INT Ch 8.2
by mimi“I’m feeling really bad right now, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Why are you asking me? You’d know best yourself.”
His eyes seemed to say that he wasn’t a child, and it wasn’t like he’d never felt these emotions before. He just didn’t know what to do with them, so he was trying everything that came to mind: asking for coffee, asking someone to play the violin, asking for food to be cooked, asking for Kim Jaemin’s phone number. Even after all that, he still couldn’t shake it, so now he was asking for proof of ownership and demanding clothes be taken off.
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“What do you even call feeling this filthy?”
“…Are you stupid? It’s jealousy.”
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“Jealousy?”
“Yeah, jealousy. Like how I hate the people you’ve dated before. Obviously, the elders wouldn’t be any different.”
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Haewon was jealous of his dead fiancée. It was definitely a nasty feeling, and Hyun Woojin must have felt just as disgusted.
“I didn’t expect I’d get to see your fingers and toes up close.”
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“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think I’d end up coming all the way here again.”
“…Jealousy?”
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Jealousy…? With an expression that showed he couldn’t quite understand, he seemed to be scrutinizing his feelings and actions.
“Anyway, if this is something that might happen again, I’d like to block it in advance. Whether you move out or give them a clearer warning.”
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“How would you even block it? You gonna put a chastity belt on me? Be realistic.”
“Chastity belt?”
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The glint in his eyes was strangely amused as he pictured it. His arm got a solid punch when he said it might not be a bad idea.
“I’ve got a lot to bring up too. I’m just holding back because arguing won’t do any good.”
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He had no right to talk. Flitting in and out of hotels with women while meeting with Taeshin, never once saying he liked or loved Haewon—those simple words.
Haewon didn’t show it because begging for affection felt pathetic, but he had been hurt by Woojin’s actions more than once.
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Hyun Woojin wrapped an arm around Haewon’s waist and pulled him close. Their faces were so near their noses almost touched. Haewon quietly took him in.
“…Being called handsome by you just feels weird.”
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“That’s what people usually call this kind of face, right?”
“Maybe I have high standards. Or maybe they’ve gotten higher.”
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His face suddenly felt unfamiliar.
“Is being curious about how far that bastard touched you also jealousy?”
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“It’s jealousy.”
“Did you kiss? Did he touch your chest? Suck on your nipples?”
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“That’s not jealousy—it’s just sleazy.”
The specifics in his questions were exhausting. Haewon frowned.
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“Tell me. I won’t get mad.”
He faked a gentle expression, awkwardly forcing his lips into a smile. He didn’t seem to realize how much scarier that made him. Haewon thought this side of him was so thrilling it sent chills down his spine, like a thriller movie. He couldn’t deny he liked it. He liked how Hyun Woojin’s personality could be overwhelming, all-consuming. He wanted to kiss him right then.
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“I don’t remember.”
“And below? Did he lick you there too?”
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“Not below. That never happened.”
“You said you didn’t remember. Don’t lie.”
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“…I don’t remember.”
Wrapping his arms around Woojin’s shoulder, who was trembling with jealousy, Haewon pressed his lips against Woojin’s, silencing the dirty words. Woojin turned his head away and kept asking.
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“Did he leave that untouched? The spot he’d want to lick first—he just left it?”
“I don’t remember.”
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When Haewon kissed him again, Woojin turned the other way, avoiding Haewon’s lips.
“Move your lips.”
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“Stop it.”
“No way. You lied, so you need to be punished. You deserve it.”
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Haewon stared at him with anticipation. Haewon enjoyed being scolded by Hyun Woojin.
“…How are you going to punish me?”
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“Terribly. So that bastard won’t even cross your memory.”
“Guess I’ll be spending this summer vacation at home, getting punished by Hyun Woojin.”
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When Haewon tilted his head to try to press a kiss to his lips, Hyun Woojin pulled his head back this time.
“Don’t try anything. I’m still mad.”
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“Why are you grumbling like an old man? Just shut your mouth.”
“How old is that bastard?”
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“Probably older than you.”
“…How much older?”
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“Ugh, give it a rest.”
Haewon, now really fed up, grabbed the back of Hyun Woojin’s head and forced their lips together.
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∞ ∞ ∞
The relationship with him was smooth. They spent the summer together. Despite his busy schedule, Haewon managed to coax him into spending a day tanning and playing in the pool at an outdoor hotel pool. Except for the occasional absurdly intense moments from Hyun Woojin, everything went well.
