Seo Tae-joon had leaned over her to shield her, and now his face was impossibly close. He had one hand braced on the driver’s seat, the other arm blocking the steering wheel, caging her in. Ji-woo stared into his brown eyes. His gaze drifted down to her lips. She realized she was holding her breath.
“What is this about getting an ID all of a sudden?” she asked, her voice tight.
He remained silent. “Seo Tae-joon?” she pressed.
“I want to get a job,” he said, his eyes finding hers again. They locked. Ji-woo felt a prickle of sweat on her forehead and the back of her neck. “Even without my memory, I can still work. I can use my body.”
A sharp beep from the car behind them shattered the moment. He finally pulled back, retreating to his own seat.
“I want to get a phone and open a bank account,” he continued, as if nothing had happened. “So I can start working.”
Ji-woo’s heart began to hammer against her ribs. This was a very bad sign.
“He’s recovering well.” The doctor craned his neck, peering at the computer monitor. The screen was a chaotic scramble of EEG graphs and figures that meant nothing to Ji-woo. He swiveled in his rolling chair to face her.
“It looks like it’s true,” he said. “Whether or not Ms. Han Ji-woo is present directly impacts the patient’s sleep patterns. It’s likely a psychological issue, and there could be a number of reasons for it.”
Ji-woo had been trying to deny this for days. With the doctor's confirmation, the truth left her with nowhere to hide.
“The fact that the patient only remembers your face, Ms. Han Ji-woo, could be a hint.”
Through the transparent wall of the observation room, Seo Tae-joon lay on a bed in a patient’s uniform, dozens of sensors affixed to his scalp. As they watched, he stirred. His hand groped the empty space beside him as if searching for her, and then his gaze swept across the room until it found her through the glass.
“This is just a guess on my part,” the doctor continued, “but it’s possible the patient suffered some extreme shock before the accident—”
Who? Seo Tae-joon? Ji-woo thought, bewildered. I’m the one who suffered an extreme shock.
The doctor paused. “Or, it’s possible he was, in a sense, hypnotized while he was in his vegetative state.”
“What?” Ji-woo frowned, confused.
“He doesn’t remember it consciously, of course. But his brain may have been accumulating everything he heard while he was unconscious for those two years.” The doctor crossed his arms, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“Because right after he woke up, the patient said something very specific.” His dark eyes met hers. “‘Please don’t wake up.’ I suspect Mr. Seo heard those words, or something similar, many times while he was in his coma.”
The words struck Ji-woo like a physical blow. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap and lowered her head, her pulse roaring in her ears. It was suddenly hard to breathe. While Seo Tae-joon had slept, she had been there, constantly whispering to him, begging him to sleep forever, to never wake up.
“That… that Sleeping Beauty syndrome—”
“You mean Kleine-Levin syndrome.”
“Yes, that. Is it curable?”
“There’s no specific treatment. For now, I believe your role, Ms. Han Ji-woo, is the most important factor in his recovery.”
An indescribable weight settled in her chest. Did my words really reach him? Did they shape his thoughts? Why did she feel so guilty? He had tried to kill her. A shadow fell across her features. Her fear of him was justified, earned through terror. That was reason enough to wish he’d never woken. And yet, guilt gnawed at her.
“Have you noticed anything strange about the patient?” the doctor asked, taking off his white coat. “This syndrome is often accompanied by symptoms like aggression, hypersexuality, or general behavioral abnormalities. Have you seen any of this at home?”
Ji-woo’s nerves frayed. Too many examples flooded her mind. “Behavioral abnormalities and hypersexuality?”
“Well, not every patient exhibits these signs, but most do. If you notice anything, please let me know,” the doctor said. “It would be difficult to live with someone like that.”
Ji-woo thought of his behavior at home. “What kind of behavioral abnormalities?”
“Hm… anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes it manifests as intense emotional swings, excitability, impulsiveness, or an increased sexual desire.”
Ji-woo realized with a sickening lurch that the doctor’s description was a perfect fit. He had smashed the second-floor door. He had bitten a live chicken, killing it with his teeth. He had relieved himself against a wall, then turned and kissed her without warning. He had even scaled a 30-meter tree without any equipment.
And whenever Hwang Jo-yoon had so much as said her name, Seo Tae-joon's reaction had been violently aggressive. She had thought it was just his brutal nature. But if the doctor was right… what if his terrifying actions were just symptoms of his illness?
Ji-woo didn’t know what to think. The doctor walked to the glass and tapped it lightly. Inside, the medical staff began to remove the sensors from Seo Tae-joon’s head. The doctor watched him carefully as he sat up.
“There is no patient who doesn’t rely on his medicine.”
Ji-woo, who had been staring at her feet, lifted her head.
“The patient knows he needs you, Ms. Han Ji-woo. I am certain he will cling to you, even develop an obsession with you… that could last for years. Are you prepared for that?”
The doctor’s gaze was piercing, as if he could see right through her. Ji-woo forced herself to remember that this man was just a puppet on Seo Ki-seok’s strings. She couldn’t afford to show him any of her fear, no matter how much it choked her.
“I find I sympathize with the patient more,” the doctor murmured, tilting his head. “Because for the rest of his life, he will have to beg you for everything.”