Chapter 16
At last, Seoha made up her mind and tilted her head.
Her silky hair slipped softly along the curve of her ear.
Perhaps he hadn’t expected her to go this far, because Junhyuk’s head shifted slightly backward.
But the next moment, Seoha’s heated lips pressed against his cool ones.
Even now, he was inexplicably cold while she felt like she was burning up.
After pressing her lips against his a little more deeply, Seoha pulled away and whispered softly,
“I stamped it. Is that enough now?”
Perhaps she had misjudged him again, because a deep sigh escaped between Han Junhyuk’s lips.
When Seoha tried to pull herself back slightly, Junhyuk wrapped both arms around her slender waist and abruptly pulled her closer.
Their cool breaths mingled once again, and soon his lips completely swallowed hers.
His hot tongue slipped through the slight gap between her parted lips.
There was neither haste nor hesitation in Han Junhyuk’s kiss.
It was simply natural, as though he were confirming an answer he had known for a long time.
Seoha felt so miserable that her chest ached at how clumsy she alone seemed to be.
His faint breaths brushed against her cheeks, warming them, while the spreading heat seeped into her lips with a tingling sensation.
Whenever the tip of his tongue brushed against her sensitive spots and withdrew, a strange sensation spread like a spark, heating her entire body.
The intensity of it was almost painful, and her heart clenched wildly in her chest.
The urge to pull away tangled with the fear that she might fall even deeper, leaving her precariously caught between the two.
As Seoha’s mind gradually went blank, her fingers instinctively clenched the fabric of his shirt.
Whether her eyes were open or closed, there was only the sensation of one man filling her entire world.
“……Haa.”
Still unused to kissing, Seoha twisted her head away to catch her breath.
Only then did Junhyuk finally pull his lips away.
His hot breath still lingered, as though the kiss hadn’t truly ended, leaving behind an aftertaste of warmth.
Burying his lips somewhere between her ear and the nape of her neck, he whispered quietly,
“That much is necessary for it to count as a proper stamp.”
Seoha’s cheeks instantly flushed.
Her heart pounded so violently that her entire chest felt numb.
The moment she realized just how close his face was to her chest, Seoha’s body stiffened.
But Junhyuk ignored her reaction and simply said what he wanted to say.
“If you’re doing this knowingly, it’s dangerous. If you’re doing it without knowing what you’re doing, then you’re hopeless.”
His breath brushed against Seoha’s skin as she lowered her gaze as though trying to escape.
Her heart was still pounding wildly, but Junhyuk straightened as if he had already erased the kiss from his mind.
As he deliberately broke the lingering heat on their lips, the atmosphere in the office instantly turned cold.
Seoha’s mind finally returned to reality.
Junhyuk lifted her into his arms and set her down on the sofa.
Startled by the strange sense of disappointment she suddenly felt, Seoha blinked.
“Read this.”
Junhyuk placed a document in her hands and spoke coldly.
The man who had kissed her so passionately only moments ago had already disappeared somewhere.
“It’s the contract we talked about.”
Seoha nodded stiffly and placed her hand over the document.
She could feel faint indentations beneath her fingertips.
It’s written in Braille.
Surprised by Junhyuk’s meticulousness and preparation, Seoha began running her fingers over the contract.
Most of it contained the things they had already discussed.
Then, at one particular clause, Seoha’s long fingers suddenly stopped moving.
Seeing her remain motionless, Junhyuk snatched the contract from her hands and muttered,
“Looks like you found that part rather interesting. If so, I’ll read it for you myself.”
Perhaps because of the unexpected kiss, his voice was slightly hoarse, but he read the words clearly.
“Article 3, Clause 2. The contracted party shall faithfully fulfill her duties as a spouse. Ah, of course, you’re an adult, so you already know, but that includes sleeping together.”
Junhyuk placed the contract on the table and casually took Seoha’s finger, guiding it toward the page.
“You read the rest yourself. It’s a rather important section.”
Feeling as though her chest had been squeezed tight, Seoha drew a deep breath into her lungs before moving her lips.
“……Contraception shall not be used until pregnancy occurs.”
To be honest, Seoha had never even thought about having a child.
Unlike him, Junhyuk urged her onward.
“Keep reading.”
Barely suppressing the lump in her throat, she continued.
