Crazy Woman

"Jeong Yeon-jae."

The insistent voice made Yeon-jae press her fingers to her forehead. Her lips trembled, then slowly parted, and a deep sigh slipped out between them.

"Really... why are you doing this?"

Her voice shook as she asked him.

"It's not as if you have time to spare, Representative Gu Je-heon."

He was a man so busy he barely had time to blink—someone she'd only ever seen at the residence.

"It might not seem like much to you, Representative, but this is my workplace. Why are you putting me in such an awkward position?"

"I never did that."

She was about to ask what else you'd call this if not making things difficult, when he cut in.

"I never thought it was nothing."

Je-heon stepped closer, his gaze resolute.

"And I found it pretty inconvenient myself."

The nearer he came, the deeper his voice sank into her ear.

"I don't even know why I had to come all the way out here."

"..."

"Like you said—buying coffee beans I don't even drink. Do I really have to go this far?"

He closed the remaining distance in a few long, unhurried strides and stopped directly in front of her. In an instant, her path was blocked.

"Why didn't you pick up the phone?"

The moment his gaze locked onto hers, every nerve in her body snapped awake. His stare was so relentlessly straight it seemed to demand an answer, as if he'd left a phone in her care and she had no right to ignore it. The shamelessness of it was almost impressive.

"I did reply. I sent a message packed full of my refusal."

She had definitely sent a text instead of taking the call. And she'd been fidgeting with her phone all morning, wondering if a reply would come.

"You didn't see the message? I definitely sent it. Look, right here..."

Yeon-jae unlocked her phone, about to show him the message window.

"I didn't look."

"What?"

Thinking she must have misheard, she lifted her gaze—and found his pitch-black eyes staring straight into hers.

"That's a little too cold between us, don't you think?"

Yeon-jae's lips parted and trembled. Those were not words she had ever expected to hear from Je-heon's mouth. She stared up at him, her face a picture of disbelief.

Helpfully enough, Je-heon opened the passenger-side door of the car parked beside them for her.

"You said this is your workplace. If you're fine talking here, we can keep going."

Then he pointed behind her.

When she turned, the manager and every remaining customer in the café were staring at the two of them.

The inside of the car was more than quiet—it was silent. The only sounds were the white noise filtering in from outside and the navigation system's calm directions. Yeon-jae glanced at the GPS. She'd thought he was just giving her a ride so they could talk, but the destination was set to an address in Daejeon. They seemed to be heading somewhere nearby. He was probably taking her to discuss the foundation contract. No matter how much she refused, once Je-heon had made up his mind, there was no escaping the conversation—just as she'd been forced to leave the café early.

Her mood sinking for no particular reason, Yeon-jae looked down and checked her phone. Twenty minutes had already passed. The café shift had ended early, but she still had a class at the academy. She couldn't go far.

"I can't go far. I have to go to work somewhere else. There's a large café nearby. Let's go there."

She reached to change the navigation.

"Don't. We're going to eat."

Je-heon pushed her hand away from the GPS. It was only a light touch, there and gone, but Yeon-jae flinched—enough for him to feel it. The hand she'd snatched back hovered near her chest.

"And you've still got time before your academy class."

The fact that Je-heon knew her subsequent schedule didn't even register.

"What's wrong?"

Sensing the silence, Je-heon glanced over from the road. He seemed to have noticed her frozen in that odd posture. A strange feeling washed over her belatedly, and she quickly lowered her hand.

"I don't need a meal."

"I already made a reservation."

"If you keep going straight, there's a large café. Please take me there."

Yeon-jae refused firmly. The mere thought of sitting across from him at a meal made her chest seize up.

"...I'd just get indigestion."

After giving birth, other people talked about dieting. Yeon-jae's weight had plummeted instead—she weighed even less than she had before the pregnancy. Raising a child alone, plus all the thankless work that came with it, there hadn't been any room to put on weight. The stomach that had shrunk back then still hadn't recovered, even after five years. She couldn't eat much as it was, and Je-heon had surely reserved some expensive restaurant. If she left food uneaten, she'd have to sit there watching his face for a reaction. That much was obvious. She didn't want to create that kind of uncomfortable situation—which was why she'd given that answer.

Je-heon was silent for a long while, as if dissatisfied with her stubbornness. After a lengthy pause, his lips finally moved.

"Jeong Yeon-jae. Do you hate me?"