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As late autumn approached, rehearsals began for an overseas concert that had been planned since the previous year. It was a music festival hosted by China’s state-run broadcasting company. Asia’s top orchestras were participating, along with collaborations featuring pop singers, opera singers, and Chinese pianists and violinists.
The conductor, who had been working domestically throughout the summer, returned to the country only to catch a cold in the chilly Seoul weather following the rain. He handed over his symphony notes to the concertmaster and left early.
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Without a full orchestral rehearsal, they decided to practice by sections. The rehearsal kept getting interrupted because one of the second violinists kept making mistakes.
“Moon Haewon, please help Seyun practice.”
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“Me? Why me?”
Why? Haewon silently asked the concertmaster with his eyes. That was a job for the first chair or vice-chair, not someone like him, who was barely above an assistant in the second violin section. Though he was older, her seniority in the orchestra exceeded his.
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“I’m asking because your performance has been outstanding.”
“Seriously, what’s been going on with you lately? Got some secret to improving suddenly or a reason for working so hard? You’re like a different person.”
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The second violin’s vice-chair passed the task onto him with a smirk, boosting Haewon as he did. The woman, now stuck in the humiliating position of being taught by a fellow section member, looked uncomfortable.
“I’m only working this hard because I want to finish quickly and go home,” Haewon said coldly, refusing to go easy on her. He packed up his sheet music. Those who wanted to continue practicing could stay, while those who were done were free to leave.
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“Grinding through it just to go home faster? That’s an excellent motto.”
“I can go now, right?”
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“Don’t be like that. Just show her quickly. Once Seyun sees how it’s done, she’ll catch on fast.”
With that, the vice-chair ordered Haewon and left. Sighing, Haewon reopened his sheet music on the stand.
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“Where exactly are you struggling?”
He asked her. Hyun Woojin had once recounted how she fumbled during a regular concert, awkwardly flipping two pages at once, glaring at him the whole time. The woman, now hesitant, flipped her sheet music and pointed at the tricky passages with her bow tip. Haewon adjusted the tension on his bow and raised his violin to his shoulder.
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“I’m in a hurry, so I’ll show you just once.”
When he said he’d demonstrate only once, she promptly pulled out her phone to record. Haewon frowned, and she quickly explained.
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“I’ll make sure your face isn’t in it. I’ll only film the violin and the bowing.”
Her eagerness to try something, at least, was admirable. Letting her do as she pleased, Haewon focused on demonstrating the bowing.
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Though he intended to show her just once, he ended up supervising her practice, listing her technical shortcomings. Instead of appreciating his effort, she coldly snatched up her music and declared she’d ask the first violin’s concertmaster for help.
Being deliberately curt had been the right move. Haewon packed up his violin and left the practice room. These days, rehearsals ended late, so even when he rushed out, it was usually past eight by the time he got back to his studio apartment. Being busy was a blessing in disguise.
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Hyun Woojin had also been busy lately. They hadn’t spoken in days. Haewon suppressed the urge to call him ten times. On the eleventh impulse, he gave in and made the call, only for it to ring unanswered. He ended the call, staring at the phone.
After showering, he made a simple dinner. Thanks to Hyun Woojin, he’d learned to make fried rice.
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After dinner, he watched a movie for the first time in a while. The best thing about his studio apartment was its booming audio system and the ability to crank the volume to its limit. While munching on snacks and watching a war movie, the pounding of artillery and ear-splitting gunfire gave way to the sudden and perfectly timed banging on his apartment door.
Haewon paused the movie with the remote and approached the front door. He peered through the peephole. No one should be visiting him at this hour. Hyun Woojin, who came and went as he pleased, knew the door lock code. Even when Haewon whimsically changed the code, Woojin somehow always figured it out and entered.
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Outside stood a man Haewon didn’t recognize. He stared at the man’s vaguely familiar face, trying to place him. The man banged on the door again, harder this time. Haewon picked up the intercom receiver.
“Who is it?”
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― Ah, you’re inside, so why did it take so long?
The man let out a weary sigh and adjusted the figure slumped over his shoulder. On the intercom screen, Haewon saw the man holding up none other than Hyun Woojin, whose arm was draped across his shoulder.
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Haewon quickly opened the door. Now he remembered—the man had shown up with a shirt and car when Woojin had intentionally caused a fender bender. Supporting a drunken and staggering Woojin, the man himself swayed under the weight.
“Sorry for the late hour. Sunbae insisted on coming here. May I come in?”
