MDQ Ch 39

I was startled like a thief caught red-handed. I even dropped the phone I was holding.

Kang Kimoon leisurely bent down and picked up the fallen phone.

All the while, his languid eyes never once left me.

The way he looked, as if he could pierce straight through my thoughts, froze me on the spot. A chill of fear ran through me—what if he had noticed my connection with Given?

“You should be more careful.”

Kang Kimoon’s voice, usually calm, sounded strangely sinister today.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

At some point, my mouth had gone dry. I crushed my lips together and gripped the phone tightly.

“You—”

If Kang Kimoon asked me something about Jung Yohan, what kind of answer could I possibly give…? Tension knotted inside me, my breath hitching like I was on the verge of a panic attack.

“It’s okay. Just breathe easy.”

As if sensing my shallow panting, Kang Kimoon soothed me with a calm tone.

I followed his words and steadied my breathing. After a few deep breaths, it really did feel easier.

“I was just about to say that you should let people know in advance if they need to reach you. You’re changing your number soon, right?”

“Huh?”

Kang Kimoon didn’t so much as mention the article. His face was blank, as though he’d never said a thing.

Facing that calm expression, the panic that had been writhing to swallow me whole vanished completely.

It felt like I didn’t need to confess a single thing to him.

“Do you have no one to tell?”

I didn’t want to tell anyone my new number. Not even my father.

I felt a little sorry toward Park Chungrim and Chulmin, but it couldn’t be helped.

I’d already left the company under false accusations. Whether Given sank into a pit or Jung Yohan quit the group, none of it was my concern anymore.

Cruel as it was, there was nothing I could do. I simply didn’t want to be tied to them any longer.

“Yeah.”

With my answer, the conversation ended. Kang Kimoon asked nothing more.

I switched phones and numbers without a shred of hesitation.

Thanks to him quietly giving me space, there was no chance of my real name slipping out.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No.”

“Then let’s head out. Might as well pick up dinner while we’re at it.”

“Okay.”

Even while we shopped for dinner, Kang Kimoon didn’t ask about the article. Instead, he kept asking what I wanted to eat, what else I needed—more kindly than usual.

Just as he’d once said: if I didn’t bring it up first, he wouldn’t ask anything.

It was the same back at the house. He prepared an extravagant dinner, then simply told me to rest before heading upstairs.

Only after retreating into my room did I feel like I could breathe.

My shoulders ached from the tension of subconsciously watching his every move.

The brand-new phone had no alarms, no messages stacked up. The emptiness gave me a strange sense of relief.

There was just one number saved in the nearly blank contact list. It was Kang Kimoon’s number.

He hadn’t asked a single question. All he did was give me his own number.

Even his messenger profile was bare, without a picture. Somehow, that felt exactly like him.

I couldn’t put the phone down. Instead, I searched for news about Jung Yohan’s withdrawal.

I was still determined not to concern myself with Given, but his sudden departure had been too shocking.

I wanted to know why he’d done it.

Maybe… maybe it was because of me. Maybe he’d been so angry over the false “abusive manager” label pinned on me that he couldn’t stay with the agency any longer—maybe he’d done it to take my side.

I knew such expectations were foolish, but still, I couldn’t stop myself from hoping, even just for a little.

My half-shaken attachment, unable to let go of loving Jung Yohan completely, made me a fool.

But no matter how many articles I read, none gave a clear answer.

They only mentioned “conflict with the company” and “personal reasons that made it impossible to continue with Given.”

Even when that tiny hope crumbled, it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Maybe I’d grown numb from too much disappointment.

And strangely, I didn’t even worry about Jung Yohan being left alone.

Perhaps it was because the last time we met, the wound he gave me cut too deep. I felt nothing but bitterness toward someone who never once tried to understand me.

Besides, Jung Yohan would be fine—with or without me, with or without Given.

He surely had enough wealth to last him his whole life. He even had wealthy grandparents, however estranged they might be.

Leaving Given didn’t mean he had to end his career as a singer or actor.

With his natural good looks and squeaky-clean image, he could bounce back without much difficulty.

