Chapter 3
1511 Words
Ji-Hwan stood upright before the mirror in his bedroom, the black suit he wore fitting perfectly against his frame. Yet the reflection staring back at him showed no trace of confidence—only deep dissatisfaction. He stared at himself for a long moment, his jaw tightening.
“Ssibal…” he muttered softly, his voice thick with irritation.
“Aisshi…” His hand lifted, almost slamming into the surface of the mirror. But it stopped at the very last second. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling before he finally looked away.
“Aiss… this is the last time,” he murmured, as if trying to convince himself.
Without looking back again, Ji-Hwan stepped out of the room. This was already the eighth time he had been forced to attend a dinner with clients—people who had purchased paintings from his sister’s gallery.
Pretending to enjoy all of this was never easy. In truth, he hated it.
In every previous meeting, Ji-Hwan had never made any real effort. He would sit for a few minutes, speak only when necessary, then stand up and leave—abandoning the clients with stunned expressions and unspoken questions.
And he didn’t care in the slightest.
From the very beginning, he had set a condition with his sister. The paintings had to be paid for in full first. Only then would he agree to attend the dinner.
But there was one more condition—non-negotiable.
If the clients were dissatisfied with the meeting, they had no right to demand even a single won in return.
___
Inside the taxi, Ji-Hwan scrolled through his phone aimlessly. His fingers moved quickly, yet nothing truly caught his attention. Everything felt empty.
The KakaoTalk app was silent.
No names, no conversations—only messages from his sister.
Ji-Hwan had never been the type who liked making friends. From high school to university, he had only ever had one close friend. Even then, they rarely met, because he wasn’t someone who enjoyed hanging out or wasting time outside.
As for romance, his life was lonelier than most people imagined. He had only experienced it once—back in high school, with a girl who once filled his days with laughter and hope.
But she disappeared after his grandmother’s death.
Gone without a word. Without a trace.
Even now, Ji-Hwan was still searching for her.
He had hired private investigators, one after another, just to obtain even the smallest clue about his former lover—no matter how insignificant.
Not long after, the taxi slowed down and stopped in front of the entrance of a luxurious hotel. Ji-Hwan paid the fare and stepped out.
He straightened his black suit, drew in a slow breath, then walked into the hotel—
with a cold expression, an empty heart, and wounds that had never truly healed.
The moment he entered the hotel restaurant, a waitress immediately approached him. In a polite tone, she asked about his reservation. Ji-Hwan mentioned only one name—the name of someone who was already waiting inside.
“Please follow me, sir,” the waitress said, turning to lead the way.
Ji-Hwan followed behind her, a faint cynical smile curving his lips.
This was already the fourth time he had met one of his sister’s gallery clients at the same hotel.
“Ya… Kang Ji-Hwan.”
A woman’s voice called his name.
Ji-Hwan lifted his head. His eyes narrowed slightly when he saw a young woman waving at him from a table in the corner of the restaurant.
“The table is over there, sir,” the waitress said, pointing toward the woman.
Ji-Hwan walked straight toward the table, his gaze fixed on the woman’s face.
“Ya… Ji-Hwan. Long time no see,” she said with a bright smile.
Ji-Hwan stopped in front of the table. His brows furrowed.
“You know me?” he asked, confused.
“Ya… it’s me, Lee Hae-In. We were in the same class. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”
“Hae-In?” he repeated softly.
She nodded.
Ji-Hwan stared at her for a long moment, trying to piece together blurred memories from the past.
“As far as I remember, the Hae-In I knew… was fat.”
“Ya, ssi—” Lee Hae-In immediately stood up and tapped his shoulder.
“Did you think I’d stay fat forever?” she said with a small laugh.
Ji-Hwan gave a faint smile before pulling out a chair and sitting down.
“How did you end up here?” he asked.
Hae-In sat back down. She took a slow breath before speaking.
