At Least Guard Your Heart
Evening passed without incident. Ever since Mother died, the house had never really been a place for lively meals; I had eaten alone more often than not. So sharing a table again, listening to other people’s conversation, left me a little scattered—and yet somehow more alive.
Aside from the faint unease that prickled whenever my eyes met Cha Seon-tae’s, it was a decent enough dinner.
“Thanks for letting me stay the night.”
Once the gardeners had gone and the housekeeper had retired to the annex, only Hee-yeon unni and I remained inside the main house. She had to head back up to Seoul the following afternoon, so she had already packed most of her things and planned to sleep in the housekeeper’s room. With empty bedrooms upstairs, though, I told her to take the second-floor guest room so we could both rest more comfortably.
“Do you have something to sleep in?”
“Yeah. I left a few clothes behind.”
I glanced at the shopping bag in her hand and nodded.
Silence stretched between us for a moment. The awkwardness was leftover from all the sharp, unspoken tension that had hung in the air lately. Neither of us had named it, but both of us had felt it. I looked around idly, then pointed toward the stairs.
“Shall we go up?”
“Sure. Let’s.”
I started first; she followed. One step, then another—our footsteps never quite overlapping as they climbed.
Watching her at dinner, I realized she seemed far less affected by Cha Seon-tae than I had expected. She glanced at him now and then, but none of those looks carried the same soft interest I had once seen when she peeked from the second-floor window. She had clearly moved on.
Everyone gave up so quickly. There was no need to cling, of course, yet the speed with which they sorted out their feelings in just a few days still struck me as almost uncanny.
Would I become that decisive once I reached Hee-yeon or Do Ha-jin’s age? Maybe it would even feel lighter then—proof that you had grown used to emotions that never last forever.
I was still lost in thought when I stepped onto the second floor.
“Miss.”
“Yes?”
I turned. Hee-yeon unni stood with one foot on the top step, looking up at me.
Under the hallway light she looked especially pretty. Far too young, far too lovely and kind to spend her life shut away in a two-story house in a small city. I had no idea what she would end up doing in Seoul, but I felt certain it was the wiser choice for her life.
She climbed the last step until we stood face to face, watching me quietly. Her lips moved as if she had something to say, so I waited. A long time passed without a word.
She stared at me hard, then looked away, then dropped her gaze to fiddle with the shopping bag. The whole restless performance looked exactly like Do Ha-jin earlier that day. Come to think of it, everything about today—leaving Muze-si for America, for Seoul—kept overlapping Hee-yeon unni and Do Ha-jin in my mind.
“Is there something you want to say?”
I finally asked when I could wait no longer. She took a half-step back and spoke.
“Don’t give him your heart.”
My shoulders jerked reflexively. The words came out of nowhere, yet I understood them at once.
I just didn’t know why.
“At least try to do that much.”
“…”
“At the very least… your heart.”
She let out a long breath, then finished in a low voice.
“Guard it.”
She studied me for another moment while I stood there stupidly, then wished me good night and disappeared into the farthest guest room. The door closed softly. Silence settled over the hallway.
It felt unnaturally heavy.
Hee-yeon unni left after one final deep clean. Under a reddening sky we said our goodbyes; on the walk back to the house the housekeeper sighed, clearly missing her already.
“I’d grown so fond of her… it just feels strange.”
“…”
“Still, she’s leaving for something better, so I suppose that’s a relief…”
Worry filled her face as she stared at the large house. Three people’s work now rested on her shoulders alone; of course she was anxious. I looked over the main house and the annex, the angel statue, the flower beds and trees in the yard, then said quietly,
“I’ll help a lot more.”
“Oh, nonsense. Miss, you don’t need to worry about that.”
I simply smiled; she smiled back and turned to admire the flower beds.
“Still, this summer we’re losing an awful lot of people.”
“Pardon?”
“Hee-yeon, Driver Kim, Im Jeong-ho as well…”
Im Jeong-ho had been Cha Seon-tae’s predecessor.
“That’s not exactly common, is it?”
“…No, it isn’t.”
She was right. Three people gone in barely two months was unusual, as far as my memory reached.
Aside from dismissing Mother’s driver and one of the commuting managers after she died, we had never lost so many at once. Everyone had their own reasons, so I had simply accepted it—until curiosity finally made me ask,
“Why did Im Jeong-ho quit?”
I couldn’t remember ever hearing a reason. When they first mentioned a new hire I hadn’t cared; only now that the vacancy had brought Cha Seon-tae—and the game we were playing—did I find myself wondering.
