She had expected her sister to drop by tomorrow after classes, but Jeong-yeon showed up at the hospital room late that night instead.
Seeing that her sister wasn’t asleep yet, Jeong-yeon scampered over to ask. Slumped limp across the bed, Yu-yeon answered weakly.
Those twinkling eyes definitely weren’t curious about her sister’s feats in fending off a hack; they were dying to know about everything else. Revealing the whole truth would only send her kid sister into late-night theatrics, making it impossible to share that sort of grown-up talk.
With Yu-yeon denying it repeatedly, her naive sister let it slide well enough. Still, disappointment showed clearly on her face.
“…”
Having received what amounted to a declaration—not quite a confession, but close enough—Yu-yeon tightened up instantly. Once again, her response lagged.
Yu-yeon denied it with all her might, hoping to keep her sister from entertaining any more baseless hopes.
Jeong-yeon grumbled, jutting out her lower lip. It was as though the confession had been meant for her, sulking like a child who hadn’t received an anticipated gift.
“…”
Yu-yeon gently chided her, but Jeong-yeon kept her lip pouted, unwilling to concede the point. At any rate, Yu-yeon felt a secret wave of relief when her sister didn't press her any further about today.
These past two weeks had taught Yu-yeon all too bitterly just how fleeting romance between a man and a woman really was.
Someone who had once seemed the most wonderful, the most lovable person in the world. Someone who made her want to give even more, so grateful was she for the care, respect, and love offered to her. Someone who had made her think spending an entire lifetime together would be wonderful.
Only after belatedly discovering that such a person had stabbed her in the back and walked away long ago did she finally come to her senses.
Every ounce of feeling shared back then, all the years of her youth poured into such a man—she felt only wasted regret.
Instead of spending that time on someone like that, she should have treated her father better. She should have worked harder on developing herself.
At the end of that profound emptiness lay a single conclusion.
Nothing lasts forever.
Nothing was eternal. There was no such thing as ‘true love,’ either. It was merely a fleeting chemical reaction in the brain, driven by hormones. When she considered how foolish human beings became before hormones, romance between a man and a woman was simply laughable.
There was no need to waste precious time on an emotion called love, which left nothing behind but scars once the storm had swept through.
Choi Hyeon-myeong would be the same. Meeting so many people and constantly surrounded by diverse stimuli, he would be even more so.
This sudden, flaring sentiment of his right now would look ridiculous in just a few months, or perhaps even in a few days.
So there was no reason to be shaken.
Because it would all pass.
Hyeon-myeong returned to the company, brought order to the aftermath, and convened a meeting to prepare an official report.
They needed to draft a report by accurately assessing the scope of damage from the incident, identifying the vulnerabilities exposed during defense along with subsequent action items, and evaluating the stability of the currently restored systems.
Afterward, once day broke, they would have to summon the legal team to review legal liabilities and public disclosure obligations, while coordinating with the public relations team to establish a media strategy.
Past midnight, the meeting with the Security Operations Center concluded. After outlining directives for the initial draft, Hyeon-myeong returned to his office.
Going home was out of the question. Leaning his head back against the chair's headrest to catch a moment of sleep while waiting for the draft, Hyeon-myeong let his gaze drift diagonally downward.
He felt as though he could paint Hong Yu-yeon right onto the spot where her wheelchair had been just hours before. The lingering image remained in his head, accompanied by the brisk clatter of keystrokes echoing in his mind.
For just a fleeting instant, had he wished that time would simply stop flowing?
When she successfully repelled the hack and the system stabilized, had he actually felt a touch of regret?
Longing to hold onto that frail woman just a little longer, he had acted childishly, clasping her hand and refusing to let go.
Hyeon-myeong let out a hollow chuckle.
When he had dropped her off in her hospital room and stepped out of habit toward the right side of the bed, she had asked him that.
Her question continued to tickle his muffled ear.
Hyeon-myeong closed his eyes as if inviting sleep.
Twenty-three years ago, the news that a chaebol family's daughter-in-law had suffered an untimely death while handling an excessive workload shocked the nation. The funeral was a dizzying blur under the swarm of reporters.
In the midst of it all, Hyeon-myeong was neglected. While everyone felt pity for the boy who had lost his mother at such a tender age and offered their condolences, no one noticed his lingering illness. It was because Hyeon-myeong never let out a sound of complaint.
It was several weeks after his mother’s funeral that Hyeon-myeong first realized something was wrong with the hearing in his left ear.
After the mourning period ended and he returned to school to play with his friends again, he noticed that voices coming from the friend on his left sounded distant. Even so, Hyeon-myeong told no one.
Time gradually passed, and it was only a year later, upon receiving his son's medical checkup results, that Choi Jun-sik discovered the issue with his son's hearing.
Hyeon-myeong insisted he hadn't known right until the end, but, unable to withstand his father's relentless barrage of questions, he finally confessed the truth. His father, who had not shed a single tear even during his wife’s funeral, clung to his son that day and wept uncontrollably.
Repeating, ‘It’s not your fault, Hyeon-myeong.’
Hyeon-myeong laughed softly to himself, having recalled a distant childhood memory from over twenty years ago all because of Yu-yeon’s question.
He hadn't consciously realized he was walking around the bed to stand on Yu-yeon’s right side. His body had simply moved on its own, finding the direction where he could hear her voice clearly when facing her.
Though the hearing loss couldn’t be cured, Hyeon-myeong had lived without major inconvenience. If anything, there had been times he lived more easily than others by leaning on a father who would do anything for his son out of guilt over that defect.
Today was no exception.
When he woke from a short nap, his father was right in front of him.
Having rushed back to the country from an overseas business trip upon hearing news of the incident at Choi Sun Mulsan, Hyeon-myeong’s father, Choi Jun-sik, had headed straight for his son's office upon landing. The draft report from the Security Operations Center had just arrived as well, saving Hyeon-myeong the trouble of briefing Jun-sik on the situation.
Jun-sik skimmed through the report and offered words of comfort.
A while ago, Jun-sik had asked his son to accompany the chairman to that golf gathering. He had been thrilled when Hyeon-myeong readily agreed, but clearly, what wasn't meant to be couldn't be helped.
“…”
Finding his son's answer reassuring, the father's stoic lips gradually curled upward. As if trying to hide the smile, Jun-sik covered his face with the report.
Turning the pages of the report again, Jun-sik asked with a tilt of his head,
Playfully teasing his son, Jun-sik adjusted his glasses with an eager glint in his eyes.
Asking for an introduction without even knowing who that friend was.
Picturing his father and Hong Yu-yeon sitting across from each other, the same smile formed on Hyeon-myeong’s lips as on his father's. Somehow, he had a feeling the two of them would hit it off remarkably well.
“Do you even have a woman to marry?”
His son, who had always snorted derisively at the very mention of marriage, had suddenly brought up the subject out of nowhere, leaving Jun-sik wondering what nonsense he was spouting now and unable to take it at face value.