NLFSD Chapter 115

Chapter 115 – Extra Episode 15

And so, Seo Mango became Seo U‑yeon. Blessed by everyone, the child thrived and soon left infancy without any serious illness. This owed much to Chairman Seo’s boundless effort. Semi‑retired, he commuted daily from Pyeongchang‑dong to Banpo‑dong to care for the baby. Having once raised a son as a single father, he was seasoned.

When the child cried, he quieted him; when it was time for a feeding, he caught the moment uncannily and gave formula.

“Father, you’re amazing. It’s like you can read U‑yeon’s heart.”

“Truth is, U‑yeon does exactly what Taecheon did at that age, so it’s easy to tell.”

“Really?”

“Mm. See how his eyes look like Taecheon’s, giving him that stern look? Lips pressed, too. But this face right now means he’s in a good mood.”

“…Pardon?”

“And now he’s getting sleepy. His eyes just got a bit smaller.”

“…Goodness.”

“It’s like watching Taecheon’s childhood all over again.”

Listening to the Chairman, Jiwoon realized something: the child not only looked like Seo Taecheon, but behaved like him. For Jiwoon, that meant he could sneak a look at the man he loved, thirty years earlier.

A time before you and I even knew of each other.

When we had no idea we would meet and fall in love, living out separate worlds far apart. So this is how you must have looked then.

He already loved the baby to overflowing, but now he understood why the child grew more and more lovable: half of Seo Taecheon was melted within him. How could he not be adorable, no matter how long he looked?

It reminded him of something Deputy Min had once said. There’s a question to weigh before marrying someone:

“If a person just like your partner were born into the world, would that be a good thing?”

It came up by chance at a team dinner. Some rolled their eyes, saying they loved their partner but strongly opposed creating more of “that human.” One even shuddered that such genes ought to end with this era.

He hadn’t quite grasped it then, but now he knew clearly.

With U‑yeon, who resembles Taecheon, born into the world, this place has become a little more beautiful.

At nine months old, strength came into his limbs and he began to crawl. To prevent accidents, Seo Taecheon laid soft mats all over the house and shadowed the baby all day. He fussed, saying the sturdy crawl meant it wouldn’t be long until he stood and took his first steps.

“I’m not kidding — he’ll be walking soon.”

“That fast?”

“Why not? Whose son is he?”

“Hmm… they did say he’s developing ahead of peers. Since both you and I walked early, maybe U‑yeon will start early too.”

Children grow in leaps without parents noticing. As Taecheon said, one day the baby might just stand and toddle; no one could predict it.

Or his tongue might suddenly loosen and he’d cry, “Dad!” If so, wouldn’t it be best to cherish and record these tiny, fragile moments now? Jiwoon felt the need to document.

He booked a family‑photo studio he’d had his eye on. When he said it would be two fathers and a baby, the studio suggested matching outfits. He hadn’t considered that, so he hurried to choose clothes.

Plain tees would have sufficed, but he wanted the picture of their family of three to be special. So after much thought, he prepared the kind of shirts one might wear to the office. There was no shirt that fit a baby, so they decided to wrap him in one of Seo Taecheon’s shirts like a swaddling cloth.

On the day of the shoot, the photographer brought out a sample book — example shots of other families and models.

“Pick the one you like best; we’ll match the composition as closely as possible.”

Flipping through the book, they saw most families of three seated side by side with the child centered between the parents.

“Sitting U‑yeon on your lap or holding him would be the safest.”

“That’s true… but do you have a pose you especially want?”

“Mm… I do, actually. I’m not sure it’s possible.”

“What is it?”

Jiwoon scratched his cheek, sheepish.

“I’ll hold U‑yeon, and you hold me from behind. Like… do‑re‑mi, I guess?”

He mimed it awkwardly. Taecheon laughed aloud.

“That sounds cute. Let’s do it.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I have no backbone, remember.”

Grinning wide, he kissed Jiwoon on the cheek, then left a kiss on sleeping U‑yeon’s forehead.

“Alright, we’re shooting. Hold still.”

They went with the pose Jiwoon suggested. Jiwoon cradled the baby, and behind him, Taecheon stood steady — from there, he could see both at once. The moment he framed the two who made his heart swell just to behold, the photographer clicked a beat too soon.

“Ah — my mistake. One more time.”

This time, Taecheon turned to face the camera.

Snap. The shutter caught the family of three in one frame. Born by chance, bound by fate, they meant to keep this photo for a very long time.

The child began babbling earlier than peers, and when he cried “Daddy!” both Jiwoon and Taecheon nearly keeled over. When he first stood, bracing against the wall, Taecheon’s eyes grew wet, declaring a fine prodigy had been born.

When the baby had begun, as a habit, to chirp “Daddy, Daddy,” in clear syllables, Jiwoon received a Notice of Return to Work.

“Whew…”

Staring up at the sheer height of the Sehwa Hotel & Resort Group tower, he drew a deep breath.

How many years has it been since I’ve come back here.

It was hard to believe he had once been an eager new hire who came and went here daily. This was the place of a wretched boss, grueling tasks, and black marks — and the place where he met Seo Taecheon.

And inside, even now, was an early‑arrived Seo Taecheon at work.

The fear and trembling of returning after so long, the nerves like being a new hire again, pressed down on him — but he had to go in. When the light turned green, he crossed with the crowd.

The lobby looked different, perhaps thanks to a renovation; the information desk had moved, the security turnstiles were entirely new. Without Deputy Min’s tips, he might have wandered.

Riding a much faster elevator, he stepped out on 19. The sign read “Marketing Division — Team 1, Team 2.” Once he opened that glass door, Act Two of working life would begin.

He closed his eyes tight, opened them, and pushed the door. The moment it opened, a storm of applause burst out.

“Welcome!”

“So good to see you!”

The whole department rushed in and surrounded him. As he stood bewildered, Deputy Min Hye‑gyeong approached.

“Assistant Lee, welcome back.”

“Deputy….”

“We’ve been waiting!”

“Me too.”

Jiwoon clasped her hand and shook for a long time.

While he greeted familiar faces in a cheerful racket, the door of “Director of Marketing” on the same floor opened, and steady footsteps approached. Eyes turned naturally toward the source.

“Good morning, Director.”

Staff bowed over one another’s voices. Seo Taecheon stood flawless, like a finely cut diamond. That morning at home, his fringe had fallen and he’d grumbled about not wanting to go — but the Director before him now was different: shoulders broad and straight, radiating the assurance of a man who feared nothing.

And with a smile that seemed to offer to share that courage, he held out his hand.

“Director Seo Taecheon.”

“Assistant Lee Jiwoon, Marketing Team 1.”

“Let’s do well together.”

“Looking forward to it.”

The staff cheered and applauded aloud. Seeing him standing there at last, Jiwoon felt it truly — he was home.