Peninsula: From a supporting actor to the best actor in Chungmuro

Chapter 137 Returning from Mount Everest: A Teasing Experience [Bonus Chapter 33 for Monthly Tickets]

Kang Jae-hoon quickly browsed the news.

The content of the press releases was largely the same.

The core message is very clear—

Jessica Jung was unilaterally announced to be leaving the group.

The wording is official, but the information is vague.

But the coldness and suddenness conveyed between the lines made the impact feel like an earthquake even through the screen.

As soon as Kang Jae-hoon finished reading, he thought of Krystal Jung.

He knew what Jessica Jung meant to Krystal Jung.

She was more than just a sister by blood.

He is a role model.

She is the light that Krystal Jung looked up to during her trainee days.

It is her strongest support and psychological pillar in the complex entertainment industry.

Kang Jae-hoon noticed the mixture of pride, dependence, and a little girl's desire to catch up with Krystal's eyes whenever she mentioned her sister.

Even though the two have broken up now.

Even if those delicate connections have been severed.

But upon learning this devastating news concerning her closest loved ones...

I clicked on the Kakao profile picture that I hadn't contacted in a long time.

My fingertip hovered above the input box for a few seconds.

Delete, delete and modify.

finally.

Send a single line of text:
I just received the news up in the mountains. I know this is a big deal for you. I hope... you're okay. I'll be there for you if you need anything.

The message is sent.

The status shows "delivered".

Kang Jae-hoon stared at the screen.

The noisy voices in the coffee shop and the unique Nepalese background music seemed to be blurred.

Time passed by minute by minute.

The screen went dark.

There is no "read" status.

There was no reply.

There was only silence.

Like a pebble thrown into the deep sea.

No response.

Kang Jae-hoon let out a soft breath.

I can't quite say whether it's relief or something else.

He returned to the Kakao main interface.

My gaze fell on another profile picture—

That calico cat that looks just like me.

Click in.

The chat history stopped at the starry sky photo he posted a few days ago.

Kang Jae-hoon also knew that this news was nothing short of a mental earthquake for Yoona.

Girls' Generation for her, and for each of them.

It's much more than just the name of a group.

That was a sacred place forged with seven years of blood, tears and sweat.

It is proof that the nine girls supported each other to reach the top.

Regardless of the reason, Jessica Jung's departure has torn apart their shared life map.

Kang Jae-hoon's finger paused on the screen.

I still sent a few messages:

I saw the news.

【How are you?】

No matter what happens, please remember to take care of yourself.

If needed... I'm here.

Message sent.

The status is also "delivered".

The wait seems to be longer than before.

Kang Jae-hoon picked up the cup of Nepalese milk tea on the table, which had a rather strange taste, and took a sip.

The warm liquid slid down my throat.

He put away his phone and looked up at the gray sky.

The silence of Mount Everest seemed particularly vast and indifferent at this moment.

He recalled the guilt and reluctance towards his family expressed in Park Moo-kook's diary, and this, along with the pain of being forced to sever ties with the group he was currently experiencing, strangely resonated with him on some level.

These are all unbearable burdens in life.

……

Yoona's phone screen was lit up.

The screen remained on the message that Kang Jae-hoon had finally delivered after several twists and turns.

Her pale face was reflected in the makeup mirror.

Those doe eyes that are always brimming with laughter—

At this moment, it's as if a layer of icy mist has been shrouded in my eyes, and I stare blankly at my reflection in the mirror.

The whispers of the surrounding staff, the public relations instructions coming from the agent on the phone, and the pain of having a piece of my heart forcibly torn out... all mixed together.

She clicked on Kang Jae-hoon's profile picture.

She looked at his brief greeting, which carried the chill of distant snow-capped mountains, but did not reply.

Say what?

Say "I'm fine"?
That's a lie.

Say "I'm very sad"?
This is of no use.

It would only make him, who was far away in a desperate situation, worry.

finally.

She simply turned off her phone screen and placed it face down on the dressing table.

