42.
Even If It Is Not, It Cannot Be Helped
Clean air, clear sunlight; the morning at Domyeongjae was as bright as it had always been.
The weather, mild and pleasant, was no different from yesterday’s, yet the world Yeonwoo woke up to felt fundamentally altered.
She had spent a sleepless night tossing and turning—sitting up to smooth her bedding, lying back down, closing her eyes, only to pace the room in agitation.
That the sensation of his lips was still vivid was one thing, but it was baffling why the dizzying, electrifying ripple that had traveled to her toes the moment he searched her mouth refused to fade.
No matter how hard she tried to push it aside, the kiss had lasted little more than a minute. She squeezed her eyes shut while drying her hair and let out a pained, shaky sigh while dressing.
As she hurried to leave for work, Yeonwoo closed her eyes, gathering her composure. Yesterday, in the early hours, she had found herself weeping without warning when asked if she intended to settle with Cha Yoonseok.
She had been aware of Seongheon’s approach, yet her tears had refused to stop. The news of Cha Yoonseok’s impending arrest brought her no relief; she knew he would eventually walk free again. This was not the end.
Her heart had ached at the word “settlement”—a term Seongheon brought up for her own protection, yet the mere sound of it made her feel as if she were unraveling.
Just as the humiliation of being unable to do anything but weep in front of him crushed her, he had pressed his lips to hers. Slowly. Respectfully.
It hadn’t happened without warning. There had been a three- or four-second pause—more than enough time for her to pull away.
It was as if Seongheon, cradling her face in his hands, was silently requesting her consent. She wasn’t a fool; she had known exactly what he was about to do. She could have turned her head, and he would have stepped back.
But the version of her that existed yesterday hadn’t done that.
She hadn’t avoided him. She had accepted it.
Yeonwoo forced her eyelids open and let out a long, shuddering breath. Her heart was racing like she had run a marathon; she felt as if it wouldn’t calm until it stopped beating entirely.
*Hoo.* With one final, deep breath, she hurried toward work, intent on finishing her morning tasks before leaving for Seoul.
*Don’t get hurt. Don’t go anywhere alone.*
One could not hear such words without being moved.
*Stay by my side from now on.*
Could the instruction to remain by someone’s side, to never wander alone, truly feel like such a comfort?
These words were no different from what Cha Yoonseok had once demanded of her, yet the weight behind them was so different that it seemed a strange affair. She could feel, all too clearly, that this was rooted in care and protection, not the suffocating obsession or love-hate of the past.
“Hey, newbie. Out early, are you?”
*Ah.* Perhaps I wanted to be loved.
Perhaps I wasn’t looking for a place to hide, but a place to lean.
“Did you get any sleep? You were on night duty. You should’ve rested more.”
Just as her heart was spiraling, Eun-ja offered a morning greeting as she entered the main building. Yeonwoo forced a faint smile.
“Hello.”
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, come here for a sec.”
Yeonwoo walked over without asking why.
“Did you do your homework well?”
“Oh my, there was just so much this time.”
Eun-ja, who had been waiting eagerly, brandished a notebook. She complained about the workload as if setting the stage, clicking her tongue at the burden.
“It’s killing me. Working, groceries, cleaning, laundry, cooking. Add to that the homework, the dramas, and just washing this old body of mine? It’s enough to kill a person.”
“Wow, you did it all?”
“What choice do I have? If the teacher tells me to, I have to follow. If I rebel, I’m not a student.”
Eun-ja, who had been fishing for praise, grinned at Yeonwoo’s genuine encouragement. As Yeonwoo lavished her with praise for every page she turned, Eun-ja finally began to beam.
After reviewing the old work, Yeonwoo assigned new tasks. Seeing the increased volume, Eun-ja immediately made a fuss.
“Oh my! How am I supposed to do all this! Even doing this took all night and was pure misery!”
“It’s not for one day. It’s for three.”
“Three days?”
“Yes. I have business in Seoul, so I’m leaving for a while.”
Eun-ja’s eyes went round. Just then, Manager Moon arrived, having received the schedule from Seongheon, and informed Yeonwoo that her morning duties were finished and it was time to depart.
“What? Where are you going?”
As Eun-ja reached out to grab her, Manager Moon gently intervened.
“The Managing Director is waiting. Please hurry.”
Yeonwoo hesitated, then nodded. Ten minutes after arriving, she was already reaching for her shoes. Eun-ja followed her out, looking distressed.
“What is it, newbie? Are you really going?”
“Yes. I’ll be back. If you don’t know how to do the homework, just call me.”
“Oh my. You really are going. Are you actually coming back?”
Yeonwoo put on her shoes and stood up. After offering a polite farewell to Manager Moon, she turned back to Eun-ja.
“I’m not disappearing, am I? I’ll be back after three nights.”
Eun-ja asked for confirmation again, and Yeonwoo smiled, this time with true brightness.
