What's Your Name

"What's your name?"

Yeon murmured it while tapping the feather grass, then hauled herself up with a little huff of effort and turned her gaze past the fence. With the sun climbing, the wide garden showed itself off all the more.

Was the fence tall, or was Yeon small? Watching her rise onto her toes and hook her arms over it, Seol-woo let out a soft snort of laughter and came out carrying the smallest clothes he could find.

"Come out here and change."

Blinking drowsily, Yeon fiddled with the buttons of the cardigan he had fastened on her and drifted slowly toward him.

Once. Twice. Eyes closing, then flying wide. The look wasn't unfamiliar.

"Don't tell me—!"

The sight of her pitching forward played across his vision in slow motion. Seol-woo lunged and caught her an instant before she hit the ground.

"Ghk—!"

He barely got her into his arms, but the force of the fall sent him staggering backward until his feet tangled. He went down hard, his back cracking against the marble, and a groan tore out of him on its own.

God. That hurts like hell.

He rode out the dizzy instant, let go of a breath of relief, and tipped his head back.

A short meeting, and a long parting. He found it ridiculous that he had thrown his body toward Yeon without a second's hesitation.

What was this strange behavior he kept witnessing? Confusion sat in the gaze he aimed at the high ceiling.

His chest was a knot. Guilt for not having found her sooner. Pity for a woman who had lost her family and her whole life along with it. A tickle nothing like what he had felt in the past. He couldn't put a name to every feeling bleeding into the rest.

Yeon, spilled across his chest, shifted and squirmed, and a hot breath scattered from Seol-woo's mouth.

Soft, even little puffs of air tickled the nape of his neck. He had no idea how they had ended up in this position, but it was a serious problem.

"I've lost my mind."

Her red lips were close enough to brush his throat, and between his spread legs an uninvited guest had wedged itself in and was nuzzling. When her sharp little knee grazed the ridge already burning with heat, Seol-woo clenched his teeth.

No matter how he reached for reason, his body kept answering first. It was enough to drive a man insane.

Hard, and yet soft. Cool, and yet warm.

A bed? Or bare floor? The hospital's miserable mattress had never felt like this.

Still half asleep, her mind fogged, she moved a hand to check where she was lying.

"Easy with the hands."

At the sound of a voice both strange and familiar, Yeon's eyes flew open—and she froze.

It didn't take her long to understand that she was asleep on Seol-woo's chest.

"Ah—ah! I'm sorry, mister!"

"Mister?"

"No—boss!"

He had thrown himself down to catch her, and mister was all he got for it.

Pinned beneath her on the cold marble, Seol-woo laughed, hollow. The word had slipped out of her on its own, startled by the thick column of his neck and the veins standing proud along it.

"You're not my employee. And boss doesn't suit me either."

"Hup—! I'm sorry. Th-then what should I call you from now on?"

"We can decide that after you get off."

Beneath half-lowered lids, pitch-black eyes that hadn't yet shed their hunger tangled briefly with her innocent ones.

"Get down."

Seol-woo's voice was low. She was still grinding against him without the slightest idea she was doing it, and his patience had reached its end.

"Yes. I'll get down right now."

She bent her knees to push herself up off him, and in doing so pressed firmly between his legs.

"Ngh…"

The pained sound startled her into going limp, and she collapsed onto his chest all over again.

"Trying to make it burst. Why."

"What? Oh no, what do I do. I must be out of my mind. I'm really, really sorry."

"I heard you. Just get off."

Yeon crawled carefully away on all fours. It was the fastest way down she could find that wouldn't cause another accident.

"Are you all right?"

What if he threw her out? Having committed an enormous discourtesy, Yeon knelt there stiff with fear and searched his face.

He lay without moving, eyes closed. Something was clearly wrong.

"Don't worry about it. Go inside and change."

Seol-woo tapped her anxiously fidgeting fingers, then folded both hands neatly over his stomach as if he meant to meditate.

The pain was the lesser problem. He intended to cool the heat in his body.

Yeon's eyes found the front of Seol-woo's trousers and stayed there, quiet.

She had watched Hyeon-tae seize a bulge of flesh like that and shake it often enough that she couldn't fail to understand what a swollen zipper meant.

