KMH – Chapter 14

The atmosphere—on the verge of turning explosive—dissolved limply. Keen enough to sense the tension, Director Lim only softened her smile further, as if nothing were amiss.

“Don’t tell me I barged in while you two were enjoying some private time—was I being tactless?”

“Why are you saying things like that again, Director Lim?”

Unlike Seju, who recoiled in open disgust, Jugyeong gathered up whatever affability she could muster and smiled sweetly.

“I guess it’s been a while since I saw Seju. Turns out we had more to talk about than I thought.”

Seju looked Jugyeong up and down and let out a blatant scoff. Director Lim didn’t even bother hiding her interest as she alternated her gaze between them. Jugyeong flicked a glance at Seju, hesitated, then slipped her arm through Director Lim’s.

“Did the meal suit your taste?”

“It did. You’ll see when you’re older, Jugyeong—food made by someone else is the best there is.”

“My aunt, who looks after Grandpa’s meals, seasons things a bit boldly. Grandpa likes it, but just in case—”

Seju stared after Jugyeong as she drew away with Director Lim, dumbfounded. Anyone watching would think they were mother and daughter, that close.

She’d been pouring gasoline on a burning house a moment ago—now she was fluttering around an elder like it was second nature.

How was anyone supposed to stay sane around that?

Raking his hair irritably, Seju suddenly pinched his brows together. As the heat that had swallowed his head ebbed and collapsed, a bitter taste flooded his mouth, like chewing on quassia.

Had his words been…

Too much?

He tried to justify himself—he’d had reason enough—but Seju still couldn’t shake the aftereffects of what had just happened.

“There’s a man I want to press my body against for the first time in my life—and that it’s you…”

“That’s what makes it a blessing for me.”

Still, he roughly grasped now. Why did Jukyeong call it a blessing.

“I meant you seem sexually open—like you don’t have those kinds of prejudices.”

Jugyeong had simply been looking for someone who could satisfy a physical urge—and who wouldn’t cause trouble afterward. She was sharp like that.

“Let’s sleep together. Just once.”

Which explained her talent for firing verbal artillery. It had triggered an earthquake in his head, a tsunami, then a nuclear blast.

God. Maybe it was just because they’d met again after so long. He couldn’t handle this at all.

His neck still throbbed dully. He rolled it, stretching.

Honestly, even now, he was stunned.

Not because she’d come at him out of nowhere, asking to sleep together.

“Just once?”

There were limits to treating someone like a two-pump chump. Once they lined things up down there, he’d been ready to go at it at least four or five times—

No, four or five didn’t even sound like enough.

Did the number really need a cap?

As those thoughts branched wildly, Seju’s gaze landed on the slingback heels Jugyeong had taken off.

“What, is she Cinderella or something?”

Looks-wise, that genre fits, sure—but still.

She really had a knack for winding people around her finger.

Tch. Clicking his tongue, Seju bent and hooked the slingback heel between his index and middle fingers. Then, moving slowly as if following the faint trace of Jugyeong’s scent, he set off.

***

It was just as the sedan left Pyeongchang-dong, merged onto the riverside road, and entered Mapo Bridge.

“Jugyeong really grew up so straight and proper. Don’t you think so, Seju?”

Slouched in the back seat like a loafer, one ankle draped over his opposite thigh as he picked at his nails, Seju smirked.

If Director Lim knew the kind of nonsense that “straight and proper” kid had spewed today, she’d topple backward.

“She spoke so gently, too. I almost wanted to take Jugyeong home with us.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. And that smile—so pretty.”

His parents chatted warmly in the front seats.

Must be nice, having such a blissful marriage….

Propping his temple on a clenched fist, Seju stared out the window.

On the bridge, red taillights packed tight; below, city lights shattered and rippled across the river, like an oil painting.

“…Apparently so. Who can stand up to Chairman Cha’s stubbornness, right? Seju, did you know?”

Eyes squeezed shut like he was pressing them closed, Seju replied,

“How would I know anything?”

“Oh, you didn’t know either. They say Jugyeong’s been so busy going on matchmaking dates lately she can’t even catch her breath.”

His mind had been elsewhere—more precisely, stuck replaying the moment he’d raised his voice at Jugyeong—so it took a beat for it to register.

