“Is your memory back?” Ji-woo asked, her whole body trembling in his arms. The question startled him. “Is it?” she demanded, her voice tight with panic.
Fear coiled in Ji-woo’s stomach. The loyal, gentle man she had come to know would never bite her neck with such aggression. This could only mean one thing: the other Seo Tae-joon was back. The monster. The worst possible scenario bloomed in her mind—he could kill her.
“Is your memory back?” Her voice was a distraught, fearful whisper.
The raw terror in her tone finally pierced his haze, bringing Seo Tae-joon crashing back to reality. He froze, his gaze falling from her panicked eyes to the reddening, bruised skin of her neck. A wave of shame washed over him. “No…” he said, his own voice rough. “No, Ji-woo.”
But her eyes reflected only fear and suspicion, a chilling combination that made his blood run cold. She stared at him as if he were a monster, and the look was a mirror showing him the kind of man he must have been. As the last of his heated excitement died, it left only a hollow, bitter guilt in its wake.
“Ji-woo, I’m sorry,” he murmured, raking a hand through his hair and lowering his head. He covered his face with his palms. “I completely lost myself for a moment. I’m so sorry.”
Even as he apologized, questions burned within him. Why would she ask if my memories are back? Just because I touched her? What in God’s name did the old Seo Tae-joon do to her to make her react like this? He took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady himself.
“Ji-woo,” he said, his voice heavy. “We shouldn’t sleep in the same bed tonight.”
“What?”
“Consider it my punishment. I’m giving up my mornings.” He met her wary gaze. “I don’t care if it takes a month or two. Don’t wake me until you can truly forgive me.”
Seo Tae-joon swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. What the hell does he mean by that? Ji-woo watched with wide, uncomprehending eyes as he walked toward the door. A profound sense of relief washed over her—his memory wasn't back, and she would be able to sleep alone. She winced, the sting in her neck a sharp reminder of what had just happened.
Getting out of bed, she hurried after him. “Seo Tae-joon, wait!”
He had already reached the bottom of the stairs, but her urgent cry made him look up. The moment their eyes met, he swore under his breath, a low and vicious curse.
Seo Tae-joon’s jaw was clenched, his lips parted slightly as if he were in pain.
“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Ji-woo asked, confused. She took a step down, but he held up a hand, stopping her.
“Just stay there,” he ordered, his voice strained.
“Why?”
“Because if you come any closer, I won’t be able to let you sleep alone,” he bit out. “So just. Stay. There.”
Ji-woo froze on the step.
“Or do you want to stay and watch the show?”
Her eyes involuntarily dropped to his lower body, where the evidence of his arousal was still starkly visible.
“Does that mean you’re interested?” he taunted, his eyes narrowing.
“What?! N-no!” she stammered, her gaze flying away from him.
“Really?” he pressed. “You looked pretty focused a second ago.”
“I was not,” Ji-woo shot back, her annoyance flaring. “I was just checking the floor. As the owner of this house, I have to keep it clean. I can’t be as careless as some people.”
The excuse sounded flimsy even to her own ears as she pointedly avoided his gaze.
“The floor is fine. For now,” he said, his own voice laced with irritation. “But if you keep me standing here like this, it won’t be for long.”
A hot blush crept up Ji-woo’s neck and flooded her cheeks. Seo Tae-joon clenched his teeth, the sight of her flushed face making his struggle for control that much harder.
He made his decision in an instant. Spinning on his heel, he strode quickly across the first floor. Ji-woo watched him go, momentarily stunned. Then she remembered why she had followed him in the first place.
“Wait!” she called, rushing after him. “If you want to sleep alone, we should switch rooms. Wait, why are you going into my room? Where am I supposed to—”
The sharp click of a lock cut her off. Seo Tae-joon had slammed her bedroom door shut and locked it from the inside. She had never seen him act like this before.
Inside, Seo Tae-joon fought to ignore the sound of her voice. To be surrounded by her scent, in her bed, was a sweet kind of torture—a terrible paradise. He buried his face in her pillow, the fragrance of her filling his senses as he finally sought his own release.
“So is it just you, Mi-sook, and me in this hospital?” Seo Tae-joon had asked once, on their way to the banquet.
“There’s one more person,” Ji-woo had replied. “But he’s more of an insect specialist than a doctor. We haven’t seen him in a while, though. He’s busy with school.”
“Is he a teacher, too?”
“Um… he goes to elementary school.” She hadn’t offered any more than that. Seo Tae-joon would meet him eventually, after all.
The front door suddenly swung open with a bang. “Director!” a young boy’s voice echoed through the house. A backpack, stuffed so full it looked about to burst, was strapped to his small frame, but he strode forward with purpose. In his arms, he carefully cradled a transparent insect box.