When I Reach You (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 3

A man clad in a luxury black suit worth hundreds of millions sat elegantly with one leg crossed over the other.

The commonplace sight of him holding a coffee cup looked just like a fashion editorial, and the gazes of passing women kept turning toward him without pause.

Seon Woo noticed none of those looks—partly because he was numb to such attention, having grown accustomed to it, and partly because he was deeply immersed in his own thoughts, staring endlessly out the window.

One week ago.

She’d claimed she wanted to repay his kindness, yet the number she handed him turned out to be invalid.

“I really—just can’t believe it.”

Repay his kindness?

Then write down a fake number and run off?

The more he dwelled on it, the more absurd and infuriating it became, until he roughly set the cup back down on the saucer—so hard it nearly reached his lips.

He’d thought things might finally move forward, only to find himself right back where he started.

He didn’t know her name, nor her number.

How was he supposed to find a woman who was clearly on the run?

When he’d asked her to save his contact, she wrote “Thank you” in the name field—and left the number field blank.

Fine. It was his own fault for not double-checking.

As Seon Woo pressed a hand to his forehead, lost in recollection of that day, his blind date finally arrived before him.

He’d opted for what he considered a slightly more efficient approach than endlessly chasing after that elusive woman.

Seon Woo straightened up and greeted her warmly, forcing the corners of his mouth upward into as cheerful an expression as he could muster.

Please, let this be the last one.

“I’m Yoon Seon Woo.”

Please, let the woman of fate finally appear.

“I’m Han Ye Ri.”

Ye Ri, seeming bashful, accepted Seon Woo’s outstretched hand in a handshake—but for a fleeting moment, his brow twitched faintly. Ye Ri didn’t notice.

Just as he’d suspected—and just as he’d feared.

Today marked the twenty-fifth time he’d waited, hoping the one woman he could actually touch—without consequence—would appear, fated to be *her*.

This blind date, too, was destined to end in failure.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back—just need the restroom for a moment.”

As Seon Woo turned away with a smile, the warmth vanished from his lips, leaving them cold and stiff. A heavy sigh slipped silently through his teeth into the still air.

[This is the timeline separator]

Seon Woo’s expression remained grim as he stood before the elevator, having just spectacularly sabotaged yet another blind date.

Even after the elevator doors opened, Seon Woo—still lost in thought, absently stroking his jaw—failed to register their opening and didn’t step inside.

In the meantime, the doors closed again, having carried no one.

How exactly was he supposed to find her well enough that people would *say* he’d found her?

Tapping his polished shoe heels rhythmically against the marble floor—as if trying to jar a thought loose—he repeated the motion insistently: tap, tap, tap.

Just as hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him, his foot stilled mid-motion.

“Why didn’t I think of that sooner?”

Suddenly, the loan sharks who’d caused a scene in the restroom sprang to mind.

Seon Woo pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and quickly dialed a number.

“This is Yoon Seon Woo. About those men who caused a commotion in the restroom a week ago—did they leave any contact information?”

[Yes, Professor. I believe so—I’ll look it up and get back to you immediately.]

Seon Woo hung up abruptly and rapidly pressed the down button two or three times.

It looked like he’d have to go straight to the hospital after all.

Just as he was about to step out of the elevator, a woman entered his field of vision at the door—instinctively, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets, careful to avoid any accidental contact.

He sidestepped her slightly as they briefly passed—when suddenly, she turned and greeted him.

“Yoon Seon Woo!”

She nearly grabbed his sleeve out of habit, but barely managed to curl her hand back before it reached empty air.

Seon Woo turned, eyeing her with evident puzzlement.

“Joo Hye Ji?”

“Oh—your afternoon clinic was today, right?”

“Yeah.”

Only then did Seon Woo take a proper look at Hye Ji standing before him.

She wore a flowing mint-colored chiffon dress, her long wavy hair cascading down her back—and her vivid, carefully made-up face looked oddly unfamiliar.

He almost hadn’t recognized her. No—he *hadn’t* recognized her.

Turning back toward the parking lot, Seon Woo offered Hye Ji a curt farewell.

