Is This Some Kind of Revenge?

"Is this supposed to be revenge?"

Looking at Gang-ho's outfit, Mu-young had to swallow a laugh. Her conscience did prickle a little at denying it. Hyun-sik was the only man in the house, so her uncle had brought over clothes he didn't wear himself and told Gang-ho to make do with them — but they were far too short and hopelessly out of fashion, so much so that she could barely look at him straight.

He was a man who wore impeccably tailored suits every single day, so of course the adjustment wasn't easy. Change a man's clothes, and his whole image shifted — that much was undeniable.

Pajama pants that stopped short of his ankles and a youth soccer club T-shirt that stretched across his chest, the printed soccer ball strained to the point of tearing, stole her gaze against her will. Seeing it, she realized all over again just how much clothes really do make the man.

"Revenge seems beneath you, sir."

Gang-ho, apparently the type who couldn't care less about such things, simply kept using the situation for the sole purpose of getting under her skin. The power balance was supposed to reverse, yet every time she felt herself slipping right at the threshold. There was no reason she absolutely had to beat this man, but neither did she want to be seen meekly taking whatever he dished out.

"And is there nothing the Honorable Congressman fears?"

"What would I have to be afraid of?"

In an instant, Gang-ho closed the distance between them. He was close — and the bed was right behind her. The opposite direction from last time.

So Mu-young held her ground. She had no intention of stepping back and tumbling onto the bed with him. When she met his eyes, he stared right back, fully committing to the standoff. A silence thick enough to change the density of the air settled over the room, and then his hand moved toward her forehead this time. As he brushed aside a single stray lock of hair, the graze of his fingertips sent a sharp jolt through the tips of her ears.

"Doesn't it hurt your eyes, glaring like that?"

"This is factory default."

Mu-young dropped her gaze and answered as if in passing.

"Ah."

So that's how it is, Gang-ho seemed to say, and peeled away from her, moving toward the bedding.

He had grandly declared they would sleep in the bed together, but realistically it was impossible. The single bed she used looked too narrow for Gang-ho to lie down in alone.

He was likely the tallest of all the current members of the National Assembly. Plenty of lawmakers' offices padded their profiles by a few centimeters, but Gang-ho seemed to have written his down honestly. And those broad shoulders didn't look like the product of a day or two of exercise. The fact that he was the National Assembly gym's most frequent customer was already common knowledge — the rumor had long since spread.

Mu-young agreed that surviving his punishing schedule required serious stamina. But did he really need to be built like a professional athlete? It wasn't as if voters cast their ballots based on muscle mass.

"Done admiring the view? Let's get some sleep."

At his words, Mu-young quickly looked away. As if he had eyes in the back of his head, he was reading her every move even while spreading out the bedding. The man was genuinely terrifying.

"So, how's the view? To your liking?"

When that confident voice followed her, Mu-young climbed onto the bed without a word. She only had to endure a few more minutes until he fell asleep, she told herself, and resolved to simply ignore him.

"Changed tactics to the silent treatment, have you?"

"Excuse me, Congressman."

Feeling she had to say something, Mu-young looked down at Gang-ho.

"You make a living off being insufferable, so I suppose I'll just have to accept it."

He delivered the line like a confession of sin and laid his head on the pillow. Mu-young found herself on the verge of anger, yet somehow, by the end, a strange feeling close to pity crept in instead.

Right. It had been like that back then, too. That was what had cut through her heart and left a wound that could never be erased. The painful past kept resurrecting itself, making her chest throb.

"It's small, this room. No getting around it."

Lying on the floor, Gang-ho muttered to himself as if taking measurements. A man who knew nothing. An ignoramus. A fool. Hah… Irritation flared up all at once, and her eyes grew hot. Trying to soothe herself, she answered curtly.

"There's no problem sleeping or living here."

That much was true. She'd never been the type to be attached to a house, and she had no desire to live buried in material things.

"I was thinking the newlywed home could be my villa. It's about ten times the size of this place, give or take. Think you can adjust?"

At his next words, her clenched fist tightened. He wasn't even teasing properly. She had no idea how she was supposed to react in front of such an insufferable snob, and it made her chest feel tight.

"If I have to live somewhere, I live there."

