Chapter Eleven

One could feel the tension in the hospital lobby's heavy silence.

Chung Ji-Jae sat poised, her delicate hands folded neatly on her lap, though her expression betrayed her unease. Although she had remained composed throughout the ordeal, her son's awakening and amnesia now rattled her more deeply than she showed.

Beside her, Jae-Seong shifted impatiently, his restless energy evident in the way his leg bounced rhythmically. Dae-Seong, ever the composed older brother, stood nearby with his arms crossed, a silent pillar of calm amid the unease.

When the elevator doors opened and Chung Dae-Jung stepped out, his presence immediately filled the room. Ji-Soo followed closely behind, her sharp eyes scanning the family as though assessing a room full of business associates rather than relatives.

»Let's go,« Dae-Jung said curtly, wasting no time. The family rose in near unison, following the patriarch out to the waiting car. Ji-Soo's heels clicked against the tiled floor, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet hospital.

Once everyone had settled into the sleek, darkened interior of the family's car, Dae-Jung gestured toward the driver. »Take us home,« he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. As soon as the privacy window slid into place, sealing them off from the outside world, his demeanor shifted.

He turned to face his family, his gaze sharp and calculating. »We need to talk about how to further handle Jae-Jung.«

Ji-Soo smirked faintly, her arms crossed as she leaned back against the leather seat. »I assume we're addressing the... gaps in his memory?« she said smoothly. Her father shot her a warning glare. Her tone carried its usual indifference, though her eyes gleamed with something almost resembling amusement.

Ji-Jae exhaled softly, her hands twisting in her lap. »He didn't even recognize me,« she said, her voice strained but quiet. »His own mother.« Her words hung in the air, weighted with hurt, making even Jae-Seong pause in his restlessness.

Dae-Jung reached over, gently taking Ji-Jae's hand into his own and stroking his thumb across its surface. The softness of the gesture contrasted sharply with his cold, commanding presence. »It's amnesia, my dear,« he said, his tone unusually tender. »Temporary, most likely. The doctors said we should give him time to recover and refrain from overwhelming him.«

»Time,« The youngest, Jae-Seong, interjected, his youthful voice slicing through the conversation like a blade, »is a luxury we do not have.«

The others turned to him, their full attention captured by the quiet force in his tone.

»Hye-Jin,« Jae-Seong said, the name rolling off his tongue like a calculated move on a chessboard. »She's the key.« 

Ji-Soo's smirk widened faintly. »Hye-Jin? Interesting choice,« she murmured. »She has no ties to the family, no obligations to Jae-Jung. Why her?«

Dae-Seong's gaze settled on his younger sister, his expression unreadable, but he caught on Jae-Seong's point. »Because she's the only person he remembers,« he added simply. »That gives us leverage. If she can influence him, she can guide his recovery — and, more importantly, his focus.«

Ji-Jae frowned, her maternal instincts surfacing despite her usual restraint. »She's a stranger. How do we know she won't lead him astray? After all, she's the reason he became like this in the first place.« 

»We'll ensure she doesn't,« Dae-Seong said, his calm demeanor unwavering. »If Hye-Jin becomes part of his life, we can monitor her influence.«

Jae-Seong leaned forward, his restlessness translating into animated gestures. Toying with his siblings' minds. »But what's the endgame here?« His eyes focused in on his sister, watching her closely, »Bringing her into Jae-Jung's life could complicate things. If she figures out too much—« He didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear.

His father raised a hand, silencing him. »Hye-Jin is already intertwined with our world, whether she realizes it or not. Sung Jin-Hun, Kwon Corporations — her name has been in too many conversations to dismiss her significance. And don't forget: She's Jin-Woo's and Jin-Hye's precious baby. She has the potential to stabilize Jae-Jung while also serving our interests.« «

Ji-Soo's smile tightened. »And if she resists?« she asked lightly, though her tone carried a sharpness that betrayed her underlying thoughts. She didn't exactly like where this was going.

Dae-Jung's gaze was steely. »She won't.«, his eyes fixed in on Ji-Soo, »Because you, my child, will make sure of that.«

▸°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°◂

The room was filled with the soft sound of water rippling against the porcelain tub.

Hye-Jin leaned back, the warmth of the bath soothing the tension knotted in her muscles. Her glass of wine rested delicately in her hand, the rich aroma wafting faintly in the humid air. The dim lighting of the bathroom cast shadows along the walls, cocooning her in rare serenity.

But the sharp trill of her phone pierced the tranquil moment, startling her. She frowned, setting her wine down on the ledge of the tub. Reaching for the phone that lay on the nearby counter, she hesitated for a moment as she saw the words "Unknown Number" glaring back at her.

With a deep breath, she swiped to answer. »Hello?«

»Miss Cho Hye-Jin?«, a calm, measured voice spoke on the other end, startling her. The voice was unfamiliar, yet carried an air of authority that made her sit up slightly.

»Yes, currently speaking. Who's this?« she replied, her tone cautious.

»This is Chae Dae-Jung,« the man said plainly. »Jae-Jung's father.«

Her breath caught, her heart skipping a beat. The name carried weight — not just because of his connection to Jae-Jung, but because of the possibilities it meant.

Had Jae-Jung died? Had she messed up? Did he need anything?

»I'm calling,« Dae-Jung continued, his voice steady yet laced with something deeper, »to thank you. For saving my son's life that night. From what I've gathered, without your presence, he might not have made it.«

Hye-Jin was stunned into silence, her thoughts racing back to that night — the chaos, the desperate struggle, and the man who had stepped out of the shadows to protect her. Jae-Jung.

»You must know,« Dae-Jung pressed on, »he's woken up. But his memories… they're fragmented. He doesn't remember me, his mother, or even his siblings. But he remembers you.«

Hye-Jin blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise. Her fingers tightened around her phone as the weight of his words sank in. He remembers me?

»I'd like to meet with you,« Dae-Jung continued, his tone now carrying a sense of urgency. »At the hospital, whenever you're ready. This conversation is best-had face to face.«

She struggled to find her voice, her thoughts spiraling as relief mingled with disbelief. »I… I'll think about it,« she managed finally.

»Good,« Dae-Jung said firmly. »You can contact me through this number whenever you're ready. Take your time — but... please, not too long. We don't know how to handle Jae-Jung.« With that, the call ended, the silence in her bathroom feeling heavier than before.

Hye-Jin slowly lowered the phone, her heart pounding. She set it back on the counter before sinking deeper into the tub, her head tilting back against the cool edge. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she reached for her wine, the glass trembling faintly in her hand.

Her mind swirled with questions and emotions. Shock, yes, but also relief — relief that he was alive, awake. And yet, the thought of meeting Jae-Jung again, seeing those piercing amber eyes she remembered so vividly… it made her chest tighten in ways she didn't fully understand.

She took a slow sip of wine, letting the liquid steady her nerves as she stared at the rippling water.

How would it feel, meeting him face to face after everything that had happened?

Would he be the same man she remembered — the one who had risked everything to protect her? Or would the year-long gap, the shadows of forgotten memories, turn him into a stranger?

The thought lingered as she closed her eyes, sinking deeper into the water, the warmth enveloping her like a fragile shield against the uncertainty that awaited her.

For now, she decided, she'd let the bath hold her a little longer. Tomorrow could wait.