A profound sense of powerlessness coupled with the professional obligation she had to maintain a facade of dignity.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

When she opened her eyes again, she looked in the mirror and tried her best to force a standard smile that she had practiced a million times—the smile that belonged to "Girls' Generation's Yoona."

Although the smile didn't reach his eyes at all.

……

When the return flight landed at Gimpo Airport, Seoul was shrouded in a gray autumn rain.

The air was damp, cold, and sticky.

Jin Dayuan was waiting at the exit early.

When he saw the two people walking out of the crowd, his eyelids twitched violently.

"my God!"

Jin Dayuan turned the steering wheel, his eyes scanning the two gentlemen in the back seat through the rearview mirror:
"Did you guys go mountaineering in Nepal, or mining on Mars?!"

In the back seat.

Kang Jae-hoon's skin tone went from that of a Seoul city dweller to that of a Himalayan mountain dweller—

Between a weathered saffron and a deep tan, several small red marks and slight peeling from strong ultraviolet rays and cold winds were clearly visible on his face and the back of his hands, and a bluish shadow of lack of sleep settled under his eyes.

Kang Jae-hoon touched his rough, taut cheeks and muttered:

"It's not that exaggerated... I just got some sun."

He turned to look at Huang Zhengmin beside him.

I'm looking for some sense of belonging.

The results showed that the wind, snow, and lack of oxygen on the plateau had left even deeper marks on the teacher's face.

In addition to natural wrinkles and fatigue, she looked much more haggard than when she left.

Hwang Jung-min didn't miss the fleeting "comparison brings comfort" expression on Kang Jae-hoon's face.

"What are you looking at, you brat!"

Hwang Jung-min lifted his foot and kicked Kang Jae-hoon's shin through the gap between the seats, neither too hard nor too soft.

Jin Dayuan quickly tried to smooth things over:

"With Jae-hoon's complexion and condition, he's exactly like the otaku Park Moo-soo described in the script after being ravaged at high altitude! We can even save money on a makeup artist! When we meet Director Lee Seok-hoon later, this image alone will earn him a perfect score!"

……

The car drove towards the CJ Entertainment Building in the autumn rain.

Director Lee Seok-hoon is already waiting.

There were no unnecessary formalities.

In the studio.

The heavy glass windows blocked out the sound of rain outside.

Kang Jae-hoon sat down with his "ready-made" Park Moo-soo otaku face.

Director Lee Seok-hoon first exchanged a few pleasantries with Hwang Jung-min.

His gaze quickly fell on Kang Jae-hoon's face.

A hint of undisguised surprise and satisfaction flashed across his eyes.

Without wasting any time, he went straight into the script discussion, focusing on Park Moo-taek's core values ​​and his vision for the disaster scenes.

Although Jiang Zaihun's voice was a little hoarse from the dry cold of the high altitude and the fatigue of the return journey, his thoughts were clear and his understanding was accurate. In particular, when he talked about the sense of insignificance, oppression, and awe he felt on the brink of life and death at Everest Base Camp, his eyes were especially sincere.

The atmosphere went smoothly.

The initial agreement has been finalized.

At last.

The assistant placed the prepared contract in front of Kang Jae-hoon.

Black and white.

The salary figure is clear: 1 million Korean won.

For an actor who is not a complete newcomer but plays an important supporting role in a mainstream big production (strictly speaking, one of the two male leads), considering his previous "troublemaker" label and the villainous effect in "Veteran".

This price was a pleasant surprise in 2014.

Kim Dae-won grinned silently to himself, making a gesture under the table that seemed to say, "Sign! Sign quickly!"

Kang Jae-hoon picked up the pen.

Fingertips touched the smooth paper.

——Pu Wu Zhai.

The chill of Mount Everest and the heavy sense of mission in my chest seemed to be calling me back.

The sound of the pen tip gliding across the paper was very soft.

Yet it weighs as much as a thousand pounds.

Next to the number one hundred million.

It was his signature.

A brand new beginning.

……

After signing the contract, I came out.

The rain was still falling lightly.

The car rejoined the evening rush hour traffic in Seoul.

