The Season of Prettiest You (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 15

Taeseok tucked the hand he’d been reaching forward behind his back and, forcing composure, said,

“Who told you to nap during work hours?”

“Oh.”

Yeoreum blinked her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Just go home for today.”

He’d wanted to tell her to go rest early since she looked exhausted, but words with an entirely different tone spilled out uncontrollably. He slightly regretted what he’d said the moment it left his mouth. Thanks to that, irritation showed clearly on his face.

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

Yeoreum, sensing his mood, apologized once more. Taeseok frowned.

“Go.”

The door slammed shut.

Yeoreum sat dazed, trying to gather her thoughts.

She’d been pushing herself relentlessly, barely sleeping two hours a day—but still, she shouldn’t have fallen asleep here. This was already the second time. Of all places in the world, this house was the most uncomfortable one, yet she’d slept as peacefully as if nothing mattered.

She’d lost her mind. Completely lost it.

‘I’ll sleep more at night. This can’t happen again.’

She felt pathetic. Shaking her head, she shut down her laptop and began packing up. What must Taeseok have thought of her? Probably that she’d reached the height of audacity. Or worse—shouldn’t he have lost whatever sleepiness he had in the first place?

‘Well… I guess I’m not exactly “normal” right now anyway.’

She’d been acting like someone devoid of emotions just to keep herself from falling apart in front of him. She’d tensed every facial muscle to completely block any trace of a smile. Maybe it would’ve been easier if she were a robot. Her cheeks were numb from clenching so hard.

“Let’s go. Go. I don’t know.”

After packing her bag, she stood up and pushed her chair under the desk. She double-checked to ensure she hadn’t left anything behind. But then—

‘Wait… what was Seo Taeseok trying to do to me just now?’

The moment she opened her eyes, he’d clearly been reaching his hand toward her. Could he have possibly meant to touch her? Why?

Come to think of it, she hadn’t even heard him knock. Had he sneaked in?

She tried hard to recall his expression as he pulled his hand back—but nothing came to mind. A strange feeling gnawed at her. She didn’t have the courage to ask him, yet unanswerable questions kept piling up.

‘Touch me? More likely he wanted to hit me.’

As she glanced at the mirror and reached for the door, the necklace around her neck caught her eye. Her eyes widened like saucers. Yeoreum hurriedly fastened every button on her blouse. Damn habits—of all days, why did she have to wear this necklace today?

‘Surely… he didn’t see it.’

It meant nothing. It was just an old piece she’d grown used to over time. Still, she resolved never to wear this necklace again.

Just in case he misunderstood.

She let out a long sigh and stepped out of the room. The man had vanished without a trace.

‘But seriously—whether he meant to hit me or touch me, isn’t sneaking in the wrong thing to do?’

He really was a strange man. His revenge came from such unpredictable directions. With no way to confront him, Yeoreum simply turned silently and walked away.

Several days passed like that.

A few unspoken rules formed between them. Yeoreum arrived ten minutes before 1 a.m., made coffee in her tumbler, printed the script from the previous day, and sat on the sofa.

When Taeseok came in with a red pen ready, they began their meeting. Usually around ten minutes—never exceeding half an hour.

It was strictly business—purely professional.

Aside from the rare occasions when Taeseok started pointless arguments, it was tolerable enough. Generally, he got irritated by her honesty—

Whenever she admitted she hadn’t eaten lunch or barely slept the night before, he’d scowl and grimace. Yeoreum decided then and there never to tell him the truth again.

Excluding that, he was actually a helpful mentor when it came to script matters. He flagged scenes that would be realistically hard to film or corrected words that were difficult to pronounce.

Today, as usual, Yeoreum arrived at 12:50 a.m., prepared her coffee, and sat on the sofa. Taeseok merely opened the door and retreated back into his study. Bored, she pulled out her phone and found a message from Ji Hyeok.

[Nuna, how’s the script going?] [Yeah. I’m doing fine. Working hard on it.]

After a brief hesitation, she sent a sweat-dripping-running emoji. In response came a laughing-crying emoji, which made her chuckle softly. Just then, Taeseok walked out.

[Nuna, have you seen this? It’s an article about our drama. People are already ridiculously excited. Kinda annoyed that they mention Taeseok hyung the most, but the content’s actually fun.]

A link followed. Yeoreum clicked on the article.

Skimming through, she realized it was mostly about money—ads, distribution rights, OTT platforms—concluding that for these reasons, it was already hailed as the most anticipated drama of next year’s first half.

Moreover, the fact that two members of ‘Lovely Rose’ were starring drew positive reactions. Since the group was known for both popularity and talent, public interest was growing over whether they might record an OST for the drama.

Ji Hyeok sent another burst of laughing emojis, making Yeoreum smile faintly again. She didn’t even notice Taeseok sitting down in front of her until he finally spoke.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Yeoreum quickly closed her phone—and shut her expression tight. Taeseok stared at her blank face for a moment before asking again.

“Who were you texting?”

“Ji Hyeok… ah, no one.”

His sudden intense stare nearly made her hiccup. Had she offended him again? Those moments always left her feeling suffocated.

Just seeing him every day was already stressful. Sometimes she felt fine, then suddenly waves of emotion crashed over her. She was afraid of this arrogant man who acted as if he had no idea what she was feeling or why she was even there.

