Chapter 15…………………………………………
Before she knew it, moonlight had spilled across the window.
Inside the study, a man and a woman sat facing each other on the sofa. In front of them were two crystal glasses and a bottle of whisky.
Dowoon looked somewhat uncomfortable, while Chohui wore a relaxed smile.
“Why the sudden drinking?” he asked.
“Because I felt like it.”
“Why all of a sudden, then? Did something happen with the person you were supposed to meet?”
“Well… who knows?”
Dowoon, already wary of her, frowned and leaned forward.
“Wait. Did something really happen?”
At the seriousness in his tone, Chohui waved her hand.
“No, no. It’s not like that. I just wanted to have a drink with you, Dowoon.”
“For no reason at all?”
“Because you have Scotch whisky at home.”
Unlike her bright smile, his eyes were full of suspicion.
Chohui’s plan was simple.
Back when she worked at the academy, she once talked with fellow teachers about how to lower a man’s guard.
“Nothing works like alcohol. One glass of Scotch whisky, and men will spill everything—even stories about their unfulfilled first love.”
So she had to make Dowoon drink. No matter what, it had to be whisky.
She quickly uncorked the bottle and poured generously into his glass.
As the liquid sloshed and filled the glass, Dowoon’s pupils wavered subtly. He clearly hadn’t expected her to be the one pushing alcohol on him.
Chohui cheered inwardly as everything went smoothly. Of course, she didn’t forget to pour her own glass just as full.
Dowoon ran a large hand over his face. He looked troubled.
Is he bad with alcohol?
“…I don’t drink with someone who’s never had alcohol before.”
“Then that’s perfect. I like drinking too.”
Chohui lied calmly.
“…You like it?”
“Of course. I love wine.”
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t entirely a lie—more of an exaggeration.
She was an adult, and occasionally she’d had a glass of French wine from teachers who brought it in. They’d even commented that she drank better than expected.
She’d tried makgeolli her brother drank as well. She’d felt a little buzzed, but never once gotten drunk.
So she was confident. Confident she wouldn’t get drunk from just a little alcohol.
Well… Scotch whisky is new, but alcohol is alcohol, right?
Dowoon muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I said it’s a relief you like drinking.”
“Exactly.”
Smiling leisurely, Chohui clinked her glass against his.
A quiet puff of air escaped his lips—surprise, perhaps.
“I told you, I can drink,” she said, raising the whisky-filled glass to her lips.
Dowoon watched her closely. Chohui gestured with her eyes, urging him on.
Reluctantly, he tilted his glass and drank, his gaze never leaving her.
They drank at the same time.
Chohui intended to take just one sip, but barely managed half a mouthful before snapping her lips shut.
Ugh! What is this?!
The liquid burned down her throat like fire.
Expecting the sweetness of wine or makgeolli, she swallowed desperately against the harsh, searing alcohol.
Is whisky really supposed to taste like this?
She quickly checked Dowoon’s reaction. Unlike her, he looked perfectly calm—clearly used to it. His eyes were still fixed on her.
Pretending she was fine, Chohui fanned herself. Her face felt like it was on fire. Her body began to heat up as well.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“With what?”
“It seems like it’s your first time drinking whisky. How about we stop here?”
No. If she stopped now, everything she’d planned would be ruined.
“No. I want to drink today.”
With that, she filled his glass again.
His brows rose in displeasure, but she ignored it.
“You’re not saying you can’t handle even this much, are you?”
She deliberately provoked him.
Dowoon let out a hollow laugh and tossed back another sip.
“Oh come on, Dowoon. One sip? That’s it?”
“…Are you sure you’re actually good with alcohol?”
“Of course. Look.”
Boldly, she raised her glass.
It’s just half a glass—what could go wrong?
Chohui squeezed her eyes shut and drained the rest.
At the same moment, a groan escaped Dowoon’s lips.
***
Watching Chohui pour whisky liberally into her glass, Dowoon barely suppressed a dry laugh.
This is insane.
Whisky was over forty percent alcohol. While some drank it straight, most preferred it diluted with ice.
Pouring it like this was something only someone who had never drunk whisky before would do.
At her innocent expression, Dowoon dragged a hand down his face.
“…I don’t drink with someone who’s never had alcohol.”
