It Doesn't Make Sense

The iron door shut, and darkness settled over the room. Yeon-jae dragged her feet, heavy as lead, deeper into the apartment. Even crossing her tiny studio felt like wading through thick mud.

She dumped her handbag onto the sofa as if discarding it, then sank down and let herself slump sideways. Buried in the fabric that wrapped around her back, she closed her eyes, then opened them again.

A white object came into view through the fallen bag. Inside the brightly gleaming pharmacy sack were nutritional supplements of every kind.

"It's a shame you're moving. Please continue your care there, and I hope you have a safe delivery."

It was the hospital she had so painstakingly found, thinking she might give the child up. After the appointment, Yeon-jae had come home with nothing but an armful of supplements.

A threadbare scrap of reason had urged her to let the child go, but once she heard that heartbeat, she couldn't. The pulsing sound had filled the examination room so completely it seemed to shout that the child was alive — right here. That heavy, lingering presence had left her no choice but to come home.

Yeon-jae looked at the supplement bottle in her palm, then rose from her seat. She found the switch and pressed it, and light flooded the space.

She took in the officetel, barely three hundred and fifty square feet, piece by piece. Unlike the spare interior that held only a bed and a large desk, one wall was lined with built-in shelves. The moment her eyes fell on the scores packed densely into those shelves, the tears that had been trembling at the brink spilled over.

If there was anything most important in her life, it was, without question, Je-heon and the piano. All this time, the thought that Je-heon had fallen into a coma on his way to her recital had made it nearly impossible to play. But now, even without the guilt, it was becoming unbearable.

Was there a single thing she ate, lived in, or wore that Gu-il's hands hadn't touched? Her entire life was stained with traces of the Gu-il Foundation and of Je-heon.

Yeon-jae lowered her hands and wrapped them around her belly. She had no confidence she could stay in this place and forget that man. And as long as she refused to give up the child, she couldn't remain with the Foundation either.

She had always believed there would be an end someday — but not an ending like this. Yeon-jae's shoulders shook without cease.

The cool silk of a dress shirt wrapped snugly around his wrist. Je-heon was fastening a cufflink when he stopped and lifted his head.

"Who's here?"

His gaze met that of the man approaching beyond the large full-length mirror. The distinctly uncomfortable-looking man was Oh Seong-jae, the executive secretary who attended him.

"Well, it's..."

"It's me, son."

Oh Seong-jae hadn't even finished speaking. The click of heels echoed through the vast space, then stopped directly behind him. His gaze shifted naturally — and there was Myeong-hee.

As she approached, the shop staff who had been adjusting his clothes at his side stepped back one by one.

"So that's the engagement ceremony attire? Not bad. Where's the jacket?"

Myeong-hee asked as she sat on the sofa, and the tailor shop staff standing nearby hurried over in a cluster. They brought over a rack hung with suit jackets and spread out brochure booklets. Everyone was bustling about.

"What did you come here for."

The question, tossed out as bluntly as his sunken voice, brought every movement around them to a halt. Eyes shifted naturally from Myeong-hee to Je-heon. Je-heon was indifferent to the changed atmosphere. He simply finished fastening his cufflink.

The silence stretched until it became awkward.

"You're a busy man."

Je-heon lifted his gaze, and it met Myeong-hee's in the mirror.

"What's being busy got to do with it? My son is looking at formalwear. How am I supposed to sit still when I'm curious?"

The straight line of Myeong-hee's mouth loosened.

"This is the kind of thing a woman is supposed to look over, anyway."

Myeong-hee nodded toward the staff. The employee holding a jacket hurried over and draped it over his shoulders.

"The fit's not bad."

As the employee fastened the jacket, Myeong-hee rose from her seat and approached him.

"Do you have any idea how important this engagement is? You know the Chairman is looking forward to it."

Her hands seemed to be smoothing his jacket lapel as she murmured low.

"They say Yo-eun is a blessing to you. The compatibility is perfect without even needing to check. Matches like this are hard to come by — the two of you are fate."

She wore a thoroughly satisfied smile.

"Where would you find a woman who waits for a fiancé in a coma? She's loyal, she's beautiful, and on top of that her family is perfect."

"......"

"She's a lovely daughter-in-law. I like Yo-eun just as she is, Je-heon."

As Myeong-hee's hands pressed more firmly into the jacket, Je-heon's brow furrowed slightly. Their gazes locked in the air between them. After a silence, his lips twitched, about to part.

"Oh my, Director! I was so surprised to hear you'd come all the way to the shop."

At the presence she felt behind her, Myeong-hee released the fabric she'd been holding. The gaze locked with his broke as she turned.

"Manager Jin-mi. It's been a while."

Myeong-hee tipped her head at the warm greeting from the manager in charge of his formalwear.

"Did you come because the CEO is having a fitting? Aigoo, Director Pyo's love for her son really puts the rest of us to shame."