Jin Dayuan skillfully navigated around the congested areas, his mouth never stopping:

"Wow, the entertainment industry has been in complete chaos while you guys were gone!"

He counted on his fingers:
"Lee Byung-hun is in trouble! He was blackmailed by two women with recorded conversations, and they spilled all sorts of dirty words... Now he's in a terrible mess, his image is completely ruined! His agency's stock price has plummeted!"

"Lee Soo-man's mother... oh no, Lee Soo-man's wife just finished her funeral..."

"And Girls' Generation...tsk tsk tsk."

Kim Dae-won glanced at Kang Jae-hoon through the rearview mirror, saw him leaning against the car window with his eyes closed, and continued:
"Jessica's departure from the group has caused a huge uproar! Fans online are going crazy, and all sorts of negative rumors are flying around... I reckon..."

Jin Dayuan continued in a somewhat mysterious tone:

"Just like the Sewol ferry disaster! They're definitely trying to cover up some bigger political scandal and divert public attention!"

Kang Jae-hoon kept his eyes closed.

He only gave a vague "hmm" in response to these internal earthquakes.

Everything Kim Dae-won mentioned seemed like something that happened in another parallel world.

Lee Byung-hun's depravity is far removed from his own.

He could not truly understand Lee Soo-man's sorrow.

As for the turmoil of her teenage years...

How is Yoona doing now?

Her doe eyes always seemed to be smiling.

Is your heart filled with exhaustion and sadness right now?
The thought, like a tiny vine, began to silently coil around me.

Kang Jae-hoon opened his eyes.

The halo of light from the streetlights outside was spun into blurry patches by the windshield wipers.

He took out his phone.

Click on Kakao.

Find that familiar calico cat avatar.

The inquiry sent a few days ago seems frozen in time, with the status clearly displayed:
Have read.

But there was no response.

Not a single word was spoken.

There isn't even a single emoji.

There was only a deathly silence.

This deliberate silence was even colder than the wind on Mount Everest.

Kang Jae-hoon suddenly recalled the time when he was most deeply affected by the character of Jo Tae-oh on the set of "Veteran," when he could hardly distinguish between reality and acting, and when he was gloomy and irritable.

What did Lee Sung-kyung do?

She didn't send a message to comfort her.

I didn't call to comfort her.

Instead, he carried a thermos filled with piping hot ginseng chicken soup directly to the film set.

Although most of the flavor of that soup ended up in Hwang Jung-min's stomach.

But that warm and concrete concern offered directly during the character's most painful struggle...

Isn't that more powerful than shouting ten thousand words across the distance?
but……

Go find her?
Should we go directly to that upscale apartment in Cheongdam-dong?

This idea made Kang Jae-hoon feel a strange heat and hesitation.

Identity.

distance.

And... Lee Sung-kyung.

Could this almost reckless action be considered another form of...crossing the line?
Or rather... disturbing you?
The scales of my heart swung violently between a sense of morality and overwhelming concern.

Reason tells me: Don't go. Let her have some peace and quiet.

The sentiment is: She needs someone to support her.

Reason tells me: From what standpoint are you going to do this? ...The father of the calico cat?

The sentiment is: Just go and take a look! Just... see if she and the cat are alright!
The entanglement is like the continuous rain outside the car window, intricate and unresolved.

The rain seemed to be getting heavier.

Raindrops began to pound against the roof of the car.

The neon lights of Seoul cast long, bizarre shadows on the wet streets.

Just as the car was about to cross the fork in the road—

Turn right, and you'll find the way back to Seongsu Cave.

Turn left, and you'll find the path to Cheongdam-dong.

Kang Jae-hoon looked at the arrow on the signpost pointing to "Gangnam" and "Cheonggam-dong".

It felt like something had suddenly poked me in the back.

The lingering concerns in my mind were dispelled by a sudden, inexplicable impulse—

I can’t control that much anymore!
"elder brother!"

Kang Jae-hoon's voice rang out somewhat abruptly.

"Hmm?" Jin Dayuan responded subconsciously.

