You Will Be Sun Woo-yeon
"Yes, sir."
Seol-woo took the measuring tape from Se-in and drew Yeon up onto her feet.
"Come with me."
He led the way into the bedroom. Yeon bowed her head in silence to the people who had worked so hard, then followed.
"What, is she his lover?"
"First time I've ever seen CEO Cha Seol-woo shopping with a woman."
"Unreal. Doesn't he have a fiancée already?"
The models who had slipped into the side room they used as a backstage dropped their voices as low as they could manage.
"Men keep lovers even when they've got wives. What's a fiancée to that?"
"Anyway, what's with that girl? She wrecked the whole atmosphere. Mixed, I bet."
"Did you see Cha Seol-woo being sweet? This one or that one, and he even measured her? Gave me chills. Every other time he just sat there arrogant—this, that, turn around, something else. All I've ever seen is him jabbing a finger."
They had walked shows for Seol-woo and Hwa-jin more than once, which only made today stranger. It was nothing like the man who used to lounge in his chair and point.
"He does that to the male models too. Why are you the one getting worked up?"
"Just watching from the side bruises your pride!"
"So what. Disgustingly handsome, disgustingly rich. God, what a life to envy. Seriously."
The gossip didn't stop even as clothes came off in a rush. Everyone gathered here was a famous model who could fly, but they could hardly help envying chaebol heirs for whom the number of zeros they were born with had never mattered.
"But who doesn't know their own shoe size?"
"Guess that's how girls hook men these days."
"All right, enough chatter. Let's go. Everyone got everything?"
"Yes."
They knew exactly how Seol-woo spent money, so the haul they had brought, brand by brand, was enormous—enough that more than twenty models had to wheel out two suitcases apiece. Ordinarily, once a VIP finished shopping and left the room first, people were called in to tidy up. But because he had gone into the bedroom saying he would measure her feet, the ones who had gathered the clothes themselves filed out one after another.
"Sit."
In the bedroom he settled Yeon on the bed, then dropped to the floor and took her foot in his hand. The scarred little foot that fit entirely inside his palm was very small.
"Hhnn, that tickles!"
Yeon twisted, letting out a strange little laugh. Seol-woo paid it no mind and set the tape against her.
"Two-twenty-five. How is it this small."
He had expected as much from the moment it sat in his hand, but it was a size a man rarely heard.
"What size are you, Oppa?"
The name slipped out so naturally that the corner of his mouth curved. The way her small mouth worked made him think of a squirrel.
"I'm a two-seventy. Ethan's a two-ninety. Chen's a two-sixty—the smallest. Ah. Now you're the smallest."
"I see."
Yeon nodded quietly. She had no sense, to begin with, of what counted as small or large, so she couldn't tell how big a two-ninety really was.
"Underwear size."
"...I'm sorry."
She fidgeted, at a loss, worrying the hem before she dropped her head. Under his T-shirt she still wore nothing but worn-out underthings.
"We'll eyeball it for now. Exact sizes later."
"Okay. But why are you buying me so many clothes?"
"Why? Do you like wearing mine?"
"Huh? I do like them. They're comfortable."
"You need clothes. Obviously."
Seol-woo drew his phone from his inner pocket and, thumb moving, entered her shoe size and a guessed measurement for underwear, recalling the bare chest he had seen at the bar. This much ought to cover what she needs right away.
"How long are you going to keep me? Until I've tried on every single outfit once?"
"You want me to play dress-up with a doll?"
"That would make more sense. At first I was just happy, but the longer it goes on, the more I wonder. It feels so much like a dream that I'm scared I don't know when I'll wake up."
Yeon clutched the hem. She was happy, and she was afraid. After seven years, everything she met in the world outside was more than she deserved.
"I told you. From now on, you live with me."
Her gaze rose with him as he stood. Unlike her unease, his movements were easy and light.
"Is there something you want from me?"
The words that had been churning through her head slipped out before she could stop them. Seol-woo caught the meaning at once and looked down at her, standing at a slight angle. Had she been cornered badly enough to think like that?
"If there is, will you do it?"
