Chapter 41
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 41
Following Dr. Ju to the stray dog shelter, Yeon-ju threw herself into the work the moment they arrived.
For hours, she cleaned kennels, emptied and washed water bowls before refilling them, and scooped out generous portions of kibble.
Despite the loving care they received, the dogs were starved for attention. They wagged their tails endlessly, barked as if begging for a glance, and followed Yeon-ju’s every move with their eyes. Still, many of them would cower and hide in the corners when she got too close, leaving a dull ache in her heart.
She had been working diligently for some time when she paused to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Just then, Dr. Ju approached.
“Yeon-ju, have some water.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.”
Taking a large gulp from the water bottle, Yeon-ju looked at Dr. Ju. Drenched in sweat, just like her, he seemed all the more admirable today.
“How is it, Yeon-ju? It’s exhausting, isn’t it?”
“It is, but strangely, I feel good. It clears my head and makes me want to do more.”
“That’s true. The hardest part is taking that first step to come here, but once you do, you keep finding yourself coming back.”
He was a man who silently fulfilled his calling, whether anyone recognized it or not—a man who understood what it meant to coexist.
She realized it had been a long time since she had met someone whose attitude toward life she wanted to emulate. The thought was quickly followed by the memory of making such an upright and honest man do something terrible, and a small, bitter smile touched her lips.
“Yeon-ju, why are you smiling? Do you know it’s time to eat?”
“I’ve got a nose like a dog. I can smell the jajangmyeon from all the way over here.”
How could she possibly handle this man’s pure devotion and sincere heart? A painful ache bloomed in her chest as she wondered how she could protect someone with such an innocent smile.
The more they met, the more they spoke, the more it felt like they were only heading toward a deeper, more inevitable pain.
“Then let’s go eat, Yeon-ju.”
“Yes. You ordered the double portion, right?”
“Ah, of course.”
Dr. Ju gestured for her to follow, and Yeon-ju fell into step behind him.
How peaceful this kind of life was. How grateful she was to have someone to share these moments with, moments filled with nothing but warmth and abundance.
She knew. She knew it all too well.
“Wow, there’s fried rice too?”
“There’s jjamppong, too.”
“Whoa.”
“Ta-da. We also have sweet and sour pork.”
“Whoaaaa!”
It was just that she had drifted too far away from a life like that.
* * *
Tae-gon’s brow furrowed when he heard that Hae-young had fired Ju-mi. Though it was the weekend, he had come into the office. Sitting at his desk in the CEO’s office, he tapped his fingers against the wood. Tap, tap.
Jin Hae-young. Jin Hae-young.
“Hah… How am I supposed to teach that arrogant bitch a lesson?”
Ju-mi had wept bitterly before him, venting her grievances. Having failed to carry out his order to oust Yeon-ju and getting fired in the process, she was desperate to defend herself from his wrath.
She conveniently left out the part where she had mentioned Tae-gon’s name to Hae-young, acting as if he had nothing to do with the attempt to drive Yeon-ju out.
Tae-gon’s scowl deepened as his anger flared. He was disgusted by Jin Hae-young’s arrogance. Firing Ju-mi so blatantly, as if hiring a new staff member was some grand affair… She held her head high, completely oblivious to her place. He would have to crush her eventually.
“How dare she defy me? Arrogant bitch.”
Sigh. With a cold gaze, Tae-gon spun his chair around to look out the window. Offering a panoramic view of downtown Seoul, the Yeonildam building boasted the absolute best location in terms of feng shui.
It was no exaggeration to say that Eun-seong had built this company. Ten years ago, they had started in a rented office costing 1.3 million won a month. In less than three years, they had become the owners of a high-rise in Cheongdam-dong.
Wealth, honor, and a future—Eun-seong had provided it all. And rightfully so. Considering the investment and effort he’d poured into building Eun-seong into a top star, these were things Tae-gon felt he deserved.
“Of all the times for a nuisance like this to pop up.”
He pressed his temples, a headache brewing. Eun-seong’s contract was set to expire soon, which made this an incredibly sensitive period.
While he had no doubt Eun-seong would stay with the agency as always, you could never be too sure about people. At a time when he should be keeping a tighter leash on everything, this tiny crack only fueled his irritation.
He had to hold onto Eun-seong. After working so hard to raise him, he couldn’t afford to lose him now.
“If we can just get through this season, I can finally breathe a sigh of relief.”
Once this shoot was wrapped up, Eun-seong had another long, grueling overseas schedule to handle. Though nothing was finalized due to the contract negotiations, the list of pending schedules was packed.
Once the contract was renewed, he would never schedule any more Korean promotions. Gritting his teeth, Tae-gon turned back to his desk.
He opened a drawer to review Eun-seong’s contract one more time. As he pulled out a few confidential documents, another file slipped out and fell to the floor.
It was the cast information file for the movie.
Leaning back in his chair, Tae-gon opened it. The profiles were organized by the importance of the roles. Eun-seong’s was on the first page, followed by the rest of the cast. He scanned them with dry, indifferent eyes until his gaze landed on the very last page: Han-byeol’s profile.