"Go to Cheongdam-dong."

Kang Jae-hoon stared at the rain streaks continuously dripping down the car window, his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly.
"I'm not going home. I'm going to Cheongdam-dong right now!"

"go……"

"Look at the cat!"

Jin Dayuan paused for a moment while holding the steering wheel.

He glanced intently at Kang Jae-hoon through the rearview mirror—

His gaze was complex, a mixture of understanding and sympathy.

Jin Dayuan made a steady turn of the steering wheel.

The wheels slid into the left lane.

In the rain, black minivans merged into the traffic heading south.

After a short silence.

Jin Dayuan's deep, slightly cautionary voice rang out against the backdrop of the sound of rain:
"Okay. Let's look at cats then. But..."

He paused.

I glanced at Kang Jae-hoon again in the rearview mirror:
"Don't forget to let your 'lioness' know."

Jiang Jae-hoon: “…”

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The light from the bustling traffic below the apartment building in Cheongdam-dong casts fragmented reflections on the wet ground.

Kang Jae-hoon stood before the smooth mirror of the elevator car, gazing at the weathered figure reflected within. His hesitation lasted only two seconds, a brief pause before his fingertips touched the cold keypad. He pulled out his phone and sent another message to Im Yoon-ah:
I'm downstairs, trying to see the cats.

Almost at the same time.

Fingertips were already on the combination lock—

Beep beep. Beep beep beep.

070805.

"Click——"

The door lock opened with a click.

The signature peach scent, belonging to Yoona's private space, gently enveloped her once again.

Kang Jae-hoon leaned out of the door frame and peeked inside.

The living room was brightly lit.

The huge floor-to-ceiling windows reflect the lights and neon signs of Jiangnan outside.

That slender figure was nowhere to be seen.

The tension in his heart seemed to ease a little, but it was quickly replaced by a faint sense of disappointment at having come up empty-handed.

Look down.

The floor of the entryway.

The light beige women's slippers that belonged to Yoona are gone.

And on the side.

His signature dark gray men's slippers were still neatly placed there, the toes pointing inwards towards the door.

at home?

Kang Jae-hoon silently closed the door behind him.

Change shoes.

Stepping onto the soft carpet—

An empty sofa.

The remote control on the coffee table remained in the same position.

The kitchen countertops were spotless. The only difference was...

The wicker cat bed in the corner of the balcony is now empty.

What about the calico cat?

He walked in quietly.

The bedroom door was ajar.

Soft, warm light, not typical of overhead lighting, seeped out from under the door.

It was very quiet inside.

(In the bedroom?)
Kang Jae-hoon stopped two steps away from the doorway.

Countless possibilities flashed through my mind in an instant—

Change clothes?
Fell asleep?
He felt inexplicably thirsty.

This sense of uncertainty—being so close yet blocked by the door—made his throat tighten.

He raised his hand to knock on the door.

My fingertip hovered half a centimeter above the door panel, then abruptly stopped.

He remained stiffly in that ridiculous pose.

Like a statue nailed to the bedroom door.

The sound of rain could be faintly heard through the French windows.

Just as Kang Jae-hoon was hesitating between leaving a note or quietly leaving—

A very slight sound.

The bedroom door in front of me...

A gap was opened from the inside.

Warm yellow light poured out like flowing water.

Lim Yoona stood in that warm light.

She wore a soft, light gray long-sleeved pajamas outfit, her hair casually tied back with a few stray strands falling around her cheeks. Her face was bare of makeup, and her skin had a pale, bloodless appearance.

Those doe eyes, which were always bright and full of gentle smiles, were now filled with spiderweb-like red blood vessels. Beneath their eyelids, two undeniable, bluish-gray shadows of weariness shone through.

It was as if some kind of energy and spirit had been drained from him.

It revealed a vulnerable inner self that had never been shown to anyone before.

She was holding a small ice pack in her hand—

She was obviously applying an eye mask just now.

They looked at each other unexpectedly.

The air froze for a moment.

