UFL 21🦅

Chapter 21

Perhaps because of what had happened the night before, Suyeon couldn’t easily bring herself to get up even after opening her eyes. She lingered in bed for two more hours than usual before finally forcing herself upright.

After showering, she sat with the phone Yoonjae had given her, absentmindedly running her fingers across its surface. She had tossed and turned all night, her head filled with thoughts of him.

Should she ask if he was really okay? Even if it had only been a scrape, it could leave a scar.

Just then, the phone chimed with a message.

―Did you sleep well? You didn’t look too well yesterday. Make sure you rest over the weekend.

Yoonjae, as though his own injury were nothing, was asking about her instead. Even in a simple text, Suyeon thought she could hear his voice, feel the warmth of his gaze on her.

―As for last night’s trash, I’ll take care of it, so you don’t have to worry.

Suyeon quickly replied with thanks, adding a reminder that he should apply some ointment just in case, then rose to her feet.

Outside, the torrential rain that had poured down as if through a hole in the sky had cleared away. The blinding sun now shone hotly, leaving behind only a heavy, damp air. Though autumn was said to be near, the weather was still sweltering.

Suyeon hurried onto a bus, bound for a shop that dealt in branded goods. No matter how many times she thought about it, she couldn’t bring herself to keep the lavish clothes Yoonjae had given her.

Inside the store, she handed the manager the items, and before long, a hefty sum was deposited into her account.

The figure exceeded her annual salary. Suyeon let out a short gasp.

How could anyone spend such an amount without a thought?

As a child, Yoonjae had been called young master—and indeed, he lived in a world entirely different from hers.

Her next stop was an orphanage in Seoul. She had often come here as a child with her parents. The building, designed and built by her father himself, still stood sturdy after all these years.

Suyeon remembered faintly: her small hand in her mother’s, walking across the orphanage lawn.

Stepping inside, she was greeted by a woman in her seventies.

“How can I help you?”

Suyeon hesitated, at a loss for words. The director, however, approached with a gentle smile.

“Are you here as a volunteer?”

“Um… do you happen to remember a Mr. Chae Yoonsik?”

“Of course. How could I forget?”

At the mere sound of his name, the director’s eyes lit with recognition.

“Architect Chae Yoonsik built this very orphanage. How could someone like him ever be forgotten? And… wait, are you his daughter?”

“Yes.”

The director clasped Suyeon’s hands with delight.

“My goodness, after all these years. My memory isn’t what it used to be, but your father’s face is still vivid, and I could tell right away—you must be his daughter. Please, come in.”

Inside the director’s office, one wall bore an old photograph: four-year-old Suyeon with her parents and the director, smiling in front of the newly built orphanage.

“What is your name again…?”

“Chae Suyeon.”

“Yes, that’s right. I remember your father calling you ‘Suyeon-ah.’ You used to come with your mother, such an adorable little girl—and now you’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman. You’ve truly turned out wonderfully.”

The director’s hand brushed gently over Suyeon’s, her eyes brimming.

“I heard the news back then. I can still feel the way my heart dropped. How could such a thing happen to such kind, good people? I cried for days.”

She spoke of the struggles back then—how the orphanage had been impossible to establish due to lack of funds and local opposition, until Suyeon’s father stepped in. From design to construction, he had fought to give the children a home, and afterward continued to send generous donations every month. To the director, he was more than a benefactor; he was unforgettable.

“I never forgot your face as a child. I always wished to see you again, and now, here you are. Thank you.”

“It’s me who should be thankful… to see the building my father made still standing. And… please accept this.”

Suyeon handed her an envelope. The director opened it, startled.

“What is this?”

“Please use it for the children.”

Her smile was soft, but her gaze was steady.

“I’m grateful, but I cannot accept this. What your father already gave us was more than enough.”

“It’s all right. Please, take it.”

“No. I already feel guilty for receiving so much from your parents, and I didn’t even attend their funeral. I couldn’t possibly.”

“There was barely a funeral at all… The fire left nothing but ashes. All we could do was scatter what little remained into the sea.”

That day—bright with sunlight, like today—Suyeon had lost everything. And yet, the sea shimmered with a beauty that had burned itself forever into her memory, alongside the image of Yongsoon’s tear-streaked face as he wept for her parents.

“I always wanted to come back, but I didn’t have the courage. I thought the memories would be too painful.”

“Of course. But it’s all right.”

The director laid her hands gently over Suyeon’s.

“Good memories don’t vanish. They stay inside us and give us the strength to live on. Your father’s building keeps our children safe and happy every day. Without him, their lives and futures would have been in jeopardy.”

Suyeon rose slowly.

“Then please… just accept it.”

The director relented, nodding softly.

“Then promise me this—come back whenever you miss your parents. Don’t hesitate.”

She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a worn, old album. From it, she drew a single photo.

“I kept this all these years, just in case. And now, I can finally give it to you.”

It was a family portrait. Her father, her mother, and little Suyeon, smiling brightly between them.

“This was taken the day the orphanage was completed.”

Suyeon’s nose stung, her throat tightening. She fought hard against the tears that threatened to spill.

“What a beautiful family. I’m so glad this photo has found its way back to you.”

“Thank you.”

Suyeon pressed her lips tight, bowed politely, and left.

“Suyeon, let’s meet again soon!”

As she stepped outside, sunlight streamed down. A passing breeze stirred her hair, as if to carry her parents’ warmth.

Time passed. The day came when Yoonjae was to be interviewed after receiving the Architect of the Year Award. Since early morning, his office had been busy preparing.

Taking advantage of a moment when Director Han and Secretary Kwon stepped out, Suyeon went to his study.

Her eyes were swollen from the night before. She had wept for hours, staring at the photograph the director had given her, unable to stop the tears. Against her pale skin, the redness around her eyes was stark. Neither ice nor green tea bags had eased the swelling.

She tried to avoid Yoonjae’s gaze.

But he was already watching. Seated on the sofa, he had been fastening his cufflinks, only to pause when his eyes found hers.

“Is your injury all right?” she asked.

“You came just in time. These bandages make my hand clumsy. Would you help me, if you don’t mind?”

For a brief second, Suyeon hesitated. Then she slowly closed the distance.

“Shall I fasten the cufflinks, then?”

Her fingers moved carefully over the buttons. Yoonjae’s dark eyes lingered on her face.

“Secretary Chae…” His voice was low, heavy.

“Did you cry?”

“What?”

“You look like you’ve been crying.”

“No. I just slept a lot because I was tired. I must be a little puffy.”

He frowned at her answer.

“Since you’re here, would you adjust my tie as well?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

“No one’s good at it the first time.”

“Then… please be patient with me.”

Her slender, pale fingers trembled as they moved to his tie. Watching her, Yoonjae’s brow furrowed ever so slightly.