“Of course. I will come back.”
“If you’re lying, I’m going to pack up my notebooks and chase after you, so don’t even think about it. Just finish your business and get back down here. You hear me?”
Eun-ja remained skeptical, clutching her notebook. As Seongheon appeared before the main building, Yeonwoo turned away, leaving Domyeongjae with a promise to stay in touch.
“People don’t notice when someone is there, but they notice when they’re gone. You better come back.”
Eun-ja, unaware of the broader situation, just watched them, feeling a hollow ache in her chest—the sudden, distressing sensation of a tooth being pulled.
*
“Did you get any sleep?”
Once they had cleared the gates of Domyeongjae, Seongheon, who had been silent, finally spoke.
Yeonwoo, who had been struggling to breathe normally, sat up straighter.
“Yes. I slept well.”
“I see.”
“……”
“It’s fortunate that you, at least, slept well, Ji Yeonwoo.”
His voice held a hint of *I barely slept*, and Yeonwoo bit her lip. Seongheon looked entirely formal as he scanned the documents in his briefcase, his demeanor clinical.
She sat in perfect stillness beside him. Minutes bled away, marked only by the crisp sound of turning pages.
*Hoo.* Seongheon sighed and lifted his head.
Wondering if something was wrong, Yeonwoo glanced at him. Their eyes met.
Seongheon didn’t look away. Instead, he tilted his head, watching her with a weary, resigned expression. His voice dropped to a breathy tone.
“There’s a mountain of work to do, but it’s hard to get anything done.”
He was a man who never panicked, a man whose composure was so absolute that it often intimidated those around him. Yet today, he seemed unsettled.
His eyes, when fixed on the documents, lacked his usual sharp focus—they seemed merely performative. But when he looked at her, his gaze held a turbulence of emotion he seemed unable to contain.
She had believed no one could surpass him at hiding their true self. Yet, the look he leveled at her now was absurdly tender.
“Ji Yeonwoo seems carefree, while I’m the only one losing sleep and feeling anxious.”
*Is this really Managing Director Nam Seongheon?* Yeonwoo closed her eyes. She had spent the entire night fixated on their kiss, but she realized that she had likely fared better than he had.
His expression—staring off into the distance as if his own words had blindsided him—was entirely foreign. If not for the way he sat, his legs crossed with that familiar, commanding posture, she might have mistaken him for a stranger.
She searched for a reply, but nothing felt adequate. She could not muster even a single warm word, busy as she was blaming herself for her own bashfulness.
Despite the kiss, he remained, in her mind, the Managing Director of Seoryang Construction, the Master of Domyeongjae, a man of thirty-five. He was not yet just “Nam Seongheon.”
It was not easy to match the vulnerability he was showing. She didn’t even understand her own heart; she had no desire to complicate things with impulsive, hollow words.
She didn’t want to plant expectations she couldn’t fulfill, nor did she want to dangle false hope.
Regardless of what happened, she felt that, eventually, she would be the one to get hurt.
“……Ah.”
They were driving down a quiet road lined with decades-old fringe trees.
Seongheon, still looking out the window, extended his palm toward her side of the seat as if gesturing at the popcorn-like flower clusters.
*Ah.* A soft sound escaped her. His long, straight fingers flickered, a silent demand for her hand. Yeonwoo hesitated, her heart pounding.
They passed the bus stop where she had first met him.
His silhouette—the muddy jeans, the business card he had held out in the fog—returned to her like a haunting painting. It hadn’t been long, yet it felt like a lifetime ago.
As she looked down at her palm, she heard his voice.
“When you first came to Domyeongjae, didn’t you say you would do whatever I asked?”
It was a shrewd question.
“It seems you said you would do anything. Was I wrong?”
She wanted to ask if “whatever” included holding the Managing Director’s hand, but her throat felt constricted by nerves.
Seongheon continued to watch the scenery, but his fingers drummed against the seat again.
“Then do as I say.”
“……”
“From now on, Ji Yeonwoo, stop thinking. I’ll be the one to do the thinking.”
He moved his fingers once more, a final invitation.
Without a conscious decision, Yeonwoo reached out and placed her hand in his. The moment they touched, he snatched her hand, gripping it tightly and interlacing his fingers with hers.
As his hand enveloped hers, locking them together, Yeonwoo finally released the breath she had been holding.
“Is this…… right?”
She asked, the anxiety leaking into her voice.
He caressed the back of her hand, his touch heavy and deliberate.
“It is right.”
Unable to endure the intimacy of his touch, Yeonwoo turned her gaze to the opposite window.
Whether she stopped thinking, or whether she would suffer for this later, no longer seemed to matter.
“Even if it isn’t, there’s nothing I can do about it now.”
In that moment, she was dominated by a singular, crushing truth: if she didn’t take this hand right now, she would regret it for the rest of her life.