I Knew You'd Come Here

"Ugh! Let go—aren't you letting go?"

Do Hyun-soo thrashed and struggled, desperate to escape Moon Kang-hyun's grip, but slipping free of a man nearly 190 centimeters tall with a body like solid steel was simply impossible.

"What's the matter? People might get the wrong idea."

Kang-hyun smiled brightly and squeezed even harder. To anyone watching, it looked exactly like a friendly handshake.

With the feeling of his fingers being crushed, Do Hyun-soo let out a groan.

"You son of a bitch, are you insane?"

The voice, noticeably weaker than before, made Kang-hyun smirk.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to figure that out. And here I thought we'd known each other since high school."

"You crazy bastard—I already knew you were out of your mind. Let go. Let go, I said."

It must have hurt like hell, because Do Hyun-soo's face had gone white. He flailed wildly, doing everything he could to break away.

Kang-hyun found the very act of holding the man's hand disgusting, so he had no intention of dragging it out. He stepped in close and dropped his voice to a low warning right at Do Hyun-soo's ear.

"From now on, if you insult Seo Lee-hwan, or so much as mention his sister, you're going to regret it."

"Ugh—okay, okay! Let go now!"

The moment Kang-hyun released him, Do Hyun-soo leapt backward as if launched off a springboard.

Moaning and kneading his mauled hand, he fired off a string of curses—then, aware of the eyes around them, flushed red and cut himself off.

"Damn it, ✕✕."

Then he bolted. Cheon Eun-jung, watching his retreating back, twisted her lips into a sneer and muttered.

"Filthy little creep."

Apparently still unsatisfied, she turned to Kang-hyun.

"Weren't you too easy on him? You should've torn his mouth open so he could never say shit like that again."

Kang-hyun regarded Cheon Eun-jung with an oddly fresh sense of revelation. So this was why he'd always disliked her, he realized.

"I held back out of consideration for your reputation. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered."

"Ah…"

Cheon Eun-jung let out a groan, as if only now remembering where they were.

No wonder she gets into trouble every waking hour of her life. Kang-hyun clicked his tongue.

Whatever he thought of her, Cheon Eun-jung had grown a little somber. Because of Do Hyun-soo, Seo Lee-hwan—the memory she'd worked so hard to bury in the far reaches of her mind—had resurfaced.

Seo Lee-hwan, who laughed easily, who was kind and considerate… a man with not a single flaw to be found.

The death of a first love that had ended before she could even confess was one of the few things that could drag her spirits down into the depths.

She'd never intended anything to happen between them, never allowed herself even a flicker of hope that it could—but the heart didn't work that way.

Now that she knew she would never see him again, he felt precious, and achingly missed, and unbearably pitiable. All those tangled emotions churned together and left her aching.

"God, seriously. That bastard Do Hyun-soo just put me in the shittiest mood."

Kang-hyun watched her grumble with a scrunched-up face, and exhaled a breath of pure exasperation—somehow even more speechless than before.

At the moment, Cheon Eun-jung was plastered head to toe in luxury goods. Her meticulously made-up face and short bob lent her an image that was urbane and polished, undeniably intellectual.

But no amount of money spent on appearances could fix the problem. Her mouth was pure trash. Unable to bring himself to say it out loud, Kang-hyun fixed her with a chilly stare and spoke instead.

"Or, you know, we could call it a day and head back."

Cheon Eun-jung narrowed her eyes at him.

"Is that really what you want, or are you just saying it?"

When Kang-hyun shot her a look of utter disbelief, she shrugged and said,

"The only way to shake off this shitty mood is to be around people. Locking myself up at home does me zero good."

"You…"

Unbelievable brat. Kang-hyun barely swallowed the word, and Cheon Eun-jung flashed him a wicked grin.

"Come on, come on. You've got a long way to go before you're heading home, so wake up from that dream. Smile."

And with that, she dragged him into the crowd of the party.

Kang-hyun ground his teeth, regretting the choices that had led him to pick Cheon Eun-jung of all people.

The days slipped by, and the weekend arrived. Standing in the sun waiting for Kang-hyun's car, Lee-jin took a deep breath—as if that alone might dissolve the tension in her chest.

Kang-hyun hadn't come by the workshop all week, saying he was tied up with something busy, so this was the first time she'd seen his face in nearly a week.

Was that why she felt so nervous? Or was there some other reason?

The moment a memory surfaced—of kissing him—the back of her neck went hot, and she fanned herself with her hand. As she did, Kang-hyun's car pulled up.

"Hot out here?"

Kang-hyun asked with a smile, evidently having caught her fanning herself. He was exactly the same as always—so unremarkably himself that her nerves felt almost laughable.

"Yeah, I was standing in the sun. It got warm."

So Lee-jin treated him as naturally as she could manage. They made small talk as the car sped along, and before long they arrived at Cheongjukje.

