Chapter 35: Ryu Taesan

Dohyun walked into my office, his usual confident stride carrying a sense of accomplishment I hadn't seen in years. I set my pen down, leaning back in my chair as he took a seat across from me.

"I still can't believe it," I said, shaking my head with a small smirk. "Lecturer Yeo Dohyun."

He scoffed, taking the cup of coffee I slid toward him. "It's just KU, not some grand achievement."

I raised a brow. "KU is the best university in the country. Don't downplay it."

His lips twitched, but I could see the hint of pride in his eyes. I knew how hard he had worked for this. Two years as a research assistant at the center, countless sleepless nights buried in data and papers, and now—he had finally secured a lecturer position.

"Still feels weird," he admitted, sipping his coffee. "Feels like just yesterday we were suffering through classes, and now I'm the one standing in front of students."

I chuckled. "I'd pay to see you handling a bunch of freshmen."

"They're not that bad," he muttered, shaking his head. "Yet."

The easy atmosphere between us was refreshing. Despite everything we had been through, Dohyun had always been my closest friend—the one who stuck by my side through all the hell life threw at me.

And then—

The office door opened.

Sera walked in.

Dohyun's jaw dropped, the coffee cup halting midway to his lips.

I watched his entire body tense, his eyes locking onto Sera as if she were a ghost standing before him.

Right.

I never told him.

He had no idea she was back in South Korea. No idea that she had joined my company. That Soobin Hyung had tricked her into walking straight back into my world.

For a second, the room fell into silence.

Sera froze as well, her face changing the moment she registered who was sitting in front of me.

Dohyun's expression darkened.

He didn't say a word. Not to her. Not to me.

He just placed his cup down, exhaled sharply, and turned to me.

"Let's talk later." His voice was clipped. Controlled.

Then, without another glance, he walked past Sera and left the office.

I didn't stop him.

Sera stood there for a moment, gripping the file in her hands. I could see the slight tremble in her fingers—the way she tried to keep her composure despite the clear tension in the air.

Then, she straightened, took a step forward, and bowed slightly.

"Pardon me, Mr. Ryu," she said, her voice careful, restrained. "I have to go talk with him."

I nodded once.

She turned and hurried after him, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling quietly.

I knew that wasn't professional of her. She should have prioritized work, stayed back, finished her task.

But for once—I let it go.

…

…

It was late at night. The office was quiet, the only sounds coming from the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustling of papers as Sera worked at her desk. I leaned back in my chair, my fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. My eyes kept drifting toward her. I wanted to ask her what she had talked about with Dohyun. But not here. Not in the office. There was too much weight in that conversation—too many emotions that had been buried for Eight years. I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear what had been said between them. I'd talk to her later. Or Dohyun. From my office glass wall, I watched as she suddenly stood up, stretching slightly before heading toward the bookshelves in the far corner of the room. The shelves were packed with company files, thick binders, and old records, neatly organized yet stacked dangerously high. She scanned the labels, rising onto her toes as she reached for something from the top shelf. I frowned. She couldn't reach it. She tried again, her fingers barely grazing the edge of a binder. A stubborn crease formed between her brows as she stretched higher, determined. I sighed, standing up. She never changed. As I walked toward her, about to offer my help, something caught my eye. The bookshelf was shaking. My steps quickened. And then— I saw what was coming. A heavy storage box on the highest shelf tilted dangerously, its weight shifting. It was going to fall. Before I could think, before I could call out her name— I moved. I reached her just as the box slipped over the edge. I pulled her into my chest, shielding her with my body. A sharp, searing pain exploded across my back as the box crashed onto me. I hiccupped, a small gasp escaping my lips. Pain. A deep, familiar pain. My back. The old wound from Eight years ago. Sera stiffened in my arms, her breath catching. Her hands clutched the front of my shirt as if realizing what had just happened. I felt her tremble. I tightened my grip around her, steadying both of us. Seconds passed in silence, the only sound my ragged breathing. Then, slowly, she pulled back. Her eyes were wide, her hands shaking as she touched my arm.

"Mr. Ryu…..?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

I exhaled sharply, ignoring the dull throbbing in my back.

"You should be more careful," I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady.

But I saw it in her eyes. The worry. The guilt. The memories of the past rushing back to her just as they did to me. Eight years ago, I had taken a wound for her. And now— I had done it again. And somehow, despite all the distance, despite all the time that had passed— She still had the power to make my pain feel like nothing at all.

