KMH – Chapter 17

“Are you going to pick them up after so long?”

—” No, it’s fine. President Cheon said he’d…”

President Cheon was going to escort her to the hotel himself. After hanging up, Seju tilted his head far to one side. It seemed his father still saw his mother—who had carried him to term with resolute determination—as a child left standing at the edge of water.

Is it really that good?

Whenever President Cheon stood in front of Director Im, he turned into a dignified boy; whenever Director Im stood in front of President Cheon, she became a shy girl.

Seju had never really thought about it in detail, but if he were to build a family someday, he wanted it to look like his parents’. Like lovers, like best friends, like spouses, like siblings.

Even if the world were to end tomorrow, Seju was confident he could keep his wife and daughter safe and fed.

After all, his entire life ran on groundless certainty.

There was just one exception.

Jugyeong.

“Ah, fuck…”

There he was, thinking about Jugyeong again—his head throbbing. Rubbing his temples, Seju snorted softly.

That was exactly why Jugyeong was so damn relentless.

Once she lodged herself in his head, she never left him alone—not in any moment, not ever.

Clicking his tongue, he reached behind his neck and yanked off his T-shirt. He pulled on a deep navy polo and undid a couple of buttons, paired it with cream slacks that fell straight from the thighs, rolled up the sleeves, and strapped on a metal watch. He added a minimalist silver pendant and headed for the door.

He slipped his bare feet into black leather loafers.

Thud. The door opened and closed. The entryway sensor light went out.

After handing off the car for valet, Seju crossed the Hyogwang Hotel lobby and, following a staff member’s guidance, took a window seat in the café.

Even if it was Jugyeong’s maternal family’s hotel, he didn’t expect much from the coffee, so he ordered the May signature drink the staff recommended—an ade made with seasonal lime and lemon.

Being a weekday afternoon, the place was quiet.

Seju, perched in an armchair upholstered in premium fabric, propped his elbow on the armrest, rested his chin in his hand, and scanned the room.

Today’s plan was to visit a gallery near the hotel run by one of Director Im’s alumni. Honestly, he wasn’t expecting much—small galleries focused more on sales than exhibitions.

After that, he’d stop by Hyogwang Department Store not far away to play porter for his mother, then meet his father at a nearby hanjeongsik restaurant to eat. That would be the day.

Fucking busy…

He crossed his legs and flicked under his nails—then froze.

Jugyeong.

She was walking into the café.

Instantly, Seju’s eyes pinched with irritation.

Now I’m seeing hallucinations, too.

All morning, Jugyeong’s afterimage had hovered like a hologram; now it looked frighteningly real—the ruler-straight posture, the soft curve from forehead to nose.

“Hm…”

Where was the real Ha Jugyeong right now? What was she doing?

At work, probably.

Had she eaten lunch…?

His drink arrived.

“Enjoy.”

He took a sip. The sharp, biting taste immediately brought Jugyeong to mind. Once she took over his head, she never walked out on her own—and it felt wrong to chase her out, too.

Clicking his tongue at the thought that he was the only one suffering, Seju watched the hallucination move.

He followed it with the glass still at his lips.

At the same time, a figure stopped at a table and spoke.

“Mr. Kim Minsu?”

Pfft. Seju sprayed his ade.

***

No—what the fuck is Ha Jugyeong doing here?

Seju slid down in his seat in a panic. Today was not a day to show his face anywhere—especially not to Jugyeong. He practically sprawled across the chair, eyes blazing as he hid his haggard look.

Across the café, diagonally opposite him—of all places—Jugyeong had taken a seat. And today, of all days…

“……”

Seju scanned her from head to toe with eyes on fire.

She wore an oversized striped Oxford shirt and lightly washed denim, sleeves casually rolled to reveal slender wrists with a rectangular watch. He checked her shoes too and clenched his teeth.

Of all shoes—she wore those again.

Sneakers.

Spotless white.

Squinting as if dazzled, Seju tried to gulp down the rest of his drink—only to find the glass empty. He dumped in the ice and crunched it between his teeth.

Drop Jugyeong into a college campus like that, and no one would guess whether she was twenty or twenty-nine. …And if some asshole managed to guess her age without being told, Seju would happily beat him to death.

Propping his chin with both thumbs and hiding his mouth, he bounced his leg. Then it struck him—’ I’m sitting right here.’ How did Ha Jugyeong not see me?

His throat burned. Not just thirst—an inner blaze that dried his palate to cracking.

A staff member passed by and asked gently, “Is there anything you need?”

He ordered a glass of cold water, extra ice. When it arrived, he slammed it down his throat and set the glass back with a click—only then realizing.

Jugyeong wasn’t alone.

She was with some guy.

They were leaning in, chatting warmly, heads nearly touching.

His leg, which had been shaking hard enough to draw looks from nearby tables, slowed to a stop.

From the look of it, Jugyeong was here for a blind date. Whether she was being dragged from one to the next by her grandfather was none of Seju’s business—no interest, no right to interfere, didn’t matter at all.

Except…

“So I did want to try touching you too, Seju.”

After spouting that and turning him into a first-rate idiot, she came out to a blind date like nothing happened?

“Ha!”

Seju let out a bitter laugh.

Now that he thought about it, Director Im had mentioned on the drive last night that Jugyeong had been going on blind dates lately.

Back then, his head had been too busy imploding over Jugyeong’s bombshell to process it.

He’d missed one of the few chances he had to blow up at her properly.

‘You go on blind dates and tell me you want to sleep with me?’

‘What kind of brain do you have, throwing that at me for a one-night thing?’

If he’d unloaded like that, the heat wouldn’t have fit into a phone call.

He would’ve used it as an excuse to storm into Jugyeong’s place—check the window bars and door locks, see if the streetlights were sparse, scope out any sketchy neighbors. Maybe he could’ve dragged her out for a night walk under the pretense of a patrol.

Calling himself a crazy bastard for wasting that golden opportunity, Seju suddenly felt a chill down his spine.

…Wait.

He snapped his head up.

She wouldn’t go around asking that guy to sleep with her, too, right…?

The man had his back turned, so Seju couldn’t see his face—but whatever. Ten out of ten Korean men walking around looked like their features had been sanded off on asphalt. And even if this one had decent features, Seju was confident he didn’t stand a chance.

More than anything, Jugyeong’s standards would be sky-high.

Pretty girls always had high standards.

“Fuck… I can’t hear a damn thing…”

As he wet his dry lips, Seju frowned. He caught fragments of a gentle, melodic voice now and then, but not enough to make out words. Irritated, he leaned forward.

Then Jugyeong smiled.

It wasn’t loud or showy—just a soft curve at her lips. Why it looked so vivid, he couldn’t say.

In that instant, the tension drained from his sharply outlined features and from the hand that had been gripping the armrest hard enough to break it.

…She’s smiling.

It wasn’t the fake smile nineteen-year-old Jugyeong used to put on. This was a different order entirely.

From the parking garage where they’d reunited to the law office, to Cheongwoljae—had he ever seen her smile like that?

No. Not once.

And all at once, he felt ridiculous—how he’d loitered around study halls and classrooms as a kid just to see that face once.

Only then did Seju remember.

Ah. Right.

She’s always been the best at making me feel like a fucking idiot.

Quietly, he leaned back. He rubbed his sharply set jaw, then tore his gaze away from Jugyeong as if ripping off glue.

Her voice drifted into his ears like a breeze, but Seju didn’t move. He stared out the window, slowly finishing the remaining water.

Finally, he stood, crossed the quiet café, and left.