KMH – Chapter 2

…Is this guy insane?

“Ah.”

Jugyeong closed her eyes, swallowing an irritated groan. Right now, she needed to rein in the impulse flaring up inside her.

She desperately wanted to ask whether he was drunk—or genuinely out of his mind. Her hand rummaged through her handbag for a stress ball out of habit, then froze.

‘What if the counselor’s advice was just a metaphor?’

Jugyeong knew how stress balls worked. She’d looked it up herself before buying one.

Repeating the motion of squeezing a squishy object stimulated the nerves in the fingertips, helping to calm emotions.

In short: distraction, self-soothing, and releasing pent-up energy through physical action.

If that was the case, then before she got swept up by this unfamiliar impulse, she needed a way to control the change—

“…I need to find one.”

A proper stress ball. As soon as possible.

Forcing herself to steady her nerves, Jugyeong jabbed at the call button with a hand that tingled as it had cramped. If it went to voicemail, she planned to ram the car and leave—exactly as the owner had suggested. It wasn’t something she couldn’t do.

Unfortunately, the call connected immediately.

—”You’ve got quite the fiery personality.”

She knew she’d misdialed. She could tell from just seven syllables alone. More than that, the voice wasn’t unfamiliar. Jugyeong glared into the empty space, slowly drawing her chin inward.

—”I only just texted back, didn’t I?”

Jugyeong, who had meant to state her business and hang up as quickly as possible, narrowed her eyes with suspicion as she replied.

“…Hello. You’re the owner of the red Panamera, correct?”

—I’m not really knowledgeable about car models.

“…….”

—But the color sounds about right.

His speech was languid. Like someone who’d just woken from a long afternoon nap. The irritation prickling at the nape of her neck eased a notch at the voice—one that suddenly brought someone to mind.

‘…No way.’

‘That couldn’t be it.’

They’d lost contact ages ago, and from what she’d heard, he hadn’t been back in Korea for quite some time.

There was no way such a ridiculous coincidence would happen on a weekend afternoon—right in the middle of Gangnam, no less.

Pushing the unpleasant déjà vu aside, Jugyeong continued.

“You must have been very busy today—you left the gear in park. Sir, if you could move your car, then I—”

A sudden, hearty laugh burst out. The laughter drifting over from the other end was low enough to raise goosebumps along her cheeks.

—”Ah, sorry about that. I’m not usually this much of a mannerless bastard.”

“…….”

—”You used a form of address that really stood out, and it made someone pop into my head for a moment. If that offended you, I apologize.”

Despite the scattered traces of laughter, it didn’t sound like mockery. Jugyeong’s gaze sharpened. She had no use for half-hearted, conditional apologies—but more than that, she wanted to end this call with the unidentified man who had all her senses on edge.

“So where are you now?”

—”I’m on my way.”

“When will you arrive?”

—”Anyone listening would think I’m crawling over there. I’ll be back within the day at the latest, so don’t worry too much.”

“Are you close?”

—”Our teacher here has a bit of a habit of pressuring people, doesn’t she?”

Jugyeong was still holding the phone to her ear when her brow creased.

In the distance, she saw a tall figure ambling toward her.

He was a man whose sheer size would intimidate anyone. He was tall, but more than that, his build was strikingly large.

He wore wide-legged pants and a V-neck knit that revealed the full breadth of his thick upper body. Beige and brown tones blended in a coordinated palette, flip-flops on his feet—but his physique was so solid and long-limbed that he carried it with ease.

A car key looped around his index finger spun lazily, jingle-jangle, producing a distracting metallic clatter.

Following that sound, Jugyeong blinked.

The way he walked—like he was being carried along by the breeze—was absurdly relaxed. For a moment, she even forgot how long he’d left her standing there by the roadside.

But as he drew closer, a wavering scent brushed the tip of her nose, and something near her breastbone thumped, hard.

It was a fragrance she didn’t recognize—yet somehow felt familiar.

The hand holding her phone slipped, slowly, from her grasp. Then her spine snapped straight, and the area around her cheeks stiffened, frozen.

That was when their eyes met.

Jugyeong’s eyes flew open as her breath stalled. The man, who’d seemed to be sauntering, suddenly closed the distance—then came to an abrupt halt.

Neither of them moved. They just stared at each other.

An uncanny silence pulled taut along her spine.

Without realizing it, Jugyeong clenched her fist.

The boy who used to lose control of his temper, screaming himself hoarse in helpless fury, had become a fully grown man—one who could make anyone shrink back.

Eyes that left behind a dense, lingering scent. Features carved as if by the nib of a fountain pen. A body that looked less like bone and flesh and more like reinforced steel….

Her heart fluttered wildly at the brutal transformation. Just facing him made her fingertips curl inward. Her mouth went dry, parched.

Suddenly—HOOONK!—a sharp, irritable car horn blared from somewhere.

Only then did Jugyeong draw in a breath, her lungs aching. At that moment, the muscle beneath his eye twitched briefly. As if under a spell, they both murmured at the same time.

“…Cheon Seju?”

