At the End of Memory

Eun-jae curled into herself beneath the blankets and closed her eyes. The sensation of his firm forearm—the one that had held her up—rose unbidden. And then—

An illusion took hold of her, as if that unexpectedly tender voice and the look in his eyes were taking shape right in front of her.

So what. It was all over anyway.

A bitter taste filled her mouth. There would be no going back. Eun-jae forced the thoughts away and tried to sleep, hoping that once this night passed, all of it would be wiped clean.

"You'll need to work hard at rehabilitation. The bones in your arm have fused to a certain extent, but the collarbone is still a bit unstable. I'd like you to be as careful as possible with your body while you do the rehab."

Her attending physician laid it all out for her in careful detail.

Six weeks since the surgery. Six weeks since the cast had gone on.

It had felt as if the world were ending, and yet the world had gone on as if nothing at all had happened.

And then the day the cast came off.

After six full weeks of being bound tight as a vise, even the slightest movement brought considerable pain.

"Ah—"

Eun-jae, barely managing to move her hand, let out a breath. Just that small motion beaded sweat across her round forehead. So this was why rehabilitation was necessary. Living it herself, she finally understood why the doctor had said what he had.

She left the hospital looking rather worn.

"Isn't that Go Eun-jae?"

"I think so. I heard she had that accident—must be here for an appointment."

She was walking through the lobby when she overheard them talking about her.

The sidelong glances, the whispering. It happened every time she came in for a checkup, and it was still thoroughly unpleasant.

She was cutting across the center of the lobby when it happened.

A rather familiar silhouette approaching from a distance stole her gaze of its own accord.

Eun-jae's steps halted.

About three weeks, was it? That was roughly when she'd last seen him. He'd crossed her mind now and then since the matchmaking meeting, but that was all.

They were finished now, after all.

"Miss."

The secretary attending her spoke up at her sudden halt. But Eun-jae didn't answer. She only stared at him.

From far off, frowning as he talked with his own secretary, he kept closing the distance. And Mu-yeol, spotting her, stopped as well.

The moment their eyes met, the noisy lobby fell silent as if it had all been a lie.

Neither of them spoke.

At the way he looked at her, a thoroughly flustered expression spread across Eun-jae's face. Unlike her, whose cheeks had gone faintly stiff, the corner of Mu-yeol's mouth lifted. He walked over slowly and stopped in front of her—about a single step remaining between them.

Facing him, she had the illusion that the very air had changed. Because he'd come so close so suddenly, Eun-jae looked away first.

"Running into you here."

He said it so casually. His voice was so warm that anyone overhearing might have mistaken them for something tender.

She had her head slightly lowered. Mu-yeol cocked his head at an angle in front of her, ducking into her gaze to catch her eyes.

At the sudden gesture, Eun-jae wet her dry lips.

Those pitch-black eyes searched every inch of her face. Wherever his gaze landed, a heat seemed to bloom.

"Your face looks a bit better than last time. Did they take the cast off?"

His gaze slid down and landed on her right hand.

"Yes. Today."

Under that persistent stare, Eun-jae's eyes wandered, with nowhere to settle.

"Heading home?"

"Yes."

Piano practice had been her entire daily life. She had no ordinary hobbies, no wide circle of acquaintances. All she ever did was go back and forth between the practice room and home.

But after the accident, everything had changed. It felt as if the world she'd lived in all this time had been shaken to its foundations.

Her heart was still too heavy to go to the practice room, and yet there was nothing else she particularly wanted to do.

He studied her face a moment longer, then straightened his spine again.

"Then take care getting home."

When Mu-yeol said goodbye, Eun-jae gave a small nod.

At the way she still wouldn't even look at him, Mu-yeol smiled faintly and brushed past her.

"Miss, shall we go?"

The moment he left, the secretary approached. Eun-jae turned her head and watched his retreating back. Beneath the impeccably tailored suit, that straight, broad back seized her gaze of its own accord.

She looked a moment longer, then turned away and started walking again—forcing down the urge that kept rising, the urge to look back.

"In the lobby?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Mi-jung furrowed her brow and fell into thought for a moment.

Go Eun-jae's every movement was being reported to her in full through her secretary. She hadn't noticed anything particularly strange.

"And you're saying the conversation itself was nothing much."

"Yes. They just exchanged a few pleasantries and parted ways."

"Hmm."

So it was nothing, then.

And yet she couldn't understand why this uneasy feeling wouldn't leave her.

"All right."