Yeon gave a small nod. She wanted to meet that steady gaze calmly, but her dry swallow went down loud. She felt his eyes travel, unbroken, from her face to her throat, from her throat lower still, all the way to her feet.
"Sounds an awful lot like you're offering to let me have you."
Under that persistent look and the blunt question, her face flushed.
"Yes, I can. I—I know what kind of thing it is. I've heard a lot, and they say doing that makes you feel good. You bought me food, and you let me sleep, and you bought me so many clothes, so what if I... spread my legs and made Oppa feel a little better..."
The men who watched her at the hospital had loved pouring out filthy talk and snickering. They would say where they meant to make her suck, how they meant to shove it in, and make obscene gestures right in front of her eyes while she lay drugged and bound. Her father, Kwon Sang-cheol, had installed surveillance cameras, so she had been spared the worst of it, but furtive groping happened often. If Seol-woo liked that sort of thing too, she thought she could do it for him—if it meant she could live somewhere full of warm, soft things, like the bed she sat on now, or the sofa in his house.
"...Spread what?"
"They said a hole that's never taken a man tastes good. So if you want, you can use it as much as—"
Seol-woo, flustered in a way that didn't suit him at all, shot a hand up and covered her mouth.
"Where did you pick up a mouth like that."
When his face twisted, Yeon understood her mistake and lowered her eyes. This was a completely different world from the hospital, and she had made a terrible error, treating Seol-woo as if he were someone on her own level.
"I'm sorry."
He gave no answer. He only came closer, slowly. As his leaning torso drew near, the long fall of his tie swayed across her chest. Close enough that their noses might have touched, he brought a leg up onto the bed and knelt. The nearer that broad chest came, the farther Yeon tipped back, until she sucked in a sharp breath. Her heart pounded so hard she thought the sound might reach his ears.
"Shh. Be still. Don't move."
She had meant it when she said she would make him feel good. She had meant it—and yet, faced with the moment, her body froze a little. The instant she felt his hand fussing at the nape of her neck, her mind went white.
"Um, um—"
There. The clasp that had been stubbornly missing its catch finally seated, and the frown he had worn in concentration smoothed away. At the sight of Yeon with her shoulders hunched tight and her eyes squeezed shut, Seol-woo let out a short breath of a laugh and drew back.
The explicit words spilling from that innocent face had barely lodged in his ear before heat gathered low in his gut, but he had no intention of becoming the bastard who stripped her and took her. Like hell she can.
"A pretty mouth should only say pretty things."
"What?"
"A gift. For coming to live at our house."
A round pendant, engraved with an angel whose wings were spread wide, dropped between her collarbones. She touched the unfamiliar necklace, eyes shining—but only for a moment. Shame climbed her spine, and her head bowed on its own. She was mortified, and pathetic, for having compared someone this good to the staff at the hospital.
"Ugh, let me be alone for a minute!"
"I'll give you five. We have to go eat."
Seol-woo turned away, smiling. He couldn't see her face, but the small ear flushed red between loose strands of blond hair was unbearably cute.
"Don't act like an idiot. Pull yourself together."
She was an idiot, yes, but she wouldn't act like one. After promising herself that several times, Yeon lifted her head. She studied the necklace she hadn't properly seen, rubbing the cooler backs of her hands against her cheeks again and again. Her heart kept thumping as if Seol-woo were still beside her, and the feeling was wholly strange.
It was a hotel that had claimed the industry's top spot by overtaking CH, and even at a fairly late hour the sky-lounge restaurant was crowded with guests. Whether it was the spill of blond hair or a look that didn't belong in a place like this, diners seated near the entrance kept glancing at Yeon.
"Um..."
"It's fine."
Cowed by the unfamiliar room and the sharp looks, she hesitated, then caught the hem of his clothes. She had never been used to crowds to begin with. Walking ahead of her, Seol-woo wrapped an arm around her narrow shoulders and gave them a pat.
"You've arrived, sir."
The maître d', catching his breath with two hours left until close, spotted Seol-woo and hurried out at once.
"Is there a private room."
"Of course. I'll show you to a window table."
