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If Hee-soo had ever possessed a heart, it had long been abandoned, broken and left to rust. It no longer raced for anyone; it simply lay still, discarded.
But with Jae-hyuk’s confession, it began to beat wildly on its own—almost as if it had been waiting all along.
Thump-thump. The sound reverberating through her body was the creaking movement of a heart that had lain dormant for so long.
The sensation startled her. Her heart, which she hadn’t even realized existed, now throbbed so violently that her knees gave out beneath her.
“Ah...”
Her hand instinctively reached for Jae-hyuk’s shoulder to steady herself. As she tried to pull away quickly, Jae-hyuk caught her.
“Just stay still for a moment.”
“Uh, um...”
Her hesitation lasted only briefly before Jae-hyuk’s lips gently landed on her forehead. The unfamiliar touch mingled with his familiar scent, leaving her dizzy and disoriented.
Soon after, his hair brushed lightly against her burning cheeks. Slowly, Hee-soo’s body leaned into his embrace.
With their hearts pounding in unison, they remained frozen in an awkward but tender embrace for what felt like an eternity.
In that moment, Jae-hyuk had fully opened Hee-soo’s heart.
---
Unfortunately, despite Jae-hyuk’s sacrifice, the bullying did not end.
Under Lee Jung-chul’s protection, the girls who had left the ballet troupe gradually returned. Their collective torment grew more persistent and cunning.
“Why don’t you go tattle again? Look at you, someone with no talent, flaunting your face around like you’re something special.”
The taunts intensified.
Fearing Jae-hyuk might intervene again, Hee-soo pretended to be fine—even more so than before. She acted as though nothing had happened.
It was a necessary burden to prevent Jae-hyuk from putting himself in danger again.
Contrary to Kim Po-dae’s trembling warnings, the terrifying Chairman Lee never came for Hee-soo. But she knew that if Jung-chul suspected their relationship again, he wouldn’t show mercy a second time.
Creating more trouble would endanger not only her but also Jae-hyuk. He would undoubtedly rush in once more to punish those who tormented her.
So Hee-soo feigned strength. She smiled through the pain, pretending everything was fine in front of Jae-hyuk.
This was the only way she knew to protect him.
Pretending wasn’t difficult. Though it saddened her that Jae-hyuk was the only person she could ever be honest with—and now even that was gone—she told herself it was okay.
Hee-soo had always believed life was something to endure alone. Everything had merely returned to square one. She consoled herself this way.
And when she thought about it, things were better than before. Jae-hyuk was still by her side, and that made all the difference—a gap as vast as heaven and earth compared to the past.
Even if she couldn’t stand beside him as a lover and had to maintain a clear boundary, she thought it was for the best. Being like family, or a younger sibling, for the rest of their lives was enough.
She believed this was the only way to preserve their connection.
Whatever form it took, the fact that he stayed by her side—that alone made her happy enough.
She was willing to endure anything for that.
Later, when Jae-hyuk confessed to her again after she had come of age, she felt an overwhelming joy inside. It was one of the happiest moments of her life.
Though she resented having to reject him yet again, she convinced herself it was alright. To her, rejection wasn’t the end of their relationship—it was the beginning.
As long as she could remain by Jae-hyuk’s side, that was enough.
But when she was alone after leaving his house, Hee-soo realized something: she could never truly be satisfied with just that.
She missed him. Longed for him. The frustration of being unable to express her feelings weighed heavily on her heart.
When she saw Jae-hyuk’s face during his leave, all the longing she had suppressed burst forth uncontrollably.
Hee-soo allowed herself to be a little greedier. She hoped that even after he completed his military service—and even if she could no longer stay by his side—there would be something to bind them together for life.
That first, clumsy, and exhilarating night of theirs unfolded in this way.
Abandonment was a recurring theme in Hee-soo’s life. Her parents disappeared the moment she was born, and her adoptive parents practically discarded her. In her miserable existence, Jae-hyuk had been the only one to reach out and hold her hand.
Yet Hee-soo believed that even Jae-hyuk would one day leave her, just like everyone else.
Emotions, after all, were not something she could rely on.
When she confirmed her pregnancy, her joy outweighed her fear.
She believed it marked a turning point in their relationship.
Even if Lee Jung-chul cast her aside, even if Yoon Ji-sun looked down on her, having a child could change everything.
She believed that a baby—not fleeting emotions—would solidify their bond. A relationship anchored by a child would be unshakable, something neither Ji-sun nor Jung-chul could destroy.
But when she lost the baby, Hee-soo felt she had nothing left. She believed the last thread binding Jae-hyuk to her had vanished.
