SELA - 19

“I didn’t know you were the type to make friends easily.”

Startled by the sudden comment, Sa-hee turned to look at Ji-hyuk. He too shifted his gaze from the window to meet hers. Their eyes locked briefly.

“You should at least get to know someone before going that far, don’t you think?”

Sa-hee paused, realizing he was referring to the earlier incident with the man. A small sigh escaped her lips.

“It was just an accident while discussing the artwork.”

“An accident.”

“Yes.”

“The kind where your wrist gets grabbed.”

“That…”

Ji-hyuk’s piercing gaze bore into her for a moment before he deliberately turned back toward the window—a clear indication that the conversation was over.

For some reason, Sa-hee’s mouth felt dry. She moistened her lips and followed his lead, gazing out the window. The asphalt, slick from the afternoon rain, gleamed black under the streetlights, and the taillights of cars glowed red in the distance. Beyond them, the towering skyscrapers stood like luminous pillars against the night sky.

Was it just her imagination, or did he seem upset? If so, why?

Glancing sideways, Sa-hee caught sight of Ji-hyuk’s sharp profile. Sneaking a peek at the face she had missed, she quickly looked away when a fleeting thought startled her. Could it be possible that he harbored feelings for her?

Taking a deep breath, Sa-hee steadied herself once more. It was dangerous to entertain such naive hopes. She couldn’t afford to reopen old wounds—not after everything that had happened. Repeating the same mistakes wasn’t an option.

With that realization, the heat in her chest began to cool, settling into calm resolve.

________________________________________

The sleek sedan came to a stop in front of a narrow alleyway.

“Thank you for lending me your jacket, Director Ji-hyuk.”

“It’s fine. Just keep wearing it.”

Caught off guard by his unexpected response, Sa-hee hesitated briefly before replying politely.

“My place is right here. I’ll be okay.”

“Yoon Sa-hee.”

“Yes?”

“Can you stop saying ‘it’s fine’ all the time?”

At first glance, his expression seemed as indifferent as ever, but Sa-hee could tell—he was slightly irritated. Watching the faint crack in his composure, she wet her lips and responded immediately.

“I apologize. I’ll correct myself.”

After a moment of silence, during which he offered no reply, Sa-hee stepped out of the car.

“Goodnight, Director Ji-hyuk.”

She bowed respectfully, ensuring not to forget proper etiquette.

“Drive safely.”

His unreadable gaze lingered on her for a moment before he drove off without another word. Standing there, Sa-hee watched the taillights of his car disappear into the distance, still draped in his jacket.

Trudging slowly toward the entrance of her building, she raised her hand to enter the security code.

Beep, beep, beep. As she pressed each button, an eerie sensation prickled the back of her neck.

“…”

Her finger froze mid-air. Though trembling, she knew she had to turn around and check. Steeling herself, Sa-hee took a deep breath. One, two, three—on three, she would turn. One… two…

“Aah—!”

Before she could finish counting, a hand clamped down on the back of her neck, causing her to collapse onto the spot.

“I’m hungry…”

“What?”

“Feed me…”

The voice sounded familiar. Looking up, Sa-hee saw a face she knew well—her close friend, Joo-ri.

“Come inside. How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long. But I’m starving. Can we eat first?”

“Sure. I only have instant noodles. Is that okay?”

“Perfect, thank you.”

Dragging Joo-ri, who resembled limp seaweed, Sa-hee laid her on the bed and hurried to prepare dinner. Left alone, Joo-ri might have collapsed entirely, so feeding her became the priority.

“Ugh…”

Joo-ri writhed on the bed, emitting strange, unintelligible sounds. Sa-hee checked on her periodically while setting the table.

“The noodles are ready! Eat up!”

At the mention of food, Joo-ri sprang up like a ghost. A modest spread of kimchi, side dishes, and ramen awaited her. Despite its simplicity, Joo-ri devoured it with gusto.

