Chapter 12
that you provided
The first time he ever truly noticed Joo Ae-jung—whose existence he had never once been conscious of—was in the spring, less than a month after he had returned to school.
When Yoon-jae, who had slept through the end of class, finally opened his eyes, his gaze naturally fell to the seat in front of him, where she sat, visible from the tiered steps.
[Stop, stop…]
Ae-jung was muttering something under her breath as she bit her nails.
Though her long hair covered most of it, the tips of her fingers were raw and bloody from being chewed too much.
She was so absorbed that she hadn’t even closed her book after class had ended, biting until she drew blood. At that moment, when the pain crossed her threshold, she jerked her hand away from her mouth.
[…Ah!]
Thunk.
As she lowered her hand, startled by the sting, a handkerchief suddenly dropped onto her desk.
Shocked by the handkerchief that fell from nowhere, she whipped around—and there was Yoon-jae, packing up his bag.
He looked at her blankly and said curtly,
[Throw it away.]
Then, without another glance, he walked straight out of the lecture hall.
That was the only clear memory Yoon-jae had of Joo Ae-jung.
And when they met again, the faint marks on her wrist, despite being small, were impossible to overlook.
So when this contract began, the very first condition he laid down was this:
“Don’t get hurt.”
Never get hurt.
He held her—our—hand, eyes unwavering, and under the unusually bright sky wore the scariest expression. In that moment, we just stared up at Yoon-jae, dumbfounded.
Thump-thump.
Maybe it was because it was strange seeing him like this outside, on such a beautiful day.
Or maybe it was just the unintentional setup of the scene. Whatever the reason, feeling her heart pounding impurely, she bit her lip.
‘What the heck, am I… startled?’
Her heart was racing so fast that she forgot to pull her hand free.
His hand was hot. Not from an injury, but from holding hers.
At least it meant her burn wasn’t too severe. Carefully, she parted her lips, which she hadn’t realized were pressed shut.
“Yes.”
Like an obedient child.
Only after that reply did his eyes, which had been fixed on her, drop down. He flipped her hand over like a pancake on a frying pan.
The back of her hand was red, but it didn’t look like it would scar.
“…”
But in turning her hand, the faint mark on her wrist came into view.
Not dark, but unmistakable once seen.
“Did you do this yourself?”
Yoon-jae’s brow furrowed sharply.
“If you don’t want to do something, just say so. I didn’t bring you here to self-harm.”
That absurd question snapped her out of her daze.
“Am I crazy? Why would I do something like that? I’m someone who doesn’t want the slightest scratch. Even if I died today, I’d never hurt myself.”
She quickly yanked her hand back and blew on the stinging burn. For a moment, his eyes flickered with doubt, but she didn’t notice.
“You won’t?”
“Of course not! I hate pain.”
“….”
“What if it leaves a scar?”
What Yoon-jae thought didn’t matter to her. After watching her silently for a moment, he shoved his hands into his pockets.
“You’re fine. Go to the infirmary.”
“If I’m fine, why would I go? You only go because you’re not fine. Seriously, what a strange person…”
“Excuse me.”
A small voice cut into their conversation, which had long since forgotten its place and audience.
Both turned at once. Whoever it was flinched, then carefully spoke.
“…The two of you, are you…?”
The unfinished words said enough.
‘…Crap.’
Countless eyes burned into them.
Hours spent working at the food truck without being noticed—and now, like arrows, attention rained down on her.
It wasn’t that Go Woo-ri was burdened by stares, but the situation was far from ideal.
Clearly, the curiosity was: Who is this woman talking with Executive Director Ha Yoon-jae?
Especially when, across the room, pale faces went even whiter at the sight—it was awkward.
‘What do I say?’
She hadn’t planned on this dramatic a scene, and all the attention was uncomfortable.
Tsk.
Waving her still-stinging hand in the air, she blinked quickly, then answered with a deliberately vague explanation:
“Today we just… came together, with the same purpose… we live together too, but it’s not like we’re in any special relationship.”
The words circled clumsily, avoiding one certain term. Then Yoon-jae cut in:
“She is.”
His words, which began ambiguously, ended short and clear.
“My wife.”
Clatter.
Somewhere, a dish fell.
The woman they had dismissed, ignored, and sent to fetch coffee—turned out to be the wife of the event’s effective host.
And as expected, chaos erupted.
Confusion, uproar.
After dodging the crowd trying to make amends, she finally used her injury as an excuse to retreat to the infirmary. When the nurse left, she collapsed onto the table with a groan.
“Ughhh.”
Her tired hand dangled off the edge. Watching her groan, Yoon-jae spoke.
“This isn’t what you wanted?”
She turned her head slightly.
“What do you mean?”
“You must’ve known I’d show up. And you could’ve expected this commotion.”
His unfriendly phrasing gave her a headache.
‘So what he means is…’
He thought this was all some scheme to make herself the center of attention.
She let out a short laugh and pushed herself upright, propping her head with one arm.
“Ha Yoon-jae, you really don’t know Joo Ae-jung, do you? How could this timid, indecisive girl—who only pretends to be strong—ever plan something like that?”
“What?”
“She didn’t choose this place for drama. She just wanted to hide, to be quiet, to do work that required no thinking. That’s all.”
“…”
“And she probably worried about being a burden to you, too.”
She couldn’t be certain, but from what little she’d seen, Ae-jung didn’t seem like the type to show off.
Shrugging, she added,
“That’s just her personality, I think.”
The strange conclusion made Yoon-jae tilt his head.
“What kind of tone is that?”
“Sometimes I’ll talk like this. Just let it slide, it’s too tiring to fix it every time.”
Her shameless reply left him exasperated.
But still, her defense was unexpectedly reasonable. When Ae-jung said she’d go to the food truck, it probably hadn’t been with any ulterior motive.
“And that thing you said earlier.”
Sitting upright now, she looked up at him with bright eyes that were no longer surprising.
“The part about not getting hurt.”
For the briefest moment, his gaze wavered.
“Were you… worried?”
From the start, that had been bothering her.
[I told you. Don’t get hurt.]
His words carried some unknown weight, and oddly touched her.
Maybe it was because she’d never heard anything like that in her life.
Or maybe it was because this relationship was not what she had assumed.
But Yoon-jae gave a very neat reason:
“As long as you’re living with me, don’t even think about self-harm or anything stupid. I don’t want pointless suspicion.”
Cold, practical. Enough to crush any budding sentiment.
“Oh, so that’s why.”
What she’d thought was candy turned out to be a stone—but still, she felt relief.
She didn’t know why, but she did.
Shaking her bandaged hand lightly, she said:
“If you can’t be a real husband, at least pretend.”
And for the first time, seeing the faint scar on her wrist, she felt real curiosity about Joo Ae-jung—not Go Woo-ri.
What did those marks, the signs of letting go, really mean?
‘A year… must be the contract period for this marriage.’
And what benefit did Joo Ae-jung hope to gain from this arrangement?
For the first time, she seriously thought about the true owner of this body.
‘I need to find out more about Joo Ae-jung.’
As she rose to her feet, she thought about the next step forward.
“Are you going back to the booth?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“No.”
Going back would only make everyone uncomfortable. It would be self-torment.
She brushed her hand against the flag posted in the infirmary: Prevent Child Abuse.
And in that strange, disorienting moment, only one thought remained.
[I’m still young. I am myself.]
Feeling something clear inside, she smiled brightly.
“I’ve been comforted enough.”
