KMH – Chapter 6

She tried not to be shaken, but it wasn’t easy.

He smelled unfamiliar.

That faintly sweet scent—like bread browning in an oven in the late afternoon—the gentle, cozy smell of body lotion mixed with the salty tang of seawater… none of that clung to him anymore.

All that drifted in on the breeze was a musk—strong, yet delicate.

Who could have imagined that a child who used to wring tears out of himself, stubbornly forcing them to come, would grow up like this?

From the man standing in front of her, Jugyeong couldn’t find a trace of the boy who had once made her not herself.

The skin beneath Jugyeong’s eyes had long since reddened with sharp hostility. She asked coolly,

“Who do you think I am right now? Who are you mistaking me for?”

Seju laughed roughly. The chest that had swelled threateningly dropped at once, and the long, horizontal shape of his eyes sharpened, blazing.

“Jugyeong, Jugyeong—fucking ridiculous Ha Jugyeong….”

Muttering acridly, Seju slowly kneaded the back of his neck. His nape was throbbing, suddenly raw.

It had been a full ten years since they’d last met. They hadn’t even had time to unspool whatever was between them, and already it felt like he was about to lose his mind—this was a problem.

Even now, with thirty creeping up on him,he often dreamed of the day of the college entrance exam when he had waited for Jukyeong.

And on mornings like that, he never woke up cleanly.

Like he’d fallen off a cliff, he’d jolt awake with his limbs rattling, his whole body drenched in cold sweat.

That feeling was fucking dogshit, sure—

But—

Seju’s face shifted subtly.

Jugyeong’s expression was changing by the second, a whole array of it. Without thinking, Seju drew his head back slightly and inspected that face—smaller than his fist—from every angle.

Back then, whenever Jugyeong hadn’t slept or had cried, her eyelids and lips would puff up noticeably.

Which meant, annoyingly, her beauty was still loud and obnoxiously striking.

Jugyeong looked like a face that had been poured onto a canvas with her entire life, then rolled once through fresh snow and lifted back out.

No matter how much you carved and shaved a face on an operating table, you couldn’t make eyes, a nose, a mouth like that.

And that wasn’t even all.

The slender, long nape he’d always been afraid might snap if he so much as looked away for a second—was still dazzlingly white. The hazel eyes that, once they tangled with yours, made it impossible to look away were the same.

And that indifferent gaze—as if she had no interest in the things that could instantly turn every green, cocky kid into a pathetic little bastard, as if she didn’t even want to know—was exactly the same as when she was younger.

Because Jugyeong was the same—because nothing about her had changed—his mood twisted.

It felt like the only way to soothe the heat burning up inside him was to tear down that lofty side of her, right in front of her eyes.

Seju suddenly leaned in close.

Jugyeong flinched and pressed her lips tight.

Seju wore a crooked smile, dripping with provocation.

“Look at you, glaring like that. You’re fucking general material¹, Jugyeong.”

“…….”

“Mistaking you for someone else? Me—how dare I?”

Seju laughed easily, then straightened his waist, his dark-blue irises flashing.

Jugyeong tracked his movement without blinking and snapped,

“If you’re talking for me to hear, then talk so I can actually understand.”

“You’re the one who has no intention of putting in the effort to understand.”

Jugyeong pinched her brows together.

The expression control that had worked perfectly in front of her blind date earlier didn’t seem to work in front of Seju.

Because she hadn’t done anything wrong enough to accept one-sided blame.

‘Stabbed him in the chest….’

Whatever misunderstanding Seju had, Jugyeong felt certain it had nothing to do with her.

“It’s not that—”

“Not that?”

Seju cut her off mid-sentence. His arrogant face made Jugyeong frown.

Ripping people open with words and looks—that was what Seju did best. She didn’t need to be dragged around by him here either.

Jugyeong steadied her ragged breath, clenched her fist small, then loosened it.

“I’m just thrown off. Weren’t you the one who spent all of high school acting like you couldn’t wait to tear me apart?”

“How do you manage to give an answer that doesn’t stray a single inch from what I expected—shit, I seriously don’t know where to put myself…. What happened to your brain in the meantime?”

“If one of us stabbed an innocent bastard in the chest… there’s a very high chance it wasn’t me. It was you, Seju.”

At the flat, even voice, Seju’s brows pulled into something ugly.

In the end, he stared at Jugyeong in silence—his face so blank it was cold.

Jugyeong held her ground, pressing strength into the tops of her feet until her calves ached.

The resistance she’d always felt toward Seju—who made her into a childish, petty kid no matter when—felt like it braced her spine from behind.

“…….”

“…….”

After a beat, Seju let out a breath that was half sigh, half hollow laugh, and turned his head to the side.

His jawline, sharp as if carved from marble, flared out for a moment—then loosened again. A large palm shoved his cheek upward as if crushing it.

Then he spat, like he couldn’t believe it.

“This is seriously exactly the same as before.”

Still like that, Seju rolled only his eyes and looked down at Jugyeong.

“Remembering things however the hell you want.”

Jugyeong snorted too, turning her head away from him.

Now she swept her hair back with a tired hand and sighed—then raised her eyes to meet his, a wall back in place.

