Chapter 31

“Ugh, pathetic.”

She looked at her swollen eyes—so puffy even her glasses couldn’t hide them—and judged herself.

Falling far short of her own standard of beauty, she ripped off her glasses and buried her face in the sink.

Splash, splash!

Only when the icy water made her face ache did she finally lift her head.

“Haa…”

Her shirt was soaked from the rough washing, but she felt a little better.

She dabbed her face with a handkerchief from her bag, put her glasses back on, and fell silent again.

“……”

Truthfully, if she could live inside the funeral hall bathroom, she would have.

She had bawled like a child, snot and tears everywhere. Sobbing like someone robbed of a toy, she eventually calmed down—only to realize there had been a hand gently patting her back the whole time.

She didn’t know how long it lasted, but throughout her crying, Yoon-jae had been soothing her.

“Damn it.”

Now that the storm of emotion had passed, what was left was sheer humiliation.

Had she ever been this embarrassed in her life? The shame was unbearable, and that was why she had bolted into the bathroom.

And for nearly ten minutes straight, she had done nothing but splash her swollen eyes with water.

“What a sight. Seriously.”

To cry like that at her age—she hadn’t even cried that hard at twelve.

She had no excuse. Yoon-jae could tease her about this forever. But beyond the humiliation, something else was troubling her even more.

Thump, thump.

“Why is my heart doing this? Hey, get a grip!”

Even scolding herself didn’t help.

His arms—where he had held her, comforting her.

His expression hadn’t changed, still as stoic as ever, yet somehow, that face had looked warm.

Why did she suddenly feel she could read something else in him? Why did that usually stiff face look… tender?

Ba-dump, ba-dump.

Thud, thud.

“Hey, stop! Don’t get carried away. You’re fired, you hear me, you stupid heart!”

She smacked her left chest hard and shook her head.

It didn’t occur to her that firing her heart would only hurt herself.

“It’s just taste, okay? My taste. Fine, he looks exactly like my type, that’s all.”

That was the only thing she was willing to admit.

She turned on the tap one last time to rinse her hands. That was when she noticed the ring still on her finger. Twisting it around with her right hand, she frowned.

“Why won’t this come off?”

It wasn’t painfully tight, yet oddly, it wouldn’t budge.

Like it had been glued, the ring only made her finger swell redder the more she pulled, fitting even more snugly.

“Damn it.”

She grunted, still tugging at the ring even as she stepped out of the bathroom. Yoon-jae was waiting.

“What are you doing now?”

The “now again” in his voice suggested wariness. Feeling awkward, she lifted her hand and showed him the ring.

“It won’t come off. It went on fine, but why won’t it—ahh!”

Before she could finish, Yoon-jae closed the distance and took her hand.

Her heart jumped wildly at the sudden, unauthorized contact.

Ba-dump, ba-dump.

Why did his detached gaze feel so sensual?

Why did his long lashes, half-lowered lids, seem so alluring?

Why did his fingers brushing over hers, sliding along the ring, feel so… intimate?

She sucked in a breath.

God, you’ve lost your mind!

Clearly, crying a bucket of tears had scrambled her brain. She shook her head hard again.

Noticing her strange behavior, Yoon-jae asked,

“You don’t like it?”

His low voice made her blink. Her chest tightened, and she stammered a denial.

“N-no, it’s not that… I’m just not used to it, that’s all.”

“Then keep it on.”

“…Huh?”

Without waiting for her answer, he shoved the ring—half slipped off—back onto her finger.

Click.

“…Wha—huh?”

“Doesn’t it fit?” he asked.

She scrambled for excuses, eyes darting around.

“It’s just, the reason I cried earlier… maybe I’m going through early menopause or—”

“Don’t cry.”

Her babbling excuse was cut short.

Her heart lurched violently, like someone had clenched it in their fist. She gasped soundlessly.

Yoon-jae’s voice came again.

“Too much trouble to comfort you.”

“…Oh.”

The air rushed out of her like a deflated balloon. Feeling wilted, she slumped.

