WW | Chapter 50

As he buckled his seatbelt and started the car, Yoonjo casually asked, “Does Yoo Jieun still talk bad about me?”

“…”

The question was so natural that Yul momentarily lost her words. It seemed Minjae, the president, had told him Jieun worked here. The fact that Yoonjo could casually bring Jieun into the conversation, just like old times, was baffling. With a reluctant tone, Yul answered.

“She does.”

“What does she say?”

“…”

“Never mind. I can guess. Still got that sharp tongue, huh?”

Yoonjo slipped seamlessly into the dynamics between Yul and Jieun, as effortlessly as water seeping into the ground. The formal speech Yul had requested to keep things professional seemed ineffective in situations like this. Revisiting their shared history—good or bad—was shrinking the distance between them. Silence felt like the safest response.

“I won’t answer personal questions,” she said firmly.

“Did you really sneak into the Hyeyum Art Museum and run away?”

“Who said that?”

Despite her resolve, Yul instinctively blurted out a question. Realizing her slip, she bit her lip and turned to face the window.

She had forgotten how crucial it was to stay sharp when talking to Kang Yoonjo. Though not a man of many words, he sometimes deployed sly conversational tactics that could entangle his listener.

“The director mentioned seeing you a few times. Said he was hurt that you pretended not to notice.”

“…I didn’t want to,” Yul admitted after a pause. She knew it wasn’t mature behavior. They were acquaintances, and the director had helped her before. Passing by his museum on her walks, she could have stopped in to say hello. But she hadn’t wanted to. Seeing the director would inevitably lead to talk of Yoonjo, and she didn’t want that.

“Just curious—are you always like this? Once you let go, you never look back?”

Yoonjo kept his eyes on the narrow, winding streets of Buam-dong, one hand on the wheel. He’d been driving with just one hand since they left, which wasn’t inherently irritating, but something about it grated on Yul’s nerves—probably because it was him.

Yul glanced at his other hand resting on his thigh, then turned her attention elsewhere. As long as he didn’t get into an accident, it wasn’t her concern.

Still, his question felt laced with some lingering resentment from the past, and she frowned as she looked at him.

“Listening to the director complain reminded me of old times, and, well, I couldn’t help feeling annoyed,” he said.

“You hold grudges, don’t you?”

Yul responded dryly but felt a slight pang of guilt. Back in high school, she’d spent Christmas Eve with him, only to move away three days later. She could have left without a word after Christmas, but she hadn’t been able to let go, traveling over an hour to attend school for a while longer. The day before winter break, she’d internally said goodbye to him and walked away, crying a lot afterward. She’d repaid his kindness with feelings of loss and betrayal, and for that, she was truly sorry.

“Do you know what I thought back then?” Yoonjo asked, his tone calm, as though they were discussing the weather.

Yul, unsuspecting, waited for his next words.

“I thought, ‘I’m going to find Seomun Yul.’”

“…”

“Find her, squeeze the life out of her, and drag her down to rock bottom. I wanted to make her the most miserable person in the world.”

“W-why… why would you think that?”

The sudden change in atmosphere sent a chill down Yul’s spine. Yoonjo wasn’t angry as he spoke—he was smiling—and that made it even more unsettling. She had expected him to be furious over her sudden departure, but she hadn’t anticipated such terrifying emotions.

“Why do you think?”

Still smiling, Yoonjo turned his head to look at her. His pure, unassuming expression made his next words even more chilling.

“Because that’s the only way you’d come back to me.”

“…!”

The moment he spoke, Yul felt as though her heart had dropped somewhere deep inside her. She suddenly recalled the rare moments she’d felt afraid of him—the shadow of wild intensity hidden behind his calm and indifferent gaze.

Despite her love and admiration for Yoonjo, she’d been afraid of him at times—not because of his past involvement in a death, but because she knew his family history and understood his personality. Yoonjo hated his father but had inherited his warped possessiveness and obsessive tendencies. Like father, like son, they both needed to have whatever caught their eye by their side, no matter what.

