Tae-eun cautiously opened her bedroom door and used the intercom to unlock the gate ahead of time. Her anxious gaze then drifted toward the firmly shut master bedroom door, worried that the keen-eared dog might bark.
She knew it was crazy, but she desperately needed Ji Hyun-ho right then, which was why she had called him the moment she woke up. She had hoped his voice would steady her, but instead, he was on his way to her in the dead of night.
Soon, she saw the front door slowly open. Hyun-ho entered quietly, muffling his footsteps. She walked toward a dimly lit room first, and he followed, carrying his sneakers.
“Come here.”
He locked the door behind them and immediately pulled her into an embrace. A faint, musky scent enveloped her completely. She clung to his waist and buried her face deep in his chest.
“Shh, it’s okay.”
Tae-eun nodded silently. It was just a particularly vivid dream, nothing more—dreams about the very man in front of her, so vivid they were frightening. While such experiences weren’t common, she knew they weren’t harmful either. Right now, she was safe in her room with Hyun-ho, not in that dream.
She disentangled herself from his embrace and climbed onto the bed, scooting against the wall to make space for him. He understood her cue and shed his coat. They lay side by side, each claiming half the pillow, bathed in the warm glow of the bedside lamp.
“Is this what déjà vu feels like?”
She muttered, gazing into his eyes, which mirrored the lamp’s amber light.
“What do you mean?”
“Why doesn’t it feel strange that you’re here on my bed?”
It felt familiar as if he’d comforted her in this bed many times before.
Hyun-ho smiled softly, brushing her hair with his fingers, his touch so gentle she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and revel in it.
“I don’t think I’ve ever dreamed this before. Is it just me dreaming it?”
His face softened under the yellow light, his lips slightly curved, making her want to touch them.
He had seemed so adamant when he brought that camellia bush over as a gift and asked her out, but here he was, comforting her in the early hours after just a nightmare. His presence felt incredibly comforting.
That made her open up a bit.
“It was my horrible boss.”
Hyun-ho seemed to understand immediately who she was referring to. His hand, which had been softly stroking the back of her head, paused for a moment.
“I quit because of him. I must still be stressed about it.”
Tae-eun briefly shared about the difficult two years she’d endured. She wasn’t ready to delve deeper, and she didn’t want to dampen the mood with heavy topics.
The man, who had been silently pondering, resumed stroking her head and spoke again.
“What was his name?”
“…Ha Sung-joo.”
“His position?”
“Deputy Director.”
She had expected him to probe further, but he nodded, deciding that was enough information. She pressed her face close enough to brush noses with him and asked, “Why? Planning to scold him for me?”
“Yeah.”
His earnest response made her eyes widen—a reassuring feeling just from hearing his intent.
“Don’t worry about it and try to sleep. I’ll sneak out once you’re asleep.”
Hyun-ho’s lips drew near. She braced for a rough kiss, but he merely pressed his lips gently against hers and then pulled away. As the soft sensation faded, she twitched her lips, basking in the lingering warmth.
“Want more?”
He playfully nuzzled her nose as he asked. Tae-eun nodded eagerly, making his eyes narrow with a mischievous glint.
“You really do like kisses, huh?”
His hand, which had been petting the back of her head, drifted down to caress the nape of her neck gently. His lips curved into a relaxed smile as they drew closer.
“I’ll try harder with the sex.”
Before Tae-eun could roll her eyes, their lips warmly met again. A soft, mushy sound accompanied the closure of her eyes.
Hyun-ho kept the kiss until she exhaled slowly, waiting until she was completely asleep before he ceased his vigilance. His thoughtful gaze wandered over her peaceful face for a long time.
It was still the dark hour before dawn, but in 30 minutes, Tae-eun’s parents would be waking up. He carefully got up and turned off the stand light, plunging the room into darkness. Despite the lack of light, he could see every detail of her, down to her eyelashes.
Quietly, he moved and left the house.
Normally, he had to make an effort to walk noisily and pretend to be sick even when he wasn’t—otherwise, his all-too-adapted body would not operate quite humanly.
When he returned to the café, a low-slung bright yellow sports car was parked by the curb. A man wearing a coat worth nearly ten million won stood by it.
“It’s been a while.”
Nam Jeong-tak bowed deeply. The man, now in his early forties, had waxed his hair even at this early hour and dressed in a fine silk Hanbok*1T/N: Korean traditional clothing. under his jacket.
“You must have a lot of customers.”
