Chapter : 8 Love and Hate — Or Perhaps Love
When Haeyoung stopped in front of the door, she grasped the doorknob and let out a very small breath.
Just as she was about to slip inside the room as if fleeing, a hand suddenly reached out from behind and blocked the door.
Haeyoung froze. She couldn’t bring herself to turn her head.
The warmth behind her back felt as though it were quietly simmering, trapping her in place.
Taejun stood there silently with one hand braced against the doorframe. He didn’t even breathe loudly, but the gesture itself was unmistakably a restraint.
With only a door between them, in a space so close their breaths could almost touch, Haeyoung slowly turned her body around.
She had to suppress even the smallest sound of breathing. Any slight movement might disturb the fragile tension between them, so she pressed her lips together and simply stood there, like someone waiting for something.
An emotion she had been unable to set down rose all the way to the tip of her throat.
After a moment, a light, unhurried movement brushed against her cheek.
Startled by the touch, Haeyoung widened her eyes and looked up at Taejun.
The brief contact was neither cold nor warm, yet it felt as if every one of her senses had suddenly gathered at the point where his hand touched her skin.
“Feels like you have a fever.”
His tone was indifferent, but unable to read the emotion behind it, Haeyoung reflexively covered her cheek with her hand.
Her fingertips hurriedly covered her flushed face, but the heat that had already ignited deep within her cheeks had already spread through her entire body.
“I… drank a little today.”
The memory of the basement quietly resurfaced.
Under the flickering light, she could clearly recall the feeling of their lips touching.
It was too cautious to truly call it a kiss, yet it had unmistakably felt as though they had swallowed each other in that moment.
She had thought the memory had completely faded from her mind.
But it hadn’t. In fact, the memory had only grown clearer and more vivid.
The sensation she had tried to hide spread again within her like dye dispersing across the surface of water.
Haeyoung’s breathing grew faint.
The uneasy trembling she had assumed was just tension suddenly revealed itself to be something unfamiliar—an emotion she couldn’t properly name—and the realization made her waver.
She was anxious.
Yet she didn’t want to run away.
She wanted to blur this ambiguous yet obvious boundary with her own hands.
Taejun was still close, and his gaze held something even hotter than the heat burning on her cheeks.
“Don’t lean on Ki Jaejun.”
His voice scattered quietly, but the texture of the words was rough, like sandpaper.
Old emotions seemed to grind against each other within them.
“If you’re planning to leave anyway, then not getting attached would help both of us.”
Haeyoung slowly swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth.
In the silence, the sound seemed unnaturally loud.
Her lips parted slightly.
The voice that slipped out with her breath was low, quiet, and strangely smooth.
“Does that mean… you’ll help me leave this house?”
Her gaze was slowly changing.
The gentle ripples on the surface of the water sank, as though falling into a depthless abyss, and her head felt heavy.
It wasn’t a provocation.
Nor was it a plea.
It was simply a question.
“Wasn’t that what you asked for—to annoy me?”
That wasn’t it.
She hadn’t intended to deliberately gnaw at his sanity.
It was just that the only person she could desperately cling to—the only one who might actually be able to help her—was Ki Taejun. Yet he seemed to be misunderstanding her intentions.
If her goal had simply been to escape this house, she wouldn’t have politely asked him. She would have packed her things and run away in the middle of the night.
Strictly speaking, it was because he was the only one.
The only person in this house who could truly let her go.
Ki Taejun.
If she took one step, would the distance widen?
If she spoke, would the connection break?
If she breathed, would everything collapse?
Her swirling emotions quietly faltered.
Her vision blurred and her body grew heavy. Then Haeyoung leaned forward and buried her forehead against Taejun’s chest, falling completely into his arms.
Wrapping her arms around his waist, she whispered softly.
“I’m not good at calculating things or thinking things through. I’m not bold enough to throw out words like that just to get on your nerves…”
Did he know that the same man who could be as cold as the cutting wind of midwinter was also the only warmth in her life?
At first, she hadn’t known what to call this feeling.
Calling it admiration for him felt insufficient. Calling it gratitude toward the person who had saved her didn’t quite fit either, because the emotions aimed at each other between them were far from pure.
At some point, she had begun wondering whenever Ki Taejun—whom she saw every day—wasn’t in front of her.
And if he didn’t pick a fight with her even once in a day, she would strangely feel angry.
At first she had defined that trivial emotion as hatred.
But eventually she admitted the truth.
It was neither admiration nor hatred.
It was a tangled mixture of love and hate.
Because he was someone she couldn’t reach, she wanted to possess him.
Even knowing that the eyes looking at her held not even a speck of affection, she still wanted to reach him.
Even knowing their hearts would never truly intertwine.
Yet among all these desolate people, he was the only one she didn’t need to pretend around.
She had become buried in that simple feeling.
Haeyoung thought to herself that if this warmth—like a dream—had been granted to her even for a brief moment, then it would be alright to break, just for this short while. The wicked voice within her whispered so.
Strangely enough, Taejun’s arms were excessively warm.
The thought that she wanted him to hold her until her body broke completely filled her mind.
“It’s pitiful, you know. Living in a world without even one person you can trust or lean on. That’s why I wanted to believe… and lean on someone. And the best adult I could think of was you, oppa—”
Before she could finish her sentence, her face was suddenly lifted upward.
At the same moment, Taejun’s lips met hers.
Haeyoung’s eyes widened, then slowly closed.
It felt as though all her longing and loneliness were being swept away. With that single touch, every emotion mixed together.
His lips touched hers with a soft sound and pulled away—but before she could even process the surprise, they pressed down again, heavier this time, and her eyelids fell shut.
Only after kissing Taejun did she finally understand the twisted emotion that had been stirring within her all along.
The name of that emotion was neither loneliness nor fear.
It was a resigned acceptance directed toward each other.
Taejun’s gaze was deep like the dark of night.
But that darkness wasn’t frightening.
Rather, it seemed to hide a quiet sincerity, like a wound he had never shown anyone before.
The emptiness filling her chest was suddenly filled in an instant, and the loneliness clawing at her insides vanished.
Haeyoung wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him.
Taejun reached out and firmly grabbed her hips, lifting her up.
Her body suddenly rose into the air. Slowly opening her eyes, Haeyoung looked down at him with trembling pupils.
Bang.
The door behind them shut as Taejun’s solid back pushed against it.
For a moment it felt like the signal of something beginning.
His lips met hers again, and her heart pounded so wildly it almost overwhelmed her.
Her lips parted, and as the tip of his tongue slowly pushed inside, Haeyoung’s shoulders tensed.
Every time the raw desire pouring from him pressed closer, she felt both frightened and strangely happy.
Even if this moment would vanish like vapor, she wanted to be buried in its warmth.
A contradictory desire surged within her—to taste this dreamlike moment, completely detached from reality, just once.
Walking toward the bed, Taejun removed Haeyoung’s jacket and then his own coat. He laid her down on the soft bedding and covered her body with his.
His firm, muscular chest pressed against the soft curve of her breasts.
Unsure where to place her hands, she had been clutching the collar of his clothes tightly. Taejun caught her hands and lifted them above her head, interlocking their fingers together.
When he tilted his head, their noses brushed together, allowing their lips to meet more easily.
Each time her breathing grew uneven, he skillfully gave her space so she could breathe. Feeling that small consideration, Haeyoung tightened her grip on the hand he held and used her free hand to press his back closer to her.
