Chapter 9.2

Jung Cho-ah, who noticed them a step later than Su-eon, flared up with anger.

“What the hell are they? Did they really meet for a marriage arrangement?”

Suddenly, Seung-jo’s gaze turned toward them. Su-eon spun around and went back into the restroom.

“Unnie, what’s wrong? Where are you going?”

Following the retreating Su-eon, Jung Cho-ah asked. Su-eon grabbed her arm tightly. Her fingertips began to tremble slightly. The body that had remained unaffected even after being hit with wine, the composed expression she had maintained even after seeing Hye-jin again, all began to crumble, one by one. Like a dam breaking, everything spiraled out of control in an instant.

Startled, Jung Cho-ah grabbed Su-eon’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong, Unnie? Are you hurt? Is it because your eyes still sting?”

“Cho-ah.”

“…Unnie?”

“Please, take me home.”

“…”

“I want to go home.”

“…”

“I don’t want to show this side of me to anyone. To anyone.”

Su-eon spoke calmly. She made a request. Her blotchy body trembled like an aspen tree, and even her voice wavered terribly, but her gaze remained calm. Jung Cho-ah’s face crumpled with emotion.

The torrential rain that had started pouring since the car set off now fiercely pounded on the roof. Inside the car heading back, Jung Cho-ah continued to cry. The same person who didn’t flinch even when Ki Seon-young hurled all kinds of insults now sniffled like a child.

“I’m sorry, Unnie. It’s my fault.”

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t Jung Cho-ah’s fault. Unrealistic events like today’s were, surprisingly, frequent guests in this world. People with money often became arrogant, behaving without regard for others. That’s why people like Su-eon existed—to endure and clean up such messes.

But Su-eon didn’t comfort Jung Cho-ah as she usually would, nor did she say it wasn’t her fault. She no longer knew how to rationalize the bright yet irritating kind of burdens she had to bear. Her already overflowing reservoir couldn’t hold any more humiliation.

All she felt was disgust.

***

When the car stopped in Bukchon, Su-eon walked straight to her home without looking back. She rejected Jung Cho-ah’s attempts to follow with a quiet glance. Jung Cho-ah’s voice, spilling out incessant apologies, felt distant.

After shampooing her hair multiple times to rid herself of the wine smell that had seeped into her scalp, Su-eon changed clothes and took a taxi to Seung-jo’s hanok. Taking advantage of the thinning rain, she placed her locked suitcase outside and sat in the yard, waiting for him to come.

Time passed as rainwater trickled down the roof tiles and formed puddles on the ground. By the time dusk had completely fallen, and Su-eon stood up, ready to leave, the main gate opened.

Seung-jo, stepping into the dimly lit house with only the stone lantern illuminating the yard, stopped when he saw Su-eon standing in front of the wooden veranda.

“Why are you out here in the rain?”

Sensing something unusual, his gaze shifted to the suitcase Su-eon had placed outside. His steps quickened as he approached. Seung-jo grabbed Su-eon’s shoulders and moved her to the innermost spot under the eaves, shielding her from the rain as he looked at her.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone while you were at home?”

Still keeping his eyes on the suitcase, Seung-jo asked. Only then did Su-eon realize how quiet her world had been. She had walked out with nothing but her wallet in hand.

“…I left my phone at home.”

“At home?”

Seung-jo frowned, narrowing his eyes, as if repeating a strange word.

“You went to Bukchon?”

“I… I’ve decided to go back home now.”

Seung-jo alternated his gaze between Su-eon’s calm face and the suitcase before quietly brushing his hand over his lips. Meanwhile, the pouring rain continued to soak his shoulders.

“What does this mean?”

There were plenty of excuses she could have used: she needed to prepare for the move, she couldn’t stay here forever, and so on. But Su-eon didn’t say any of those things. She vaguely sensed that no matter what reason she gave, this man wouldn’t accept it.

“I want to stop this, Senior.”

“Why?”

The moment he saw the suitcase, Seung-jo seemed to have already guessed what was happening. His quiet question carried no emotion, and his expression remained unreadable. The night air, chilled by the rain, froze in an instant, heavily enveloping their faces. The now heavier raindrops fell fiercely, filling the silence.

[Don’t even think about climbing trees you can’t reach. It’s beneath you. ]  

[Don’t tell me you actually think you can enter our family?]  

