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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: A Confession in the Rain
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41.
Yeon-joo followed Mr. Joo to the abandoned dog shelter and was busy the moment she arrived.
For hours, she cleaned kennels, emptied and washed water bowls before refilling them with clean water, and generously portioned out food.
No matter how lovingly they were cared for, the abandoned dogs were starved for attention. They wagged their tails ceaselessly, barked to be noticed, and never took their eyes off Yeon-joo as she moved. Yet, many of them would get scared and hide in a corner when she actually approached, making her heart ache for them the entire time.
She had been working diligently for quite a while. As she wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead, Mr. Joo came over.
“Yeon-joo, have some water.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.”
Yeon-joo took a large gulp of water and looked at Mr. Joo. He, too, was drenched in sweat, and today he seemed like an even greater person than usual.
“How is it, Yeon-joo? It’s tough, isn’t it?”
“It is, but strangely, I feel good. My mind is clear, and I just want to keep doing something.”
“I know what you mean. It’s hard to come the first time, but once you do, you keep coming back.”
A man who quietly fulfilled his calling, even if no one recognized it. A man who knew all too well what it meant to live together.
It had been a long time since she’d met someone whose approach to life she wanted to learn from. The thought that she had made such an upright and honest person do something so terrible followed, and Yeon-joo let out a small, bitter laugh.
“Yeon-joo, why are you laughing? How did you know it was time to eat?”
“I have a dog’s nose. I can smell jjajangmyeon all the way from here.”
How could she handle this man’s pure affection, his sincere heart? A painful thought grew in her mind: how could she protect someone with such an innocent smile?
It felt like the more they met, the more they talked, the more wounds they would have to endure.
“Then let’s go eat, Yeon-joo.”
“Okay. You ordered the large, right?”
“Ah, of course.”
Mr. Joo gestured with a nod for her to follow, and Yeon-joo fell in step behind him.
This kind of life, these kinds of moments, how peaceful they were. To have someone to share such a time with, filled only with a sense of abundance—how grateful she should be.
She knew. She knew all too well.
“Wow, there’s fried rice, too?”
“And jjamppong.”
“Wow.”
“Ta-da. We also have sweet and sour pork.”
“Woooow!”
It was just that she herself had drifted infinitely far from such a life.
*
Tae-gon’s brow furrowed when he heard that Hae-yeong had fired Ju-mi. Though it was the weekend, he was at the office, sitting at his desk in the CEO’s suite, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. *Tuk, tuk.*
Jin Hae-yeong. Jin Hae-yeong.
“Hah… how should I deal with this insolent bitch.”
Ju-mi had tearfully pleaded her case before Tae-gon, professing her unfair dismissal. She had failed to carry out his order to get rid of Yeon-joo and had ended up getting fired herself, so she was desperate to defend herself, fearing his wrath.
She conveniently left out the fact that she had mentioned Tae-gon in front of Hae-yeong. She made it seem as if it never happened, lest it be revealed that he was involved in the attempt to oust Yeon-joo.
Tae-gon’s expression darkened as his anger mounted. The sheer arrogance of Jin Hae-yeong, who had kicked out Ju-mi as if to make a point, sickened him. What was the big deal about adding one person to the team? She held her head so high, oblivious to the heavens above. He would have to crush that pride someday.
“How dare she defy me? The insolent bitch.”
*Hoo.* With a cold gaze, Tae-gon swiveled his chair to look out the glass wall. The view of downtown Seoul spread before him. This place, the Yeonildam headquarters, was situated on prime real estate, even from a Feng Shui perspective.
It was no exaggeration to say that Eun-seong had built this building. A decade ago, they had been in a rented office for 1.3 million won a month. It had taken less than three years to become the owner of a high-rise in Cheongdam-dong.
Wealth, fame, a future—Eun-seong had created it all. It was the natural outcome. Considering the investment and effort poured into making Eun-seong a top star, these were things he was rightfully owed in return.
“Of all times for such a nuisance to pop up.”
A headache brewing, he pressed his temples. Eun-seong’s contract was due to expire soon, which was why he was on edge.
He didn't doubt that Eun-seong would remain with the agency as he always had, but you could never be sure with people. It was a time when he needed to be more vigilant than ever, so even a tiny crack like this was enough to make his irritation flare.
He had to keep a tight grip on Eun-seong. After all the work he’d put into raising him, he couldn’t lose him now.
“If we can just get through this season, I can breathe a little easier.”
Once this movie was finished, Eun-seong would have to go back to his long string of overseas schedules. Nothing was confirmed yet, pending the contract renewal, but there was a packed list of potential projects waiting for review.
Once the contract was successfully renewed, he would never schedule work in Korea again. Tae-gon gritted his teeth and turned back to his desk.
He opened a desk drawer to look over Eun-seong’s contract again. As he pulled out a few confidential documents, a file slipped out and fell.
It was the file containing information on the cast of the current movie.
Tae-gon leaned back deep into his chair and opened it. The profiles were ordered by the significance of the role, with Eun-seong’s at the very front, followed by the rest. He scanned them with a dry, detached gaze until his eyes landed on Han-byeol’s profile at the very end.
