Chapter 15
When I collapsed, he acted as my guardian.
‘Just like Yoo Geon was my guardian, I’m Yoo Geon’s guardian…! He has a wife, so why should he rely on the housekeeper who’s already gone home from work? His wife should be the one taking care of him…!’
Holding her aching heart, Jian hurried inside.
“Um, I’m really sorry. Something urgent came up at home, so I think I need to head back. I’m so sorry.”
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.
“Yoo Geon? Are you very sick? You’re not dying, right? Just wait a little—I’m on my way!”
I, Eun Jian, am Yoo Geon’s wife!
Jian desperately wished she could reach him even a second sooner.
Urging the driver as if she were whipping a horse, Jian’s car sped down the streets and safely pulled into the garage of the couple’s home.
Like a short-distance sprinter, she dashed across the garden and into the house.
“Yoo Geon!”
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.
“Oh, Ms. Eun Jian… You really came… It was a company dinner for once… You didn’t have to worry about me… Cough…”
“How can I not, when the voice of the person I live with sounds like it’s dying? Are you very sick? You were fine this morning—why all of a sudden? What hurts?”
Jian rushed to the bedside, flustered.
“I don’t know… Maybe I caught something somewhere… I keep coughing… My head feels dizzy… Since you’re here, could you put a wet towel on my forehead…?”
It was all a fake illness to summon Jian.
He didn’t need porridge or medicine—just 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.
“Wait! We can’t just handle it roughly like that—we need to know exactly what condition you’re in! I’ll bring a thermometer!”
But Jian was more thorough than he expected.
“Huh? N-no, that’s not necessary…!”
Too late! Jian shot out of the bedroom like a bullet.
Left alone on the bed, Yoo Geon’s lips parted.
“Why are you so obsessed with numbers…?”
It was good that his acting had achieved the goal of bringing her home—but 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.
“Oh no! You must have a high fever! Your forehead’s already red!”
Yeah, because I rubbed it as hard as I could…
“I’ll check right away. Just a moment…”
Jian held the thermometer in front of his forehead.
Beep.
His temperature was measured.
Jian’s 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 person’s 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 Geon’s measured temperature was—
“42.5 degrees…?”
“W-what? How many degrees?”
Yoo Geon took the thermometer from Jian’s pale hand and checked the number.
“42.5… Huh? Why is this…”
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.
“Yoo Geon! Wh-what do we do…!”
Jian felt tears welling up.
At this rate, Yoo Geon would grow cold! He’d become a lifeless body!
They had only just managed to stay by each other’s side.
This couldn’t happen.
“119! We need to call an ambulance—!”
Determined to save him no matter what, Jian’s trembling fingers began dialing on her phone.
‘No!’
Yoo Geon was horrified.
As the CEO of a company, he couldn’t waste social resources over a fake illness—or be publicly humiliated when it was exposed.
“No, Eun Jian…! I-I think the thermometer is broken. So put the phone down…”
“You can’t take this lightly! Yoo Geon, this is a huge emergency!”
“No, I’m telling you, it’s not—”
Despite his attempts to stop her, Jian was just about to press the final ‘9’ with her trembling fingertip.
“Don’t! Stop!”
Yoo Geon lunged at her to snatch the phone.
Jian quickly stretched the arm holding the phone behind her head to avoid him.
“What are you doing? Cha Yoo Geon, do you want to die?”
“I’m not going to die!”
If you call 119, I’ll die of embarrassment!
“I’m not dying, so just give me the phone. Please?”
“I’m telling you, we have to call 119! A body temperature of 42.5 degrees is a serious emergency!”
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 Jian—
“I’ll explain everything, so just give me that—whoa!”
“What are you trying to explain—ah!”
The two toppled over together, Yoo Geon ending up on top of Jian.
As her back touched the soft bedding—
Their lips met.
Gasp.
A startled breath escaped Yoo Geon’s lips as they parted from Jian’s.
It felt as though time had stopped.
Jian’s 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.
‘My lips… touched Eun Jian’s…’
Lips. Her lips…
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 actually…
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.
…This time deeper, properly.
His reason scattered like smoke and vanished.
Guided only by instinct, he leaned down toward Jian’s lips again, as she lay beneath him, gazing up with trembling eyes—
Bzz. Bzz.
The phone that had fallen near Jian’s shoulder suddenly vibrated.
“Ah—”
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.
“O-oh, yes. Dad. Wh-what’s going on all of a sudden…? Huh? During the holiday? Is it almost Lunar New Year? No, not that… Oh right, it’s Chuseok… What’s wrong with me…”
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.
Whoosh—his 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.
