Don't Call That Bastard's Name
The place they arrived at was an exclusive Chinese restaurant with a spacious parking lot and a freestanding private building. It felt familiar—he had come here now and then when his father said he was picking up Noona.
He had ridden shotgun more than once, and every time Yeon-ha would bring him the peanut ice cream they made specially at Jangmungak, looking after him.
“If I eat with those people I’ll get indigestion!”
She would grumble for a while, then go quiet; when he looked back she would be asleep with a hand on her full stomach. Then Go Eun-jung and Go Je-yoon would chuckle and drive through the night streets.
Now that he knew where they were dining, Je-yoon headed back to the studio. He drove the car sitting alone in front of the workshop and returned to Jangmungak.
He waited five hours out front. He was doing again the things he had done so often as a boy. Only now he was the one behind the wheel.
“I miss you.”
He folded his arms over the steering wheel and rested his head. His eyes never left the entrance for even a second.
Then a familiar face staggered out and headed for a black sedan. Song Dae-hoon. The knowledge that even that guy had been at the table left him strangely uneasy.
Five minutes later Seo Tae-won was practically hauled away by secretaries. After a longer stretch Song Si-hoon emerged looking mostly fine, though his steps were a little crooked.
Why are they all drunk? Then how wasted is Song Yeon-ha?
Je-yoon chewed his lip, dialed his phone, and got out of the car. The busy signal made his brow crease slightly. Who was she talking to at almost midnight?
He waited a moment and called again. After a long ring Yeon-ha’s voice came through. Relieved she hadn’t ignored his call, Je-yoon let the corner of his mouth lift.
“Noona—”
“Kevin.”
The name from the other end made him stagger.
“Haah… Kevin… you… haah…. Kevin Lee…. Let’s… get back together….”
Je-yoon’s feet stopped dead.
“…What?”
“Auuu… get back together… you, Keviiin… you… keep… uu….”
What the hell was she saying.
His heart hammered. Then it went ice-cold in an instant, pain crashing through him as if someone had stomped it flat. No matter how hard he tried to gather the shattered pieces, they would not come together.
Reason gone, he walked straight into the building. He grabbed anyone he saw and demanded where Song Yeon-ha was. Of course no one answered. She wouldn’t be in the main hall, so he flung open every closed door.
On the fifth door he found her asleep.
Face set hard, Je-yoon gathered her things and lifted her into his arms.
The staff member who had followed recognized the two of them and looked flustered, but quickly shut his mouth. The second-floor staff at Jangmungak had a rule: no matter who you see or what you hear, act as if you know nothing.
Isn’t that the model Yun? Holy shit he’s gorgeous… but what’s his relationship with this woman? She’s Songhwa Group people.
The employee thought as much even as he handed Je-yoon her jacket. A quick judgment that nothing good would come of letting anyone see their faces.
Eyes slightly wild, Je-yoon turned curtly and headed for the parking lot. Watching their retreating backs, the employee summed the pair up in one word.
Affair.
He’d heard Song Yeon-ha was divorced—had she been having an affair with that model? Or had they only met after the divorce? Either way it was scandal material, but…
His mouth itched, yet he kept his head down. Once, someone here had gossiped about Chairman Song’s womanizing and vanished the very next day.
Dead or transferred, no one still knew. Whether the story was true or just rumor, the fact that everyone sealed their lips to stay alive suggested the former.
Ten minutes after they reached Yeon-ha’s penthouse, Je-yoon pressed his forehead to the steering wheel and stared at her with bloodshot eyes.
“Don’t.”
Don’t reconcile or any of that.
He forced the words out, shoving breath through a throat that had shrunk to nothing.
After everything it took for me to stand beside you again.
He had sworn he would confess the moment he became an adult. Even if she didn’t accept him, he wanted her to know how he felt.
He had known his father had noticed, known the younger Madam disapproved, but none of that mattered. A complacent thought.
He had been terrified she might get a boyfriend once she became an adult first. So every day he skipped self-study at school under the excuse of walking practice.
If Song Yeon-ha drank, he waited and took her home. No matter how many times he drove them off, men with impure intentions still flocked around her. Then the moment they learned her family they usually backed away on their own.
They knew, at least, that trying to use her could backfire once they saw her background.
Even knowing Songhwa was choking her, there were moments he selfishly hoped she would stay inside that fence forever.
In front of her he never showed his feelings. He was afraid she would be startled if she realized a minor liked her.
