TTD Chapter 3

“So, you’ve got me now, huh? Is that why you arranged to meet here?”

Ahyeon narrowed her eyes and gestured toward the window. Heeju’s gaze followed, stretching beyond the glass. Only then did the hotel’s signature golden emblem, symbolizing Hotel U, come into view.

“Will I be able to meet him…?”

Before the wedding, she desperately wanted to have a private conversation with him—just once.

Ahyeon tilted her head at Heeju’s quiet murmur.

“What are you even worried about? Since it’s come to this, just set up a meeting already.”

Will she be able to meet him? And if she does… if she really does—

“I’m free this evening. What about dinner? No, it doesn’t have to be today. I’ll adjust to his schedule, whatever works. Please? Can’t I just see him up close once? Just hear his voice? It’s really, really my wish. Please?”

Heeju gazed up at the hotel building with its emblem, lost in thought.

“Hey, Yeon Heeju!”

“…Huh?”

“You’re really gonna play dirty like this?”

Heeju looked at the sulking Ahyeon with an awkward expression. No matter how much she was pressured, she had nothing to offer. To outsiders, her fate seemed perfectly wrapped up like a grand gift, but no matter what she said, it would only sound like the complaints of someone who had everything. So instead, she swallowed her words and forced a smile.

“It’s just… sorry. You know how busy he is.”

“Yeah, sure. Always busy.”

“It’s not like that. Maybe next time. After the wedding… I’ll try to make it happen.”

“‘Next time’ and ‘later’—is there anything more vague than that?”

Ahyeon’s skeptical gaze was sharp, but Heeju, knowing she couldn’t keep such a promise, left behind empty words she herself didn’t quite believe. Luckily, Ahyeon wasn’t the type to push too hard. As she stirred the ice in her empty cup, Heeju smoothly changed the subject.

“What about that degree you were planning to get?”

“Oh, that? Just an excuse to slack off more. I’m still hungry for fun, my friend.”

There was a hint of disappointment in Ahyeon’s tone, but she seemed willing to let it go. Soon, she started chattering about how to make her dull, predictable graduate school life a little more entertaining.

And just like that, their conversation naturally drifted to another topic.

Or at least, it seemed to.

Ahyeon was staring out the window, snapping a picture of the snow piled on the thin branches with her phone, when—

“What the…?”

Her wide eyes shifted to Heeju, who was dabbing the corners of her mouth with a tissue. Just as Ahyeon felt a strange sense of amusement rising, she suddenly grabbed Heeju’s wrist, her eyes widening in excitement.

“That car. As far as I know, there’s only one of those in the entire country. I heard he bought it earlier this year, but, my god. Of all places, here?”

Finding Ahyeon’s reaction strange, Heeju followed her gaze with suspicion.

“Right? It has to be his, right? Wow, this must be fate. The heavens are on our side. I won’t take up much of his time—let’s settle for five minutes. How about it? I won’t say anything weird, Heeju. Just a quick hello… really, just—hey, where are you going?”

Ahyeon’s half-joking plea went unfinished.

Heeju had already risen to her feet, as if drawn by an invisible force. Without a second thought, she dashed toward a car preparing to pull away from in front of the company building, ignoring the rules of the road entirely.

The moment her shoe soles slipped slightly on the snow, the car, just about to accelerate, hit the brakes.

The driver, without a chauffeur, gripped the steering wheel himself, his gaze locking onto her as she exhaled white breath into the cold air, standing there with her arms spread wide.

…

Did he truly recognize her?

What was he thinking, forcing this marriage through?

Her eyes were filled with endless questions—questions she wanted to ask, challenge, and even beg for answers to.

The chaos she caused on the road was nothing compared to the turmoil inside her.

Had she made a mistake?

A flicker of regret surfaced, but it disappeared just as quickly.

The driver’s side door opened—not hastily, but not leisurely either.

A long leg, clad in a perfectly tailored suit, stepped onto the ground.

And then, standing before her, was Ryu Iseok.

…

His hair, slicked back more neatly than it had been four years ago, and his immaculately tailored suit exuded the dignity befitting the head of a company. The composed weight in his demeanor and his carefully maintained attitude screamed elite. It was as if he was scoffing at the media’s nickname for him—the “black sheep” of the Geo Group.

At least, on the surface.

Heeju swallowed dryly.

The same unsettling tension she had always felt around him stiffened her body, making it clear that nothing had changed.

Around them, car horns blared.

Company employees were rushing over.

Beyond the crosswalk, Ahyeon was fidgeting anxiously, waiting for the light to change.

But none of that registered.

In this moment, it felt like only she and this man existed in the world.

For a brief second, she felt relieved by his silence.

Yes. He doesn’t recognize me.

“…Yeon Heeju.”

But then, her name slipped through his lips.

And in that instant, she felt her heart plummet.

“…What do you think you’re doing?”

Unlike the countless times he had toyed with her with just his eyes in the past, this was the first time he had ever spoken her name.

The sheer unreality of hearing it from his mouth left her frozen.

