A Room Without Answers

She couldn't clearly remember what she'd said to him. She must have babbled about whatever came into view, because before long Kang-hyun's car pulled up beside her.

He stepped out, shrugged off his jacket, and draped it over her shoulders. Then he opened the passenger door and ushered her inside.

It was warm and quiet. The scent of him clinging to the jacket inexplicably put her heart at ease, and she couldn't say why.

He asked nothing as he drove. Lee-jin racked her brain for a way to explain the situation, and the effort was almost comical. Honestly, her head wasn't working well enough to invent any excuse. She'd cried so much that she simply felt numb.

Buried in Kang-hyun's jacket, Lee-jin stared out the window while the city's dazzling lights streamed past in a blur. Only when his car turned into the parking lot at Cheongjukje did she learn their destination—and the relief of arriving somewhere familiar washed over her.

Past the lawn-lined garden and into the main house, the soft amber lighting settled her nerves a little further.

"Want something to drink? Or should I get you something to eat?"

At Kang-hyun's question as he opened the refrigerator, Lee-jin's eyes went round. The place might have been fully furnished, but it was still, quite plainly, an empty house.

Kang-hyun lived in his officetel. Cheongjukje sat vacant, merely kept up by staff.

"There's food here?"

Seeing her startled by something so trivial, Kang-hyun smirked. "Don't worry—I've got everything stocked, food included."

The plate he pulled from the refrigerator held fruit of every variety, arranged beautifully, as though someone had prepared it all in advance.

In truth, after hanging up on Lee-jin earlier, Kang-hyun had called the housekeeping staff and ordered them to fill the kitchen with essentials—but she knew none of that, so the whole thing struck her as one mystery after another.

He set the plate of fruit, cheesecake, and little tarts on the table, then returned with wine and glasses.

"If you can't drink, there's sparkling water. Tea, too."

"No, this is fine."

Her nerves were frayed enough that she was craving a drink anyway.

Watching the red wine as he poured, Lee-jin suddenly remembered the phone call from his side of it—how baffling it must have been to pick up and hear her sobbing. A sigh slipped through her teeth. He must have been shocked out of his mind.

An inexplicable embarrassment crept over her, and she downed the glass he handed her before asking, "Why aren't you asking what happened?"

Kang-hyun let out an awkward laugh at the sight of her drinking wine like water. "Why would I? You're not crying now, so that's what matters. If it were something you wanted to talk about, you'd have said it in the car."

Fair enough. She was grateful he wasn't pressing. However she dressed up the answer, it was a private wound—hers and her mother's both.

"I don't know what it was, but anyway, let it all out. Keep bottling things up and it'll make you sick."

"If it were that easy, wouldn't everyone live to a hundred?"

Her petulant comeback was so endearing that the corners of Kang-hyun's mouth loosened. "That's right. You, Seo Lee-jin, are required to live to a hundred."

At his teasing rejoinder, a smile tugged at her lips. How many people were there in her life with whom she could trade such meaningless banter?

Before she knew it, Lee-jin was regarding him with fresh eyes—Kang-hyun, who had muscled his way into her life and dug in for good.

"What?"

Sensing something different in her gaze, he tilted his head.

"Nothing. It's just—I thought I'd have nowhere to go when I left the house. But here's this wonderful place, and someone who'll actually listen to me. It makes me happy, that's all…"

She murmured it like a lament, fidgeting with her fingertips.

"Want to live here?"

Then came a sentence that made her doubt her own ears.

"What?"

Lee-jin jerked her head up, startled, her eyes swirling with alarm.

"If you want, you can stay here. While you finish your pottery."

Ah—pottery. Only then did the turbulence in her eyes settle. What on earth had she been imagining?

No matter how she turned it over, her own misreading was so absurd that she let out a hollow breath. Heat flooded her cheeks anyway.

"Well. If I had nowhere to go every day, like today, then maybe…"

At her answer, Kang-hyun couldn't help a small laugh. Cute. So it takes having nowhere to go before she'll accept anyone's kindness.

He was Moon Kang-hyun, a man who'd pull exactly that kind of stunt if it served his purposes—but he kept that thought buried and simply smiled.

"Then consider this place at your service, for whenever you're out on the street."

