Chapter 74. Keep the Promise
The next day, Haeyoung woke abruptly from a dream.
“…This is insane.”
Sitting up with a start, she smacked her cheeks lightly.
Maybe it was because of the compromising position she’d been in last night, but she’d dreamed about kissing Taeseong.
Not just a kiss—a deep, messy one in some secluded alley.
It wasn’t the first time, either. She’d had dreams like that often after they broke up.
If she was going to dream, couldn’t it be something wholesome? But every winter, it was always that same dream: kissing Taeseong in a hidden alley.
And they were always so vivid.
Though in recent years, she’d barely had them.
So why… why today, of all days?!
“Am I… frustrated or something?”
She pressed her fists against her temples in distress.
“…No, that can’t be it. You’d have to know what desire even feels like to be frustrated about it. Damn it…”
Having never even kissed anyone properly by thirty, there was no way she could be “frustrated.”
Feeling strangely cheated by her own subconscious, Haeyoung climbed out of bed. Today, she had to go to work.
After getting ready, she walked into the kitchen.
There was Taeseong, in just a shirt, standing at the stove. The smell told her he was making soup.
On the table sat neatly arranged bread, salad, and juice.
Her eyes drifted from the food back to his broad back.
He must have been working out hard. His shoulders and back were broader than ten years ago. The fitted shirt did nothing to hide the play of muscles shifting every time he moved the ladle.
Maybe it was the dream, but Haeyoung swallowed hard without realizing.
Just then, Taeseong turned his head toward her.
“You’re up? Come eat before work. I made enough for you too.”
“Oh… uh, yeah.”
“Mushroom soup okay?”
Her eyes darted awkwardly, but he seemed perfectly calm—as if he hadn’t almost crossed a line the night before.
Finally, after much inner turmoil, Haeyoung settled on one conclusion:
He must have blacked out from the alcohol.
Oddly, thinking that way put her at ease.
So she sat down, pretending nothing was unusual.
“Oh, that looks good! I was starving.”
“I’ll make it every morning from now on.”
Turning off the stove, Taeseong announced it like a simple fact.
“Wha—no, that’s too much! People are way too busy these days to do that…”
Her words trailed off, and a faint smile curved his lips.
With smooth, practiced motions, he poured the soup into bowls and set one in front of her.
“You promised me.”
“…What?”
“The chance to pull you closer.”
Her mouth fell open. She had been so sure he didn’t remember.
“You—you didn’t black out…?”
“Unfortunately not.”
His brows arched with playful exaggeration.
“I’ve never once blacked out from drinking.”
“You…!”
“Which means I remember everything from last night. Every single thing.”
Handing her a spoon, he said softly:
“Keep the promise.”
“….”
“The promise that you’d let me pull you in.”
Like a fish caught in a net, Haeyoung stared at him in shock.
The thirty-year-old Joo Taeseong was a frighteningly meticulous man.
After breakfast with Haeyoung, Taeseong entered his office.
His secretary, Park, who had arrived earlier, came in carrying a sandwich and tea.
“You should eat before taking your medication, sir.”
Looking over the unfinished documents from yesterday, Taeseong replied,
“I already ate.”
“…Pardon?”
“I said I ate.”
“…Why?”
With a sharp flick, Taeseong set down the papers and frowned.
“Since when is me eating breakfast in my own house something to question with a ‘why’?”
“Oh, no, it’s just—you, of all people. The same man who skipped so many meals he gave himself an ulcer, and you actually ate the hardest one to bother with: breakfast…”
Though he spoke quietly, Secretary Park had essentially said it all.
Fixing him with an even gaze, Taeseong said flatly,
“You really have no filter, do you? That’s why I like you.”
“Ahem—”
Embarrassed, Park covered his mouth and coughed. He knew full well his bluntness didn’t suit his job, and it was only thanks to a boss like Taeseong that he kept it.
Determined once again to serve him loyally, Park pulled the tablet from under his arm.
“Shall I report what you asked me to look into?”
Taeseong, his expression sharpening, nodded.
Park’s joking demeanor vanished as he spoke gravely.
“Cha Haeyoung… I don’t think she ever left the country in the first place.”
At once, Taeseong’s expression twisted.
Though normally the picture of calm and generosity, when angry, he was terrifying. Park hesitated before continuing.
Rubbing his forehead as if to control his temper, Taeseong lifted his hand.
“Go on.”
“Her records say she went to Japan by boat, not plane. But it’s likely a false departure. Near the dock she supposedly left from, there’s a business that arranges fake departures. Mostly used by people being hounded for illegal debt collection.”
“…Illegal debt collection?”
“Yes. Loan sharks, basically—chasing people down for money.”
“…And?”
“About three years ago, she seems to have processed an entry back into Korea. Since then, she’s been registered in Gangwon Province.”
It wasn’t the first time Taeseong had tried to learn about her past. Years earlier, at an event with his grandfather, he had run into Moon Chakyung, who’d become a celebrity—and that was when he began searching.
“I can’t even reach her. She changed her number… I didn’t even know she went abroad until just now, because of you.”
“…What?”
Her disappearance had always seemed strange.
Going to live with relatives abroad didn’t mean she had to cut ties with all her friends.
So he had searched in Japan. And failed, every time.
Now it was obvious why: he’d been searching the wrong country.
“There were no phone or card records after her supposed re-entry either. And… I found the decisive clue that made me conclude her departure was fake.”
“What is it?”
“It’s about her grandmother.”
Opening another file, Park showed him the screen.
“Back in your senior year, her grandmother was diagnosed with a heart tumor. Honestly, does it make sense that someone so sick would suddenly send their granddaughter off to live with foreign relatives? Not to mention, Haeyoung had already been accepted to college. Giving that up and leaving—it doesn’t add up.”
“…I could never find any such hospital records before.”
“Yes. Someone deliberately blocked them. But I searched nationwide. Not the hospital she usually went to, but there was an emergency record from Jeonju. That’s how I found it.”
“Jeonju?”
“Yes. And look—it’s exactly the year you got married. 2015. Whoever covered up the records must not have known about that ER visit.”
A memory suddenly surfaced in Taeseong’s mind.
“After the wedding, her grandmother will travel the country. Haeyoung will come live with us. It’ll probably be her last trip in this life.”
That had been said when they’d pushed for marriage—when they mentioned Haeyoung moving into his Seoul home.
Back then, he’d dismissed the “last trip” remark as the kind of thing old folks said.
But what if it had been true?
What if the reason his grandfather had rushed the marriage wasn’t to tie down his career, but because her grandmother was gravely ill—and they wanted Haeyoung to be family as soon as possible?
As a child, he hadn’t seen the bigger picture. But now, at thirty, the patterns were clear.
So had Haeyoung divorced him not because of some shallow promise made early in their marriage—but because of circumstances he’d been blind to?
“When you get to college, you’ll meet people, start dating… So before then, let’s end this—”
“I…”
“You need to go back to your place in life.”
Had she lied about wanting freedom—because she thought he liked someone else?