The unexpected question made her freeze. She hesitated for only a moment. Then, without any deep thought, she answered immediately.

"Yes."

"For someone who hates me, you sure know how I take my coffee..."

A quiet scoff from beside her made Yeon-jae's head turn of its own accord.

"What?"

"..."

"If you hate someone, shouldn't you forget them?"

The question, asked so matter-of-factly, left her mouth dry in an instant. There were things you wanted to forget but couldn't. Even her memories of Myeong-hee, who'd made her life so hard, were still vivid—so how could her memories of the Je-heon she'd loved possibly fade? The years she'd spent loving him were far longer than the time since she'd left Seoul.

Part of her wanted to tell him honestly. That she'd first learned his coffee preferences when they were dating, and that of course she resented him now—he'd abandoned her. But if she said that, all she'd get in return was being treated like a crazy woman. That much was certain. Her trembling lips slowly parted.

"You know why."

The words that rose to her throat—Did you and I have a good ending?—she swallowed them down. Yeon-jae had been honest to the end. She'd told him they had been lovers, that it was a misunderstanding—but Je-heon was the one who hadn't believed her.

At a red light, Je-heon's gaze, which had been fixed on the road, turned toward her. The eyes of the man watching her were opaque. He stared at her with a gaze so clouded she couldn't begin to guess what he was thinking.

"Because of what happened five years ago?"

He asked in a calm voice. It was a simple, straightforward question, but it sent a massive ripple through Yeon-jae. She hadn't expected him to be the one to bring up what happened five years ago. He was the one who needed the contract, and bringing up that day was no different from scraping at her wounds.

Yeon-jae lifted the head she'd been hanging. Surely he wasn't talking about that.

Their gazes locked, holding steady. It hadn't been a slip of the tongue. Je-heon's eyes were grave.

"You're still holding onto that? It's been five years."

"..."

"Ah, so that's why you fought the foundation contract so hard? Because of that."

The more his speculation piled up, the more rigidly Yeon-jae's body locked. She didn't want to hear another word of him dismissing something that had tormented her all this time as nothing more than the past.

"I don't want to talk about that anymore."

"Don't we have to talk about it to work it out? I came prepared to meet whatever conditions you name."

At the man's casually continuing reply, Yeon-jae's eyes snapped open, sharp.

"I'm getting out. Please stop the car."

Saying so, she put her hand on the door handle. The moment he stopped, she intended to get out immediately. Je-heon glanced at her, and his face twisted.

"Are you insane?"

In an instant his right hand shot out and seized her wrist. The heat spreading from that grip made Yeon-jae flinch.

"We're driving right now."

He was scolding her, but her gaze stayed fixed on the hand gripping hers. Her heart beat unsteadily. This was different from the brief brush of their hands earlier. It was as if an old sensation she'd spent years forgetting had come back to life—every nerve in her body rushed to her arm.

Yeon-jae tried to pull her captured wrist free. But the more she struggled, the tighter he gripped. She whipped her head up.

"Cut it out. Can't you see the car's moving?"

"..."

"Why have you changed like this? Why are you being so reckless?"

Looking up, she found Je-heon's face twisted into something fierce. Just thinking about that incident made Yeon-jae's entire body tremble—but Je-heon was different. What annoyed him was simply Yeon-jae being so stubborn right now.

She'd planned to get out once the car had fully stopped. No matter how shaken she was, she still had that much sense. But looking at the man in front of her, there didn't seem to be any need to explain herself.

"Yes. I can't see a thing. So please stop the car."

It was the same with the contract. When she'd first gotten into his car, she'd intended to refuse him properly. She'd thought that refusing by message instead of a phone call might have been rude. But there was no longer any reason to bother.

Perhaps catching the sarcasm in her tone, the smooth bridge of Je-heon's nose wrinkled. It was a habit that only appeared when something displeased him. It was almost funny that she was thinking about that even in this situation.

"I'm getting out, so this hand—"

Let go, she was about to say, but she didn't finish. The speed dropped in an instant, and then Je-heon's car came to a complete stop on the shoulder.

Je-heon got out of the car before Yeon-jae did. In a flash he came around to the passenger side and yanked the door open.

"You're right—you don't seem to be in your right mind. Get out."

Je-heon raised a hand, and a taxi pulled over. Then he shoved Yeon-jae, who'd gotten out of the car, into the back seat.

And with those quiet words, like a warning, he shut the door.