PR 04

Chapter 04 …

Chaido visited the room every day and personally fed her dinner. He even joked horribly that he wished it were her leg that had broken instead of her arm, since it was so inconvenient.

Whenever he came into the room, he wore a bright ivory-toned suit, which somehow made him look more gentle and benevolent.

He wore suits that seemed like they shouldn’t suit him at all, yet he carried them perfectly. Whether it was out of consideration for her or simply a coincidence, the black-clad men who used to follow him no longer came into the room.

Every night, he also personally bathed her and washed her hair. She had gotten somewhat used to it, but she still flinched each time his hands touched her—it was a reaction beyond her control.

It felt different from being handled by unfamiliar servants.

For some reason, it was hard for her to look him straight in the eye.

Whenever that happened, her heart would start pounding unpleasantly. It got worse when he gave a faint smile or made some teasing remark.

Thankfully, aside from taking care of her basic needs, he didn’t cross any lines. Even when he saw her submerged in the bathtub, Chaido didn’t show the slightest ripple of emotion.

His gaze swept over her as dryly as if he were looking at still bathwater or solid toiletries.

He never splashed water on her cast either, as if he were someone experienced in nursing care. She wondered how many times he had handled situations like this.

She should have felt relieved, yet at the same time, impatience gnawed at her. If only he acted like an ordinary man—it would have been easier to figure him out.

It was obvious that even if she asked why he was helping her, he wouldn’t give her a straight answer. He was kind on the surface but not the type to explain things in detail.

Chaido still hadn’t told her anything about her family’s whereabouts. But Sehee chose not to pester him and waited obediently. She feared that if she upset him, she might never hear news of her father and Sejin again.

He wasn’t interested in her to begin with, so if she became a nuisance, even the small mercy he showed might vanish. And if that happened, any promises would disappear with it.

So she simply followed his instructions like a child waiting for a reward—she washed when told, slept when told, and quietly ate what was given.

“Looks like your appetite’s back. You must be feeling better.”

Chaido stopped stirring the soup with his spoon as he watched Sehee quickly swallow what was in her mouth and open it again.

“I’m glad you’re adapting quickly.”

Realizing her mouth was still wide open, Sehee slowly closed it halfway.

Of course, she wanted to be obedient, but that reaction just now had been pure instinct.

In truth, she hadn’t eaten properly since morning.

The servants who brought meals in all gave her openly disdainful looks. The food they threw down carelessly often fell to the floor before her trembling left hand could even bring it to her mouth.

Her left hand wasn’t normally clumsy, but with one arm in a sling, even simple movements were difficult.

Ha.

The servants would sigh irritably and then clear the dishes from the bed. Even while changing her wet clothes and pulling back the blankets, they didn’t bother to hide their displeasure.

Asking for even small favors made her self-conscious.

She endured her hunger and tried to sleep, but when pain came suddenly, the call bell went unanswered. She couldn’t even find the painkillers she needed to take regularly unless Chaido brought them himself.

She hadn’t planned it this way, but she found herself counting the hours until he came home. Maybe that, too, was part of his calculation.

“You need to get yourself together if you want to make any plans,” he had said, wrapping it up nicely. But after a whole day without food, the only plan she could think of was for the spoon in front of her to fill her empty stomach.

In this house, the only person she could rely on was Chaido. She didn’t know his motives, but at least in front of her, he was kind.

“You made a good choice.”

His eyes narrowed slightly in a smile—gentle yet distant.

“It’s easier for both of us this way.”

He looked as if he’d expected her to nag persistently about her family’s whereabouts or beg to be let outside.

Two weeks had already passed since the cast had been put on her arm.

“Pick up the spoon,” Chaido said, nodding toward her left hand on the bed tray.

“So that next time you get hurt, you won’t starve to death.”

He added the remark like a joke, saying he couldn’t always be by her side—and that there were still plenty of people out there targeting her.

After a brief hesitation, Sehee slowly reached for the spoon in his hand.

His hand overlapped hers naturally, wrapping over the back of her hand with a warmth that didn’t suit him. The faint scent of him grew closer, and discomfort clogged her throat.

‘A guest will be coming soon. Don’t ever leave the room and stay quiet. He’s not someone you want to run into. Sehee, you should only see beautiful things and learn good things. Daddy will take care of the rest…’

The spoon finally dipped into the soup.

Her hand shook even more than when she’d tried to eat alone. After much effort, only a few rice grains soaked in broth reached her mouth.

“……”

As she lowered her hand, Sehee eventually dropped the spoon. A queasy feeling rose in her stomach—whether from fear or disgust, she couldn’t tell.

“You’ll get better with practice.”

Chaido, as if nothing had happened, picked up the spoon and placed it back in her hand. Sehee swallowed a dry breath and forced strength into her left hand.

Overseas escape. Disappearance. Fugitive.

Sehee ignored the excited news broadcasts talking about her and changed the channel. All their guesses were wrong. No one would ever imagine she was hiding in Chaido’s house.

Using her left hand to eat had gradually become familiar. By now, she could eat alone during the day without his help.

But…

‘The Director will be a little late today.’

Recalling Secretary Ahn’s indifferent back as she left the food without even making eye contact, Sehee let out a small sigh.

The tray table by her bed was filled with seafood dishes she couldn’t possibly eat with one hand.

She once accidentally caught a glimpse of Secretary Ahn’s gaze toward Chaido.

That’s when she understood why the secretary was always cold toward her. Considering Chaido’s handsome appearance, it wasn’t exactly surprising.

If she had known this, she would’ve learned to use chopsticks.

She lifted the spoon, then gave up on eating altogether. She would end up going hungry again today.

Two weeks had already passed since the cast was put on her arm.

As hunger gnawed at her, she suddenly remembered the warmth of his hand wrapping around hers, and her hand, raised in midair, froze.

Chaido was the only one in the house who cared for her. He made time for her every evening. He didn’t touch her forcibly. He wasn’t overly sweet, but he showed just enough kindness to make her misunderstand.

Those ambiguous actions made her wonder if maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as bad as they said.

‘Don’t ever leave the room and stay quiet.’

Despite her father’s warning, she once hid and secretly listened to Chaido’s voice. It was inevitable to be curious about something she was told not to do.

‘Let’s go with the prosecutor’s proposal.’

Even then, she had thought: someone with a voice like that couldn’t possibly be cruel.

His calm, steady voice had the kind of allure that could make someone trust him without even seeing his face.

Even now, Sehee was subconsciously being persuaded.

If she just obediently did as Chaido said, nothing bad would happen. And maybe, eventually, he would give her what she wanted—her father and Sejin, safe and sound.

After all, pleasing others was what Sehee did best. It was an instinct she’d honed through repeated adoptions and abandonments.

“……”

Headlights flashed faintly through the curtain-covered window.

Chaido was back.

Sehee glanced at the mirror and, for the first time, stepped out of her room—completely forgetting the warning not to wander around.

Past the room at the end of the hallway stretched a long corridor with dim lighting. The house was far larger than she’d imagined. If she wasn’t careful, she might not even find her way back.

“Try again,”

she muttered to herself as she searched for the staircase.

Just then, a familiar voice echoed down the corridor.

“Think of it as the last time.”