Chapter 9

"It's raining quite heavily here too," Yixan spoke into her phone, her voice barely audible above the relentless patter of rain against the pavement. She stood on the outskirts of a bustling street, water pooling around her feet as she anxiously awaited the bus that seemed eternally delayed. Sung-Hoon had called, his tone laced with concern, urging her to check on Yeon-Jun due to the sudden downpour. The rain had come on with ferocity, accompanied by the ominous crack of thunder that sent shivers down her spine. "I'll text you as soon as I see him," she promised, abruptly ending the call and rubbing her hands over her sleeves, desperately trying to generate warmth against the chill that seeped into her bones.

As the minutes dragged on, Yixan's anxiety mounted. She glanced around nervously, her eyes darting to the sky every so often, as if willing the storm to relent. "What if he hurts himself?" she muttered under her breath, the thought gnawing at her. It was a cardinal rule they had maintained: never to let Yeon-Jun fend for himself during foul weather. The forecasts had predicted a clear evening, making this rain all the more alarming. To add to her distress, Yeon-Jun was unresponsive to her texts, his phone likely out of reach, leaving her with an unsettling fear that twisted in her gut.

Just as she felt the urge to scream in frustration, a dark blue sedan slid to a halt at the roadside, its windshield wipers frantically battling the heavy sheets of rain. Yixan initially dismissed it, but then she heard the driver's horn beep, sharp and insistent. The window rolled down, revealing a familiar face framed by the storm—a figure she recognized instantly despite the murky visibility.

"Ms. Lian?" came the voice, slightly strained yet oddly cheerful, reminiscent of a playful jester. It was Hee-Jun, Secretary Go, whose silly inflections often amused and exasperated her in equal measure.

"Secretary Go," Yixan replied, frustration softening her voice as she approached the car. She gazed into Hee-Jun's eyes, feeling both relief and irritation. "I would cuss you out any other day, but right now, I really need to be somewhere," she said, her urgency propelling her into the vehicle without waiting for an invitation.

"Strawberry Hanok. I presume you know the way," she continued, a hint of sharpness returning to her tone. Hee-Jun nodded, betraying no sign of the playful banter they often shared; this wasn't the time. "I was already on my way there," he said with a calm demeanor, "It seems your cousin may have slipped away for an untimely refreshment."

The tension in Yixan's shoulders lessened slightly as they sped off, the storm's intensity mirrored in her racing thoughts about Yeon-Jun's safety.

"Closed for the day," Hee-Jun murmured to himself, squinting at the faded sign that hung crookedly on the cafe's entrance. Yixan, her gaze fixed on her phone, repeatedly tapped the screen, trying to reach Yeon-Jun, but the calls went straight to voicemail. Hee-Jun scanned the dimly lit alley, noting the heavy metal door and the front entrance, both firmly shut and devoid of any welcoming glow from inside the cafe or the adjacent apartment.

"What if he went to one of his friends' houses?" Hee-Jun suggested tentatively, his mind drifting towards Yeon-Su, Yeon-Jun's part-timer. The mere mention of her name elicited a sharp glare from Yixan, like a dagger aimed straight at him.

"The only thing you need to understand about this cafe is that it's my regular coffee shop," Yixan retorted, her voice laced with venom. She stepped closer to Hee-Jun, her eyes narrowed, and she jutted her finger towards him with an intensity that promised repercussions. "You have no business prying into the owner's life or his part-time employee. You don't even get to speculate on their relationships—stay out of it. I'm issuing you a warning right now," she continued, her tone frosty and unwavering.

Yixan took a deep breath, seemingly gathering her thoughts before continuing, "If you go back to your chairman with this nonsense, you better not think twice. If I hear one more word from you about Yeon-Jun or his associates, especially from his mouth, I'll make sure you regret it. Believe me, I walked away from that situation easily last time. This time? I won't hold back."

"How long do you plan on continuing with this charade?" Hee-Jun jeered, the corners of his lips twisted in disdain as he tightly grasped Yixan's wrist, his fingers almost digging into her skin. "Your unwavering faith in what you call 'the truth' is nothing but a mere shadow of what it actually is. Even in the face of undeniable evidence, you choose to turn a blind eye, simply because you can't bear the thought of admitting defeat."

