CHAPTER 63
Hours later, Noeul found Yujin in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. She looked up the moment she saw him.
“Oh.”
Noeul stopped. “What?”
Yujin lowered the phone slowly. “You’re going out looking like that?”
He glanced down at himself. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” Her eyes moved over his carefully styled hair, the scarf, and the clothes he had spent far too long choosing. “That’s the problem.”
Noeul frowned. “You’re starting to sound like Duri.”
“Impossible. I’m much more charming.”
A quiet laugh escaped him. Yujin smiled, then her expression softened.
“You look well, Noeul.”
The laughter disappeared. Noeul looked away. “I’m getting there.”
“I know.”
She didn’t say better.
He appreciated that.
Yujin took another sip of coffee. “Where are you three going?”
“Coffee. Dinner. Ji-Woo’s gallery.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“I’m trying something new.”
“Having a social life?”
“Leaving the building.”
Yujin’s smile faded.
Noeul rubbed his thumb against the edge of his scarf. “I haven’t gone out properly yet.”
“I know.”
“I thought today might be…” He searched for the word.
“Possible?”
Noeul nodded.
Yujin set her cup down. “Then possible is enough.”
He looked at her. She picked up a small umbrella from beside the counter and handed it to him.
“Spring rain.”
Noeul accepted it automatically.
“And before you complain, I checked the weather.”
“I wasn’t going to complain.”
“You were thinking about it.”
“I really see where Duri gets it now.”
Yujin smiled, then reached for something else on the counter. A small container.
“What’s that?”
“Food.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Kang.”
“You’re going out for hours.”
“We’re eating.”
“And if you don’t?”
Noeul opened his mouth. Yujin raised an eyebrow. He sighed and took the container.
“Fine.”
“Excellent.”
“You’re very controlling.”
Yujin’s expression changed immediately.
Noeul realized what he had said. For a second, silence settled between them.
Then Yujin answered carefully. “You can leave it here if you don’t want it.”
Noeul looked at the container in his hand. He shook his head. “No.” He slipped it into his bag. “I want it.”
Yujin nodded. “Then take it.”
Noeul looked at her for a moment. “Mrs. Kang.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve thanked me enough.”
“Not for this.”
Yujin waited.
Noeul smiled faintly. “For making everything feel normal.”
Her expression changed. She looked away before he could see too much of it.
“Well.” She picked up her coffee again. “Someone in this family has to be normal.”
From the hallway, Duri shouted, “I heard that!”
Yujin raised her voice. “Then fix your hair!”
Noeul laughed. A real one.
Duri appeared a moment later, offended. “My hair is perfect.”
“That’s what worries me.”
Ji-Woo walked past him toward the elevator. “If we miss our reservation because of your hair, I’m leaving you here.”
Duri muttered something in German. Noeul shook his head and followed them.
At the door, he glanced back. Yujin was still standing in the kitchen. She lifted her cup toward him.
“Have fun, Noeul.”
“I’ll try.”
Yujin smiled.
The three of them left the penthouse together. Ji-Woo wore his usual bright streetwear, playful and impossible to miss. Duri looked more like himself in a black leather jacket over a gray hoodie, torn black jeans, and rings that caught the light whenever he moved.
Noeul had taken longer to get ready. Dark blue trousers.
A beige turtleneck beneath a crisp white shirt.
A knitted scarf. He had styled his hair carefully.
Followed his skincare routine. Chosen every piece deliberately.
It wasn’t vanity. For weeks, his body had felt like something that had happened to him.
Today, dressing it felt like choosing it again.
When the elevator doors opened, Noeul stopped.
Only for a second. Duri noticed. So did Ji-Woo.
Neither said anything. Noeul stared at the lobby.
The concierge. The polished marble. People coming and going.
Nothing threatening. Nothing remarkable.
Still, his pulse began to race. His hand tightened around the strap of his bag.
Duri stayed beside him. Not touching. Just there.
Noeul drew in a breath, then stepped out.
One step.
Then another.
The concierge glanced up and offered a polite greeting. Two female visitors whispered to each other as they passed. Noeul caught only fragments.
Handsome.
Model?
Under other circumstances, he might have laughed. Today, he simply kept walking.
The doors opened to the street. Cool air touched his face.
Noeul stopped again. This time, for a different reason.
He breathed in. Flowers. Traffic. Coffee from somewhere nearby.
People talking. A dog barking. A bus pulling away from the curb.
The city had continued without him. For weeks, that thought had frightened him. Now, strangely, it comforted him.
Ji-Woo walked a little ahead, already absorbed in messages with his new partner. Duri stayed closer.
Too close. Noeul glanced at him. “You’re doing it again.”
Duri looked innocent. “Doing what?”
“Watching everyone like they’re about to attack me.”
Duri considered this, then stepped in front of him and focused all his attention on Noeul.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching you instead.”
Noeul tried not to smile, but failed.
He was still smiling when his phone began to vibrate inside his coat. He pulled it out.
Eomma.
The smile faded slightly. He stared at the screen for a moment before answering.
“Eomma.”
“Noeul, my boy.”
His mother’s voice was enough to make something tighten inside his chest.
“Are you all right? You haven’t called in days.”
“I’m fine.”
The answer came automatically.
Too automatically.
Duri glanced at him but said nothing.
“We’ve been worried,” his mother continued. “Your father keeps asking whether I’ve heard from you. Ji-Woo tells us you’re getting better, but… I wanted to hear your voice myself.”
Noeul lowered his gaze to the sidewalk as they walked. “I’m getting better,” he corrected gently. “I’m not there yet.”
There was a brief silence.
“Are you still staying with Duri and his mother?”
“Yes. They’ve taken good care of me.”
“And where are you now?”
