His expression remained flat. Ji-woo knew this mood well; when Seo Tae-joon sulked, he could be insufferable. “The hospital,” she explained softly. “I named it after a tree I loved when I was a child. I was just remembering it.”
That tree had given her a reason to live when, at seventeen, she’d found herself drowning in despair. The memory of the forest was still vivid: the impossible green of the grass, the sunlight dappling the ground as it filtered through the canopy. It was there, in that forest, that Ji-woo had found a singing tree.
It was the only precious, warm memory she possessed from her childhood.
“Since you can’t pawn me off on someone else, have you decided to just escape into your own head?”
Ji-woo opened her mouth to protest, but he gently took her chin, turning her face toward his. She must have drifted off again without noticing. Her own startled expression was reflected in the calm depths of his eyes.
“I can always tell when you’re lost in a memory,” he said.
Ji-woo managed an awkward smile.
“Didn’t you say you were from a conservative family?”
“I am,” she confirmed.
“Then it seems that conservatism only applies to me.” He shook his head slowly. “Am I that boring?”
“What?” Ji-woo asked, taken aback.
“I understand if I’m not much fun to be around,” he said, his gaze fixed on her. “You’re only interested in trees, and I’m obviously not interesting enough to hold your attention.” He stared at her, disappointment clouding his features, then leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes.
He sighed, the sound heavy in the quiet room. “I’d rather be in that coma again,” he murmured. “At least then, you were only thinking of me.”
Ji-woo was speechless, the words catching in her throat.
“When will the day come,” he asked, his melancholic voice landing like a physical blow, “that you can love only me?” Seo Tae-joon opened his eyes and leveled his gaze on her.
She felt the soft pile of the carpet beneath her feet, the warm texture of the sofa, the silent presence of the many potted plants that filled her living room.
A deafening silence fell. Each second stretched into an eternity.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
The vibration of Ji-woo’s phone shattered the heavy silence. Her face hardened as she stared at the screen. With a sharp movement, Ji-woo rose from the sofa.
“Who is it?” Seo Tae-joon asked.
“No one,” she said tightly.
Her fingers trembled as she rejected the call. She dropped her hand to her side, the phone still clutched in her fist. It immediately began to ring again. As Ji-woo glanced down at the screen, Seo Tae-joon leaned across the sofa and snatched the phone from her grasp.
“No!” she cried out. “Seo Tae-joon!”
His brow furrowed as he read the name on the screen: Seo Ki-seok.
Ji-woo lunged for the phone, but he twisted away from her and accepted the call.
“Hello,” Seo Tae-joon said, his voice clipped.
Ji-woo glared at him, horrified, as he switched the call to speaker and placed the phone on the sofa between them. She froze, her mind a complete blank.
“Who is this?” Seo Tae-joon demanded into the silence.
The man on the other end didn’t answer immediately. Seo Tae-joon’s jaw tightened. Who was this bastard who could make Ji-woo look so terrified?
“It’s your brother,” the man finally said. Ji-woo could hear the smirk in his voice, and she flinched.
Seo Tae-joon raised a questioning eyebrow at her, a silent demand for confirmation. Ji-woo gave a slight, jerky nod.
“Well, well, Ji-woo,” the voice purred, smooth and venomous as a striking snake. “How have you been?”
“Hello,” she managed to squeak out.
“I’ve been terribly busy with work, so I haven’t been able to keep in contact,” the man said.
Ji-woo squeezed her eyes shut, wishing this nightmare would end. The timing couldn’t be worse.
One slip, and the entire world she had so carefully constructed would shatter. She would be exposed. Ji-woo bit down hard on her lip.
“I heard the news,” the voice from the phone continued. “I know he woke up… and that he’s not in a normal state.”
Ji-woo risked a glance at Seo Tae-joon.
“But you’re more interesting than I gave you credit for,” the man said.
“I’m sorry? What do you mean?” Ji-woo asked, her stomach twisting with dread.
“To pull something like that,” the voice mused. “How reckless.”
“Well… I…” Ji-woo stammered. Her heart hammered against her ribs so violently she feared it might burst. A flash of memory, unwanted and brutal: the stench of a bloody slaughterhouse, the feeling of her fingers slipping as she clung to the contractor’s hand, dangling over the edge of a cliff.
He knew. He knew about the web of lies she’d woven to tame his brother. He knew everything.
“Of course, I can imagine why you did it,” the menacing voice continued. “Perhaps you didn’t understand the kind of man you were dealing with. But… you’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Ji-woo felt the air leave her lungs. She was about to bury her face in her hands when she felt Seo Tae-joon’s hand gently close over hers. The image of a tall tree, a moonlit night, and a sky full of fireworks flashed through her mind.
“It’s all right,” he said to her, his voice low and firm. “I don’t care. I can’t remember his face, so I’m not about to believe his bullshit. I’m not even curious about my family.” Seo Tae-joon’s expression was dark.
“What are you talking about?” the voice on the phone asked.
What if he just said it? What if Seo Ki-seok exposed everything right now? Ji-woo held her breath, bracing for the inevitable impact. This was going to be a disaster.
“I’m talking about the competition. I heard you’re participating in the bidding?” The voice shifted, the menace dissolving into an unsettling friendliness. “I just wanted to warn you that the screening process might be extremely difficult. They’ll do everything they can to see you fail. You’re the only female director participating, and it’s a big project. They won’t choose some small, unknown hospital unless you show them something truly formidable.”
Ji-woo’s hands fell limply into her lap. She felt dizzy, a strange mix of profound relief and utter confusion. She had been so sure he was about to ruin her. What game was Seo Ki-seok playing?