“The script.”

Taeseok snatched the script from Yeoreum’s hand as if taking it by force.

‘Cheon Ji Hyeok, huh?’

White was paper, black was ink—but suddenly, Taeseok felt as if he’d gone blind and couldn’t see anything. When he’d come out of the study, Yeoreum’s face had clearly held a smile.

It twisted his mood. What’s more, Yeoreum had even tried to hide the fact that it was Cheon Ji Hyeok. Why bother hiding something so trivial? It felt like she wouldn’t give him even the tiniest opening—totally defensive.

He picked up his pen and drew random underlines.

She hadn’t smiled once since they’d reunited—he’d started to think she’d forgotten how. She used to laugh brightly at the slightest thing, like fallen leaves rolling by. That tiny smile she’d just shown? It was because of another man.

But… so what?

Taeseok was simply in a bad mood because he disliked the script.

“This is a mess.”

He drew thick lines underneath.

“A complete mess.”

He kept underlining and saying what needed to be said, regardless of whether Yeoreum’s expression hardened or not. The dialogue was sloppy, the plot childish, and the emotional arcs completely off. Therefore—

Thud.

“Rewrite it.”

Yeoreum stared silently at the script lying on the table.

She didn’t need to look up to know his arrogant gaze was pouring down on her. He’d never looked at her like this before. Taeseok had never once given her such a look.

That gaze, which once seemed like it’d protect her even if she committed murder, existed only in her memories now.

“You want me to rewrite… all of it?”

Just moments earlier, Yeoreum had secretly watched Taeseok as he looked down at the script, feeling a vague flutter in her chest.

“You want me to write it again?”

Her sorrow-filled eyes flowed like water over the words printed on the A4 paper.

She’d pressed a pen to her lips, furrowed her brow slightly, and tilted her head in confusion. Occasionally, the pen would move toward the paper to underline or write something. Page by page, she’d turned them with careful precision.

“Yeah. Rewrite it entirely. Are you deaf?”

His intelligent, sexy aura overflowed uncontrollably. Her eyes couldn’t tear away from his straight, firm fingers—she even thought about just closing her eyes forever. Now, that man was ruthlessly shredding her heart.

Yeoreum took a deep breath.

“Could you please tell me exactly which parts need rewriting and why?”

Taeseok looked at her expressionlessly.

“No.”

“…”

“Why should I have to?”

Well… because you agreed to review it and called me here.

But she couldn’t say it. She simply nodded and stood up. Taeseok also abruptly rose and stormed back into his study. The door slammed shut, echoing through the empty space.

“Are you crazy?”

Taeseok ran a hand down his face.

“Am I crazy? Seo Taeseok.”

If he really was insane, he might as well go mad gracefully.

Pacing irritably around his study, Taeseok muttered to himself. He seriously wondered if he’d developed anger issues—or if it was time to restart therapy he’d stopped long ago.

“The pendant.”

It was because of that. Because of the necklace from that day that made his emotions impossible to control.

Ever since then, Taeseok had clearly recognized that his feelings were spiraling out of control. He hadn’t even seen it properly, yet his heart had surrendered helplessly. He’d jumped to conclusions like someone sipping kimchi soup before the rice was served.

If his suspicion was correct, that pendant was a couple’s necklace—a rare gradient design blending gold and pink. If it truly was a couple’s piece, he couldn’t understand why Yeoreum still hadn’t thrown it away.

Not only hadn’t she thrown it away—why wear it as a necklace at all?

He wanted to check again, but Yeoreum never wore the necklace after that day.

He didn’t know if she did it intentionally or just happened to forget it. He desperately wanted to confirm—but couldn’t ask outright. It was maddening.

“Damn it.”

After pacing for a while, Taeseok suddenly stopped dead in the center of his study.

He couldn’t endure even one more day in this pathetic state. It felt sticky, grubby, unbearably filthy. He’d just ask her directly. Making up his mind, he marched out without hesitation and flung open the storage room door.

“Choi Yeoreum.”

Yeoreum, who’d been resting her chin in one hand while staring at her laptop, jumped up in surprise. Her eyes went wide. Her long eyelashes fluttered over those startled eyes a few times.

Her expression held confusion, fear, and sadness. The moment Taeseok saw her face, he realized how terribly he’d just treated her.

He’d ordered her to fix the script without even reading it properly. She’d painstakingly written every word with care, and he’d treated it so carelessly. He felt utterly worthless that day.

He brought up something more urgent than the necklace. He didn’t know if he could fix things—but he had to try.

“Give me the script. I’ll read it again.”

Taeseok held out his hand. Yeoreum let out a short “Ah” and picked up the script. His furious red pen marks covered the pages. Taeseok cursed himself again.

“Give it here.”

Yeoreum stepped forward and handed him the script. At that moment, a single sheet slipped out, and both of them reached for it. The paper fluttered like a butterfly to the floor—and in its place, their hands met instead.

Yeoreum’s hand was small and warm. Taeseok held his breath.

“Oh…!”

Startled, Yeoreum tried to pull away—but Taeseok didn’t let go.

“W-wait a moment.”

Her flustered, trembling eyes shimmered like stars. Absurdly, Taeseok found himself wanting to kiss those eyes.

I’m not crazy.

I still like her. Choi Yeoreum.

Taeseok closed his eyes deeply.