The world outside was dark. For some people, though, the sky turned gloomy long before the sun had set.
Ji-woo watched the man beside her, his body trembling with sobs that could only belong to a nightmare. By day, Seo Tae-joon was aggressive, wily, and intense. But each night, he became as vulnerable as a lost child.
“Go,” Seo Tae-joon whispered, his breath catching in a ragged gasp.
Ji-woo remained silent, staying by his side.
“I’ll come…” he murmured, the rest of his words dissolving into an indecipherable whisper.
Fresh tears escaped his closed eyes, and Ji-woo gently wiped them away, her own expression carefully neutral. Her heart grew heavy whenever she witnessed his nights. Why was this man carrying such a deep well of sorrow?
One night he seemed to be searching for someone, the next he was hiding, the next he was running away. Why?
Ji-woo stood up, unable to bear the sight of his trembling lips any longer. His pain was affecting her deeply. But for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to leave him alone tonight.
She quietly slipped out of the room and went downstairs. The familiar office air, thick with the scent of soil and herbs, was stale. Piles of clutter had gathered on every surface.
She opened one drawer after another, rummaging through the contents of each. Finally, her hand emerged clutching an old CD. A glimmer of satisfaction lit her eyes.
That CD had been the first gift she’d ever received from someone special. The memory was tied to her first tree.
Her fingers brushed against the familiar scratches on the back of the old CD case. It was a classical album. She jotted down one of the titles in her phone's notepad before carefully placing the disc back in the drawer.
Her footsteps were light as she returned upstairs. She lay down beside Seo Tae-joon again and played the music from her smartphone.
[Bach: Suite for Cello Solo No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1007 – 1. Prélude]
In the quiet room, lit only by a small bedside lamp, the sound of his weeping mingled with the cello's melody, both absorbed into the night like moonlight.
Listening to the music she had missed for so long, Ji-woo prayed that Seo Tae-joon would finally fall into a deep, peaceful slumber.
For the first time in a long while, the moon and stars bore witness as the man’s tormented cries began to soften.
“You just have to go and smile!”
“But I still don’t want to.” Ji-woo frowned, turning her head away.
Mi-sook shook the evening dress, still encased in its vinyl garment bag, and glared at her.
Today was the 40th-anniversary celebration for Joorim Seedling Park Limited, an agricultural corporation.
For anyone in the agriculture or forestry industries, Chairman Lim was a living legend. He had been a pillar of the region for years, and Mi-sook was adamant that Ji-woo pay her respects.
Ji-woo, however, was opposed. Her objection had everything to do with the dress Mi-sook was holding.
As if reading her mind, Mi-sook spoke first. “Don’t you start! It’s not revealing, and it looks lovely.” Mi-sook was well aware of Ji-woo’s preference for covering herself completely and had been extremely careful in her selection.
It was an elegant mermaid-style dress with a square neckline, fashioned from a thick, forest-green fabric.
The material gave it a sophisticated weight. The hem fell to her calves, and the cut was designed to luxuriously accentuate her waist.
Ji-woo looked at it without a word, then simply pointed toward her bedroom. “I have plenty to wear in my closet.”
“Please! Those aren’t clothes, they’re sacks.” Mi-sook’s eyes flashed, a clear sign she wouldn’t back down.
Just then, Seo Tae-joon walked down the stairs.
The black suit highlighted his long legs and the straight line of his shoulders. He wore it with such ease it seemed like a second skin; he didn't fidget with the sleeves or tug at the collar.
His hair fell just below his eyebrows, his tie was undone, and a sliver of white socks showed at his ankles—a disheveled look that was, somehow, utterly dashing. Ji-woo found herself unable to look away.
It was as if she didn’t know this man at all. The man in the shiny black raincoat. The man in loose patient clothes. A strange thought surfaced, unbidden. What if he’s not the real Seo Tae-joon? The idea brought her no comfort.
Mi-sook’s voice shattered her trance. “Well, I’ll just have to trust my son-in-law, then.” She thrust the dress into Seo Tae-joon’s hands.
Seo Tae-joon glanced from the dress to Ji-woo’s pouting face. Understanding dawned, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk.
“I believe in you.”
“Mi-sook—” Ji-woo’s glare was a clear warning, but Mi-sook simply turned her back, feigning ignorance. Her talent for selective deafness was as refined as her wit.
It wasn’t that Mi-sook didn’t understand why Ji-woo insisted on hiding herself. She knew the whole story. Still, she hoped for a change. After waiting for ten long years, she wasn't in a rush, but this felt like the perfect opportunity to start.
Someday, Ji-woo would have to emerge from her cocoon and become a butterfly.
“Ji-woo, you don’t like this?”
She refused to answer.
Seo Tae-joon raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Then I’ll have to use it on this.”
“Use what?”
“My wish.”
“What?”
“Ji-woo, you remember, don't you? You promised you’d grant me one wish. Anything I ask, as long as it doesn't involve me touching you.”
Ji-woo opened her mouth, then closed it. She had nothing to say to that.
“If it weren't for that promise, why would I have stopped? There was so much more of you to lick.”
Ji-woo's mind went blank. His audacity left her completely flabbergasted.