“Ha Jugyeong….”

Jugyeong’s lips parted unconsciously. The next instant, Seju—his hair ruffled by the breeze—twisted his face into something feral.

At the threshold of late spring, a reunion neither of them had ever wished for dragged them both, in an instant, into the height of summer.

Back into that suffocating heat, the time when they felt they might explode at any moment.

***

At noon in the height of summer, a helicopter departing from Manhattan touched down on a private helipad.

Nine-year-old Jugyeong, dressed in a pure white ruffled dress with her hair half tied back by a large ribbon clip, climbed into a waiting cart with her mother.

The long ride might have been tedious, yet Jugyeong didn’t complain once—she only blinked sleepily.

Ever since her parents’ amicable divorce, drowsiness had come over her at all hours.

Even more so after her father passed away from sudden cardiac arrest late last year.

“…….”

“…….”

Mother and daughter sat side by side, but their gazes remained fixed in opposite directions.

Soon, the electric cart stopped at its destination.

The villa, set amid vast grounds, stood on a hill overlooking a private beach. Wooden steps ran from the low cliff in front of the house all the way down to the white sand—a quiet, secluded place.

Having heard of their arrival, Im Sua hurried out to greet them. Jugyeong recognized Professor Im’s face—the one who taught at a prestigious private art and design university in Brooklyn, New York.

It was the same face from the faded photograph her mother treasured: wearing a Korean girls’ high school uniform, arm hooked through her mother’s, smiling brightly.

“Hwajeong…!”

Her mother’s expression, backlit by the sun, wasn’t visible—but she clearly patted Professor Im’s back, stiffly, once.

That was why Jugyeong slowly pulled her hand free from her mother’s grip. After finishing her reunion with Jugyeong’s mother, Professor Im bent her knees and smiled awkwardly.

“I still remember you babbling as a toddler—when did you grow up so much? Have you been well all this time?”

Jugyeong, who had overheard her mother talking to Professor Im on the phone at her father’s crematorium, wondered why she was being asked that at all.

Especially when the gentle hand stroking her cheek made her stomach twist painfully. Jugyeong nodded and edged back slightly.

At that, her mother placed a firm hand on Jugyeong’s shoulder and cast her a cold look.

“When an adult is speaking to you, don’t just nod like that. Where are your manners?”

As if to smooth things over, Professor Im stepped in.

“She must be tired after traveling all this way. Don’t be so hard on her. Come to think of it, I’m the only one who knows Jugyeong—this is the first time Jugyeong’s meeting me, so of course she’d feel awkward.”

“…….”

“Jugyeong, you’re nine this year, right?”

Fidgeting with her fingers, Jugyeong forced out a voice that felt blocked in her throat.

“…Yes.”

Professor Im beamed and guided Jugyeong toward the villa.

“I have a son named Seju—he’s your age. He was so excited about another kid his age coming that I can’t even tell you.”

As she walked, half-dragged along by Professor Im’s hand, Jugyeong wanted to look back at her mother. She wondered what kind of expression she was wearing—but couldn’t bring herself to turn around.

It was hot. So hot it felt like the top of her head might burn.

Summer had once been Jugyeong’s favorite season—sharing ripe tomatoes with her father in the garden shade—but now, she hates anything hot.

Especially when it was cramped and hot. At least the villa was large enough to help.

“If Jugyeong has fun here this summer, I won’t ask for anything more.”

“…….”

“I just hope the villa ends up being exactly to Jugyeong’s liking.”

Inside, the ceilings were so high she had to tilt her head back until her neck stiffened just to glimpse them. A massive chandelier reflected off the polished marble floor, and the foyer table at the center of the hall overflowed with hydrangeas that looked freshly cut.

Her hazel eyes followed the spiral staircase rising along the wall.

And that was when she saw him.

A boy her age, wearing a sage-green linen shirt paired with cream-colored chinos.

He was on the second-floor railing, gagging and sobbing like he was about to faint.

“Seju, Dad’s sorry. Okay? Stop crying and listen to me—”

Her aunt’s husband, who ran an investment firm in New York, was drenched in sweat.

“It had my name written on it!”

“Th-that—”

“It was mine! My treasure! Why did you throw it away without asking me?! Why! What am I supposed to do now, what am I supposed to do noooow…!”

The boy clung to his father’s pant leg, kicking and thrashing wildly. He stomped so loudly that the sleepiness that had plagued Jugyeong all day vanished at once.

“Honey!”

Professor Im, gripping Jugyeong’s shoulder and darting her gaze between her husband and son, finally shouted.

“Don’t just stand there—stop Seju.”

Jugyeong realized then.

He wasn’t crying—

He was just screaming bloody murder.

She didn’t know who looked at whom first.

Their eyes simply met for a brief moment.

As if he’d never been straining his neck veins in fury, the boy pressed his lips into a straight line. The sight was oddly prim—yet his pupils, glossy like black go stones, didn’t waver.

He stared straight at her so intently it was disconcerting. She thought she even saw the bridge of his nose slowly flush red.

That was their first meeting.