Come Back

Choi Hong-seo, who had been shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of hallucinations, stopped.

He tightly grasped the edge of the sofa and raised his head.

Lee Hae-seong’s face, with his brow furrowed and lips pressed tight, looked both angry and as if he might cry at any moment.

It was different from the face he had made when he had been accusing “Yoon Hye-an” earlier. This expression revealed emotional turmoil and vulnerability.

For a brief moment, as if regretting showing this side of himself to Yoon Hye-an, he rubbed his jaw and turned his head.

Choi Hong-seo could tell that Lee Hae-seong was exercising patience.

Because of Yoon Hye-an, who kept bringing up things that only Lee Hae-seong and Choi Hong-seo knew — he was being shaken now. It was as if Yoon Hye-an kept touching wounds that had been waiting to heal.

And he probably didn’t want anyone other than Choi Hong-seo to touch those wounds.

Yet, Choi Hong-seo could also tell that Lee Hae-seong was trying to approach the situation rationally, using his reasoning.

After a brief sigh, he turned back toward Choi Hong-seo and was completely back to his usual calm demeanor.

“It seems that Yoon Hye-an is projecting information about others onto herself while in a state of amnesia. — A specialist diagnosed her condition this way.”

“What does that… mean?”

“Yoon Hye-an has lost her memory of who she is and what kind of person she was. In this state, if she were to learn detailed information about Choi Hong-seo, she might want to replace her past with information about him instead of recalling her own past. — That’s the implication.”

“Ah…”

Choi Hong-seo muttered in astonishment and lowered his gaze.

He fumbled to find his teacup and wrapped both hands around it. The tea had become lukewarm by now. He didn’t intend to drink it, just silently feeling the temperature of the tea.

“If Yoon Hye-an wants, I’ll help her receive counseling and treatment.”

Lee Hae-seong’s voice, which Choi Hong-seo had often liked, now spoke in a calm, businesslike manner.

“There’s a specialist active in New York and Boston, and they offer virtual consultations. It would be good for her to visit them once or twice for physical exams, but the priority is not to burden the patient emotionally, so we suggested starting with counseling.”

His tone was never forceful. But it was clear that he was somewhat anxious, hoping that “Yoon Hye-an” would accept.

He didn’t look up, his gaze still fixed on the table, so Choi Hong-seo couldn’t see his face.

Only a deep sigh, almost like a breath, could be heard. It seemed as if he was trying hard to control himself, to prevent “Yoon Hye-an” from running away.

“I understand that you don’t want to go back to your previous life. You’re probably afraid of facing an undesirable past.”

His voice turned gentle, trying to reassure.

“However, regaining your memory doesn’t necessarily mean the current Yoon Hye-an will disappear. If we approach the erased memories carefully and systematically, there’s a much higher chance that you’ll remember everything before and after the accident. That’s why it’s even more important to get careful treatment from a skilled specialist.”

He did not believe in supernatural or unscientific phenomena.

Even a director like Kang Woo-hyun, who adheres to shamanistic beliefs, would probably not entertain the idea that the dead Choi Hong-seo had awakened in Yoon Hye-an’s body. It was an entirely different matter compared to using divine sight to predict the future or view the past.

Let alone Lee Hae-seong, who had no superstitions, except for a routine related to his tie and no other kind of jinx—there was no reason for him to entertain such an idea. His approach to solving this issue with medicine was completely rational.

As he gently stroked the surface of the teacup with his thumb, Choi Hong-seo quietly voiced his thoughts that had been forming while listening to Lee Hae-seong’s story.

“You still believe that I’m simply mimicking Choi Hong-seo based on information I obtained somewhere, don’t you? That once I recover my past memories, I’ll stop imitating him… That’s what you think, isn’t it?”

“It’s the best solution I could come up with. I hope you understand.”

His tone was serious and cautious, yet there was an undeniable sense of finality, as though there were no room for discussion. He clearly had no intention of letting Yoon Hye-an go, someone who had detailed information about Choi Hong-seo.

Choi Hong-seo bit his lower lip tightly, almost hard enough to make the teacup slip from his hand. The transparent, light green tea inside the cup was trembling. He stared at the shaking liquid and then spoke as though releasing a breath.

“If I receive that counseling…”

“……”

“Will you be able to trust me a little more, Vice President?”

Choi Hong-seo’s voice was trembling, just like the tea in his hand.

“Of course.”

The answer was brief and direct.

Choi Hong-seo nodded slowly.

“Then, I’ll do it. I’ll receive the counseling.”

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and his shoes stopped right across from the table.

“I will support everything. Yoon Hye-an will only need to take an hour once a week to consult with the expert.”

When he looked up courageously, Lee Hae-seong was faintly smiling. If this helped reassure him even a little, there was no reason to resist or refuse. After all, Choi Hong-seo didn’t have the courage to give up being by his side.

