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Jinsuk’s usually hollow and listless eyes sharpened, a rare sight.
The secretary, about to deliver his report, swallowed hard, visibly nervous.
“Song Joo-eun’s mother…”
Even Jinsuk, who rarely showed any sign of disturbance, seemed shaken by the revelation.
After a brief hesitation, the secretary continued.
“…It seems she was the owner of that pension where Madam resided.”
Clunk. The wineglass slipped from her trembling hand and shattered on the carpet.
Her fingers quivered noticeably as they had failed to hold onto the glass.
Staring at the deep red wine staining her slippers, Jinsuk’s wavering eyes overlapped with memories of that day—memories still vivid after more than 20 years.
Like the scar imprinted on her foot, those moments refused to fade.
“How… How could something like this happen…”
The couple who had saved her, their kind faces so pure, and their adorable young daughter.
Even knowing they had rescued her, she hadn’t once thanked them.
Instead of gratitude, resentment had taken precedence—resentment for being saved.
Later, she heard through the secretary that the pension had gone out of business.
Rumors of death haunting the place had driven it to ruin.
Overwhelmed by belated guilt, she had visited the site, only to find the pension itself erased, leaving no trace of them behind.
Or perhaps she hadn’t truly looked.
Deep down, maybe she hadn’t wanted to meet them again.
And now, here they were—reappearing in her life through her son.
“Am I… being punished? Is this my punishment for not knowing gratitude?”
The woman her son, who lived like an emotionless robot, had first fallen in love with turned out to be the daughter of that family.
Fear crashed over her like waves, shaking her entire body.
“Madam. Perhaps you should take some sedatives…”
“Ha… This can’t be real. Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain that she was the owner of that pension?”
“Yes… I’m certain.”
“Ha. Haha…”
Laughter or tears—it was unclear. A chilling sob filled the room.
Exhaling deeply, the secretary quietly placed a folded memo on the table.
“It’s the address of the house where Song Joo-eun and her mother live.”
Jinsuk stared at the paper, unable to unfold it. Her eyes welled up with unshed tears.
“What am I supposed to do there? Should I go get my hair pulled and wake up from this nightmare?”
“Perhaps… the wounds from that day remain unhealed, which is why you’re still suffering like this.”
Before the secretary’s words could sink in, tears spilled from Jinsuk’s eyes, falling silently to the floor.
Maybe it was true.
The starting point of her collapse, burdened by guilt for giving her son a lifetime of scars, had begun with that day.
Was this torment the price she paid for ignoring and turning away from that memory?
She bit her trembling lips until they bled, but no answers came.
________________________________________
________________________________________
“HAHAHA!”
Rare laughter echoed through the marketing team.
Minhyuk, who hadn’t seemed well earlier, had left work nearly an hour earlier than usual, sparking excitement among the team.
While the others buzzed with energy, Joo-eun couldn’t focus on her work, worried about him.
He had promised to leave together yet went ahead alone—clearly, something wasn’t right.
‘Is he sick…?’
Though she tried to reassure herself that he was an adult and would recover with rest and medication, thoughts of him trapped in another nightmare, sweating profusely, weighed heavily on her mind.
“This kind of day doesn’t come often. Manager Choi, how about we have a team dinner tonight?”
Assistant Manager Kim, already hyped up and stirring gossip around the office, boldly suggested a team outing.
“Why not?”
Manager Choi agreed, and soon everyone else chimed in enthusiastically.
“Song Ju-eun, you’re coming too, right?”
“Huh?”
Lost in thought, Joo-eun hadn’t even noticed the discussion about the dinner. She blinked in surprise.
“I mean, tonight’s perfect for it.”
“Oh, I… I have prior plans.”
“Aww, what kind of plans? If they’re not important, cancel them. You know the saying: ‘Together we thrive, apart we die.’”
That saying probably didn’t apply to office dinners…
Unable to say that outright, Joo-eun awkwardly laughed instead.
As she debated how to decline, someone had already reserved a venue, and another had already shut down their computer.
Seriously, were these people always this quick…?
Their enthusiasm exuded remarkable unity.
Um… I really need to go somewhere tonight…
But the atmosphere was so heated that Joo-eun couldn’t bring herself to speak up.
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Finally freed from Assistant Manager Kim, who insisted on a second round with half-closed eyes, Joo-eun staggered toward the subway station.
Drinking two last glasses before leaving made the pavement wobble beneath her feet.
Stopping mid-step, she sighed softly.
The harder she tried to clear her mind, the clearer his face became.
Seeing vulnerability in someone who had always been as sharp as a blade made her heart ache. She couldn’t bring herself to go home.
‘Should I call to check if he’s okay…?’
Fiddling with her phone, Joo-eun hesitated.
Had the alcohol made her bold? Her deliberation time was shorter than usual.
