“Hyung is currently in the Main Building. He stays at a hotel sometimes, but he told me to let him know whenever he is needed for Minho. He said he’d be in the Main Building as much as possible.”
Na-eun recalled what Kang-Hyuk had said. It was clear that he wanted to do something for Minho, yet she detected a profound sense of resignation beneath his words. A lingering melancholy. She found herself wondering if he, too, was in need of counseling. Perhaps if they attended Minho’s sessions together, Minho’s father might find some healing as well. However, she couldn’t voice such thoughts to Choi Kang-Woo. There were boundaries that even brothers could not cross.
“Now, let’s set the talk about Minho aside for a moment…”
Choi Kang-Woo smiled faintly, took Na-eun’s wine glass, and set it on the table.
“We need to have our own conversation.”
“Our conversation?”
When Na-eun looked up with wide eyes, Choi Kang-Woo smiled and pressed his lips to hers. As if he had been yearning for this all day, his kiss was relentless and searing. Na-eun closed her eyes, surrendering to the heat. Even with her vision blocked, the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree seemed to pulse behind her eyelids. As the kiss deepened, they sank onto the sofa, bodies pressed tightly together, both aching with a sharp, mutual hunger.
However, as his touch grew more demanding, Na-eun pulled back slightly, glancing around the room.
“Not here. The children might wake up and come out.”
Seeing her startled expression, Choi Kang-Woo tapped the tip of her nose, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.
“I know. I have at least that much sense. Who do you take me for? A beast driven solely by instinct?”
Na-eun shook her head, speaking softly, as if soothing a child.
“No. I don’t think that at all. I think Choi Kang-Woo is very rational, with excellent judgment. And patience, too.”
Choi Kang-Woo leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.
“Usually, yes. But not when I’m with Han Na-Eun.”
With that, he rose, lifted Na-eun into his arms, and headed upstairs. It appeared his restraint only applied to the space near the Christmas tree.
Unlike the first floor, the second floor was enveloped in a cold, heavy air. Choi Kang-Woo’s room was impeccably tidy, yet the gray, dark-toned furniture gave it a frigid atmosphere. Na-eun shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. The air was cold enough to sting the tip of her nose.
“I’ve noticed this for a while—do you always keep it this cold?”
Choi Kang-Woo nodded.
“Yes. I think it stays at this temperature.”
“It’s freezing.”
A slight tremor betrayed her voice. Choi Kang-Woo glanced at the thermostat and smiled.
“I prefer it this way, but should I turn up the heat?”
His tone was calm, but his gaze held a flicker of genuine concern. Na-eun stepped closer, looking up at him.
“No.”
She smiled, whispering softly,
“It’s cold. Just hug me.”
Feeling his heart hammer against his ribs, Choi Kang-Woo pulled her into his arms without hesitation. As their body heat met, the room’s chill began to melt away, replaced by the slow, steady rise of warmth.
He whispered into her hair.
“This woman is a master.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means there’s no one who can push me to the edge like Han Na-Eun.”
As he spoke, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. The distance between them vanished, and her scent washed over him, her slender, warm body grounding his spiraling thoughts. He wanted nothing—and no one—else.
* * *
A call came from the Main Building. They wanted her to stop by. After feeding the children an early dinner and leaving them in the care of Ms. Lee, Na-eun left The Annex and walked toward the Main Building.
The garden was blanketed in snow, reflecting the early evening moonlight in a display of stark, winter beauty. The grounds of the Myeongseong Group Chairman’s estate were a testament to meticulous care; the trees stood like statues in white cloaks, and the gravel path crunched softly under her feet, winding past small, snow-dusted sculptures.
The bluish light of twilight cast faint shadows across the drifts, and the wind stirred the branches, breaking the profound silence of the winter night. A small fountain sat in the center of the yard, frozen and dormant beneath a layer of ice and snow. The benches surrounding it were similarly buried, untouched by footprints.
In the distance, the soft, warm glow from the Main Building’s windows offered a reprieve from the cold landscape. It was a beautiful path, yet the prospect of entering the Main Building still tightened her nerves.
When she arrived, Kang-Hyuk welcomed her.
“Welcome, teacher.”
She had worried he might have already left the country, so she was relieved to find him still there.
“Hello, Minho’s father. Have you been well?”
“Yes. I’ve been well.”
Choi Kyung-Hye stepped to his side.
“Welcome. Have you eaten?”
“Yes, I ate with the children.”
Choi Kyung-Hye looked out the window at the snow-laden garden, the bluish light catching the shimmering frost on the branches. As she turned back, the steam from her tea curled around her face, veiling her expression as she watched Na-eun.
“Let’s talk, then. Ma’am, bring some tea.”
Her voice was calm and clinical. A moment later, steaming ginger tea was served. Na-eun cradled the cup, but her focus was entirely on Choi Kyung-Hye. She needed to discern the woman’s true intentions.
Na-eun took a quiet sip and spoke.
“I heard you found a new teacher. Kim Yoon-Jung is highly renowned. I respect her work; she is an authority on childhood trauma.”
Choi Kyung-Hye smiled thinly.
“It’s a relief you know her. Kang-Hyuk has postponed his departure. Our family’s eldest grandson is, after all, our priority. I called you here to discuss the upcoming schedule.”
Her tone was as sterile as a business briefing, yet Na-eun sensed the underlying current of concern. She nodded.
“I understand.”
Choi Kyung-Hye drank her tea and let out a measured breath.
“Since you, Han Na-Eun, currently have the greatest influence on Minho, I would like you to accompany him to his counseling sessions.”
“Yes.”
“And I intend for Kang-Hyuk to see Minho from time to time. I expect you to coordinate that with the lead teacher and the counselor.”
“Yes.”
Na-eun hesitated, then added,
“We made a very lovely Christmas tree on the first floor of The Annex. Jiho and Minho helped put it together.”
Choi Kyung-Hye looked toward the window, sipping her tea with an indifferent expression.
“Is that so?”
“We decided to place presents under it. We’re telling the children they are from Santa Claus, and we encouraged them to make their own gifts for the tree as well.”
“And?”
Choi Kyung-Hye’s tone pressed for the point.
“I think it would be meaningful if Minho’s father prepared a small gift to leave under the tree. Please express your love for Minho through a gift. It doesn’t have to be grand—just something he would appreciate. Even when you aren’t there, it would let him know that you are always thinking of him.”
“Understood. Thank you, teacher. For taking such wonderful care of Minho.”
“That is my job.”
As Kang-Hyuk thanked her, clearly moved, Choi Kyung-Hye studied Na-eun. She had never known a woman who could love a child with such intensity. She realized, with a jolt, that she had never even raised her own sons with such devotion. If a woman like this were Minho’s mother, she would be an invaluable asset to the boy.
Driven by a sudden, sharp curiosity, she asked,
“Doesn’t Jiho’s father intend to raise her? Even if you are a single mother, surely she has a father?”
Na-eun froze, her lips pressing into a thin line. Before she could stumble through an answer, Kang-Hyuk intervened, his voice cutting through the room with a sharp reprimand.
“How can you ask such a personal question so rudely?”
“Why not? We are all laying our circumstances out on the table.”
“That is a private matter, Mother. The teacher only needs to be involved in matters concerning Minho.”
Under his sharp tone, Choi Kyung-Hye fell silent.