It had been his roundabout way of saying let’s not drink at all.
“Then that’s perfect. I like drinking too.”
Her oblivious response left him speechless.
“…You like alcohol?”
“Of course. I love wine.”
Before he could stop her, the glass was full again.
Sighing, he muttered,
“Just as I thought—you’ve never had whisky.”
“What did you say?”
“I said it’s a relief you like drinking.”
“Right.”
She even clinked glasses with him, as if she’d learned it somewhere.
Should he find this cute, or just ridiculous?
Confused, Dowoon let out a small laugh.
“I told you, I can drink.”
She said it shamelessly, completely unaware of his thoughts.
Urged on, he took a sip. The familiar yet always harsh scent of alcohol pierced his nose.
Even for him, that amount wasn’t easy.
He quickly checked her condition. As expected, her brows furrowed instantly.
Sensing his gaze, she composed herself and pretended nothing was wrong.
She drinks better than I expected.
But only because his expectations had been low.
She fanned herself repeatedly, clearly overheated. Her cheeks flushed pink, and he had an uneasy feeling the image from earlier in the day might resurface.
“Are you alright?”
“With what?”
“It seems like it’s your first time drinking whisky. How about stopping here?”
Whatever scheme she had, he didn’t want to go this far.
He should have refused from the start.
He cursed himself for not rejecting her confident suggestion to drink.
“No. I want to drink today.”
She stubbornly ignored his refusal.
“You’re not saying you can’t handle even this much, are you?”
Ha.
Who was provoking whom?
He looked incredulous, but she only pushed the drink again.
“Oh come on, Dowoon. One sip? That’s it?”
“…Are you sure you’re good with alcohol?”
“Of course. Look.”
As she downed the rest in one go, a sigh escaped him.
What on earth was she thinking?
He wanted to snatch the glass from her hand immediately, but instead loosened the tie choking his neck, forcing down a sigh that threatened to burst out.
Then he stood.
“Stay here for a moment.”
***
The alcohol surged into her mouth, making her head spin.
Chohui slapped her cheeks repeatedly with both hands.
She couldn’t get drunk like this.
She’d worked too hard for this opportunity—she had to keep her wits about her.
And seeing Dowoon rush out of the study, it seemed he was weaker with alcohol than she was.
Soon, the study door opened again and Dowoon returned.
“I brought some ice.”
He held a bucket filled with ice and poured several cubes into her glass.
So this house even has ice…
She’d only seen ice once at the academy, yet he brought it so casually.
“Cool yourself with this.”
“Thank you.”
She rolled two ice cubes in her mouth. The burning sensation eased a little.
Dowoon added ice to his own glass and poured whisky over it.
The veins on the back of his hand stood out sharply as he slowly rotated the glass.
“Are you sure nothing happened?”
He spoke without looking at her.
“If something did happen, I could help.”
“No. I just wanted to talk with you. I’m curious about you.”
It had been an excuse—but once said, it felt genuine.
In the week they’d lived together, she realized she knew nothing about him.
And because he might pose a danger to her and her brother, she needed to know.
Who he was. Where he came from. What he wanted.
At her words, his hand stopped turning the glass.
Slowly, he lifted his head. Chohui leaned forward as if she’d been waiting, closing the distance between them until there was barely room for a face between them.
The air grew dangerously taut.
“We know so little about each other.”
“…Is there a reason we need to?”
“I’m curious about you, Dowoon. Aren’t you curious about me? I only know your name. Don’t you wonder about me?”
She tested him lightly—but he didn’t move.
Disappointed, she leaned back against the sofa. Dowoon mirrored her movement.
How do I make him talk?
Unexpectedly, he spoke first.
“I didn’t think you’d be curious about me. What do you want to know?”
“…How old are you?”
“I’ll be thirty soon.”
His easy answer emboldened her.
“I’ll be twenty-seven soon.”
“…I know.”
“Hm. So you knew.”
Should she ask something more provocative?
Perhaps emboldened by the alcohol, she decided to ask whatever came to mind.
“You’re almost thirty and still unmarried? Or were you married and I just don’t know? I heard among Japanese people it’s popular to keep a legal wife at home and a concubine elsewhere.”
Dowoon poured the whisky in his glass straight into his mouth.
He stared at her in silence.
The quiet between them stretched on.