Noeul looked around him. People passed in both directions. Cars moved through the street. Petals from late-spring blossoms drifted across the sidewalk, carried by the wind.
For some reason, saying it aloud felt important.
“I’m outside.”
“Outside?”
A faint smile touched his lips. “Yes, eomma. I went out today. I’m with Ji-Woo and Duri.”
His mother exhaled, the sound almost trembling with relief. “That’s good, Noeul.”
“I know.”
“Come home when you feel ready. Your father and I want to see you.”
Noeul was quiet for a few steps.
Home.
There were too many meanings attached to that word now.
“I will,” he said at last. “Soon. I promise.”
“You don’t have to stay long. Just come eat with us.”
“I’ll come for dinner.”
“Really?”
Noeul smiled. “Really. I’ll call you first.”
His mother’s voice softened. “I’ll make your favorite.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. But I’m making it anyway.”
That made him laugh quietly. “All right. Tell Appa I’m fine.”
“Tell him yourself. He misses you.”
Noeul swallowed. “I will.”
After ending the call, he kept the phone in his hand for a moment. Ji-Woo glanced back at him.
“Eomma?”
Noeul nodded.
“What did she want?”
“To hear my voice.”
Ji-Woo’s expression softened. Noeul slipped the phone back into his coat.
“I told her I’d visit soon.”
“Good.”
Duri said nothing. He simply continued walking beside him.
The gallery wasn’t far. As they approached, Noeul felt anticipation beginning to replace the tension in his chest.
Art had always been one of the few things capable of quieting his mind. The thought of seeing Ji-Woo’s exhibition space made him strangely excited.
He followed his brother through the entrance. The familiar smell of polished floors and fresh paint greeted them. Noeul looked around. He immediately searched for the wall he had asked his brother to reserve for his art.
Then he saw him.
Chung-Hee.
Noeul stopped.
The air vanished from his lungs.
He stood several meters away in his usual tailored gray suit, immaculate as ever, beside Jun and Kija. They were speaking with one of the gallery coordinators.
Chung-Hee hadn’t seen him yet.
For one terrible second, Noeul could only stare.
Then Chung-Hee turned.
Noeul wanted to shout, to demand answers, to ask him how love had turned into something so cruel. Instead, he exhaled.
For a brief moment, their eyes met.
For one terrible second, Noeul felt himself back inside that apartment.
Then Duri shifted beside him.
Ji-Woo was there too.
Noeul breathed.
I’m not there anymore.
When Chung-Hee’s initial shock passed, he offered a faint smile, almost instinctively, as if some part of him still believed they could slip back into the complicated intimacy they once shared.
Noeul didn’t return it.
Something in Chung-Hee’s expression changed.
Noeul took a few steps toward them, then stopped. He didn’t know whether what remained between them was anger, grief, or simply the hollow ache of something that should never have become what it did.
But he knew one thing. He didn’t want to go back.
“Kija. Mr. Han.”
He bowed politely, pointedly ignoring the third man.
Jun reacted first, his face breaking into a warm, genuine smile. “Noeul, did you change careers and start modeling?” he teased. “You look incredible.”
Noeul smiled back, something Ji-Woo and Duri did not mirror. “Thank you. I’ve been well taken care of,” he said softly, gesturing toward his brother and Duri. “It’s good to see you both. Are you doing well?”
Jun stepped closer and rested a hand briefly on Noeul’s shoulder. Noeul’s body tensed for half a second, then relaxed.
He didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away.
He knew whose hand it was. He understood the kindness behind the gesture.
“Always,” Jun replied. “Busy with the company, as you remember.”
Kija approached next, his eyes fixed on Noeul. Even surrounded by art, he seemed as captivated by him as he had been the first time they met.
“My new exhibition opens this weekend,” he said at last.
Duri shifted subtly closer to Noeul. He didn’t interfere, but his attention moved constantly between Kija and Chung-Hee, watchful and alert.
Noeul cleared his throat. “I heard. Time Lapse, right? I’m looking forward to it. We’ve already planned to attend.”
“It would be an honor,” Kija replied, barely containing his excitement.
Ji-Woo took a step forward; his attention was fixed entirely on Chung-Hee. His hand clenched at his side. For a split second, his intention was obvious.
Noeul reacted instantly. He reached out, fingers wrapping firmly around Ji-Woo’s wrist.
Not pleading.
Not panicked.
Steady.
“No.”
Ji-Woo looked at him. Noeul held his gaze.
“Not for me.”
Ji-Woo’s jaw remained tight, but slowly, reluctantly, he stepped back. “We should go,” he said sharply. “We’ll be late for our reservation.”
“Yes. Of course.”
Noeul reached into his bag and pulled out two VIP invitations. He offered them to Jun and Kija with both hands, bowing slightly.
“It was a pleasure seeing you. These are invitations to the exhibition Ji-Woo and I are hosting. I’d be happy if you could come.”
“Absolutely,” Jun said.
Noeul turned specifically to him. “And… thank you for your help that day, Mr. Han.”
“You never need to thank me for that.”
Noeul bowed anyway, then straightened.
He didn’t look at Chung-Hee.
“Lee Chung-Hee.”
Chung-Hee went still.
“You still have my ID and passport. Please leave them with the concierge.”
He continued before the man could answer. “I also need the money I had saved for Ji-Woo’s tuition. Leave the card with my documents or send me the account information so I can transfer it myself.”
“Noeul.”
“No.”
The word came quietly.
Noeul finally looked at him.
“I don’t want to discuss anything else with you.”
Chung-Hee stared at him. Tears gathered in his eyes, but Noeul forced himself not to respond to them.
“My passport and ID,” Noeul repeated. “And my money. That’s all.”
Then he turned away.
Duri fell into step beside him. Ji-Woo followed on the other side.
Noeul walked toward the gallery coordinator without looking back.