"Pfft!" Yixan scoffed, each word laced with a bitter edge, her mocking laughter echoing off the damp brick walls of the now-silent alley where the remnants of the storm lingered like an unwelcome memory. "It seems your esteemed chairman hasn't shared all the relevant details with you," she taunted, a glint of defiance in her eyes as Hee-Jun finally loosened his grip, letting her go. "No matter how loyal or devoted someone might seem, you wouldn't put your trust in them blindly with something so valuable. You wouldn't give your dog a gold bone. After all, you can never be certain they won't take off with it."

"You wouldn't know what loyalty is, Ga-Ram," Hee-Jun said, his voice slicing through the air like a knife, laden with a pain that felt excruciatingly necessary to express after all that Yixan had put him through. "After all, you changed your name, trying desperately to align yourself with the man who abandoned you in a foreign land. The Chairman was right—blood stains are difficult to erase. Of course, you're going to emerge just as that loathsome person who shattered so many lives." His words hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the past. But just as the weight of his accusations sunk in, Yixan's hand flew across his face in a sharp slap, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the tense atmosphere. Yet Hee-Jun pressed on, unfazed. "The truth hurts, Yixan," he declared. "As someone who once turned away from facing the truth to avoid its consequences, I'm telling you, your journey will end in failure. It's far better to stop now than to drown in a sea of regrets. I truly hope you come to understand this."

Yixan's voice trembled as she replied, "I don't need your pity."

"This isn't pity," Hee-Jun countered, firm as steel. "This is genuine understanding. If you had paused, just for a moment, to see that we were trying to connect with you—trying to grasp what you have endured by sharing our own experiences—you would have realized you painted yourself as the martyr. That is the very reason you flee: because you can't bear to confront your mistakes. All because of your inflated ego."

With her heart pounding in her chest, Yixan choked out, "So what do you want me to do?" Her voice cracked, revealing the tempest of emotions just beneath her surface. Tears threatened to spill as she wrestled with her pain. She listened intently, only allowing herself to react fiercely when the truth became too much to bear. Deep down, she knew she carried a burden of guilt, but what choice did she have? She was abandoned as a child, tasked with navigating her trauma alone because no one seemed to want her. And when someone finally sought her out, it was only to create competition among their heirs, as though she were a pawn in their game. "You want me to crawl back and offer an apology when you know they don't deserve it?"

"They don't deserve an apology, no. But you deserve one," Hee-Jun insisted, his voice softening but no less piercing. "How w,ill you ever find closure if you refuse to consider the path of becoming the bigger person?" His words were like arrows aimed directly at her heart, and Yixan felt their impact deeply. All this time, she had longed for someone to acknowledge her pain, to validate her feelings and recognize that she needed an apology for the hurt inflicted upon her. Instead, she had been brought here to be manipulated, trained to despise the very parents who once loved her, all to support the people who had ostracized them. And deep down, Yixan knew that if Yui-Hyuk truly cared for her, he would never have cast her aside like trash. Yet, none seemed willing to confront that bitter truth.

"I'm tired," Yixan whispered, her voice barely floating above the din of the evening rain. She turned away, taking deliberate steps that echoed softly against the tiled floor as her heels sank into the shallow puddles that had formed. Each splash sent ripples through the water, creating abstract reflections of her weary self. As she walked, tears streamed down her cheeks, mingling with the rainwater, a silent testament to her turmoil. Hee-Jun followed closely behind, his presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos of her emotions. She was acutely aware of him but chose not to address his comforting shadow; simply having him by her side felt like a balm to her weary heart — the only person who might truly grasp the depth of her pain, though she remained oblivious to that fact.

"I walked her home," Hee-Jun spoke into his phone, his tone laced with concern and fatigue. "I made sure she didn't even glance in the direction of the cafe." He told Woo-San, who stood in Yeon-Jun's apartment after putting him to sleep by drugging his drink. "I'm exhausted," Hee-Jun continued, hoping for a swift conclusion to their conversation as a tired sigh escaped his lips.

"He might be the one," Woo-San responded, his voice carrying an undercurrent of excitement that pierced through Hee-Jun's contemplation. The words hung in the air, igniting a and flicker of both shock and fervor in Hee-Jun's eyes. "Did you find it? The thing I asked you to look for?"

"No," Woo-San admitted, his voice heavy with disappointment. "But I did find something that will help us prove it even more." He switched the phone to his other ear, his gaze again fell on a delicate, tarnished music box he had unearthed from Yeon-Jun's nightstand. "Get ready, Secretary Go," Woo-San warned, a sly grin creeping across his face. "You're going to become a lot more tired from now on."