Chapter 10
The moment Sunwoo hung up with Yujin, Mingi’s voice cut in.
Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, Sunwoo flinched, but quickly regained his composure.
Mingi, watching him, wore an unusually heavy expression.
“Knock, Mingi.”
Sunwoo swallowed a curse and forced his voice to stay calm.
“I did.”
Sunwoo shot him a displeased look.
Mingi didn’t avoid his gaze.
Sunwoo raised an eyebrow as if asking what the problem was.
“It seems you’re taking a special interest in Ms. Lee Yujin.”
It sounded like Mingi had overheard the call. His words carried clear intent.
Sunwoo tilted his head slightly, looking at him.
“No, you’re wrong. It’s not Lee Yujin—it’s her case that’s special. She’s not just Lee Yujin. She’s Lee Yujin, owner of a 30-billion-won building.”
Sunwoo sprang from his chair and strode over to stand in front of Mingi.
A faint smell of cigarettes lingered on his breath.
“She’s about to receive 20 billion from Jung Jaehyun. And protecting all of a client’s assets is a lawyer’s duty. That all becomes my fee.”
He poked Mingi’s shoulder with his index finger as he spoke.
“That’s excessive.”
“When I earn 100 million, I pay 40 million in taxes. And you’re saying Lee Yujin isn’t special? A 30-billion-won building owner?”
Mingi kept his serious gaze fixed on him.
What a frustrating guy.
Giving up on persuading him, Sunwoo grabbed the suit jacket draped over his chair and put it on.
“Mingi, people can call me money-crazy all they want—I’ve got nothing to say to that. I’m taking everything Kim Chanyoung gave, everything Jung Jaehyun gave, everything Lee Yujin gives.”
“And if Lee Yujin catches on…?”
“If she does?”
Sunwoo deliberately lowered his voice, almost whispering.
His eyes gleamed sharply.
“Does she have a better option than me right now?”
“Attorney.”
“Mingi.”
Sunwoo looked at him firmly.
Mingi decided not to push any further.
He knew that if he did, Sunwoo would only dig in deeper.
When Sunwoo was like this, there was nothing more he could do.
“If you’ve got time for this, go home. Before your wife divorces you.”
“Are you worried about me right now?”
Mingi swallowed the words I can’t even go home because of you.
Whether he knew it or not, Sunwoo was busy getting ready to leave.
“Ah, even if you want a divorce, not this year. My schedule’s packed.”
Leaving behind a remark that blurred the line between joke and seriousness, Sunwoo exited the office.
Whatever Mingi felt, Sunwoo needed to get off work now.
That guy’s got nothing better to do.
What’s his problem, anyway?
Pressing the brake, Sunwoo stared at the red light ahead.
Cars stretched endlessly like linked sausages.
His officetel was less than a 15-minute drive from Seocho-dong.
If it weren’t rush hour.
Out of habit, he opened the console box to grab a cigarette.
Holding the pack in his hand, he hesitated, then shut the console.
He couldn’t go meet a client smelling like smoke.
It seems you’re taking a special interest in Ms. Lee Yujin.
That’s just how I am.
Isn’t that basic manners?
The most basic of basics.
That’s why you’re stuck being Kim Chanyoung’s lackey.
Even alone in the car, he felt Mingi’s stare.
His chest felt tight despite having eaten nothing.
Frustrated, he rolled down the driver’s window and stretched his hand outside.
The sudden cold made his fingers feel like they were shrinking.
Even as it felt like his skin was tearing, he didn’t pull his hand back.
Winter had carved poverty into his bones.
A poverty so deep he couldn’t even install city gas.
Boiling water on a gas burner just to wash.
That wretched poverty.
It would never invade his life again.
Gently turning the wheel, Sunwoo entered his officetel parking lot.
After parking in section B, he remained seated, as if he had no intention of getting out.
He stayed there for about five more minutes in the turned-off car.
Exactly five minutes later, he slowly pulled out his phone and texted Yujin.
