Chapter 18
His gaze traced Sorim’s swollen cheek. A dark shadow fell over his eyes as he took in the vivid red imprint of a hand.
“Did you just stand there and let her hit you? Like an idiot?”
The low growl in his voice carried anger—directed squarely at Minseo.
“…It happened too fast. I couldn’t dodge it.”
“Liar. You probably just stood there. Like a sinner.”
Tae-ha pressed the ice pack—wrapped in a handkerchief—against Sorim’s cheek.
“Ow!”
Sorim jerked back in surprise, and Tae-ha firmly grasped the back of her neck.
“Stay still. We need to cool it before it swells.”
The icy chill soothed the burning heat.
With one hand holding the ice pack in place, Tae-ha used the other to tuck her disheveled hair behind her ear.
It was hard to believe this was the same man who’d crushed Minseo and threatened her so mercilessly just moments ago—his touch now was almost gentle.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
Tae-ha asked when Sorim kept looking at him.
“It’s just… unfamiliar. Seeing you like this, Mr. Song Tae-ha.”
“Like what?”
“Kind. Earlier, you looked like you were ready to bury someone alive.”
Without answering, Tae-ha set the ice pack down and squeezed ointment onto his finger, applying it carefully to the corner of her mouth. The medicine seeped into her split lip.
When his fingertip brushed her lips, a strange current seemed to pass through her.
“I told you. Don’t damage what belongs to me.”
“…Stop calling me your ‘property.’ It’s uncomfortable to hear.”
“Then what should I call you? My woman?”
A mischievous glint lit his eyes.
Sorim’s face heated instantly, and she turned away.
“…Just forget it. Let’s go.”
Tae-ha let out a low chuckle and started the car again.
As they drove toward the penthouse, Sorim stared out the window, lost in thought.
What Song Tae-ha had shown today was undeniably shocking—ruthless and cruel.
And yet, knowing that cruelty had been meant to protect her brought an odd sense of relief.
This man might be even more dangerous than I thought.
And still—
Inside that dangerous enclosure, she felt safer than anywhere else in the world.
It was ironic.
* * *
When they arrived home, Tae-ha tossed off his jacket and headed straight for the study.
“I’ve got a few things left to deal with. Go shower and rest first.”
“…Aren’t you hungry?”
At Sorim’s question, Tae-ha stopped.
“Why? Are you?”
“No. I just thought… I could make you a late-night meal.”
“You? Cooking?”
“Yes. You bought me breakfast, and you helped me today, so…”
She hesitated, then continued awkwardly.
“It won’t be anything fancy—just something simple, if you want.”
He studied her for a moment, then curved his lips upward.
“Alright. I’ll look forward to it.”
Sorim quickly changed clothes and headed to the kitchen.
When she opened the refrigerator, it was stocked with premium ingredients.
Caviar. Truffles. The finest cuts of Korean beef.
But instead of something extravagant, Sorim decided to make food that would soothe the stomach.
On a day as exhausting and stressful as this, what they needed was warmth.
She set soaked rice in a pot and started a broth. She cleaned the abalone, crushed the innards, and slowly sautéed them in sesame oil.
The rhythmic sound of her knife echoed crisply across the cutting board.
As she focused on cooking, the fear and exhaustion that had plagued her all day seemed to wash away.
A little later, Tae-ha appeared in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, several buttons of his shirt undone.
“Smells good.”
“I made abalone porridge and rolled omelet. They’re the quickest.”
Sorim laid the table neatly.
A bowl of steaming green-tinted abalone porridge, rich and fragrant, and a thick, golden rolled omelet.
Nothing flashy—just sincere, comforting food.
Tae-ha raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Porridge, huh.”
“I figured something easy to digest would be better since you’re tired. I’m not sure if it’ll suit your taste.”
As she shrugged, Tae-ha sat down and picked up his spoon.
He took a bite.
“……”
When silence followed, Sorim unconsciously clasped her hands together.
“…Is it bland? Or—did you bite into something weird? Like sand?”
At her anxious question, Tae-ha shook his head.
The memory of her focused expression while cooking lingered irritatingly in his mind—but he answered honestly.
“No. It’s good.”
Only then did she finally relax.
“I’m glad.”
Tae-ha took another spoonful.
It was more than just good.
The deep flavor of the abalone innards, the nutty aroma of sesame oil, the soft, slowly spreading texture of the rice—it was perfectly balanced.
Most of all, there was a warmth that seeped deep into his stomach.
He’d eaten at countless Michelin-starred restaurants and famous establishments, but this was new.
Not a taste dressed up with expensive ingredients or flashy techniques—
But one filled with the warmth of the person who made it.
It reminded him of a hunger he’d carried since childhood—eating alone in a vast mansion, never quite full.
“…Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“I didn’t. I just picked things up watching others.”
“…I see.”
Looking thoughtful, Tae-ha continued eating in silence.
The rolled omelet was excellent as well—layers of egg infused with pollock roe, perfectly seasoned, moist and tender.
“I’m done.”
He set down his spoon, his bowl clean, his expression noticeably softer.
“I think I understand now why you’re so obsessed with cooking. You have talent.”
At his praise, Sorim smiled shyly.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“Then I’ll be asking you to cook more often. You’ll have to take responsibility for ruining my palate.”
His half-joking remark made Sorim’s heart drop heavily.
The way he said it was strangely thrilling.
Is it just my imagination… or did that sound like a proposal?
Tae-ha stood and poured himself a glass of water.
Then, abruptly—like a notice rather than a suggestion—he spoke.
“I’m going on a business trip. My flight’s at five in the morning.”
“…What? A trip? Right now?”
Sorim stared at him in surprise.
“Yeah. I’ll be gone for a week. Something urgent came up.”
“Where to?”
“France.”
At the word France, Sorim’s eyes widened.
It was her father Vincent Aubert’s homeland—and a country she’d always dreamed of visiting.
“That sounds nice… France.”
“I’m going to work. Not for fun.”
He spoke indifferently as he picked up his jacket from the sofa.
“Hold down the fort while I’m gone. Don’t get into trouble.”
“I won’t even have time for that. I have to work at the restaurant.”
“That damn restaurant.”
Tae-ha clicked his tongue—but there was no irritation in his tone.
“When I come back, I’ll bring you a gift. Anything you want?”
“Nothing. Just… travel safely.”
At her simple reply, Tae-ha let out a short laugh.
Most women would’ve asked for a luxury bag or jewelry.
Yoon Sorim really was different.
Which only made her more intriguing.
“I’ll get ready and leave, so go to bed first. No need to see me off.”
He gave her head a light pat and headed upstairs.
Sorim watched his retreating figure for a long time.
The thought that she wouldn’t see him for several days felt oddly… empty.
…Am I getting used to him?
That was a dangerous sign.
As if wiping her tangled thoughts away, she turned off the kitchen lights.
The living room sank back into quiet darkness.
But that darkness no longer felt cold.
Because the warmth Tae-ha had left behind still lingered beside her.
And unaware of what he might bring back from distant France—
Sorim drifted into a deep sleep.
