TLR 10

Chapter 10 …

Seol stared at Donghee, completely at a loss for words.

There was only one reason her mother would wake up in the middle of the night and shove her hands into someone else’s jeans pockets: she was undoubtedly looking for cash.

“I asked you what this is! Why aren’t you answering me?!” “A customer at the café gave it to me.”

Donghee wasn’t slurring her words, but the heavy reek of alcohol hit Seol’s nose all the same.

There was no point in asking why she had gone digging through her clothes. Seol simply gave her mother the straightforward answer she was looking for.

“Park Junhyuk? So it’s a guy, then. Why would a male customer give you his business card?” “He left his phone behind and I saved it for him. He gave it to me to say thanks.”

Donghee’s eyes turned venomous as she tore the business card into tiny pieces. As if that wasn’t enough, she hunkered down on the floor, scraped together every last scrap of paper, and marched straight toward the window.

Seol watched her mother’s retreating back, her mouth hanging agape in utter disbelief.

The window creaked open. Donghee pulled back the screen and tossed the handful of shredded paper out into the night sky.

“I’m stuck in a dump like this all day long, completely isolated, unable to go out or meet a single soul!” “…” “And you’re out there galavanting around, meeting men?!” “…It’s really not like that.”

Seol barely managed to squeeze the words out. But deep down, a heavy wave of guilt washed over her, because the truth was she had just eaten a lavish dinner and listened to that very man confess his feelings.

Donghee collapsed onto the floor and burst into hysterical sobs.

“Then you should go outside, too, Mom,” Seol said, swallowing hard past her dry throat and keeping her voice as gentle as possible.

“Where on earth am I supposed to go?!” “You said your friends and aunts have been texting to ask how you’re doing.” “How am I supposed to face them when I’m this humiliated?!”

Why should you be humiliated, Mom? It’s not like what my older sister did was your fault.

She wanted to say those words out loud. She truly meant them.

“I’ve gained weight so none of my clothes fit, and I don’t even have a decent purse to carry!” “…” “And the house we bought by selling off all my designer bags turned out to be this pathetic little dump! Just… just this! If we had moved to the countryside instead, we could be living in a proper apartment! I could be meeting new people!” “…” “You’re the one who insisted on this house! Did you just have to cling to living in Seoul, huh? Is that it?!” “…When we were house hunting, my job offer hadn’t been revoked yet.” “Ugh! What on earth… what on earth is any of this?!”

Donghee thrashed her legs like a throwing a temper tantrum like a spoiled child.

“You… you…!”

Even as she wailed hysterically as if she were about to pass out from hyperventilating, Donghee’s relentless accusations never stopped.

‘I didn’t ask for any of this either. It’s absolutely horrific.’

A sentence Seol had heard somewhere in the past suddenly flashed through her mind. Was it because this exact moment felt so horrific?

No. The bad ones are Han Iju and Han Sinchul. Seol shook her head. Reminding herself over and over that Donghee was just another victim in all of this, she finally took a step forward.

“Mom.”

Seol dropped to her knees in front of Donghee.

“I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.”

Because there wasn’t much genuine emotion behind the words, it felt like she was just reciting lines from a theater script.

Still, she had no choice. If she didn’t soothe Donghee’s volatile mood right now, this nightmare would drag on until morning, and she couldn’t afford to go to work on zero sleep.

“You… you…!” “It’s all my fault. So please, stop being angry.”

Seol wrapped her arms around Donghee, who was trying to push her away, and gently patted her back. Donghee, who had been swatting at her in protest, slowly stopped resisting, her shoulders trembling with quiet hiccups.

Until Donghee’s rage finally drained away, Seol kept apologizing over and over again.

She had no idea how long she stayed in that position. Suddenly, she felt a sudden urge to send Junhyuk a text saying, ‘Thank you for the wonderful meal.’

It felt like if she could just start a brief exchange of texts with him, it might give her a tiny breath of fresh air.

Why on earth did he pop into her head when her situation hadn’t improved in the slightest—and had actually gotten worse? Unable to find an answer, Seol buried the thought deep inside.

For a while, Junhyuk had made a point of leaving the office right on time, but unavoidable circumstances always had a way of popping up.

On Friday, after dragging himself through a completely useless dinner meeting, the weekend was over before he knew it. By Monday afternoon, a fatal accident occurred at an MS Construction site.

Junhyuk spent all night handling the aftermath of the tragedy, greeting Tuesday morning without having closed his eyes for a single second.

Gazing out the office window at the rising morning sun, he ran a hand over his rough, stubbled chin.

Was his mind playing tricks on him from total exhaustion? A sudden spark of curiosity crossed his mind: What would Seol do if I just stopped showing up at the café for a few days?

Isn’t there that famous line from a novel about how if you come at four in the afternoon, I’ll start being happy from three o’clock?

He had been frequenting that café for over two months now. That was more than enough time for someone to get used to your presence, even if they hadn’t been fully tamed yet.

Plus, he had explicitly pointed out that his personal phone number was printed on that business card.

Junhyuk made up his mind right then and there: he wouldn’t step foot in that café again until Seol texted or called him first.

And just like that, Friday morning broke once again.

“Secretary Park.”

Inside the elevator on the way up to the office, Secretary Park stood with his hands folded, staring up at the floor indicator, before turning around at the sound of his name.

“Yes, Executive Director?”

