Ji-hyeok could still see it.

Come to think of it, Han Yoo-eul had very clear, beautiful eyes.
Strangely, just looking at her made his fatigue fade away.

What on earth was wrong with him?

“He’s like an angel,” Yoo-eul whispered to Ji-hyeok.
“He looks like he’s grown again, too.”

“Yeah. We added another meal of baby food recently. Can you tell?”

“Oh, absolutely. Babies grow so fast—even week by week.”

Unlike Ji-hyeok, Yoo-eul spoke as quietly as possible, careful not to wake Doha.
She exaggerated her mouth movements in case he couldn’t hear well, which was incredibly cute.

She looked just like a kindergarten teacher doing a picture-book reading for children.

Ji-hyeok gestured for them to go back outside.

In the living room, Yoo-eul looked refreshed, like someone who’d finally had a long-held wish fulfilled.
The gloom that had shadowed her face at the front gate was gone, replaced with color.

But the injuries on that pretty face kept bothering Ji-hyeok, and in the end he called out to Madam Kim.

“Ma’am, I’m going to wash up. Please keep an eye on Doha.”

“Yes, go ahead.”

Ji-hyeok led Yoo-eul toward his bedroom.

When they entered and the door closed, a strange silence enveloped them.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Yoo-eul spoke hesitantly,

“If you’re going to shower, should I step out? Or… um, I’ve seen Doha, so I could just go home too.”

Without replying, Ji-hyeok opened the drawer of the bedside table.
He took out a first-aid kit and approached Yoo-eul.

Grabbing her wrist as she panicked, he pulled her toward the bed and made her sit down.