Chapter 21
The Ones Who Meet on the Subway Every Day
The very first subway of the dawn.
Hana, wearing a mustard-colored hoodie, was sitting primly in her usual spot next to the subway door. But unlike usual, her expression looked quite uncomfortable.
The reason was the chubby middle-aged man in a loose suit, dozing off right beside her.
He had boarded a few stations ago. There had been two empty seats to Hana’s left, but the man had chosen the one right next to her.
From the moment he sat down, he had been in the same head-bobbing state, clearly exhausted.
It wasn’t that Hana found him particularly dirty or unpleasant. The real reason for her discomfort was that someone was sitting in “Siwan’s seat.”
A familiar tune played over the subway speakers, followed by the station announcement.
[Next stop is… yadda yadda.]
When she heard the station name, Hana smoothed her clothes and adjusted her hair for no reason in particular.
The train gradually slowed to a halt, the doors opening with a hiss.
Thump-thump.
Why was Hana’s heart pounding? Because this was the station where Siwan got on.
Today marked the start of their third week riding to work together, sitting side by side in the same subway car. Unfortunately, thanks to the head-banging middle-aged man, today that streak would be broken.
A moment later, Siwan stepped into the subway—sharp in a clean gray suit. Without glancing around, he looked straight at Hana.
After all, she’d been sitting in the same spot for three weeks; it was only natural.
He gave her a faint smile and dipped his head in greeting.
As Siwan walked toward her, was it her imagination, or did he have… a halo? Since a few days ago, Hana had begun seeing one behind him, like in a painting of Jesus—bright light radiating from his head.
It hadn’t been like that from the start.
One day she had suddenly thought, it’s kind of like that, and the image had only grown more vivid with each passing day.
Siwan paused when he saw Hana’s neighbor.
That’s my seat…
Of course, there was no such thing as “my seat” or “your seat” on the subway. It was just a feeling.
Still, Siwan liked sitting next to Hana every day, breathing in the faint scent of food clinging to her clothes and hair.
Even better was the aroma seeping from her lunch bag.
He couldn’t eat it, but the scent alone made him happy.
Knowing he wouldn’t get that happiness today made his heart sink.
Disappointment and frustration… had he ever felt those so blatantly before?
There was an empty seat across from her, but Siwan chose to stand right in front of Hana. Even from here, if he focused, he could still catch the scent.
Smiling at her again, he grabbed the overhead strap. Then he straightened his posture, closed his eyes slightly, and focused all his senses on his nose.
Your scent… I’ll capture all of it.
Within seconds, he found the food smell on her.
A rich nuttiness.
She used good sesame oil.
A savory saltiness.
Seasoned with soy sauce? Hm… maybe the main ingredient was already salty.
A light oily smell.
Not meat fat… fish? Not dried pollack… could it be…
He leaned in slightly, inhaling deeply.
Heavenly!
From the tips of her hair came the savory scent of stir-fried food.
Just as he was savoring the moment, he opened his eyes—
—and locked gazes with Hana.
Her round, clear eyes looked up at him.
A wave of self-loathing hit him.
Oh no… am I a creep?
A weirdo obsessed with smells.
Feigning calm, Siwan asked gently,
“Chief, why are you looking at me like that?”
“Eh? Oh, I was wondering if you were sick. I was thinking I should offer you my seat.”
Hana still thought Siwan was some sort of severe patient.
His flushed face.
Tightly closed eyes.
Twitching lips.
He looked like someone in pain, no matter how you saw it.
She hadn’t meant to stare at his face, but since she was sitting and he was standing right in front of her, looking down meant her gaze naturally fell toward… his groin.
It wasn’t intentional, but it was still awkward.
She thought about looking at her phone, but that was in the pocket on the side of the middle-aged man next to her. Reaching for it would mean brushing against his thigh—a very awkward move.
So she had looked up instead, only to see that Siwan looked… unwell.
He’s not about to collapse, is he? No, that won’t do.
Just as Hana started to rise to offer her seat—
Siwan gently pressed her shoulder down.
“Chief, I’m perfectly fine. I was just closing my eyes to think for a moment. That must have been misleading.”
It wasn’t the closed eyes so much as the flushed face and twitching muscles, but she didn’t bother correcting him.
Trying to act fine… it’s kind of pitiful.
She was reminded of her father, Joo Pyeong-hwa, once carrying her mother, Jang Shin-young. His legs had been trembling, yet he’d said, “You’re light as a feather. A huge feather,” forcing a smile as he dragged his feet forward—more dragging than carrying, really.
That was a man’s pride.
Since Siwan said he was fine, pressing him to sit might hurt that pride.
Seeing Hana hesitate, Siwan smiled again, reassuring her.
“I’m really fine. I’m a very healthy man.”
“Oh, I… see.”
A very healthy man who took fistfuls of medicine every day? If it were her father, she would have smacked his back and forced him into the seat.
They say curiosity kills the cat, and pride kills the man… sigh, this is worrying.
Just then, the subway jolted violently.
The middle-aged man’s head suddenly tilted toward her shoulder.
But before it could land—
Siwan twisted his body slightly and, in a flash, caught the man’s head with his hand.
Manager Wang, age fifty.
Though he had the title of “manager,” his company had only four employees besides the president, so his workload was crushing.
Last night, he’d worked overtime and gotten home past midnight. Yet he had an urgent matter to send out in the morning, so after barely three or four hours of sleep, he was back out the door.
On the first subway train, he discovered for the first time that one could sleep so soundly even while sitting upright.
Today, the moment his butt touched the seat, he had passed out like a dead man.
But when he stirred awake, there was a young man holding his head—staring at him with razor-sharp eyes.
If eyes could shoot lasers, they’d look like that.
If eyes could kill, they’d look like that.
The moment their gazes met, all drowsiness vanished.
He quickly assessed the situation.
Why was this man holding his head?
Rolling his eyes left—empty seat. Right—ah!
Realizing the problem, he bowed apologetically.
“Oh dear, sorry. Here, why don’t you sit next to your girlfriend?”
Sliding over, he freed the seat.
Siwan was a little taken aback.
“Ah…”
He hadn’t meant “move” so much as “please don’t let your head fall on her.”
Her meaning “someone else’s woman,” just as a figure of speech.
In any case, the man had given up the seat before Siwan could say anything.
Not that this was the main problem—
Girlfriend?
Siwan glanced at Hana.
Thankfully, she didn’t seem to have heard the “girlfriend” part; she just sat quietly.
Focusing on her reaction meant he also missed the chance to say, “No, she’s not.”
Well, since the seat was free, he sat down. And just like that, their streak of sitting side-by-side for three weeks remained unbroken.
Hana, meanwhile, was malfunctioning.
“Why don’t you let your boyfriend sit here?”
B-boyfriend?
Why didn’t he immediately deny it?
Siwan was the son of Do Myung-jin, CEO of DK Foods.
Handsome enough to pass for a model, with a lean, athletic build that hinted at action-star muscles beneath his suit.
Thinking of his upper body from the company gym made Hana’s cheeks warm.
Still, her as his girlfriend?
That was what they call “wildly presumptuous.” How could she dare entertain such a thought?
Siwan was someone from another world.
They hadn’t talked much before, but now it felt even harder to start a conversation.
