TCBW C87

Chapter 87

Behind Suhoe, who was overcome with emotion, believing that he had received the best gift imaginable according to his modest imagination, lights flared to life—bright, dazzling lights that outshone even the sunset sky.

During their climb up the hill, he had been so entranced by the heavens above that he hadn’t noticed the massive mansion that stood tall behind him.

“Huh?”

The sight was something out of a movie—magnificent, almost unreal. Suhoe’s expression, which had moments ago been filled with quiet awe at the sunset, was now frozen in shock. The vast garden of the mansion bloomed with flowers of every hue, surrounded by towering trees that formed a natural wall.

How did I not see this? How could something this big have been hidden?

Dowoon took Suhoe’s hand and began walking with calm, confident strides. Meanwhile, Suhoe could only follow, his face a mixture of disbelief and dazed wonder, unable to find any words.

“There’s dinner inside,” Dowoon said simply. “Everything you like. It’s all ready—you can eat the moment we go in.”

It was already unbelievable that such a mansion existed in the middle of a mountain. But what came next was even more astonishing. When Dowoon pressed a button, the grand iron gates swung open without a sound.

“Oh my…”

At Suhoe’s astonished whisper, Dowoon didn’t bother to explain. He led him through a courtyard where a pool shimmered under the lights and headed toward the dining hall at the back of the mansion.

“Wh–what is this?”

Still unable to adjust to the palace-like sight before him, Suhoe stood frozen at the entrance of the dining hall. Dowoon guided him to a chair, gently pressing him down into it. As soon as he was seated, a chef dressed in spotless white appeared and began serving warm dishes.

When had this person arrived? How had he come all the way here? Suhoe wanted to ask, but his curiosity about the mansion itself was greater.

“What do you mean, ‘what is this’? I told you—I prepared a gift,” Dowoon replied evenly.

“A gift…?”

Suhoe blinked, stunned. The last time he had received a “gift,” it had been a wedding necklace worth several thousand won—a gift so expensive that his hands had trembled just to touch it. Even though it wasn’t technically his, the memory still embarrassed him. So when Dowoon had said he was preparing something again, Suhoe had imagined something material, yes—but not something like this. This was beyond extravagant.

“I… I can’t accept this.”

He had to make it clear right away that this could not possibly be meant for him.

Across the table, Dowoon cut his steak with the same unhurried ease as always, as though he had already predicted exactly what his spouse was about to say.

“You’ll bankrupt the company at this rate,” Suhoe stammered. “I don’t even know how much this costs, but I can’t take it.”

Dowoon glanced briefly at his wife’s face—pale and flustered—and quietly slid a piece of neatly sliced meat onto Suhoe’s plate. Just moments ago, Suhoe had been glowing with happiness, thinking he had received the best gift of his life. Now he looked terrified, and Dowoon found that expression quietly endearing.

“Excuse us,” he said softly.

With a simple gesture, he dismissed the chef. Then he picked up his own fork, speared a piece of the thick meat, and brought it to Suhoe’s lips.

“If it’s bankruptcy you’re worried about—it won’t happen,” he said. “And if I want to make up for all the times you waited, for the trips you couldn’t take, this is the least I can do.”

“Mmmf—th-that’s not what I meant,” Suhoe mumbled, cheeks puffed as he chewed. His words were half muffled, half pleading.

“It’s not expensive,” Dowoon said calmly. “Compared to all the time you spent waiting alone, this house is nothing. You could have ten of them, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

His knife moved with unbroken precision, slicing through the meat in smooth, practiced motions. Suhoe, even while chewing, heard every word—and to him, those words felt like the quietest kind of apology.

“…”

His mouth was too full to speak, but the heaviness in his chest slowly eased. Strangely, he felt calmer—more at peace than when he had stood before the sea earlier that day.

“Still… I really can’t,” he said at last after swallowing. “It’s too much, and I wouldn’t even know how to manage it.”

But Dowoon didn’t seem to hear him. He continued cutting, calm and unwavering. His expression said plainly: This is nothing. It was clear he didn’t understand why Suhoe was so hesitant.

