Chapter 15
When I collapsed, he acted as my guardian.
âJust like Yoo Geon was my guardian, Iâm Yoo Geonâs guardianâŠ! He has a wife, so why should he rely on the housekeeper whoâs already gone home from work? His wife should be the one taking care of himâŠ!â
Holding her aching heart, Jian hurried inside.
âUm, Iâm really sorry. Something urgent came up at home, so I think I need to head back. Iâm so sorry.â
After asking the staff for their understanding, Jian left the bar and called for a designated driver.
Not long after, sitting in the car driven by the substitute driver, Jian called Yoo Geon.
âYoo Geon? Are you very sick? Youâre not dying, right? Just wait a littleâIâm on my way!â
I, Eun Jian, am Yoo Geonâs wife!
Jian desperately wished she could reach him even a second sooner.
Urging the driver as if she were whipping a horse, Jianâs car sped down the streets and safely pulled into the garage of the coupleâs home.
Like a short-distance sprinter, she dashed across the garden and into the house.
âYoo Geon!â
She thundered up the stairs and flung open the bedroom door.
Gasping for breath, Jian saw Yoo Geon lying there with his arm over his forehead, groaning in pain.
âOh, Ms. Eun Jian⊠You really came⊠It was a company dinner for once⊠You didnât have to worry about me⊠CoughâŠâ
âHow can I not, when the voice of the person I live with sounds like itâs dying? Are you very sick? You were fine this morningâwhy all of a sudden? What hurts?â
Jian rushed to the bedside, flustered.
âI donât know⊠Maybe I caught something somewhere⊠I keep coughing⊠My head feels dizzy⊠Since youâre here, could you put a wet towel on my foreheadâŠ?â
It was all a fake illness to summon Jian.
He didnât need porridge or medicineâjust that small request would do. His plan was to keep Jian by his side by looking weak and pitiful with a damp cloth on his forehead.
âWait! We canât just handle it roughly like thatâwe need to know exactly what condition youâre in! Iâll bring a thermometer!â
But Jian was more thorough than he expected.
âHuh? N-no, thatâs not necessaryâŠ!â
Too late! Jian shot out of the bedroom like a bullet.
Left alone on the bed, Yoo Geonâs lips parted.
âWhy are you so obsessed with numbersâŠ?â
It was good that his acting had achieved the goal of bringing her homeâbut this was an unexpected turning point.
Worried his lie might be exposed, Yoo Geon began rubbing his forehead with his hand, trying to create friction heat.
The thermometer at home was a non-contact type that measured surface temperature. If he raised the heat like this, it would react.
Just as his forehead grew warm, hurried footsteps approached from the wide-open bedroom door. Jian was coming back.
Yoo Geon quickly dropped his hand and resumed groaning.
âOh no! You must have a high fever! Your foreheadâs already red!â
Yeah, because I rubbed it as hard as I couldâŠ
âIâll check right away. Just a momentâŠâ
Jian held the thermometer in front of his forehead.
Beep.
His temperature was measured.
Jianâs eyes widened as if they might pop out when she saw the number.
She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, even rubbing them with her hand. But it was the same.
In the past, thermometers were made with mercury. The scale usually only went up to 42°C.
She had once heard that if a personâs body temperature rose above 42°C, the body would instead grow cold. In other words, if the fever rose that high, the person would soon die anyway.
But Yoo Geonâs measured temperature wasâ
â42.5 degreesâŠ?â
âW-what? How many degrees?â
Yoo Geon took the thermometer from Jianâs pale hand and checked the number.
â42.5⊠Huh? Why is thisâŠâ
Did I rub my forehead too much?
While he was panicking, Jian measured his temperature again.
The result was the same.
42.5°C.
The perfect temperature to become a corpse.
âYoo Geon! Wh-what do we doâŠ!â
Jian felt tears welling up.
At this rate, Yoo Geon would grow cold! Heâd become a lifeless body!
They had only just managed to stay by each otherâs side.
This couldnât happen.
â119! We need to call an ambulanceâ!â
Determined to save him no matter what, Jianâs trembling fingers began dialing on her phone.
âNo!â
Yoo Geon was horrified.
As the CEO of a company, he couldnât waste social resources over a fake illnessâor be publicly humiliated when it was exposed.
âNo, Eun JianâŠ! I-I think the thermometer is broken. So put the phone downâŠâ
âYou canât take this lightly! Yoo Geon, this is a huge emergency!â
âNo, Iâm telling you, itâs notââ
Despite his attempts to stop her, Jian was just about to press the final â9â with her trembling fingertip.
âDonât! Stop!â
Yoo Geon lunged at her to snatch the phone.
Jian quickly stretched the arm holding the phone behind her head to avoid him.
âWhat are you doing? Cha Yoo Geon, do you want to die?â
âIâm not going to die!â
If you call 119, Iâll die of embarrassment!
âIâm not dying, so just give me the phone. Please?â
âIâm telling you, we have to call 119! A body temperature of 42.5 degrees is a serious emergency!â
Yoo Geon tried desperately to grab the phone, while Jian fought just as hard to keep it.
As their bodies drew closer, arms tangling in a struggle, their center of gravity shifted toward Jianâ
âIâll explain everything, so just give me thatâwhoa!â
âWhat are you trying to explainâah!â
The two toppled over together, Yoo Geon ending up on top of Jian.
As her back touched the soft beddingâ
Their lips met.
Gasp.
A startled breath escaped Yoo Geonâs lips as they parted from Jianâs.
It felt as though time had stopped.
Jianâs shocked face filled his vision, and in her wide eyes, he saw his own astonished expression reflected.
But even more intense than that sight was the soft, tender sensation he had just felt on his lips.
It was something he had never experienced before.
âMy lips⊠touched Eun JianâsâŠâ
Lips. Her lipsâŠ
The red, pretty lips that had once parted slightly when he poked her cheek as she slept.
The lips he had wanted to kiss, thinking they would taste sweet if he bit them.
And he had actuallyâŠ
Not the fake heat from rubbing his forehead, but a real heat rising from deep within his core spread through his entire body in an instant.
A heat that easily exceeded 42.5°C stirred his desire.
He wanted to taste those lips once more.
âŠThis time deeper, properly.
His reason scattered like smoke and vanished.
Guided only by instinct, he leaned down toward Jianâs lips again, as she lay beneath him, gazing up with trembling eyesâ
Bzz. Bzz.
The phone that had fallen near Jianâs shoulder suddenly vibrated.
âAhââ
Startled, Yoo Geon sprang away from her. The vibration brought back the sense that had momentarily fled.
Still dazed, Jian pushed herself up and checked her phone. It was a call from Pilbeom.
âO-oh, yes. Dad. Wh-whatâs going on all of a suddenâŠ? Huh? During the holiday? Is it almost Lunar New Year? No, not that⊠Oh right, itâs Chuseok⊠Whatâs wrong with meâŠâ
Muttering incoherently as she answered, Jian left the bedroom.
Meanwhile, Yoo Geon, still slightly dazed as if waking from a dream, touched his trembling lips.
The blissful, dizzying sensation returned.
Though only their lips had touched, his stomach fluttered, the hairs on his body stood on end, and tingles ran all the way to his toes.
Whooshâhis face burned.
A celebration.
It was the historic day when Cha Yoo Geon (31 years old, physically healthy, zero dating experience) had his very first kiss.






