BO - 7

07. I Hope You Miss Me

The bruised expanse of my back throbbed with pain, every touch sending sharp, bone-deep aches coursing through me.  

My humerus, scapula—every bone in my body seemed to ache. Tiny beads of blood dotted my scalp. What on earth had happened to my head for blood to pool there? The nurse’s alarmed exclamations confirmed it. Even though my hair had only been yanked once, my scalp bore raw scratches as if it had been torn apart.  

That morning, when Choi Si-baek unexpectedly appeared leaning against the car, I felt a wave of relief wash over me upon seeing he was unharmed.  

Though he’d pushed me away so harshly, here I was, relieved for his safety and stretching out my legs like a fool.  

I hadn’t said a word during the entire ride, staring blankly at the car window until we arrived at work.  

So this is what it meant to overstep boundaries. He’d even made sure to drive the point home—I had no choice but to step back now.  

Why was he angry with me when I was the one who got hurt? His harsh words stung as if I’d been slapped again. My wounds were raw, yet here I was questioning why he was upset.  

But these thoughts stayed trapped inside me, unspoken. I’d thought I was someone who could worry about him, but clearly, even that was presumptuous. From the start, there was never any need for words between us. He was alive, he showed up for work—that was enough.  

I ate lunch with my colleagues, tasting nothing, then headed to the garden on the same building floor. I held a cup of coffee in my hand, but whether it was growing cold or not didn’t matter to me anymore.  

“Uncle.”  

“Yes, what is it?”  

“I have something to tell you.”  

Even with my sudden call, Uncle showed no signs of being busy.  

He was always kind and indulgent toward me. Perhaps that’s why I acted so spoiled.  

As he encouraged me to speak, I heard him take a cigarette from the man beside him, followed by the distinct click of a metal lighter opening.  

“I don’t need a bodyguard anymore.”  

“What do you mean, all of a sudden?”  

“I want to try adapting. I can’t live like this forever.”  

“I understand your feelings, but I worry.”  

I knew the story of what had happened while security had been momentarily lax—Uncle’s lover had attempted suicide.  

I guessed that this was why Uncle had become so overprotective of me. He feared losing someone precious again, just as he had before. One mistake was more than enough.  

I felt the same way. This much was enough. If I went any further, someone would inevitably get hurt—it was a game with clear stakes. If we stopped seeing each other, if we stopped crossing paths, he would eventually fade from my life. It might feel unbearable now, but humans forget. Time buries the past, and people move on. Surely, he too would reach that point someday.  

“Then… could you assign someone else instead?”  

My unexpected response left Uncle silent.  

“He’s such a busy person, Director Choi. If I grow too dependent on his protection, it’ll be harder for me when I’m alone later. He’s so meticulous, after all.”  

Last night’s rejection was essentially an answer to my unspoken confession.  

I no longer wanted to endure anything that caused me pain. There had never been a clear starting point to whatever this relationship was, so there was no pain to begin with. Yet here I was, already hurting. Walking down a path I already knew would lead nowhere—what a foolish act.  

“All right. You’re right about that. Let’s try adapting gradually. But for now, I’ll keep someone assigned to you, just to ease my mind.”  

Uncle still carried guilt. I understood his burden. In a world where knife wounds were commonplace, my injury might seem trivial. But Uncle carried guilt over losing his younger sibling. He blamed himself for not protecting me, his niece.  

If his younger sibling were still alive, they would have surely resented him. “Didn’t my child almost die because of you?”  

Knowing Uncle’s worries, I offered a weak smile.  

“Okay. Please assign someone else instead of Director Choi. I think that would be best.”  

Was my throat tingling because my insides burned, or did my burning insides make my throat churn? My mouth tasted bitter.  

I nodded slightly at Seok-woo, who entered the garden, offering a small bow.  

“Uncle, I need to go now.”  

After hanging up, I looked at Seok-woo. Spotting the paper cup already in my hand, he smiled awkwardly.  

“Oh, you’ve already got coffee.”  

“It’s fine, give it to me. This one’s gone cold anyway.”  

“You didn’t hang up because of me, did you?”  

“No, it was time to end the call anyway.”  

The warmth of the cup was soothing, its temperature just right.  

Perhaps he’d noticed that I always drank warm vending machine coffee at this time—the temperature was perfect. We sat together on a bench in the garden.  

“How was your mother’s memorial day?”  

“It went well, thanks to you.”  

As I sipped the coffee, now warmed again, I winked in gratitude. Seok-woo couldn’t hold back a laugh, bursting into quiet giggles.  