“I don’t want to raise my voice with you. Not when it’s been ten years.”

“Stay in your lane properly. If you’re going to pretend we don’t know each other, then do it. Don’t make a show of remembering exactly how many years it’s been since you cut contact and mess with my head.”

“Yeah? Then move your car.”

Seju gave a short scoff. Even after that, the corners of his mouth twitched up now and then. Then, as if gathering up his impatient laughter, he rubbed along his jaw.

Finally, he shoved both hands into his pants pockets and sneered,

“Good. Hey. If you’d changed, I might’ve been disappointed.”

Jugyeong wrapped an arm around her other forearm, as if hiding the hand that throbbed from lost circulation, and shot back,

“You too.”

“…….”

“You still look healthy. It’s… nice to see, Seju.”

Seju blinked slowly, then split his lips into a long grin.

Jugyeong, heat already rising into her cheeks, forced the stiff corners of her mouth up as well.

***

Her heart kept pounding the entire time she moved on to her next appointment.

Seju’s afterimage shimmered behind her eyelids.

Jugyeong frowned and ground her teeth lightly.

It was because of the curiosity that had flared up out of nowhere.

…Did he get even taller?

Born and raised in the States, Seju had come back to Korea for high school.

Wearing the same uniform as Jugyeong, side by side.

Even then, Seju had always stood out—towering wherever he went among kids who were all about the same height—but it hadn’t felt overwhelmingly dominant the way it did now.

Because the face that kept catching in her peripheral vision had usually been in profile.

A sharp jaw. A reddish ear. Those were what she saw more often.

And when their eyes did tangle, Seju would blink slowly and then be the first to turn away.

As if he’d never looked at her. As if it were an accident. As if it meant nothing.

High school—constantly colliding with Seju as they fought over the rank of first in the class—always triggered the worst sensations in Jugyeong.

Her counselor had said:

“Negative memories, more than anything, can’t help but be remembered deeper and longer. We—humans—have evolved to respond instantly, sensitively, to matters directly tied to survival.”

So that was why she’d left the parking lot in a fluster, and why she was chewing over the fragments Seju left behind.

That was how she soothed herself.

And after she arrived at the appointment location and finished parking, the tightness in her chest quieted as if it had been a lie.

“Haa….”

Jugyeong let out a long breath without thinking and leaned the back of her head against the headrest.

Before she could even knead her palms and relax the tension in her body—

Bzzz. Her phone vibrated.

[“On your way??]

It was Lawyer Kim Sunwoo.

[I’m coming up now.]

With a dry, scoffing laugh, Jugyeong shoved Seju out of her mind and entered the shabby building.

It was a one-off, but she’d come to Kim Sunwoo’s office for copyright-related consulting.

Glancing at the elevator panel, Jugyeong headed for the stairs.

After the back-and-forth with Seju, she was cutting it close. She couldn’t afford to wait for the elevator to come down from the top floor.

She didn’t see the building manager walking to the elevator with a sign that read Under Repair.

Soon, Jugyeong reached the fifth floor, where the law office was.

As she pushed the door open with one hand, she mulled over what Sunwoo had told her.

“A brand campaign video directed by a designer—edited without permission by the company and broadcast abroad….”

Yang Jeongwon, the only office staffer at Kim Sunwoo’s practice, was spraying a mister at a potted plant with a tired face—psht, psht. The ribbon attached to the congratulatory wreath Jugyeong had sent when the office opened hung limp and damp.

Then, only belatedly recognizing Jugyeong, Jeongwon broke into a wide smile and jogged over.

“You’re here, Patent Attorney! Nice weather today, right?”

“Isn’t it… kind of hot today?”

“Huh? It’s only May. Oh—do you run hot?”

Jugyeong blinked.

She’d been waiting for this unusually turbulent year to pass already, and—

Come to think of it, it was only May.

‘I hope this summer isn’t too hot….’

Jugyeong gave a professional smile and set a drink carrier on the reception desk.

“Oh! My favorite—Cheoneok Coffee’s rich latte…!”

The patent attorney—beautiful enough to carry a kind of upper-class dignity, like a chaebol heir—was even this considerate.

No wonder Jeongwon always came running.

“I’ll enjoy it again today. Thank you.”

Jeongwon bowed quickly, snatching up a latte.

“The client just arrived, so the lawyer’s in the consultation room with them.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Straightening her outfit as she walked to the consultation room, Jugyeong knocked—knock, knock.

“Looks like she’s here.”

Kim Sunwoo’s voice sounded bright from inside, and the door swung open.

“You made it? Come in, Jugyeong.”

Jugyeong nodded and casually cast her gaze into the room—

Then her face hardened.

Seju, slouched in a chair, slowly straightened.

Their eyes hooked in midair.

Jugyeong blinked, flustered.

Seju narrowed his eyes as if frowning.

Then the stare fixed on her briefly slid to the ceiling—

And snapped back onto her face.

Jugyeong swallowed hard.

Seju tapped the table—tap.

Jugyeong thought:

‘…I should’ve brought my stress ball.’

It looked like today was going to get longer from here.