“Looks like you’ve been crying. And quite a lot, at that.”
There was no retort. Yeonwoo kept her gaze fixed on the ground, worrying her lip between her teeth.
The tears that had burst forth, scratching at her insides, were not about to subside. There was no going back to how she looked before the breakdown. Even opening her eyes felt like a chore, and as time passed, her lids only grew more bruised and tender.
She had spent hours sobbing with every ounce of strength she could muster; she could only imagine the sight she presented. Her lips were surely chapped, her eyes swollen to a pitiable degree.
Yeonwoo was desperate to avoid his gaze. She kept her mouth shut, recalling Manager Moon’s instruction never to breathe a word about what had happened.
She had met Cha Yoonseok in his office; perhaps Seongheon would ask questions. If so, what should she say? She would have to calmly gloss over it, pretending they were just a normal boss and secretary.
“I’ve learned your name, and your age.”
However, unexpected words flowed from his lips.
“I had been wondering what else I needed to know about Ji Yeonwoo, but now, I think I understand.”
A gust of wind swept through.
*Swish—* The wild grass, left to grow as it pleased, swayed in the wind, creating a desolate atmosphere.
The breeze hit her pupils, where tears had been sizzling and boiling, causing a stinging sensation. Yeonwoo helplessly closed her eyes, then opened them again. Her disheveled hair danced wildly, but she let it be.
“I don’t think you’d answer even if I asked why you were crying.”
Ah. Since he’s curious, should I make up a lie?
“It’s obvious that whatever I hear would be a lie.”
“…….”
Thoughts bloomed, only to be crushed immediately. Fearing that this man was peering into her heart, Yeonwoo swallowed hard, feeling a prick of guilt. Unwilling to show him her swollen face, she couldn’t bring herself to lift her head; even a trivial word felt like a burden.
Should I say I was scolded by Manager Moon? Would he believe me?
She twitched her lips but gave up. No matter what excuse she made, Seongheon would surely consider it a lie, and she possessed no skill to cover it up.
“I just had some troubling personal matters. It’s private. Please, just pretend you didn’t see.”
“I’ve already seen everything, so what exactly do you want me to pretend not to see?”
“Employees have personal privacy, too. There are things we don’t want to be caught doing.”
“Then you shouldn’t have worn such a face.”
“…….”
“Standing there with a face that looks like death, ready to collapse at the slightest touch—and you ask me what not to see, what to pretend not to know…”
*Ha…* Seongheon couldn’t finish his sentence and let out a bitter sigh. He gritted his teeth, swallowing the words that were about to spill over.
The moment it crossed his mind that she couldn’t have reached such a state from shedding just a tear or two, his vision blurred with rage. A sickening energy rose from the soles of his feet, threatening to wither his blood.
But whether his vision blurred or his blood dried, it had nothing to do with her. He couldn’t be the other boss hounding Yeonwoo, who had clearly been tormented by a superior named Cha Yoonseok.
“……I’m going crazy.”
He was truly at his wit’s end, caught in a situation where he could do nothing. He was afraid that he might look exactly like Cha Yoonseok; afraid that he might become a threat to her.
Even after seeing this, he could only let out angry breaths, unable to act.
Does the wind brush against her feet? Does the glow of the sunset fill the space between them?
“Life is… difficult, isn’t it?”
Her voice, weakened to the core, sank low. It was a tone laced with self-mockery.
“I don’t know why life is so hard. I feel like I’ve lived diligently, and I haven’t lived with any grand dreams, either.”
“…….”
“I think I’ve lived it all wrong. In the end, it’s all my fault that I’ve lived my life this way.”
Clutching a broom covered in someone else’s fingerprints, Yeonwoo murmured and let out a small, hollow laugh. She felt as though she had reached the edge of an abyss, where she ended up blaming herself for everything.
“I just had that thought, and I felt a bit depressed. I have days like that sometimes. Where I feel drained for no reason, and I don’t want to think about any—”
“That is true. It is difficult at times. But does living, for Ji Yeonwoo, feel as difficult as it is for me?”
The lamentation of a man who could do nothing for fear of causing her to tremble began. Yeonwoo nodded as if acknowledging it.
“Yes. I think it’s harder for you, Managing Director. You run such a large business.”
*No. My life became difficult because of you.*
*If I said that, you would back away, wouldn’t you?*
“It seems you’ve understood it entirely differently from my intention, but I suppose I can’t stop you. Interpret it as you please.”
The sun dipped in an instant, faded, and vanished.
Just as the burning sunset was enveloped by blue light, the wind, which she had thought had drifted far away, swirled back to sweep the courtyard of Unseondang.
Unlike the previous breeze, the wind that signaled the start of the night was cold and strong. Down below, the hem of Yeonwoo’s skirt fluttered; above, petals fell from the thick branches in a rush.