When she held out her ankle and asked him to fasten the anklet, her slender calf filled his hand. Because his mind kept trying to invent what lay under the chiffon skirt, he acted even more indifferent. Afraid he might slip.
Forcing her to withdraw from Seoul National University and sending her to study in America—that had been a development he never imagined. Still, it was all right.
He had been busy himself with school and modeling work.
To stand beside her he desperately needed money, ability, and recognition from those around them.
If they could not see each other anyway, they would each do their best where they were, and the moment he graduated he would go straight to her.
He had hoped that for a few years at least she would be able to breathe outside Songhwa.
She would come back after graduation.
But Yeon-ha made an unexpected choice. Claiming she would work at the American branch, she never returned to Korea.
Growing more frantic, Je-yoon felt he had to finish military service as soon as possible.
“By the time you get discharged… maybe you’ll come to Korea?”
The words she had given him in their last call before enlistment became law; he clung to that thought alone and endured.
Just finish service. Once this fucking military life is over, confess to Noona.
During his service he deliberately did not contact her. Afraid he would not be able to hang up, afraid he would miss her more.
And afraid that in the filthy army toilets where any man with a dick went into heat at the thought of a woman, he too might end up thinking of Song Yeon-ha and jerking off. He did not even allow himself lewd fantasies.
After discharge, to see the married Song Yeon-ha he deliberately packed his American schedule to the breaking point. He turned down every love call from Europe and accepted every North American collection without fail.
The excuse of stopping by for work was the best cover.
She didn’t avoid him either. Only an invisible line had appeared. They used to walk into her Korean house together as a matter of course; now she walked into another man’s house as if it were the most natural thing. The defeat that came with it left him not knowing what to do.
He had investigated Kevin thoroughly, but the bastard’s record was cleaner than expected. He came home on time and never secretly met other women. And Yeon-ha was the same.
Back at the hotel Je-yoon would stroke himself while thinking of her, guilt thick enough to choke on. Just the image of her smiling, just the fantasy of a kiss, and he could come wet and messy.
Sometimes he stood on the street at the hour the two of them would be together and looked up at their house. When the lights went out he grew restless. He wanted to punch a random utility pole and couldn’t even do that.
“Ha, fuck…. Noona, why… why…!”
His body was an asset. The only path for someone with nothing to succeed, the only thing that might one day make Song Yeon-ha look at him even once.
During the stretch when contact with Yeon-ha briefly cut off and Fashion Week kept him frantic, he heard through his father that she might divorce. He was so happy he could have jumped. He fretted to return to Korea as soon as possible.
No—he wanted to fly to America that very day and bring Yeon-ha straight back to Korea.
“Song Yeon-ha.”
Uncontrollable moments kept bursting out and hurting him worse.
“Mm….”
Yeon-ha stirred and opened her eyes. Through the haze of her mind the clearest thing that registered was Je-yoon’s face.
“Water….”
At her words Je-yoon took a bottle from the glove box, twisted the cap off, and held it out. When she kept missing the bottle, he supported her upper body, tipped her head back, and slowly poured water into her mouth.
“Umm, mm….”
She swallowed well for a while, then shook her head and pushed the bottle away. Je-yoon felt a pain as if he himself had been rejected. Looking at her with wounded eyes, he settled back into the driver’s seat.
His gaze fixed only on Yeon-ha twisted with unease. Unaware of any of it, Yeon-ha bit her lip against the throbbing headache.
Kevin’s texts, the ones that had scraped her nerves raw, rose in her mind.
“Kevin… you… again—”
Never contact me again. The mouth that had been about to mutter the words was blocked by something. Soft, yet her lips were being chewed carefully. At the small pain she parted them with an “ah,” and a tongue slid in as if to steal her breath.
Her eyes would not open, but Yeon-ha knew it was Je-yoon’s scent. It should have been a delusion born of alcohol, yet every sense was sharp.
There was no way Je-yoon would kiss her.
Feeling a tight ache bloom in her chest, she kept dropping her head against the neck of the Je-yoon who was pushing into her.
A solid arm wrapped her waist and pulled her closer. Tilting his head further, he kissed her deeper. It was fierce, as if it were the last kiss. A moan slipped from Yeon-ha’s mouth as she clutched his collar.
Coming back to himself late, Je-yoon pressed his forehead to hers and drew his lips away just a fraction.
“Don’t call that bastard’s name. Okay? Song Yeon-ha….”
His lips, heated by anxiety, trembled hard.