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Chapter 9
How much time had passed?
When Su-yeon finally opened her eyes, it was well past eleven.
She turned her head.
Yoon-jae was sitting with his head tilted back, eyes closed.
After a brief hesitation, Su-yeon reached out before it grew too late.
“Managing Director.”
The veins stood out on his forearm where his white shirt sleeves were rolled up. She carefully placed her hand on his solid arm and shook him gently.
“Managing Director.”
“Ah… I dozed off without realizing while waiting. You’re awake?”
“It’s so late. Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You looked too peaceful.”
Her gaze dropped to the blanket laid across her lap.
“Thank you. I’m sorry to trouble you like this.”
“Secretary Chae, the only words you know are thank you and I’m sorry. If you feel that guilty, at least give me a cup of tea.”
“…Pardon?”
“I won’t ask for ramen, but tea isn’t too much, is it?”
“I left home in a rush this morning, my place is a mess.”
“I’m not here to inspect your house.”
While she hesitated, Yoon-jae stepped out of the car first.
“Where to?”
“…You weren’t serious, were you?”
“Not serious? I’m suddenly parched—maybe it’s because of that scare earlier.”
“Then… I don’t have much at home. I’ll just run to the convenience store.”
“Water will do.”
Nearly midnight.
With no choice, Su-yeon led him inside.
Yoon-jae followed, his sharp gaze sweeping the building.
The cracked, crumbling walls bore the scars of decades.
“This place must be over forty years old. Occupational hazard—I see a building, I calculate its age.”
Inside, Su-yeon hurriedly folded blankets and gathered clothes.
There was little furniture—just a small desk, a table, and a three-drawer chest that doubled as a wardrobe.
“What’s that?”
“A dreamcatcher. It’s supposed to ward off nightmares.”
“Nightmares? Do you have them often?”
Without answering, she busied herself at the sink.
Yoon-jae toyed with the dreamcatcher, then trailed after her.
“What’s this?”
“…Sorry?”
“Are you secretly a vampire?”
“…Excuse me?”
“All you eat is instant food and powdered supplements? Black bean porridge mix?”
“I… have an old-fashioned palate.”
“There’s nothing here that requires chewing. Maybe I picked the wrong place for dinner tonight.”
From the cupboard, she pulled a green tea bag and steeped it in a glass of ice water.
But Yoon-jae’s attention snagged on the line of pill bottles lined neatly on the table: sedatives, digestive aids, sleeping pills.
“I can’t tell if I hired a secretary or a patient.”
In one stride he was in front of her.
Startled, she nearly spilled the tea as his sudden nearness closed the air between them.
“Managing Director…”
Before she could finish, his broad hand came up to her forehead.
“What are you—”
“Checking your temperature, Secretary Chae.”
The warmth of his palm lingered against her skin. His faint smile deepened the dimples in his cheek.
Then he touched his own forehead, comparing.
Her cheeks burned instantly at the unexpected intimacy.
“Good. No fever.”
He picked up the glass from her hand and drained it in one breath. His throat worked visibly with each swallow.
“If I’d known you’d drink so fast, I’d have floated tea leaves at least. I’ve heard if water goes down wrong, even medicine won’t help.”
Her nervous chatter filled the small room.
Yoon-jae chuckled softly.
“Then I’ll leave before it gets too late. Secretary Chae, take tomorrow off. Don’t come in.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine. I’m sorry again for the trouble—I’m perfectly all right now.”
“Don’t be stubborn. Think of it as a short leave, granted by executive authority.”
“Really, I’m fine.”
“Shall I declare a team-wide vacation just to make you listen?”
With that, he slipped on his shoes.
“Lock the door well. This building’s security looks terrible. I’ve got spare clothes and shoes in my car—want me to bring them?”
He laughed as he stepped outside.
Leaning against the window, Su-yeon watched until his car disappeared down the narrow alley.
Her cheek—where his hand had rested—still burned.
Why then?
When will it stop?
At the sight of flames, fear still crushed her chest, freezing her limbs.
It felt as though Yoon-jae had glimpsed a shameful scar she desperately wanted to hide.
She frowned, lost in thought.
Since the accident, she had never slept easily. Insomnia had plagued her for years. Yet in Yoon-jae’s car, she had fallen into the deepest sleep she could remember.
It was strange. Even in hotels on business trips, she never slept until dawn. But with him—she had.
Her insomnia had followed her since childhood.
Long ago.
One night after a terrible nightmare, Su-yeon ran to the sea. Hugging her knees, she stared blankly at the waves.
Her grandmother Yong-soon had once dived for fresh seafood to feed their inn’s guests. When old age ended her diving days, she still combed the tidepools, harvesting shells and seaweed, never staying away from the ocean.
The sea had raised Su-yeon. It fed her, sheltered her.
Though her mother begged her to move to Seoul, Yong-soon had refused.
Perhaps love of the sea was in their blood—Su-yeon loved it too.
That summer day, the beach was crowded with families and couples on holiday.
Happiness she was never allowed.
Watching children laugh with their parents made her stomach knot.
She kicked down a stranger’s sandcastle. She threw shells into the surf.
Summer break. Vacations. Families.
What were they to her but salt in an open wound?
Her chest overflowed with bitterness.
Then—
A light tap on her shoulder.
Startled, she turned.
Yoon-jae was smiling at her.
Under the blazing sun, his grin was blinding, cruelly beautiful against the ache inside her.
He sat beside her, mirroring her pose, staring at the same sea.
“Why are you taking it out on seashells?”
“When did I?”
“Your face said it all. You looked like a sulky kid.”
“I am a kid. But I’m not sulking.”
From the beginning, Yoon-jae had never pressed her with questions.
He seemed to know: only those who carry wounds can recognize them in others.
“Do you like the sea?”
“…I don’t know.”
“Honestly? I hate it. A lot. Water terrifies me.”
At that, she glanced at him in surprise.
“This is a secret, but… during all my swimming lessons, I’ve never once gone in the water. My father wants me to swim well, but I can’t. The moment I step in, I feel like I’ll drown. Like something will grab my ankles. I can’t open my eyes. My ears feel like they’ll burst. It’s suffocating.”
“…That’s sad.”
“Are you pitying me?”
“I don’t think I’m in a position to pity anyone. But—aren’t secrets supposed to stay untold? Why tell me?”
“Because it’s you.”
“That makes no sense.”
“And why do you keep talking down to me? You’re younger than me.”
“You said if the age gap is small, we’re friends.”
“I said I wouldn’t.”
“Calling me oppa would be worse. I’ll take friend.”
He laughed, and she fiddled with a shell.
Above them, the blue sky deepened slowly into red.