Accepting such a gift wasn’t just uncomfortable—it was dangerous. What if one of the directors found out? What if rumors spread? No, the only way to avoid disaster was to refuse it from the start.

“I’m sorry, truly,” Suhoe said. “But I can’t accept this. Thank you, Dowoon-ssi, but this… this isn’t right.”

“You accept everything I put in your mouth without complaint,” Dowoon said, eyes still on his plate. “So why not this house? If you can’t manage it, I’ll hire a caretaker. If cleaning is too much, I’ll hire staff. If you want to work, I’ll make sure it doesn’t harm you. And if you don’t like this house, I’ll buy you another.”

Every word was terrifyingly sincere.

Suhoe froze. Somehow, every refusal only seemed to make things escalate further.

How was he supposed to say no to that?

Even as his mind raced for a solution, Dowoon kept feeding him—pieces of tender meat, potato salad, soft garnishes—until Suhoe found himself eating like an obedient fledgling, too overwhelmed to even realize it.

Then Dowoon set his napkin aside, stood, and leaned over to lift Suhoe gently from his chair.

“Ah—!”

“Just look around,” he said. “If you still don’t like it after seeing everything, then you can refuse.”

He pressed a glass of grape juice into Suhoe’s hand and held him securely as he carried him through the mansion. His tone left no room for argument, so Suhoe simply let himself be guided.

“There’s a pool on the first floor,” Dowoon said as they walked. “It’s small—just in the courtyard. Warm in winter, cool in summer. There’s a bath beside it for warming up afterward.”

“A… small pool?”

Suhoe wasn’t sure which part of that counted as small, but he nodded anyway. He could always refuse later.

“Next to it is the kitchen, the lounge, and a small theater. Upstairs, there are several guest rooms—though no one will likely visit.”

He spoke as though describing something trivial, skipping doors without even looking inside.

Then why show the house at all?

At first, Suhoe had looked around in wonder, but as Dowoon’s tone stayed light and detached, his excitement faded. The more he saw, the heavier his heart grew.

“And finally—here.”

They stopped at the outermost door on the second floor. The doorknob alone gleamed differently—carefully chosen, polished with intent.

“Try not to cry too much,” Dowoon murmured.

“…What?”

Before Suhoe could ask, Dowoon opened the door.

A rush of wind swept through the room, ruffling his black hair and sending a chill down his neck. The sudden gust caught him off guard, forcing his eyes shut. When he opened them again—his breath caught in his throat.

“Wow…”

His eyes stung immediately. He felt foolish for crying so often these days, but the sight before him was too beautiful to endure without tears.

The room was encased in glass. Windows stretched from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, opening onto an endless expanse of ocean.

Dowoon stepped forward and set him down on the large bed placed before the windows. For a moment, Suhoe thought the bed itself floated upon the sea.

Though it was night, the moonlight shimmered across the waves, silver and soft, making the world feel brighter than daylight.

“How is it?” Dowoon asked, brushing back the hair that clung to Suhoe’s forehead. His tone was steady, casual—but the tenderness in his touch betrayed him.

“The sea… it’s even more beautiful at night,” Suhoe whispered.

There was nothing else like it.

Seeing his wife so moved, Dowoon felt something ease inside him. If Suhoe loved it this much, then yes—he would buy him a hundred more.

“There’s more,” he said quietly.

His hand came to rest on Suhoe’s shoulder, turning him gently.

“…No way.”

Even before he turned fully, Suhoe knew what he was looking at—recognized it by the shape of the branches alone.

The tree.

The one he had planted back on Mount Unbang.

His tree. His memory.

Somehow, Dowoon had brought it here.

He couldn’t imagine how Dowoon knew what it meant to him, or what it symbolized—but something deep inside told him it was connected to the child within him.

He couldn’t hate it. He couldn’t even resist it. But to accept it so easily—to claim it as his—felt far too selfish.

Tears welled again as his shoulders trembled.

He knew: if he said the word, if he so much as whispered I want it, Dowoon would give it to him without hesitation.

And once he did, it would happen again—and again—each gift grander, heavier, harder to refuse.

So he stayed silent, trapped between gratitude and fear, his breath caught somewhere in between.