Chapter 12
Alexander Lafoix’s painting Whispers of a Starry Night depicted a woman wandering through a mysterious forest beneath a star-studded sky, painted in the artist’s unique style.
The woman in the painting seemed at times to be dancing, at times crying, sometimes sorrowful, sometimes empty.
The fact that the painting’s impression changed every time one looked at it was proof that it was truly a masterpiece. But in Cheonmyeong, this painting held a value beyond that of a mere work of art.
It was, in a sense, part of the family’s history.
“I’m not saying you have to like me right away. But I hope you’ll at least think about it.”
“To be honest, I was a little surprised today.”
Though he didn’t say it aloud, Yoon Seong-hoon knew that the necklace Kang Dasom had brought was the very one Jang Joo-bin had long wanted.
He knew because, after hearing about Jang Joo-bin making a scene at the department store, he had secretly tried to track it down himself in hopes of earning points with his mother.
But just what kind of necklace was so ridiculously difficult to find? He couldn’t understand.
“I thought you were just a kid, but I see you differently now.”
“I just told you, didn’t I? I’m greedy. So what now—are you really going to toss me aside and keep fooling around with some low-class woman? Hm?”
“Hey! Don’t compare them to you. And I already told you, I’m done with that. I even introduced you to the chairman—what would happen if I messed up now? Sorry for disappointing you. …And well, thanks for trusting me, too, I guess?”
Seong-hoon scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. It wasn’t that he hadn’t met women Jang Joo-bin had introduced him to.
But not a single one matched him. Maybe because they had all grown up spoiled in wealthy households, they wanted a man who worshiped them.
What’s wrong with a person making a mistake or two in life?
But each time, those women had blamed him and demanded a breakup. Kang Dasom was the first to say she would trust him.
“Even if it’s late, I should still introduce you properly.”
“Mm.”
Awkward, Seong-hoon shifted the conversation. Maybe thanks to the necklace, Jang Joo-bin wasn’t paying much attention to Dasom.
Dasom knew all too well that in such situations, acting natural only fueled people’s curiosity.
Eventually, they reached Yoon Jin-woo.
“We meet again.”
“Seems so.”
“Hehe. Hey, why didn’t you bring Hana along too?”
Maybe because of the attention he was getting, Seong-hoon’s shoulders swelled with pride. Jin-woo, meanwhile, quietly sipped his cocktail.
The birthday party wrapped up after about an hour or two, once Chairman Yoon, claiming fatigue, had retired.
Behind the annex was a small garden with a pond and a pavilion.
It had once been cared for by the chairman’s late wife, but as it was tucked away so deep, hardly anyone visited it anymore—only maintenance kept it alive.
In one corner of the garden stood a small cabin.
Kang Dasom sat on its steps, gazing up at the night sky. Moonlight shimmered through drifting clouds.
Step.
At the sound of grass being trodden, she slowly lowered her head. Yoon Jin-woo stood there, dressed in casual clothes.
“Aren’t you a little uncomfortable being here, even at home?”
Though not in a suit, his black pants and thin autumn knit hardly looked casual. They definitely weren’t sleepwear.
Dasom wore a white nightdress that barely covered her thighs. Through the fabric, faint red marks showed. Jin-woo turned his head, averting his gaze.
“What are you trying to pull here?”
“What do you mean?”
“The text.”
He hadn’t planned on staying the night. Just as he was about to head home, Dasom had texted him—at 3 a.m., telling him to meet her there.
He’d been so taken aback, he couldn’t look away from his phone for a while.
Should he scold her for summoning him at such an hour, or ask how she even knew about this hidden garden?
In the end, he hadn’t replied. Unable to refuse his mother’s insistence that he stay, he lay awake in bed until 3 a.m.
“Are you crazy? What if I hadn’t come out?”
“Then I would’ve just gotten some air and gone back in.”
“How do you even know about this place?”
