TUW | CHAPTER 17

Chapter 17

About to Burst.

Dohyun’s gaze shifted between Lee Yeon rummaging through her bag and the photograph of Mijeong.

His thoughts strayed back to that morning.

He had shot up from bed, dragging a large hand down his face.

“Haa…”

His entire body was drenched, the sheets beneath him soaked through with sweat.

Reaching for the glass of water on his nightstand, he downed it in rough gulps, forcing the bile that had risen in his throat back down.

It was always around this time that the nightmares came.

Foul, rotten dreams.

Memories of a past he had no wish to remember.

If Mi-jung were alive, he would have asked her.

Why had she abandoned him so completely as a child?

She hadn’t shown her true face at first.

It must have been around the time he turned seven that she began neglecting the family.

And then—that happened.

That day, Do-hyun had woken in a room swallowed whole by darkness.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the fog clinging to him.

Stumbling out of bed, his not-yet-fully-awake body swayed as he clutched the doorknob and pulled.

Only more darkness greeted him.

But in that void, the faint outline of a staircase appeared.

Rubbing his eyes, he placed one small, growing foot on the first step.

That was when he heard it.

A faint ripple of laughter brushing against his ears.

A man’s laughter, a woman’s laughter intertwined.

Drawn in by the sound, the child followed.

The trail of unfamiliar voices led him to the master bedroom.

And Do-hyun flung the door wide open.

“Who’s there?!”

The child shielded his face, unable to open his eyes against the sudden burst of light.

“…Mom?”

It was a voice he barely heard once a week, if that but Do-hyun recognized it instantly.

“Hey!

What the hell are you doing here?

Why are you at home?”

“Hello.

You must be Do-hyun?”

A young man’s voice followed after his mother’s, casual, even friendly as if he had no guilt whatsoever, greeting him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That memory dragged Do-hyun into nightmares year after year.

A woman who, even after being caught by her own son doing filthy things in bed, scolded him instead for daring to be home.

Mi-jung.

She lived recklessly, burned herself out, and in the end, died in a car accident on her way to a hotel with a man by her side.

Deok-ho said he had truly loved her.

But after Mi-jung’s death, he spiraled, lost, wandering aimlessly through life.

Do-hyun had witnessed it all.

That was when he swore never to marry.

One wrong relationship, one careless choice had shattered an entire family.

And so, on Mi-jung’s death anniversary, no one ever visited.

No one wanted to resurrect those memories.

The scandal had never gone public.

For the sake of Wuseong’s reputation, she was quietly laid to rest in a columbarium.

And there she remained, neglected, forgotten.

Do-hyun still didn’t have the strength to face those wounds.

In the beginning, he’d visited her every year almost in defiance: Look at me now, look at how well I’ve survived and succeeded without you.

But lately, he wondered why.

Why was he still observing her memorial so faithfully?

He was just about to shake off the old nightmares and head home when Yeon suddenly stopped him.

He said he knew what day it was, and asked to come along.

“Shouldn’t I pay my respects too?”

The logic was sound, so Do-hyun relented.

And now here they were.

Yeon rummaged in his bag and pulled something out.

A small object, no bigger than Do-hyun’s palm, held tightly in his delicate hand.

Do-hyun carefully took it from Yeon’s smooth, soft fingers.

Wrapped in beige paper, it was a little bouquet white, lavender, and pink blossoms arranged in gentle harmony.

“They call these preserved flowers,” Yeon explained, his bright eyes sparkling.

“They’re real flowers, specially treated to last.”

Do-hyun looked down at him, watching the earnest way Yeon spoke as if explaining something precious.

The little bouquet, prepared for Mi-jung.

“Sir, this one’s for you to give her.”

Only then did Do-hyun understand.

Yeon reached into his bag again, pulling out another small bouquet, just as carefully as before.

So that was why, even in his sleep, he had clutched that bag so tightly.

From the moment they’d left the house, Yeon hadn’t let it out of his arms, holding it close as if it were something he couldn’t afford to lose.

Even in the car, Yeon had kept the bouquet neatly arranged on his lap, watching over it carefully as though afraid a single petal might be crushed.

“This one… I’d like to give myself.”

A faint smile slowly spread across his face, his round eyes curving into perfect crescents that glimmered with quiet beauty.

It was, without question, the historic day when Do-hyun’s self-control finally snapped.

Have I gone insane?

Because Yeon looked beautiful.

So beautiful that Do-hyun’s hand twitched with the urge to reach out, to touch the curve of those crescent-moon eyes.

His chest tightened, heart pounding hot and relentless, flooding his body with restless heat.

When had it begun this surrender of his gaze, this helpless fixation on Yeon’s eyes?

The freckles scattered across his cheeks had long since vanished from notice.

At some point, Do-hyun had become unwilling to miss even a single blink of those wide, luminous eyes.

And now… he wanted to touch them?

It was madness.

Yet his gaze kept straying to Yeon again and again, unbidden.

There were more days now when Do-hyun left the office glass walls transparent, just to catch sight of him.

At work, he’d find himself glancing up in the middle of a meeting, wondering what Yeon was doing at that very moment.

At home, his ears pricked up instinctively, listening for the sound of him coming through the door.