Each actor’s agency had compiled their profile. Han-byeol’s was incredibly sparse, listing only his stage name and current elementary school, as he had no notable career to speak of.
“Han-byeol? Is that his real name or what?”
Muttering to himself, Tae-gon closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he stared at the line stating the boy was in the second grade, then studied the child’s face for a long time.
Examining the boy’s features, which looked as if they had been perfect from birth, Tae-gon narrowed his eyes. Perhaps it was because he already knew the boy was Go Yeon-ju’s son, but the child strongly resembled his mother.
The boy had an undisturbed, clear aura, like a settled stream. His clean-cut mouth, which defined his expressions, was undeniably the spitting image of Go Yeon-ju’s.
But then, a strange sensation crept over him.
Staring at Han-byeol’s face, he slowly shifted his gaze to a photo of Eun-seong on the corner of his desk. It was a picture from Eun-seong’s debut, his face much younger than it was now.
He glanced from Han-byeol’s photo to Eun-seong’s. Then, using his hand, he covered the nose and mouth on Han-byeol’s picture to isolate the eyes. He did the same with Eun-seong’s photo.
After staring like that for a long while, Tae-gon picked up the phone.
—Yes, CEO.
“The child actor in Eun-seong’s movie, Han-byeol. Contact Chang-rok and tell him I want to see a detailed profile. Right now.”
His grip tightened on the file in his other hand.
* * *
Yeon-ju remained at the shelter until dusk. The afternoon was spent bathing and grooming the dogs, while Dr. Ju focused on examining and treating the sick ones.
Though they were in the same space, they were too busy to exchange a single word, each working up a sweat at their respective tasks.
As they were finishing up, a light rain began to fall. Leaving the shelter, Yeon-ju got into the car with a complex mix of emotions. She realized a single day of volunteering couldn't solve the problem, so she felt no sense of accomplishment or relief—only the weight of it.
Neither of them spoke on the drive back. When the car pulled up in front of the animal hospital, Yeon-ju got out.
“I'll wait. Have a nice weekend date with Dr. Ju.”
She barely managed to suppress the urge to check the time.
“Thanks to you, Doctor, I had a very meaningful experience. Thank you so much.”
“There was a lot of physically demanding work. I’m the one who should be thanking you for seeing it through to the end.”
“While I was there, my mind was blank, but now that it’s over, I have a lot to think about. I should start volunteering with Han-byeol from time to time.”
“Then please don’t forget to include me.”
As Dr. Ju expressed his desire to join them in the future, Yeon-ju let out a quiet breath. Their promised time together was ending, and she knew she had to draw a clear line.
“Um, Doctor.”
“Let me speak first today, Yeon-ju.”
Dr. Ju cut her off. As if determined not to simply stand there and take a blow this time, he began to speak, his words sounding as if he had prepared them beforehand.
“I’ve been thinking deeply about what you told me the other day, Yeon-ju.”
“I feel deeply grateful to you, Doctor, but I also feel incredibly guilty. I don't want to let those feelings grow. I have no right to, nor do I have the confidence.”
“I wondered why you would say those things to me.”
“I don't think I'm in a position to receive your interest and consideration, Doctor. I don't want to be someone who feels so inadequate and embarrassed in front of you anymore.”
“And then I realized… you must have found out that I like you.”
“How could I not know? I’m not that oblivious.”
“Exactly. I tried my best to hide it, but I guess it was too obvious, wasn’t it? I suppose I’m not cut out to be an actor.”
Dr. Ju scratched his head, looking embarrassed. Standing under the awning of the animal hospital to escape the drizzling autumn rain, he continued in a low voice.
“To a person, a dog isn’t their whole life. But to a dog, its owner is its entire world. Their positions are a little different.”
“Pardon?”
Yeon-ju’s eyes widened at the sudden talk of animals. Dr. Ju hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
“I thought that was only true for the relationship between humans and animals, but for the first time, I realized it could be the same for relationships between people.”
“…”
“So, uh, well… I know I can’t be the entire world to you, Yeon-ju. But to me… to me, you are…”
His hesitant voice trailed off, nearly lost to the sound of rain tapping against the awning.
She felt she already knew what he would say next.
“Even dogs know. They know full well that even though they only have their owner, and even though that owner is so precious and vital to them, the owner can’t feel the same way.”
“Doctor…”
“So, Yeon-ju, just live your life. I think that’s enough. Right now, I am nothing to you, which is why I don’t expect anything in return.”
“…”
“At least… not yet.”
The wind shifted, driving rain under the awning. Dr. Ju instinctively turned, shielding her with his body.
She looked up at him. The words she wanted to say, the words she had to say, washed away and vanished like the rain.
In a moment where the autumn rain seemed to wash everything else away, only his hesitant, trembling voice colored the night.
“I like you, Yeon-ju.”
This man standing before her—
Perhaps he was the first opportunity granted by a God who had always been so harsh and indifferent to her. A chance to steady her helplessly wavering heart. A single chance, telling her not to let go, to hold onto this man tightly.
“So please, just give me a little bit of a chance… no, just a little time.”
“…”
“I’m begging you, Yeon-ju.”
But he was not the one.