The darkness was never truly black. For Kim Heon, darkness was always a dense gray, like the suffocating remnants of burning charcoal. In his deep sleep caused by syncope a loss of consciousness due to hypoglycemia and acute exhaustion he was dragged back into the time hole he had kept tightly locked away all this time.
(It's cold... why is it so cold here? I... where am I?)
His vision was blurry, but slowly the silhouette of a woman appeared. Lee Soo-Jin. His mother. One-year-old little Heon giggled as his mother's fingers tickled his stomach. There was the scent of baby powder and warm seaweed soup. There was also a man, Kim Do-Jin, who embraced them both with sturdy arms.
(Father... Mother... We were once this happy, huh? It feels like watching a movie clip from someone else's life. Is that laughing toddler really me?)
But the film burned. The bright colors faded into sepia, then turned pitch black when Heon reached the age of two. His father vanished like smoke blown by a strong wind, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of their home. And since then, the angel named Lee Soo-Jin died, replaced by a woman whose soul had rotted from hatred.
"Why do you keep staring at me?!" shouted Soo-Jin in the dream. Her shrill voice shattered the silence of their cramped rented house.
Four-year-old Heon could only cower in the corner of the room, hugging his trembling knees.
"I'm sorry... Mother... Heon is hungry..." the boy whispered softly.
"Hungry? You have a face like that and you dare complain about being hungry to me?!" Soo-Jin approached, her eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and boiling anger. She grabbed Heon's hair, forcing the boy to look up at the cracked mirror on the wall. "Look! Look at your face! Every time I look into your eyes, I see that bastard! You are a curse, Heon! You don't deserve to be near me! You are a reminder that I was once loved and then thrown away like trash!"
(Don't... Mother, please don't say that anymore. I will cover my face. I will wear a mask. I will become a shadow, as long as Mother isn't angry... Please...)
The insults flowed like a flood. "That face of yours... it's poison! You stole everything I had!"
Until one day, when Heon was five years old, the storm suddenly subsided into a terrifying silence. His mother collapsed on the kitchen floor. Her body was stiff, her mouth drooped to one side. The stroke and mental illness that had been gnawing at her soul finally brought down her body.
On the hospital bed that smelled of carbolic acid, Soo-Jin grasped Heon's tiny hand with her remaining strength. Her weary eyes looked at Heon, but her gaze seemed to pierce right through the boy, searching for another figure behind his face.
"Forgive me... Do-Jin... why did you leave us?" his mother muttered in delirium.
"Mother, it's Heon... not Father..."
"Don't go... please..." Soo-Jin took her last breath right after those words came out. She died in delusion, thinking the child she had verbally abused for years was her betraying husband.
The funeral was quiet. Heon stood in front of the fresh mound of dirt with a blank stare. The neighbors whispered in pity, trying to give him bread or stroke his head.
"Such a pity for this handsome boy... his life will be difficult," they whispered.
(Handsome? What's the use of being handsome if Mother died hating me? What's the use of this face if it only brings pain? I don't need this face. I hate this face.)
Heon's smile died that day. Buried alongside his mother.
That night, in the house that was now silent, Heon found a letter tucked under his mother's pillow. With trembling little fingers, he tried to spell out his mother's messy handwriting.
> December 12. He came home again. The smell of alcohol reached the porch. He slapped me, Heon. My cheek is bruised. He accused me of having an affair with Kang Tae, even though I was only begging the man to give us an extension on our rent debt. Your father... he has gone mad from jealousy and poverty.
> Heon's tears dripped onto the paper.
> He kept screaming. He almost hit me again today. I told him, 'Go ahead and hit me! Vent your anger! Didn't you promise to make us happy? Why are you being so cruel?!' I cried as hard as I could, but he just grabbed my hair and slammed me to the floor.
> Suddenly, the memory spun to the most horrifying event. Heon remembered one night, waking up feeling his body being lifted. His father carried him to the kitchen, the man's hand holding a knife with wild eyes. His father wanted to kill him, wanted to end the "burden" of their lives.
But his mother arrived like a lioness. With eyes full of fury and a kitchen knife in her hand, Lee Soo-Jin threatened her own husband.
"Get out, you bastard! Don't you dare touch my son! Leave before I make sure you rot in hell!"
His father left that very night. And never returned. His mother then hugged Heon tightly, crying until dawn arrived.
The last line of the letter made Heon's heart seemingly stop beating.
> Heon-ah... Mother loves you very much. Even if I had to die that day to save you, I would be willing. My anger toward your father never faded because he had the heart to try and kill you. Forgive Mother because every time I look at your face, I remember him. But know this... Mother loves Heon very much.
> (Mother... so all this time... Mother was just hurting?)
"Eung..."
Heon's eyes opened little by little. The light from the luxurious crystal chandelier pierced his retinas, making him blink a few times. His head felt heavy, as if it had just been smashed by a sledgehammer. He sat up woozily on the velvet sofa that felt incredibly soft—much softer than his thin folding mattress.
"Where... am I?" he muttered hoarsely.
His consciousness slowly returned. He patted his jacket pockets, then frantically felt the floor around his feet.
"The package... where is the package? That document..."
"I already received it, pervert."
That cold and sharp voice made Heon flinch. He turned and saw a woman sitting behind a massive mahogany desk, her long legs crossed as she looked at him with a condescending glare. Han Yuna.
