Masquerader Chapter 12

More medication was added—sedatives and sleep aids.  

 

The doctor who had rushed over in response to the emergency assessed the situation and gave an uninspired, routine diagnosis. Post-traumatic stress disorder, or something like that. In other words, her mind was not intact.  

 

Seol-ah kept the blinds drawn at all times. She never left the hospital room and met no one except the medical staff. Following the rules that Yang Chi-wook, the chief secretary, had laid out was not difficult.  

 

Even if it’s frustrating, endure it.

 

That’s what he had told her, but she didn’t feel particularly frustrated, nor did she have anything specific to endure. It was because she felt nothing at all. Until her ruptured eardrum healed and her damaged joints mended, she was endlessly lethargic, sleeping all day.  

 

As soon as the doctor permitted outpatient treatment, she was discharged. Chi-wook had brought her a change of clothes.  

 

“What about the clothes I was wearing?”  

 

It was only then, after spending so much time in a hospital gown, that Seol-ah thought to ask about them. The only belonging returned to her was her phone.  

 

“They had to cut them up a lot during the emergency treatment, so they were too damaged to keep. I had them discarded. Were they important?”  

 

He spoke so nonchalantly about throwing away someone else’s clothes. Not that it really mattered. It wasn’t as if they held any sentimental value.  

 

“No.”  

 

The coat wasn’t even hers, but it hardly mattered now.  

 

“Wear a mask and a hat. We’ll be leaving through the VIP exit.”  

 

It was a bit comical, being wrapped up tightly and escorted by burly men in black suits with excessive caution as she got into the car. It felt like a scene straight out of an over-the-top spy movie.  

 

Never once had she wished for her life to take such a turn, but now she felt like a third-rate actor forced onto an unwanted stage. Except, she had lost even the will to struggle for survival, making it all the more wretched.  

 

“We’ve arrived. You’ll be staying here from now on.”  

 

Chi-wook had taken Seol-ah to an officetel in Seoul. It was larger and more luxurious than the hospital room she had spent the past fifteen days in, yet it felt just as closed off.  

 

“I have a home too.”  

 

“I know. Mangwon-dong, Haengbok Villa, Room 303. You shouldn’t go there. Reporters are swarming the place. And the other side is still looking for you, so it’s best to be careful.”

 

After witnessing Seol-ah faint before his eyes, Chi-wook began referring to Seo Gyo-jin with vague terms like “the other side,” “that person,” and “them.” Not that it made the inherent repulsiveness disappear.

 

“I stocked the fridge with food, so you can just heat it up. Everything you need for daily life should already be there. But if anything is missing, let me know. I’ll bring it next time.”

 

Seo Tae-shin, the managing director of Seomyeong Group. Because he had the misfortune of serving under a superior who seemed like a knight of justice straight out of a fairy tale, Chi-wook found himself saddled with the troublesome task of looking after someone else. Every three or four days, he stopped by the hospital.

 

He’s done more than enough, hasn’t he? Is he planning to keep coming even after I’m discharged? Seol-ah thought absentmindedly as she gave a vague nod.

 

“If calling feels burdensome, texting is fine too. Reach out anytime.”

 

Though Seol-ah had not once contacted him first in the past two weeks and likely wouldn’t in the future, Chi-wook still said the same parting words every time he left.

 

“Make sure you eat.”

 

Chi-wook let out a small sigh as he watched Seol-ah remain silent, then opened the front door.

 

“Rest well.”

 

The door closed quietly, followed by the sound of the digital lock engaging. Left alone in the unfamiliar officetel, Seol-ah opened the nearest door. The bed in the empty room was enormous. Though exhaustion was second nature to her, she didn’t feel like lying down.

 

It had been the same in the hospital. The premium bed in the VIP room was excessively plush. Sleep overtook her in an instant, and whenever she succumbed, she always had the same dream.

 

An endlessly dense forest, a night owl hooting as it pursued her, branches grazing her cheeks, vines coiling around her ankles, the squelching ground clinging to her feet. As she dragged herself forward, a gunshot tore through the air behind her.

 

Seol-ah, no longer limping, sank into the living room sofa and absentmindedly picked at a hangnail before closing her eyes.

 

If a nightmare repeats itself long enough, will there come a day when it no longer frightens me? Maybe if I memorize every detail by heart.

 

At some point, she must have dozed off. Inevitably, she dreamed again. And when she woke, she was no longer alone in the officetel.

 

“……”

 

A man was sitting sideways on a dining chair, angled to face the sofa, smoking a cigarette. The crimson sunset spilling through the window cast long shadows along his legs. The ember at the tip of his cigarette burned even redder than the twilight.

 

She wasn’t startled. Even before opening her eyes, she had smelled the cigarette smoke—or rather, the scent that had roused her before anything else. A deep, heavy fragrance, damp yet strangely sweet. The scent that awakened memories of that day in the mountains.

 

Seo Tae-shin. That was the man’s name.

 

Seol-ah, who no longer believed in fairy tales, had begun to suspect that the man she encountered in the mountains was none other than Seo Tae-shin of Seomyeong Group. It was the only explanation for all the bizarre events that had unfolded since she woke up alone in the hospital. Otherwise, there was no reason for someone from Seomyeong Group to be helping her.

 

“You seem to be doing fine.”

 

Instead of asking, “Are you Seo Tae-shin?” Seol-ah responded in a voice still thick with sleep. Was it the lingering dream, the cigarette smoke, or the man’s scent? Her head felt foggy.

 

The image of him casually smoking beside a dying wild animal resurfaced in her mind. Compared to then, the man before her seemed entirely different—almost unrecognizably so.

 

His tailored suit fit him as if crafted exclusively for him. The watch on his wrist gleamed coldly despite being bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun.

 

His hair, which had once been carelessly disheveled, was now meticulously swept back, accentuating the austere sharpness of his expression.

 

The savage brutality that once tore through barbed wire with bare hands was now carefully concealed beneath the refined layers of his three-piece suit. Yet, the oppressive aura radiating from him, like an innate scent, steadily filled the living room, suffocating the air.

 

“You look like a mess.”

 

Seo Tae-shin exhaled smoke as he spoke. His voice was chillingly deep, thick with an unsettling dampness, like mist-laden air scraping against her ribs. It felt as though she was being pulled back into that day. A ringing started in her ears.

 

“This is not that bad,” she murmured.

 

Seol-ah slowly pushed herself upright from the sofa. As she replayed his words, a thought crossed her mind—if this was a mess, it really wasn’t so bad.

 

Compared to when she had to crawl and tumble through the mountains, clad in nothing but a camisole over her underwear, her body scraped and battered, this was paradise. Lounging idly, indulging in a deep afternoon nap—what about her now could possibly be considered a mess?

 

Seo Tae-shin flicked the ash from his cigarette before placing it back between his lips. His long fingers moved with a refined grace. Yet, they were the same hands that had once pulled a trigger without hesitation, aimed at a living creature.

 

“You were crying in your sleep.”

 

Seol-ah reached up and touched her face. Only then did she realize her cheeks and the skin around her eyes were damp.

 

“You should’ve woken me.”

 

“I will next time.”

 

With an indifferent murmur, the man took a slow drag from his cigarette. His dark, ashen-gray eyes, fixed intently on her, were ones she knew well. That mesmerizing, turbulent shade she had seen up close before.

 

That day—was it really you who fell with me?