Yoona clearly hadn't expected anyone to be standing at the door. Her fingers tightened suddenly as she gripped the ice pack, and her pupils dilated slightly in surprise.

A few seconds of silence.

Im Yoona was the first to regain her senses, her eyelashes fluttering very slightly, then lowering and then lifting again:
"...You...why are you here?"

The words were spoken to Kang Jae-hoon.

But his gaze fell somewhat blankly on the pattern of the carpet by the door.

Looking at her suppressed exhaustion and vulnerability, Kang Jae-hoon felt as if his heart was being gripped tightly by a hand. He wanted to say, "The cat said it missed me," or "I texted you," but these excuses seemed pale and powerless in the face of such overwhelming weight.

finally.

He took just one small step forward, shortening the perceived distance created by the crack in the door.

"I just got back... and I wanted to... come see you."

Looking at his face, which had become even more resolute and defined by the high altitude, and at the undisguised concern in his eyes—

The concern stemmed not from her own involvement in the controversy itself, but from the vulnerability of "Lim Yoona" after the storm.

A sudden, indescribable sour feeling rushed to the tip of my nose.

But she held back.

"...The cat is in the bedroom."

Lim Yoona stepped aside to make way for the doorway.

Kang Jae-hoon understood her silent invitation.

He didn't hesitate.

I stepped into that warm light.

The peach scent that belonged to Yoona's space became clearer and richer, enveloping her even more, with a faint, refreshing aftertaste of whiskey mixed in.

The layout of the bedroom comes into clear view.

The calico cats were fast asleep on the fabric stool next to the round table.

On the small round table beside the bed.

A short, stout whiskey glass contained only a thin layer of amber liquid.

The wine bottle was placed aside.

There was still more than half of the wine left inside.

The remaining ice in the ice bucket had long since melted.

The information in the room unfolded silently—

A person who tries to soothe their fatigue with alcohol but doesn't know how.

She chose to curl up in a safe place and lick herself alone.

Yoona doesn't seem to have any intention of covering up the mess.

Instead, she leaned against the wall near the bedroom window, clutching an ice pack.

Strands of hair falling across her forehead obscured most of her expression.

This stripped away her usual, almost austere, refinement, revealing a fragile weariness within.

Kang Jae-hoon stood a few steps away from her.

They did not approach rashly again.

He didn't offer empty words of comfort like "Don't be sad" or "It will be alright."

I was just searching my mind for those feelings that had just been etched into my memory by Mount Everest.

"At Everest Base Camp, I couldn't sleep at night because my head was throbbing from the air pressure. The wind was so strong that it felt like it was going to blow the tent and me away into the glacier crevasses."

“Our guide, Tashi, said that the mountain is just there, it doesn’t speak.”

Before Kang Jae-hoon's eyes, he seemed to see again that overwhelming, silent expanse of white snow:

"Going up there is a choice people make. But the wind and snow never care whether people's choices are right or wrong. They simply...exist."

He paused, his gaze falling on Yoona's tired but still straight back.

"Girls' Generation is also a mountain."

"It has been there for so long. So many people look up to it, so many people want to climb it. But it also has its 'wind and snow,' its 'crevices.' Some people choose to stay, some... choose different paths. There is no right or wrong, that's just how the wind blows."

Yoona seemed to tighten her arms around herself.

Kang Jae-hoon's words were like the cold tip of a pickaxe, shaving away the deliberately covered, hardened layer of facts.

The split of the group was like an unavoidable avalanche.

No matter how much those who remain want to maintain the status quo.

The structure of the ridge has been altered.

The wind will not reverse.

Kang Jae-hoon took a slow step forward.

The distance between us has been halved.

"When you're on a mountain, there's often very little you can do. You can't control the wind direction, nor can you fill in the ice crevasses. The only thing you can do is..."

"Just hold yourself tight and conserve your warmth. Wait for the storm to pass, or... learn to spot the next safe haven in the storm."

This is what Mount Everest taught Park Moo-taek, and it also taught him—

A cold, detached logic of survival stripped of romantic imagination.