<Arriving in 10 minutes.>
Exactly ten minutes later, Sunwoo buttoned his suit jacket and stepped out of the car.
The sharp sound of his heels echoed through the enclosed parking lot.
Parking in the usual B section, taking the same elevator up—it all felt strangely unfamiliar.
I’m treating Lee Yujin as special?
Of course.
This is the opportunity of a lifetime.
Standing in front of the door labeled 1301, Sunwoo pressed the doorbell.
The clear chime pulled him back to reality.
8:30 p.m.
A little over 30 minutes had passed since Sunwoo called.
“Excuse me.”
Sunwoo spoke in my place as I hesitated.
Seeing his face in person made it hard to invite him inside.
If we weren’t in the middle of a lawsuit, if he weren’t my lawyer, if I weren’t a public figure—I never would have let him into my home.
“Have you been eating properly?”
“Yeah.”
Not really—but I’ve been trying, at least.
“I must be getting old. I used to hate hearing my grandma nag me about eating.”
Sunwoo gave an awkward smile.
Taking off his jacket, he looked around for somewhere to put it.
“Give it to me. I’ll hang it.”
“A chair’s fine.”
He raised a hand to stop me.
He draped the jacket over a dining chair and sat beside it.
He looked a little thinner than the last time I saw him.
“Pretty simple for an actress’s place. Shouldn’t you move sharp things like that if you’re living with a kid?”
“Oh… right. I should.”
He pointed at the sharp-edged coffee table.
Unlike me, who was stiff with awkwardness, Sunwoo scanned the apartment with ease.
It reminded me of when I had gone to his house in Geumjedong.
Back then, he had no trace of this composure.
Hard to believe that boy had grown into someone this sly.
“I’m cooking rice. It’s almost done.”
After his call, I’d rushed to check the fridge, but there wasn’t even a single egg left.
I had to run to a nearby store, which delayed dinner.
“Should I have come later?”
“You should’ve told me earlier.”
“Want help?”
“No.”
It was the fastest way to finish dinner.
I dropped the drained brisket into boiling water and cut the radish into three pieces.
I wrapped two portions and put them in the fridge.
The pot signaled the rice was done with a whistle-like sound.
I’d always cooked rice in a pot since my time at Daewoongga.
“You can cook too?”
His random comment made me laugh.
“I’m a mom.”
After getting married, I learned to cook—and came to enjoy it.
Cooking for someone meant belonging to a family.
It was proof of love.
Which made it harder now, cooking alone.
Because it reminded me of Yeonha.
Because it felt like my dream had lost its way.
“I thought actresses lived on air.”
Watching me slice the radish with steady movements, he commented.
A few times after that, he murmured impressed sounds.
I felt his gaze but pretended not to notice.
I cracked five eggs into a deep bowl, added finely chopped carrots and green onions, and whisked quickly.
Pouring it into the oiled, heated pan, it sizzled loudly.
It was the first time this house had been filled with such lively sounds.
“Hearing cooking sounds at home is nice.”
It seemed he felt the same.
“Don’t you want to get married?”
At my question, the corner of his mouth twitched in disbelief.
Come to think of it, he was thirty-two.
Both of us grew up without families—we must have wanted one.
At least, I did.
“Ha, marriage?”
“What, you’re not thinking about it?”
“You—the one getting divorced—are telling me to get married?”
His expression was openly mocking.
Honestly.
“You’re seriously annoying.”
He burst into laughter.
It was the first time I’d seen him laugh so defenselessly.
His sharp eyes curved into soft arcs.
Looking closely, he had quite a pretty face.
“Can you turn off the heat?”
As the soup boiled, the lid rattled under pressure.
“The heat…”
As I was serving rice, I heard beeping behind me.
Beep, beep, beep—Sunwoo was pressing random buttons on the induction stove.
Everything except the power button.
The pot shook violently, missing its chance to settle.
“I’ll do it.”
I hurried over to him, his face pale.
Grab.
He suddenly seized my outstretched hand.
“Sunwoo. Are you okay?”
His hand was damp with sweat.
“Don’t….”
