‘What are you going to do? In the world…’

Mumbling incoherently, her mother covered her face with trembling hands.

‘He’s dead. He’s dead…’

Startled by her words, Eun Chae stumbled backward, the sound of her shoes scraping the dirt. Chairman Song quickly turned his head, but Eun Chae barely managed to hide.

‘Kongi…’

She sobbed, recalling the name of the dog that died around that time.

The dream ended there. Eun Chae felt a floating sensation and slowly opened her eyes.

She was slightly disoriented for about thirty seconds. When she fully regained consciousness, she had the illusion that the starry night sky was pouring into her embrace.

“Are you awake?”

Startled by Ki Joo’s face breaking through the night sky, Eun Chae bolted upright. He stopped to steady her.

“Stay still.”

That’s right. Ki Joo was
Eun Chae covered her reddened face with both hands. Amidst this, Ki Joo steadily entered the main building and calmly ascended the stairs.

If she jumped out of his arms here, she would wake not only the chairman but also all the resident staff.

To avoid such an unfortunate incident, Eun Chae had no choice but to stay still.

Ki Joo skillfully found her room even in the darkness and set her down on the bed.

Just as she thought he was leaving and was hastily fixing her clothes, his low voice reached her ears.

“Don’t take sleeping pills.”

Fully awake now, Eun Chae frowned due to a headache.

She rubbed her lukewarm forehead, and a dream suddenly came to mind, causing goosebumps on her arms.

She looked up at Ki Joo, who seemed to be waiting for a response.

As their eyes met, the scenes in her head replayed slowly in her trembling voice, as vivid as if she was seeing them right in front of her.

Of course, it was real, not a dream.

The dog she cherished like a younger sibling, Kong Soon Yi, and the words between her mother and Chairman Song related to Kong Soon Yi’s death.

As Eun Chae began to recount the story, Ki Joo suddenly interrupted her.

“Eun Chae.”

He leaned forward with one hand on the bedsheet, closely examining her expression as if he needed confirmation.

“Do you remember only that part of the conversation?”

After a brief silence, Eun Chae grimaced, trying to recall more details.

“Yes. I couldn’t have known since they hid it from me.”

Ki Joo stood up, gazing down at her quietly.

“Just a few days ago, a dog died. It must be Chairman Song’s doing. I can’t believe I forgot.”

Eun Chae rebuked herself, biting her lip.

“To that man, I was never a daughter, and I don’t think he ever loved Mom.”

Her voice echoed like it was coming from a cave. Her face, pale as if drained of blood, showed no tears, but her words were soaked with them.

She then looked straight into Ki Joo’s eyes, which had averted their gaze from her.

“What’s it like to wipe the feet of Chairman Song?”

Silence.

“Are you becoming the same kind of person?”

Ki Joo didn’t respond. Eun Chae looked at his tightly closed lips and flopped down on the bed, turning her back. Regretting having poured out her emotions, she closed her eyes and sighed inaudibly. She felt his presence leave the room.

He soon returned, placed a cup of water on the bedside table, and started rummaging through the drawer.

Curious, Eun Chae turned her head and saw him leaving with two bottles of sleeping pills. She sat up after he had left the water for her and lay back down, crossing her arms under her head and turning to her side. She realized she hadn’t responded to his advice against sleeping pills. He didn’t reply to her provoking words but took the pills away.

Eun Chae pressed her throbbing eyes with the back of her hand. Mists swirled in the dark view.

He shouldn’t have been nice to her.

She had to live in a reality without
Even though she never had any expectations, Eun Chae felt as if Ki Joo was telling her not to have any. She instinctively reached towards the bedside drawer, then hesitated and retracted her hand.

Ah.

There were no sleeping pills left; Ki Joo had taken them all. Yet, her mouth tasted bitter as if she had swallowed them.

This time, all the harsh words were hers.

Eun Chae lay face down on the bed, burying her face in the pillow.

‘What’s it like to wipe the feet of Chairman Song?’

Silence.

‘Are you becoming the same kind of person?’

Those thoughts floated in her mind. Her sharp, cutting voice in that situation, the silence in between – it bothered her. She should have heard an answer, even a harsh one. She should have provoked a reaction from him.

Why did you just look at me with those eyes and say nothing, Ki Joo?

Eun Chae felt heat rising to her previously lukewarm forehead but did nothing about it.

Her heart felt strange. Was this what being sick felt like?

Forcibly closed by the pillow, her eyes opened again. Her delicate eyelashes fluttered like the tail feathers of a peacock.

Hurting him meant hurting herself too.

She had come to understand this bizarre and cruel fact.

The sky had cleared abruptly after a sudden heavy snowfall, unusual for the upper regions that had been bracing for a blizzard. The sun shone, warming the air slightly on this fortunate day when Park Mu Sung passed away. His last moments were so frail that he couldn’t even breathe on his own, leaving no will behind.

Chairman Song postponed Eun Chae’s wedding, which was imminent, by a week. This act further fueled talks about the chairman’s character.

Public opinion buzzed about his great devotion, caring for his dying friend to the end. Additionally, it came to light that after Park became ill, the chairman had taken in his son and wife, caring for them as his own family.

At the funeral, the chairman’s connections formed long lines, and he shed tears even for Park’s wife and son, an unusual sight for his typically strong demeanor. His face, seldom seen wet with tears, was soaked.

After the formalities of the funeral, Eun Chae spotted Park’s son, exhausted and irritated, smoking in a corner of the building.

“Even others are shedding tears, but his own son is so heartless.”

She muttered softly, glancing at Ki Joo standing beside her.

That morning in the Philippines two years ago, after sharing love with Ki Joo, he suddenly spoke up as if prodded, though nobody had asked. He talked about his parents’ death and how not a single tear came to him.

It was as if he was fulfilling an obligation, yet he spoke of it casually, like a light everyday matter.