This logic also applies to the top of this stage called "Girls' Generation".

Yoona finally raised her eyes.

Deep within those tired, doe-like eyes, a faint glimmer of tears seemed to be stirred.

But more than anything, it's the feeling of being spoken out and understood that's touching.

Those complex, unspoken feelings of guilt, helplessness, grievances, and even silent pressure within the company.

He peeled away the outer shell with such a peculiar yet incredibly apt metaphor.

The storm must be faced alone.

But temporary shelter is also needed.

She didn't say "thank you" or "I understand".

That's too deliberate.

In that almost suffocating silence, I took a silent breath.

very light.

It's also very long.

After a while.

Yoona's gaze shifted to the wine glass with the lip print on it on the small round table, and then slowly moved to Kang Jae-hoon.

The signs of hardship on his face were real.

The calmness in his eyes, forged from the cruel laws of nature, was genuine.

then.

Her lips slowly and laboriously curled upwards.

An arc that is shorter than crying, yet more real.

It lacked the stylized brilliance of everyday camera work.

Only a faint glimmer of light remains after a weary soul sheds some of its pretense.

Kang Jae-hoon understood what she meant.

He turned around and walked to the cabinet against the wall.

Open the cabinet door.

Take out a new glass of the same type.

He walked back to the small round table, bent down, and picked up the unopened bottle of purified water—

First, I poured a little water into the cup to rinse it, then poured the water into the small ice bucket.

Then he unscrewed the cap of the whiskey bottle.

The amber-colored liquor was poured into the glass that Yoona had originally used.

The liquid rises slowly.

Kang Jae-hoon didn't fall.

It just covers the bottom of the cup by about a finger's width.

Then he picked up the brand-new glass and poured in almost the same amount of wine.

He handed the brand-new, pre-filled glass of wine to Lim Yoon-a.

The cup she had used was left in front of him.

Kang Jae-hoon didn't say anything.

He simply raised his head.

His gaze passed over the warm yellow glow above the round table and landed on her leaning against the window.

The light shone clearly in those weary, doe-like eyes, reflecting the meaning behind his simple gesture—

Your mark belongs to you.

And the newly filled cup also belongs to you.

Regardless of joy or sorrow, I only want to share this moment with you.

It felt like a tiny, warm needle prick somewhere in Yoona's chest. The lingering, aching sensation returned, but was strangely dispelled by a warm current.

She approached in silence.

He sat down on the comfortable fabric sofa closest to him at the table.

Silently, she extended her slender, fair fingers to accept the "brand new" wine glass.

Kang Jae-hoon also raised his glass of "new" wine.

There was no toast.

There was no deliberate attempt to comfort her.

He drank a little bigger.

The warmth of the alcohol descended down the esophagus.

It soothes the dryness and slight chill of a long journey.

It is silent at first taste.

Only the unique aroma of whisky melts in your mouth.

They seemed to be silently pondering their own thoughts.

gradually.

Perhaps the alcohol is quietly fermenting in the blood.

Perhaps this little world is a refuge from the noise and storms outside the window.

Or perhaps, it was the vastness of Mount Everest and the heaviness of my childhood that created a unique resonance through the medium of whiskey.

Im Yoon-ah's voice rang out softly in the gentle light, before Kang Jae-hoon's.

"Sooyeon unnie...it wasn't a sudden decision she made. It was a long time ago..."

Kang Jae-hoon simply listened quietly.

Occasionally, he would respond with a soft "hmm".

He will also share the subtle moments of awe he experienced during his Mount Everest trip.

It wasn't a magnificent landscape, but rather a concrete and subtle struggle—

For example, being tormented by headaches and thirst in the pitch-black tent, unable to fall asleep, one can only lie awake listening to the ghostly wailing of the wind outside.

For example, witnessing the silent yet powerful vitality of the Sherpas, carrying supplies exceeding their own weight and wearing worn-out shoes, yet still climbing upwards.

These detailed descriptions make the cruelty and sublimity of Mount Everest extremely concrete in front of Lim Yoon-a.

