Chapter 6
In the taxi to Yoon-ah’s home, Young-won stared at her ID card. When he asked the very drunk Yoon-ah for her address, she kept saying “Chungcheongnam-do,” so he had to search her wallet in the eco-bag.
Her original address was a tiny village in Seokcheon-myeon, Gusan-si, Chungnam—a place he’d never heard of. Two stickers on the back showed later addresses: first Banpo-dong, Seocho-gu in Seoul (not far from his own family home in Dogok-dong), and below that her current address.
He flipped the ID over again. The photo showed Yoon-ah just after turning twenty, in a school uniform, smiling with excitement. He couldn’t help but smile.
…Cute.
He glanced at Yoon-ah, fast asleep with her head against the window. He knew she was strong, but today proved how bold she could be.
Senior Im Do-hyun, a fourth-year who barely joined department activities, looked nasty from the start. The girl classmates didn’t seem to know because he didn’t chase younger women, but the guys could tell what kind of person he was at a glance. To Young-won, Do-hyun was human trash.
He’d already lost time trusting Gitae to keep an eye out, and when he arrived and heard Yoon-ah had gone out alone with Do-hyun, his head burned. He dragged Gitae outside and they split up to search.
He thought like a creep—If I were a sex-obsessed idiot, where would I go?—and took the dark side streets. Soon he heard Yoon-ah’s voice. What he found was the opposite of his worst fear: she was holding her own.
He knew where that fearlessness came from—he’d seen it the day her ex-husband, Lee Seong-hee, came to the café with a lawyer.
“So you’re really planning to strip me for everything, huh?”
“Yes. I’ve decided. Thanks for finally waking me up!”
He didn’t know all the details then, but it was clear the ex had a big weak point. Compared to fighting a famous man like that, jerks like Do-hyun were nothing.
Better to see her stand up for herself than watch her shrink and suffer. And she could really drink—though after three or more bottles of soju in two hours, anyone would be drunk.
When Yoon-ah started to topple forward, Young-won caught her forehead with his palm and eased her back just as the taxi stopped. He gently shook her shoulder.
“Boss, we’re here.”
“…Wh-where…?”
“Your place. You can get in from here, right? I’ll keep the taxi.”
“Ah, yes… Thanks… Young-won…”
She waved, barely meeting his eyes, and got out safely.
But after a few wobbly steps, she sat down on the flowerbed ledge at the entrance of the building. Her eco-bag slipped from her hand.
The taxi driver, worried like a dad, looked at Young-won.
“Young man, you’re leaving her like that?”
“…I’ll get out.”
“Good choice. It’s cold—she’ll get sick. Just see her upstairs. I hear she’s your boss.”
“…Yes.”
He’d wanted to avoid gossip—rumors about her divorce were already wild—but he couldn’t leave someone this drunk outside.
He picked up her eco-bag and bent toward her drooping head.
“Boss, can you walk?”
She slowly lifted her head, eyes barely open. When she recognized him, she smiled lazily.
“Young-won… What are you doing at my house…?”
Even reeking of soju and talking nonsense, she smiled prettily. His back suddenly felt hot; he cooled his face with a cold hand.
“…This isn’t your house entrance yet. We have to go up,” he said.
“It’s still not? No wonder it’s cold… Go home safe, Young-won…”
After a polite goodbye, she looked like she’d stand—then she lay back across the narrow flowerbed, one arm and one leg dangling over the side, and fell asleep again.
If she slept on that cold stone, she really would get sick. While he hesitated how to wake her, her body started to slide off the ledge.
“B-Boss!”
He instinctively caught her. One arm naturally went around his neck. She murmured, frowning a little,
“…Cold…”
Then her other arm wrapped his neck too—her survival instinct reaching for warmth.
Young-won froze. Other than his sister, he’d never held a woman this long, and certainly not this close. Panic brought a cold sweat. When she clung tighter, he came to his senses and carried her into the building.
That’s when the real problem started: he became painfully aware he was holding Yoon-ah.
She was light as a feather, her slim body fit perfectly in his arms, and her soft, shaky breaths tickled his ear—her lips almost brushing it.
Then she breathed his name, barely a whisper:
“Young-won…”
Cold sweat ran down his back. He rushed into the elevator, slammed the 13 button, and jabbed Close like mad. It still felt too slow.
Before the doors fully opened, he bolted out, found her unit number from the ID, and hit a new wall: he didn’t know the door code.
He shook her gently.
“Boss, what’s the password? How do I open it?”
“Ah… my head… hurts…”
“We’re really at your door. I’m going to set you down, okay?”
“Don’t… shake me…”
She tightened her arms again and tucked her face against his shoulder, bringing her lips close to his ear once more. His body betrayed him; he forced his thoughts to focus.
“Card.”
He remembered seeing a door-lock card in her wallet. He crouched to fish the wallet from the eco-bag hanging on his arm.
That pressed Yoon-ah between his thigh and chest; he felt her softness through his shirt and nearly swore at himself.
Come on, brain—focus. Don’t be an idiot.
He grabbed the card and tapped the lock. Beep. The door opened.
It was a one-room place; the bed faced the door. Almost there.
Kicking off his sneakers, he adjusted his grip and hurried to the bed. His jeans were uncomfortably tight; for a second he almost dropped her—but he steadied himself.
You can do this. Don’t mess up now.
He braced one knee on the bed, bent low, and set her down gently. He slid his hands out from under her back, then reached to move the arm looped around his neck.
“…Gran… ma… together…” she murmured in a tiny voice.
At the same time, both her legs wrapped around his waist and squeezed tight.