Should she tell Seol-woo she could touch him? Or not? She hesitated a moment, then offered her thanks instead.

"Thank you."

"Not mister. Not boss. Oppa. This face isn't a mister's, is it?"

"Yes, oppa. Then please lie comfortably."

Lie comfortably, she says.

Was she naturally warm, or only pretending to be good?

Yeon, who had taken to calling him oppa in an instant and ducked her head, snatched up the T-shirt and scurried off toward his bedroom.

Does he live all alone in a house this big?

The bedroom, reached only after a long walk down the hall from the living room, had one entire wall of glass as well.

Yeon changed while looking around the room, all of it sunk in dark colors, then walked forward as if spellbound. At the center of the tightly laid wooden deck sat an enormous swimming pool.

Her mouth fell open. She couldn't believe she was going to live in a place like this.

"What are you doing over there?"

Seol-woo, leaning in the doorway, called to Yeon where she stood plastered to the glass.

"This is heaven, isn't it?"

Sunbeds draped in cloth, a shade built of wood, trees thick with green leaves. Not one thing was missing.

It was a different world from the lawn garden she had seen off the living-room terrace.

Yeon kept looking at the pool. Seol-woo looked at Yeon's back.

Her blond hair, glittering in the sun, scattered and fluttered so softly he wanted to touch it himself.

"Don't collapse on me out of nowhere again. Get some sleep. You startled me."

"I'm not sleepy. You must be tired, so you should rest. I can play by myself in the living room."

"The housekeepers will be in soon. If you need anything, tell them."

"No. I can do it myself."

"Forget it. Scurrying around and getting hurt would be more of a nuisance."

"Hahaha. Okay."

Maybe because of the life she'd lived, the word nuisance lodged sharp in her ear. It was a word whose meaning she knew exactly.

She had heard it until she was sick of it, right up until they put her in the hospital.

"Is there a color you especially like?"

"Sorry?"

"I don't like saying things twice."

"Anything but white is fine."

"Is that so."

They say they call the psychiatric hospital the white house. Is it really nothing but white?

"Anything you want?"

"No. I've never even thought about it."

"If you think of something, tell me."

Yeon nodded hard. Seol-woo huffed a short laugh and checked the time.

"I have to head out, so rest. If you get bored, watch TV. The room across the hall is the study, so read if you like. You can walk around inside Felice, but do not go outside. I'll come for you this evening. We'll talk properly then."

Somehow it was nearly time to leave for work.

He sat high enough that vanishing for a day or two would draw complaint from no one, but today mattered. There was a general meeting of the branches.

"Yes! Don't worry about me. Have a good day."

Yeon bowed.

The farewell was a little early. Seol-woo, still leaning in the doorway, strode into the room.

Her eyes rolled after him—and met his when he suddenly turned back.

"I ought to change before I go, don't you think?"

"Ah—yes!"

He pointed to the dressing room off the bedroom, and Yeon moved.

She hadn't gone more than a few steps before she snatched up a slipper that had come off and dashed away, and the smile at the corner of Seol-woo's mouth refused to leave.

Finding her, even this late, was a mercy.

A three-story building holding the best spot even on the restaurant row.

Freshly remodeled, its glossy exterior boasted a clean, modern interior. The first floor was a brunch café and pub; the second, a wine bar. The owner of the expensive building was a middle-aged woman who kept her youth through ruthless maintenance.

"What is wrong with you? I told you I have to get ready to open!"

Sang-cheol dragged Se-hee—still driving the staff to open the café—up the stairs. Hauled along by a hard grip until she was bent over the long island table, she turned to look at her husband, who was already shoving his pants down without a word.

"What on earth is going on?"

"That bitch Dami ran."

"Have you lost your mind? How is that even possible? Do you know what I went through to hide her, and now you've lost her?"

She snapped, shaking his arm. The hairstyle she had paid a fortune to have set swayed with it, side to side.

The woman who kept Kwon Sang-cheol—a man notorious for his filthy temper—could flaunt a ripe, mature allure even in light makeup.

"I sent her out to place her in Pyeongchang-dong. The boys must have been standing around with their heads in the clouds."

"Then this is hardly the time for this!"

