Chapter 11
That Excuse Should Be Enough, Right?
The clock had long passed nine in the evening.
Kang Yeoul stepped out of the university’s music building, her entire being radiating a quiet brightness. Her face was so radiant that it seemed to glow.
Ha Gunwoo leaned against his car, watching her with the dazed admiration of someone standing before a masterpiece. Then, regaining his senses, he pushed off the car and walked toward her.
“Oh—?”
Startled, Yeoul froze as Gunwoo suddenly appeared before her, as if he had dropped straight from the sky.
“I knew this would happen.”
“What do you mean…?”
He spoke with a hint of laughter, his tone not the least bit unpleasant. Still, Yeoul couldn’t understand what he meant, and she gave him a puzzled look.
Gunwoo lifted his hand. A phone was clasped in it.
“I told you to call me after practice.”
Ah—right. He had said that.
Now she remembered.
‘Call me after practice.’
He’d said it just before she got out of the car.
‘Practicing itself must be tiring enough, but carrying that heavy cello on top of it—it’ll wear you out.’
She’d already felt guilty enough knowing he was waiting for her so late. When he’d insisted on picking her up from the practice room, it had felt too much like she was taking advantage of him.
And besides, no matter how heavy or tiring it was, her cello was her own responsibility to carry.
So she hadn’t planned to call him at all—and had simply forgotten about it afterward.
“Give it to me.”
Gunwoo gestured toward the cello case slung on her back.
“It’s fine.”
“You must be tired from practicing all this time. You should relax, even for a bit.”
Before she could stop him, Gunwoo had already taken the cello case from her shoulders. His touch was gentle but firm, leaving her suddenly weightless.
He handled the instrument with the kind of carefulness one might reserve for a fragile treasure.
“I wasn’t tired at all. I’m happiest when I’m playing the cello.”
“I know.”
Gunwoo chuckled softly as he looked at her cheerful face.
Yeoul was usually shy and easily embarrassed, lowering her head whenever people’s attention turned to her. But the moment she talked about the cello, she became someone else entirely—radiant, warm, like sunlight itself.
Watching her like that, he couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful.
“Kang Yeoul has always been like that.”
Her eyes widened.
His tone carried the quiet familiarity of someone who knew her deeply—and that startled her.
Even her surprise now was different from before; there was life and warmth in it.
“There’s the car.”
“Yes.”
When Gunwoo pointed to the car waiting below the steps, Yeoul answered softly and followed.
He opened the passenger door for her, helped her inside, then set the cello case carefully in the backseat, even fastening its seatbelt before getting into the driver’s seat.
The car moved smoothly down the road.
“I was going to take you out for dinner,” Gunwoo said once they left the campus gates.
Yeoul turned to him, curious.
“But it’s been a long day—you must be exhausted. You should go home and rest.”
Gunwoo glanced at her briefly before focusing again on the road.
“That excuse should be enough, right? I figured you’d feel awkward about eating with me, so I decided to say it first before you could turn me down. A preemptive act of consideration.”
Ha… this is getting old.
Ha Myungwoo swirled a glass of expensive whiskey, watching the amber liquid lap against the ice. The faint burn slid down his throat as he stared blankly into space.
The club pulsed with gaudy lights and a dangerous kind of energy. Half-dressed women and drunken men swayed together under the haze of alcohol and perfume, pretending their clumsy movements were dancing.
To Myungwoo, it all looked painfully dull.
“Don’t they ever get tired of this…?”
It had been a month since he’d started spending his nights surrounded by women and liquor.
At first, it was fun. Now, it was unbearable.
Watching his friends grope at the same kinds of women, laughing as if it were their first night out, made him sick.
The pounding music that once made his heart race now just grated on his nerves.
The marble table before him was cluttered with bottles—fine whiskey, red wine, sparkling wine—each costing well over a million won, melting ice, half-empty glasses, and scattered bottles of water and soda.
All of it bored him now.
There’s got to be something fun left in this world…
He’d wasted money like water, partied with famous actresses, singers—even idols. He’d indulged in every pleasure money could buy.
There had even been days when he drank from dawn till dusk, stumbling through the day like a man drowning in liquor.
He’d once shown up drunk to an executive board meeting and rambled nonsense the entire time.
I’ve done it all. There’s nothing left that excites me.
It was true.
Now, even thinking about what to do next felt like a chore.
He took another lazy sip, barely wetting his lips.
“Oppa.”
A woman sitting beside him—pressing close, arm linked through his—suddenly lifted her delicate white fingers toward his mouth.
Her nails were perfectly manicured, painted a soft pink, and between them she held a small fork with a bite of brie cheese on it.
The smooth, buttery taste melted on his tongue, softening the bitterness of the whiskey.
“How is it?”
“Fine.”
He gave a dismissive reply and leaned back into the plush sofa, staring up at the mirrored ceiling that reflected his indifferent face.
“Oppa, did something happen today?”
The woman’s syrupy voice grated on his nerves. She was trying too hard—tilting her head, pouting, fishing for attention.
“What would you do if it did?”
“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m just worried about you.”
“Worried? You think that means anything coming from you?”
His tone dripped with contempt as he glanced at her, eyes sharp and cold, like he was looking at a bug.
But even that glance didn’t last long. He turned away again, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
This is so damn boring.
Even sitting here felt like a form of torture.
He’d had enough of this place.
“Hyung, did you hear?”
Ha Jongwoo leaned closer from the next sofa over, his tone conspiratorial.
“Hear what?”
Myungwoo didn’t bother looking at him, answering lazily.
Used to such indifference, Jongwoo continued, lowering his voice.
“Gunwoo took a day off today.”
“I heard. Apparently he ran out of the office, then called to say he was using his vacation time. Crazy bastard.”
Myungwoo let out a dry laugh.
“So I looked into it,” Jongwoo said, inching closer, his voice dropping even lower. “I think he’s seeing someone.”
Myungwoo frowned, shooting him a skeptical look.
“Speak clearly.”
“The call he got—it was from a woman.”
“A woman? You sure?”
“Yeah. Positive. My secretary checked the desk records herself.”
“I see.”
For a brief moment, a spark flickered in Myungwoo’s dark eyes before disappearing.
Ha Gunwoo… so that bastard has a woman now.
As expected, the universe was on his side.
He’d been dying of boredom—and now, right on cue, it had handed him a new source of amusement.
Straightening up, Myungwoo turned to Jongwoo with a glint of interest.
“Tell me everything.”
“Her name’s Kang Yeoul. She’s his junior at the university.”
“Junior? So… Korea University, Business Department?”
“Probably. He went to all-boys schools before that, so the only option left is college.”
“And then?”
“Here’s the fun part. When the desk called him, he didn’t even ask why—he just said he’d be right down. And less than five minutes later, he came running, hair flying.”
As Jongwoo finished, the corner of Myungwoo’s mouth curved upward.
His dark eyes gleamed beneath his half-lowered lids.