“I’m off. See you at the hospital.”

But as Seon Woo turned away, Hye Ji quickly called after him.

“Yoon Seon Woo—busy?”

“Why?”

“Want to grab a cup of coffee?”

[This is the timeline separator]

They sat facing each other in a bustling café.

Hye Ji cradled her cup of blue-hued herbal tea in both hands and took a careful sip. A fragrant herbal aroma filled her mouth.

After watching Seon Woo—sitting across from her, blankly gazing out the window—for a long moment, she finally spoke.

“Isn’t this herbal tea’s name lovely?”

“Midnight Blue?”

“Yeah. It just… smells so good.”

“It’s the only herbal blend the owner personally crafts here. They’ve been away for a while, so it’s been out of stock. Once you’ve tried this, other cafés’ herbal teas just don’t compare.”

Seon Woo’s lips twitched upward slightly as he sipped his tea, inhaling its fragrance thoughtfully.

“Another blind date, then?”

“Yeah. Spectacularly ruined it, too.”

If he ruined it, why did she feel like laughing?

Hye Ji nearly let her smile slip—barely catching herself by quickly taking another scalding sip to mask her expression.

“What on earth are you even *looking* for?”

“A woman I can actually touch.”

“Pfft.”

Caught completely off guard by his reply, Hye Ji barely managed to cover her mouth with her palm in time to keep her tea from spraying out.

“Oh—sorry.”

If it *had* sprayed, she’d have chased him out by now and *then* some.

“Wait… are your tastes just… unusually specific? Like, too intense for the average person to handle?”

“You’ve known me for ten years.”

“Ten years means I should know *that*, too? Besides, it’s been thirteen.”

For some reason, Seon Woo’s eyes lingered on Hye Ji’s faintly flushed face—then shoved a hand into his pocket and pulled out a hand sanitizer, squeezing a generous amount into his palm.

“You know—my chronic condition.”

Then, rubbing his hands together, he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh. *That*.”

“Yeah. *That*.”

She’d momentarily forgotten: he intensely disliked any physical contact with others’ hands.

He usually wore gloves or kept his hands tucked in his pockets, just to avoid accidental touches.

To those unaware of his circumstances, he came across as arrogant—handsome, wealthy, and even skilled as a doctor, yet aloof and haughty.

Hye Ji lowered her gaze to her own hands, still wrapped around her teacup. Suddenly self-conscious, she squeezed them tightly into fists.

The hands he couldn’t bear to touch included hers—or at least, that’s how it felt. Her eyes drifted again to his long, slender fingers.

He was searching for a woman he *could* touch—what if *she* could be that woman?

“So… how do you plan to get married, exactly?”

“I’m at least going to try.”

“Is that something effort alone can fix?”

“What’s there to lose?”

Hye Ji, frustrated by his silent sip of tea, swept her bangs aside and asked bluntly,

“Seriously—why are you so desperate to get married?”

“The hospital.”

Seeing Hye Ji’s enthusiasm—just moments ago brimming with fervor—instantly deflate made Seon Woo’s mouth turn inexplicably bitter.

“Oh… so the Chairman pulled out the ultimate move, huh?”

Right. Even *you* think my situation is pitiful?

Unable to reply, Seon Woo masked his grimace with a sip of herbal tea.

“Couldn’t you just add a clause about physical contact in the agreement?”

“Today’s failure makes twenty-five blind dates. Think I haven’t tried that already?”

“They refused?”

“You’ve never seen me insult someone with my eyes—have you?”

Unable to suppress her laughter at his remark, Hye Ji giggled for a good while—then wiped away a stray tear with her index finger and continued.

“Well… but the Chairman *knows*, right? That you can’t do skinship barehanded.”

“I’m performing well as a doctor—Grandfather wouldn’t accept that as an excuse.”

“It’s not like you’ll wear gloves for married life…”

Hye Ji’s remark drew a bitter smile from Seon Woo, who leaned back lazily against his chair.

