Chapter 20
Swaying.
Through We’s half-lidded eyes, the world looked hazy and blurred.
It felt strange—like being hung upside down on a line to dry in the sun. Her body was draped over someone’s shoulder, and the unfamiliar pressure around her stomach made her groan as she tried to process the upside-down view.
“The world’s upside down.”
Of course, it was her own body that was upside down, but she wasn’t sober enough to recognize that.
From the moment she realized she was drunk, there wasn’t much We could do. The instant a familiar face gave up trying to wake her and hoisted her over his shoulder, the alcohol had flooded to the top of her head.
“Ah, so this is what it feels like to be drunk.”
“……”
“Go slooow. You’re walking too fast.”
She chattered nonstop.
Her mouth never rested even while slumped over his shoulder, and Yoon-jae could only swallow a sigh. The babbling continued from the store, to the car, to the elevator.
Click.
Finally, after exercising what little patience he had left, Yoon-jae reached home and dropped We onto the sofa.
Thump.
He couldn’t carry her properly anymore, so he had to half-throw her down. But she didn’t notice; sprawled out, she kept mumbling nonsense.
“Wow, he even brought me home ‘cause I’m drunk. Woooow.”
“……”
“Everything’s expensive… That lamp’s British. Sofa’s German. Carpet’s…”
How she knew all that, he couldn’t guess. Letting out a deep breath that had been sitting in his chest, Yoon-jae turned away.
He had done his part. As long as she was home, there would be no more unpleasant scenes like earlier—
Like her giggling with another man.
[What the hell is this?]
The voice of that nameless man, the unwelcome intruder who had tried to take his “target,” only worsened Yoon-jae’s already foul mood.
[Husband.]
Yoon-jae sealed his identity with just one word.
That single word left a mark—not only on the man, but on her as well.
[Why are you so angry?]
When Ju-ho asked that as Yoon-jae sat back down with the drunken woman, he realized he was angry.
Why?
It wasn’t just discomfort at a contractual relationship.
When the man’s hand brushed Ae-jung’s shoulder, Yoon-jae had moved on instinct—not reason.
By the time he came to his senses, she was already in his arms.
He quickly found justification for it.
“To avoid gossip.”
If people recognized them because of a scene like that, it would only create trouble. That was all. Besides, the place had been inappropriate for such behavior anyway.
And above all—he was her husband, if only in name.
“……”
But as he replayed the incident, a question lingered.
Arms crossed, Yoon-jae stared at Ae-jung, who was still squirming drunkenly on the sofa.
“How did you even get in there?”
That place was a members-only club, and he had never given her a pass. So who had she gone with?
“I must’ve not worn my glasses… Everything’s blurry. My glasses, or—no, her glasses.”
…Maybe he’d better ask when she sobered up.
Yoon-jae loosened his tie and exhaled. He had fulfilled his “husbandly duty.” That was enough.
But it seemed his “wife” had no intention of letting him go.
“Water…”
After a short pause, her weak voice croaked out a request.
He exhaled in disbelief but couldn’t ignore the pitiful expression on her face. Maybe it was the weight of the “duty” still chained to him.
With the patience of a saint, he fetched a glass of water and sat beside the restless woman.
“Ugh…”
Her face scrunched, lips dry. Yoon-jae clicked his tongue.
“Do you even realize the kind of trouble you’re making?”
“Don’t wanna make trouble. It tastes bad anyway.”
Talking to a drunk person was pointless.
He propped her up and pressed the glass into her hand. It was a miracle she didn’t spill it.
Sigh.
He held the glass to her lips.
Gulp.
After a few swallows, her eyes lifted to meet his. Without the glasses sliding down her nose, her deep black pupils shone clearly—and brought back a memory.
That night under the stone wall.
That fleeting touch of lips.
And this time, it wasn’t only Yoon-jae who remembered.
Drip.
A droplet of water escaped her lips and rolled down her chin. There was something strangely sensual in that simple motion.
So much so that it stole all of his senses.