The dial tone rang loudly, like a heartbeat.
‘What if he’s asleep…?’
Just as she considered hanging up to avoid waking him, a soft voice answered.
[Yes.]
Her lips parted soundlessly several times in surprise.
“Ah, um… It’s me, Song Joo-eun.”
[I know.]
His curt reply made her fidget nervously with her hands.
“Are you okay…? I was worried.”
[…]
“Have you eaten?”
[Not yet.]
Couldn’t he at least pretend to be fine to ease her worry? His weak voice only made her more anxious.
“If you can’t eat rice, at least have some porridge.”
[Abalone porridge.]
“Huh?”
[I’ll get two bowls so we can eat together.]
No, wait—that wasn’t what she meant. She had planned to suggest ordering delivery.
Before she could clarify, the call ended abruptly.
“Hello? Hello…?”
Why was he calling her at 9 p.m. for porridge…?
Drunk, tired, and unsure if it was appropriate to visit at such a late hour, she hesitated.
Every time she visited his house, things felt dangerously unpredictable—whether he wavered or she did.
Remembering the charged, tense air that made anything seem possible, her hesitation was understandable.
Maybe she shouldn’t have called.
Just as regret began to creep in, relief washed over her. At least she knew he wasn’t lost in another nightmare.
“Hmm… Where’s the nearest porridge shop?”
Thinking of him waiting at home without eating, she couldn’t delay. Forcing her drooping eyelids open, she opened the map app.
Searching for nearby porridge shops, she hurriedly set off.
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Minhyuk stood in the middle of a serene green garden, wearing a cozy gray knit sweater and ivory cotton pants. He watched Joo-eun approach.
“You’re here.”
Though his perfectly tailored suits at work were undeniably alluring, his casual attire suited him just as flawlessly, like a model.
Today, however, his slightly frail appearance stirred protective instincts.
“Did you take your medicine? You don’t look well.”
“I took it earlier. Give me the bag—I’ll carry it.”
“No, please don’t do anything. Let me handle everything today. Consider it repayment for letting me rest comfortably last time.”
Though Minhyuk didn’t particularly enjoy being treated like a patient, he couldn’t deny how endearing she looked, bringing him porridge.
“By the way… Did you drink?”
He scanned her up and down.
“Huh?”
“Did you celebrate my early departure with a team dinner?”
His intuition was spot-on…
Joo-eun tried to act unfazed, but her expression betrayed her.
“That’s not it. The dinner was planned for today anyway.”
“How much did you drink?”
“Just enough.”
One and a half bottles…
“That’s disappointing. You should’ve drunk more.”
His teasing remark narrowed her eyes.
“Should I go back then?”
“Just kidding. Thank you for coming. I was actually debating whether to call you, thinking you might feel hurt if you didn’t.”
Truthfully, he had almost called her multiple times, worried about urgent matters keeping her away.
But imagining her skipping the visit and him lying in bed, stomach empty save for hastily swallowed pills, made it impossible to let her off the hook.
“You’d have starved and slept all night if I hadn’t come.”
“Probably.”
Of course, she thought, shaking her head with a smile.
Already familiar with the house, she headed straight for the kitchen.
“I’ll warm up the porridge. Rest while I prepare it.”
“It’s just a mild cold. I have enough strength to sit, so don’t worry.”
Though it seemed more than mild, Joo-eun knew better than to argue.
“Fine, sit quietly and tell me where I can find a pot to heat the porridge.”
“Somewhere below.”
Her brow furrowed slightly.
In this spacious kitchen, “somewhere below” was vague. Could she even find it tonight?
“Where are the bowls? Something wide and round.”
She cupped her small white hands to mimic the shape of a bowl.
“Somewhere above?”
What was she expecting, gesturing with her hands? Clicking her tongue lightly, she turned back around.
“Alright, I’ll figure it out myself.”
By now, she might know this house better than he did.
The kitchen, styled in white and gray with sleek built-in designs, was stunning—but locating items required opening every cabinet until memorized.
After rummaging through various drawers and shelves, she discovered beautifully crafted bowls that caught her eye.
“I found it!”
Triumphantly raising the bowl high, she marveled at its jade-green hue, perfect for pairing with white porridge.
Unfortunately, it was placed on the highest shelf, forcing her to tiptoe despite her average height.
With effort, she hooked her middle finger under the edge of the bowl and gently pulled.
Relieved, she relaxed for a moment—only for the bowl to slip and plummet vertically.
“Ah…!”
Instinctively, she cringed, bracing for impact.
Great, breaking dishes now? What a disaster.
But strangely, no shattering sound followed. Instead, silence reigned.
“Huh? It… didn’t break?”
As her rigid body slowly relaxed, she realized she wasn’t alone. Behind her, his solid presence pressed close.
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