Meanwhile, me? I had nothing at all and had even been cut off by my own parent. Who was I to worry about anyone?

I read the last article and put the phone down. I didn’t want to see anything more about Jung Yohan.

Lying on the bed, a strange feeling enveloped me.

A sense of satisfaction over Given, who tormented me, falling apart? A feeling of glee at the CEO’s headache caused by Jung Yohan’s sudden withdrawal? I felt nothing like that.

All I felt was emptiness, as if I’d never wanted revenge in the first place.

Jeez… I was truly weak-hearted.

I hated my own inability to truly hate anyone.

But just then, I remembered something my brother once said,

He admired me for trusting others easily, for not being able to hate them.

Back then, I’d asked him why.

“Why? Only the strong survive in this world. Someone like me might just get used by others and end up unhappy. I want to be strong and steadfast, like you.”

That offhand comment turned out to be prophetic—my life really did become one of being used and ending up miserable.

But at the time, my brother gave the opposite answer.

“Of course, that might happen. But Seok-ah, thinking of others and treating them with respect doesn’t make you weak—it makes you flexible. You’re not weak at all. You’re someone who carefully weighs every choice, a cautious, thoughtful person.”

Hyung, did I really become that thoughtful person you said I would?

If you were still alive, what advice would you give me now?

Maybe you’d tell me to use even bad experiences as a stepping stone, to dream of a better future.

Even though nothing was resolved, just thinking of you eased my heart. You had always been that kind of presence for me.

So instead of dwelling on the things that had hurt me, I thought about a future that had nothing to do with Given.

And in that future, I found myself wishing Kang Kimoon would be there too. A ridiculous hope, since our time together would only last a month…

But still, the desire to know him a little longer refused to fade.

---

It didn’t matter whether Jung Yohan quit or my father wanted something from me. Living under Kang Kimoon’s roof came at a price, and I had to pay it.

From early morning, I was dragged out to help with farm work.

This time it wasn’t his chili field, but the potato field of the lady who had once given me those orange sausages. She said they were short on hands during harvest.

Kang Kimoon worked like someone born to harvest potatoes.

It was as if he could even see straight through the soil—whenever he dug, potatoes came up in big clusters. To me, who only fumbled around pointlessly, it was truly an astonishing sight.

“Did you ever think about switching from lyricist to full-time farmer?”

At my pure curiosity, laced with awe, Kang Kimoon naturally shot back, “Not a bad idea. Farming suits me.”

Then he looked right at me and added, “If I become a farmer, you’ll come help, right? Don’t worry—I’ll pay you well.”

A line of sweat slid down his forehead, glistening under the blazing sun as it traced down his neck.

Soaked in sweat, he radiated a sensual aura. Even through his thin T-shirt, his body looked solid and firm.

I answered quickly, before he could notice me staring, “No need for payment. If you need help, I’ll help.”

Even after being badly burned from acting like a pushover, I was once again promising generosity without expecting anything in return.

But Kang Kimoon had helped a stranger like me first without asking for anything. So I wanted to return that to him.

The wish I had last night, to stay connected to him longer, had carried over into today.

“Why? Are you gonna stare at my body again while you help?”

Damn. He noticed. I quickly dropped my gaze and let out an awkward cough.

“I’m not saying that you can’t look. Do whatever you want.”

With his rough hand, he mussed my hair a couple of times. And suddenly, I remembered the past—when I’d been caught staring at Jung Yohan.

“Hyung, is there something on my face? You’ve been staring since you’re driving.”

Back then, Jung Yohan’s gaze had been ice-cold.

He hadn’t said much—just silently warned me to stop looking. It was so different from Kang Kimoon’s reaction now.

With Kang Kimoon, I could even tease back.

“Well, whose fault is it, having such a great body?”

I let out a faint laugh, subtly blaming Kang Kimoon. Even though the repeated labor was tiring, I felt nothing but good.

It was then that a middle-aged woman nearby, seeing us exchanging jokes, struck up a conversation.

“Now that I look closer… you really remind me of someone.”