“Why.”

His slightly tousled hair and gentle tone made her snap irritably, striding past him like someone with a grudge.

“Nothing. Let’s just go home.”

Clack, clack.

Watching her sturdy steps echo on the marble, his lips curved faintly before letting out a low sigh.

“…Haa.”

There was no denying it anymore: change was stirring in Ha Yoon-jae.

* * *

The office was filled with a cold, bleak air, as though the darkness outside had seeped in.

Chief Hong looked at Yoon-jae, who stood facing the window, and spoke his final words.

“It seems you’ll need to prepare yourself.”

Hong had worked with him longer than anyone else. His flat, emotionless tone only made him more trustworthy.

Flick.

Yoon-jae pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

He almost never smoked in the office, but tonight he didn’t care.

“……”

The cigarette burned quickly between his long fingers.

Smoke rose, filling the room with its acrid scent before drifting into the vent. Yet traces still lingered.

He had expected this day, but it had come sooner than he thought.

And he had believed he was still holding on.

Hoo…

The smoke struck the window, then was sucked away.

In thirty minutes, the haze would be gone, but the smell would cling faintly to him.

Holding the half-burned cigarette, he spoke to Hong, who was still waiting.

“Go home.”

“I’ll see you out, sir.”

Yoon-jae waved him off, turning his back completely.

Even through his jacket, the mix of strength and loneliness leaked out. The desk was still piled high with files.

Knowing Yoon-jae would never leave while work remained, Hong bowed silently and left.

Alone again.

Ten years.

Technically more, but roughly that long.

Ten years since he had been tied to Yeongdo and forced to carry the Ha family name. Ten years since he had endured, just to stay within that fortress.

[Yoon-jae, you don’t realize what a powerful bloodline you belong to.]
[They’ll come for you. They have to.]
[You’re that man’s only son.]

What did it matter, being born male? And yet he had clung to that fact for years.

Somehow, his foolish wishes had reached heaven—because they really had come for him.

Though the one he had prayed for most wasn’t even in the right state of mind to understand.

And now even that seemed to be reaching its end.

Rubbing the stiffness at his nape, Yoon-jae checked the clock as he moved to sit.

8 p.m.

Normally, this was peak work time. He wouldn’t leave until past midnight.

Come to think of it, ever since visiting the memorial hall, he had rarely gone home on time. He had barely even seen her face.

Thump.

His brow furrowed at his heart’s sudden pounding.

This was why he kept working late. It was a flimsy trick—avoiding her before he crossed a line he shouldn’t.

But he couldn’t deny it anymore: the moment she came close, it was hard to resist.

[Hold me.]
[You’re my husband.]

Her voice buzzed around his ears like a mosquito, endlessly persistent.

Her big eyes brimming with tears made his chest ache, and his arms had moved before his mind did.

The moment he held her, he realized something had changed.

It was different now—he had accepted that much. And yet he still hadn’t grown used to Joo Ae-jung.

“Another person.”

That was the only way he could describe it.

Her sparkling eyes, her plain face—

[I thought you’d run away.]

Her words echoed back to him.

“……”

It should have been simple. A relationship not expected to last a year.

And yet, because of that reckless wife of his, Yoon-jae stubbed out his cigarette, shut his laptop, grabbed his jacket, and walked out.

He was tired. Especially after the unwelcome news.

Click.

The one who greeted him outside was none other than Chief Hong, who had just finished packing up.

“…Executive Director?”

Yoon-jae, clearly leaving, startled him.

“……”

The man who had seemed ready to work all night was suddenly heading out earlier than Hong himself.

Awkward.

Yoon-jae hesitated briefly but soon regained composure.

“Go home.”

He wouldn’t bother with excuses.

“Ah, yes. Please… have a good night.”

Left behind, Hong blinked and checked the time.

For Yoon-jae, it was still the middle of the day—9 p.m.

“What on earth…”

Scratching his head, Hong muttered quietly,

“Like a different person.”

Sensing that change had come for Yoon-jae as well.