Chapter 50

Chapter 50

I blinked, thinking I should finally get up and put my clothes on properly—but while I was spacing out for just a moment, Shin Chi-woo had already finished getting himself together. At some point, he’d put his suit jacket back on and even straightened his tie. Then he picked up the coat that had been tossed on the floor and casually hung it over a chair.

Even knowing I was staring straight at him, he turned and headed into the bathroom. Maybe it was just the cold detachment of a man who’d finished his business—but honestly, his actions were so typically Shin Chi-woo that I wasn’t even surprised.

11. Farewell

“Stay still.”

The sound of running water came from the bathroom, and then he approached me with a towel. He placed the warm, damp cloth between my legs, where my limp lower body lay, completely drained.

He carefully wiped away the milky fl*id that had leaked out, then gently applied pressure as if trying to stop the bleeding from marks that were inevitable for a first time.

Thankfully, the deep red traces weren’t too severe, and the bleeding stopped sooner than expected. I watched silently as Shin Chi-woo replaced the towel two or three times, wiping not only down below but also carefully cleaning my chest and neck where his saliva had touched, with such thorough care and attention.

He’d been a cruel bastard during s*x, tormenting me with every kind of word—but maybe he really did feel sorry now. Thinking that a kind pervert and a gentle madman could exist in the same person eased my resentment a little.

“Lift your hips.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah, here… take my hand and get up.”

He picked up the panties and cotton pants lying on the floor and dressed me, one piece at a time. Then, after helping me sit up, he straightened my bra and smoothed my knit top until it looked neat again.

The storm-like s*x was over, and the two of us, who’d been half-n*ked, were now put together again as if nothing had happened. If we were an ordinary couple, we might’ve showered together, talked about how hungry we were, maybe eaten a meal… or simply held each other and fallen asleep.

But we knew from the start that this was the end, and that passion had to be wrapped up here. Feeling awkward in the silence, I sat on the bed, absentmindedly fiddling with the blanket.

“The ring.”

“Ah… right.”

“It doesn’t mean anything special, so just keep it. If you need to, you can sell it.”

“……”

“I know it’s not much help, since you’re leaving…”

I hadn’t expected him to bring up the ring himself, so I was a little surprised. Honestly, if he hadn’t mentioned it, I probably would’ve pretended not to know and kept it.

It wasn’t out of greed or anything materialistic. I just wanted to keep at least one thing as a memory. Like he said, it wasn’t the kind of ring worth much—it wouldn’t fetch a big price even if I sold it. Even if I didn’t wear it every day, I could keep it somewhere safe and look at it from time to time, remembering him. I just wanted that kind of connection.

“You better not take it back later.”

“If I regret it so much I go crazy, I’ll come find you and ask for it back.”

“The plane ticket would cost more than the ring.”

“True.”

I rolled the ring on my left ring finger between my fingers and stared at him. It was half a joke, half serious, but… ever since the island, there was something I’d been curious about.

“Did you… maybe hide a GPS tracker in this ring?”

“Look at the size and thickness of it. You think that would fit?”

“…Good point.”

Maybe I asked too seriously. The moment I said it, he tried to hold back a laugh and gave me a look like are you kidding me? I felt my face burn—I must’ve been watching too many spy movies.

“I figured maybe you gave it to me so you could keep tracking me.”

“I don’t need anything like that. I already have ways to know exactly where you go.”

“…….”

“You’re not seriously afraid I’m going to lose you, are you?”

Ashamed of my rambling, I clamped my mouth shut. Unless I disappeared into a conflict zone or the remotest parts of Africa, even if I fled abroad, it seemed like Shin Chi-woo wouldn’t ever really lose track of me. Maybe I was just overinterpreting his words.

I knew I didn’t need to assign too much meaning to them—but still, it didn’t feel bad. Maybe my expression gave that away, because he touched between his brows and let out a faint smile. Then, glancing at his left wrist, it seemed time was up.

“I should go.”

