As Yeonwoo stepped out of the cafe, Seongheon reached out his arm, a natural gesture. Sensing the signal, Yeonwoo took his hand without hesitation.
Outside the office, amidst the ebb and flow of employees, Seongheon steered her toward the passenger seat of his sedan. He climbed into the driver’s side and immediately shifted into gear.
Yeonwoo fastened her seatbelt, glancing back at the building.
“I think people saw us.”
“Sounds like you’re the type to act and regret it later.”
His words, implying that the damage was already done, forced Yeonwoo to look straight ahead.
*Let’s be together today. I’ll leave the choice to you.*
A sense of crisis rippled through the quiet air. She felt an instinctual pull: if she let this man walk away now, a sorrow deeper than her own fear would surely follow. She stayed in the car, her resolve hardening. Living through the present was already overwhelming; she couldn’t bear to imagine a tomorrow without him.
Sitting in silence, she realized that dwelling on a distant future was useless.
“What were you thinking about at the cafe?”
His voice sounded startlingly ordinary, a stark contrast to her own tangled thoughts. Yeonwoo gripped her seatbelt and spoke.
“I was thinking a lot, I suppose. Just this and that.”
“About me?”
“……I was.”
When she replied in a small voice, Seongheon offered a silent smile. Navigating the gridlocked traffic, he glanced at her, his gaze steady.
“What should we do now? What shall we try?”
The question felt like a soliloquy, pressing down on her mind.
“Let’s eat first. Anything you want?”
“I’m not picky. I eat everything.”
“What’s your favorite cuisine?”
“Uh, Korean food, I suppose……”
“Korean food. Let’s do that.”
Tapping the steering wheel while waiting for the light to change, he pressed the accelerator. He made a sharp left turn as if his destination had been decided long ago, and Yeonwoo raised her eyebrows. It felt as though she had been cast in a film with an unknown ending—a narrative where she couldn’t guess the next scene, let alone the conclusion.
The only thing she could predict was that, eventually, it would end.
Beside Seongheon, who seemed devoid of any particular distress, Yeonwoo let out a heavy breath. The price of her impulse to reach out to him was already steeper than she had imagined.
*
The restaurant was a cramped, unassuming space with only three tables. There was no menu; the evening’s meal was entirely at the whim of the owner.
When they entered, an elderly woman in a stained apron turned on the gas stove without a word of greeting. Yeonwoo took the hint and sat across from Seongheon. Soon, mugs of mugwort soup and spicy sliced sand lance were placed before them.
“Eat up. I’ll bring you more.”
There was a genuine kindness in the owner’s voice. Yeonwoo’s eyes widened.
“For a second, I thought it was Manager Moon.”
“She’s a native of Moksan-Gun. I found out one of her family members used to work at Domyeongjae.”
“Wow.”
As Yeonwoo let out a small, amazed exclamation, Seongheon glanced toward the kitchen, then stood up. He walked to the drink refrigerator, his tall frame looking slightly out of place in the modest shop.
“I think I’ll have a drink.”
When he asked if she wanted one, she nodded.
“I’ll have one too.”
The situation was too heavy to face sober.
*
The dishes kept coming, the table never quite clearing. The owner, clearly familiar with the palate of a long-time regular like Seongheon, brought out customized side dishes.
When Yeonwoo emptied her glass, Seongheon paused, setting his bottle down. In the kitchen, the rhythmic, dazzling sound of the owner’s knife work caught Yeonwoo’s attention. She watched for a moment and burst into a soft laugh.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Just because. I was surprised to find you frequenting a place like this.”
“It’s a spot my uncle, the company president, introduced me to. I’ve been coming here for over ten years.”
“That’s nice. The food is excellent.”
“The owner is hard of hearing, so the privacy is a perk.”
“Yes.”
Inside the restaurant, which had aged alongside its owner, Seongheon’s refined appearance looked like an illustration pasted onto an old photograph. In a place where one usually loosened their tie and drank to forget, his upright posture was startlingly deliberate.
How many glasses had they emptied?
Seongheon finally spoke, his voice low.
“I thought you would send me away at the cafe.”
“Were you surprised that I came out?”
“I’d say I was glad.”
He swallowed his drink, his expression unreadable, and set the glass down. Yeonwoo moistened her lips.