Leading the way toward the room they always kept empty for occasions like this, he straightened his loosened tie and shot an urgent look at the staff watching the floor. A quick-witted server followed with menus and water.
Just as she had in the suite, Yeon was busy looking everywhere in the lounge restaurant, eyes gone wide. Cheeks that had been white to the point of pallor flushed a peach color and seemed to ripple with it.
"A reasonable course. No wine. Orange juice for her."
"Yes, sir."
The maître d' excused himself with a polite bow, and Yeon, curious, fiddled with the ordinary place settings laid on the table.
"Anything you can't eat? Something you don't like."
He had ordered the orange juice she had loved as a child, but he wondered whether her tastes had changed as she grew.
"No. I'll eat whatever I'm given."
"I'd have thought you didn't like vegetables."
He murmured it thinking of the Yeon who had been such a picky eater that on days of bean rice or mixed-grain rice she would pick every last bit out into her own bowl.
"No, I eat everything just fine."
Bright with excitement, she bounced on her feet and looked past the wide glass. The night view of the Han River, spread out clear and wide, only sharpened her appetite.
"You didn't stay small from being picky, did you?"
Seol-woo pushed one brow up. Whether she simply hadn't been fed properly growing up, she was certainly small in the frame. Then again, even as a child she used to whine that she always had to sit in the front.
"Being picky was a luxury too."
It was the flat tone of someone reporting an ordinary day—a voice that sounded like nothing, because by now it was nothing to her. She had never been able to fill her stomach on the food that came out of the hospital. The portions were small to begin with, and on days her attitude was poor they wouldn't even give her a sip of water. When she was first locked away she had rebelled in every way she knew, until she couldn't endure the hunger and chose to behave. In a place where every scrap had to be pushed into her mouth, pickiness had never been possible. The violence was violence, but she had also surrendered to the primal instinct of appetite, given up on everything, and learned how to live there.
"I'll set the bread and soup down first."
A server who had wheeled in a two-tier cart lifted out plates painted with ornate patterns, one after another. From the very start of the course Yeon had been staring, eyes round, back and forth between the food and Seol-woo, and before she knew it she swallowed a mouthful of gathered saliva.
"Eat."
As if she weren't some dog waiting on its owner's permission. Only after he spoke did Yeon—who had picked up the spoon and curled it into her palm—glance around and correct her grip.
"I'll eat well."
Ordinarily she would have shoved it into her mouth any which way, but with that beautiful night view below and even the tissue case looking antique, she hesitated over the food and watched him closely. She spooned the soup three times, exactly as he did, then followed him in picking up the bread. When Seol-woo dipped his in the soup, so did Yeon; when he spread cream cheese, she spread cream cheese too.
She only ever picks the cute things to do.
The line of his mouth, tearing bread, turned upward. Those utterly innocent eyes, and the small hand that moved only by chasing his, pleased him more than a little.
"I'll set down the appetizer and the salad."
At the sight of the appetizer, plated to look delicious, Yeon's eyes began to shine again.
"Stop watching me and eat the way you usually do."
He pushed his own share toward her as she savored the taste, then leaned back comfortably against the chair.
"You're not having any?"
"You eat it all. It'll be good."
"Really?"
"Really."
Yeon glanced at him where he had drawn back from the table and folded his arms, then worked her fork as much as she pleased. Everything was a one-bite dish, so the plates emptied in an instant. Cheeks stuffed until they might burst, she turned a bright, excited face toward him and shot him a thumbs-up. Watching her hum to herself while she waited for the next course, Seol-woo idly smoothed the point of his chin. He was realizing, all over again, how satisfying it could be simply to buy someone good food.
When the steak came next, he cut it into manageable pieces, passed them to her, and took a sip of cold water.
"Listen while you eat."
"Mm, okay."
Tasting meat so fine it all but melted on her tongue, Yeon's mouth fell open. So food like this had existed in the world.
"Who's that?"
Yeon, cutting the meat into big pieces and drowning them in sauce, kept moving her fork. Three pieces. Four. Watching her push the meat in without really chewing, Seol-woo closed his mouth for a moment.