Waking After Three Days
Do-heon found the sight of Han-su standing there with the face of a man condemned for high treason rather amusing.
"So what do you plan to do now? As the Director said, my responsibility is great, so I'll burn this body of mine to the ground and do my utmost to resolve the situation."
"Let's see how this one recovers first, then decide."
"Ah—yes. Understood."
Han-su nodded vigorously, as if only now remembering something important.
"Go on."
"Pardon?"
"I said go home."
"Go home? There are still two hours left. I'll leave when the time comes."
Overtime he could understand—but in more than three years as Do-heon's secretary, Han-su had never once been told to leave early. The suggestion felt so strange and unsettling that he stubbornly remained where he stood.
"What are you planning to do with me?"
"Pardon?"
"Why won't you leave?"
Do-heon found it odd that this secretary refused to go even when he was practically shoving him out the door.
"I'm not a freeloader, you know."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"A salary… thief."
"And so? Shall we get some work done, then?"
Do-heon stretched out an arm and gripped the handle of his briefcase, looking for all the world as if he truly meant to start working. At that,
"I'll be out on a field assignment!"
Han-su bowed hastily and strode straight out the door, deciding a convenience store run would do just fine.
"Haa."
Long after the secretary had gone, Do-heon remained seated. At last he scrubbed his face dry with both hands and rose.
Three days of this, and fatigue had settled deep into his body; everything felt heavy and dull.
He could have left Hye-won to a professional caregiver, but he could not bring himself to abandon a woman who had lived on the edge of a cliff to the gaze of strangers. He did not want her to feel left alone.
The day he had coldly sent away the matchmaking candidate named Hye-won, the guilt of having driven a girl whose family was worse than none at all to the absolute brink still weighed heavily on him.
It felt as if everything that had happened to her was his fault.
"Crying again."
Tears slipped from beneath Hye-won's closed lids. Do-heon had been about to move toward the window, but he stopped and quietly approached her instead.
He wiped away the tears that traced the delicate corners of her eyes, as if soothing them.
Even unconscious, she wept from time to time.
"What on earth happened to you all this time?"
You're only twenty…
Do-heon brushed the sweat-damp strands of hair that clung to her temple back behind her ear.
She still had soft baby down on her cheeks—so childlike—and the thought that she had not only endured her family's abuse but had nearly been forced into marriage made rage surge up so fiercely he could barely contain it.
How hard must it have been to endure that hell alone? How desperate must she have been to stake her entire life on asking him—someone she had not contacted in years—to marry her?
He forced down the anger that kept rising and gently took her pale hand in his.
"…nim!"
Hye-won, who had been desperately calling for someone even while flailing at empty air, snapped her eyes open.
Her face was a mess of sweat and tears from how hard she had cried in her sleep.
It was a dream.
She had seen Do-heon in the dream. In darkness so thick she could not see an inch ahead, standing at the edge of a cliff, he had reached out his hand to her.
The warmth of his touch and the sound of his voice had been so vivid that her heart still seemed to pound.
Even inside the dream she had told herself he could never have come, that it had to be a dream—and of course it had been.
She managed to calm her racing chest and turned her head. Her gaze stopped on a high ceiling.
A magnificent chandelier that belonged in a palace glittered like jewels.
Where am I?
The moment she realized that every light and piece of furniture her eyes touched was unfamiliar, Hye-won started in surprise and tried to sit up.
"Ah—"
Her head throbbed as if it would split, and pain shot through her legs so sharply she could not move.
An IV line was taped into one of her battered arms.
Why am I here?
She was still reeling in confusion when a man in a neat suit approached.
"Are you all right?"
"Who are you?"
Hye-won eyed the stranger warily, but Han-su clasped both hands together as if overcome with emotion and offered a prayer toward the ceiling.
"Thank you, God! Thank you for letting her wake up!"
Finished with his prayer, Han-su flung both arms high, unable to contain his joy.
He had told Do-heon not to worry, that Hye-won would wake soon—but once three days had passed, he had grown just as anxious as anyone else.
"My name is Lee Han-su. From now on, please just call me Secretary Lee."
Ending his little victory ceremony, Han-su introduced himself from a careful distance, not wanting to startle her further.
