Hand Play
Just locking eyes was enough to send her senses spiraling, as though their lips had actually met.
The urge to flee from him as he slowly narrowed the distance crashed over her like a wave.
If not for the scent claiming her nose, perhaps it would have been easier to bear. Or if only he would soften that gaze.
“But do you usually ignore what people say?”
The heavy voice that sank beside her ear seemed to be searching for somewhere to pin its rough stare.
Seol-hye blinked several times to steady her increasingly scattered mind before she spoke.
“If I missed something, would you mind repeating it?”
She pressed her lips together, forcing her tone to stay as calm and unbothered as possible.
“You said my very existence makes you uncomfortable. To you.”
She knew all too well that any attempt at persuasion or explanation about the past events he clung to would be pointless.
“As long as you don’t create any risks, there shouldn’t be any discomfort for you.”
She gave a slight, polite dip of her head. Her unfocused gaze, still pinned to the floor, caught the tip of his dress shoe.
The resentment that suddenly surged through her found its target in those innocent shoes—resentment over what had happened two days ago.
Just as the memory surfaced, a sharp, electric thrill raced across her skin, setting every nerve on edge.
“Does it not occur to you that you could be the greatest risk of all?”
“I’ll make sure nothing you worry about comes to pass.”
“Do you even know what it is I’m worried about?”
“Yes. I believe I do.”
Whether she was called a dog or stood before the word attendant, the only thing that mattered was the outcome. Sometimes it was best to simply let the other person think whatever was convenient.
“Like what happened yesterday.”
“Yes. I’ll ensure nothing like yesterday happens again.”
“Really?”
His expression seemed to say, Let’s see you try. Seol-hye straightened her spine, refusing to yield.
“Yes. It was clearly my mistake. I’m sorry.”
She finished with a small nod.
She was acknowledging her own failure to push him away—her inability to push him away. In truth, it was a warning. It was also a reminder of her proper place.
“There will be no daring to cross any lines.”
“I wonder who gets to decide where that line is.”
“Of course—”
“Of course it’ll be me.”
He snatched the words from her mouth and stepped boldly forward. Raising one finger, he made a show of drawing a long line in the space between them.
“Like this?”
She was about to step back to honor that line when a hand curled around the nape of her neck and yanked her forward instead.
“I decide where the line is drawn and when it’s erased. Got it?”
He clearly had no intention of looking away from their locked gazes. For no reason at all, she became acutely aware of the empty space around them.
“I think it would be best if you refrained from this kind of prank.”
“Prank, is it?”
He didn’t usually latch onto the tail end of someone’s words, yet this time he had twisted hers completely.
“As you know, the mansion is full of watching eyes.”
“So it’s fine as long as there are no eyes watching.”
The moment he withdrew his hand, he turned his gaze toward the main house. His profile looked strangely lonely.
That couldn’t be.
“I have work to attend to, so I’ll take my leave.”
Having turned away first, she could feel the unkind stare boring into her back. She would have to endure this countless times from now on, so she decided not to read any further meaning into it.
If she could, she would have carved out the young master from that time—the one still lodged somewhere inside her chest—and thrown him away entirely.
She knew the truth. The harder she denied it, the deeper the agony would burrow. Still, she gathered her turbulent emotions.
This was simply loosening the tension by facing her feelings before the real game began. Soon enough, facing him would become part of her daily life.
She hoped that with time it would get easier. That exposure would build some immunity.
She clung to that prayer-like wish.
Whether it was word play or hand play.
Tae-yul rose from the half-bath, wrapped a large towel around his hips, and stood tall before the mirror.
He lightly rubbed his flushed face with his palm. A bead of sweat slid from the sharp line of his jaw, tracing down the carved ridges of his pectorals.
“Hoo.”
The sigh that left Tae-yul was so heavy it fogged the mirror he stared into.
“Daring to move into my house?”
The red tint on his face deepened as he continued his monologue.
The half-bath he had chosen to clear his head had only tangled his thoughts further. Sighs kept slipping out without pause.
The thought that sleeping with the enemy would soon begin made his chest feel as suffocating as his mind.
If something was unavoidable, then he might as well enjoy it boldly. Part of him even wanted to sink his teeth in, tear her apart, and relish the wreckage.
He had been ten years old when the toy he had wanted his entire life broke beyond repair. That was when Tae-yul learned a better way to deal with anger.
Destroy it completely.
Obliterate every trace without mercy.
At some point that method had seeped into the deepest part of his heart. It was the same method that had once made him look at Kkomaeng-i and feel, for the first time, the absurd desire to possess a woman.
Because of the incident nine years ago, she had become an existence he must never have.
Over the years, the hands of the Kang-an family had soiled her beyond recovery. She could no longer be claimed.
A broken toy only brought satisfaction once it was made to disappear by his own hand.
She was nothing more and nothing less than a woman who could be smashed and ruined.
His mind understood this clearly. Strangely, his body kept trying to rebel.
How despicable.
The next morning, Seol-hye woke a little earlier than usual.
As always, she stepped out of her room and opened the living-room curtains wide—only to pull them almost shut again, leaving barely a handspan of gap.
A sudden thought had struck her. What if Kang Tae-yul was standing beneath the pine tree right now? What if he was looking this way?
It was bound to happen eventually. She had spent years preparing her heart for it.
In the three years since she had become a full member of the Kang-an household, Chairman Kang had tried to summon him back from the United States exactly twice more. Both attempts had failed, and each time she had breathed a sigh that wasn’t quite relief.
Perhaps, deep down, she had known she still wasn’t ready to face him.
After he finally returned to Korea and the lights came on again in Lux, that pine tree had gone back to being nothing more than a distant piece of scenery no one visited.
She stood staring blankly out the window, lost in thought. Just as she reached to close the curtains again—worried he might actually appear—a vivid rainbow caught her eye at the edge of the sky. Traces of rain lingered everywhere; the timing was perfect.
“Pretty.”
The innocent exclamation slipped out on its own. The corners of her mouth lifted softly. Without a trace of makeup, her face glowed.
She looked like a girl again.
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. The colors weren’t sharply distinct from this distance, but she knew that if she could get closer, they would reveal their full seven hues.
Suddenly she thought how much it resembled him.
The Tae-yul of the past had been exactly like that rainbow—seven vivid, unmistakable colors for her. At least until that incident twisted everything.
Nine years had already passed. Unless she could return to that time and stand before him again, she would never see or touch that rainbow again.
The murderous smile he had occasionally given her—not gentle, but breathtaking.
The sincerity she had felt in his smooth hand, cold to the touch yet somehow warm.
That fluttering excitement now lived only in the far reaches of memory. She could neither expect it nor wish for it.
She gritted her teeth and tried to resign herself.
Starting tomorrow she would share every single move with him. She needed to protect herself.
Even when he opened his mouth and poured out words of shocking crudeness, she would keep her heart tightly shut so none of it could take root.
She stood there for a long time, mesmerized by the rainbow that felt like the first she had seen since childhood, lost in thought.
Then a figure appeared, standing as if it had been there all along, filling her entire field of vision.
Even from a distance she could tell: the tall frame, the exceptional physique obvious from behind. Kang Tae-yul.
The man who could still make her heart race.
The man she clearly had not been able to erase.