“Why are you laughing?”  

“No reason. Miss Seo, you just have this way of making people feel good. There are some people who just make you smile whenever they’re around.”  

“That’s a compliment, right?”  

“Yes, definitely. And… Miss Seo.”  

“Yes?”  

“Can we go on another date? I’d like to. Would you accept an after-request?”  

He asked cautiously, rubbing the bottom of the paper cup with a smile. I was taken aback by his unexpected question. After our last parting, I assumed the blind date was over. I hadn’t expected him to bring it up again. Working at the same hospital, I’d hoped we could avoid making things awkward. For some reason, Choi Si-baek came to mind. Right. I really needed to forget him. I had to meet someone new.  

“I’ll think about it.”  

“Positively?”  

“Hmm. I’ll think about that too.”  

“Why does that not sound positive?”  

Seok-woo grinned brightly, unable to hide his chuckles as he bit the edge of the paper cup.  

“But did you hurt your ankle? That bandage…”  

“Oh, it’s just a sprain. I stepped wrong.”  

Right after taking off the bandage he’d wrapped for me on Mother’s death anniversary, I’d reapplied pressure. The pain, which had been fading, flared up again after last night’s chaos—but it wasn’t something I could admit.  

Hearing my response, Seok-woo stood up mid-sip, saying he’d bring something to help soothe my ankle.  

“Oh, it’s fine…”  

Watching him leave, I absentmindedly touched the bandaged ankle.  

This ankle wasn’t the real issue.  

All day, I hadn’t even noticed the pain in my ankle, so preoccupied was I with trying to soothe my crumbling heart.  

“Are we pulling an all-nighter here? I don’t have the hobby of sleeping standing up.”  

Cha Geon-joo stood slanted, his usual slippery smirk hidden behind half-raised lips. Rubbing the nape of his neck, he glanced pointedly at the open backseat. Waiting any longer was clearly boring him.  

I was the one who told them not to send Choi Si-baek anymore. So, naturally, he wouldn’t come. It wasn’t a big deal. Why, then, did my heart feel so bitter?  

I realized how difficult it was to fill an empty heart.  

I’d heard that Goh Hye-jung met countless new people to forget Choi Si-baek, but I found her words hard to understand. No one could possibly fill the void in me now. It was as if this space had invisible patterns and grids, and only Choi Si-baek’s fingerprint could fit perfectly into the picture I’d drawn.  

Maybe she was right—it wasn’t forgetting, but folding.  

A picture that could never be forgotten, only folded away. Like a sunset that lingers briefly before vanishing with time. Like an unreachable landscape, Choi Si-baek had faded away.  

Climbing into the backseat, the familiar citrus scent was replaced by bergamot filling the car.  

The owner of this unfamiliar fragrance took the driver’s seat.  

It was just a change of driver, but everything felt different—the ride, the speed, even the texture of the asphalt beneath us. Watching the unfamiliar figure driving, I turned my gaze to the window.

“Want a cigarette?”  

“What?”  

“You’ve got that look on your face.”  

Cha Geon-joo, meeting my gaze through the rearview mirror, flicked his fingers lazily as he turned the steering wheel to make a left.  

“What kind of look is ‘I want a cigarette’?”  

“Hmm, like you’re thinking about someone really hard.”  

Exhaling deeply, Cha Geon-joo responded in a slow, deliberate tone.  

“And who might that someone be?”  

“It’s whoever you think I’m thinking about right now.”  

“…I was actually thinking about my patient, Mrs. Kim Bok-ja.”  

“Oh, okay.”  

Smirking faintly, Cha Geon-joo nodded indulgently, as if humoring a child. Uncle always surrounded me with handsome men, and even his close associates were all ridiculously good-looking. What was this, F4? So funny.  

No, not funny at all. A bitter, suffocating feeling filled my chest, one whose cause I didn’t even want to understand.  

“If you’re not busy, do you want to grab a drink?”  

The words slipped out before I could stop them, for no apparent reason.  

It was easy to ask because I felt nothing—neither dislike nor affection—for him. If he refused, fine. It was an easy stance to maintain.  

Was that why Choi Si-baek treated me so lukewarmly? That tepid temperature—neither hot nor cold—was the easiest to handle.  

Choi Si-baek, who somehow carried both extremes of heat and cold within him, treated me with indifference. But I wasn’t indifferent. The gap between our temperatures was too vast, and it saddened me.  