At his easy drawl, Lee-jin laughed along. "Anyway—thank you. I keep putting you out because of my brother. I'm sorry, and grateful, and… yeah."

"This isn't putting me out. And you're allowed to put me out. No need to apologize over this much."

Lee-jin wondered whether Kang-hyun was acting strange today, or whether she was the strange one. The more she listened to him, the faster her heart raced—which suggested she was the stranger of the two.

Then she glanced at the wine glass in her hand and set it down at once. The alcohol might be to blame for all these odd feelings.

Kang-hyun chuckled openly at her transparent maneuver. Lee-jin was generally sharp and capable, but every so often she showed gaps like this one, and he found that side of her rather adorable.

"Going to sleep?"

"Huh?"

Her eyes went wide. He'd said it deliberately, precisely to see that face—a remark dripping with the potential for misunderstanding. But now that he'd gotten the reaction he wanted, a tangle of impulses was tormenting him instead.

"You look exhausted. Thought you might want to finally get some rest."

"I'm—I'm fine. I should probably head home…"

"You don't want to go home tonight."

"…"

How did he read her like a ghost, every single time? Hit dead center, Lee-jin pressed her lips shut.

"There are how many rooms in this place? You think I can't spare you one?"

Kang-hyun clicked his tongue and rose from his seat. "I'll show you the way. Come on."

She nodded and followed him. As they walked through the living room, the woody scent particular to a hanok soothed her spirit, and her gaze lingered for a moment on the tranquil view beyond the glass—lamplights glowing here and there across the darkened garden, radiating a gentle warmth.

"Take this one. If you pull the curtains open in this room, the garden's right outside the window."

The room he offered was surely the finest in the house—not one of the rows of guest rooms, but the kind meant for the master of the estate. It was too much. Too considerate.

Lee-jin decided this was more than a brother's friend ought to give.

"Thank you."

The answer came easily, but her mind did not. Scenes kept surfacing—every moment he'd given her more than necessary—and they tangled together until everything turned to confusion.

She was slipping into the room like she was fleeing when his hand closed around her wrist.

"Lee-jin."

At his call, she slowly lifted her eyes to his. Her bewilderment must have been written plainly across her face.

Guilt pricked at her, as if she'd committed some crime. To misread his kindness in such an impure way. If Lee-hwan could see her now, he'd never let it go—when exactly did you turn into such a spoiled princess, Seo Lee-jin?

"It's just—you treat me too well, and it makes me feel strange, that's all."

"Strange how?"

The grip on her wrist distracted her, and she squirmed for a moment. But Kang-hyun showed no intention whatsoever of letting go.

With a sigh, Lee-jin did her best to look unaffected. "You're just looking out for your friend's little sister because you feel sorry for her. But sometimes you go too far. It creates misunderstandings. For me, and for other people."

After a soft laugh, Kang-hyun looked her dead in the eye. "And if it's not a misunderstanding?"

"Huh?"

Quashing the uproar inside her, Lee-jin stared back at him, dazed. She couldn't even look away—not until she figured out whether he was teasing her, or whether something else lay hidden beneath.

"I'm not the kind of man," he said, "who lavishes attention on people he doesn't care about."

His hand brushed slowly down her cheek.

"That's not—you're a good pers—"

Shaking her head in protest, Lee-jin couldn't finish the sentence—because the hand that had been caressing her cheek had begun to trace her lips.

She could feel it, unmistakably: desire in that touch.

"Oppa…"

Barely managing a thread of a voice, she called out to him—most likely an unconscious plea to stop this strange new behavior.

But somehow the atmosphere only sank deeper, grew more delicate, and with no chance to bar the way, their lips met.

She hadn't imagined he would kiss her, and the shock of it scrambled her thoughts—more than that, the way he pressed in, as if to melt her mouth open, was nothing ordinary.

Startled by the dense, unhurried heat of it, Lee-jin trembled and tried to recoil. But her back hit the wall, and there was nowhere left to retreat—which only drove the kiss deeper.

Kang-hyun savored her lips, sucking slow and thorough, playing with them until at last he drew back and said:

"See that? Any guy who plots and waits for a chance to pounce is never going to be a good guy."