Chapter 66.2

Chapter 66.2

The next day.

And the day after that.

It was always the same. Goyo could only fall asleep after crying, trembling, and fighting in his arms until her strength gave out.

In the mornings, when Jae-heon left for work, she would lie on the couch, blankly watching TV until he came back.

The enormous flat-screen on one wall was large enough to rival a theater. The ceiling-mounted speakers pounded bass so deep it echoed through the house. Thanks to the state-of-the-art home theater system, she binge-watched all the dramas, movies, and variety shows she had missed.

But the content never really registered.

Her mind drifted, unfocused. Then, little by little, memories she didn’t want surfaced like misty hallucinations.

One image overlapped another. Then another layered on top. Then another.

The most recent fragment was of her father—screaming as he shielded her small body in his arms. The room around them had been splattered in blood.

“I’ll… I’ll kill them a—all—kkzzzt—kkk.”

A shrill, unfamiliar voice. One she’d never heard before. Somewhere behind it, a siren wailed in the distance.

Images flickered in and out like a broken film reel. Black and white. Out of sync. Her father’s voice blurred by static. Then silence.

A chaos of puzzle pieces thrown across her mind. Her skull felt like it was going to split open.

“Close your eyes.”

“The horror isn’t what you see.”

“Forget what happened here today. You never saw me.”

A pair of polished black dress shoes nudged the blood-soaked body of her father, sprawled on the floor.

Yi-taek had always claimed he hadn’t been there.

But the memories surfacing in Goyo’s mind were telling a different story.

Lee Chul-woo. Lee Goyo. Lee Yoon-gun. Lee Yi-taek.

And someone else—a fifth figure.

What was it Yi-taek had been so desperate for her to forget?

Why had he locked her in that cold, dark room—whispering, yelling, coaxing, threatening—until she buried the truth and replaced it with a lie?

Urk—

The nausea hit her hard. Goyo clapped a hand over her mouth and stumbled into the bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet just in time to vomit up a stream of yellow bile.

Hhhk—urk.

The terror that everything she had believed until now might be a lie…

Each returning memory made her body and soul feel like they were being torn apart by the weight of the truth.

She gripped the toilet and let her head fall forward, tears spilling down her cheeks.

What am I supposed to do with this…

I just want to forget it all…

January 7th, 7:20 p.m.

Taehan Hotel Restaurant

“Why isn’t he here yet?”

Goyo glanced toward the entrance, then back down at her phone.

Maybe traffic was heavy. Rush hour, after all.

She typed out a quick “Where are you?” but deleted it just as fast.

“…Am I being sulky?”

Me?

That was something she’d never dared to feel with people like Yi-taek or Yoon-gun. If they were late, one hour, two, she waited in silence. She wasn’t allowed to complain.

People adapt, they say.

It had only been two weeks since she started seeing Jae-heon, and already she was capable of feeling something like this. All it took was a change in who she lived with.

“This… this must be normal, right?”

She whispered the words as she tapped idly at her phone screen.

It wasn’t like she and Jae-heon were in some desperate, passionate relationship. Their phone calls never lasted more than thirty seconds. Their texts were short, clipped.

She scrolled through their message thread again.

The calls may have sounded cold, but he messaged often, small, quiet ways of checking in. He didn’t suffocate her, and that alone felt like oxygen.

She’d been nervous at first. When he handed her a new phone, she worried he’d turn out just like Yoon-gun, blowing up her inbox, calling endlessly, tracking her down every time she went silent.

But those fears turned out to be unnecessary.

He didn’t ask where she was or what she was doing. He didn’t demand her time. When they were together, yes, he could be intense, but he didn’t try to control her every waking moment.

And today’s messages? They had her heart fluttering.

Let’s have a date after work.

I’m making dinner reservations. Choose: Western, Chinese, or Japanese.

Taehan Hotel has great Western food. That okay with you?

Reserved for 7. I’ll send a car to pick you up.

Wear something sexy. ^^

A dinner date at a hotel on a Friday night—his intentions were clear.

‘Sexy, huh.’ Her cheeks flushed again just thinking about it.

Messages like that made her feel…

“…Like we’re really dating.”