Heon immediately remembered the last event before he fainted. He had bumped into this woman. He had hugged her.
"I'm sorry!" Heon immediately got off the sofa and bowed deeply until his head almost touched his knees. "I apologize! I'm truly sorry! I... I didn't mean to. My blood sugar was low, I was extremely dizzy, and"
"Stop," Yuna cut in sharply. She got up from her chair, walking toward Heon with her footsteps clicking rhythmically on the marble floor. "Apologizing will not erase the fact that you physically assaulted the Executive Director of Han-GROUP."
Heon froze. His face behind the hat and mask (which Yuna had neatly put back on him at some point) paled. "Assault? But I—"
"There's CCTV footage, Idiot," Yuna crossed her arms over her chest. She stood very close to Heon, her expensive perfume smelling of roses and sandalwood filling Heon's sense of smell. "You bumped into me, hugged my waist, and buried your face in my neck. What do you think the police will say if I hand over that recording?"
Heon fell silent. His world felt like it was crumbling. The police? If he went to jail, who would pay his room rent? What about his already bleak future? He didn't have money for a lawyer.
"Please... don't call the police," Heon pleaded, his beautiful eyes staring at the floor in utter despair. "I will do anything. I beg you... I'm just a poor courier. I will do whatever you want as compensation."
Yuna was stunned for a moment. Hearing that trembling baritone voice made her stomach feel strange; a tingling sensation spread through her. She looked at Heon's tall yet currently very fragile posture.
"Anything?" Yuna raised one eyebrow, pretending to think. "Absolutely anything?"
"Yes... anything. I can work extra hours, clean the building, whatever..."
"Tch, what's with that face?" Yuna sneered, even though she was trying hard to suppress her own racing heartbeat. "I'm the victim here, you're the perpetrator. Don't put on a pitiful face as if I'm the villain!"
(Why does he have to be this tall? And why does his voice sound so resigned? It makes me want to... ah, no, Yuna! Focus!)
"Fine," Yuna continued while looking away, her cheeks slightly flushed. "I won't report you. Just consider me being kind because my mood today is... somewhat decent."
"Really? Thank you, Miss! Thank you so much!" Heon was about to bow again.
"But!" Yuna raised her index finger. "There's a condition. You have to do three things for me as compensation. And if you refuse even one of them, that CCTV footage will land straight on the police chief's desk."
Heon swallowed hard. "Three things... alright. What are they?"
Yuna stayed silent for a moment. She glanced at her Cartier watch. "First... accompany me for lunch right now. I'm hungry, and I don't like eating alone."
Heon blinked. "Just... lunch?"
"Don't complain! Do you think eating with me is cheap? Many businessmen line up just to have tea with me, you know!" Yuna crossed her arms, her tsundere nature coming out naturally. "And look at yourself, you look like someone who hasn't eaten in three years. If you faint in front of me again, it will be a hassle!"
"But my clothes..." Heon pointed to his shabby jacket.
"Wait here," Yuna ordered briefly. She walked into her private dressing room hidden behind a bookshelf.
Heon stood frozen in the middle of the spacious room.
(Why does she want to eat with me? Does she want to poison me? Or maybe she wants to harvest my organs to pay for her damages? No, she's too rich for that. But... three things? What are the other two?)
A few minutes later, Yuna came out carrying a large paper bag from a famous boutique brand. She threw it at Heon.
"Wear this. Inside there's a suit, pants, a new and more decent mask, sunglasses, and a branded hat," Yuna said quickly. "Wear all of it. Don't let a single inch of the skin on your face show when we leave this building. Understand?"
(I don't want the women downstairs to see this asset I just discovered. He can only be seen by me. Yes, this is purely for the company's security so there are no handsome courier scandals!)
Heon was confused, but he complied. He went into the bathroom inside the office and changed clothes. When he came out, the atmosphere in the room seemed to shift.
The black slim-fit suit clung perfectly to Heon's athletic body. His broad shoulders made the suit look much more expensive than its actual price. The fabric trousers accentuated his long, slender legs. Even though his face was covered by large sunglasses, a premium black mask, and a ball-cap pulled low, the mysterious and dashing aura radiating from him actually multiplied.
Yuna, who was organizing her bag, looked up. She immediately froze.
(Oh my gosh...)
Yuna's heart raced twice as fast. She didn't expect that with decent clothes, this courier guy would look like a top-tier actor in disguise running from the paparazzi. His towering height truly dominated the room.
"Miss? Isn't this... a bit too much?" Heon asked while adjusting the sunglasses that felt awkward.
"Eh? Ah... ahem!" Yuna quickly turned her face away, which was now turning bright red all the way to her ears. "It's just ordinary! In fact, I think it's still not good enough! But at least you don't look like a homeless person anymore!"
Yuna walked quickly toward the door, her steps slightly unsteady from being flustered.
"Hurry up and wear your mask properly and don't talk too much! Let's go, I'm already hungry, you perverted idiot!" Yuna shouted from the doorway without daring to look back.
Heon scratched the back of his neck, which wasn't itchy. He followed Yuna's steps with mixed feelings.
(Perverted idiot? Earlier she said I was a pervert, now a perverted idiot. But... this suit is really comfortable. And why did she give me sunglasses indoors?)
Heon didn't know that behind those sunglasses, Yuna's eyes kept stealing glances at him with a fierce sense of possessiveness.