Hyun-ho nodded toward the sports car he hadn’t seen during their last meeting.
“Wasn’t there a local election last year? Just like the candidates, shamans are busy around election time.”
Nam Jeong-tak waved his hand modestly. Hyun-ho walked past the low wall to the backyard, with Nam’s footsteps hurriedly following.
“So, you must be making good money again with the upcoming association chairman elections.”
“It’s quite profitable. People’s nature is to cling to spirits or seek to know the future when they are anxious.”
Nam Jeong-tak was a powerful shaman, well-known even to politicians in Yeouido and chaebol*2T/N: a large industrial conglomerate often operated by an individual or a family. Think of Samsung, LG, Hyundai. They are the rich kids you see in K-dramas. chairmen who visited Jeju Island with envelopes of cash. It wasn’t strange for him to afford a few more flashy sports cars.
“I heard you brought in a new evil spirit. Didn’t ask me this time?”
“Didn’t Nam Dae-hyung tell you when he passed his energy to you?”
Hyun-ho turned his head to the side, looking up at the only ancient tree that survived in the backyard, his eyes glaringly bright in the dark surroundings.
“That energy was on loan from me.”
“I was just trying to ease your burden as a servant.”
Unlike Nam Dae-hyung, who had quietly served, his son Nam Jeong-tak often manipulated words cleverly. Hyun-ho considered reclaiming the energy but always postponed the decision, thinking it beneficial to have a gofer.
If he continued to mimic being human, he definitely needed someone like Nam Jeong-tak, dangerously dancing on the line.
“Ha Sung-joo, Deputy Director of Daesung Semiconductors.”
Hyun-ho, staring at the frozen goblins, gave an order without taking his eyes off them.
“Investigate him. There’s a dead person, Lee Ye-jin, related to that as well.”
“Does this involve that lady?”
The air around twisted suddenly, and the cold breeze that had been nipping at the nose halted. The goblins flattened themselves to the ground.
Hyun-ho was still looking up at the old tree, but Nam Jeong-tak, standing behind him, started gasping, clutching his throat.
The flushed-faced shaman collapsed to the ground, drooling. It was as if invisible hands were strangling him; he frantically scratched at his neck. His long nails drew blood from his tender skin.
“How dare you mention that person?”
A sharp voice cut through the disjointed air, striking the shaman repeatedly.
“Ugh, ack…!”
“Report back to me immediately if Song Tae-eun’s name comes up in your investigation of those two.”
Nam Jeong-tak’s well-groomed head hit the ground. His face was turning purple. His expensive shoes crushed the grass beneath him.
“If personal feelings interfere with this investigation, I’ll replace you as my errand runner.”
The disturbed air slowly resettled. Nam Jeong-tak’s upper body abruptly righted itself, and he coughed violently.
“The only reason I’ve tolerated your nonsense is that it’s been too bothersome to deal with.”
Hyun-ho turned around and lightly tapped the shaman on the shoulder. The loud coughing stopped instantly.
“So cut the antics and focus on what you’re told to do.”
“Yes, yes, master.”
Nam Jeong-tak bowed repeatedly as he left the backyard. Shortly after, the sports car roared out of the quiet neighborhood.
Though he appeared to comply meekly now, the shaman might still provoke him once he learned the results of the investigation.
But now that he could finally make Song Tae-eun his own, he didn’t want to do anything that might raise her suspicions. After all, isn’t that what errand runners are for—to handle the messy and tedious tasks, right?
Having stayed up all night, Hyun-ho went upstairs with clear, alert eyes. As soon as he opened the front door, disheveled slippers caught his eye. His gaze shifted to the bed, where the sheets were half off, and clothes had fallen off their hangers in the closet.
His usually meticulous space had become a mess because of a single call from Song Tae-eun.
His facial muscles tightened slightly. He pondered the extent of her influence on him as he slowly surveyed the chaotic room.
For the first time, he had been curious about someone. Later, he wanted to keep her close and observe her—and he even developed a sexual desire. Since he was inhabiting a human body now, such desires were natural and not problematic.
But… wasn’t this a bit odd?
The signs of his hasty departure almost made it seem like he genuinely cared for Song Tae-eun. He couldn’t understand why he had rushed out at her tearful call, after having driven her into a nightmare.
“Sigh…”
Hyun-ho rubbed his cheek with a dry palm and stood there for a long time. Dawn passed by, leaving him without answers.
🍉🍉🍉