"Where is this? Why am I here?"
"The Director stepped out for a moment. He'll be back shortly."
"The… Director?"
The title did not sound like Jae-mun, which brought a fleeting sense of relief—but not knowing who this Director was left her uneasy all the same.
"The Director stayed by your side for three full days, Miss Han Hye-won. Do you remember anything?"
"Three days?"
The three days Han-su spoke of existed nowhere in Hye-won's memory.
That meant she had been completely unconscious—and she found it hard to believe him.
And who was this Director who had kept watch over her for so long?
Everything felt confusing.
"You must be starving. I'll have a meal prepared right away."
Han-su made a call somewhere and ordered food brought up.
"What day is it today?"
"October fifteenth."
The wedding had been set for October twelfth—so exactly three days had passed, just as Han-su said.
Hye-won slowly retraced the time she had lost. The hazy memories began to surface one by one.
She had been wearing her bridal makeup, on the way to the villa, when the accident happened.
Hyeong-u's blood-soaked face rose before her as clearly as a photograph.
"Ah—"
The painful memory crashed over her, and a splitting headache began.
The door to the suite opened and two staff members wheeled in a cart.
The meal Han-su had ordered a moment ago had arrived.
"You can set it up right here."
Han-su gestured toward the side of the bed, and one of the men slid a table into place beside it.
He adjusted the height with the supports; the second man draped a white tablecloth over the surface. From beneath the cart they produced a white vase holding roses and a gold candlestick, placing both in the center. The real setting began.
Korean and Western tableware, napkins—everything was arranged with perfect neatness, and in moments the room took on the air of a fine restaurant.
The two men moved as if they had rehearsed together for years, never once crossing paths, swift and precise.
"Please enjoy your meal."
In the blink of an eye the setting was complete. Both men bowed respectfully and left the suite.
"Don't tell me… all of this food was prepared just for me?"
Hye-won's eyes went round as she stared at the dishes that completely covered the table.
There was abalone porridge, bulgogi, seaweed soup, and grilled sea bream on the Korean side—plus toast, bacon, an omelet, spaghetti, and even pizza.
It was enough to feed four or five people easily.
When they said "a meal," she had expected rice, soup, and a few side dishes. She could not make sense of what she was seeing.
Never in her life had she been treated like this.
She had never even tasted seaweed soup on her own birthday; she could only sit there stunned.
"Why wouldn't it be? Every dish was prepared especially for you, Miss Han Hye-won. The Director said he didn't know what you liked, so he ordered us to have all of this ready the moment you woke. If there's anything else you'd like to eat, just say the word. We'll prepare it at once."
"No—these are all things I like. Thank you."
Hye-won bowed her head in gratitude.
Food prepared only for her… she still felt as if she were dreaming.
"Would it be all right if I portioned a little of each onto a plate for you? Are you able to eat on your own?"
He was asking whether she could move her arms. One arm had an IV; the fingers of the other were in a cast. Eating did not look easy.
"I can manage. Um… but could you tell me who this Director is? It feels uncomfortable to accept all this kindness without even knowing who he is."
"Why? So you can pay him back?"
Before Hye-won had finished speaking, a familiar male voice cut in.
She turned toward the sound and found Do-heon standing there with his hands in his pockets—she had no idea when he had arrived.
"Teach…er?"
His sudden appearance made her heart drop. She had never once imagined that the Director could be Do-heon.
"Welcome back, Director."
Behind Han-su, who was greeting Do-heon, Hye-won sat frozen with a spoon still in her hand. Do-heon strode to her side and laid his palm against her forehead.
"The fever seems to have gone down."
Hye-won's large eyes followed his hand up to her own brow. The familiar scent of his cologne drifted softly toward her, and her heart began to race wildly.
"Looking for me means your consciousness is back, too. Time to eat, Miss Han Hye-won."
Do-heon shrugged off his jacket and tossed it carelessly over the sofa, then rolled up his shirt sleeves.
He glanced around as if searching for something, then brought a chair over and settled himself right beside the bed.
"Teacher… was it you? The one they called the Director?"
Her round eyes, which had been following his every movement, met Do-heon's dark, ink-black gaze.