Chapter 31
“Ugh, hideous.”
I stared at my reflection — eyes so swollen even glasses couldn’t hide them — and judged myself mercilessly.
Falling so far below my own beauty standards, I ripped off the glasses and dunked my face into the sink.
Splash, splash!
I scrubbed for a while, long enough that my face began to sting from the cold water, before finally lifting my head.
“Phew.”
My shirt was soaked from the rough washing, but at least I looked a little better.
Pulling a handkerchief from my bag, I wiped my face roughly, put the glasses back on, and fell silent again.
“……”
Honestly, if I could have lived in the restroom inside the memorial hall, I would’ve.
We really cried our hearts out — tears, snot, hiccups, the whole mess. Like a kid who’d just had her favorite toy taken away.
At some point, as the sobbing gradually subsided, I realized someone was patting my back.
It must have been Yoon-jae, comforting me the entire time.
“Damn it.”
When the emotional storm finally passed, I was left with nothing but crushing embarrassment.
Had I ever felt this mortified in my life?
Probably not.
Overwhelmed by the humiliation, I had bolted into the restroom — and for the past ten minutes, I’d done nothing but wash my face, rubbing at my swollen eyes.
“This is ridiculous, seriously.”
I hadn’t cried this hard since I was twelve.
If he teased me for this forever, I’d have no defense.
But beyond the sheer embarrassment, there was… something else. Something even more confusing.
Thump-thump.
“What the hell, why is this happening? Hey, get it together!”
Even scolding myself didn’t help.
The feeling came from the memory of being held and soothed in Ha Yoon-jae’s arms.
His face hadn’t changed — still expressionless as always — yet somehow, it had seemed so gentle.
Why did I suddenly see something different in that face?
Why did that stoic expression look… kind?
Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
Smack, smack.
“Hey! Stop it! Don’t start this nonsense, I’m firing you, heart!”
I hit my left chest hard, shaking my head furiously.
Apparently, it didn’t occur to me that firing my heart would only hurt me.
“It’s just my type, that’s all. Yeah, he’s exactly my type, that’s it.”
That was the only explanation I could allow myself to admit.
Turning on the tap again, I rinsed my hands — and then noticed the ring still stuck on my finger.
I twisted it absently with my other hand.
“Why won’t this come off?”
It wasn’t painfully tight, yet for some reason it wouldn’t budge.
It felt glued in place — the more I tried to force it off, the redder and puffier my finger became.
“Ugh, damn it.”
Strain, strain.
Still tugging at the ring as I left the restroom, I found Yoon-jae waiting outside.
“What are you doing now?”
The word ‘now’ made it sound like he was already on guard against more nonsense.
Feeling awkward, I raised my hand and pointed to the ring.
“No, it’s just… this thing won’t come off. It went on fine earlier, but now it’s— ow!”
Before I could finish, he stepped closer and took my hand — without asking.
Startled, my heart jumped violently in my chest again.
Thump-thump.
Why did his casual, downward gaze feel so… sensual?
Why did those slightly lowered eyelids and long lashes look that seductive?
Why did his fingers, brushing against mine as he examined the ring, seem so… suggestive?
…And right about there, I inhaled sharply.
Oh my god, what is wrong with you?!
Clearly, something had short-circuited in me after crying that much.
I shook my head hard again.
Noticing my odd reaction, Yoon-jae finally asked,
“Don’t like it?”
The low voice made my chest tighten, and before I knew it, excuses tumbled out.
“N-no, it’s not that I dislike it… it’s just… I’m not really used to this.”
“Then keep it on.”
“…Huh?”
Without further explanation, he pushed the ring — which I’d just managed to loosen a little — firmly back onto my finger.
Click.
“W-wait, what?”
“Done?”
He asked as if nothing had happened, watching the ring settle neatly back in place.
Now it was my turn to flounder.
My eyes darted back and forth. “Uh, well, about earlier — the reason I cried, you see… I think I might be going through early menopause or someth—”
“Don’t cry again.”
His voice cut through my rambling.
Thud.
My heart dropped as if someone had grabbed it in their fist.
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
“It’s a hassle comforting you.”
“…Oh.”
Pfffft.
Like a balloon losing air, all my puffed-up emotions deflated at once.
He looked down slightly at my wilted expression.
“What?”
The loose strands of hair falling over his brow, the soft tone of his voice — for some reason, they made me flare up again.
I brushed past him, trying to sound irritated.
