Something was wrong. The past two weeks played on a loop in Ji-woo’s mind, a dizzying reel of stolen boats, rammed ships, and the unyielding strength of Seo Tae-joon’s embrace. The sight of the carnage he’d left in his wake still haunted her. She felt like someone terrified of the ocean, forced to stand at the water's edge, flinching every time a wave crashed over her feet.
“Mi-sook, I need you to check something for me,” Ji-woo said.
“What is it?” Mi-sook asked, looking up from her work, her magnifiers perched on her nose.
“Normal men. Do you know any? Please, introduce me to one.”
Mi-sook blinked. “Introduce you? Did I hear you correctly?”
Ji-woo rubbed her face, a gesture of pure exhaustion. “Didn’t you say Director Han’s son was interested in a date?”
“Director Han, are you serious?” Mi-sook placed a hand on Ji-woo’s forehead, but there was no fever.
“Mi-sook, have you ever heard of the misattribution of arousal?” Ji-woo asked. “It’s a theory. It says that if you meet someone on a precarious suspension bridge, you’ll feel more attracted to them than if you met on solid ground. You mistake the thrill and fear of the situation for the excitement of romance.”
Her heart always hammered against her ribs when she was with Seo Tae-joon in a crisis. Whenever something terrible happened, he was there. She had to know if what she felt was real, or just a byproduct of terror.
Ji-woo gripped Mi-sook’s arms, her eyes wide with desperation. “So, please. Normal men. As many as you can find.”
It was the memory of that day, two weeks ago, that fueled her current panic. Ji-woo remembered the anxiety churning in her stomach as the police approached, the fear of what would happen if they were taken to the station.
Seo Tae-joon had no identification on him. Without a resident registration number, a fingerprint check could unearth his violent, frightening criminal record. It could also reveal that they weren’t married at all, just two single people caught in a lie.
As Seo Tae-joon held her, refusing to let go, Ji-woo’s mind raced, desperately trying to formulate a plan. It made her sick to be so deceptive, but the thought of being caught was so much worse.
An officer tried to separate them, but Seo Tae-joon’s grip only tightened around her shoulders, crushing her cheek against the unyielding wall of his chest.
“Seo Tae-joon,” she mumbled into his shirt. “We should call your brother.”
The strength bled from his arms, and then his full weight slumped against her. Seo Tae-joon was collapsing. Ji-woo struggled to support his upper body.
“Seo Tae-joon!”
“Ji-woo…” he groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead as he fought to stay conscious. “Let’s… go…”
She staggered under his weight, and the police officers rushed forward to help.
“We’ll come with you!” Ji-woo shouted to them. “Just get us to a hospital first!”
They were rushed to the emergency room in the back of a police cruiser. A doctor saw to Seo Tae-joon immediately. The bullet had only grazed his thigh, but the bleeding needed to be stopped.
“He’ll need to be admitted for a while,” the doctor informed her.
Ji-woo looked at Seo Tae-joon on the gurney. His lip was split, his body was covered in wounds, and his cheeks were swollen and bruised. His eyes were nearly swollen shut. He looked as if he’d just lost a brutal boxing match.
“His body needs to rest,” the doctor continued. “His temperature, pulse, and blood pressure are all dangerously low. I’d recommend putting him into an induced sleep to give his body a chance to recover.”
“For how long?” Ji-woo asked.
“Three or four days, most likely. Then we’ll reassess.”
Ji-woo nodded, and they wheeled Seo Tae-joon away to a room. She then accompanied the officers to the station alone, determined to prove she wasn’t a smuggler. After handing over the photographs of the drug farm and cooperating with every question, they let her go with nothing more than a fine for vandalism. A wave of relief washed over her; they wouldn’t need to question Seo Tae-joon.
When she finally returned home, sleep was impossible. She wasn’t used to the profound silence of the house. A chill crept over her skin, though the sweltering summer heat still lingered in the air. Ji-woo tried the sofa, then her bed, even wandering up to the second floor, but the sleepless night stretched on. It was bizarre; after everything she’d been through, she should have been dead on her feet. All she could feel was the adrenaline still thrumming through her veins.
Curling up on the sofa, she couldn’t stand it any longer and made a call.
“Mi-sook, it’s Ji-woo,” she said when a faint hello answered on the other end.
“What time is it?” Mi-sook’s voice was thick with sleep.
“Three in the morning.”
“Oh my god! Why are you calling so late? Why aren’t you sleeping?” But even the sound of Mi-sook’s voice couldn’t fill the oppressive emptiness of the house.
Ji-woo’s gaze drifted around the living room. Everything was infused with Seo Tae-joon. Everywhere she looked, she saw traces of him: the cup he’d been drinking from, the dumbbell he used for his exercises, the cushion he’d leaned against. The sight of it all was infuriating.
After explaining everything that had happened to Mi-sook, she said, “I’m not going to wake Seo Tae-joon up tomorrow.” Ji-woo chewed on a nail, hugging her knees to her chest. “There’s no reason to wake him this time, but for some reason, I just keep wanting to.”