Beautiful, adorable, and yet frustrating—that was how she looked to Ki Joo. He clenched his fist to his mouth as a muffled groan escaped, then relaxed it and shoved his hand into his pants pocket. Eun Chae waved a hand lightly and turned away.

For the first time, Eun Chae felt a pang of regret not going straight to the practice room. She saw the graduation recital poster on the wall of the art hall and realized it was not far away.

Her friend Mi-rae had said she’d have to invite her parents since inviting a man was out of the question.

Back then, Eun Chae hadn’t thought much of it, but now she desperately wished for Ki Joo to be in the audience.

The only person in the world who loved the sound of her viola.

Yet reality was a barrier she couldn’t break; the audience was predetermined, and if she invited Ki Joo, it would raise eyebrows.

Realizing my own feelings changes nothing, she thought.

Not just the recital, but her marriage arrangement with Han Seung-yoon was also on hold, yet still ongoing. Even that pause wasn’t something she could decide on her own.

Eun Chae thought of a greenhouse flower. Without someone to care for it, it couldn’t thrive—a fragile existence.

She shuddered at this reflection of herself in the things she cherished.

Then she should break out of the pot, even if it meant crawling on the ground. She must do something, anything, to assert her place.

“Is there a drug that can make people tell the truth?”

Ki Joo pondered as he set down his bowl of miso soup. It was more inventive than odd.

Eun Chae picked up her chopsticks, having been quite curious. She hadn’t even tried a piece of sushi yet, despite being at a popular spot among girls her age.

“Excuse me.”

As the sliding door opened and a waiter brought in grilled salmon, Eun Chae picked up a piece of whitefish sushi and said, “They do that in spy movies. Isn’t that fact-checked?”

“In the U.S., opioid painkillers cause more deaths than accidents. So, drugs that mess with the brain aren’t just made recklessly.”

Naturally curious, her adorable demeanor made Ki Joo smile to himself. He looked down to eat, then glanced up again. She chewed her rice carefully and sipped her warm tea before picking up another sushi piece.

“I won’t pry too much as I know better, but are you planning to go after the chairman?”

Eun Chae paused momentarily, then maintained her composure.

“Well, I guess I’ve done a lot of useless trashy stuff.”

Her words were spot on. Song Myung-hwan was indeed a piece of stinking trash.

Ki Joo swallowed a sharp breath and listened attentively to her voice.

“But still.”

She put down her chopsticks with a clatter, meeting his gaze.

“I missed you. Just one word, saying that to me, would have been enough.”

It seemed she couldn’t forget their chilly reunion. In fact, he had probably hurt her again.
What kind of face did I have, and what kind of voice did I use to say those words?

Ki Joo tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to recall how he couldn’t express his frantic emotions in any other way, how he had no other choice.

But she would have to remember, even if she didn’t want to.

“When I let go of your hand, there might have been a sense of relief. Probably.”

Eun Chae overlapped her hands and smiled bitterly. Watching her, Ki Joo’s eyes were submerged in thought.

Yes, I thought so too. That’s why I cowardly left you behind.

Eun Chae, who had shown a lovely demeanor since morning, now looked somber as she met his gaze. Ki Joo, whose heart skipped a beat just at that sight, slowly opened his mouth.

“I didn’t just let go and fly away.”

“…….”

“I fell off a cliff.”

Eun Chae’s eyes, which had dropped her joined hands, trembled delicately. Unvoiced regret lingered at the end of his words.

So imagine how I felt after letting go of your hand.

Back then, Ki Joo wasn’t relieved but rather felt pathetic. A storm was brewing in his heart that wouldn’t subside. He remained unrescued.

What was it about her?

What was it about her that turned her into my everything?

He couldn’t believe it. How could such a ridiculous thing happen? He tried to think it was a nonexistent emotion, but the spark he had lit had grown uncontrollably large.

He should have known at first sight that Song Eun Chae would ruin his life, but also that she would become everything in it.

He spoke for the first time what he had wanted to say hundreds of times during the two years he was away from her to fix the fallout of the project, to investigate Chairman Song Myung-hwan alone.

“I missed you.”

“…….”

“Very much.”

It took too long to say these words.

Was he ridiculously moved just to be able to say them? His lips sealed shut, unable to continue, but Eun Chae, who had lowered her eyes diagonally, murmured in a small voice. It was a question, yet it carried certainty.

“I probably missed you too.”

And thinking of her, who would have felt the same, his heart crumbled again. He took her slender hand, kissed the back of it, and then her wrist.

Tenderly, intensely.