“Nothing. Let’s go home.”
Clack, clack.
The sharp sound of her heels against marble echoed as she stormed off, and Yoon-jae’s lips curved faintly — before a quiet sigh escaped.
“…Haa.”
Something in Ha Yoon-jae was changing — something he could no longer ignore.
The darkness outside seeped into the office, filling it with a bleak stillness.
Director Hong looked at Yoon-jae, who stood by the window, and spoke in a steady tone.
“It seems you’ll need to prepare yourself.”
Hong, his secretary of many years, was known for his emotionless, measured voice — which somehow made him all the more trustworthy.
Flick.
Yoon-jae took a cigarette and placed it between his lips.
He almost never smoked in the office, but tonight, he didn’t care.
“……”
The white cigarette burned quickly between his long fingers.
Smoke filled the air, heavy and acrid, rising toward the vent — but not all of it disappeared.
He’d expected this news. Just not this soon.
He’d thought he could hold out a little longer.
“…Haa.”
Another puff hit the glass and dispersed into the air outside.
In thirty minutes, the smell and smoke would be gone from the office —
but faint traces would cling to him.
Holding the half-burned cigarette, he finally said to Hong,
“Go home.”
“I’ll drive you—”
“I said go.”
With that curt gesture, Yoon-jae turned his back completely.
Even through the tailored jacket, the mix of stoicism and quiet loneliness was palpable.
The mountain of paperwork on his desk showed he had no intention of leaving anytime soon.
Knowing his boss too well, Hong simply bowed and left the office.
Alone again.
Ten years.
If he counted properly, maybe more.
It had been over a decade since he’d come to Yeongdo and taken the surname Ha.
About ten years since he’d decided to stay in this fortress of a life.
“Yoon-jae, you have no idea how powerful your bloodline is.”
“They’ll come for you someday — they have to.”
“You’re his only son, after all.”
A man born into privilege — and cursed by it.
Years spent clinging to that one identity.
And somehow, absurd prayers had reached heaven, because one day, they did come for him.
Though the person who had always prayed for that was no longer lucid enough to understand it.
And now, even that chapter was nearing its end.
Rubbing his tense neck, Yoon-jae glanced at the clock.
8 p.m.
Normally, he’d still be deep in work. At this rate, he’d be here past midnight again.
Come to think of it, ever since that day at the memorial hall, he hadn’t been home on time once.
He barely even saw her anymore — just fleeting glimpses.
Thump.
His brow furrowed as his heart suddenly pounded again.
That rhythm — that inconvenient, uncontrollable beat — was the main reason for his late nights.
It was a feeble strategy to avoid crossing a line he shouldn’t.
Whether it worked or not, he wasn’t sure.
But lately, every time he saw her, his composure faltered.
“Hold me.”
“You’re my husband, aren’t you?”
Like a mosquito buzzing in his ear, her voice lingered endlessly.
Her teary eyes, so wide and trembling, struck at his heart each time.
The moment he pulled her into his arms — purely instinct, not reason — he realized something had changed.
Something inside him.
He’d already accepted that things weren’t the same as before —
but that didn’t mean he was used to Joo Ae-jung yet.
“Different.”
That word alone explained the problem.
She was different in every way — those bright, foolish eyes, that awkward face.
“I thought you ran away from home.”
He remembered her saying that once.
“……”
A woman he’d expected to be a short-lived, passing companion — a year at most.
And yet, because of that unpredictable wife of his, Yoon-jae stubbed out his cigarette, shut his laptop, grabbed his jacket, and walked out of the office.
He was tired. Especially after the unpleasant news he’d just received.
Click.
And waiting outside was Hong, about to leave for the night.
“…Executive Director?”
Yoon-jae looked every bit like a man going home early.
The same man who, moments ago, had looked ready to work until dawn.
“……”
It was strange enough to make Hong blink in confusion.
Yoon-jae rarely — if ever — left before midnight.
A bit awkward, yes.
But Yoon-jae didn’t bother explaining himself. He just said one word:
“Going home.”
No excuses. No reason.
“Ah— y-yes, sir. Have a good evening.”
After he left, Hong checked the clock again.
9 p.m. — barely evening by Yoon-jae’s standards.
“What on earth…”
Scratching his head, he muttered softly to himself.
“Just like someone else.”
Because he, too, could feel it —
the unmistakable beginning of a change in Ha Yoon-jae.