Sa-hee sat across from her, keeping her company with light conversation.

“By the way, whose jacket is that?”

“Hmm? Oh, this.”

“Let me see. Wow, this is a high-end brand. Whose is it? Tell me.”

With food in her stomach, Joo-ri regained her usual energy and nosiness. Snatching the jacket from Sa-hee, her eyes widened upon inspecting the tag.

“Director Ji-hyuk?”

“Director? Your boss? Why are you wearing his clothes? Did you sleep together?”

“No! Why does everyone jump to that conclusion?”

Flustered, Joo-ri scratched her ear and quickly lost interest.

“When men and women exchange clothes, it usually means sex, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not like that. Something happened—I spilled something on my blouse, so he lent it to me.”

“Oh. That’s disappointingly boring.”

“Sorry. Not much drama there.”

Crisp kimchi crunched between Joo-ri’s teeth as she slurped down the broth, exhaling contentedly before setting the pot aside.

“Anyway, why are you here?”

Sa-hee asked. Already drowsy from eating, Joo-ri yawned widely.

“I left home.”

“So why’d you leave? Your mom wouldn’t kick you out—well, actually, she might.”

“This time, I left on my own. Didn’t want to attend another gut ritual.”

Though casually spoken, the weight of her struggles was evident. Her once-plump cheeks had hollowed significantly.

“What will you do? Isn’t resisting those rituals painful?”

“I’ll endure as long as I can.”

Her carefree smile masked any lingering worries.

“Mind if I stay here for a few days?”

“Stay as long as you need.”

“Thanks. I’ll repay you someday.”

“That’d be nice.”

Sa-hee teased with a laugh, easing Joo-ri’s tension. They hadn’t seen each other in person for a while, though they often spoke on the phone. Catching up late into the night, their chatter eventually slowed as fatigue set in.

Retreating to bed, the two lay back-to-back. The warmth of another person’s presence felt foreign yet comforting.

“Hey, Sa-hee.”

A voice called from behind.

“Yeah?”

“Something feels off.”

“What do you mean?”

“I sense a strange energy from you. Like you’re neither alive nor fully present.”

Sa-hee flinched. Had Joo-ri somehow sensed her secret? Her heart raced uneasily.

“…You’re talking nonsense. Go to sleep.”

Rebuked, Joo-ri sniffed loudly.

“Right? Stupid talk. Must be because I’ve been praying too much lately.”

“Just sleep.”

“You too. Make money and feed me.”

“Goodnight.”

“You too. Sleep well.”

Soon, Joo-ri’s soft snores filled the room. Yet Sa-hee remained awake, her mind racing with unresolved tension. Quietly rising, she slipped into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of cold water.

What would happen if someone discovered she had traveled from the future? Strangely, she had never worried about her identity until now. Perhaps she had grown complacent.

Gulping down the icy liquid, she tried to quell her unease. Yet, despite the chill soothing her insides, her troubled thoughts refused to settle.

________________________________________

“Good morning!”

Early the next day, Na-yeon burst into Ji-hyuk’s office, interrupting his briefing session with Sa-hee.

“What brings you here?”

“What else? Work.”

“Work?”

Ji-hyuk’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Na-yeon grinned knowingly, holding up her camera.

“For the company anniversary special issue. I’m handling the photos. Smile!”

Click. Without permission, she started snapping pictures. Ji-hyuk stared icily, unmoving.

“Stop.”

“Why so grumpy? I’m working here. And even ‘Uncle’—”

“Use proper titles at work.”

“Fine! So picky. I already got approval from the CEO, so cooperate quietly.”

Perching herself on his desk, she leaned in close with the camera.

“Let’s capture that handsome face of yours.”

Through the viewfinder, Ji-hyuk’s exasperated expression came into focus. His signature aloofness paired with a hint of irritation made for an intriguing shot.

“Jang Na-yeon. Stop.”

His eyes, wide and feline-like, seemed bottomless—as if inviting endless contemplation.