MHD - 16

Jung-chul clicked his tongue as he looked at his son with a mixture of pity and disdain. 

“Didn’t she say anything to you?” 

“I did wonder if something was wrong since she stopped responding to my calls.” 

“You naive fool.” 

Clicking his tongue again, Jung-chul chuckled bitterly. 

“Men go through heartbreak at least once in their lives. First loves are never meant to last, you know. They say a man’s first love is unforgettable, but that’s all nonsense.” 

As Jung-chul rambled on, downing glass after glass of soju, Jae-hyuk stared at him blankly. 

At first glance, it was hard to believe—or perhaps impossible to accept. 

Yes, it was utterly unbelievable and something that should never have happened. 

After that day, for ten years, Jae-hyuk had been trapped in the prison of words his father had locked away. 

He wanted to meet her and hear it directly from her lips. Even if it were true, he wanted to hear her explain herself—any explanation, even if it were riddled with lies. 

He desperately wished she would bring it up first. If she did, maybe then he could resolve the part of him that couldn’t let go, even after hearing that she had demanded money in exchange for staying away—a foolish, lovesick part of himself. 

If his father had lied, that would be even better. If it were all just manipulation, then there wouldn’t have been any reason for her to avoid him so thoroughly. 

Either way, whether it was self-blame or justification, he felt he needed some kind of resolution to free himself from Seo Hee-soo. 

If none of that had happened, then at the very least, she owed him an explanation for why she had avoided him for the past ten years. 

That was the least she could do, he thought, as someone who had once shared feelings of affection with him. 

And yet, to him, she had said: 

“…Back then, I had no choice.” 

Those were the words he’d waited ten years to hear. 

Barely, just that. Such meaningless words. 

“Haa…” 

After his father’s death, Jae-hyuk buried both his father’s words and Seo Hee-soo deep in his heart. He tried to forget. He resolved that if she treated him like he was invisible, he would do the same to her. 

Sometimes, it felt as though a cold blade was slicing through his chest, but he would only furrow his brow for a moment before moving on. 

Whether it was manipulation or something else, the person who had relayed those words was already gone from this world. So, how much better it would have been if Hee-soo had simply denied it all, even with a lie. 

“…Back then, I had no choice.” 

His brain felt broken. 

Hee-soo’s words kept clawing through his mind, endlessly looping like a broken radio. 

How bold of her. 

In other words, wasn’t she essentially saying, “You’re right—I asked for money”? 

Then why did she look at him with such wounded eyes? 

No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been used. Anger surged within him, sometimes making him feel like he couldn’t breathe. Yet, no matter how much he ground his teeth and shook with rage, her presence kept haunting him. 

The warmth of her body pressed against his, the scent of her skin tickling his nose, the sound of her voice slipping from her parted lips—it all kept replaying in his mind. 

It was maddening. He felt like he was losing his mind. 

Thud. 

Jae-hyuk set down the pen he had been holding and roughly closed the documents he was supposed to approve.

“What?” 

Oh Seung-joo, who had been standing nearby, startled at Jae-hyuk’s sudden outburst and cautiously asked him. But Jae-hyuk only let out a cold, bitter smile without answering. Then, he sighed deeply once more. 

Oh Seung-joo felt uneasy. 

In the past few days, Jae-hyuk had been acting strangely—muttering to himself and then laughing bitterly, as if he were losing his mind. 

The sight of his furrowed brows paired with a faintly upturned smirk sent chills down Oh Seung-joo’s spine. With Jae-hyuk’s sharp features, the contradictory expressions on his face only made him look even more unsettling. 

“Uh, Vice Chairman?” 

When Oh Seung-joo cautiously tried again, Jae-hyuk finally turned to face him directly. 

“Oh, Mr. Oh.” 

Picking up a report from the desk with a frown, Jae-hyuk suddenly shifted back to his usual composed demeanor and asked, “How is the preparation for the 3-nanometer process coming along? Do you think we’ll be able to unveil it at next month’s technology forum?” 

“Ah.” 

Jae-hyuk was now back to his usual self, firing off sharp questions. Oh Seung-joo quickly opened the tablet in his hand and read out the schedule he had noted earlier. 

“The equipment delivery is expected to be delayed, so full-scale production will have to be pushed back. However, we should still be able to prepare everything in time for the technology forum and make the announcement without any issues.” 

Gangrim Electronics was fiercely competing with Chinese companies for the top spots in semiconductor technology. 

After Yoon Ji-sun took over as chairman, the company had faced criticism for its lack of major technological innovation. Now, all eyes in the industry—and within the group—were on Jae-hyuk, who had recently taken the helm. 

Every day, economic articles predicting stock movements ahead of the upcoming technology forum in the U.S. were flooding in. 

There was no time to waste on unnecessary thoughts. Hee-soo? She was completely irrelevant to him now—or so Jae-hyuk told himself. 

“This is our chance to make a strong impression, so let’s make sure everything is prepared properly.” 

After signing the documents he had previously closed, Jae-hyuk handed them over to Oh Seung-joo, who accepted them with a satisfied expression. 

“Ah, Vice Chairman. Did you see it? The list of models being considered as the new face of our electronics division?” 