Dasom abruptly stood and stepped toward him. Her long, slender fingers and pale collarbone peeked out from beneath her oversized nightdress, brushing against Jin-woo’s gaze. As her fingertips neared his lips, he startled and grabbed her wrist.
“Are you insane—”
“No need to know everything, is there?”
She reacted lightly, almost as if she had expected him to grab her wrist. Yet absurdly, his lips still burned where her fingers had nearly touched.
Should he have let her touch him?
What was this woman thinking?
Jin-woo hastily let go of her wrist.
“I won the bet.”
“How on earth is that a win? You lost.”
“But you came.”
“…”
“Did I ever say what time you had to? You showed up, so I won.”
“If you dragged me out here at this hour just to play word games, I’m leaving.”
Jin-woo turned his back.
“Jin-woo.”
“…”
“Why did you ask me to come?”
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been curious.
Maybe she’d just happened upon his number by chance, but he never imagined she’d be the one to ask him out first.
“If you hadn’t called, I wouldn’t have come. Then you’d have won, wouldn’t you?”
“You lie too well. You could be an actress.”
Jin-woo turned back slowly. He knew about the necklace she had given Seong-hoon—the very one Jang Joo-bin couldn’t get even with money.
There was no way she had prepared it in a rush after fighting with Seong-hoon and arriving late. From the start, Dasom must have planned to fight with him and arrive late.
To Jin-woo, Dasom seemed like a nine-tailed fox—
a creature that lured and drove men mad.
She gazed at him with feigned innocence, eyes wide, pretending to know nothing. Clearly acting. And she’d keep it up if he let her.
“Let’s eat.”
“Why would I?”
“Because I won the bet.”
Her confident stance left Jin-woo speechless.
“You could’ve just texted that. Why drag me here? No—what exactly are you trying to do with me right now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Drop the act. What are you after?”
This time Jin-woo moved toward her. But he stopped short, noticing her attire.
“Do whatever you want—seduce my brother, scam him, whatever. I’ll pretend not to notice. But this—this is distasteful.”
“It’s just a conversation. What’s the big deal? I didn’t get a chance to talk at the party.”
“Dressed like that? At this hour? If you’re going to cast a spell, do it on my brother only, Miss Kang Dasom.”
“Cast a spell? I’ve never done that.”
“Coming to me with this after sleeping with him—who would believe you? Are you really insane?”
Dasom noticed his gaze brushing her bare thigh. She touched it lightly, parting her lips with a soft ah.
Then she plopped back onto the pavilion bench and lifted the hem of her dress slightly.
“It’s just a mosquito bite.”
“…”
“And no, I didn’t sleep with Seong-hoon. Want to check?”
Half of that was a lie.
That beast Seong-hoon would never have resisted the moment he entered the room. Expecting that, she had slipped in earlier and laced his drink with something.
Her hand trailed up her thigh as the fabric slid higher. Alarmed, Jin-woo rushed forward, reaching out—and his hand brushed against her skin.
“Ah.”
In that instant, Jin-woo realized he’d been tricked. He pulled his hand back, but not before glimpsing the angry red welt of a mosquito bite.
Before he could even admit his mistake, his heart was pounding. He stood abruptly, turning away. Mosquito bites didn’t matter.
“Let’s pretend tonight never happened. For both our sakes—”
“No one knows. About us meeting here.”
“I already have someone. So—”
“Do you love her?”
Jin-woo steadied his breath, forcing clarity into his mind. What did she just say?
“If not love, then why meet her?”
“I mean—does she love you as much as you love her?”
His eyes quivered.
Before his regression, Seong-hoon and Jung Hana had carried on an affair. Once, Seong-hoon even brought a child along, but never revealed who the mother was.
Back then, Jin-woo and Hana had two sons and a daughter together. But were those children really his?
Was Seong-hoon the only man Hana had been with?
“You really are… a pitiful person.”
Dasom knew now—Jin-woo was just like her.
A fragile butterfly, fluttering desperately, unable to escape someone else’s shadow, crying out for a love that had no worth.
