IT - 15

15. The Scope of the Relationship  

Their heated lips never parted, not even for a moment. It had all started when Tae-ha leaned in to examine her swollen lips, claiming they looked pitiful. As his thumb brushed against her soft lips, their gazes intertwined as if by unspoken agreement. 

And like lovers accustomed to passionate goodbyes, their deep kiss continued for over an hour—right there, near her house, where she had once begged him for a kiss while drunk. 

Ji-soo harbored both a desire to remember and to forget that night. She didn’t want to miss a single sweet moment shared with Tae-ha. 

When Ji-soo lightly tapped the tip of Tae-ha’s insistently probing tongue, he briefly allowed her some breathing room—but only for a fleeting moment. Still, it felt as though they now shared a secret understanding known only to the two of them: a modest plea for air amidst his overwhelming force. 

“Mmm… Hoo.” 

The summer night air inside the car grew stiflingly hot. In the narrow, humid space, Ji-soo carefully controlled her heavy breathing. Even after Tae-ha’s hand left her chin, she kept her eyes closed, deeply accepting his lips, wishing this moment could last forever. 

Few people passed through this dim neighborhood, devoid of proper streetlights and awaiting redevelopment. 

Click. Tae-ha unbuckled Ji-soo’s seatbelt. By the time she realized what he intended to do, the seat was already reclined, and his massive frame had nimbly shifted into her space. 

It felt as though she were being compensated for ten years of unrequited love all at once over the course of two days—even the memory of that miserable night when she confessed to him and was rejected. 

Tae-ha skillfully untied the neatly fastened blouse, undoing each tiny button lining the inner fabric. This was the same expertise he had displayed countless times in hotel bedrooms, on dining tables, in bathrooms, and on living room sofas, dressing and undressing Ji-soo. 

“Wait! I haven’t answered yet.” 

But Tae-ha’s hands moved faster than Ji-soo’s urgent plea. Before she knew it, her skirt was already precariously hanging around her ankles, its zipper undone. 

“What answer?” 

Of course, Ji-soo hadn’t expected Tae-ha to patiently wait for her response, but she hadn’t anticipated him forgetting the proposal he himself had made just a day ago. His burning gaze suggested that his desire to take her outweighed any other consideration. 

Still, Ji-soo struggled under the weight of her deliberations. She needed to calculate various possibilities across present and future timelines. Even if they entered into a sleeping-only relationship, it shouldn’t interfere with work, and she had to prepare herself emotionally for the possibility of parting ways without getting hurt. 

“I’m not exactly known for my patience or good temper. So, when can I expect your answer?” 

Though Tae-ha demanded an answer with his words, his actions betrayed no intention of listening. The tips of his fingers, which had been rubbing the insides of her thighs, suddenly tore through her stockings with a sharp sound. Once again, the expensive limited-edition pair Ji-soo carried in her bag as a spare was rendered useless. 

Watching Ji-soo’s face, which was close to tears, Tae-ha let out a soft chuckle. Even in this situation, those damn pricey stockings were the first thing that caught his attention. 

Pushing aside his irritation caused by the stockings, Tae-ha began redressing her. He didn’t want to be hated before even hearing her answer. 

“I’ll buy you new stockings. Since I’ll probably tear them every time we meet, we might as well set up regular deliveries.” 

Ji-soo stared at Tae-ha with a frosty gaze as he moved back to the driver’s seat. 

“You never really considered my opinion important from the start, did you?” 

“That’s not true.” 

While he did value her opinion, Ji-soo’s answer wouldn’t have changed his determination to pursue this relationship. He hadn’t expected her to refuse, but even if she had, he wouldn’t have given up on her. 

As Ji-soo adjusted her disheveled clothing and straightened the seat, she said, “You said you’d give me time to think. But this…” 

Tae-ha gazed at Ji-soo, tracing her flushed face with soft, sweeping eyes. Even just scanning her calm expression made his lower body throb painfully. There were only two explanations: either he was suffering from pent-up frustration, or he’d gone mad. 

From the sound of Ji-soo’s gentle breathing while asleep to the sweet scent of her skin when he kissed her smooth flesh—every small, seemingly dismissible detail about her, including her coy expressions, hit him like a seismic wave of stimulation. 

“If you answer quickly, it’ll be better and easier for both of us.” 

Ji-soo looked at Tae-ha with a face that clearly showed her confusion. To him, devoid of any tender emotions in this proposition, it was simply about finding an easy and efficient solution. But for Ji-soo, accepting this meant acknowledging a purely physical relationship with the man she had long pined for. 

“You don’t even… like me.” 

When Ji-soo raised her head, she met Tae-ha’s unwavering gaze. His expression was neither affirmative nor negative—just indifferent. 

