2.2

‘The doctor said it could’ve been a disaster. I hurt Leeseo. I can’t do this anymore. If I keep her with me, eventually, Leeseo… our Leeseo…’

Leeseo’s eyes snapped open.  

Even awake, her mother’s vivid voice lingered in her ears like an echo.  

She must have dozed off. The room was pitch dark. She had been reading an email…  

Fumbling beside her, she found her tablet. The thought struck her suddenly—she didn’t remember turning off the light.  

Biting her lip tightly, Leeseo glared into the darkness in front of her before abruptly sitting up. She reached out to the wall and pressed the switch her hand found.  

As light poured into the room, the objects around her came into view all at once. 

Stacks of books piled against the wall, an easel by the window, a box of painting tools, and an empty candy tin stuffed with brushes…  

A sigh of relief escaped her crimson lips.  

Even in her brief nap, she had dreamed. Or perhaps it wasn’t a dream—it felt confusing. Was it a memory or a dream?  

When she had first opened her eyes, the vivid remnants of the dream had been clear, but now they blurred, like a drop of ink spreading in a cup of water, leaving no distinct image behind. Only her mother’s voice lingered faintly as an aftertaste.  

The dream was likely triggered by the email she had read just before falling asleep. 

Turning on the tablet, its screen lit up brightly. The email window was still open.  

It was from a private investigator—what some might call a detective agency. The kind of place that discreetly followed people, captured moments of infidelity with telephoto lenses, and provided evidence for lawsuits.  

She had found the company while scouring the internet. They advertised services for collecting evidence for lawsuits and even locating estranged family members. They claimed to work with organized teams of agents, suggesting a highly professional system, but it didn’t seem to be anything of the sort. 

The email began with, ‘The details of your request are as follows,’ but no matter how many times she reread it, there was nothing hopeful in its contents.  

The lengthy email, equivalent to an A4-sized page, could be summarized in one sentence:  

‘Despite utilizing all possible connections and resources based on the information provided, we were unable to locate Ms. Yoon Heejeong’s whereabouts.’  

Even after painstakingly tracking down old electronics building that wasn’t even on navigation maps, it had all been for nothing. This was her third failure.  

In movies and dramas, they always seemed to find people easily, but reality was different. Everyone gave her the same excuse, word for word:  The information you provided is too lacking. 

Leeseo tossed the tablet onto her bed and left the room.  

The living room lights were brightly lit.  

Junmo was sitting on the couch, drinking a can of beer while watching TV.  

A Premier League soccer match was playing on the screen. The sound seemed to be muted, and the visuals felt oddly bland, like watered-down milk.  

“Want a beer?”  

Leeseo glanced at the clock displayed at the bottom of the TV screen.  

1:23 a.m.  

“Can’t sleep either?”  

“No, I’m just going to watch this match and then sleep.”  

He didn’t seem particularly interested in the game, but that’s what he said.  

“Liar.”  

Junmo let out a dry laugh, his eyes fixed on the silent TV.  

“Did you turn off the light in my room?”  

Leeseo sat down next to him on the couch, pulling her legs up and resting her knees in front of her.  

“Yeah.”  

Leeseo took the beer can from his hand and sipped it. 

Junmo watched her quietly before grabbing another can from the table. He hooked his finger into the tab and opened it smoothly.  

Then, he handed the freshly opened beer to Leeseo and took back the one she had been drinking from.  

Leeseo sipped from the cold, dew-covered can.  

“Beer is still alcohol.”  

Junmo spoke in a warning tone. He tried to recall the last time he had seen Leeseo drink alcohol. It wasn’t that she didn’t drink—it was that she couldn’t. Even half a glass of beer would leave her face, hands, neck, and even the soles of her feet flushed red.  

“Look at you. Don’t come crying later, saying you can’t breathe.”  

Without a word, Leeseo tilted her head back and drank.  

“Why are you acting so out of character?”  

“I decided to live doing everything I want, not just the things I have to do. Making mistakes, doing bad things, and regretting them, too.”  

She placed the empty can on the table with a sharp clink as she answered.  

“Bad things?”  

The mention of “bad things” brought back the shock of what had happened in the hospital elevator. It had been bothering him all along, even though he hadn’t wanted to admit it.  

“Does the CEO know you’re staying here? Does Gu Junhyung know? I wonder how they’d react if they found out. Just imagining it gives me a thrill.”  

Junmo frowned, placing his can down. The soccer match on TV, devoid of the crowd’s cheers or the anchor’s excited voice, had entered the second half.  

“What are you thinking, doing all this?”  

“I told you, I’m just living as I please.”  

“Was that why you went to my brother’s hospital room in the middle of the night? Judging by the condom found in the room, you seem to have done something shameless. Spending the day at my house and the night in his hospital room—must’ve been exhilarating. Playing with two brothers in the palm of your hand.”  

Leeseo simply stared at him, her expression unreadable, as though she wanted to ask, ‘Do you really believe that?’ 

It struck her that sometimes, when you’re too shocked, words fail you.  

Yes, this was exactly how Gu Junmo operated. Junhyung was ambitious, while Junmo was cynical. Even in their methods, the brothers were distinctly different.  

Though rude and crude, Junmo’s approach was far better than being sly. At least this way, she could explain herself if she wanted to. That’s probably why he was acting this way—to provoke her into explaining.  

But what could she do? She didn’t want to explain.  

Three years ago, she couldn’t explain even if she had wanted to. But now, she simply didn’t feel like it.  

Her heart ached, beating irregularly, and she felt like crying. Perhaps the alcohol coursing through her veins was triggering some sort of reaction.  

Leeseo took a deep breath. Repeating the motion a few times, her rapid breathing gradually calmed. The frustration that had been rising to her throat also subsided.  

But how had he found out about her visit to the hospital room in the middle of the night?  

It couldn’t have been Park Sujin.  

If Park Sujin had told him, he wouldn’t have such a skewed understanding of the situation.  

Could Junhyung have manipulated things again, like three years ago? 

Back then, Junhyung had claimed he was doing it all for Junmo and for her.  

“You should’ve let me play with you first before saying something like that. You don’t even realize, do you? You have a knack for making people feel small.” 

Leeseo blinked slowly, forcing a smile.  

Junmo’s face showed a mixture of wariness and confusion. There was something about her expression that made him feel guilty.  

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to sleep with me. If that’s what you’re worried about. And in a month, I’ll disappear. I’ll vanish completely—from your life, from CEO Oh Soohyun’s life, from everything.”  

With that, Leeseo picked up the remote control from the table and pressed the mute button. The sound of the crowd’s boos and the anchor’s excited commentary suddenly filled the room.  

“Goodnight.”  

She placed the remote back on the table and turned to leave for her room. Just as she reached the table, she froze momentarily, her body stiffening.  

The moment she almost bumped into the table’s edge, her strange behavior etched itself into Junmo’s mind.  

Even after Leeseo disappeared into her room, Junmo couldn’t focus on the game.  

His thoughts swirled with unease, like a storm brewing in his mind.  

He felt as though he’d experienced this kind of feeling before…  

The problem was that this sensation wasn’t unfamiliar.  

Even when the final whistle blew on the TV, signaling the end of the match, Junmo remained seated on the couch, unable to move.