And yet, here I was worrying again—was the knife wound really okay?  

That pain would be incomparable to the bruised expanse of my back. I knew it well—I’d experienced it myself.  

“There’s a place I know near your house.”  

The eyes reflected in the rearview mirror remained calm and amused despite my sudden invitation.  

Why does he keep smiling like that? Handsome men were starting to grate on me. Every single one of them felt overwhelming. That guy in the orange shirt, the former executive director, and Choi Si-baek. Choi Si-baek.  

It was an izakaya not far from my house.  

“Drink slowly. You didn’t invite me to drink together, did you? You just needed someone to sit in front of you, right?”  

Cha Geon-joo asked as he watched me downing shots recklessly.  

“So instead of chatting, eat something. Here.”  

He handed me a skewer of fish cake, chuckling lightly. Handsome and annoying.  

“Everyone’s staring at us.”  

“That’s because of you.”  

Still laughing, he pressed his temple with one hand, covering half his face.  

“So why are you drinking? There must be a reason.”  

“What reason? This is just how office workers live. Don’t you guys chug drinks like this in clubs where gangsters strip women naked?”  

Completely setting the skewer aside, Cha Geon-joo rested his chin on his hand, fully focused on what I was saying. His expression made it clear he found me more interesting than the alcohol. Just then, his phone rang. He gestured an apology and picked it up.  

“My damn dog needs calming down. Excuse me for a moment.”  

Damn dog. Choi Si-baek, damn dog. Muttering under my breath, I swallowed another shot.  

“What? You should’ve gotten the message from Director Choi by now. That’s how it is. Are you going on this business trip instead of me? The documents are on your desk. Why are you being such a pain? No, I was ordered to do it. What nonsense are you spouting now? Just go already. You’re getting on my nerves.”  

After hurling harsh words into the phone, Cha Geon-joo hung up, glaring daggers as if threatening to dunk the caller into a pot of oden broth if they called again.  

“Is that… the guy in the colorful shirt? Ah, I see.”  

Nodding while swallowing another shot, I suddenly heard Choi Si-baek’s voice flash through my mind. Without warning, like an accident, he kept barging into my thoughts.  

“How did you know about my sprained ankle?”  

“What else do you think I do all day besides watch you?”  

And then what? Telling me to leave while I could still move my mouth? Saying everything was annoying?  

“Choi Si-baek, you damn bastard…”  

“Heard it pretty fast, huh?”  

“Huh? Is Director Choi a bastard?”  

My words made no sense—front or back, context or none. I was drunk. I had no idea what I was babbling about.  

Tilting my head with flushed cheeks, Cha Geon-joo stared at me intently, his lips curling into a faint smile. My body absorbed the alcohol like blotting paper, and I kept rubbing my increasingly heavy eyelids.  

“Well, are there any non-dogs around here? Everyone’s worse than a dog.”  

“No… Choi Si-baek isn’t like that to me…”  

“What’s so charming about our Director Choi that every woman he meets ends up crying? Talk about an homme fatale.”  

“I don’t cry. And I’m not particularly interested in Director Choi. What do you take me for?”  

Did he think I was the type of woman who’d fall for some arrogant jerk? I rambled incoherently, trying to lift my head, but my drunken body wouldn’t obey, and my neck kept drooping downward.  

“I’m not that kind of woman. Why would I… go after a man with a girlfriend…”  

Rubbing my warm eyelids, I covered my eyes with my left hand. My eyelids felt unbearably heavy, like lead weights. I propped up my face with both hands, collapsing helplessly like a sunlit chick.  

“A girlfriend? Choi Si-baek has one? Since when? What misunderstanding is our dear niece harboring?”  

“No, he said it himself. Out of his own mouth.”  

“Ah, those meddling old ladies. They probably pushed him into saying it just to test the waters. Even I say I have a girlfriend when I go somewhere.”  

What was he talking about?  

“Choi Si-baek doesn’t meet women.”  

His unexpected words felt like a gun pointed straight at my heart, but I couldn’t bring myself to rejoice.  

So what changed?  

Even without considering the existence of a girlfriend, he had no passionate feelings for me, and I… I lacked the courage to approach him anymore.  

How laughable. All this time, I thought the obstacle between us was his girlfriend. But even without her, the answer remained unknown. Nothing had changed. The obstacle between us wasn’t some faceless woman—it was his heart, which refused to look at me.  

The problem was that I wanted that heart.  

