“What can I do?” he asked, his eyes raw with an emotion she couldn’t name. “Tell me what I can do to fix this.”
Ji-woo closed her eyes, drawing a slow, unsteady breath. Seo Tae-joon was offering her a kind of agency she’d never had before in her life.
“Just…” She struggled to slow the frantic beating of her heart. “Just be calm. If you don’t get angry, things won’t get so difficult. I just… I want your syndrome to get better.”
A shadow of frustration passed over Seo Tae-joon’s face. She was so damn stubborn. He made a silent vow then and there: he would shatter the walls she hid behind, one way or another.
“It’s no use. You don’t qualify anyway,” Gyu-baek said, flipping rapidly through the pages of an encyclopedia. He and Seo Tae-joon sat across from each other at a sunlit table, locked in a quiet battle of psychological warfare. Seo Tae-joon rested his chin on his clasped hands, his expression unreadable.
“Only a young monkey like me even has a chance,” Gyu-baek continued smugly.
“I’m sorry to inform you, professor, but humans and monkeys are different species,” Seo Tae-joon retorted, his voice dry.
“They’re both animals. Their habits are similar,” Gyu-baek insisted. “And young monkeys smell good.”
Seo Tae-joon let out a short, disbelieving laugh. The boy was relentless with his monkey analogies. A baby monkey wouldn’t last a day in human society.
“People might think I smell bad, but I assure you, professor, I wash thoroughly.” He had to stop indulging this. “In human society, young men aren’t exactly in high demand.”
He held up a hand, ticking off the reasons on his fingers. “You have no savings, you’re too busy just trying to survive, you have no real-world experience, you lack maturity, you have no sense of responsibility…”
“But you don’t have any money, either,” Gyu-baek cut in. Seo Tae-joon froze, staring at the boy. “You don’t have a job. You’re unemployed. You lie around all day. You brag about your past experiences while your wife does all the work. It’s worst of all when a monkey is old and still has nothing.”
Seo Tae-joon felt a throb of fury in his temples. The insults were landing like precision-guided missiles.
“You’ve been living like an insect,” Gyu-baek added, glancing up at him from his book. “You have the same characteristics as a beetle larva: eat, sleep, excrete, and repeat.”
Seo Tae-joon sputtered, a retort catching in his throat, but no words came out. With a sly, triumphant grin, Gyu-baek buried his nose back in his book.
The announcement for the second tournament arrived by email. Ji-woo’s initial excitement curdled into a stern frown as she scrolled through the details.
Last year, five consecutive days of rain had triggered massive landslides from the mountains. A torrent of mud and debris, moving like a tidal wave, had swallowed houses and cars whole. The casualties had numbered in the hundreds. It had been a terrifying disaster.
Approximately thirty houses were swept away entirely, and thousands more lost power. Even living a safe distance from the disaster zone, Ji-woo had needed a backup generator to keep Seo Tae-joon’s medical devices running.
A knot of apprehension tightened in her stomach. The second tournament was to be held in that very region, its goal a rescue mission for trees. The Forest Service would temporarily open the restricted area for the contestants. The objective was forest restoration: to plant as many saplings as possible within a twenty-four-hour time limit. Each contestant could bring one companion. Just reading the description made Ji-woo feel a phantom exhaustion, a drain on a stamina she hadn't even expended yet.
“Ji-woo, didn’t you say you have to visit a patient at five?” Seo Tae-joon’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. He was standing in the doorway of her office, holding a ladle and wearing an apron. Ji-woo stared at him for a blank moment before a shriek escaped her lips and she shot out of her chair.
“Is it that time already?” she panicked, grabbing her things.
“What are you going to do for dinner?”
“I’ll eat something when I get back! You go ahead and eat. And don’t wait up!”
As she rushed for the door, he blocked her path with the ladle. “Take me with you.”
“What?” She didn’t have time for this.
“If you can’t eat with me at home, then take me with you. Put me to work,” he said, his eyes taking on that serious, unnerving quality again. “I’ll be your shovel and your axe.”
The way he spoke of himself as an object, a mere tool, sent a chill down her spine. She didn’t want to hear him talk like that again. It was too close to how she'd first seen him, a man burying another person alive.
“I’d prefer it if you stayed home. Clean, cook, meditate with flowers… whatever you want. Just stay calm. That would be the biggest relief to me.”
Seo Tae-joon’s expression hardened. In his mind, he could hear Gyu-baek’s taunts echoing. “You want me to be a flower?” he said, his voice dropping to a sinister pitch.
Ji-woo flinched. He was seeing right through her attempts to keep him confined to the house.
“I was just wondering if you’d be more comfortable with a submissive husband.”
His face was a placid mask, his eyes deep, unreadable pools of darkness. She couldn’t guess what he was thinking. The only option left was honesty.
“Yes,” she said, her voice firm. “I would.” Seo Tae-joon said nothing. “I just want you to be safe.”
There was no visible reaction, but his expressionless face felt like a storm cloud gathering over her. Their gazes locked in a silent clash. Then, for the first time, Seo Tae-joon conceded—not out of acceptance, but something closer to disgust. He yielded.
“I will,” he whispered.
No matter how she framed it, her goal was to keep him caged. She’d long since abandoned the idea of getting him an ID so he could find a job. Even with his so-called brother holding her hostage, she had no intention of asking for his help. She wanted to eliminate his aggression, to prune him back until he was nothing more than a pretty flower in a pot. A pointless endeavor. He was born an animal. But for now, he would play her game. He smiled.
“Then for today, I’ll pack you a meal,” Seo Tae-joon said, his tone perfectly pleasant.
Ji-woo nodded, clinging to the hope that he was truly trying to do as she asked.
Ji-woo knelt before the blighted tree. Its bark, shredded and peeling, revealed the ruin left by feasting caterpillars. After a final spray of pesticide, she pulled off her latex gloves. The property’s guardian stood nearby, hands shoved in his jacket pockets as he studied her work.
“So, doctor. I’m curious about something…”
“We don’t cut down trees,” Ji-woo interrupted, not looking up. The guardian startled at her abruptness. “Many clients ask. They have this notion that if a diseased tree’s roots grow into a tomb and wrap around their ancestor’s body, the descendants will suffer bad luck.”
She saw the guardian’s gaze flicker to the ancient tombstone beside the tree, his eyes widening slightly as he realized she’d read his mind.
“They want us to destroy trees that have stood for hundreds of years,” Ji-woo continued, her voice weary. “The world still doesn’t understand the value of a single tree.”
She closed her tool bag and adjusted her straw hat. “If you cut this tree down, there will be nothing left to protect the tomb. If your ancestors are that important to you, then maybe you should visit more often and take care of the trees that protect them.”