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“Oh, yes. Please come in.”
The man stepped inside and set Woojin down in the entryway. He sank to the floor with a thud, utterly intoxicated.
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“I’ll be off, then. Sorry for the intrusion. Sunbae, I’m leaving now.”
“Mm, yeah.”
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Without lifting his head, Woojin waved him off. The man, having delivered his charge, departed with a lightened load. Haewon stood in the doorway, gazing down at Woojin, who was slouched on the floor. It was the first time he’d seen him drunk.
“How much did you drink?”
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“Just a little soju bombs.”
“You didn’t answer my calls. You were out drinking?”
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“When the deputy chief prosecutor offers you a drink, how can you refuse?”
Apparently, drinking soju bombs was just another extension of work for him. Woojin exhaled a long sigh. Haewon removed his shoes, grabbed him by the side, and hoisted him up. Moving the completely drunk man to the bed was a struggle. It took all of Haewon’s strength to drag him there, leaving him sweating from the brief but exhausting effort.
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“Hoo…”
Woojin tried brushing his messy hair back and sitting up, but he gave up and flopped back down. Instead of returning to his own apartment, he’d come to Haewon’s place. That was slightly endearing. Perhaps in his drunken state, his instinct had brought him to the person he most wanted to see. Haewon wondered if he came here because he thought of him when he was drunk. He looked down at Woojin, whose faculties seemed dulled by alcohol.
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“I’m going to China next week.”
“Hm…? What?”
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“I’m going to China for a performance.”
“Ah…”
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Woojin furrowed his brows as if trying to resist the sleep overtaking him. Haewon removed his jacket, socks, pants, and shirt, leaving him in just his underwear. He adjusted him so that his head rested properly on the pillow.
“Do you want something to drink? Are you thirsty?”
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“Anything.”
Haewon fetched an electrolyte drink from the fridge, opened it, and handed it to him. Woojin, however, was too unsteady to hold it. Haewon supported his shoulder, bringing the bottle to his lips. The liquid moistened his parched tongue, and Woojin, slightly revived, took the bottle and drank deeply. Some of the drink spilled onto his chin and cheek, which Haewon wiped away with a tissue.
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He laid him back down, covering him with the blanket. Sitting by the bed, Haewon looked down at Woojin. He brushed back his tousled hair and touched his cheek. His thumb pressed against Woojin’s soft lips, which moved slightly to one side under the pressure. Woojin faintly opened his eyes, looking up at him.
“Haewon.”
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“…Yeah.”
“Wake me up at six.”
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“I wake up at eight. How am I supposed to wake you at six? Get up on your own.”
“Six… o’clock.”
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Haewon bent down, placing his lips on Woojin’s forehead. He couldn’t resist the urge to kiss him, to nibble at him. He kissed his forehead, cheeks, and even his lips, which reeked of alcohol. Woojin wasn’t quite asleep, but he wasn’t fully conscious either. His breathing came out in shallow gasps. Haewon asked him, almost to himself.
“Who am I?”
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“…Moon Haewon.”
“Do you like me?”
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“…”
“Do you like me? I asked if you like me.”
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“…Yes.”
It didn’t seem like he was hesitating or thinking about his answer, but rather that it was taking a long time for the question to register in his brain.
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“Have you ever liked anyone else besides me?”
“…No.”
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Even with his brain melted from alcohol, he was lying. Haewon grabbed Hyun Woojin’s cheek, lifting his drooping head, just as Woojin often did to him. Woojin struggled to lift his heavy eyelids, meeting Haewon’s gaze. There was a shadow over his deepened eyes.
“Why are you lying?”
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“I don’t know. Haah…”
Letting out a deep sigh, Woojin swatted Haewon’s hand away, as if it was bothersome.
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Now was the chance. In his drunken state, this was the perfect moment to interrogate him and uncover the truth about his inner feelings, the ones mourning his late fiancée. He wouldn’t remember what was said, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have the nerve to confront Haewon about it. Haewon cowardly set up his escape and asked,
“Is that why you live like this?”
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“…”
Woojin frowned as if he had heard some unpleasant noise in response to the direct and simplified question.
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“Do you solve your misery by pitying yourself? By sleeping with anyone you find? Bringing them to hotels, and then coming here to sleep with me? Is that how you live, just fulfilling your desires?”
“…What are you talking about?”
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“Because you’re tortured over your dead fiancée?”