He had put on the coat he’d hung over the chair. I was trying to figure out how to say goodbye with as little emotion as possible. But then I noticed his eyes shift toward the refrigerator against the wall opposite the bed.

It was a motel, so the fridge wasn’t any taller than my waist. Something had been placed on top—probably a notepad, a telephone, and a pen.

He walked over, picked up the pen, and clicked it once. After scribbling briefly on the notepad to check if the pen worked, he came over and sat next to me on the bed.

He gently took my left hand, the one wearing the ring, and turned my palm upward. Then, he began writing something on it with the pen—numbers.

“You can memorize it right away, right?”

“I can, but… what is it?”

“My phone number.”

“……”

“It’s a direct line—never been exposed anywhere else.”

“…Okay.”

“You know Korea’s country code, right?”

“Yeah. Eight-two.”

“Once you’ve memorized it, erase it.”

I nodded and rubbed my left palm against my pants several times, then checked. About half the numbers had already smudged off, but if I washed my hands with soap later, I’d be able to erase the rest cleanly.

3XX, space, 5972.

Seven digits—maybe it was a landline, not a mobile number. If he wasn’t around when I called, he wouldn’t pick up. It’s not like someone could sit by the phone 24/7—maybe it would go to voicemail?

If it really was a landline, it reminded me of home phones, something we hadn’t had in our house since I was a kid. Maybe that’s what made it secure. In a digital age dominated by smartphones, analog might ironically be the safest way to avoid wiretapping or surveillance.

“I won’t forget. Ever.”

“I hope you mean that.”

“I was talking about the phone number.”

“I know. That’s why—don’t ever forget it.”

Technically, memorize would’ve been the right word for numbers, but I was glad I got to say I won’t forget—a more emotional promise. Shin Chi-woo seemed to understand and responded in a suitably flat but knowing tone.

“Oh, right. Seo Wan-yi.”

“Yes?”

“Take this too.”

Not knowing what he meant, I looked at him as he reached into the blanket. He pulled out the black scarf I’d hidden earlier when the short-haired woman was around. He must’ve noticed it at some point. Having it found like that, by the person it was connected to, made me feel like my feelings had been exposed.

“It’s cold out.”

“……”

“Maybe Taiwan’ll be warmer than here.”

“I guess I’ll find out when I get there.”

Just like when we met again on the island, he wrapped the scarf around my neck with a slightly playful touch. He wrapped it so high it almost looked like a black neck brace, right under my eyes. I had to pull it down below my nose just to breathe.

“Well then.”

Time was tight—we couldn’t keep joking around. Shin Chi-woo must’ve thought he’d done enough, because he gave a faint smile and stood up from the bed.

He looked at me with a face full of lingering regret, then closed his eyes briefly and gestured with his chin toward the door. That was the signal—he was leaving now. He took two steps toward it, then suddenly turned halfway around, snapped his fingers, and said:

“Oh—Seoul area code is 02. Don’t forget.”

“Even I know that.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“……”

“Let’s meet again sometime.”

That was the period at the end of it all. Whether there’d be a next time or not, my connection with Shin Chi-woo ended here—for now.

I heard the door unlock, open, then close. Sounded like the short-haired woman was out in the hallway. She and Shin Chi-woo were talking about something right after he stepped out, but I couldn’t make out the words.

That’s it. It’s really over.

I took off the scarf I’d been wearing. I needed to get ready to leave now, and I couldn’t do that with it still on.

Still, people are strange creatures. I’d thought Shin Chi-woo was the type to never ask for something twice if he was turned down once. But the way he repeated himself, trying to hold onto me—that was unexpected.

Sure, he probably had some affection for me. But it wasn’t necessarily desperation. There was a chance he was planning a move, one with the future in mind. If I ended up staying in Seoul instead of leaving with my dad, I might unintentionally become a rule-breaker. After Chairman Pyeon’s death, depending on who won the company’s internal power struggle, Dad might return from exile like a hero—and if that happened, maybe Shin Chi-woo wanted to keep me close in advance.

Yeah… maybe that’s what this was about. I tried to steady my fluttering heart.