Secretary Park bowed his head in extreme tension before looking back up.

Junhyuk’s personality wasn’t exactly known for being smooth or gentle to begin with, but over the past few days, he had been so razor-sharp that it was terrifying to even initiate a conversation with him.

“I bought 160,000 won worth of chat emojis.”

Junhyuk stood crookedly, stretching both arms out horizontally to grip the handrail.

“…Pardon?”

Unsure whether he should focus on the “chat emojis” or the “160,000 won,” Secretary Park asked back with a completely bewildered look on his face.

“I said I bought 160,000 won worth of emojis. Me.” “Ah… yes, sir. Is that so?”

The elevator doors chimed open.

Offering a utterly meaningless response, Secretary Park slid to the side. He held down the ‘Open’ button and waited for Junhyuk to step off.

“I think I bought pretty much every single emoji available on that app. They don’t cost much individually. It was my first time buying them.”

Showing zero intention of getting off, Junhyuk didn’t budge an inch from his posture.

“Yes, I’ve bought a few myself, and they never felt particularly expensive.”

Since he had no clue where this conversation was heading, agreeing was safer than arguing. Secretary Park gave a polite answer while holding down the door button.

Junhyuk tilted his head sideways. His sharp eyes narrowed as if asking what kind of absurd nonsense his secretary was spewing.

To a billionaire like me, it’s pocket change, but to a average guy like you, shouldn’t it feel ridiculously expensive? Was that what he was trying to say?

“To be completely honest with you, sir, I mostly use the free emojis. I’ve only bought them a couple of times… Ah, these days they even have a monthly subscription service. I don’t know if you’re aware…” “I blew 160,000 won, including the monthly subscription.”

Junhyuk cut him off abruptly.

“Is that so, sir?” Secretary Park replied, his voice shrinking slightly.

“I sat there looking through those emojis one by one, and I had a thought. They’re kind of like hieroglyphics, aren’t they? You know, like those ancient Egyptian wall paintings.” “Ah, yes. Now that you mention it, that’s very true, sir.” “Well, most of them have text attached underneath the pictures, so I guess they aren’t true hieroglyphics.” “Ah, come to think of it, that’s true as well.” “I bought enough emojis to cover an entire side of a pyramid.” “Yes…” “And I don’t have a single fucking person to send them to.” “…”

If you really don’t have anyone, feel free to send them to me… Just as Secretary Park was debating whether he should offer up that response, Junhyuk spoke up again.

“Sorry for swearing. It wasn’t directed at you, Secretary Park—it was just an emphatic adverb.” “No need to apologize at all, sir. I understood it entirely as an emphasis.” “You’ve got great comprehension skills… Let’s get to work.”

Junhyuk finally moved his feet and stepped out of the elevator.

What a delightful corporate life. Secretary Park vented his frustration silently into the air before falling into step behind him.

The moment he stepped into his private office, Junhyuk stripped off his suit jacket.

Every fiber of his being wanted to slam it onto the floor, but he settled for tossing it onto the sofa instead, slumping down heavily right beside it.

“So what this means is…” Junhyuk muttered softly, bringing a hand up to his mouth.

He acted like he was trying to organize his thoughts out loud because he couldn’t make sense of it, but in reality, he knew the situation all too well.

Han Seol has zero interest in me. I was nothing more than Customer #1 to her.

Summing it up so concisely made his stomach turn upside down. A surge of heat rushed through him so intensely he felt like his blood was about to burst out of every pore in his body.

He had confessed, and he had been rejected.

So it was only logical that she wouldn’t reach out to him. But no—Seol had definitely been conscious of his presence.

He had grown sick and tired of receiving the looks women gave him—eyes filled with envy and raw desire. While her gaze hadn’t been anywhere near that slimy, Seol had undeniably looked at him with fondness.

That was the exact reason he had confessed, even while knowing he’d get turned down: he wanted to force Seol to see him as a man.

Well, that, and the fact that if he didn’t speed things up a bit, he felt like he’d literally burn up from impatience.

Knock, knock.

A knock sounded at the door. Junhyuk stared blankly into space without answering.

“Excuse me, Executive Director.” “…” “I’m here to brief you on today’s schedule.”

Secretary Park read through the document on his tablet PC in a voice much softer and more cautious than usual.

“Secretary Park.” “Yes, Executive Director. Go ahead.”

Secretary Park snapped his head up immediately.

“You still have the background check file on Han Iju’s surviving family, right?” “Yes, sir, I do.” “Bring it to me.” “Yes, sir. Please give me just a moment.”

Less than three minutes later, the door opened once again.

“Here it is, sir.”

Junhyuk took the black folder and flipped it open. Glancing through the pages, he located the section labeled ‘Han Seol.’

The names of her elementary, middle, high school, and university were listed, followed by a few brief sentences underneath:

Good relationships with peers. Well-regarded by those around her. Recently broke up with her boyfriend.

Buying a woman with money went against his personal philosophy, so his plan had been to hide his true identity and engage in a light, casual relationship with her. And once it was over, that would be it. Exceptionally simple.

Actually, it was more than likely to end before it even took the shape of a proper relationship anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to engage in some tragic, Romeo-and-Juliet love story with the daughter of the family that killed his parents.

A one-time thing, and then done. Honestly, that was much closer to his actual goal.

And so, Han Seol was someone who would vanish like a bubble from his life before very long.