“…”
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He stared at Haewon through narrowed, unfocused eyes, as if he was hearing incomprehensible nonsense. There was nothing to be found in Woojin’s eyes—no longing, no memories, no inner turmoil. Seemingly tired of even looking, Woojin soon closed his eyes.
“I’m thirsty.”
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The hoarse voice broke the silence. Haewon brought a bottle of water and, as before, cradled Woojin’s shoulder to help him drink. Tipping the bottle to Woojin’s lips, he watched the slow movement of his throat as he swallowed. After drinking about half the bottle, Woojin flopped back onto the pillow.
“Do you think I’ll see you as some tragic man with a heartbreaking story just because of that?”
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“Shut up.”
Woojin muttered, seemingly in his sleep. He shifted sideways, fumbling until his hand found Haewon’s thigh. His hand crawled upward until it clasped Haewon’s hand, bringing it to his cheek. There, with Haewon’s palm pressed to his face, he fell asleep.
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Since Woojin said he needed to wake up at six, Haewon set an alarm for six in the morning. Curled up beside him, Haewon ended up dozing off while gazing at Woojin’s face.
In the early dawn, Haewon faintly heard the alarm go off, followed by Woojin getting up to shower and leave. Before heading out, Woojin lightly pressed his lips to Haewon’s cheek and murmured something. It wasn’t clear whether it was “Thanks for letting me sleep” or “Thanks for waking me up,” but it ended with gratitude.
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Half-asleep, Haewon nodded, smiling faintly at the comforting touch on the back of his head, before drifting back to unconsciousness.
∞ ∞ ∞
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With a printed schedule and notifications for his overseas trip in hand, Haewon ascended the concert hall stairs. Pulling his ringing phone from his pocket, his face lit up automatically when he saw Hyun Woojin’s name.
“Yeah, Woojin hyung.”
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“Did you have lunch?”
“I ate and now I’m heading up to the practice room. What about you?”
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“I had lunch with the director.”
“Must’ve been tasteless.”
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Though they didn’t often talk about work, Haewon knew from these brief exchanges that Woojin didn’t particularly like his boss. He also knew Woojin usually stayed around the legal district for meals, eating simple dishes like galbitang, kalguksu, or kimchi stew for lunch, and preferred light dinners since he disliked socializing.
He had learned quite a bit about Woojin beyond that, too: there were rankings among prosecutors based on case statistics, and Woojin’s performance was remarkably high. This made it difficult for his superior to treat him poorly. Woojin’s office manager and investigators were also known to be very competent.
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The subordinate who had driven Woojin to Haewon’s place while drunk, and fetched a shirt and car for him, was a junior prosecutor fiercely loyal to Woojin. Woojin’s parents were doctors.
He drinks bomb shots when he has alcohol, moved from the Criminal Affairs Division to the Special Investigation Division about three years ago, and the Special Investigation Division handles large-scale cases and high-profile individuals. His immediate goal is to earn a “star,” which refers to becoming a chief prosecutor.
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His goals are not unrealistic dreams but rather concrete and pragmatic ones.
Haewon learned a few days ago that, since he often has to pull all-nighters, Woojin maintains his stamina by exercising for an hour a day, usually after work and before dinner.
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One time, when Woojin answered the phone while panting heavily, Haewon sharply snapped, “Don’t pick up when you’re messing around with someone else, you bastard,” only for Woojin to burst out laughing and explain he was on the treadmill.
The more Haewon got to know about Woojin, the more he felt a foolish sense of superiority. He knew more about Woojin than the late fiancée still lingering in his heart and envisioned a slightly longer future with him.
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“Will you come by tonight?”
“Not tonight.”
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“I did a bunch of grocery shopping this morning because I thought you’d come, you bastard.”
Unable to hide his disappointment, Haewon’s frustration slipped out in the form of a curse.
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“You stock up groceries but make me cook anyway. Why are you whining? I’ll come tomorrow.”
If Woojin could interpret the cursing as whining, he wasn’t entirely sober either.
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“Why not? At least come for dinner.”
“I’m on duty.”
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“You said you were on duty last time too. Is it normal to be on duty this often?”
“I’m covering for someone.”
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“Are you a pushover?”
Woojin chuckled.
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“For a senior, juniors are always pushovers.”
“Then Jung Prosecutor must be your pushover too.”
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Jung Prosecutor was one of Woojin’s juniors who followed his every order—whether to roll, stand, or even play dead.
“That’s right. Jung is my pushover, and I’m someone else’s pushover.”
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“Can’t you come after your duty ends?”