“I don’t even know myself. Suddenly, I got a message from the gallery owner asking about the painting payment. It’s not like I didn’t pay—it's just that the transfer needs a few days to reach the recipient’s account.”
She paused, then continued.
“Then she said that if I made the payment, she’d arrange a dinner with a man. At first, I wanted to refuse. But when I heard your name…”
She smiled softly.
“I thought, why not? Maybe the man I’d meet really would be you.”
“But I didn’t see you that night,” Ji-Hwan said.
“The opening night?” Hae-In asked.
Ji-Hwan nodded.
“I didn’t come that night. I came the next day.”
“Ya…” Ji-Hwan slowly shook his head, disbelief clear on his face.
“Look at you now, Hae-In. How could a fat girl back then turn into someone this beautiful?”
Hae-In laughed softly, covering her mouth. Her cheeks flushed, clearly shy at the compliment.
“You’re not bad yourself,” she replied with a smile. “You’ve gotten more handsome. But… is it really necessary to arrange dinners with clients?”
“The gallery belongs to my sister,” Ji-Hwan answered casually. “Some clients buy paintings, but they won’t pay unless I have dinner with them.”
Hae-In grinned, her eyes glinting mischievously.
“So… you’re using your looks to attract clients for your sister’s gallery?”
“Something like that.” Ji-Hwan leaned back slightly. “What about you? What are you doing now?”
“Psychiatrist.”
Ji-Hwan flinched.
“What? Seriously?”
Hae-In nodded slowly.
“I just opened my own clinic here. That’s why I bought the painting.”
“You’ve got a lot of money if you can buy a painting worth 100 million won.” Ji-Hwan teased with a smile.
“Not my money,” Hae-In replied calmly. “My husband’s money.”
Ji-Hwan fell silent for a moment, clearly shocked.
“How long?”
Hae-In raised two fingers.
“Two years.”
“Korean?”
She shook her head.
“Korean-American. What about you?”
“Nothing interesting,” Ji-Hwan replied flatly. “I’m still unemployed.”
“Don’t lie,” Hae-In said.
“I’m not lying. It’s been three years now.”
Hae-In took a slow breath, her expression calm as she accepted his answer.
“Why don’t you just work at your father’s company?”
“I don’t like it,” Ji-Hwan answered without hesitation. “Unless he gives me a high position—then I’ll accept.”
Hae-In shook her head with a small smile.
“Your attitude never changes, Ji-Hwan.”
Then her tone softened slightly.
“What about Ara? Are you still with her?”
The question instantly changed Ji-Hwan’s expression.
“You still remember Ara?” His voice was low, almost a whisper.
“Of course I remember,” Hae-In replied without hesitation.
Ji-Hwan let out a heavy breath. His shoulders dropped slightly, as if carrying a burden he had held for years.
“I’ve been looking for her for a long time, Hae-In. She disappeared after my grandmother died.”
Hae-In fell silent for a moment. Her brows furrowed, clearly trying to dig up old memories.
“After we graduated high school… I met her once,” she said softly.
“Ara was walking alone in the city, like someone who had lost her direction. I tried to help her. I asked her to come home with me, but she refused. She only asked for money.”
“Did she say what it was for?” Ji-Hwan asked, his voice tight.
Hae-In shook her head.
“I gave her ten thousand won. Then she ran away.”
She paused before continuing, her voice growing even softer.
“But that time, Ji-Hwan… Ara looked terrified. Her body was shaking. Like she was being chased by something. I don’t know what the reason was.”
Ji-Hwan slowly rubbed his face, his fingers pressing against his forehead and cheeks, as if trying to calm the storm in his chest.
“As far as we knew, Ara lived with her aunt. Her aunt was a good person,” he said quietly.
“So… what was she so afraid of back then?” Hae-In added softly.
Ji-Hwan lifted his head. His gaze locked onto Hae-In.
“She was afraid of me.”
- Writer
