Homecoming

At Incheon Airport, the flight from New York had landed, and the doors to the arrivals hall swung open.

Do-heon stepped through amid the stream of passengers pushing their carriers. After a full year away, the look in his eyes as he returned to Korea was utterly calm.

“Oppa! Over here! Here!”

So-hyun, who had been waiting for him for a full hour, waved and cheered as if she were an overzealous fan greeting a celebrity. She made such a racket that every gaze in the hall naturally swung toward Do-heon.

Tall, solidly built, a cool aura radiating from those cold eyes—a gaze that somehow seized attention and refused to let go. People who had only turned their heads because of So-hyun found themselves caught on him instead. Even the way he wore a suit was anything but ordinary; his physique held its own among the burly foreigners around him. Whispers of “model?” and “actor?” flew back and forth over his uncommon looks.

“Miss So-hyun is here, sir.”

Hansu, who had recognized her at once, murmured the tip, but Do-heon kept walking straight ahead.

“How long to the office?”

“Right now?”

Hansu, who had already made drinking plans with friends on the assumption that today would be a day off, looked more than a little flustered. Isn’t he exhausted?

Throughout the entire flight from New York to Incheon, Do-heon had worked on his tablet except during meal service. Because of that, Hansu had never managed a proper rest; he arrived in that half-asleep, half-awake daze that was neither sleep nor wakefulness. Do-heon had told him to sleep comfortably, but what secretary could? He had dozed off several times only to snap awake again, and every single time Do-heon was still studying the tablet without the slightest sign of fatigue. After thirteen hours in the air, wanting to head straight to the company the moment they touched Korean soil was enough to drive a man insane. And at eight o’clock at night, no less.

Hansu’s chest tightened with the ominous premonition that work intensity back in Korea was about to become brutal.

“Why? Do you have plans?”

The sudden question made Hansu’s eyes go round.

“N-no…?”

Those large eyes of his, utterly incapable of lying, wavered helplessly.

“I was far too thoughtless. Going on about the office the second we land—and at eight p.m. at that.”

“Ah, no. Plans? What plans?”

When Do-heon let that characteristic sly smile curve his mouth, Hansu felt as if every private thought had been laid bare and wanted to sink through the floor from sheer embarrassment.

“Just go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Go home? My work ends only when the division head’s work ends. I’ll take you straight to the company.”

Snapping fully awake, Hansu escorted him with a face suddenly blazing with professional duty.

“Can you make it in an hour?”

“Yes? Yes. I-it can.”

Already cowed by the look that seemed to demand the impossible become possible, Hansu answered first and thought later. He had assisted the man for three years, yet Do-heon had never been an easy person. Everyone who knew him said the same thing: the mere fact of his appearance radiated a powerful presence that overwhelmed people and kept them permanently on edge. Hansu had no argument with that assessment—not when he himself still occasionally flinched just looking at him. That said, Do-heon was not the type to grind subordinates down for no reason. He made a point of protecting quitting time, and if work ever ran late he always provided proper compensation.

“Oppa! Oppa!”

So-hyun, fretting because Do-heon had simply walked past her, hurried after him.

“You’ve arrived, miss?”

Hansu offered a greeting, but So-hyun swept past him as if he did not exist.

“Oppa! Didn’t you see me? How many times did I call you!”

She had done her hair first thing that morning and even put on a brand-new dress; the disappointment in her voice was sharp.

“I need to stop by the office.”

Do-heon gently pushed away the arm she tried to link through his.

“What time is it that you’re going to the office?”

Rejected, her pride stung; she snapped, but Do-heon did not appear to hear a word.

“Oppa! Did you forget today’s Mom’s birthday?”

That was the moment the steps that had seemed unstoppable finally halted.

Mother’s birthday.

He had remembered it perfectly until the moment of departure from New York. He had even bought a brooch at the duty-free shop—then, while reviewing documents on the plane, a question had caught his attention and the whole thing had slipped his mind.

Do-heon checked his watch with a troubled expression. There were papers he absolutely needed to see at the office, yet if he stopped by first and only then went home it would be far too late.

While he hesitated, his phone rang. It was his father, Jeong Cheol.

Hearing Jeong Cheol’s voice through the receiver, it was not only So-hyun whose mouth curved upward. Hansu’s cheekbones were climbing as well; he had been on the verge of texting his friend with tears in his eyes to postpone the drinking plans.

The moment Do-heon stepped through the front door, Ho-yeon came running barefoot and flung her arms wide.

“Son!”

Do-heon gathered the warmly welcoming Ho-yeon into his arms.

“Anyone watching would think you two hadn’t seen each other in years.”

Jeong Cheol, standing behind them, laughed heartily at the affectionate mother and son reunited after a full year.