Sang-cheol shoved the cumbersome skirt up to her waist, yanked the thin strap of her underwear higher, and slapped the firm swell of her backside.

"That hurts—honey, ngh!"

He undid the bra hook beneath her shoulder blades with ease, slid both hands down, found the center of flesh that wouldn't even fit in his palms, and hooked his fingers in. When he twisted her crushed nipples as if he meant to pull them off, Se-hee's hips jerked hard.

Fuck. That perverted old bastard.

Was he feeding them aphrodisiacs? The slack, unfocused eyes of the young woman spreading her legs and kneading her own breasts to stoke Baek Chang-seok's appetite would not leave his head.

The implements scattered any which way in the corner of the private annex were enough to picture exactly how the old man handled women.

Imagining Dami—the one he had hoarded so carefully, just to turn a profit—broken in Baek Chang-seok's grip the way that woman had been a moment ago sent lust surging through him until his flat backside trembled.

"That bitch Dami would scream too—ugh!"

Sang-cheol drove himself straight into the entrance he must have used hundreds of times, yanked Se-hee's thrashing arms back, and scraped the head of him deep inside.

"Ha—ahn, do you have any idea how much she stands out? Ngh! If she runs into anyone who knew her as a child, it's over. We'll be completely broke—hnn!"

Slap. Slap. Even while skin met skin in rough, wet blows, Se-hee couldn't shake the worry.

"I know where she is. I'll bring her back soon."

"You know? Then go get her right now!"

"Things got complicated. Some bastard I can't touch carelessly got involved."

Still driving busily into her, Sang-cheol drew his brows tight and ground his teeth.

If he had only gotten Dami safely to Pyeongchang-dong, he and Se-hee could have lived high for the rest of their lives.

"Ahh—aah! A little slower!"

"Ghk—!"

The higher his irritation climbed, the harder he snapped his hips, until he spilled himself across the smooth small of her back.

Finished with the messy coupling without even properly undressing, the two of them went slack and panted.

"Haa. Baby. You know I lost every won I borrowed against this building in the stock market. If this keeps up, I'm really finished."

In truth, she was already a peach that only looked good from the outside.

Se-hee spent like a chaebol. She had burned through every bit of Jae-ho's fortune left to Yeon, and all that remained was this building.

"Don't worry so much."

Hearing it from Sang-cheol didn't settle her.

Jang Se-hee was Yeon's legal guardian. Three years before the sedan carrying the Sunwoo family overturned, she had married Sunwoo Jae-ho, father of Yeon and Jun.

She had taken her place at Jae-ho's side for the money from the start. Once the funeral was rushed through, she cleaned out the fat accounts and the stocks first.

While she was still agonizing over how to use what remained in Yeon's name, she met Sang-cheol. He said he could help. She followed him, dragging Yeon—who was no longer in her right mind—and hid them both in a hillside slum.

Arranging things so she could freely spend Jae-ho's assets took a long time.

The end of that long road was turning Yeon into Kwon Dami, Sang-cheol's daughter, locking her in a psychiatric hospital, and selling her to Baek Chang-seok.

"You find her, and you send her to Pyeongchang-dong. Understand?"

"Of course."

Sang-cheol hauled his waistband up, stuck a cigarette between his lips, and nodded.

Se-hee was one problem. Failing to get Dami back would be another: the vicious old man's rage, and one thoroughly fucked situation waiting on the other side of it.

At CH Paradise headquarters, the general meeting had run more than two hours without a break, and it had gone straight to hell.

"Are you screwing with me right now?"

The Paradise venture Seol-woo had driven forward the moment he took his post in CH Group's strategic planning division had posted astonishing profits and ridden a clean road of success.

The idea was simple. The investment was not. Wide tracts of land, bought aggressively: a department store beside the hotel, a resort beside the department store. An entire department-store annex handed over to the cultural center as demand swelled, and a cinema installed as a matter of course.

Every other convenience packed in with them, the whole of it composed like a small tourist city. That was CH Paradise.

Step inside, and you could not last the day without spending money. A day that began with CH and ended with CH.

So CH Paradise had planted itself as a landmark in every region, and on the strength of overwhelming capital it now stood on the verge of moving into Asia.