BS 2

Deep wrinkles formed on his neatly furrowed brow, even with his eyes tightly shut. His submerged consciousness slowly resurfaced.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the security gate at the villa entrance, its safety bar disengaged. Staring blankly at the now-lowered barrier, he asked,

“Why aren’t we going in?”

“Well, sir…”

Annoyed by the lack of movement into the parking lot, Jeongun shot an irritated glance at Minho. The driver, however, shifted his gaze toward the right-side window instead.

That was when Jeongun realized something was off.

Sehoon, his secretary, who should have been in the front passenger seat, was nowhere to be seen. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, he turned to look outside just as Minho pressed a button to lower the car window.

To his surprise, there stood Sehoon.

“Secretary Son, what exactly are you doing over there…?”

Sehoon, looking somewhat anxious, quietly stepped aside.

And then, a figure that had been hidden behind him came into view.

“It’s been a while.”

At the calm greeting, Jeongun swallowed dryly.

Her gaze, which had been cast downward, slowly climbed upward. Like a dulled blade, her expression was void of emotion. Her unfocused eyes traced the line of his exposed throat, skimming past his Adam’s apple before landing at the base of his ear. When their eyes finally met, there was no light in hers—only a quiet emptiness.

Jeongun’s gaze instinctively moved in reverse, traveling from her hollow pupils, down the delicate bridge of her nose, and finally resting on her lips. They barely parted, trembling ever so slightly, as if about to form words.

“Yoo Hyejun.”

It had been about a month since the funeral. Not once had he imagined meeting her again—not even in his dreams. That was supposed to be their first and final encounter. It had to be.

A new voice cut through the tension between them.

“Sir, this young lady has been waiting here for the past three hours.”

It was one of the security guards, cautiously reading the atmosphere. His voice quivered slightly as he observed Jeongun’s stiffened expression.

“I offered to call you, but she insisted I not. She said she would just wait… so I let her.”

He ignored the security guard’s excuse, instead staring directly at Hyejun’s vacant expression as she gazed into the air. A pure and simple question arose in his mind.

Did we really have anything left to say to each other?

No, that couldn’t be.

Just as he reaffirmed his certainty, something strange entered his sight.

That bag… What the hell is that?

His gaze locked onto the large Boston bag gripped tightly in both of Hyejun’s hands.

“She said she’s your younger sister…?”

“Sister?”

The word was so absurd he almost doubted his own hearing. But unlike his dumbfounded reaction, Hyejun stood there, expressionless, as if completely unaffected.

Had his ears stopped working? Was he hallucinating? A smirk, sharp with amusement, twisted one corner of his lips.

“Oh… is that not the case? She’s not your sister?”

As if to ensure he hadn’t misheard, the security guard kindly drove the nail in deeper.

“Ha.”

A scoff, half-laugh, half-sigh, escaped his lips.

Sister? What the fuck? Wasn’t that a term reserved for blood relatives? Even that bastard Cha Jinwook was only called his brother because they shared Cha Hwejang’s blood.

And now what? Did this guy seriously think there was even a 1% chance that he and Hyejun could be considered siblings?

Sehoon, who had been silently observing his growing irritation, finally stepped in to smooth things over.

“Director, perhaps we should have Ms. Yoo Hyejun get in the car first?”

Meeting Jeongun’s displeased gaze head-on, Sehoon subtly gestured behind them with his chin.

“There are cars waiting behind us, and it might be best if you discuss things privately.”

The unexpected appearance of Hyejun had thrown him off so completely that he hadn’t even registered the line of vehicles waiting behind them.

It wasn’t an appealing suggestion, but there weren’t many other options.

“Get her in.”

As Sehoon quickly opened the rear door, Hyejun hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this without calling first. I must’ve startled you.”

Was the wind picking up again? A faint citrus scent drifted toward him, brushing against his nose. It was the same subtle fragrance he’d noticed at the funeral—Hyejun’s scent, lingering in the air like a whisper.

For a brief moment, it felt as though that delicate trace of her was tickling something deep inside his chest.

But no—there was no way.

The very thought irritated him, and he bit down a quiet curse under his breath.

 

* * *

 

“What’s going on?”

Inside the car, now devoid of Minho and Sehoon, Jeongun finally spoke.

Silence was the only response. He decided there was no need to entertain this any further.

“I’ll call you a taxi. Just take it and go.”

