“……So now, our Chairman has decided he’s going to start growing vegetables just for the young master.”
Oh San-daek chattered on busily, unfazed by Ha-jin fiddling absentmindedly with the calendar. Ha-jin wasn’t really listening either.
Why had his gaze fixated on the calendar just now, of all times?
Was it because April was the month they’d reunited?
The last time Tae-seong had slept in this room was back in January, and yet the calendar was flipped open to April. On top of that, it was summer now—there’s no way someone cleaning the room had been flipping the pages month by month without fail.
Just like he himself had stared at the April page of the calendar after reincarnating, Ha-jin kept imagining Tae-seong sitting at this desk, glaring at April.
It wasn’t hard to picture the expression on Tae-seong’s face—reminiscing about his planned reunion with “Lee Ha-jin” in April, while reliving the betrayal and desire for revenge from his previous life. It was eerie. Almost horror-movie-level eerie.
His thoughts kept spiraling, and Ha-jin slowly closed and opened his eyes again.
…I’m overthinking.
He set the calendar down to cut off the growing delusions. The desk calendar, boldly stamped with the Chunwoo Group logo, had been in his home every year for two years in his past life. That’s why it looked familiar. That’s why it caught his eye.
So really, April was just a coincidence. Someone had flipped through it and simply forgotten to change it since.
After reminding him to rest and make sure to eat dinner before leaving, Oh San-daek exited the room. She even kindly closed the door behind her.
Ha-jin slowly took in the large room again. The space was steeped in Tae-seong’s past. It felt like the middle of a playground where a treasure hunt was just about to begin—when the first feelings of romance started to bloom. But Ha-jin felt oddly drained. All it took was something trivial like a calendar to make him sensitive and drag up memories of dying and coming back to life, leaving him feeling as if he’d sprinted full speed into the room.
So, he gave up on looking around and curled up sideways on the edge of the bed. Despite sleeping with Tae-seong before, he’d never actually laid in his bed, so it didn’t feel comfortable. Maybe that was why he wanted to escape the discomfort—emotionally, if not physically.
Staring blankly across the room with his vision tilted, Ha-jin eventually closed his eyes and drifted off.
The dark void that had cut clean through his string of negative thoughts like a pair of scissors eventually faded, and he woke again—drawn back by a scent tickling his nose. Ha-jin stirred from sleep without so much as a twitch, his eyes opening to the sight of Tae-seong sitting at the desk, watching him. Like a statue, Tae-seong sat with his back to the window’s light, quietly observing Ha-jin as he slept.
Only when their eyes met did warmth seem to return to the lifeless features of the man. Like watercolor bleeding back into its original shade, Tae-seong’s face slowly regained color. Ha-jin blinked his dry eyes rapidly and sat up.
“Ah, how is she? Your mother…”
“She had some tests done and then fell asleep again. It’s not that the coma’s resumed—just fatigue. Isn’t it funny? She slept for ten years, and she’s still sleepy.”
Judging by the thoughtful look on his face, Tae-seong still needed time to adjust. He got up and moved to sit beside Ha-jin. The mattress sank under his weight, shrinking the distance between them in an instant. Maybe it was because Ha-jin had just woken up, or maybe it was the tension of being in this space, but Tae-seong suddenly felt strangely unfamiliar.
“You know, you’ve got a way of charming people.”
Tae-seong grinned and lightly tapped Ha-jin’s cheek.
“What did you even do to make the housekeeper like you so much?”
“…What?”
Ha-jin gawked, confused. He’d been lost in thought and had barely caught half of what was said. All he’d done was accept what was given and nod diligently.
Tae-seong let out an awkward hum. He was usually the type to speak easily, so Ha-jin grew curious as the silence stretched on, Tae-seong fidgeting, even nibbling at his own brow line.
“What is it?” Ha-jin finally asked.
“My grandfather said you should stay for dinner. He’s gone all out setting up a charcoal grill in the garden and said he’d cook the meat himself, so I had no choice but to ask you. At this rate, we might need to sneak out the back.”
“…Were you seriously planning to escape out the back if I said no?”
“If you said no, I knew you’d ask, ‘Why leave without saying goodbye? Why sneak out the back? What about everyone else?’ I figured I’d save us the Q&A. I’m not trying to guilt you or anything.”
“……”
“You really can just go.”
“Do you even hear yourself?”
“Why not?”
