I Already Knew
The walk back to the lodging felt like a silent film. Dark night, pale flashlight beam, a man and a woman with nothing to say. We slipped past the front desk without a word and slid the key into the door. Then Cha Jun-jae gave a little wave, the way someone might say good night. I had become his next-door neighbor without warning; I answered with nothing more than a nod.
And now? Now I was busy regretting every word I’d ever spoken. All that talk about rewarding him with good times, about showing him exactly what I meant—those cocky promises had kicked me right in the teeth.
As if I had any idea how to give Cha Jun-jae a happy memory. I was an expert at living comfortably alone, sure. But a promise was a promise, and what was done was done. I shook my head like a wet dog trying to forget the whole thing. Suddenly I wanted to clean the room. I pulled the dusty camera out of the corner. It gleamed as if it hadn’t spent years shoved in a closet.
What are you doing, dragging this one camera around?
Planning to shoot a Cha Jun-jae documentary on Dalos Island and turn it into a movie?
I was sneering at myself for slipping into such adolescent sentimentality. A polite knock—knock, knock—cut through the quiet. I turned my head. I already knew who it was.
“Come in.”
Cha Jun-jae stepped inside cautiously. He had clearly washed up in the meantime. The only thing he carried was his phone. I’d half expected late-night snacks. My enthusiasm fizzled; I offered him a seat with a weak smile.
He folded his long body onto the floor cushion. Once inside, all he did was blink at me. When I couldn’t figure out what the hell he was doing, I spoke first.
“Look… it’s creepy. Could you at least say something before you stare? Your eyes are about to sprout sprouts…”
“It’s the first time.”
“First time for what?”
“That you’re looking at me.”
I lifted my gaze from the camera and met his. His voice was so tenderly affectionate it raised goosebumps. Reflexively I hugged a pillow to my chest.
“Hey. Jun-jae. Let’s be clear. You definitely told me you didn’t have those kinds of feelings for me. Romantic feelings. You said that.”
“I don’t think I did.”
“What do you mean, you don’t think you did?”
This was supposed to be my revenge, not some sweet, honeyed romance with Cha Jun-jae. Yet he smiled like the more mature one of us.
“Well… how should I say it? Eun-dam, whenever I called your name you would frown, avoid my eyes, then say you were busy and disappear. Now you look at me. You even say my name like it’s fun. It’s… new.”
I was stunned that Cha Jun-jae—of all people—had noticed every single thing.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
He answered calmly, then lowered his eyes to his phone and searched for something. He thrust the glowing blue screen toward my shocked face.
“How about this place?”
I took the phone without thinking. Having handed it over, he began studying every corner of my room. The mess must have surprised him. I ignored him and looked at the screen. It was the lodging reservation app. One booking showed as paid. I could guess the location. It had to be one of the luxurious private villas on the northern side of the island.
“What is this?”
“A new place. I was thinking of moving.”
His Highness must have found this room quite uncomfortable. I handed the phone back with a bright smile.
“It looks good. Move. I told you it would be inconvenient for you here.”
Still smiling, Cha Jun-jae took the phone back and answered in a low voice.
“You’re coming too.”
“Huh?”
The sudden declaration froze my toes mid-wiggle. Cha Jun-jae set the phone on the floor and stretched his arms behind him. Head tilted back as though exhausted, he continued.
“The pillows are bad. The hygiene is questionable. And most of all, you can’t cook in the room and the bathroom is completely open. It makes me uneasy.”
In other words, when Cha Jun-jae moved, he intended to take me with him.
“Are you planning never to leave this island?”
“It’s my vacation too.”
“I know that. But why should I move with you? Am I some kind of buy-one-get-one-free set?”
His expression dimmed. The face that remained was strangely devoid of warmth. His low voice answered with indifferent certainty.
“You asked me to compensate you, so I thought about it. I’ll use a separate room. If you want, I won’t even come out to the shared kitchen or living room.”
“You’re the one who found the place, you idiot…”
I scanned the beautiful white mansion on the screen, mentally calculating. The private pool was a rare, soft pink. There was a proper kitchen; when the mood struck I could cook real Korean food.