The secretary bowed respectfully to Mi-jung and left the room.

"Mom, why aren't you moving on this? Go Eun-jae turned him down, didn't she?"

The moment the secretary was gone, Hye-ri pressed her in an irritated voice.

It had already been three weeks since Go Eun-jae had gone to the matchmaking meeting with Cha Mu-yeol. Afterward they'd said they would talk again, but after a word that she had business that would take her to America for a while, there had been no further contact from Oh Seon-ju.

"Mom!!"

"That's enough. You're giving me a headache."

When Mi-jung snapped that out and glared, Hye-ri narrowed her eyes into slits and pouted.

When would be a good time to tell Gwang-hyun? Mi-jung was waiting for the right moment to get Go Eun-jae out of the house.

"She got the cast off today, so I'm going to bring it up. You just stop drinking yourself stupid and wait."

"Come on, freshmen drink. Finals are over."

"It's November. How long are you going to keep calling yourself a freshman?"

Tsk. Mi-jung clicked her tongue. It wasn't the first or second time Hye-ri had been carried home drunk on a secretary's back. Covering for her daughter behind Go Gwang-hyun's back had left Mi-jung thoroughly exhausted.

How was it that her own flesh and blood was both dim-witted and nothing but a source of grief? Just looking at her was so pathetic a sigh slipped out.

"If you want to marry the Cha CEO, sit still and behave. This is exactly why they don't like you over there."

"You really talk so nasty to your own daughter. Ugh, whatever! I'm going out."

"There she goes again!"

Afraid of more nagging, Hye-ri twitched her lips and hurried out of Mi-jung's room.

"Ha. Honestly. What a headache."

Mi-jung pressed her forehead and sighed.

Was marrying a daughter off into a distinguished family really this hard? Nothing was going her way. Breathing heavily, Mi-jung sank once more into the question of what to do about Go Eun-jae.

"How does it taste?"

Mi-jung asked, glancing at Gwang-hyun for his reaction.

Thanks to that wretched daughter of hers who'd crawled out of the house, only Gwang-hyun, Mi-jung, and Eun-jae sat at the dinner table.

"It's fine."

"You've seemed to have no appetite lately. I had the choicest ingredients brought in myself. Please eat plenty."

Mi-jung even went so far as to flake the flesh from the croaker herself, humming through her nose.

Whether she did or didn't, Eun-jae simply went on eating with her left hand.

She didn't even want to share this meal, but sitting at this table had been one of the things she'd always had to do since childhood, so she stayed in her seat.

"Um... dear."

Mi-jung rolled her eyes about, glancing at Gwang-hyun. He didn't answer, only kept working his chopsticks.

"I was thinking we might let Eun-jae live independently."

At Mi-jung's words, Eun-jae's spoon paused.

The deal she'd made with Mi-jung then.

If she went and refused the marriage, Mi-jung had promised to let her go. On the strength of that single promise, she had conveyed her decision to Cha Mu-yeol—even laying her own shame bare.

And yet three weeks had already passed since the matchmaking meeting, and Mi-jung hadn't said a word. Eun-jae had thought she ought to bring it up herself, but she didn't even want to sit across from the woman and talk, so she'd been waiting.

"I already told you no."

But Gwang-hyun was firm.

The little rice she'd eaten sat like a stone. Eun-jae furrowed her brow, lifted her cup, and took a sip of water.

"She got the cast off today. The articles have died down, and no one's paying attention anymore. People probably won't think much of it."

In the end, Gwang-hyun set his chopsticks down with a displeased clack.

At the sound, Mi-jung flinched and glanced at him with uneasy eyes.

"Don't. Just look into another matchmaking meeting."

"What..."

As Mi-jung's words trailed off, Gwang-hyun drank some water and added,

"If things fell through with Chayeong, we just look somewhere else. You pick the meetings carefully."

"Dear. Her condition right now..."

"That's why I'm telling you to look."

"You don't understand. Who's going to welcome her now?"

At last Mi-jung laid her true feelings bare. At her words, Gwang-hyun's eyes grew a shade fiercer.

"The articles about the adoption all came out, and on top of that she can't even play the piano anymore... Before, so many matchmaking offers used to come in for her. Now they all dodge even my phone calls. You have no idea."

"Ahem."

Gwang-hyun cleared his throat. The cutting words unfolding in front of her drove into her heart.

Eun-jae, who had been listening, was just about to force her mouth open when—

"Haa. Fine, I'll look into it. Then we'll marry her off and send her out. That's how it is. You understand."