Chapter 38. Round

“Ijun.”

“I’ve only ever thought of you. I never once thought we were different.”

Being born into a good family was something he considered a kind of gift.
Whether he wanted it or not, he thought it was better than having nothing.
The only reason he thought the house of Chairman Kang, the place where he was born and raised, was okay—was because of Yooa.

Looking back, she had always been there in every moment.

“Stress? Are you saying someone can faint just from that?”

“In a weakened mental state, yes. And especially since Chairman Kang seems healthy but is elderly… In any case, we’ll do our best.”

Ijun knew that Chairman Kang constantly worried about Juhee.
He had lost his reliable heir to a car accident, and she was his only remaining blood.

Through Juhee, Ijun had come to understand the saying that the more inadequate the child, the more they weigh on a parent’s heart.
Even when Juhee brought home Han Baekkyung—who threw around money like water and was little more than a thug—as a marriage candidate, Chairman Kang pretended not to notice.

“Yooa, let’s be honest. The Taegyeom family isn’t exactly peaceful or smooth, right?”

To Yooa, who grew up in the servants’ quarters, no explanation was needed.
Maybe that’s why it felt comfortable.
Ijun let out a wry smile as he said he’d probably have to start intervening in his grandfather’s affairs.

“Grandfather probably already knows.”
“Really?”
“He just needs time to accept it. Parents always want to see only the good in their children.”

Yooa could feel that Ijun was trying to distance Juhee from Chairman Kang as much as possible.
Some things don’t need to be said aloud to be understood.
Having known him for so long, she could tell from his slightly changed breathing and trembling pupils.

“Parental love… it’s hard to understand.”

Seeing him trail off, struggling with something he didn’t fully grasp, brought tears to Yooa’s eyes.
No—he will understand it. And not with much difficulty.

She remembered the day he sent off Sejin for the last time, how he struggled to tilt his head back and look up at the sky.

Why hadn’t she looked at him more closely?
He’d contacted well-known foreign allergy specialists and supported everything Yooa wanted to do for Sejin without holding back.

“When that time comes, you’ll do just fine, Ijun.”

Was I the one who closed my eyes and ears?
Tears welled up in Yooa’s eyes.
She had thought she was the only one suffering, the only one protecting Sejin.
She never realized that Ijun had also been protecting Sejin alone in his own way.

A lonely person.

The thought that she had left him alone in that loneliness became too much to bear.
Once she finally accepted her guilt, she could finally look at Ijun properly.

“I promise. Just believe this time.”

Leaning back and stretching out his arms, Ijun gave a soft smile.
Did he really need to look that determined just to ask her to trust him?

To him, Yooa was someone he missed even after spending all day together.
If he could, he would take her to work, put a desk next to his, and watch her all day.

“Say more. The way you chatter on is kind of cute.”

Someone he missed during breakfast, lunch, and dinner—Yoon Yooa.

Ijun’s cheeky comment flustered her.

“I’m too old to be called cute!”

Had he ever told her she was cute before?
Ijun shrugged.

“It was a compliment.”
“Please don’t say things like that in front of others! What if someone hears?”

She grumbled that it would be too embarrassing to show her face afterward.
Seeing her pout and squint her eyes, he let out a sigh.

“I wouldn’t say it in front of others. Who would I be saying it for?”
“Huh?”
“When I say you’re cute.”

When had their roles reversed?

Yooa found herself sitting on a small table she normally used for folding clothes or setting out her laptop.
Ijun’s body blocked her from falling, and it radiated heat.

Noticing the change in him, her ears flushed red.

Ijun lowered his head to her ear and whispered warmly.

“It means I’m turned on.”

The neatly stored laptop fell from the shelf.
His lust was so intense it began to manifest in physical damage.

A cloud-shaped mood light hit the ground and its batteries rolled away.
A mug left behind after coffee spilled. A framed picture fell from the wall. Things were breaking, spilling, shattering.

“I meant to give this to you before, but now’s perfect.”

To Yooa, who was upset that it would take a week to repair her laptop, he placed a card in front of her.

“I was just waiting for the right moment to give it.”
“You were waiting for the right time? You?”
“Yeah. Why are you the only one who doesn’t know that you have a problem with some parts of me?”

He raised one corner of his lips, saying her eating and playing well had been his recent concern.
He joked that he wanted to do even more for her but could only offer a card, worried she’d accuse him of flaunting money.
Yooa gave a dry laugh.

“I never said you were flaunting money.”
“I know. You said something similar though. What was it again? That because I’m Kang Ijun, I bark like a dog?”
“That was forever ago. I was young then!”
“I was young too.”

Ijun remembered how it started.

Chairman Kang, worried about his insomnia, had brought him a puppy so he wouldn’t feel alone at night.
Its fur was fluffy, the color of coffee with two drops of milk. It grew fast.

Before marrying Baekkyung, Juhee had been sensitive to public concern.
To a chaebol, staying single was seen as a flaw.

In fact, people said it would’ve been better to marry anyone and get divorced than to still be single.
The constant pressure had made her razor-edged all day.

“Everyone tried to hide it, but even as a kid, I could feel it. How could I not?”

The dog, sensitive to the smallest noise, barked at Juhee when she came into Ijun’s room one night.
A few days later, it was found dead in a quiet corner of the garden.

Even when a vet was called, the answer was vague: it had probably eaten something bad.

“I think she mixed something into its treats or food. She always hated the dog hair and noise. I should’ve been more careful.”

He remembered all the medicine bottles in her room and bit his lip, convinced she’d picked a toxic one.

Yooa gently pulled his head into her arms.

As she held him, her heartbeat thudded softly and rhythmically in his ears.
Slowly, he continued.

“The vet wanted to take the dog, but I insisted on cremating it and burying it in the garden. You helped me, remember?”
“I was coming back from running an errand. You were standing in the rain, soaked… I couldn’t just walk past.”
“I wasn’t used to digging, and I got blisters on my hands.”

So he waited until the ground was soft with rain.
That moment of helplessness made him resolve to protect what he loved.
That determination is what turned him into an adult.

Yooa gently ran her hand through his hair.
Letting himself lean into her, Ijun muttered like he had been wronged.

“But, Yooa.”
“Yes?”
“I think I once told you your name had a lot of soft round sounds—like circles. That it sounded gentle and cute.”

His voice sharpened as he asked how she could call him a dog when he’d only ever said nice things.
Yooa was left speechless.

“Gentle words? Come on.”
“What?”
“That wasn’t a compliment. You think I didn’t know that?”