Im Jeong-ho had worked for us a long time. Sudden departure usually meant better work elsewhere, or maybe he had followed Driver Kim into Father’s factory. But the housekeeper’s expression turned distinctly sour.
“Well… Jeong-ho didn’t leave for a happy reason like the others…”
“What do you mean?”
“Apparently he’d been into games for a long time.”
“Games? What kind?”
“Card games.”
The way she said it made it clear these weren’t ordinary cards. She softened the truth for me.
“He got into some trouble there, I gather. I don’t know the details, but continuing the garden work became impossible.”
“Ah…”
“Still, filling the spot with a solid young man like Seon-tae is a blessing. He works hard and he’s so quick on his feet—the manager says things are much easier now.”
“…”
“Oh, and Seon-tae’s going to use Hee-yeon’s old room, right?”
I nodded. She unlocked the front door and gestured for me to go in first.
The moment I stepped inside, the house felt oddly hollow. I swallowed dryly and looked around. Unlike the gardeners or the driver, Hee-yeon unni had always been inside; her absence left a real empty space.
The housekeeper headed for the kitchen to start dinner. I sat on the living-room sofa to wait. Sunset had soaked the room in red.
“At the very least… guard your heart.”
I pulled my knees up and stared at nothing, and Hee-yeon unni’s parting words rose again. My brow furrowed slightly.
What had she meant?
I had turned the sentence over before sleep and still found no answer. There had been no chance to ask, and somehow I doubted she would have explained even if I had. If she had wanted me to understand, she would have spoken clearly from the start.
“At least guard your heart” sounded almost like an admission that everything else was already beyond protection.
What did that even mean? If not the heart, then the body? Had she somehow learned about the arrangement Seon-tae and I had made? Even if she had, why warn me? And why the night before she left? Whatever I did with Cha Seon-tae had nothing to do with her.
At least.
Your heart.
Guard it.
I rolled the fragments around on my tongue, still unsettled by the unanswered question, when the front-gate buzzer rang. My eyes snapped up.
Father, probably. He was coming home for once; I had no desire to run into him, so I started to rise. But the housekeeper hurried out first, switched on the video intercom, and let out a soft “Oh!” I froze midway.
“It’s Seon-tae.”
“…What?”
“Looks like he’s moving in today after all.”
“…”
She opened the gate at once. I sank back onto the sofa. If it wasn’t Father, there was no reason to hide. I hugged my knees again. The housekeeper, about to return to the kitchen, glanced back at me.
“While he’s staying, how should we handle Seon-tae’s meals? Same as Hee-yeon—eat with me?”
Usually I ate first, then the housekeeper and Hee-yeon shared the dining room. Seon-tae wasn’t household staff, yet the annex had no kitchen, and he still needed to eat. I nodded. She smiled brightly and disappeared inside.
I toyed with my fingers, staring into space, then turned toward the window. The annex wasn’t visible from here, but I could picture a silhouette heading that way. The buzzer sounded again—this time the front-door chime. After a moment’s hesitation I slipped off the sofa. The housekeeper was already rushing back out.
“Seon-tae must need something.”
“I’ll get it.”
I unlocked the door and pulled it open. A savory smell hit me first; then Cha Seon-tae stood there, washed in sunset, grinning as he casually swung a paper bag printed with a chicken logo.
“Wanna eat chicken?”
“…”
“Oh my, I was just about to start dinner.”
“Stop and eat with us.”
“Hmm… Miss, what do you think?”
I looked at the rustling bag and nodded.
“Let’s share it.”
“All right. Seon-tae, hand that over first. I’ll get things ready—come in when you’re ready.”
As the bag passed over my shoulder to the housekeeper, I kept watching him. He watched me back from under lowered lids.
“Why are you still standing there?”
“…”
“Just… you look so different from when you look at me.”
At the very least… guard your heart.
What ridiculous thoughts was I having? I clicked my tongue, made sure the housekeeper had gone, then beckoned him closer.
Without a word I rose on my toes, looped my arms around his neck, and pressed my mouth to his. Even though the kiss came out of nowhere, he didn’t flinch; he simply angled his jaw and slid his tongue in at once. The readiness pleased me.
Given where we were, I only licked lightly inside his mouth, yet a tingling hunger still spread through me. Yes. This was the only kind of stimulation I wanted from him. Remembering that fact settled something inside me, so I drew back. Our lips parted with a wet sound; I met his eyes looking down at me from an angle.
“Welcome gift?”
I turned away without answering and stepped inside. He caught my arm and planted a short, sharp kiss on my mouth.
I flinched and twisted aside; his face followed in the same direction. A few more attempts to dodge still left him filling my vision, so I simply gave up.
“What? Got something to say?”