“Didn’t you know? To me one year felt like ten. Let me look at you, my boy.”

Ho-yeon scanned his face and body with anxious eyes, fretting that he might have lost weight in the meantime.

“Mom, Oppa’s hungry.”

So-hyun, who found it galling that Do-heon was sharing such an intense hug with their mother after rejecting her at the airport, grumbled in a voice thick with irritation.

“All right, let’s go inside. You must be starving.”

Ho-yeon took Do-heon’s hand and led him in.

The dining room held a full banquet. Even though today was her own birthday, every dish on the table was something Do-heon loved. Kimchi stew, boiled pork slices, fresh Vietnamese spring rolls, seafood stew, beef hot pot—foods that ought to have been main courses sat there like side dishes.

“Why so much? Your wrists aren’t even good.”

Do-heon looked at Ho-yeon with open concern.

“Your mother went to the market I don’t know how many times because you were coming. She made every single thing herself. She even made sikhye—the sweet rice drink she never bothers with on my birthday. It’s a feast, a real feast!”

“Come on, eat.”

Jeong Cheol spoke with a voice that carried a hint of jealousy, yet Ho-yeon only kept pushing side dishes toward Do-heon.

“That’s why Dad should treat her better on ordinary days.”

“Is the conversation going that way again?”

Blocked by So-hyun’s scolding, Jeong Cheol could only laugh helplessly.

Do-heon could not remember the last time he had eaten proper Korean food. The moment he stepped into the house, fatigue had crashed over him and he had no appetite at all, yet he tasted every single dish prepared with Ho-yeon’s full heart. Each time he reached for something new, a smile bloomed on her lips. Watching him eat without a single complaint filled her chest to overflowing. It was the moment she truly understood the old saying that a parent’s stomach is full just from watching a child eat.

“Shall we have the cake Oppa brought now? Earlier when Mom blew out the candles I nearly died holding myself back.”

After dinner, while they were drinking tea in the living room, So-hyun headed toward the dining room with an excited face.

“Do you like it?”

Do-heon asked Ho-yeon, who kept fingering the brooch he had given her as a birthday gift.

“Of course I like it. It’s beautiful. I’ll wear it to the gathering tomorrow.”

“I’m glad. I was worried you might not.”

“It’s from my son—how could I not? Your mother loves everything you give her.”

Jeong Cheol said, sipping the well-steeped tangerine-peel tea that had turned a rich gold.

“Your eye really is something else—just like your father’s. How do you always pick exactly what steals my heart? Like father, like son.”

Pleased by the unexpected praise, Jeong Cheol’s mouth curved upward of its own accord.

“Our son will be thoroughly loved by his wife once he marries. Oh, and speaking of that—how about this weekend? They said they’d like to meet this week.”

Ho-yeon brought up the matchmaking talk as naturally as breathing. It had come out barely after he arrived home, yet Do-heon already knew and showed no particular resistance.

“Oppa, you’re going on a matchmaking date?”

So-hyun’s voice, carrying the cake, rang out sharp and high.

“Of course I am. Next year I’ll be thirty-three.”

Seeing the plate tremble in So-hyun’s hands, Jeong Cheol spoke firmly.

“Why do you keep pushing someone who doesn’t want to get married? What if you force it like last time and he breaks off another engagement?”

“So-hyun!”

“Can’t we just keep living like this, just us?”

“Have you ever seen the men in our family marry after thirty-three? It’s Grandfather’s special order. And you’re not losing Oppa. Marriage doesn’t change anything. Do you really think Do-heon would stop looking after you? When he marries you’ll gain a new sister-in-law—and a nephew too.”

“I hate it! I hate other people becoming part of our family!”

Jeong Cheol tried to soothe her as if there were nothing to worry about, but So-hyun could not calm down.

At some point So-hyun had begun to cling to Do-heon. No—she depended on him completely. After suffering severe depression from being bullied during her school years, the obsession had only grown worse. The only people she trusted were family. For years she had never gone outside, remaining shut inside the house under their care. Treatment had improved her a great deal, yet she still shrank from meeting people. She feared every situation that required forming relationships. At the main family’s ancestral rites or weddings—places the family absolutely had to attend—Do-heon had always stayed by her side and looked after her carefully, so she managed. The thought that this same Do-heon might marry was unbearable; that was why she became so sensitive whenever marriage was mentioned. Jeong Cheol and Ho-yeon both believed that. Do-heon’s own thoughts were no different.

But he had learned a month earlier that her feelings were not what they assumed.

“Understood. Let me know once the place and time are decided.”

Do-heon spoke while looking steadily into So-hyun’s two anxiously trembling eyes.