Haewon stopped mid-step on the landing, leaned his forehead against the wall, and said, “It’s been days since I last saw you. I want to see you, touch you, and feel your scent and warmth.”
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“Haewon.”
“Yeah…”
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“I can’t focus on work because of you. Cut me some slack.”
Woojin’s voice was rugged and sincere, rough like the timbre of a Guarneri violin. Haewon felt intoxicated by it.
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“No. Why should I? Quit being a prosecutor. Let’s just hang out together.”
“Call me before bed. We’ll talk then.”
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“…Fine.”
Haewon gave in, reluctantly accepting Woojin’s suggestion since he loved the sound of Woojin’s voice over the phone. They promised to talk later in the evening and ended the call.
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There were other things Haewon knew about him. Despite constantly declaring his affection during their intimate moments, Woojin had never once said anything like “I like you.” Whether it was because he couldn’t say such things or because he didn’t feel that way remained a mystery.
It was all so baffling yet understandable, clear yet elusive. To Haewon, Woojin was an enigma, a fascinating and endlessly intriguing presence.
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Turning back after bumping his forehead against the wall, Haewon was startled. Clutching his chest, he tried to steady his racing heart.
“Oh, you scared me.”
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Standing on the landing were Seo Okhwa and the concertmaster, both looking at him. Haewon gave a polite bow to the concertmaster and then to Seo Okhwa.
“Who was that? Who were you talking to?”
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Seo Okhwa, dressed in a dazzlingly white pantsuit, widened her eyes as she asked.
“Who else could I have been talking to?”
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“A lover? Your girlfriend?”
“And what are you doing here, ma’am?”
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When Haewon referred to her as “ma’am,” the concertmaster flinched. Seo Okhwa, unfazed, hooked her arm through Haewon’s and started leading him down the stairs in the direction she had been headed.
“I came to discuss the orchestra’s upcoming trip to China.”
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“And why are you involved? Planning to meddle in everything now?”
“To arrange a private jet.”
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She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, “This is who I am.” It wasn’t surprising in the least.
“Can’t I just not go to China?”
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Haewon stopped midway down the stairs and asked Seo Okhwa, as well as the concertmaster standing behind her.
“Why?”
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Seo Okhwa asked, tugging at his arm to keep descending. Haewon trudged down the stairs with her.
“Even if one person skips, it won’t make a difference. Can’t I just not go? Do I really have to?”
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“Why not? It’ll be a good change of pace. We’re flying on a private jet.”
“I really don’t want to go.”
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“Is it because of the lover you were talking to earlier? Afraid you won’t see them?”
Seo Okhwa asked with a knowing, teasing smile. Since that was the truth, Haewon nodded. Seo Okhwa pinched his cheek as if she couldn’t resist how cute he was. When he recoiled in annoyance, she cleared her throat and shot a glance at the concertmaster.
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“You’re at that sweet stage of romance. Who is it? What does he do?”
“He’s a prosecutor.”
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“A prosecutor?”
She stopped in her tracks. Haewon realized his slip. Her late daughter had dated a prosecutor—this prosecutor, in fact. The man he was seeing now was her daughter’s former fiancé. Both were prosecutors, and uncomfortably, they were the same person. After a brief silence, during which she seemed deep in thought, Seo Okhwa asked brightly again.
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“Did Woojin introduce you?”
“No, a friend… a friend introduced us.”
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Taeshin had practically brought him to Haewon. It was because of Taeshin that Haewon met Hyun Woojin. Haewon had come to love the man Taeshin once had feelings for. If Taeshin had seen how much Haewon had tried to avoid this situation, he might have understood that it was beyond Haewon’s control.
“What a shame. I have a daughter, you know, and she’s not much younger than you.”
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“A daughter?”
Haewon recalled how she had once cried her heart out, thinking of her deceased daughter after something he had said. Seeing Haewon’s thoughts, she spoke.
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“Hayoung has a younger sister. My second daughter.”
“Oh, I see.”
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Feeling as if he was constantly stirring up her painful memories, Haewon opted to stay silent. Just then, as if struck by inspiration, Seo Okhwa clapped her hands.
“Come over for dinner tonight. To my house.”
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“No, thanks.”
“Don’t be like that. Woojin said he’d come too. How nice would it be to have dinner together?”
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“…Prosecutor Hyun Woojin?”
He had told Haewon he was on duty tonight. He had said he was covering for a senior’s shift and couldn’t come over, promising instead to talk on the phone before bed. He had sweetly soothed Haewon’s whining and pleading to see him.
