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Chapter: 21
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I could feel my heart pounding loudly.
Was it because I had secretly slipped the letter Yang Siheon had crumpled up into my pocket?
Or because of the unfamiliar expression I had just seen on his face?
“…”
Taking a deep breath, I absentmindedly rubbed the Myoan Stone necklace around my neck.
It was a habit that surfaced whenever I felt anxious or emotionally unsettled.
Crossing the restaurant where soft jazz drifted through the air, I walked toward the table where Yang Siheon was waiting.
Swish.
Sensing someone approaching, his eyes turned toward me.
He was sitting at the same table where I had left my handbag before stepping out.
His neatly combed light brown hair and short-sleeved knit sweater immediately caught my attention.
“Are you Ms. Go Yeonhee?”
His smile was refined and gentle.
So much so that it was hard to believe he was the same man who had just thrown a letter into the trash.
Forcing myself to remain calm, I approached him.
“Hello. I didn’t know today’s patient would be you, Mr. Yang Siheon.”
“Ah, I guess Chairman Baek didn’t tell you.”
“I think he wanted to surprise me.”
He chuckled softly before glancing at my handbag on the seat across from him.
“By the way… did you just arrive?”
A chill ran down my spine.
Did he notice that I’d been in the garden?
The thought crossed my mind, but I kept a straight face as I sat down.
“I just went to the restroom.”
“Oh, I see. Have you looked at the menu yet?”
Phew.
Fortunately, he didn’t press the matter and simply handed me the menu.
After taking a sip of ice water, my racing heart finally began to settle.
Once we had chosen our meals and placed our orders, I reminded myself why I was here.
“So, Mr. Siheon, what brings you here for treatment?”
“Insomnia.”
His voice was low and monotone.
But what he said next was anything but ordinary.
“These days, I sleep at most one or two hours a night.”
“One or two hours a day?”
I looked up in shock.
“My goodness, Mr. Yang. At that rate, you’re going to collapse.”
He laughed briefly.
“Haha… I suppose the only reason I’ve held out this long is because I’m a divine beast.”
Realizing just how serious this was, I pulled my chair closer to the table.
“How long has this been going on?”
“A long time. Back when I was a child actor, it wasn’t too bad. But after becoming an adult, I’ve needed sleeping pills constantly.”
Right.
Yang Siheon had started as a child actor, and his father, director Yang Byung-geun, was still one of the industry’s most active and famous directors.
The commercials and videos featuring young Siheon had become huge sensations, helping Director Yang achieve the reputation he enjoys today.
Wait… does that mean Director Yang Byung-geun is a divine beast too?
It was surprising, but that wasn’t the issue right now.
“You’re in your early thirties now, aren’t you? Then this has been going on for more than ten years.”
“Yes. I take zolpidem-based medication. At first, half a tablet was enough, but eventually I had to keep increasing the dosage… and whenever I stopped taking it, the rebound insomnia became even worse.”
“If you’ve been taking zolpidem for that long, you must have experienced quite a few side effects.”
When I asked seriously, Siheon bit his lip slightly, his expression darkening.
“Yes. Some days my memories become hazy, and sometimes I walk around in my sleep. So recently I quit taking it… but after that, I couldn’t sleep at all.”
I took a quiet breath and mentally reviewed the diagnostic criteria for insomnia.
If the symptoms continued for more than three months, it was considered chronic.
In traditional Korean medicine, insomnia could be caused by many different factors.
Weakness of the heart and gallbladder causing anxiety and easy fright.
Deficiency of yin and blood due to chronic fatigue.
Aging.
Pent-up anger.
Digestive disorders.
And many others.
“Can you think of anything that triggered your insomnia? Have you been under a lot of stress?”
He lowered his eyes for a moment before smiling faintly.
“I think I’m fine, but I suppose it isn’t true that I have no stress at all. Honestly, I was just enduring it until Chairman Baek told me I should get treated—for the sake of all divine beasts.”
For the sake of the divine beasts…?
As I puzzled over what he meant, I noticed his eyelids tremble ever so slightly.
I didn’t miss that tiny movement.
“How’s your daily routine? Are you eating properly?”
“My schedule isn’t very regular. Filming hours are all over the place. I skip meals pretty often, too.”
He smiled gently, but that smile looked as fragile as thin glass that could shatter at any moment.
The bluish shadows beneath his eyes only reinforced that impression.
Was this really just insomnia caused by stress and exhaustion?