Sera's hands hovered over my arms, hesitant, as if she was afraid to touch me.

"Mr. Ryu…" she whispered again, her voice barely holding together.

I could see it—the panic in her eyes, the way her fingers trembled. She remembered. Eight years ago. The knife. The blood. The hospital. I exhaled slowly, straightening despite the sharp pull in my back. The pain was nothing. I had endured worse. I wasn't going to let this shake me.

"You should be more careful," I repeated, my voice steady this time.

But she wasn't listening. Her hands clenched into fists. Then, before I could react, she grabbed my wrist.

"Sit," she said firmly.

I frowned. "Miss Yoon—"

"Sit, Mr. Ryu."

There was something in her tone that left no room for argument. I let out a sigh and lowered myself onto the nearby couch, watching as she quickly moved to grab something from her desk. She returned with a small first aid kit.

I arched a brow. "You keep that in your office?"

She ignored my question. "Turn around."

"Miss Yoon, it's nothing—"

"Mr. Ryu."

I shut my mouth. She wasn't going to let this go. With another sigh, I leaned forward slightly, letting her kneel behind me. She carefully lifted the back of my shirt, and the moment her fingers brushed against my skin, I felt her inhale sharply. I knew what she saw. The old scar. The mark left behind from that night. She didn't say anything, but the silence was heavy. Then, gently, she pressed a cold pack against the sore spot where the box had hit. I hissed at the sudden sting.

"Does it hurt?" Her voice was softer now.

"No."

She paused. "Liar."

I smirked slightly, shaking my head. "I've had worse."

Her hands stilled. I realized too late what I had said. She had gone through Eight years believing she had ruined my life. That her leaving had been the best choice for both of us. And yet, here I was—reminding her that the past never truly left. Sera lowered the ice pack, her fingers barely touching my back now. "Why did you do that?"

I frowned slightly. "Do what?"

She swallowed, and when she spoke, her voice was quieter, filled with something unreadable.

"Shield me."

I let out a slow breath. Eight years apart, and she was still asking me the same question. I turned slightly, looking at her over my shoulder. "You already know the answer."

Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't speak. I reached up, taking the ice pack from her hands. "It's late. You should go home."

She hesitated, staring at me like she wanted to say something. Like she needed to say something. But instead, she lowered her gaze, nodding once.

"Goodnight, Mr. Ryu."

I clenched my jaw at the formality, watching as she gathered her things and walked toward the door. She stopped for half a second, her fingers gripping the handle—like she was waiting. Waiting for me to say something. I didn't. And then, she left. The door clicked shut behind her. I leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, gripping the cold pack tightly in my hand. I had let her walk away once. I wasn't sure if I could do it again.

My mind was struggling. I told myself to let her go. To let the past remain where it belonged. But as I sat there, staring at the closed door, an uneasy feeling settled deep in my chest. A few seconds passed. Then—I grabbed my coat. I left the office without another thought, my footsteps quick as I made my way down. When I stepped outside, I spotted her immediately. Sera stood near the bus stop, her arms wrapped around herself, the cold night air brushing against her hair. She looked small against the city backdrop, her eyes scanning the empty road as she waited for a taxi or bus. I exhaled sharply. She shouldn't be here alone. Not this late. Not in this city where shadows still lurked.

Before I could stop myself, I called out.

"Sera."

She turned around. For a brief second, surprise flashed across her face. She hadn't expected me to follow her. I stepped closer, my voice steady this time. "I'll drive you home."

She blinked, her brows furrowing slightly. "Taesan—"

"I can't let you go alone at this hour."

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue. But then she hesitated. She looked around—at the empty streets, at the bus that still hadn't arrived—and I saw the moment she realized I was right. With a quiet sigh, she nodded.

"Okay."

I walked ahead, opening the passenger door for her. She slid in silently, her hands resting on her lap. I got into the driver's seat, starting the car. The silence between us was thick, filled with unsaid words, with the weight of the past pressing between us. I didn't look at her right away. But as I drove through the dimly lit streets, I could feel her presence beside me—just like before. Just like Eight years ago.

The city lights blurred past us as I drove, the soft glow of the streetlamps casting fleeting shadows over Sera's face. She sat quietly beside me, staring out the window, her fingers curled slightly against her lap. But I could feel it. The way her gaze flickered toward me now and then. The way she was watching—worrying—but refusing to say it out loud. And then, after what felt like an eternity, she finally spoke.

