The man, who had been sitting bolt upright, suddenly buried his face in his hands, his body folding in on itself as if seized by a sudden, sharp pain. He leaned forward, gripping the sides of the narrow table, his knuckles turning white.
“Whenever I think of your ex-husband, I feel nauseous,” Seo Tae-joon said, drawing a sharp line between his current self and the man he was before, as if they were two entirely different people.
Ji-woo recalled finding him crying in his sleep, his sleeves perpetually damp. “Still… aren’t you even a little curious about your past? About what might have happened?”
But Seo Tae-joon just shook his head, his expression rigid. He clearly had no desire to discuss their unhappy marriage, nor did he want her to dredge up painful memories for her own sake. He set his chopsticks down, his gaze falling to the table.
“I know I can’t just run away from him. The past and the present have to share this body,” he said, his voice low. “But I know that man was full of regret. I don’t know the details, but I know he was a stupid bastard who could only ever jump to the worst possible conclusion.”
Ji-woo scratched the back of her neck, trying to quiet the storm of emotions inside her.
“Did that bastard make good money?” he asked abruptly, lifting his head to meet her eyes.
“Um… not really.” Ji-woo averted her gaze.
Seo Tae-joon snorted. “I knew it.”
“You do know you’re talking about yourself, right?” Ji-woo said gently.
“You have a strong sense of responsibility,” he said, ignoring her question. “And sometimes that’s a problem for you. You don’t seem to know when to accept a burden and when to draw a line to protect yourself. Why do you live like that?”
Ji-woo slowly lowered her spoon, his words striking a nerve.
“No more sacrifices,” Seo Tae-joon said, his voice laced with sorrow. “If you’re going to let a man with an empty head and a messy past into your life, you should at least take full advantage of him.”
He offered her a smile, but his eyes were achingly sad and innocent. For a moment, Ji-woo forgot what she’d been about to say, her gaze locked on his.
“I am so sorry for whatever I did in the past,” he said. “I have no memory of it. You’re the only thing in this world that makes me feel human. I can’t even wake up properly if you’re not by my side.”
Ji-woo bit her lip. “But people don’t change that easily.”
“I understand why you can’t trust me. But I have no recollection,” he insisted. “Who are you comparing me to? Do you really think I’m no different from the man I was before?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“If you can’t get that piece of trash out of your head, then I’ll cut off my own dick.”
Ji-woo quickly scooped a spoonful of rice into her mouth. She didn’t know how to respond, but at least the food gave her a momentary excuse not to speak. She couldn’t tell if she was more unsettled by his fierce obedience or by his unwavering faith in her.
“I can be anyone you want me to be, Ji-woo,” he said softly.
Seeing Seo Tae-joon trying so desperately to convince her, Ji-woo had to fight to keep from smiling.
“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” A child had appeared in front of Seo Tae-joon, who was on the floor in the middle of a set of push-ups.
Seo Tae-joon paused and pushed himself to his feet. The boy was so small he barely came up to his waist.
“And who are you, little guy?”
“I’m Lee Gyu-baek. First grade, Willow Tree Elementary School.” The child craned his neck back to look up at Seo Tae-joon, his eyes wide with admiration for the man’s sculpted abs.
Just then, Gyu-baek spotted Ji-woo through a nearby window. He glanced from Seo Tae-joon to the woman outside and back again, then clapped his small hands together in discovery. “I can smell it!” he declared.
“Smell what?”
The child sat down on the floor and pulled a book from his bag, flipping through the pages with urgent purpose. Seo Tae-joon crossed his arms, watching the boy with bemusement.
“Male ring-tailed lemurs secrete floral scents from their wrists to attract females,” Gyu-baek announced after a moment, looking up with eyes that twinkled with absolute confidence. “They try to win their hearts with their smell. That’s what the male smells like right now.”
Seo Tae-joon scratched an eyebrow with his forefinger. “Look, kid, I don’t know who you are,” he said, “but that’s just sweat you’re smelling.”
“The male must be younger than the director.”
“No, she said we’re about the same age.”
“You can’t be,” Gyu-baek said gravely. “You’re in trouble. That means you’ll smell bad.”
“What?”
“It’s a disadvantage. Younger lemurs emit stronger pheromones for longer than older ones do. The older females don’t like the smell.”
Seo Tae-joon stared at the child, momentarily speechless. “The male is in serious trouble,” the boy concluded.
Seo Tae-joon finally let a smile break through, wiping a bead of sweat from his chin with the back of his hand. He wanted to laugh but managed to restrain himself.
“Our director is very popular,” the child informed him.
“How popular?”
“The sawmill carpenter, the nursery dealer, and a reporter from the Ministry of Environment all stop by. They all smell like you.” The child looked him up and down. “The male needs to try harder.”
Just then, the boy’s attention was captured by a line of ants marching near his feet. In that moment, Seo Tae-joon realized who he was. Could this be the little “insect doctor” Ji-woo had told him about?
He crouched down to the boy’s level, balancing on the balls of his feet, and held out a hand. The child took it, his grip surprisingly firm.
“Yes, male lemur,” Lee Gyu-baek said with the air of a tiny CEO. “From now on, you will be my assistant.”