Tae-seong clearly meant what he said, but that kind of attitude didn’t exist in Ha-jin’s vocabulary. If an elder invited you to dinner, even if you had a legitimate reason not to stay, sneaking off without a word was out of the question. It was exactly the kind of thing Tae-seong would say, though. For a moment, he even reminded Ha-jin of his younger brother.
“I’ll stay. It’s just one meal—what’s so hard about that?”
***
It IS hard…!
Ha-jin, who had boldly accepted Cheon Han-jo’s dinner invitation, realized within the hour that maybe he should have taken Tae-seong’s offer to sneak away seriously.
The dinner was nothing like what he’d expected. Tae-seong hadn’t lied about “setting up a charcoal grill in the garden to cook meat himself,” but the only thing that matched Ha-jin’s mental image was the charcoal.
The long dinner table, which could seat at least sixteen people, was draped with a pristine white tablecloth that looked too expensive to risk staining. There were flower arrangements and even lit candles—table settings you’d expect to see in a hotel.
And the grill setup? Absolutely extravagant. Ha-jin had imagined a simple, round brazier like his grandmother used in the countryside. Instead, he was met with an intense fire show that made his jaw drop. Every time someone stirred the meat on the grill with tongs, flames roared up spectacularly.
And through it all, Cheon Han-jo stuck to his word—sort of. With his silver hair tucked under an apron, he stood in front of the grill. Cooking duties were actually handled by a chef in full culinary uniform, while Han-jo mostly just transferred cooked meat to plates.
“Eat up. Today’s a really happy day. Thank you for coming all the way to see Soo-young.”
“…Thank you.”
The old man handing him a plate of meat while leaning on a cane made Ha-jin terribly uncomfortable. He felt like he should jump up at any moment to cook, serve, and carry dishes himself. But every time he so much as shifted in his chair, Tae-seong or someone else at the table would immediately ask if he needed anything—so he had no choice but to stay seated.
And there were so many people. Medical staff and guests had been arriving all day. No wonder Tae-seong had seen this coming and suggested they make a run for it.
“Goodness, Chairman! This meat is amazing. When did you learn to cook like this?”
The chef clearly did all the grilling, but this was Ha-jin’s first time seeing Joo Yoon-seo be this smooth with flattery.
“Have you tried the grilled marinated squid? That’s Oh San-daek’s specialty. It’s her secret weapon.”
“Oh my! I seriously thought it was something from a famous restaurant!”
Amid all the laughter and conversation, the calmest person at the table was Kim Dae-hong. Seated at the far end, he was quietly demolishing meat without making a sound. Ha-jin found it oddly comforting that Oh San-daek, Kim Dae-hong, and the other employees were dining alongside everyone else—it was the most normal part of this surreal dinner.
“This sauce is great. Ha-jin, dip your meat in this.”
Amid the chatter, Tae-seong leaned in and slid a small dish of sauce in front of him. Ever since the meal started, he’d been subtly picking out all the squid since he knew Ha-jin couldn’t eat seafood.
Is this what it feels like to come up for air? Ha-jin’s smile was stiff and awkward. And then, under the table, Tae-seong reached out and gently held his hand.
See? I told you we should’ve run.
His face, grinning with a wrinkle at the bridge of his nose, seemed to say exactly that.
Too late now. Just eat your meat.
They were silently exchanging glances when Cheon Han-jo approached them with a wine bottle in hand. Before they could stop him, he filled both their glasses to the brim. Everyone else’s glasses on the table were soon filled with deep red wine as well.
“Today, without a doubt, is one of the happiest days of my life. Thank you all for being here with me. My grandson’s support has kept this old man going all this time…”
His words were heartfelt. But Han-jo’s voice suddenly caught, and he pressed his lips together, holding back the swell of emotion as he looked up at the second floor of the mansion.
“Now, let’s toast. To Soo-young’s safe recovery!”
Caught off guard, Ha-jin took the glass of wine he’d been handed. He glanced between the shimmering red liquid and Tae-seong.
Can I drink this…?
It was strange. He hadn’t even fully made up his mind. He’d only mentioned going to the hospital a few hours ago.
Why did this fragrant wine feel more like hard liquor? Was it just overthinking—or regret? Why was this vague possibility growing inside him weighing on him so much, when nothing had even been confirmed yet?
He thought he’d decided. Thought he’d get rid of it.
His brow furrowed slightly as his gaze met Tae-seong’s. Maybe Tae-seong had the answer. Ha-jin searched his warm brown eyes with a quiet desperation.
But Tae-seong simply smiled, serene and calm as ever.