A rain of flowers poured down.
Though it lasted only a moment, it fell until it obscured her vision, scattering messily across the yard.
Yeonwoo closed her eyes, then opened them again. The blue darkness, the hundreds of white petals, and Seongheon standing tall amidst them—he suited the moment perfectly.
“Ji Yeonwoo-ssi.”
His voice, close at hand, sounded distant, making her feel as though she were dreaming, her weary body and mind exhausted from crying.
“Ji Yeonwoo-ssi is living well. You have lived well, and you will live even better than anyone else.”
“…….”
“I will become the proof of that.”
That is a strange thing to say.
He doesn’t even know what’s going on. He isn’t going to protect me, and I have no intention of leaning on him.
For what reason, then, does this heart, which has been in turmoil all along, begin to settle?
Whenever I stand before this man.
As if nothing had happened. As if nothing would happen.
“Try believing it, as if you’re being deceived. I will be the undeniable proof.”
True peace settled in, brought by words of comfort she thought no one could give.
For the first time, Yeonwoo found the courage to look at Seongheon. His gaze lingered on her face for a long time, as if trying to decipher the stories written by her dried tear tracks.
A moment later, Seongheon slowly raised his arm. Yeonwoo instinctively hunched her shoulders and squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the broom tightly.
But no matter how much time passed, there was no sensation of touch—and when she cautiously opened her eyes, thinking it might have been a false alarm—
He was carefully removing a petal from her long hair, then taking a step back.
Holding the small petal, he parted his lips.
*I asked for your heart, but you wouldn’t give it to me.*
“I don’t think there is anything I can do for you, Ji Yeonwoo-ssi. You should go now. I will handle the airing out.”
“No, that’s my job. After I finish sweeping…”
*Wait, no? Did I ask for your heart?*
“Go. Wash your face. Or just gaze at Mount Yeosong, which you like, and settle your heart.”
Seongheon took the broom Yeonwoo had been holding.
“I will head inside now as well. I have work to do.”
“Yes, Managing Director. Thank you for your hard work today. Oh… and thank you. For speaking to me so kindly.”
“No. It is I who should be thanking you.”
Seongheon finished his greeting with a bow.
His head, which had been blurry and complex all day, was now neatly organized.
“Thank you, Ji Yeonwoo-ssi. For turning my hesitation into a resolution.”
By getting deeply involved in her life and making a fuss, he had concluded his agreement with himself.
*
Having shed only his jacket, Seongheon entered his study and sat down, calling the Chief Secretary at headquarters. Before the ring could even sound twice, the secretary picked up.
“Yes, Managing Director. This is Manager Yeom.”
“Are you busy?”
“No, sir.”
Putting on his glasses out of habit, Seongheon opened his laptop. As the screen flashed to life, he opened the file for Namsong Industrial Development.
“I need some information on Namsong Industrial Development.”
“Yes, Managing Director. I will send it right over.”
“No. The information you have, I have as well. Not those official documents—something else.”
“Something else, you say… what kind of…”
As Manager Yeom trailed off, Seongheon leaned back in his chair.
“I’m curious about a person. I want to check what kind of human being he is.”
“Are you referring to President Cha Gil-wook?”
“No. His son.”
“You mean Vice President Cha Yoonseok?”
“That’s the one.”
Seongheon suddenly stood up. He left the desk and began to open the tightly sealed windows one by one to begin the airing out.
For Seongheon, airing out a room was something he could skip for a day, but since he had taken over Yeonwoo’s chores, he had no choice.
“I’m a bit interested in his background. I want to know what kind of person he is.”
“Understood, Managing Director.”
“How long will it take?”
“One hour should be enough.”
“Good work.”
Opening the last small window, Seongheon finished the ventilation. With every window wide open, he let out a dry chuckle, as if satisfied with completing his homework.
He looked down at his phone.
*Wait, no? Did I ask for your heart?*
The face of Cha Yoonseok, who would always snicker and giggle at the end of his sentences while telling crude jokes, flashed into his mind. Seongheon gripped his phone tightly and returned to his seat.
He stared intensely at the 「Namsong Industrial Development」 document on the screen. Then, tilting his head back, he stared at the ceiling.
*Life is… difficult, isn’t it?*
He traveled back to the time he first saw Yeonwoo. That morning, in that rain, at that bus stop. The powerless, detached look in her eyes, even after seeing her clothes and sneakers splattered with mud, had shown no reaction.
How could I have known then? That you were a person who had escaped just to survive, caught in the depths of despair.
As he stored up his rage like a savings account, his heart cooled down steadily. His thoughts grew even colder, and his mental state became concise, as if only the crystallized form of his anger remained.
The secretary, who had said an hour would be enough, called back in thirty minutes. Seongheon picked up the phone.