Beep.
An alarm went off in Yoon-jae’s head. He snapped back and quickly pulled away—but her small hand caught him.
“I can’t see.”
Suddenly, the weak, limp woman gripped his tie with surprising strength.
Her face was close, so close he could feel her uneven breaths. She blinked slowly, studying his face, then smiled faintly.
“See? Look.”
Her fingers trailed down his shirt.
Each touch, feather-light yet warm, brushed over his chest, making his muscles twitch.
“Every bit of you… is exactly my type.”
That soft, aimless touch carried a heat that pulled his heartbeat toward her hand.
Drunken nonsense.
She was too drunk to know what she was saying. He told himself it meant nothing.
But then—
“Ha Yoon-jae.”
Her breathy voice rolled his name like a spell.
And no matter how rude or reckless she was, he couldn’t resist her push.
We had no idea how much torment he was in; she was simply drunk on the sight of him.
Staring at his face—handsome by any measure—she murmured again, her fingers against his chest.
“There’s too much ugliness in the world. Way too much.”
“……”
“So don’t you dare become ugly too.”
It wasn’t a joke. It was an earnest plea.
Everything she’d ever experienced—everyone she’d ever lived with—proved it. True beauty was rare.
Yoon-jae couldn’t understand the sincerity behind it. She smiled, and his heart shook violently.
Her smile, her gaze—it made his throat dry.
“Your eyes aren’t black,” she whispered. “They’re a really deep brown.”
She puckered her lips and inched closer, fascinated.
“Interesting.”
She crept forward until she was leaning on both his shoulders.
Now they were so close that anything could happen.
Her gaze wandered over every feature of his face, then lingered on his lips.
“This…”
Her fingers brushed the edge of his mouth. The moment her fingertips grazed his lips, Yoon-jae caught her hand tightly.
Grab.
“Ah—ow.”
His grip was firm, almost painful, and she winced. But he didn’t let go.
Instead, he warned her—
“Stop fooling around.”
“……”
“Before it stops being funny.”
His brown eyes darkened to black as he said it—cold and sharp.
He wanted to scare her, at least a little.
But instead of fear, another memory surfaced in her cloudy mind.
[Let’s just keep quiet and live separately, like nothing happened.]
[If anything ever happens to that person, then you—]
[—might actually find life interesting for once.]
That had been Go Woo-ri’s final conversation with Ha Yoon-jae.
Their bond, thought to have ended in bitter words, had indeed twisted—just as he’d said.
Heh.
“Guess you were right. It did get interesting.”
With a low chuckle, she suddenly shoved Yoon-jae hard.
“—!”
Caught off guard, he stumbled backward—and before he could react, We straddled him, pinning him down.
She grabbed his collar, lowering herself until her hair brushed against his cheek.
Silky strands slid down his face as she whispered, her lips still moist.
“Be careful, Ha Yoon-jae.”
“……”
“Before I decide to eat you alive.”
Her lips curved playfully.
“Actually, since we’ve come this far… maybe just one bite.”
“What? You—!”
Without warning, she leaned down—
Chup.
Her damp lips landed boldly at the corner of his mouth, a faint sound left behind.
Then, tapping his chest as if claiming it, she murmured,
“Spared you this time.”
Her arrogant words lingered as her long breath spread across his chest.
Before he knew it, her breathing had evened out, soft and slow.
Tap, tap.
Her hand kept patting his chest, rhythmically, tenderly.
Yoon-jae, overwhelmed by the pounding of his own heart, could do nothing but call softly,
“Ju Ae-jung.”
“Mmm… no… I’m…”
Half-asleep, she mumbled back, rubbing her cheek against him.
“Go… Woo-ri…”
Pat, pat.
Her small hand, once soothing his chest like dry earth, stilled completely.
Only her faint breathing filled the room.
Go Woo-ri.
[I got strangled to death by some crazy guy, and when I opened my eyes, I was in this body. Seriously, can something like that even happen?]
For some reason, that old offhand conversation came back to him now.