It also creates a strange contrast with her current state of exhaustion, giving her an air of detachment from the world.

It turns out it's on the other side of the world.

The struggle takes a completely different, yet equally heavy form.

The conversation was slow.

Sometimes it's interrupted by the pauses while sipping whiskey.

Sometimes, I'm interrupted by the slight noise of a calico cat, half-asleep in the corner, occasionally turning over.

Sometimes they simply sit in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, floating in the amber liquid.

More than an hour passed quietly amidst the aroma of whisky and the sound of rain.

Both glasses were emptied.

The night is already deep.

The city's neon lights cast dappled shadows through the curtains in the quiet bedroom.

Kang Jae-hoon gently put down the already empty cup in his hand:
"I have to go now."

As if gently awakened from her long reverie, Lim Yoona also stood up.

Her complexion seemed a little gentler than before.

Although the signs of exhaustion were still evident, the heavy, inky feeling seemed to have faded considerably.

"Ah."

She responded and followed him toward the bedroom door.

The motion-sensor light in the entryway turned on immediately.

It illuminated the gleaming tiled floor and the pair of shoes Kang Jae-hoon had laid out at the door.

The two stopped by the door again.

Yoona tilted her head slightly to look at him.

The emptiness in those doe-like eyes was gone.

Rippling with a gentle, soothing light, as if understood and comforted.

There was no deliberate expression of gratitude.

There is no need for verbal explanation.

Kang Jae-hoon looked down at her.

The snow and wind of Mount Everest and the warm space beneath his feet overlapped in his mind.

The impermanence of human relationships, with its gatherings and separations, intertwines with the rare tranquility of this moment together.

An impulse beyond words welled up in my heart.

Almost instinctively, without warning, he reached out his arm—

No temptation.

No hesitation.

A large, dry, warm hand gently landed on the top of her soft hair.

"Well……"

Yoona was completely taken aback.

I felt a warm and heavy sensation on the top of my head.

A warm, broad hand had already covered it.

Followed by.

The hand naturally and gently rubbed the top of her hair twice.

The movements weren't particularly skillful or gentle.

It even has a touch of straightforward roughness.

It doesn't feel like treating a goddess at the top of the stage.

It's more like giving a shivering little animal a clumsy but comforting reminder of its warmth.

The force was neither too light nor too heavy.

Yet it was clearly transmitted through the hair to the scalp.

It spreads to the taut nerve endings.

It instantly drained all her strength to struggle.

Kang Jae-hoon didn't linger for even a second longer.

The palm fell.

His movements were as swift as a "sneak attacker" who quickly retreated after succeeding in his attack.

He grabbed the backpack from the ground and slung it over his shoulder, while his other hand turned the lock on the door.

"Go to bed early."

Only three somber words remained, lingering in the air.

The person had already disappeared into the dim shadows of the corridor with a "whoosh".

Only the wind from the porch remained, carrying the scent of his departure into the entryway.

The motion-activated lights in the porch turned off immediately.

Lim Yoona stood by the door like an elf who had just been petrified.

There was no expression on his face.

Or rather, there wasn't enough time to make any expression.

Only in those slightly widened doe eyes was there pure, undisguised astonishment and bewilderment.

The strands of hair on her forehead that had just been ruffled by that large hand were still sticking up in an unruly arc.

She raised her hand almost instinctively.

I'm not going to fix my hair.

Instead, she gently touched the top of her head, which had just been covered by the large hand, with her fingertips.

That place.

Under the skin.

It seemed as if that dry, rough warmth still lingered.

Like a small stone thrown into a deep pool, ripples spread silently, impacting the hardened, weary walls in her heart in circles.

The lights were still on in the living room.

The sweet aroma of peaches blends quietly with the lingering spiciness of whiskey.

The calico cat woke up at some point.

It stretched out a long, lazy yawn.

He let out a satisfied little yawn.

then.

She walked into the living room with cat-like steps.

Her bright eyes gazed quietly at the slightly curved lips of the lady of the house who stood at the door.

(End of this chapter)