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Episode 5
“Shit, what the hell am I doing right now.”
Currently (Gi Hyeon-jae) straightened up from where he had been slouched in his chair, suit jacket unbuttoned.
He glared at the door in front of him as if Ryu Yeoreum herself were standing just outside the director’s office.
Everything—from suggesting they have lunch together to putting her in his car—had been nothing but impulsive.
Even choosing bibimbap, something he would never normally touch, had been part of it.
He had noticed that Yeoreum avoided making proper eye contact with him, that she was reluctant to share a meal with him. But the more she resisted, the more he wanted to provoke her.
It was childish, like a boy sulking because the girl he liked wouldn’t give him attention.
For the first time, his nerves were consumed not by himself, but by someone else.
He could no longer deny it: it all stemmed from a raw, physical desire.
His attempt to suppress it only twisted it further, turning into a drive to dominate, to conquer, to let it explode.
Pressing his temples hard with his fingers, he tried to erase the pounding migraine.
He was used to chronic headaches, but this piercing, arrow-through-the-brain agony was unbearable.
And with the pain came flickering visions, like broken film reels playing in his head.
Blurry, hazy images—but one thing stood out.
“Your shoelace came undone.”
“Tie it like this and it won’t come loose.”
“I like bibimbap too.”
The voice was unmistakably his own.
Even through the crushing pain, he heard it clearly. And yet the warmth in the tone felt utterly foreign.
Gi Hyeon-jae was not the kind of man to care if someone’s shoelaces came undone, nor the type to agree just to make someone feel comfortable.
For him to have said those words—he must have been insane.
Other people’s memories, sensations, began trickling into him.
Cherry blossoms drifting down a street. White sneakers with long laces. Stainless steel bowls on a cramped table in a tiny diner.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
That voice snapped him out of the dreamlike haze, and when he lifted his head, Yeoreum was there.
The moment he saw her, the pain that had been clawing at his skull eased.
It was as though a thousand switches had suddenly shut off, leaving behind calm.
Everything except for the wild pounding of his heart since the moment they got in the car together.
As he calmed, a cruel urge surfaced.
He wanted to see those irritating eyes fill with tears again, the way they had during lunch.
Had Yeoreum not averted her gaze, he might have kissed her.
If I kiss her, will she cry? If she cries, I might… want more.
The thought made him recoil.
He didn’t leave the dining room—he escaped.
Fled from an emotion so foreign he feared he couldn’t control it.
“Driving me crazy.”
No matter how many times he replayed it, all he got were sighs.
Messy thoughts. Emotions he couldn’t comprehend.
On his desk, a mountain of documents awaited his signature. He skimmed only the urgent ones, stuffed the rest into his bag, and stood.
Stepping into the outer office, the secretaries all rose at once.
His gaze drifted toward Yeoreum’s desk.
She was absorbed in something and only belatedly stood when he appeared.
“Where are you going, sir?”
“To see Dr. Jung.”
“Are you unwell? Should I accompany you?”
“I’m fine. I’ll go alone today.”
He told Myung-jun to leave work on time in his absence, but as he passed Yeoreum’s desk, their eyes met again.
She offered him a small smile, a nod that said “Take care.”
He bit down hard on his lip as he walked past.
Ryu Yeoreum… she drives me insane when she smiles just as much as when she cries.
S Hospital, VIP Lounge
From the flooring to the sofa beneath him, even the teacup on the table—everything in the room screamed wealth.
Several doctors stood in a row like schoolboys awaiting discipline, briefing him on his test results.
All was normal, even improved, they said with obsequious praise before quickly retreating.
Only Dr. Jung, his personal physician, remained.
“The CT and MRI scans are unchanged. Given how often you suffer from stress-induced migraines, it’s not unusual to experience an extreme episode like today. I’ll prescribe a stronger medication for when the pain spikes.”
“…What if, along with the pain, I hear voices or see fragments of scenes over and over?”
Dr. Jung lowered his voice after glancing at the closed door.
“You haven’t gone back to using… substances again, have you?”
Hyeon-jae’s glare was sharp enough to slice. The doctor flinched and immediately backpedaled.
“Forgive me.”
Even though Jung was older, Hyeon-jae’s sheer presence was suffocating. His delicate features masked the fact that he was a walking time bomb—with a brain just as unstable.
“It feels like someone swapped my head with another man’s.”
Dr. Jung leaned forward, listening intently.
“I shouldn’t feel fine, but I do. She asked if I was okay, and like a lie, the pain disappeared. And when she touched me—fuck—I just wanted more.”
He couldn’t even finish the confession without cursing under his breath.
“Doctor, you think this sounds insane, don’t you?”
“It’s certainly… not typical for you.”
Jung recalled their first meeting four years ago.
The accident on the yacht. The illegal drugs. The plunge into the ocean that nearly killed him.
The brain injury that froze his memory at age twenty.
His family’s indifference to recovering the past. Their only concern: medicating the migraines.
And the twisted drugs his father’s company doctor had given him, drugs that disrupted his nervous system even further.
That was why Hyeon-jae had come to Jung, and why he had kept his treatment private ever since.
“Those visions might be fragments of lost memories resurfacing,” Jung explained.
“Memories?”
“Yes. The trauma damaged your memory past twenty. Sometimes, when patients re-experience a similar situation, old memories surface—accompanied by pain, even seizures.”
The mention of bibimbap flashed across his mind. The words: I like bibimbap too.
“If the visions repeat, that may actually be a sign of recovery. Avoiding them won’t help—you’ll need continuous exposure to triggers, even people, that bring them back.”
“Exposure, huh. So I shouldn’t avoid it?”
“Exactly.”
“Follow where my mind leads. Follow where my body leads. That’s what you’re saying?”
He tapped his temple with a mocking grin, emphasizing body.
Jung nodded nervously. “Yes. And if the pain overwhelms you, take the medication.”
The way Hyeon-jae’s gaze narrowed sent a chill down the doctor’s spine. He ended the session quickly.
Later That Evening
The pedestrian light turned green, and people bustled across the crosswalk.
Among them, Yeoreum walked slowly, spotting a bus pulling into the stop.
She needed that bus—but by the time she reached it, the doors had closed and it rolled away.
With a sigh, she rubbed her forehead and tilted her face up to the sky.
The weather was beautiful, perfect for an outing. Maybe she would take Ye-gyeom to a kids’ café this weekend.
As she waited, an engine’s roar drew everyone’s attention.
The sleek silhouette of a car approached—a Bugatti Chiron.
The very same model Hyeon-jae had driven earlier that day.
She adjusted her bag strap, thinking it was just another rich man’s car passing by.
But instead of passing, it stopped right in front of her.
The window slid down. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Yeoreum lifted her head, only to freeze when she met the driver’s eyes.
Startled, she instinctively stepped back.
