Chairman Song Myung Hwan looked scornfully at the top of the stairs for a moment, then turned away. Ham An Daeok, who had been standing anxiously in case the chairman went up to catch Eun Chae, finally heaved a sigh of relief.

The chairman went into his room, telling him to go in and rest. As soon as the door closed, Kwon Ki Joo, who had been silent, raised his eyes with furrowed brows.

In this large mansion, the only places Song Eun Chae could hide were the greenhouse and her own room, and the greenhouse had been demolished.

Ki Joo climbed the stairs, step by step. Behind him, he could hear Ham An Daeok’s faint voice of encouragement.

Once he reached the living room on the second floor, Ki Joo carefully examined his soninlaw. It was as quiet as death.

Step by step.

He walked to the door of Eun Chae’s room, making a sound with each step. From the moment he bent his arm to knock, he knew. That there was no one there.

Knock, knock.

As expected, there was no response. Ki Joo clenched his empty hand that had been left hanging in the air and rubbed his cheekbones.

The face of Song Eun Chae, who seemed to be suffocating in the ruined greenhouse, happened to cross his mind.

Ki Joo turned around. He stepped down the stairs one by one, and then suddenly he ran down.

Her straight back. Her steady steps. Her empty eyes.

Those things indiscriminately tore through his mind.

Ki Joo opened the gate. Just as Kwang Il was getting out of the car parked in front of the house and saying something, Ki Joo just passed by him. He got into the open driver’s seat and closed the door.

A throbbing headache was pressing down on his head.

((())) ((())) ((()))

Seon San was submerged in the rain. Eun Chae had been standing in front of her mother’s grave in the relentless rain for about an hour. By then, not only her hair but also the clothes she was wearing were completely soaked. Her vacant eyes scanned the surroundings aimlessly.

The grave where a bunch of chrysanthemums had been placed, a tombstone washed by rain.

Slowly, Eun Chae collapsed in front of it. She sank her knees into the mud on her own, and then fell flat. Instead of keeping her back straight as usual, she cried soundlessly.

Longing. Resentment. Guilt.

She felt crushed by those emotions that she had been denying, Eun Chae thought.

Then, when she raised her head, she spotted a silhouette rising, enveloped in mist.

In this cold mountain, wearing only a black suit. Even though his loafers were sinking deep into the wet soil, he calmly pulled his foot out and climbed up, and climbed up again.

When their eyes met, Eun Chae felt a sting in her retina. It felt like his gaze was piercing her pupils.

Ki Joo didn’t care about her reaction and trudged forward. Then, he opened a black umbrella and held it above her head.

Water dripped from his soaked body.

Suddenly, Eun Chae felt like she was sinking into a swamp deeper than the muddy puddle.

Listening to the sound of the raindrops hitting the umbrella, she slowly picked herself up.

With a stiff body chilled by the cold, Eun Chae, who had pushed away his hand holding the umbrella, saying that she didn’t need it and he should use it, staggered forward.

Ki Joo seemed to take a few steps back as his center of gravity shifted, but he soon stood crookedly in his place. He watched her walking away and touched his throat. Then, he tossed the umbrella he was holding with his other hand.

At that sound, Eun Chae paused and turned around. Rain was pouring into the umbrella stuck in the mud.

“Oh,” she let out a sigh.

Without any hesitation, Ki Joo lifted his foot. As he quickly closed the distance, he said,

“Let’s get soaked together, then.”

His long, firm arm wrapped around Eun Chae’s shoulder. She didn’t have the strength to question what he was doing.

He, who was getting wet in the rain with her, was faintly visible in her view.

((())) ((())) ((()))

After taking a shower, Eun Chae timidly stepped onto the bathroom threshold and shyly raised her head. The shirt she was wearing was long as a dress, and the size was too big. It was his shirt, filled with the distinctive scent of Kwon Ki Joo.

At the sound of the door closing, Ki Joo glanced at her while holding his phone to his ear.

“I found it at the school art hall.”

His sharp eyes fell in sequence from Eun Chae’s wet hair to beneath her shirt, her exposed knees, and her damp feet.

“…You said you would practice. Yes, like that.”

By the time Eun Chae noticed the strength returning to her toes, he had finished his call and carelessly tossed his phone onto the sofa.

Starting with her gaze following the thrown phone, she awkwardly surveyed the interior of the officetel.

It seemed to be his house. But it didn’t look like he frequented it often, the floor was so polished it even reflected a sheen.

As she followed the aimless path of Ki Joo’s gaze, an unwrapped intercom caught her eye. Furniture and electronic devices that seemed barely used occupied the room.

Why had they come here?