Without realizing it, her teenage self had willingly walked into Yoonjo’s world. And he, fully aware of himself, had tried to warn her.

The truly frightening thing was that he also had the patience to wait. He’d suppressed his emotions, quietly biding his time until he found her again. Realizing this, Yul trembled at the thought of their reunion. Things might be different now, but his unpredictability was still nerve-wracking.

“You’ve already had your big revenge. Let’s just move on and live our lives,” she said firmly, trying to bring the conversation back to reason.

“Don’t worry.”

With a smile, he answered casually and turned on the car’s music.

“I don’t need to anymore.”

As soon as he said it, the Rolling Stones’ music filled the car—the same songs they used to play in their old studio. Yul turned her head away, biting her lip.

The site turned out to be in a much better environment than she had expected. Surrounded by mountains but safe from landslides, the terrain wasn’t as steep as she’d feared. To the right of the site, the mountain sloped down, showcasing lush greenery and vibrant spring blossoms. Most notably, the sound of birdsong created a serene atmosphere.

Taking several photos with her tablet, Yul checked them and spoke. “The surrounding environment is beautiful. What if we leave this side open without a wall and integrate the mountain into the property, like a natural garden?”

“That won’t do. I value privacy,” Yoonjo replied bluntly.

“But it’s a cliff—people can’t climb it.”

“You think people can’t climb a cliff this size? What if some creep tries to peek from above?”

“Well… okay. I understand.”

Although it wasn’t a hiking trail, and it seemed unlikely that anyone would push through the dense foliage to climb up there, she had to drop the idea since the client opposed it. Yoonjo had always been unusually concerned with safety, likely due to experiences from his youth. Even in school, he’d stubbornly insisted on escorting her to and from places for this very reason. Double or even triple security measures weren’t a bad idea in any case. Perhaps adding perforations to the top of the wall to allow glimpses of the mountain would satisfy both of their desires.

“I found some data suggesting the road has a slope of about 28 degrees. Normally, with anything over 40 degrees, the driveway would go to the north side with the garage there. But it seems feasible to place the exit closer to the adjacent road.”

“No. That would mean climbing stairs to reach the garden. When I’m old, my knees will hurt. If it snows, my kids could slip and get hurt. Let’s do as you suggested—one exit to the adjacent road and another up top, for the main entrance and parking.”

“Ah… understood.”

Yul was taken aback by his response. While it was good for a client to have input, his reasoning—focused on family and aging—felt unfamiliar. Maybe it was because her understanding of Kang Yoonjo had ended in his mid-20s, or because she couldn’t picture him as a father or an elderly man.

Not that it mattered to her. A meticulous client with a clear vision made things easier for the architect. Two separate entrances would increase design and construction costs, benefiting the company. Regaining her focus, Yul asked, “Do you have a general idea of the type of house you want?”

“A sturdy house that doesn’t go out of style. I’d like something classic but not old-fashioned, with a mix of modernity and rustic elements. Like blending Richard Meier’s style with something from Tuscany.”

“Ah.”

His answer was more detailed than she’d expected. Opening her tablet, Yul jotted down notes. Recording his preferences now would help streamline the design process and ensure no details were overlooked during meetings.

“I want a gabled roof, walls made of stone and concrete—or maybe rustic bricks. These days, people put full glass walls on all sides, but I don’t like that. I prefer being able to see out and feel secure while keeping the interior cozy.”

“…”

Yul paused, her pen still, as she looked at Yoonjo. His words felt oddly familiar, and then it hit her—she remembered.

Yoonjo continued, seemingly unaware of her reaction. “I want the space inside the walls to feel like an entirely different world. A paradise to return to and truly relax.”

“This…”

Hugging her tablet to her chest, Yul stopped writing and glared at him. Though they hadn’t yet discussed the number of rooms or internal layout, she could already picture the house. And now she understood why.

Of course, she thought bitterly. This wasn’t the house Yoonjo wanted.

“This is my house.”

It was the design Yul had created during her freshman year of college.