As his polished shoes closed the distance between them, the space around them finally seemed to move again.

Her heart, which had momentarily stopped, now pounded frantically in sync with his approaching steps.

Her breath grew short and shallow.

Now standing right in front of her, he was overwhelmingly tall.

She had never been this close to him before.

Her chin trembled.

“…Mar… Marriage.”

Her voice, swallowed by nerves, barely managed to escape.

Seeing her struggle, he leaned in slightly—courteous, yet with an undeniable weight to his presence.

His body exuded a sharp, crisp energy, yet oddly, there was no distinct scent.

Only a faint trace of cigarette smoke lingered, following him like a whisper, subtle yet unmistakable.

It was the same scent that always clung to him when he flicked open his Zippo lighter.

“…Marriage.”

“…Ah. Marriage.”

So this was why she felt so bewildered.

He dominated everything with just his presence.

As if he understood the stiff, awkward words her tongue had forced out, he pulled away again. The faint smile on his face, backlit by the light, seemed to shatter in the distance.

“Let’s get married.”

Iseok acknowledged her at once, as if to say that while this marriage wasn’t particularly significant in his life, it wasn’t some trivial joke he would back down from either. His voice was refreshingly composed, gentlemanly. Almost irritatingly relaxed.

“Sir.”

His secretary, summoned, approached. Even then, his gaze lingered on Heeju’s skin, slow and deliberate, as if he were carefully studying her, just as he had in that closed room in Paris. Deep and unrelenting.

“I nearly ran you over just now, didn’t I?”

His smile wasn’t really a smile.

His lips barely curved, yet his stare was fixed, unwavering.

Heeju unconsciously bit down on her lower lip.

Only then did Iseok finally shift his gaze to the secretary.

“She’s not hurt, just a little shaken. Director Min, make sure she gets home safely.”

He lifted his wrist to check the time.

“I have a prior engagement I can’t cancel. Any matters regarding the marriage—send them through my secretary. I’ll accommodate them as much as possible.”

With that businesslike reply, he stepped into his car, this time with slightly quicker movements.

Just as it seemed the car would drive off, it hesitated beside her.

Through the smoothly lowered window, she caught a glimpse of his profile.

“Yeon Heeju, how old are you this year?”

“…Twenty-five.”

His shadowed profile looked impossibly deep, like a bottomless abyss.

“You’ll be twenty-six when the year changes.”

He murmured, eyes narrowing slightly, as if in amusement.

“Take care.”

Heeju could only watch, her gaze conflicted, as his car slipped effortlessly between the other vehicles and disappeared.

It had been four years since they last met…

How could he be so composed, so unaffected?

How could he be so indifferent when they stood on the brink of something so unnatural?

For the past few days, Heeju had been turning the pages of her calendar like a death row inmate counting down their final days.

Discussions about wedding gifts.

The date for the family meeting.

The endless chatter ringing in her ears made her dizzy.

She kept considering running away, only to realize that was impossible.

She had neither the cunning nor the courage to escape successfully.

And then, before she knew it, her year-end solo recital had arrived.

Essentially, it was her retirement concert.

If she got married, she wouldn’t need to play the flute anymore.

The fact that she didn’t feel the slightest bit of regret made it clear—this had never truly been the right path for her.

Still, there was one thing she was grateful for: playing the flute had been a convenient excuse to study abroad, away from her grandparents.

And now, after fifteen years, it was time to set down the title of flutist, a role she had chosen solely because it seemed elegant.

As she sat in the dressing room, receiving her makeup with an oddly detached expression for someone about to perform their final concert, her grandmother approached with a knowing smile.

“I sent an invitation just in case, and wouldn’t you know it—he actually showed up.”

The moment she heard those words, Heeju clenched her sweaty palms together.

A sudden wave of nerves made her heartbeat race.

Even after the opening performance had ended and the staff sent her signals, she remained frozen, pale as a sheet.

She had never felt this kind of fear before.

…

Slowly, she walked to the center of the stage.

Even as she took her seat, her nervousness was visibly greater than usual.

She took a deep breath, emptying her mind before beginning to play.

Her body followed the music it had performed countless times before.

There was no room for thought—thoughts only disrupted the flow.

She knew this.

And yet…

Somewhere in the audience, he was watching her.

As the performance neared its midpoint, her eyes, hazy with concentration, instinctively scanned the seats.

She wasn’t one to pay much attention to the audience, but tonight—

Tonight, one face, one presence, stood out starkly from the crowd.

Seated leisurely in a royal box, one leg crossed over the other, was Ryu Iseok.

The moment their gazes locked—

“…!”

A jarring, unpleasant note burst from her flute.

The misplaced sound instantly disrupted the atmosphere.

Heeju, startled, pulled the flute away from her lips.

Her lips, drained of color, trembled.

The piano accompaniment hesitated in confusion before attempting to recover, but Heeju’s flute refused to make a sound.

As the strength in her sweat-dampened hands faltered, the flute slipped from her grip—

And with a sharp clatter, it hit the floor.

The audience erupted into hushed murmurs.