"It's an important event. You'll take extra care, won't you?"

"Of course. The Gu-il family and our shop go back such a long way."

Manager Jin-mi, who had drawn near, seemed to look back and forth between Myeong-hee and Je-heon.

"I was wondering where the CEO got these magnificent genes — it was you, Director!"

Then she clapped her hands in delight.

"That's enough. Alike, my foot."

"You do look alike. The CEO inherited your charisma exactly. The eyes especially — they're so similar."

Myeong-hee waved a hand at the manager's chatter, laced with flattery.

"That's right. The two of you really do look alike."

At the staff's praise, passed along like a relay, the corners of Myeong-hee's mouth slowly dropped. Her lips twitched as if she were about to say something — and in that instant:

A short, scoffing laugh rang through the room. The gazes that had been fixed on Myeong-hee shifted — toward Je-heon, standing before the mirror.

Having straightened his clothes, Je-heon turned. His gaze passed over the blinking staff and settled, steadily, on Myeong-hee.

"If it were my late father, maybe."

Myeong-hee's opaque brown eyes stared at Je-heon.

"Ah, the Vice Chairman! Now that you mention it, I can see the Vice Chairman's face in you too. He was famous, you know — looked just like an actor."

The brief silence was broken by the manager's admiration. Then remarks that he looked exactly like the late Vice Chairman burst out here and there.

As the topic shifted to his father, Vice Chairman Gu Hyeong-uk, the corner of Je-heon's mouth lifted faintly.

"He was exceptionally handsome, after all."

Je-heon deflected Myeong-hee's piercing stare. Then he rolled back his jacket sleeve and checked his watch.

"I think the fitting is sufficient. I have a schedule, so I'll need to go."

At Je-heon's words announcing the end of the fitting, the staff began tidying up around them. The only one who remained sitting motionless in her seat was Myeong-hee.

"Director, since you're here, would you like to have a cup of tea downstairs? It's been so long since you visited."

Sensing the shift in the air around them, the manager at her side linked her arm through Myeong-hee's.

"We have delicious desserts. Come down and catch us up on how you've been."

Manager Jin-mi led Myeong-hee away. The door to the fitting room closed, and Myeong-hee vanished completely from view. With a word that he could change now, the staff withdrew as well.

Je-heon yanked his tie loose in one motion. As whatever had been choking his throat came undone, he could finally breathe.

"Shall I bring you something to drink? You don't look well."

Oh Seong-jae, who had been standing by, approached and asked. Looking at the man watching him with concern, Je-heon waved a hand.

"I'm fine."

Je-heon answered dryly and held out the suit jacket he'd removed along with the tie. Then he shrugged off the vest and raised his wrist. And just as he began undoing the buttons fastened at his wrist, a woman's face suddenly superimposed itself over his vision.

At Yeon-jae's face, drawn as naturally as water flowing, Je-heon's hands stopped dead.

There was no way those absurd, forced claims that woman had made could be real. There was no way.

He squinted one eye against a headache that surged without warning. Again. The moment he recalled the past, pain throbbed at his temple.

"Pardon? What did you say?"

At the words that had come out of nowhere, the secretary blinked and asked again. Watching the secretary approach, Je-heon shook his head instead of answering. He seemed to catch his breath, then looked up at the secretary and asked.

"Seong-jae. Where is my home?"

"It's in Samsung-dong, sir..."

Oh Seong-jae's words cut off, and his eyes trembled minutely.

"Do you... not remember? Shall I call the doctor?"

Oh Seong-jae hurriedly rummaged through his inner jacket pocket. At the sight of him pulling out his phone as if about to call immediately, Je-heon's eyebrow lifted.

"Don't. Besides that?"

"Sir? Do you mean the Gu-il Mansion in Cheongdam-dong?"

Je-heon looked steadily at Oh Seong-jae, who was blinking back at him. Then his smooth mouth twisted, and a hollow smile slipped out. Je-heon rubbed his furrowed brow.

"Right. This is the normal reaction."

Officially, Je-heon's residence was the Samsung-dong apartment. And if there was anywhere else, it was the Cheongdam-dong mansion where his mother lived. This was the natural response.

A residence that even Oh Seong-jae, Je-heon's own man, didn't know about. A place even Myeong-hee didn't know.

"That's enough. I'll finish changing and come out. Wait outside."

At Je-heon's dismissal, the secretary tilted his head, then left the dressing room. As the door closed, a crushing silence filled the space.

And yet no one knew. No — it was a space of his own, created with the express purpose that no one would know. And yet Jeong Yeon-jae knew about that place.

"How?"

The question scattered into the air as it was. He seemed to touch his mouth, then turned his gaze to the side table. As if possessed, he picked up his phone — then set it back down.

Je-heon dragged a hand down his drawn face. Once something started to bother him, it never ended.

"This is insane."

Nothing but madness could explain it.