He was exhausted. More than anything, they weren’t close enough for him to personally drop her off at the terminal. He pulled out his phone to order a taxi, but then—

“I have nowhere to go.”

His fingers, poised over the screen, came to an abrupt halt.

“I know this sounds ridiculous. But I didn’t have a choice. I had to go somewhere, and this was the only place I could think of. I mean it.”

It was a completely different kind of shock from the one she had given him twenty minutes ago, when she had greeted him in that dry, brittle voice, as if she might crumble at any moment. His gaze shifted slightly, landing on the side of her face as she stared straight ahead.

Had their relationship ever been deep enough that having nowhere else to go would lead her to him?

No matter how he thought about it, there was only one answer.

Maybe she came just to personally teach him that when a person is utterly dumbfounded, they don’t even have the strength to laugh in disbelief.

“How did you even find this place?”

The question that should have been asked first finally pushed its way out.

“On the last day of the funeral, I asked Secretary Son. I thought there might be something of my mother’s among her belongings that I needed to return to you.”

Her eyes, seemingly innocent yet holding something unreadable, rolled slightly.

Could he really trust those pure, untainted eyes?

And even if he could—what did any of it have to do with him?

He wanted to tell her to leave right this instant. But something held him back.

Even though it was spring, the night air was still cold. Her lips were tinged blue from the hours she had spent outside, her shoulders trembling slightly. She curled in on herself, as if even within the enclosed space, she still felt the chill.

Perhaps that was why he hesitated.

Or maybe it was because of Seonju, whom he had thought of earlier at the main house.

Or… was it something else? A lingering regret that didn’t quite fit, an emotion unbefitting of someone who had spent his whole life resenting the dead?

Either way, letting her stay for a night didn’t seem like the worst idea.

“Come with me.”

Stepping out of the car first, Jeongun opened the trunk and pulled out Hyejun’s worn-out bag.

 

* * *

Jeongun set a cup of coffee down in front of Hyejun. She had been sitting stiffly on the sofa, lost in her own thoughts, and only came back to herself when she noticed his hand withdrawing from the cup.

“Thank you.”

Hyejun spread her pale, slender fingers wide and wrapped them around the cup. Under the bright lights, her fair skin looked even more translucent. Her soft, downy face still had a youthful look, her complexion clear. It was a stark contrast to a month ago, when she had kept her head bowed the entire time in mourning black.

Time had passed quietly—slowly, or perhaps forcefully.

At last, after finishing the steaming cup of coffee, Hyejun swallowed dryly. Her gaze, which had been fixed on the cup, slowly lifted.

“I…”

The sorrow that had once weighed down her eyes was now replaced by an uncertain resolve.

What was she about to say after such deep contemplation?

He was curious, but at the same time, he wondered what difference it would make even if he knew. He didn’t want to be entangled in anything resembling a relationship. More than that, to him, Yoo Hyejun was someone best kept at a distance.

Someone who brought nothing but trouble.

Someone he didn’t even want to keep in sight like a thorn in his side.

Which meant that tonight had to be an exception—one that wouldn’t repeat.

Jeongun cut her off with a dismissive tone, as if brushing away a nuisance.

“Just stay here for the night. I’ll take you to the terminal in the morning.”

It was a clear statement: he’d let her stay for tonight, but not a second longer.

And maybe, just maybe, he had rushed to say it because something about the words hovering between those small, full lips made him instinctively uneasy.

Having made his decision, Jeongun stood to take her bag to the guest room.

But before he could take a single step, a quiet, brittle voice clung to him.

“Just a little longer.”

Her desperate eyes held him in place.

“Three months? Let me stay here for that long. I really have nowhere else to go.”

Jeongun, caught off guard, abandoned the thought of moving and sat back down.

“I’ll find a place by then. Just until then.”

Her bold request, almost shameless in its confidence, made his anger rise to his throat, but he swallowed it down. Instead, he asked bluntly—

“The archery hall?”

He was referring to Sounjeong, the place in Taejin, Gyeongnam, where Hyejun had lived with Seonju.

It was the first thing he should have asked, but he had put it off simply because he couldn’t stand to say the name.

“You have a perfectly good home. What the hell are you doing?”

“I can’t live there anymore.”

“Why?”

“I got evicted. Couldn’t pay off all the debt.”

At her stark confession, Jeongun was left speechless, staring at her lips in stunned silence.