“Maybe I really am losing it.”

The thought slipped from his lips before he even realized, spoken aloud in a daze of unfamiliar shock.

Yeon, who’d been crouched down smiling as he tidied up, froze.

His eyes widened, and he scrambled upright.

“I’m not crazy!

I bought these flowers to give, not to stick in my hair!”

Apparently convinced the remark had been aimed at him, Yeon planted his hands on his hips and glared up at Do-hyun with all the fierce defiance his round eyes could muster.

“I put a lot of thought into this, coming here to pay respects, you know…”

His voice trailed into a pout, lips pressed tight in stubborn silence and to Do-hyun, it only made him look even more disarmingly cute.

He almost wanted to let the misunderstanding linger, to see just how far this endearing charm could reach, to test just how deep his own feelings already ran.

But in the end, he relented.

“It was just me thinking out loud.

Come on do you really think I’d call Secretary Yoo, who put so much effort into this, crazy?”

At that, Yeon’s expression relaxed instantly, the tension melting from his features.

Do-hyun couldn’t stop the soft chuckle that slipped free.

Another discovery: when Yeon was around, laughter kept bubbling up, unbidden.

Their eyes met again.

Yeon, crouched like a little puppy while gathering his things, suddenly lifted his head, and their gazes collided.

Do-hyun’s eyes scattered, unsettled, as though they’d been caught lingering too long.

Not that I’d ever give this woman flowers myself…

When Yeon finally finished tidying up and stood, Do-hyun’s gaze followed him upward, reluctant to look away.

“For Secretary Yoo’s sake, I’ll leave these.”

Do-hyun opened the glass door and carefully placed the small bouquet inside.

For the first time, he offered flowers at his mother’s shrine under the pretense of Yeon’s insistence.

Yeon followed suit, placing his own bouquet neatly beside Do-hyun’s.

Do-hyun stood behind him, watching in silence as Yeon fixed his gaze upon the urn, lips pressed as if murmuring some private thought.

There wasn’t a single gesture of her that didn’t carry a quiet beauty.

Dressing in a fitted suit she rarely wore, preparing flowers with his own hands, rising early despite her fatigue just to accompany him to the columbarium every choice spoke of sincerity.

And sincerity was precious.

When Do-hyun finally tore his gaze away to look at her face, Yeon’s cheeks were flushed crimson.

“What’s wrong with your face?”

“Wh-what?

Nothing!”

“It looks like you’re about to explode.”

“Vice President… have you finished?

Should we… head back?”

Her sudden flustered rush puzzled Do-hyun, but he didn’t argue.

Perhaps he, too, needed time time to sort through this restless storm inside his chest.

That night, after returning from the columbarium,Lee Yeon barely slept.

He tossed and turned until dawn, finally giving up on sleep altogether.

By the time morning came, he was at the office a full hour earlier than usual.

Better to be productive than lie in bed staring at the ceiling.

Catching his reflection in the mirror, he grimaced. The dark circles beneath his eyes nearly matched the color of his freckles.

“At this rate, my whole face is going to turn black…”

His skin looked dull, lifeless. No—this wouldn’t do.

I can’t let my skin health go down the drain like this!

Balling his hand into a determined fist, Yeon made a silent vow: starting today, it would be one face mask, every night, without fail.

As soon as she set the mirror down, memories of the columbarium flashed across her mind again.

Do-hyun’s face reflected faintly in the glass, those steady eyes locked on her. Just like when she slipped the bouquet into Mi-jung’s niche and caught his reflection in the glass door—just remembering it made Yeon’s cheeks burn all over again.

Why was he staring at me like that? So intently, so shamelessly…

Her heart wouldn’t settle. The image of his gaze kept resurfacing, leaving her no chance to cool down. She gave her head a quick shake, trying to banish the thought.

Bzzz—.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Ha-yul.

[You didn’t forget about this Friday, right?]

Ah! The party.

Between planning her visit to Mi-jung’s columbarium and all the preparations, she had completely forgotten. She hadn’t even braced herself for it yet… and regret hit her hard.

Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to go.

But it was Ha-yul who asked—she couldn’t possibly say no.

[I remember.]

Yeon quickly typed back.

[No need to prepare anything. You and I just need to be ready in spirit!]

Whether that would work or not, she didn’t know. Still, she sent it. And secretly, she wished this week would drag on forever.

“Hello, Secretary Yoo.”

As she was silently praying for time to slow down, a voice interrupted her.

What’s with her all of a sudden?

The syrupy, almost saccharine tone belonged to none other than Yeon-jung. The woman who usually tossed her manners clear across the galaxy was suddenly playing at being warm and sweet.

Changed her concept, has she? Or did Do-hyun’s sharp words the other day actually deflate her?

With thinly veiled distaste, Yeon forced a polite smile.

“Our department has a new recruit, so we came to introduce him to the vice president.”

Only then did Yeon notice the tall man standing behind her.

“Hello, I’m Y

oo Yeon, secretary to the vice pres—”

But she froze, cutting herself off mid-bow. Her head snapped back up, eyes wide.

That tall, well-built man, with his strikingly handsome face—

She knew him.

She definitely knew him.

He stepped forward, lips curving into a bright, easy smile as he inclined his head politely.