Slowly, I held out my hand.
“Let me check your pulse.”
The pulse beneath my fingertips felt taut like a drawn bowstring.
And it was somewhat rapid.
It was a wiry, rapid pulse—hyunsak-maek (弦數脈).
Such a pulse usually indicated that overwork had depleted his yin, allowing internal heat to rise, or that stress and emotional tension were obstructing the circulation of qi and blood.
The problem is figuring out exactly what’s causing that stress.
I withdrew my hand and spoke.
“It seems your mind and body haven’t been getting proper rest because of stress.”
“Then how should I be treated?”
Even when people experienced the same amount of stress, their bodies responded differently.
Someone weakened by exhaustion needed blood-nourishing, calming medicine.
Someone whose energy was stagnating needed medicine that released and circulated their qi.
To determine the right prescription, I needed to hear more about what was truly in Siheon’s heart.
After some thought, I held off on giving a definite answer.
“Herbal medicine will be the main treatment, and acupuncture alongside it would be even better. But I’ll need to observe you a little more before deciding which prescription is appropriate.”
“I see. Then let’s eat first.”
Throughout the meal, Siheon remained perfectly polite.
But he also kept a careful emotional distance.
Whenever I asked him something, his answers sounded like they had come straight from a textbook.
He’s hiding what’s really in his heart.
Feeling frustrated, I set down my wine glass.
If we had been in a proper treatment session, my spiritual sight should have allowed me to perceive the flow of his spiritual energy.
But I couldn’t sense anything from him.
Which meant I still hadn’t truly understood him.
Looks like I’ve met quite a formidable opponent today.
I swallowed a silent sigh.
Even though exquisite food was spread before me, my mouth felt dull, and I could barely taste any of it.
After dinner, Yang Siheon stood first.
“I’ll drive you home. It’s late.”
“Ah…”
I was about to refuse when I suddenly paused.
Then it occurred to me that this might be another opportunity.
If we keep talking, maybe I’ll naturally discover the key to his treatment.
In the end, I climbed into the passenger seat of his car.
Aside from the gentle classical music playing, the car remained silent as the city lights drifted past the windows.
“Do you live alone, Ms. Yeonhee?”
His sudden question made me turn toward him.
“No. I live with my distinguished cat. His name’s Alfred.”
“Ah, I see. You have a cat.”
He smiled briefly.
“I had a dog when I was young. Now… I don’t really have the time.”
We continued talking after that, but somehow the conversation never quite connected.
Instead of the flawless smile he always wore in advertisements,
a strange darkness lingered across the side of his face.
Even the piano melody seemed oddly melancholic.
“You’ve been having a hard time at work lately, haven’t you?”
When the car stopped at a red light at an intersection,
I finally spoke carefully.
“A hard time?”
He murmured the words back.
There was something almost mocking in his tone.
“If you treat work as nothing more than work, it’s not difficult. It only becomes difficult when you mix emotions into it… when you start looking for fulfillment.”
For a moment, I was speechless.
He said it so casually, as though he were stating an obvious fact.
Instinctively, I realized that his insomnia wasn’t an ordinary illness.
Screech.
Soon, the car came to a stop in front of Baekmyodang.
Streetlights illuminated the road, and beneath the dark night sky, the leaves rustled softly.
“Mr. Siheon… your inability to sleep might not be caused by your body.”
Before getting out of the car, I gathered my courage and spoke.
“Suppressing your emotions doesn’t make them disappear. Haven’t there been moments at work that genuinely moved your heart? Times when your fans appreciated you, for example? Maybe you should try looking for those moments that make everything feel worthwhile.”
He remained silent for a long time.
His gaze, which had been fixed outside the window, slowly shifted toward me.
“Fulfillment from work…”
He let out a low laugh.
“I don’t need anything like that.”
“They’re all fake.”
That single sentence was as cold as ice.
Fake…?
My chest tightened, and before I realized it, my hand reached into my pocket.
Inside was the letter he had thrown away.
“Then what about this? Are you going to say this is fake too?”
The instant I pulled out the letter, his eyes flashed sharply.
“Where did you—”
In a split second, his hand shot toward me.
I instinctively shrank back, but the letter had already been snatched from my grasp.
Then—
“Ugh!”
Siheon winced with a short cry.
Looking closely, I saw crimson blood seeping from his fingertips.
“Mr. Yang Siheon!”
Startled, I grabbed his hand.
Blood spread in a circular stain across the edge of the letter he was holding.