Matchmaking. Jugyeong.

When it finally clicked that Ha Jugyeong had been going on blind dates, Seju thrust his head between the front seats and snapped,

“Blind dates? Who? Jugyeong? Why the hell would she?”

His parents exchanged looks. Then Director Lim turned back with an easy grin.

“Why do you think so? Seems Chairman Cha’s been nagging Jugyeong nonstop, saying he doesn’t have much time left.”

“Is the old man senile?”

“Cheon Seju.”

Mr. Cheon shot Seju a warning glance, but Seju scowled, unfazed.

“What about all the other grandkids? Why is he hounding Ha Jugyeong like she’s prey?”

Finding her son’s eagerness whenever Jugyeong came up endearing, Director Lim broke into laughter.

“Well, Jugyeong’s always adored her grandfather, ever since she was little.”

“A filial Saint Shim Cheong, huh.”

Curling his lip in mockery, Seju sank back into the seat.

For a second there, I thought she actually wanted to get married.

With a sour expression, he rolled his eyes up at the ceiling.

…Though in a way, Jugyeong did adore that old man.

He shut his eyes hard, as if to block out the noise in his head.

***

As he neared nineteen, Seju was confused. He couldn’t tell whether Jugyeong had changed—or whether he’d just grown too sensitive.

It usually went like this:

From afar, he’d call out, “Hey, Ha Jugyeong,” and approach—only for Jugyeong to turn her back and walk away. Left alone, he’d tilt his head.

She’s young and already going deaf, or what?

On days he saw her leave without hesitation, a tar-like unease clung to his fingertips all day.

He didn’t usually think he was being ignored. Once he fixated on that, his breath would shorten, and a chill would pierce his chest.

And sometimes—there were days she’d come back as if she’d heard nothing and ask if he’d called her. The fleeting confusion and embarrassment were worth it.

Because Jugyeong had come back. On her own feet, no dragging required.

That was the point Seju wanted to mark. Maybe his voice hadn’t reached her—maybe it’d been too small. He could brush it off like that. And when Jugyeong gave him an opening, Seju never missed it.

Except—

If he asked what she’d been talking about with someone, Jugyeong would say it was nothing.

That “nothing” was what he wanted to know.

More than that, though, he couldn’t stand the blank space between his question and her answer.

That awkwardness.

Strange. They’d traded blows daily, hurled insults close to abuse, and never once felt distant.

It made his skin crawl; he’d scrub the back of his head without knowing why.

Nothing changed when he turned nineteen. The same thing kept repeating from the start of the semester, and the things he didn’t know about Jugyeong kept piling up.

When people asked him—like it was obvious—where Jugyeong had gone, he had nothing to say. A chill would creep through him, and all he could do was mutter,

Yeah… where did she go?

It wasn’t until the season softened—frozen ground thawing, shoots turning green—that he realized.

Ah. It’s been a while.

Since Ha Jugyeong started treating me like a total stranger.

Since the end of the second year, first semester finals.

Since she realized her grades were no longer leagues apart from his.

She’d never once responded to his suggestions to skip night study—but if he asked her to ditch dinner and grab tteokbokki, she’d say yes about one time out of ten.

After that autumn at eighteen, he never sat across from Jugyeong in a snack shop, drinking water from a stainless-steel cup that smelled faintly of fish.

Most of her answers to him were just, “Huh?” “Yeah?” “Oh….”

None of his questions was difficult.

What did you do yesterday? Why didn’t you reply to my message?

Your phone seems broken—let’s go get it fixed.

I just learned the word “senior center”—don’t you think it’d be fun if we went together when we’re wrinkly old grandparents someday?

Only then did it all become clear.

Ha Jugyeong was…

Cutting me out of her life?

He didn’t care about anyone else—didn’t want to know, didn’t need to.

But Jugyeong couldn’t do that.

He’d transferred to Seoul, taken refuge with his mother’s family, believing in Jugyeong alone. He wouldn’t accept being reduced to a passing extra in her life.

Because he wasn’t just anyone.

Seju had carved out a place for Jugyeong in his life long ago—a place she could enter anytime. A seat made exactly for her, one that no one but Ha Jugyeong could ever fill.