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“Yes, Prosecutor Hyun. Woojin said he’s your school senior, right? We have dinner together sometimes, and today he’s free, so we planned it for tonight.”
If it was just dinner, why hadn’t he said so directly? It wasn’t as though Haewon would trap him or stop him from going. The fact that Woojin had lied was strange. Whatever the reason, Haewon wanted to mess with him for lying.
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“Am I even welcome at this dinner? Or are you just trying to embarrass me again, like last time? In front of everyone.”
“Hey, I’m cool. I’ve already forgotten about that. Besides, you embarrassed me too, remember?”
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As if scolding him playfully, she pretended to smack him on the head.
“I’ll send a car to pick you up. Rehearsal ends on time today, right?”
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She asked the concertmaster, who replied courteously that it would.
“It’d be even better if you played the violin when you come. My husband loves the violin. Imagine having dinner and wine while listening to a performance—that would be pure magic.”
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Her face lit up with an expression of what true happiness might look like.
“I’ll decide when I get there.”
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“Fine, no pressure. Do as you please. See you at dinner then?”
Haewon nodded. Seo Okhwa waved and exited the lobby with the assistant he had seen recently. Watching her back as she left, Haewon turned and met eyes with the concertmaster, who had followed him suspiciously.
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“Haewon, how do you know Director Seo?”
“We’re not close or anything. But do I really have to go to China?”
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“Wait, so you know Director Seo Okhwa?”
“Know… well, yes, I do, but not well enough to say we’re close. That’s not the point—do I really have to go to China? I don’t feel well. Can’t I skip it?”
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“You know who Director Seo Okhwa is, right? She’s the wife of the chairman of Hanyeong Group. Did you see how that dignified chairman’s wife looked at you with honey dripping from her eyes? Don’t tell me it’s… that kind of relationship?”
Ignoring Haewon’s response, the concertmaster got excited on his own, stumbling over his words and shaking his head.
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“…I have a boyfriend, you know. And am I crazy? With someone like her?”
“Then what’s your relationship?”
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“Ugh, seriously. We’re just acquaintances.”
Brushing off the concertmaster’s ridiculous assumptions, Haewon turned away first.
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He arrived at Seo Okhwa’s house in a car driven by her assistant. The mansion in the heart of Seoul overlooked the Han River and had three robust security guards managing the entrance.
The overwhelming scent of wealth filled the air, but Haewon was too preoccupied with why Hyun Woojin had lied to let it sink in.
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Was it to avoid being interrogated?
Haewon searched his memory to see if he had ever pestered Woojin. Whenever Woojin said he had plans, Haewon had simply accepted it without prying about who, where, or why.
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“We’ve arrived.”
The assistant was already holding the door open. Haewon stepped out of the car, slinging the violin over his shoulder. Declining the offer to carry it, he followed the assistant. As they passed through the garden and entered the house, a neatly dressed woman greeted him.
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“Welcome. Madam has informed me. This way, please.”
She seemed more like a house manager than a maid. She gestured to take the violin, but Haewon declined again.
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Walking down the hallway toward the living room felt like a workout in itself.
The interior, reflecting Seo Okhwa’s taste, was an overwhelming floral display. Flower decorations, floral patterns, and even fresh flowers adorned every nook and cranny, making the living room feel more like a flower shop or botanical garden.
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“There are so many flowers.”
Haewon murmured as he followed the staff. She smiled faintly and agreed.
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Well, someone has to buy flowers to keep the floral industry alive. Lost in such trivial thoughts, Haewon finally reached the living room. Seo Okhwa and Kim Jeonggeun, the chairman, were seated, having tea.
Chairman Kim was reading a newspaper with his glasses perched on his nose, while Seo Okhwa listened to classical music, eyes closed and head swaying to the melody. It was Rachmaninoff’s piano concerto. If her eldest daughter hadn’t met such a fate, this could have been a picture-perfect family. They might even have gained a son-in-law like Hyun Woojin.
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Haewon had come intending to mess with Woojin for lying, but he was beginning to regret coming.
The desire to teach Woojin a lesson was a shallow excuse. In truth, he was curious and wanted to see Woojin. He wanted to glimpse the family and traces of the woman Woojin had promised to marry and take responsibility for until the end.
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“Madam, Moon Haewon is here.”
“Oh? You’re here? Sit here.”