Once again, his car turned in through the back gate and climbed up the hill. Lee-jin remembered the huge haul of cooking ingredients he'd brought last time and whipped around to look—only to find the back seat completely empty.

"Why do you look disappointed?"

Kang-hyun stepped out of the car, smiling.

"I'm not disappointed."

Lee-jin protested—what's that supposed to mean?—and climbed out after him.

The Moon Kang-hyun of last weekend had been, in many ways, like something out of a witch's cottage. He'd kept piling food in front of her, relentlessly, until she genuinely wondered whether the witch from Hansel and Gretel had been reborn in the flesh.

Thanks to him, she'd spent the weekend learning firsthand that a charged, ambiguous atmosphere and a mountain of food were two very different things.

Eating like that every week would put weight on her in no time. So Lee-jin wasn't disappointed that Kang-hyun's car was empty—because he certainly wasn't about to let her go hungry, either.

But then Kang-hyun popped the trunk and beckoned her over to take a look. Lee-jin leaned in without thinking—and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"What is that?"

Coming eye to eye with something's eyeball out of nowhere, Lee-jin startled so badly she stumbled. Kang-hyun caught her with one arm.

"First time seeing an uncleaned squid?"

She'd never known squid eyes were that big and clear. Startled, Lee-jin nodded reflexively, then snapped her head sideways.

"Wait—so it's a yes or a no?"

"The ones I've seen never looked like that."

And it wasn't just squid. Some unidentifiable fish was staring back at her too, along with an assortment of clams and shellfish and a lobster with its claws bound. This time, apparently, it was a full seafood sampler.

"Right. That's one thing you never needed to see."

Whether he'd drawn his own conclusion that she clearly hadn't, Kang-hyun declared it on his own terms and bumped his forehead against hers with a soft thunk. Apparently she was the only one taken aback by his shameless audacity.

She'd thought for a split second that his lips would land on hers—her eyes went round—then, suddenly aware of how pressed together their bodies were, she scrambled backward away from him.

She hadn't felt even a flicker of discomfort at his arm wrapped around her waist. Had she grown used to this level of skinship now?

The realization was something of a shock, and she was still blinking blankly at nothing when Kang-hyun gestured for them to go inside.

"We're carving today, right?"

"Huh? Oh—yeah."

Lee-jin collected herself, nodded, and headed inside.

Making ceramics was a slow, patient craft.

Once clay that had passed through the vacuum pugmill was shaped on the wheel, it couldn't go straight into the kiln—it first needed time to dry indoors.

After that came trimming the walls to adjust the thickness and shaving away excess clay. Only once the form was finished and refined could the carving begin.

Carving demanded delicate precision and deep concentration. Which raised the question—could she manage it? She shot a sidelong glance at Kang-hyun, the culprit who kept stealing her attention.

"I'll come get you when dinner's ready. Focus on your work."

His manner was almost unbearably matter-of-fact.

"Okay. Thanks."

Lee-jin fled to the studio. The disappointment that welled up unbidden at Kang-hyun's detached attitude felt strange and unfamiliar even to herself.

Too much of this was a problem, too much of that was a problem. What on earth did she want from him?

She'd struggled to cope with the Moon Kang-hyun who charged at her as if he'd steal her very soul—and yet this calm, composed Moon Kang-hyun somehow left her feeling let down. Sighing, Lee-jin turned her attention to the ceramics drying in the studio.

"I'm the problem, aren't I."

Chiding herself under her breath, Lee-jin buried herself in her work to forget her troubled thoughts.

Dinner—lobster grilled in butter and every kind of seafood besides—was superb.

Was Kang-hyun's manner strange during it? No, not at all. They'd clearly enjoyed an easy, pleasant conversation, and yet, somehow, it had felt hollow.

So Lee-jin threw herself even deeper into her work. By the time she finished the carving, it was nearly eleven at night.

Maybe I'll go get some fresh air.

Her feet carried her toward the garden. Beneath the yellow glow of the streetlamps, the grounds lay hushed and tranquil. As she crossed the pedestrian bridge, she sensed the presence of someone nearby.

Startled, Lee-jin's eyes fixed on the pool of shadow beneath a streetlamp.

Shoulders broad enough to claim an entire bench, legs stretched out at an angle—she knew at once who owned that silhouette.

"You knew I was here, and came looking for me?"

There was a playful lilt to the question. Lee-jin shook her head.

"No. I came because I didn't know."

At that, he patted the seat beside him.

"Well, I came because I knew you'd come here."

Maybe it was the streetlamp, but the look in Kang-hyun's eyes as he said it was dark and rich, sunk deep like aged wine.

Lee-jin's heart lurched.

Because she finally understood—this was the look she had wanted him to give her. Not those flat, indifferent eyes, but this one.