Looking up at him, Choi Hong-seo spoke as though praying to a god.

“But in return, I have one request.”

His expression was generous. He looked as though he would grant any request.

“Until you find evidence that I learned those things from somewhere, I hope you won’t doubt me.”

Lee Hae-seong tilted his head slightly, and Choi Hong-seo added an explanation.

“I mean… that you won’t suspect that I’m trying to use this as leverage to ask you for something.”

“……”

“Until you find evidence, or until I actually ask you for something… I’m innocent, right?”

Your guess is correct.

It is true that I know about Choi Hong-seo and the events between Choi Hong-seo and you.

That statement was, in effect, an indirect acknowledgment.

He was aware that there was no way to deny it now, having come too far to feign ignorance.

But he knew that Lee Hae-seong would not be able to find proof. It wasn’t that he had obtained information from somewhere—after all, the person who knew about Choi Hong-seo’s details was himself, the one Lee Hae-seong recognized as “Yoon Hye-an.”

“Until then, I ask that you don’t doubt me. Is that all you want?”

“Yes.”

The counseling would be kept secret from the company and other acquaintances.

Lee Hae-seong agreed to receive updates on the progress from the doctor, acting as a guardian.

He laid down those two conditions.

And he promised to keep the fact that Yoon Hye-an was receiving counseling, and the contents of the counseling, confidential.

He also offered to assign a trustworthy translator to ensure discretion during the sessions. If Yoon Hye-an didn’t want anyone else to know about the details, he even offered to personally translate the sessions himself.

“Can I think about the details slowly?”

He glanced down at Choi Hong-seo’s trembling hands wrapped around the teacup and nodded.

“Of course.”

“Then, I’ll leave now.”

Choi Hong-seo stood up, taking the perfume, wrapping paper, and ribbon with him.

“Right. I’ve held onto the protagonist for too long. I’ll head out first.”

He pulled out a cigarette and made a slight gesture with his chin. At times like this, he had a rebellious air about him. He wore an expensive suit and spoke in an intellectual, dignified manner, but in an instant, he could shift his attitude and seem like a delinquent.

Choi Hong-seo looked at him briefly as he exhaled a long stream of smoke, then began to walk toward the door.

Halfway to the door, he heard a dry voice behind him.

“Looking at Yoon Hye-an makes me feel like it’s unfair.”

He stopped and turned halfway toward the voice.

By that point, Lee Hae-seong had sat down on the sofa, smoking a cigarette. Leaning forward with his elbow on his thigh, he blew out a cloud of smoke and flicked the ash away.

“If only that kid… Yoon Hye-an, instead of jumping from a building, had jumped from a bridge…”

When he said “jumped,” his voice became tense and unstable.

“Maybe then, there would have been a chance for him to come back to life. That thought keeps haunting me.”

He took his hand off the ashtray and looked up, directly meeting ‘Yoon Hye-an’s’ gaze.

“Why? Is what I’m saying cruel?”

“……”

“He said I was a good person, that he supported me, but the truth is, I’m the kind of person who, even when witnessing a miracle happening to someone else, can’t think of anyone but myself.”

It seemed like he was warning not to expect him to let go easily, just because he pretended to play along.

Taking another deep drag from his cigarette, he asked in a thick, slurred voice.

“Do you know what Hong-seo said? That I was a good person?”

“……”

“Do you know how much comfort I received from that blind belief that I was always a good person, that child’s belief? Does Yoon Hye-an know that?”

His gaze, now no longer calm, was filled with resentment, anger, and longing, making him appear drunk on emotions.

“You’re the one who knows everything about us, aren’t you, Yoon Hye-an? Like some kind of god.”

His disheveled eyes seemed to challenge anyone to say something. His dry lips parted, and Choi Hong-seo finally managed to squeeze out a response.

“Even if you don’t know that, I still think you’re a good person.”

“How would Yoon Hye-an know that?”

He sneered bitterly as he brought the cigarette to his lips.

“Even though you don’t like me, you still helped me earlier.”

“……”

Before he could take another drag, his hand paused. He gazed at Choi Hong-seo with tired eyes, and Choi Hong-seo lowered his head, quickly leaving the room. He wanted to comfort him, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t cry in front of him while he was in such pain.

After placing the gift box down, the attendant, who had been waiting outside the lounge, bowed respectfully toward Choi Hong-seo. They exchanged greetings and hurried their steps.

The spot on his wrist, where Lee Hae-seong had personally sprayed the perfume, burned as if it had been scalded. The scent that emanated from that spot was entirely different from what he had given him before.

But it didn’t matter. After all, at least it was something he had given.

He lifted his wrist to his nose, inhaling the fragrance, and blended into the loud music and lights.