Jung Cho-ah, who had once been the most impressive person in Su-eon’s world in terms of words like that, had heard such words. If even she was treated that way, then what words would be thrown at Su-eon? No matter what they said, Su-eon wouldn’t be deeply hurt. But her father was different.  

The people who belittled even Assemblywoman Yeo—how much more would they look down on Su-eon and her father? If they targeted her father, if something like what happened in her childhood were to happen again, Su-eon didn’t think she could endure it.  

That was why she decided to stop. To protect her father and herself. She couldn’t go any further. A man, love—what were those things worth, to endure such humiliation?  

“Ji Su-eon.”  

“I don’t want to be with you anymore, Senior.”  

“Why?”  

Seung-jo’s light response was followed by a sharp gaze that pierced Su-eon’s face. As the silence stretched, Su-eon felt as though his eyes were digging deep into her soul.  

“There must be a reason for this sudden change.”  

Su-eon suddenly recalled the throbbing pain she had felt just a few hours ago. The suffocating tightness in her chest, the fiery emotions that made it hard to breathe. It was something she never wanted to experience again—jealousy.  

It was as if darkness paved a path inside her heart, illuminated by fire, which then flared up like flames, threatening to consume everything. The moment she realized that, Su-eon was shocked. It was almost like fear. She had unknowingly let this man into the deepest parts of her being, and that realization terrified her.  

That’s why it was better to end it now. While she could still wrap it up with a relatively composed expression.  

“I just realized that my feelings… only go this far.”  

Seung-jo froze, his sharp eyes boring into Su-eon’s. His usual calm face betrayed a faint trace of displeasure and anger, as he silently tried to read her emotions.  

His gaze extended like an invisible barrier, scanning Su-eon’s face, which was mixed with fatigue and determination, as if pressing down on her.  

“Were you… there earlier today?”  

As if there could be no other explanation, Seung-jo asked.  

“Were you?”  

“……”  

“Su-eon.”  

Caught off guard by his question, Su-eon couldn’t answer. She slowly blinked, her confusion evident on her face. She couldn’t hide her troubled expression. The image of Seung-jo standing with Park Hye-jin flashed in her mind. No matter how much she tried not to think about it, it painfully resurfaced.  

The kind of person who matched their level, as described by Ki Seon-young. That was something Su-eon could never achieve or reach.  

“I stopped by on my way home from work. I heard about what happened today.”  

Seung-jo’s voice softened slightly as he spoke.  

“I didn’t know you were there too.”  

Of course. That must have been the case. He must have been reported on it briefly. Ji Su-eon wasn’t an important person, so she wouldn’t have been included in that report. It all made perfect sense. She felt like she understood everything, even without any further explanation. And that was why it couldn’t be allowed.  

Because she didn’t want to understand. Not even a little.  

Su-eon pretended not to hear his words and calmly began to speak.  

“Chief Jung and Director Ki Seon-young have similar personalities. So, they clashed a bit, but it wasn’t anything significant.”  

Seung-jo’s sharp gaze pierced into Su-eon’s face.  

“You expect me to believe that?”  

“Yes.”  

Su-eon answered immediately, her expression indifferent. Her eyes, completely shutting off her true feelings like a wall, caused Seung-jo’s face to harden—or rather, to twist.  

“You… Could it be… Are you…”  

“Senior.”  

Su-eon called out to him, her eyes fixed on the puddle where a zinnia petal, fallen with the rain, lay submerged in muddy water.  

“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to talk anymore.”  

A silence fell between them. The surrounding noise faded, and even the deafening sound of the torrential rain seemed to grow faint. Everything seemed to lose its energy and light, overwhelmed by the tension between them.  

Seung-jo closed his eyes for a moment and let out a deep breath. When he opened them again, he had returned to his perfectly composed self. Although his gaze, fixed on Su-eon, still burned intensely, he no longer showed any outward emotional reaction.  

“I understand what you mean.”  

When he finally broke the silence, Seung-jo’s voice was icy enough to send a chill down one’s spine.  

“Let’s leave it at that.”  

His quick acceptance brought Su-eon an odd sense of relief. She was simply glad that she no longer had to confront him, look at him, or deal with this situation any longer.  

Perhaps that relief showed on her face because Seung-jo looked at her with an expression devoid of warmth.  

“For now, I’ll let you go because it feels like you’re running away. You look like you’ve decided not to listen to a single word I’ll say anyway.”  

His cold voice cut through the air, succinctly explaining the situation while making it clear to Su-eon that this wasn’t the end.  

“So, when you feel like hearing what I have to say, you come to me first.”