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Chapter 08
In the dream that kept repeating, the voices of the thugs tormenting me scattered away, and a clear voice woke me up. As if to remind me that it was all just a dream, my name was called again.
Seo Yeon-woo. Hey, Seo Yeon-woo.
The name, called again and again, finally pierced through Yeon-woo’s hazy mind, and her eyes shot open.
The pillowcase and the cheap knit blanket pulled up to her neck were soaked with sweat, damp and clammy. Looking past the unpleasant sensation, she saw Jeong-ha leaning over her.
“What, what the…?”
“What do you mean, what? I’m watching someone drool and sweat all over my bed while they sleep.”
“I didn’t drool.”
She twisted her body slightly and sat up abruptly. Her head spun. Her vision blurred, and she had to blink several times before reality settled back into place.
The spicy smell of yukgaejang filled her nose. When she turned her head, she saw a meal neatly set out on a tray. It looked a bit fancier than the meals usually sent to the caretaker’s house, but it was obvious who had cooked it.
“Eat.”
“…I don’t want to.”
Of all things, yukgaejang right after such a dream. Her stomach, which had been rumbling all night from hunger, instantly went quiet. Her tongue felt rough, a bitter taste coated her mouth, but she had no desire to touch that food.
“You have to eat to take your medicine.”
“I said I don’t want it. I don’t feel like it.”
“Say that after looking at yourself.”
At that, Yeon-woo clamped her lips shut in stubborn silence.
Her wheezing breath and flushed face showed she was still feverish, burning hot inside. Even so, the smell of yukgaejang made nausea rise in her throat.
Seeing her defiant expression, Jeong-ha let out a deep sigh.
“Go change your clothes first.”
“…What clothes.”
“I’ll get you a T-shirt. You stink of sweat.”
It wasn’t sweat, it was body heat. Jeong-ha scratched the back of his head, not having expected his small kindness—letting the sick girl sleep in his bed—to turn into something so awkwardly intimate.
“Hurry.”
Yeon-woo pouted and gave a reluctant nod. He pulled out the smallest long-sleeve T-shirt from the neatly stacked clothes and handed it to her.
“The bathroom’s right next door. No one’s around to see.”
“…Did the mistress go out?”
“No. She won’t come out.”
How could anyone guarantee she’d stay inside? After a moment’s thought, Yeon-woo decided she could just blame Jeong-ha if they ran into her, and took the T-shirt with feigned reluctance.
When she came back out wearing the black shirt, Jeong-ha had moved to sit at the desk chair. Yeon-woo’s brow twitched slightly when she noticed there was now an extra chair there.
He had said he needed a tutor, but Jeong-ha seemed to already know everything.
“Why do this at all? You already know it.”
“Don’t you need money?”
That single remark cut the question short. Since he was paying, she couldn’t refuse, and they began working through the workbooks on his desk together.
For Yeon-woo, who had hardly ever been able to afford proper workbooks, they were a tempting treasure. The only ones she’d ever owned were second-hand copies bought cheap at the bookstore, long after the editions were out of date.
So it was actually Yeon-woo whose eyes shone brightest during these so-called tutoring sessions. Her eagerness didn’t look like someone sick at all, and Jeong-ha chuckled quietly watching her profile.
“…Here you just integrate.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you doubting your tutor right now?”
“I don’t think you’ve earned that much trust yet.”
They traded glances, then turned away, but the fever had eased, and whether it was that or the familiar scent of Jeong-ha in the room, her guard felt looser.
After some time, the early winter sunset reminded them to stop.
“I’ll bring you a new blanket. There should be something usable in the annex for now.”
“It’s fine.”
“…But it’s soaked, it needs washing…”
“I said it’s fine.”
Jeong-ha carelessly pushed his hair back with one hand, looking tired. His black eyes, dark as night, lowered toward his shoulders. Yeon-woo’s lips parted, but no words came. Still, still…
Because it was a blanket she had sweated through, her gaze lingered. Sensing her worry, his relaxed voice brushed past her nape.
“I know how to work a washing machine, you know.”
It wasn’t like she thought he didn’t. Since he put it like that, there was nothing more to say. When Yeon-woo rose to leave, his voice caught her again.
“Come tomorrow morning too.”
There was no talk of how much he’d pay, or what exactly they’d do—just that promise of tomorrow. She didn’t answer, but both knew they would end up doing the same thing again.
Yeon-woo pulled her knit sweater back over Jeong-ha’s T-shirt and hurried out of the main residence.
Luckily, she didn’t bump into anyone inside. But outside on the porch, in a black lightweight padded jacket, one leg propped on the wooden floor, was Park Jeong-un, dragging on the end of a cigarette. Their eyes met.
His lips stretched into a crooked grin the moment he saw Yeon-woo’s hair sticking out in tufts from being hastily dressed.
“Have some fun in there?”
It wasn’t much of a sentence, but the vulgar meaning inside it was unmistakable. Yeon-woo’s smooth forehead, still flushed from fever, instantly creased.
“What are you talking about. Move, I need to cook.”
She tried to hurry past him into the house, but—snap. A hand snatched her thin arm like a spiderweb tightening around her.
Goosebumps shot up the back of her neck. A shiver of dread told her more violence was about to repeat itself. She bit her lip, shoulders trembling.
“Let go.”
“Mom said that damn brat smacked the young master and then strutted back into the main house.”
“…That’s not true.”
“Not true, my ass.”
Since the young master had dragged Yeon-woo off that morning, Suwon-dae’s hysteria had spilled over onto Jeong-un too.
He had just wanted some money for a round of cards, but all day he’d gotten nothing but nagging about when he’d stop living like this. His day had been ruined—and the cause was standing right in front of him.
And she had the nerve to come out of the main house smiling faintly, like she didn’t even notice. It grated on him.
“Did the pretty boy master feel good? Did he spoil you?”
His smirk curled wider, stretching to his ears. His snake-like eyes slid down toward Yeon-woo’s ear, tracing the rim as if touching her.
“Did he give you money too? Gonna use it to pay off your debt and run off? I told you, people from the main house and people like us live completely different lives.”
“…That’s not true! Let me go, let me go!”
“Ha, you bitch. Guess I’ll have to retrain you. If you keep acting like this, how am I supposed to face my mom and aunt, huh?”
A large palm filled her vision. He grabbed her hair roughly, yanking hard enough to wrench a cry from her throat. Reflexive tears slipped down her lashes and dropped to the wooden floor.
“I-I’m sorry, b-brother.”
“Yeah, you’re sorry—that’s why this is happening. Shouldn’t have done wrong in the first place.”
His grip dragged her so fiercely her feet kicked helplessly at the air. Whimpers and gasps scattered on the cold wind. A few strands of hair broke loose and fluttered to the porch floor.
