Her first meeting was with a man older than herself, the owner of a small bookstore.
Ji-woo studied him from under her lashes, feigning a casual air. A pleasant smile seemed fixed on his face as she spoke. He listened with an earnest attentiveness, his gaze locked on hers as if she were his most valued customer. He was, she had to admit, very thoughtful.
“What is your favorite tree, Ji-woo?”
The question showed a surprising emotional intelligence. He was exactly the sort of kind, considerate man she’d always wished Seo Tae-joon could be. Someone gentle and…
No. Ji-woo gave a faint, almost imperceptible shake of her head. She had to stop thinking about him. She hadn't come all this way just to let her thoughts drift back to Seo Tae-joon.
Pushing the intrusive thought aside, Ji-woo focused on the man sitting across from her. “I like spruce,” she answered.
“I’ve heard of them. Aren’t they the trees often used to make musical instruments?”
“That’s right.” Ji-woo smiled.
“Is there any particular reason you like them?”
Ji-woo paused for a moment. “It’s tied to a childhood memory, I think. And I’ve always liked the name,” she said with a slight shrug.
“Oh?” The man tilted his head, intrigued.
Ji-woo raised her teacup to her lips. “There was a small tree on the mountain behind the house where I grew up.”
He listened politely, his attention unwavering. She smiled at the memory. “It was a small tree, but its leaves grew so densely that it cast a perfect circle of shade. I used to sit beneath it all the time. This might sound strange, but whenever I did, I could hear music drifting from somewhere far away. A faint melody would reach me whenever I leaned back against the trunk.” A wistful smile touched her lips.
“Are you sure you weren't just dreaming?”
Mi-sook had said the exact same thing. Ji-woo had even dragged her up the mountain once to prove it, but on that day, the forest had been embarrassingly silent.
“It was real,” Ji-woo insisted.
She had climbed the mountain alone the next day, and the melody had returned, drifting toward her as if it had been waiting. It was then she realized the tree only sang for her when she was alone.
“Was it a spruce tree?”
“No, it wasn't.” Ji-woo shook her head. “I don’t remember clearly what it was. When I went back to visit years later, the entire area had been cleared for redevelopment.” Her voice was flat, but a deep longing flickered in her eyes.
“I called it the ‘tree that sings alone’. Later, I learned that some people call spruce trees by that same name. So, I started calling it spruce, too.”
“It sounds like something from a fairytale,” the man said with a soft smile.
Bzzzz. Bzzzz.
His phone vibrated against the table. The man glanced at the screen, and the warmth on his face instantly vanished.
“It’s all right. You can take it.”
He thanked her and answered the call. “Yes, Ji Soo…”
The calm, attentive man from moments before was gone. He shifted in his seat, his gaze darting anxiously out the window as his eyes grew moist.
“Did you feed the baby? What about his medicine? I bought porridge. Why didn’t you give him that first?”
Ji-woo watched him from the corner of her eye, taking a slow bite of her cake.
“Well then… I’ll stop by on my way home.” He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and sighed. “Don’t say that! I told you.” His voice rose, his teeth gritted as he fought to restrain himself.
Ji-woo took another forkful of cake, wondering what could possibly be wrong.
“Don’t mind my mother.”
So his mother was involved, too.
“What do you mean this is none of my business? We’ve known each other since middle school!” the man said, his voice thick with frustration. “If he’s your child, he’s my child, too.”
As the conversation spiraled, the sweet cake in Ji-woo’s mouth suddenly tasted cloying and artificial. With each passing second of the call, the man before her seemed to transform. She took one last bite, her eyes fixed on the stranger he was becoming.
Mi-sook, you won’t believe this, she thought. His logic was so twisted, he probably couldn’t even see it. Considerate on the surface, but underneath… something was deeply wrong. He was out.
Inside the small township office, the clerk sitting by the window fumbled with a stack of documents, the papers scattering as a tall, handsome man walked through the door.
His gaze swept across the room before finally settling on her.
“Hello,” the clerk managed, her voice tight with nerves. “How can I help you?”
Seo Tae-joon stood in silence for a moment, as if lost in thought, before his expression settled. He raised an eyebrow slightly. “I’m here to check on a family relationship certificate.”
His voice was perfectly flat, devoid of any emotion.