“The contracted party shall maintain a stable and safe lifestyle until childbirth is completed and shall not intentionally engage in any act that threatens her own life or physical well-being……”
Seoha failed to hide the tremble in her eyes and looked up toward where Junhyuk was standing.
She couldn’t understand what he was thinking at all.
She was more than a little confused by the possibility that he genuinely wanted an heir from her—even from a wife who couldn’t see.
She had assumed that the purpose of this marriage was no different for Han Junhyuk than it was for her.
In Seoha’s mind, their relationship was nothing more than a meaningless arrangement that could end whenever both sides had obtained what they needed from each other.
No. It’s fine. They’re just words written on paper.
Seoha dismissed the contract as though it had no real meaning.
But the clauses didn’t end there.
When she reached the clause stating that disappearing without her husband’s consent would also result in penalties, Seoha’s fingers curled in bewilderment.
She had longed for complete freedom, only to realize that she might end up living under even greater restrictions.
She let out a hollow laugh.
I might end up burning down the whole house just trying to catch a flea.
Yet there was one thing even a man like Han Junhyuk could never anticipate.
Yoon Seoha was a natural-born liar who could say anything if it meant surviving.
If she could deceive even herself, there was no reason she couldn’t deceive him—a stranger.
Saying yes and then acting out a no was as easy as drinking cold porridge for Seoha.
“Okay…… Where should I sign?”
“Is there anything you want to change or add?”
At Junhyuk’s question, Seoha shook her head.
After all, as far as she was concerned, this contract had neither justification nor legal force.
“Ah…… There is one thing I’d like to ask.”
“Tell me.”
After hesitating for a moment, Seoha finally spoke.
Since they had even registered their marriage, she decided it would be best to make the most important point clear now.
“What you said to me before—is it still valid?”
“What did I say?”
“You said that your house is our home now, so where did I think I was going? You accused me of running away from home.”
At her unexpected question, a questioning sound escaped between Junhyuk’s lips.
“And what are you going to do if it is still valid?”
“If it is, then I want to stay with you starting today.”
That much wasn’t a lie either.
Of course, the biggest reason was that she didn’t want to return to the house where Cha Mi-yeon lived.
But that was something Han Junhyuk didn’t need to know.
At Seoha’s honest words, Junhyuk let out a breath that sounded almost like a sigh.
There was a faint trace of irritation in it, and Seoha cautiously watched his expression, wondering if she had made another mistake.
“Yoon Seoha.”
It was the first time Junhyuk had called her by her name.
Seoha barely managed to suppress the strange sound that almost escaped her lips.
“Yes.”
“My house isn’t a place you can come and go from whenever you feel like it.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you understand at all.”
Junhyuk muttered suspiciously, apparently finding her sudden change in attitude strange.
Seoha then drove the point home.
“From now on, you’re my guardian, aren’t you?”
“……”
“And I don’t want to go back to the house where my parents are.”
She knew he wasn’t an easy man to deal with, but his refusal to readily agree surprised Seoha.
The man who had suggested living together before had now gone as far as registering their marriage, so she couldn’t understand why he was suddenly being so lukewarm about it.
Surely Junhyuk had already realized that she couldn’t possibly feel comfortable staying in a household that was forcing an arranged marriage on its adopted daughter.
So now that she had drawn her sword, she had to cut something with it.
“I’m already an adult who can take care of myself. If I stay at my parents’ house, they’ll keep treating me like a child, and I don’t want to live like that. Being treated like a child by you is already enough.”
“You call a brat a brat. What else am I supposed to call you?”
Junhyuk dismissed her words in an indifferent tone.
In response, Seoha reached into the crossbody bag hanging from her shoulder and pulled out a pen.
Then, on the edge of the paper contract lying on the table, Seoha signed her name by hand.
The moment the pen nib dug into the paper, Seoha asked herself:
Do I know whether this door leads to freedom—or to a prison?
But even before she could find an answer, her hand continued moving.
“I signed it. Now neither of us can back out.”
Everything was entirely her own choice.
Her decisions had always pulled her out of the darkness of life, and every time, they had demanded a steep price in return.
Just this once, let the light be greater than the darkness.
When she looked back on this moment at the very end of her life, Seoha could only pray desperately that, at least this time, she had made the right choice.