"Does it still hurt?" Her voice was quiet, hesitant.

I didn't answer right away. She exhaled, then added softly, "Your scar… I mean, you should see a doctor."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.

"Eight years, Sera. And you're still worrying about me?"

She stiffened slightly, her fingers curling tighter, but she didn't respond. I let out a slow breath, gripping the steering wheel a little harder. Then, before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.

"Why do you care?"

Sera froze. Her breathing hitched, her hands clenching against her lap. The car was filled with silence, thick and suffocating. But I wasn't done. I turned my head slightly, glancing at her. My voice was lower this time, softer—dangerous in the way it carried something unspoken.

"Do you still love me?"

Her head snapped toward me, her eyes widening. For a moment, she just stared—her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Her face turned red. A deep, unmistakable shade of red. I could feel it—the way her heartbeat must have quickened, the way her breath must have caught in her throat. The same way she had reacted back then. The same way she had looked at me the night she had whispered, "I like you, Ryu Taesan."

My chest tightened. Eight years had passed. But some things hadn't changed. She still felt something. Even if she tried to hide it. Even if she had spent years convincing herself otherwise. I smirked slightly, turning my attention back to the road.

"I'll take that as a yes."

She let out a sharp breath, flustered beyond words, her hands clenching into fists.

"That's not—"

I glanced at her again, my smirk deepening.

"You're blushing, Sera."

She let out a frustrated sound, turning her face away, hiding behind her hair. But I saw it. And that was enough.Even if she didn't say it. Even if she refused to admit it. I knew. She still loved me.Sera turned her head sharply, looking out the window, but the way her shoulders tensed, the way she gripped the hem of her coat, told me everything. She was flustered.She still couldn't hide from me. I let the silence stretch between us, letting my words settle in the space between her rapid heartbeat and the unspoken emotions thick in the air. The car slowed as I reached her apartment building. I pulled into the parking lot, shifting the gear into park, but neither of us moved. She hesitated. I could feel it—the way she was struggling to speak, to find an excuse, to escape the weight of my question. Instead, she reached for the door handle.

I sighed, leaning back against the headrest. "You're running away again, Sera?"

She froze. Her fingers stopped just before touching the handle, her entire body stiffening at my words. I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "You always do that."

She clenched her jaw, still refusing to look at me. I turned to her fully, my voice softer this time. "Eight years ago… you left without a word. No explanation. No goodbye."

She inhaled sharply, her fingers tightening against her lap. I could see it—the way her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to defend herself, but she didn't. Because she knew I was right. I leaned in slightly, resting an arm against the steering wheel. My voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the emotions behind it.

"And now, you're doing it again."

Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes locking onto mine. And for the first time that night, I saw it. Pain. Guilt. Regret. Her lips trembled slightly, and she opened her mouth—but nothing came out. I waited. But instead of answering, she looked away again, exhaling shakily. "Goodnight, Taesan."

She pushed the door open and stepped out. I clenched my jaw, gripping the steering wheel tightly as I watched her walk toward the entrance of her apartment. She didn't turn back. Didn't look at me once. Even so— I knew she was feeling everything I was. I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face before resting my elbow against the car window. She still loved me. But she wasn't ready to say it yet. And this time— I wasn't going to let her run away.I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white as I watched Sera disappear into her apartment building. I was angry. So damn angry. But I loved her. And that was the problem. No matter how much she ran, no matter how many years passed, no matter how much pain she had left behind—my heart still belonged to her. It was pathetic, really. After everything, I should have moved on. I should have hated her. But I couldn't. Because the moment she walked back into my life, all those feelings I tried to bury came rushing back. And now, I was stuck between wanting to pull her close and wanting to push her away. I slammed my palm against the steering wheel, letting out a sharp breath. She had no right. No right to come back acting like she could still care about me. Like she could still ask about my pain, my scars. Like she had the right to worry after she was the one who left me behind. But at the same time— She had every right. Because she was still the only person who could break me with a single glance. I rested my forehead against my hand, shutting my eyes for a moment. My chest felt heavy, my mind clouded with too many thoughts, too many memories. I should let her go. I should stop this before it got worse. But deep down, I already knew— I wasn't going to. Because even if I was angry, even if the past still burned between us— I loved her. And I always would.