Chapter 91 – You Can Wound Me, And I'll Still Stay
POV: Jaeheon Kang
The next night, they crossed paths again.
By accident.
Or maybe by design.
She stepped out of the elevator first—flawless, cold, and dressed in black—heels clicking against the marble like they belonged there more than he ever would.
Jaeheon was silent. His eyes lowered the second he saw her.
He didn't expect her to stop.
But she did.
Only for a moment.
And then, with the same voice that once shattered kingdoms in diplomatic meetings, she said:
"Follow."
He obeyed.
Of course he did.
Even if she walked him into hell, Jaeheon would walk quietly behind her—heart burning, hands folded, face unreadable.
They entered her penthouse suite in silence.
She didn't offer tea. Didn't ask how he was.
She simply tossed her coat aside, opened her laptop, and reviewed files on the screen—her attention razor-focused, as if the man she summoned was already forgotten.
Jaeheon stood near the wall, his posture perfect. A trained performer. An uninvited guest.
Or maybe just a willing ghost.
He thought she'd ask about the photoshoot.
About the photographer.
About the woman who had bared her body in front of him with a smirk, whispering, "I bet she doesn't even touch you."
But Anastasia said nothing.
Not about that.
Not about anything.
The silence stretched until it turned to ice.
And still, he didn't speak.
Because he was testing something—
Not her.
Himself.
How long could he love a woman who refused to love him back?
At last, her voice broke the air.
Low. Composed.
"Why didn't you sleep with her?"
The question landed like a blade pressed—not stabbed—into his chest.
"I wouldn't touch anyone," he said softly, "even if you told me to."
That made her pause.
Her hands stilled over the keyboard.
She didn't look up.
"You'd disobey me?"
"No," he said. "I'd obey you and still not touch her."
A silence followed. Then:
"Explain."
He took one step forward.
Then another.
And another—until he was standing just behind her, close enough to see the faint tension in her shoulders, the way her hair curled slightly at the ends.
"I'm not yours to command like that," he said.
Then, gently:
"But I've already decided to live for you."
She said nothing.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't move.
So he added:
"Even if you never turn around… I'll still be here."
Something cracked.
Not between them.
But within her.
She closed her laptop slowly.
Then stood.
She turned to face him.
And for the first time in days, they looked at each other with nothing in between—no roles, no rules, no walls.
Just… pain.
And something darker.
Something deeper.
"You're a fool," she whispered.
"I know."
"You'll never win."
"I'm not trying to."
Her eyes flickered.
"Then what do you want, Jaeheon?"
He didn't hesitate.
"Just you."
No conditions.
No promises.
Not even love in return.
Just her.
Exactly as she was.
Sharp. Unreachable.
A goddess wrapped in silence and frost.
She studied him like he was a puzzle too simple to be worth solving.
And yet…
She didn't tell him to leave.
She didn't order him to kneel.
She didn't walk away.
Instead, she said one word:
"Stay."
He sat quietly in the corner, like a disciple at her altar.
She resumed her work as if nothing had happened.
But for him—
Everything had.
Because sometimes, even not being cast out was enough.
And even if she wounded him a thousand times over—
He would still love her.
Still write for her.
Still die for her.
Again and again.