“You know how sharp our grandfather is. To him, we need to look like a *real* couple—doesn’t have to be affectionate, but I *want* to at least try.”

If he *had* to marry, he wanted it to resemble what others had—even if imperfectly. At the very least, he hoped for a woman he could hold hands with.

Was *that* too much to ask?

If *she* were the one, maybe all of this would finally be possible.

Perhaps it was the woman who’d refused to leave his thoughts all day—but Seon Woo’s brow furrowed tightly.

Hye Ji, who’d been silently listening, suddenly widened her eyes.

“You mean… you want to be a *real* married couple?”

“It *is* a rushed marriage, for the hospital’s sake—but I don’t want it to feel like a showroom display, either…”

His voice trailed off vaguely as he fidgeted with his earlobe—then, as if remembering something, he casually tossed a question toward Hye Ji.

“By the way—weren’t *you* supposed to be heading up?”

“Yeah. Spectacularly ruined it, too.”

“A blind date?”

Without answering, Hye Ji simply took a sip of tea and gave a tiny, confirming eyebrow lift.

“Hence the outfit.”

“What about it? Too pretty—shocked you?”

Seon Woo, still holding his cup, gave her attire a cursory glance.

“Want an objective opinion?”

“Want to see me insult you with my eyes again?”

“You’re no better than I am.”

A faint smile finally broke through Seon Woo’s usual impassivity.

Hye Ji stared at him, lips pressing together as if deliberating over something—then, impulsively, she blurted it out:

“Seon Woo—how about *we* get married?”

Perfectly timed, Seon Woo’s phone rang, overlapping her words.

Since it seemed to be the awaited call, he held up a palm toward her and said, “Just a moment.”

“Did you find them? Ah—no. I’ll head to the hospital now. Yes. I’ll see you shortly.”

Her words had been impulsive—and honestly, she’d been slightly anxious about whether he’d heard.

Seon Woo slipped his phone back into his suit jacket pocket indifferently and asked,

“What did you just say?”

His nonchalant demeanor suggested he hadn’t heard her at all. Whether that was fortunate or not, she wasn’t sure.

“Nothing.”

Without hesitation, he grabbed his wallet and car keys from the table and stood.

“Teacher Joo—I need to go. I’m heading to the hospital; if you’re going the same way, I can give you a ride.”

When Hye Ji shook her head, Seon Woo nodded in understanding.

Watching his back as he walked away—unhesitating, without a shred of lingering regret—Hye Ji swallowed the suddenly bitter herbal tea lingering in her mouth.

“Jerk. At least ask me *once* more.”

[This is the timeline separator]

He entered the professor’s office, the business card he’d received on the way up still in hand.

He stretched out on the sofa, staring intently at the piece of paper bearing the contact details.

“What should I even ask?”

Her name? Her number?

Where she lives?

And if they ask *why* he needs it—what should he say then?

Endless question marks cluttered his thoughts.

“They’d be lucky not to get revenge—after using two kids like that.”

Just as he pressed his fingers to his temple, lost in gloomy speculation—a knock on the door cut through his reverie.

Seon Woo pressed firmly at his brow ridge, sat up, and called out,

“Yes.”

“Oh—you *were* here? I came to leave a note, since you weren’t answering your phone.”

“I just got back. Come in.”

His voice was heavy with exhaustion.

At Seon Woo’s permission, the head nurse entered.

“A woman called for you—she insisted I relay the message to you personally.”

“Who was it?”

“She said her name was Ji Eun Jae.”

Seon Woo exhaled faintly.

“I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Understood. I’ll let her know.”

The head nurse smiled and turned to leave.

After the door closed, Seon Woo leaned back onto the sofa again, idly repeating the oddly familiar name in his head two or three times.

Ji Eun Jae? Where had he heard that name before?

A patient, perhaps?

Ji Eun Jae… Ji Eun Jae…

Like a fish suddenly leaping from water, Seon Woo bolted upright from the sofa.

“Ji Eun Jae?!”

He flung open the office door and called out to the head nurse, who hadn’t yet walked more than a few steps away:

“Head Nurse—wait! What was the name again?!”