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Seo Okhwa’s eyes lit up as she motioned for Haewon to sit beside her. Chairman Kim raised his head to look at him.
“Welcome.”
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“Hello.”
“So, you made up with my wife, huh? Good. The last person you want to make an enemy of on this planet is my wife. Remember that.”
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“Why do you always have to say things like that?”
Seo Okhwa raised her hand as if to hit her husband’s arm in response to his teasing but stopped when she noticed Haewon watching. She laughed unnaturally, adjusting her behavior.
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“When Prosecutor Hyun and Soyoung arrive, we’ll start dinner. Please prepare.”
She instructed the staff.
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Haewon couldn’t help but anticipate Woojin’s reaction when he walked through the floral maze and saw him. More than wondering why Woojin had lied, Haewon was curious and excited to see how Woojin would respond. It was enough to make him nervous.
Hyun Woojin had no idea he was playing right into Haewon’s hands. He couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams that a careless word on his part had led to Seo Okhwa and Haewon not just becoming friendly but developing a deeper connection of mutual understanding.
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It was his mistake to bring Haewon to the event, promising to introduce him to Henry Chang. Haewon was determined to use this opportunity to fix Hyun Woojin’s bad habit of lying for good.
“I’m here.”
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“Soyoung’s here? Soyoung, come over. I have someone to introduce you to.”
The second daughter of the Hanggyeong Group, now their only daughter after her older sister’s passing, had arrived. Haewon rose from the sofa, only to freeze in place.
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“…”
“Haewon, Haewon?”
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Seo Okhwa slapped Haewon lightly on the arm, snapping him out of his daze. Haewon shook his head and turned to look at the woman standing before him.
If he wasn’t mistaken, she was the woman he’d seen next to Hyun Woojin on the day they first met at the hotel. She had been sitting next to Woojin with her legs crossed, her sleek calves glistening under the light. Her toenails sported an elaborate pedicure that sparkled, her short skirt revealing perfectly groomed legs, and her slender ankles were adorned with strap sandals. The satin-red pedicure on her toes had been incredibly striking.
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Haewon had exchanged glances with her several times, even as she clung to Hyun Woojin’s arm, whispering things Haewon couldn’t remember. In the elevator that day, as they went up to the 40th floor, they’d locked eyes multiple times. He was certain she was the same woman.
What was she doing here?
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Why was this woman here?
She didn’t seem to recognize Haewon. Unlike the sensual outfit and bold presence she’d had back then, today, she looked fresh and innocent in her modest attire and hairstyle. But there was no doubt in Haewon’s mind—she was the same woman.
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Haewon gathered himself and spoke. “Ah, hello. I’m Moon Haewon.”
“Hello, I’m Kim Soyoung. Who is he?”
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Kim Soyoung greeted him politely, then turned to Seo Okhwa with a question.
“He’s a violinist in our orchestra. Also a junior from Hyun Geom’s school.”
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“Ah, I see. Nice to meet you. I’ll go change.”
She seemed to have no recollection of Haewon, giving a brief and indifferent greeting before leaving. Although it had been over a year, the memory of that day was vivid for Haewon. While he didn’t have a great memory for people, the striking image of her with Hyun Woojin had been etched into his mind.
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Details like her strap sandals, the satin-red pedicure, and her gleaming calves were fresh in his memory. He even remembered how she’d addressed Woojin: Woojin-ssi.
Haewon wanted to convince himself it was just a coincidence or a case of mistaken identity, but she was unmistakably the same person. His heart raced, not out of excitement but because the sheer absurdity of the situation overwhelmed him. Was his heart pounding from disbelief or because his brain was struggling to process the implausibility of it all? Either way, his chest felt tight.
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Hyun Woojin, are you insane? Have you lost your mind?
A chilling clarity spread through Haewon’s thoughts.
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This lunatic…
He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, swallowing it along with his frustration.
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The Hyun Woojin Haewon thought he knew was not the real Hyun Woojin. Haewon had been utterly mistaken about him.
“Our daughter is beautiful, isn’t she? She’s in graduate school, preparing her doctoral thesis.”
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“Yes, she’s beautiful. She takes after you.”
Haewon smiled faintly, though his lips twitched imperceptibly. He was barely holding himself together, waiting for Hyun Woojin to appear. He wanted nothing more than for that man to walk through the flower-adorned hall and stand before him.
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When Kim Soyoung returned, now dressed casually, she noticed Haewon staring at her intently and looked awkwardly away. She clearly didn’t remember their prior encounter.