“Just a moment.” 

Jae-hyuk rummaged through a pile of papers stacked on one side of his desk and pulled out a report. 

“Who’s our current model? Jin Yuna?” 

“Yes. Jin Yuna’s exclusive modeling contract is about to expire. There’s been some debate about whether to renew it or hire a new model.” 

“True, continuing with Jin Yuna might not align with the company’s current image.” 

“At next week’s planning team meeting, you’ll hear more about this, but we’ve already narrowed down a few candidates.” 

As Jae-hyuk skimmed through the report, his eyes suddenly stopped at a name in the middle of the document. 

Seo Hee-soo 

Hee-soo’s name was boldly listed among the candidates. 

Damn it. 

Without realizing it, Jae-hyuk swallowed a curse. If there was a god, he was surely mocking him now. 

Watching closely, Oh Seung-joo cautiously probed, “Is… something wrong?” 

Oh Seung-joo’s gaze darted nervously between the document on the desk and Jae-hyuk’s deeply furrowed brow. 

With visible effort to suppress his anger, Jae-hyuk asked in a low voice, “Why is the name of an actress who’s past her prime on this list?” 

“Ah… Well, according to Team Leader Cho…” 

Team Leader Cho, who was in charge of planning, was one of the talents Jae-hyuk highly regarded. Oh Seung-joo carefully mentioned Cho’s name while explaining why Hee-soo’s name had been included.

“Since she hasn’t been particularly active in recent years, it’s understandable to think that way. But because she’s been out of the spotlight for so long, her image hasn’t been tarnished either.” 

“Not ‘untarnished’—she’s just been forgotten.” 

Jae-hyuk’s inner desire to forget Hee-soo seeped through his words. However, completely unaware of this, Oh Seung-joo relayed Team Leader Cho’s opinion once again. 

“I expressed similar concerns to yours, Vice Chairman, but according to Team Leader Cho, her ranking has been gradually rising in recent image preference surveys. The analysis shows that the number of fans anticipating her comeback is slowly increasing.” 

“Hmm.” 

Just hearing the name Seo Hee-soo made Jae-hyuk uncharacteristically agitated. Sensing his emotions bubbling up, he tried to suppress them and focused on listening to Oh Seung-joo’s report. 

“She was once a rising star, and her image from back then aligns well with the new brand we’re launching now. I agree with that assessment. But if there’s anything about her that bothers you, please let me know.” 

“Bothers me, huh?” 

Unconsciously, Jae-hyuk’s lips curled into a bitter smile. 

The mere existence of Seo Hee-soo irritated him to no end, yet he couldn’t come up with a logical argument to counter it. 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll review this further. Isn’t there a quarterly meeting in ten minutes? Please prepare for it.” 

With a nod to Oh Seung-joo, Jae-hyuk quickly wrapped up the conversation in a businesslike tone. 

“Yes, sir,” Oh Seung-joo bowed respectfully and left the office. Afterward, Jae-hyuk stared at the report with Hee-soo’s name on it for a long while before letting out a deep sigh. 

Under normal circumstances, he had no trouble controlling himself with logical thinking. But when it came to Seo Hee-soo, nothing could rein him in. 

If that was the case, there was no other choice. He had to cut her out by force. 

Jae-hyuk tore out the section of the document containing Hee-soo’s name. Without a moment’s hesitation, he tossed it into the wastebasket under his desk. 

* * *

Time passed endlessly, indistinguishable between day and night. 

After the day she stepped out of the room, trampling over the money Jae-hyuk had thrown at her, Hee-soo fell into a deep malaise. Though she didn’t have a cold, her entire body ached as if she were suffering from a fever. 

Her temperature fluctuated, rising and falling repeatedly. Forgetting even to eat, Hee-soo spent several days lying in bed. She had always lacked motivation, but after meeting Jae-hyuk, her lethargy worsened. 

Hee-soo recalled a line from a book where the protagonist woke up one morning to find he had turned into a bug. Wishing she could disappear into the folds of her bed like a wilted snail, she simply killed time, curled up in a ball. 

In that position, she lay frozen for hours, staring blankly ahead. And she kept having the same dream—a scene of receiving a bouquet of lush, white lisianthus flowers, repeating over and over. 

It was likely a fragment of an old memory from a certain night when Swan Lake was performed. 

It was the night Jae-hyuk came to see her after the performance, holding an armful of pristine white lisianthus. The blushing boy shyly confessed as he handed her the bouquet. 

“I heard that for Princess Odette to be freed from the curse, she needs the unwavering love of one person.” 

Hee-soo wasn’t oblivious to the subtle feelings he was hinting at. 

“Yeah, it’s just a fairy tale.” 

Pretending not to notice, she accepted the bouquet, but Jae-hyuk added meaningfully, “I won’t change.” 

Hee-soo wasn’t used to such direct expressions of emotion. 

“...What are you talking about?” 

Trying to hide her flushed face, she buried it in the bouquet. 

As if he already knew everything about her hidden feelings, Jae-hyuk lightly laughed and gently took her hand in his. 

The warmth from his hand transferred to hers. The heat that started at her fingertips spread throughout her body, igniting a fiery warmth within her.