Each profile had been prepared by the actor’s respective agency. Han-byeol’s, having no notable credits, was quite sparse, listing only his stage name and the elementary school he was attending.
“Han-byeol? Is that his real name or what?”
He muttered dismissively, then slowly closed and opened his eyes. He stared at the description—second grade of elementary school—then studied the child’s face for a long time.
Perhaps it was because he was looking at him with the knowledge that he was Go Yeon-joo’s son, but the child strongly resembled his mother. He had the same features, looking as if they’d been perfectly formed from birth.
He had the air of a clear, clean stream where the sediment had settled, undisturbed. In particular, his well-defined lips, which largely shaped his expression, were an undeniable match to Go Yeon-joo’s.
But then, for a moment, a strange feeling crept in.
After staring at Han-byeol’s face, he glanced over at a photo of Eun-seong on the corner of his desk. It was from Eun-seong’s debut, so his face was much younger than it was now.
He looked back at Han-byeol, then back at Eun-seong. Then he covered Han-byeol’s nose and mouth to look only at his eyes, and did the same with Eun-seong’s photo.
After staring for a long while, Tae-gon picked up the phone.
─ Yes, Daepyonim.
“That child actor in Eun-seong’s movie, Han-byeol. Contact Changrok and tell them I want to see his detailed profile. Right now.”
His other hand, holding the file, tightened its grip.
*
Yeon-joo stayed at the shelter until dusk. After lunch, she continued with tasks like bathing and grooming the dogs, while Mr. Joo examined and treated the sick ones.
Though they were in the same space, they had no time to talk. They worked up a sweat, each doing their own part in their own corner.
As they were finishing up, it began to rain. Leaving the shelter, Yeon-joo got into the car with a mix of complex emotions. She had realized that a single day of volunteering wouldn’t solve anything, so she didn’t feel the clean satisfaction of having tied up a loose end.
Words didn’t come easily, so she and Mr. Joo drove in silence. When he pulled up in front of the animal hospital, Yeon-joo got out.
‘I’ll be waiting. Have a good weekend date with Mr. Joo.’
She had to suppress the urge to check the time again and again.
“Thanks to you, I had a very meaningful experience. Thank you so much.”
“There was a lot of physical work, but you stuck with it to the end. I should be the one thanking you.”
“I wasn’t thinking about anything while I was there, but now that it’s over, my mind is racing. I think I should start volunteering with Han-byeol from time to time.”
“In that case, don’t forget to include me every time.”
At the end of her reflection, Mr. Joo declared his intention to join her, and Yeon-joo let out a calm breath. It was time to conclude their arrangement; she had to tie a firm knot at the end of this path.
“Um, Mr. Joo.”
“Let me speak first today, Yeon-joo.”
Mr. Joo cut her off. It was as if he was determined not to be caught off guard this time, perhaps even bringing up something he had prepared.
“I’ve thought a lot about what you said to me the other day.”
‘I’m very grateful to you, and I also feel very sorry. I don’t want to let those feelings grow any larger. I have neither the right nor the confidence.’
“Why would Yeon-joo say something like that to me?”
‘I don’t think I’m in a position to receive your attention and consideration. I hope I don’t have to feel so inadequate and embarrassed in front of you anymore.’
“I figured you must have found out that I like you.”
“How could I not know? I’m not that clueless.”
“Exactly. I tried to hide it, but it was pretty obvious, wasn't it? I guess I’m not cut out to be an actor.”
Mr. Joo scratched his head with an embarrassed look. Standing under the awning of the animal hospital to avoid the drizzling autumn rain, he continued in a low voice.
“To a human, a dog isn’t everything, but to a dog, its owner is the entire world. Our positions are a little different.”
“What?”
Yeon-joo’s eyes widened at the sudden mention of animals. Mr. Joo hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
“I used to think that was only true for the relationship between humans and animals, but for the first time, I realized it could be true for relationships between people, too.”
“…”
“So, uh, what I mean is, I may not be the whole world to you, Yeon-joo. But for me. To me, you are.”
Even if his unconfident voice trailed off. Even if the sound of our presence was washed away by the rain drumming on the awning.
I felt like I knew what he was going to say next.
“Dogs know. They know very well. They know that even though their owner is all they have, as precious and vital as they are, it can’t be the same for the owner.”
“Mr. Joo…”
“So, Yeon-joo, you should live your life. I think that will be enough. I may be nothing to you right now, and that’s why I don’t expect anything from you.”
“…”
“Not… yet.”
The wind shifted, and rain lashed under the awning. Mr. Joo turned his body, shielding her from the downpour.
She lifted her gaze to look at him. The words she wanted to say, the words she needed to say, were washed away, erased by the rain.
A time when the autumn rain stole everything. Only his fumbling, trembling voice colored the night.
“I like you, Yeon-joo.”
Here, before me, this man—
He might be the first chance given to me by the gods, who had always been so harsh and indifferent.
A chance to steady my hopelessly wavering heart. A single chance given just to me, telling me not to let go, to hold onto this man.
“So please, just a little, give me a little chance, no, a little time.”
“…”
“Please, Yeon-joo.”
That man, he was not the one.