Finally, the person Haewon had been anxiously awaiting appeared. Hyun Woojin entered, his usual polite greeting on his lips.
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“I’m here.”
“Oh, Hyun Geom, welcome.”
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“Oppa, you’re here?”
At that moment, she called him oppa so naturally. Yet on that day at the hotel, she had clearly addressed him as Woojin-ssi.
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Hyun Woojin rounded the corner and stopped abruptly when his eyes met Haewon’s. For a moment, he faltered as if startled, but he quickly regained his composure and continued walking as though nothing had happened.
Hyun Woojin sat next to Kim Soyoung. Haewon swallowed the metallic taste of blood mixed with saliva and bowed his head to him.
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“Hello, Sunbae.”
Haewon slowly raised his head and stared intently into the eyes of Hyun Woojin, who seemed to have completely lost his mind.
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“What’s going on?”
“The lady invited me for dinner,” Haewon replied to his question. Seo Okhwa chimed in.
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“I ran into him at the orchestra today while discussing the private jet arrangements. Since he’s your junior, I thought it’d be nice to invite him for dinner. That’s fine, right?”
“Oh, I see. Good decision,” he nodded approvingly at Seo Okhwa. His gaze toward Haewon was rigid and stiff.
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They didn’t seem to know that Haewon had seen them at the hotel. Hyun Woojin only remembered the swimming pool, unaware that Haewon had been seated behind them in the executive lounge that day—or that they had shared an elevator ride up to the 40th floor.
Facing him, Haewon felt a surge of emotions that he had barely managed to suppress until now. His fingertips grew cold. He bit hard into the inside of his cheek, the taste of blood intensifying.
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That son of a bitch…
An uncontainable rage boiled within him.
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“Dinner is ready. Please come to the dining room,” an employee announced.
They moved to the dining room.
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The two who had acted like lovers at the hotel now behaved as if they were mere acquaintances who occasionally kept in touch. Outside, they were “so-and-so,” but here, they reverted to being just oppa and dongsaeng.
Of course, that made sense.
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Hyun Woojin was Kim Soyoung’s sister’s fiancé. They were destined to become brother-in-law and sister-in-law, and that’s how they appeared now. Whether it was because Hyun Woojin was insane, or Kim Soyoung was, or both of them were, one thing was clear—they weren’t in a normal relationship.
Haewon took a seat as directed by the employee. The table was set with Korean food.
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“Korean food is fine, right? My husband always craves Korean food after returning from a business trip.”
“Yes, I like it.”
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“Eat plenty, Haewon.”
“Thank you.”
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Seo Okhwa, who seemed to see her deceased daughter reflected in Haewon, expressed genuine affection. Meanwhile, Kim Soyoung, clearly uncomfortable with her mother’s behavior, sat stiffly. Ignoring Hyun Woojin’s consistent gaze, Haewon picked up his utensils.
Through the natural flow of dinner conversation, Haewon learned that Kim Soyoung was a graduate student majoring in business and was preparing her doctoral dissertation while locking horns with her advisor. Her tied-back hair and understated appearance were entirely different from the hotel image, but she remained pure and beautiful.
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By this point, Haewon couldn’t even be sure what kind of person Hyun Woojin really was. He began to doubt if he was even a prosecutor. He thought Hyun Woojin couldn’t forget his deceased fiancée. He believed that the man, unable to settle down after losing the woman he loved, was merely satisfying his physical needs. Haewon assumed he himself had been different, someone beyond a fleeting connection, someone Hyun Woojin actually cared about. And Haewon liked him too. What drove him insane was that he still did.
What consumed him now wasn’t betrayal but disappointment. The Hyun Woojin he thought he knew wouldn’t have done such a thing.
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Haewon couldn’t recall how or when dinner ended or most of the conversations exchanged. He vaguely remembered Seo Okhwa asking if he was feeling unwell, but everything else was a blur.
When Haewon came to his senses, he was already in Hyun Woojin’s car. He vaguely remembered being dragged out of the house, with Hyun Woojin making some excuse about needing to speak to his junior and saying goodbye first.
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“What’s going on?”
“…”
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“Haewon.”
“…What?”
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“I’m asking what’s going on.”
Hyun Woojin asked. Haewon turned his head to look at him as he drove.
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The man looked just like the Hyun Woojin he knew. The face he had gazed at endlessly until dawn. The same man who frequented hotels with the sister of his deceased fiancée. Swallowing dryly, Haewon felt as if his throat had been cut.