“You see, I honestly didn’t have any intention of meeting anyone. When I found Domyeongjae, I was exhausted. I had no motivation, and I didn’t want to open my heart to anyone, but……”
“…….”
“I really didn’t want to meet anyone. I couldn’t trust people, and I didn’t want to try.”
Her words flowed out, incoherent and spilling over, devoid of any calculated direction. Yet, Seongheon listened in silence.
“But, every time you gave me strength at Domyeongjae, Managing Director, I think I was a little…… glad.”
“…….”
“Before I knew it, I think that’s how my heart was feeling. I relied on you a lot. That’s the truth.”
She spoke slowly, pouring the entirety of her sincerity into the explanation.
“And, I have one thing I’m curious about.”
“…….”
“Why do you, why would someone like you, choose someone like me……”
The true question had slipped out. She trailed off, ashamed of her own self-deprecation, but he clearly understood every word. She felt as though she had laid a large chunk of her heart bare, yet he simply refilled his glass, as if he had no intention of providing a quick answer.
“Anyone would be suspicious. Anyone in my shoes would find it hard to believe……”
“I’ve thought about it, too.”
“…….”
“To be honest, it’s not that I haven’t wondered. I wanted to be convinced before anyone else.”
He continued, his voice steady.
“Perhaps I just needed a place to pour my heart into. Or maybe it was just a base, animal instinct to protect you, Ji Yeonwoo? I’ve gone over it a thousand times.”
Yeonwoo stayed silent.
“At first, I wondered if I was just glancing your way a couple of times, but that wasn’t it. I became curious about your name, then your age. Before I knew it, I was consumed by how you ended up at Domyeongjae.”
“…….”
“I tried to fold those thoughts, to tuck them away. But they wouldn’t stay. The more I knew, the more I wanted to know.”
He paused, thinking of his aunt’s earlier inquiry about his dating life. He downed the liquor, the burn helping to clear his frustration. He placed his glass down and met her eyes, searching for himself in her pupils.
*How I wish you were just field grass I could trample on and walk past. How I wish you were a dandelion spore that would scatter on its own.*
But those were only futile wishes.
“As you might know—no, you might not know well—I’ve never had a desire for something I couldn’t possess. I never even thought a person could become an object of such desire.”
“…….”
“So I didn’t know either. I didn’t know how maddening it is for a person to simply watch what they want sitting right in front of them.”
“…….”
“Yet, unexpectedly, it hasn’t been bad. In fact, it seems I’ve enjoyed the situation.”
He let out a silent sigh, recalling his conversation with his uncle. For her, who had just taken her first step, this timing—this era—was the worst. Even so, was it greed to want to begin?
“Ji Yeonwoo-ssi.”
“Yes, Managing Director.”
*No,* he thought. *I want to place more weight on the concept of fate.*
“From now on, there is only one thing we must do. We must reach a conclusion between us.”
“…….”
“Of course, I’ve already reached my answer, but you will need time for yours.”
“What is the answer you’ve reached, Managing Director?”
“You know it well.”
As he murmured this, Yeonwoo’s heart pounded. The answer he left unsaid felt far more daunting than what she had dared to imagine. A conclusion between them felt impossible to reach through expectations alone.
“How about it? Do you have any intention of trying to create that conclusion?”
“I have the intention, but……”
“…….”
“I have no confidence.”
The clattering from the kitchen cut through their silence—a noisy, jarring reminder of reality.
“I’m just as lacking in confidence,” Seongheon admitted. “That’s why I’m going to try. For our ending.”
He offered a faint, sad smile.
“So you try it too, Ji Yeonwoo-ssi. Find the courage. Become self-conscious if you have to. Become shameless. Throw away your pride. Do something—even if it’s just a mental victory.”
*My aunt is looking for prospects for you,* he thought, suppressed anger simmering beneath his calm. *Do something. I hope for a positive result for us.*
Emptying the last of his glass, Seongheon closed his eyes and opened them again.
“Let’s go. Once we try, we’ll know. Whether we are truly fate, or if this is just a fling.”
His voice resonated in her chest like the tolling of a temple bell. Unable to answer, Yeonwoo swallowed the lump in her throat.
It was a moment where no one could laugh. A moment where one could not shine with excitement, nor sing of love.
“And, until then, I’ll be counting on you.”
We were born in such a moment, in such a time.
It was the birth of lovers.