KMH – Chapter 16

Jugyeong turned her head over her shoulder to add one last thing, then faced forward again.

Seju felt the pulse slam hard against the inside of his wrist. He felt it flutter beneath his ear, too. He also saw it—how the tension had drained from Jugyeong’s pale, prominent hand only at the moment she’d said congratulations.

Seju stumbled closer and came to stand beside her. He didn’t have a plan. He was just dying with regret that she’d turned away too quickly for him to properly see her face. He wanted to badger her—tell her to say it again if she meant it.

But Jugyeong didn’t look back.

So much so that it left him hurt. His shoulders rose and fell roughly as he ground his teeth and turned his gaze aside.

And then…

He saw Jugyeong reflected in the elevator door.

His heart dropped.

Before he could stop himself, Seju grabbed Jugyeong’s shoulder.

“Hey, you—”

At that moment, Jugyeong looked up at him.

Clear streams were cutting straight down her impassive face.

Seju thought the world was ending.

There were so many things he wanted to demand when he looked at Jugyeong.

‘Do you sleep at night after turning me into a fucking idiot?’

‘I haven’t seen you much in the cafeteria lately—are you even eating?’

But his head went blank.

He just stupidly lowered his gaze, following the droplet sliding down her slender jaw—and it was like his brain short-circuited. His spine soaked through in an instant, and the muscles around his cheeks locked tight.

With a creak, like rusted scrap metal, Seju lifted his face.

His mind was sludge.

Jugyeong was crying.

That Ha Jugyeong was crying.

Her white cheeks were soaked. The streams wouldn’t stop—because of those damn tears…

Calmly, Jugyeong wiped her chin with the back of her hand and spoke.

“Now that I think about it… every time I came in first, you always congratulated me. And I never said it back.”

“…….”

“Of course, it wasn’t completely sincere.”

“…….”

“But still. Congratulations.”

She twisted free, as if asking him to let go of her shoulder. Seju stared numbly between his now-empty hand and Jugyeong’s profile, standing a step away.

It felt like calcification was spreading outward from the dead center of his heart. One light tap and it would shatter. That familiar yet still unfamiliar chest pain made Seju press a hand to his sternum.

Jugyeong’s face had already dried, her gaze fixed forward.

Seju licked his lips, swept a hand through his hair, rubbed the throbbing inside of his wrist, took a step, stopped, paced—until he finally couldn’t take it anymore and blurted out,

“Ha Jugyeong. What are you… thinking right now?”

Truthfully, he’d always wanted to know.

Where you are. What you’re looking at.

Because, Jugyeong, we…

Only after the pale hand gripping her bag strap dropped, after her delicate lashes fluttered closed and open again, did Jugyeong turn to him.

“You know our report cards come out tomorrow, right?”

Was it tomorrow? He didn’t know. Didn’t care. Fuck that.

Seju just wanted her tears out of his sight—somehow, anyway. He instinctively clenched the handkerchief in his pocket.

For some reason, Jugyeong let out a hollow laugh and brushed her hair back.

“If we go eat like nothing happened here and head home… I’ll have to meet my grandfather alone in his study.”

“…….”

“Right before early admissions. Why couldn’t I hold my position? What I’ll do to get it back.”

“…….”

“In excruciating detail. Pathetically. Until he’s satisfied.”

That was when Seju understood.

Yes, he hated that Jugyeong put him second. Yes, he’d resented it.

But never—not once—had he wanted to see her cry.

So this—ah. Fuck. This isn’t right. This really isn’t right.

He felt like a lost kid. All he could do was clench his hands while feeling the pulse slam beneath his ear.

“So what do you think I’m thinking right now, Seju?”

“…….”

“I just think… I’m fucked.”

Ding.

The elevator arrived.

Jugyeong took a deep breath, wiped her cheeks with her palm, and tidied her hair and clothes. Watching her, Seju once again felt like he was being shoved back by a massive wall.

When Jugyeong finished composing herself, she stepped out.

“…….”

Left alone, Seju blinked slowly.

If Jugyeong was crying because of him, he felt like he wanted to die.

And even if she wasn’t, he still felt like dying.

That sense was right.

He would never go to eat tteokbokki with her again.

He would never get replies to his messages.

He would never steal glances at her smile again.

There was no going back to before he’d seen Jugyeong cry.

Seju just knew.

The elevator doors didn’t open again for a long time.

“—!”

Seju snapped awake, gasping. Sweat-soaked hair clung to his forehead as he brushed it back dazedly, then slumped.

“Even when I dream, it has to be this shit….”

Above him was a ceiling left raw, pipes exposed. He stared blankly at the metal track lights, then kicked the blanket off and shot upright.

Shirtless, he dragged a hand up his face so hard it pulled his cheeks taut. Reliving things he never wanted to experience again—in dreams, no less—was fucking miserable. He still wasn’t used to it.

And he didn’t want to be.

Getting off the frameless mattress, Seju stood. He must have slept roughly; not just the standard pillow, but several others meant for different uses were scattered across the floor.

He kicked them aside irritably and headed into the bathroom.

I’d rather put a gun in my mouth than see Ha Jugyeong cry again. Fuck.

Scowling, he turned on the faucet.

Shaaa— Cold water poured down as he slowly tilted his head back.

After showering, Seju passed the grid-patterned loft window and went into the open kitchen.

Tired of hotel living every time he came back to Korea, he’d bought a place. Two top-floor units of an old villa overlooking the Han River, knocked together into one. He hated cramped sightlines, and living alone meant he didn’t see the point in dividing space.

So far, he was satisfied.

He grabbed a cup from the exposed shelf above the sink, filled it with tap water, and downed it. Since he hated exercising on an empty stomach, he planned to eat something light, jog around the neighborhood, then head out.

He sliced campagne bread and put it in the oven, turned on the stove beneath the large hood, poured oil into a stainless pan, and mashed an avocado. Salt, pepper, lemon juice. He cracked eggs into the pan.

Ding. The oven timer went off.

Reaching for a plate, Seju laid out the crisp toast, slathered on a generous layer of avocado, topped it with perfectly cooked sunny-side-up eggs, and sprinkled crushed red pepper.

He poured coffee brewed from beans he’d bought at one of the few decent cafés nearby, then perched on the central island—toast on one side, coffee on the other—and ate lazily.

Even so, Jugyeong from last night wouldn’t let him go. She hovered like a hologram right in front of him. Standing still with her head tilted. Soft hair fluttering in the wind. That gentle, pliant scent.

And…

“Seju.”

“…….”

“Want to sleep with me?”

Chewing the toast like he was just refueling, Seju finally let out a long sigh through his nose.

“Get out of my head already, Jugyeong….”

The moment he muttered it, his throat tightened, and he had to gulp down scalding coffee, steam and all.

Seju pressed the inside of his cheek hard with his rough tongue.

—” Did you sleep well? Nothing happened, right?”

“Yeah. More or less. How about Madam Im?”

—” Your mom slept great. Didn’t even dream.”

Lucky bitch….

No need to check the mirror. He already knew—sunken eyes, like someone who hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. He ran a hand through his hair and rested it on his hip.

—” Dad just sent the address. Check it out.”

Ding. A message arrived.

Whether he was worried his recently returned son might get lost, or threatening him not to keep his wife waiting at the hotel café, either way, his father had sent the address for Hyogwang Hotel.

As if he could forget it.

If forgetting were possible, he would’ve scrubbed it from his memory hundreds of times already.