"Good mindset. I like it."

"Thank you for the compliment."

"I mean it, sincerely. My expectations for you are high."

Expectations, of all things. She supposed there were a hundred different ways to toy with a person.

"In any case — we're on the same team now, aren't we?"

Marriage wasn't some committee operation. At the man's solemn resolve that they should pool their strength, help each other reach their individual goals, and come out ahead, Mu-young could only laugh in disbelief.

"So marriage is just another job. How lovely."

Her boss assigning her endless work at the office, her husband assigning her endless work at home — just imagining it made her head ache already.

"Weren't you the one who enjoyed work?"

Gang-ho asked as if genuinely puzzled.

"You're not saying this to the Chief Aide too, are you? Please tell me you have at least that much self-awareness."

When Mu-young countered in dead earnest, Gang-ho drew his own conclusion.

"Representative Min must work you to the bone, I take it."

"I don't answer questions of a private nature about my employer."

"Impenetrable. Frankly, it's attractive."

Neither willing to concede a single line, they traded barbs until an hour had slipped by without either noticing. Mu-young finally turned her head pointedly away from him, shutting down the conversation altogether.

"Go to sleep. Don't you have an early start?"

"Already sleeping."

At Gang-ho's playfully glib retort — infuriating as it was — Mu-young caught herself letting out a soft, comfortable laugh.

Back then, whenever she bristled and sharpened her edges, he would scold her — you worry too much, you think too much — and then, with the most unguarded lightness he possessed, he would make her laugh. Having that Gang-ho back at her side again, Mu-young kept drifting into memories of the past.

It was all pointless longing, of course. She knew that was the truth of it, and still she kept turning to look back.

While she sank deep into thought, a low snore drifted up from the floor. A hollow laugh burst out of her. Was nothing uncomfortable for this man? She almost envied his adaptability, falling asleep faster than the homeowner in a place so foreign to him.

Mu-young closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn't come easily. In the end, she tossed and turned, then rolled her body over toward him once more. Looking down at Gang-ho sprawled out fast asleep, she felt something strange stir in her chest.

Was she really going to marry this man? Should she call the whole thing off right now and be done with it? The promise she'd made with Chairman Baek Hee-sang hadn't been forced on her.

And yet she couldn't deny it either. This felt like an opportunity. The lingering hope that she could turn back the clock on their past. The temptation of redemption — the promise of finally shedding her guilt. That, surely, was what she was truly feeling.

Mu-young shifted once more, then rolled onto her back. She needed to sleep if she was going to face tomorrow. She chanted to herself like a hypnotic spell — sleep, sleep — but through it all, that night, she could not easily drift off.

Gang-ho rose quietly and looked down at the sleeping woman in the bed. Her shoulders rose and fell in the faintest rhythm — she did seem to be asleep, at last. Killing every sound as best he could, he tidied the bedding and slipped out of the room on tiptoe. When he came back from the bathroom after changing his clothes, the kitchen table caught his eye. As he approached, he saw a note and food waiting — a sandwich wrapped in plastic film.

Reading the tidy handwriting, the corner of Gang-ho's mouth curled upward. This family, it seemed, had hearts far too big for their own good. Wedding prospect or not, they'd taken in a man they'd barely met a handful of times and even put him up for the night. He lifted his head toward the direction of Mu-young's room.

He had pretended to be asleep the entire time, but Gang-ho hadn't slept a wink. His nerves had sharpened until he was acutely conscious of every inch of the bed beneath him. The woman was no better — she'd tossed and turned all night, and only in the small hours did she finally go still. They were both in the same awkward bind, no doubt about it. Having to drag a marriage neither of them wanted forward as a team was irony of the purest kind.

He picked up the sandwich and stepped outside the building. The first and second floors were separate units, so mercifully, the aunt and uncle hadn't seen him leave. Climbing into the car he'd parked near the fried chicken shop, Gang-ho ran through the day's schedule — and was just raising the sandwich in his hand for a bite when his phone rang. It was Chief Secretary Park Se-hyun.

Which meant, in other words, that old man Baek was summoning him. So it had come at last. Gang-ho dropped the sandwich onto the passenger seat and turned the ignition. Some premonition told him this day was going to be a long one.