“You don’t need to like someone to sleep with them. Do you really want such a useless and bothersome emotion?” 

His face, rigid like a statue, faintly twisted before softening into a smirk. 

“I thought we matched well over the weekend. I assumed you enjoyed yourself quite a bit while clinging to me. Isn’t it funny to bring up feelings now?” 

She lost even the will to argue. Everything he said was true, without exaggeration or distortion. While holed up in the hotel, she had been able to focus solely on him, which perhaps dulled her practical concerns. 

Ji-soo pressed her trembling lips together tightly and reached for the car door handle. A large hand abruptly grabbed her small, pale knuckles. 

“If you need something resembling affection, I can provide that too. You know yourself best, but you’re beautiful, and that intrigued me. You’ve exceeded my expectations—so much so that I feel like hunting down every man who’s ever shared your preferences and beating them to death. At least with you, I don’t have to explain unnecessary steps. In summary, Han Ji-soo, you’re an excellent bed partner.” 

“So… are you making this offer because I’m easy to handle?” 

“Not only for that reason, but partly, yes.” 

Tae-ha had offered this honest reply thinking it would comfort her, but instead, Ji-soo’s expression turned even paler than before. Within the boundaries of the relationship she had defined—a casual arrangement devoid of deeper connections—he stopped short, careful not to overstep. 

“Let go of my hand. I’m tired and want to go inside to rest.”

Tae-ha released the small, trembling fist from his grip. Ji-soo, her lips quivering as if she had more to say, clutched her bag tightly. 

“Then I'll head inside first. The alley is narrow and dark, so please drive carefully.” 

With a polite bow, Ji-soo ended her farewell and stepped out of the car. Though the narrow, descending alley seemed perilous, Tae-ha decided against escorting her all the way to her door. Instead, he pressed the ignition button. 

When Ji-soo reached the middle of the staircase, she turned back. In the darkness, two red taillights grew smaller and fainter in the distance. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, every trace of Tae-ha had vanished completely from this shabby neighborhood. 

And yet, Ji-soo felt as though the blinking lights still lingered here, like the imprints of him left on her body—though she knew they were gone. 

Her steps toward home felt heavier and more desolate than usual. The lonely, dark atmosphere of the neighborhood only deepened her melancholy. Perhaps it was because moving day was approaching, but even the one-room apartment she had always wanted to leave felt strangely welcoming today. And the source of that unexpected warmth awaited her at the entrance: a paper bag containing a lunchbox hung from the doorknob. 

She immediately knew who had left it. There was only one gimbap shop near the office—not in this neighborhood—that she had ever praised for its delicious food. That gimbap had always been brought to her by Eun-ho. 

It seemed he had left it yesterday, not today—a Sunday. Likely after she had unilaterally canceled their movie plans with him. 

“Even if you’re working late, you need to eat. This is 'Bulgeun Gimbap'—it’ll give you a boost of energy!” 

Eun-ho’s voice echoed in her mind, explaining how the spicy bulgogi and sugar-cured lotus root inside made it “Bulgeun Gimbap.” While the dish might energize people, it couldn’t withstand the sweltering summer heat. Ji-soo tossed the spoiled-smelling gimbap into the trash and collapsed onto her bed, exhausted. 

As she stared blankly at the clock, she thought about sending Eun-ho a text to thank him. Her hand fumbled around the headboard until she picked up her phone. 

“Has he arrived home by now?” 

Though she wondered about Tae-ha’s well-being, recalling his earlier words sent a dull ache through her chest. 

The boundaries of their relationship had been clear from the start. It was her own fault for crossing that line, harboring expectations and fluttering feelings for Tae-ha, who had acted purely on instinct over the past two days. 

“I am Cha Tae-ha’s… excellent bed partner.” 

Ji-soo muttered, mimicking his tone. A relationship where she belonged solely to him—at night, in bed. 

Now she didn’t understand why her heart ached so much, even though she had transitioned from a distant, one-sided love to becoming his close partner. Had she secretly hoped for something deeper? Like lovers or spouses? 

Staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes, Ji-soo let out a bitter laugh. She had always prided herself on knowing her place and understanding her limits—but perhaps she had been wrong. The mere suggestion of a sleeping-only arrangement felt like it was slowly gnawing away at her decade-long crush. 

If she accepted his proposal, she’d remain his sex partner. If she rejected it, she’d preserve him as her first love in memory. Thinking about it this way made her decision feel simpler, easier. Rising from the bed, Ji-soo opened the phone she had been clutching. With the last bit of battery life remaining, she decided to use it to send her reply to Tae-ha. 

[This is Han Ji-soo. I regret to inform you that I must decline your proposal.] 

The moment she pressed the send button, the phone, drained of its final charge, powered off automatically.