It had all been a fleeting hope.
Family, love—these were all empty hopes that something would fill the void within her.
Along with the loss of her child, Hee-soo buried everything about Jae-hyuk deep in the sands of time.
She tried not to remember the painful ending. Perhaps she even wanted to erase the memory of her pregnancy entirely, as if it had never happened.
If she could excise only the painful and sorrowful memories, she thought she might preserve Jae-hyuk as a tender first love from her youth—a beautiful, cherished memory.
This would be possible if she never saw him again.
Then there would be no need to dig up the past, no need to relive the heart-wrenching conclusion, and no reason to speak of it ever again.
After losing the baby, what Hee-soo longed for was the Jae-hyuk of the past—the one who existed only in her memories, infinitely gentle and devoted solely to her.
This was the best choice Hee-soo could make, given that she had never learned to trust others or experienced being truly loved in her lifetime.
---
Kwon Chae-won showed no intention of leaving anytime soon.
After moving to the Sky Lounge, they had already emptied a few cocktails. Still unsatisfied, she ordered whiskey and had already consumed half the bottle.
Most women would have passed out and gone home by now, but Chae-won stubbornly held on.
“…Jae-hyuk oppa, I think I’m feelin’ kinda dizzy…”
Of course, her slurred speech was barely intelligible as she babbled on.
Jae-hyuk watched indifferently as Chae-won, like a snake twisting its body, leaned over the bar counter, her upper body drooping limply.
Come to think of it, Baek Dong-hwan used to down two or three bottles of liquor in one sitting too. Birds of a feather, indeed.
They could have been considered an impressive drinking couple.
Jae-hyuk felt a twinge of regret that they had broken up. Dong-hwan had ventured into the liquor business, and if Chae-won had known earlier, she probably wouldn’t have ended things.
“Miss Kwon, you seem quite drunk. Let’s get you up.”
Jae-hyuk gently removed the glass from Chae-won’s wavering hand.
“Until now… you kept calling me ‘Miss Kwon.’ Call me ‘Chae-won’ affectionately… Chae-won-ah…”
Chae-won swayed her upper body back and forth like a venomous snake emerging from a jar before collapsing toward Jae-hyuk.
Thud.
Fortunately, Jae-hyuk had swiftly risen from his seat, so Chae-won’s body slid off the empty space and plummeted vertically to the floor.
“Haaah… It hurts…”
Chae-won lay sprawled at Jae-hyuk’s feet, writhing weakly, but he didn’t lift a finger to help. Moments later, two men in suits and a woman entered the lounge.
“Excuse me, are you Vice President Lee Jae-hyuk?”
The group quickly approached after recognizing him. The woman at the front handed Jae-hyuk her business card.
Upon confirming that they were from Assemblyman Kwon Sam-soo’s office, Jae-hyuk handed over his own card and gestured toward Chae-won, who was still collapsed on the floor.
“If she were conscious, I would have escorted her home myself, but I feared it might cause misunderstandings, so I contacted Assemblyman Kwon directly.”
“Oh no, please don’t worry. The assemblyman deeply regrets the inconvenience caused and asked me to convey his apologies. We’re very sorry, Vice President.”
Given that they had sent an aide in the middle of the night, it was clear how flustered Assemblyman Kwon must have been upon receiving Jae-hyuk’s call. The woman’s business card indicated she was no mere low-ranking secretary.
“Jae-hyuk oppaaa… Let’s meet again soon, okay? One more shot? Kyaa!”
Even in her drunken stupor, Chae-won flirted with Jae-hyuk, winking cutely despite her arms being supported by others. Her entourage squirmed uncomfortably, clearly embarrassed by her behavior.
“Alright.”
Jae-hyuk gave a curt nod and walked past the group supporting Chae-won, heading toward the elevator.
Just one floor below, Seo Hee-soo awaited him in the suite.
By tomorrow morning, news of his meeting with Chae-won would be circulating. Jae-hyuk intended to use this to shake Hee-soo slightly, hoping to loosen her lips.
The elevator seemed agonizingly slow. Ding. The bell rang, and after stepping out onto the lower floor, Jae-hyuk walked calmly toward the room.
Tch. Swiping the card and entering, he saw Hee-soo asleep on the sofa.
“…Mmm…”
Hee-soo seemed to be dreaming, her cheeks flushed and her expression soft and distant.
Her delicate forehead curved gracefully, framed by fine pencil-like eyebrows. Long, thick lashes rested gently on her cheeks.
Her sleeping face was exactly as he remembered it in his dreams.