That villa would be an incredible form of compensation. If I wanted to peel back Cha Jun-jae’s layers, I couldn’t make the same choices as before. In a capitalist world, money buys comfort. Once I moved in, I’d adapt quickly enough.
“Fine. I’ll go.”
Cha Jun-jae, who had been rubbing his eyes like he was fighting sleep, froze mid-motion. What happened next was completely unexpected. His eyes held only fear and suspicion, like a wild animal watching a trap. Yet his honest lips curved into a smile. With that discordant expression he said something cryptic.
“This seems worth trying.”
Deciphering Cha Jun-jae’s words made my head feel ready to explode. I flopped backward onto the bed. Thinking about moving made me notice all the scattered belongings around the room.
“When are you going to organize all that? When are we moving?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
This place was cheap, but I hated wasting the money I’d already paid. I had planned to tough it out for at least a week before moving to his villa. I stared blankly at the wood-grain pattern on the ceiling. A receipt with too many zeros danced in front of my eyes, forcing me to punch numbers on an invisible calculator. Mom and Dad always said my impulsiveness—quitting my job without a backup plan—was the problem. I’d declared I would become an actor, then that I would make films, then that I was going traveling.
Never looking far ahead, only following my heart. They were terrified the elite unfilial daughter would cause a catastrophe.
The catastrophe might already have happened. I had impulsively accepted Cha Jun-jae, but he still felt shockingly unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Regret kept whispering that I should quit, yet stopping halfway didn’t suit Song Eun-dam’s personality.
I kicked the imaginary bill floating above me until it disappeared. I would simply make Cha Jun-jae repay me for every loss, including this new one. That fool looked ready to wire whatever amount I named. I decided to stop doubting our unfair transaction. My side had been unfair for a long time; it was only right that his turn came too.
“What are you doing?”
Cha Jun-jae was quietly packing the clothes I’d left on the drying rack, my comb, my cosmetics—tucking them neatly into a pouch. He stood my suitcase upright, rolled the folded clothes, and placed them inside. As if he had some tact after all, he only touched what was visible, then sat naturally on the edge of the bed.
The housewarming guest clearly had no intention of returning to his own room. A head that smelled of fragrant shampoo pressed itself against my pillow. I turned onto my side and half-closed my eyes.
“Why aren’t you going to your own room? Hey? Excuse me? Hey, hey, hey, hey. Don’t sleep.”
“I have something I want to talk about.”
“Then talk. While you’re awake. Ah, seriously. I said don’t sleep.”
Cha Jun-jae opened his eyes just a sliver and held out his hand.
“When we were little. That time we went camping and had a campfire.”
“Campfire?”
The days of roasting sweet potatoes over a campfire had been forgotten somewhere around starting middle school. I stepped on the pedal of memory using Cha Jun-jae’s explanation as a guide. Second grade of elementary school, maybe. I had been invited to the neighborhood church retreat, along with the human leech Cha Jun-jae. We swam, hunted for treasure, and the grand finale had been the campfire.
“When I said I had an upset stomach, before the house mother could bring medicine, you pinched my hand, remember?”
The recovered memory was hazy, like a watercolor left in the rain. That’s right. I had turned pitch-black from swimming all day under the blazing sun in the valley. Cha Jun-jae had stayed as white as an egret. I had hated him for being congenitally unable to tan. Out of spite, I had secretly pinched and tugged the hand of the boy who was pretending to be sick. Remembering the full story of my petty revenge, my face burned with embarrassment. Cha Jun-jae offered his hand again, as helplessly as he had back then.
“I think I got indigestion from the pizza earlier.”
It was partly my fault for buying that cheap pizza. I honestly confessed my childhood crime.
“That was literally just pinching.”
He kept holding his hand out in silence. Half suspicious, I took it without much enthusiasm.
“You really want me to do it again?”
“It worked well.”
I was applying every random trick I’d ever heard. I pressed gently along the lines beneath his thumb. As I continued the massage, Cha Jun-jae’s frown slowly melted away. In less than five minutes his breathing settled into a steady rhythm.
“Cha Jun-jae.”
“……”
“Cha Jun-jae.”
No answer. He was sleeping like the dead, occupying the very edge of the bed as though he might fall off at any second. Exhausted, I sprawled out across the mattress.
Whatever. I give up.