“He’s unusually generous with you. I’ve never seen Choi Si-baek talk so much to a woman. That prick who hates having women over at his place brought you in. His eyes only follow you—he’s such a hopeless bastard. Oh, right. A bastard.”  

“I thought so too, but I was wrong. He doesn’t like me. Choi Si-baek.”  

“Did you even ask?”  

“…”  

“Did you say anything?”  

“…Not exactly, but it felt like I got my answer anyway.”  

“Stop beating around the bush and ask him directly. Forget hearing things secondhand. Ask him yourself.”  

Right. Why had I been so scared? Of rejection? Of my pride?  

Were those petty fears heavier than my heart right now?  

As I cradled my face in anguish, Cha Geon-joo picked up his phone, which had been silent until now.  

“Hey, Si-baek. Where are you? Still at the office? Listen, I need to lay Seo Jae-yeon down. Why? She’s drunk. We’re at an izakaya near your apartment. Our niece can’t hold her liquor. Guess I’ll have to escort her to bed again.”  

Cha Geon-joo grabbed the tokkuri bottle in front of me, poured himself a drink, and took a sip.  

Waiting silently for a response, he absentmindedly clinked his glass against the table.  

The silence stretched like a sweltering tropical night. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.  

“Alright, thanks for your hard work.”  

I love you, Choi Si-baek.  

Why did those three words feel so heavy?  

Had I been hiding them all along?  

“Pour me another drink.”  

“Don’t push it.”  

Cha Geon-joo smirked sarcastically but still refilled my glass, shaking his head.  

“By the way, Mr. Cha Geon-joo, why don’t you have a girlfriend? You’re insanely handsome.”  

“Oh, am I?”  

“Yeah. If I had a son who looked like you, I’d be so happy. Honestly, I prefer you over Kim Jong-seop.”  

I laughed, unaware that my drunken tongue was slurring my words.  

Among Mun-seong’s F4, this guy definitely had the most striking face. Truly, anyone could see it—a small face with sharp features, devastatingly handsome. Choi Si-baek and Kim Jong-seop were drop-dead gorgeous, but this guy slaughtered squid on the streets in his own unique way.  

“Oh, so I’m your type?”  

“Yes. I won’t deny that. But why don’t you have a real girlfriend? Are you impotent?”  

“This kid’s killing me. Want to check?”  

Chuckling, he refilled his empty glass and rested his chin on his hand. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he looked even more attractive now.  

“We could find out if Choi Si-baek really is better than me.”  

“Huh?”  

“You said he’s better than me.”  

“Oh… sex.”  

Snatching the tokkuri from Cha Geon-joo, I poured him another drink.  

Silently watching the rising liquid, Cha Geon-joo clinked his glass against mine. As I raised it to my lips, my hand was suddenly stopped. Lifting my bleary eyelids, I saw a perfectly framed figure standing there—the face I’d tried so hard to forget, the one I’d sworn never to look at again, yet inevitably returned to.  

This had to be a lie. Choi Si-baek couldn’t possibly be here.  

His shirt hugged his broad chest flawlessly, paired with a black vest that fit like a puzzle piece. Occasionally, Choi Si-baek would appear in outfits so stunning they seemed fraudulent, making it impossible to look away.  

And there he stood, his gaze colder than dawn, colder than the abandoned warmth of sunset.  

Choi Si-baek, who held all my seasons within him.  

“…Director Choi?”  

Would fire spread across my dry chest? Those piercing eyes, which I’d secretly admired, now gleamed with the light of dawn.  

“The painting’s nice.”  

A frosty winter morning, heavy with frost and icy air. Today, he was winter incarnate.  

“It’s quite the sight. Too good to keep to myself.”  

Why was he here? My alcohol-soaked brain struggled to catch up.  

Had he left work abruptly? His cufflinks were undone, sleeves rolled up a couple of times.  

Otherwise, he wouldn’t appear in such disarray. Why had he rushed here? Choi Si-baek.  

Running his fingers through his hair with a frustrated expression, Choi Si-baek glared at me, anger simmering in his eyes. Then he bit his lower lip, ran his fingers through his hair again, and looked at me.  

“Damn you…”  

The curse he muttered was one I knew all too well.  

Because I’d whispered it countless times while looking at him.  

“Sex? What nonsense.”  

His eyes burned with fury, imagining what Cha Geon-joo and I might have done, what kind of physical contact we shared, and how intimate our conversation had been.  

“Damn it, what are you doing?”  

The calm facade he’d maintained so meticulously had finally shattered, unleashing the storm within.