NLFSD Chapter 87

Chapter 87

Madam Choi glanced behind her — Jiwoon’s “disguise” left much to be desired. Failing to flee in time, he had ducked under a quilt. Pitiful perhaps, yet she understood: under the circumstances, it was the only option he saw.

“Well… what are you talking about, son?” she said lightly, feigning ignorance, forcing a smile.

But Seo Taecheon had already noticed. His mother, always a stickler for tidiness, would never leave a quilt sprawled across her living room floor. And there it was — bulging oddly, as if concealing a person. Nearby lay half‑peeled mangoes and a pile of tangerine rinds.

What really caught his eye was the style of those peelings. Not ragged chunks, but long, unbroken curls — peeled in a single strike, snap to finish. Exactly Jiwoon’s boast: his “special talent” of never breaking a tangerine peel.

“…Mother. Is someone there behind you?” he asked in a low voice.

Under the blanket, Jiwoon trembled. The quilt quivered with his fear.

“I’m here alone, what nonsense,” she replied, calm as ever.

“Oh… is that so?”

“Yes. I’ve been alone the whole time. All day, in fact.”

Her tone was cool, unaffected.

“…I see.”

Silence lingered. Five seconds dragged like five years. Jiwoon, beneath the covers, sweated rivers.

I’m sorry, Taecheon. I just can’t face you now. I’ll gather my courage, calm my heart… and meet you later.

But his body betrayed him: a sniffle slipped out. Barely audible, but real.

“Mother… You still know that investigator friend of yours, don’t you?” Taecheon said at last.

“Oh? You mean my detective classmate?”

“Yes. The one who specializes in finding people.”

“Yes, I saw her recently at a reunion. She said business was thriving.”

It was the same contact who years ago had aided Choi when she raised Taecheon alone, and again recently when she’d helped locate Jiwoon’s records.

“Please give me her contact.”

“…Why?”

“To find Jiwoon.”

At the frank statement, Madam Choi faltered.

“Oh… I, um, don’t quite recall her number.”

“You only just saw her, Mother. Couldn’t you check with your classmates?”

“…I… suppose.”

What now? she fretted, trapped between lies and truths.

“Please, Mother. Once you confirm, send it to me.”

“…Fine.”

Resigned, she agreed, then cut the call. Exhaling, she turned to the trembling figure.

“…You can come out now.”

“Is it over?” Jiwoon poked his head out cautiously.

“Yes, he hung up.”

“Huuu…”

He tossed off the quilt, wiping sweat from his temple.

“But I don’t like this. I think he suspects…”

“What? Really?”

Fear electrified Jiwoon. His hands shook.

“What if he storms over here? What if he finds out I’m hiding?”

“Calm. He doesn’t know we’ve ever met.”

It was true: their exchanges — the envelope of money, the tonic later — remained secret. Officially, Taecheon still thought his mother had never met Jiwoon.

“…Right.”

“So he won’t imagine you’re here.”

“…I hope so.”

“Trust me. Don’t stress — stress harms both you and the baby.”

She plucked a tangerine and gently placed it in his lap. The simple gesture comforted Jiwoon.

“Thank you, Mother.”

“Relax. You’re safe.”

Her steadiness eased him somewhat. Yet he still struggled to swallow: the fear that Taecheon might see through everything and come crashing in.

Unable to sit still, he paced her living room, sighed deeply, shuffled to the window, slumped on the sofa, repeating the cycle. Watching him, Madam Choi sighed too.

“Don’t fret like that. Go rest in the guest room — it should be warm by now.”

“…Really?”

“Yes. I even have some clothes I meant for Taecheon. Wear those.”

“Thank you…”

She fetched them: far too large for Jiwoon, but cozy.

“You’ve had a long day. Rest, child.”

“Yes, Mother.”

The guest room was snug. He washed, then sat on the warm floor instead of bed, heat rising from beneath. Tugging the blanket down from the frame, he lay upon it, cocooned.

Should I contact him? And if I do… what do I say first?

He couldn’t sleep, emotions knotted. Instinctively his hand drifted to his stomach.

“…Mango.”

He had chosen already: Mango for the unborn child’s halmyung — nickname in womb.

“Daddy’s struggling…” he whispered, stroking tenderly.

“Your other daddy must be lost without me. Maybe he’s hurting too.”

His palm radiated affection, guilt, shame. In his mind, Taecheon’s anguished face loomed.

“…I love him, Mango. I need to tell him about you. But how? The timing is so ugly.”

Tears blurred his vision again. He knew no one would rejoice like Taecheon upon hearing of their child — yet right now felt like the worst timing possible.

“I’ll think tomorrow. Forgive me, Taecheon. Sorry, Mango.”

Over‑heated flooring smothered him like sticky rice cake; exhaustion from days of flight collapsed him finally. He fell into deep sleep.

The next morning, Jiwoon awoke to find Madam Choi had gone on museum business, leaving breakfast behind. Eating quietly, he turned his phone on. At least tell him I’m safe. That will calm him.

Immediately, messages poured in. Missed calls: over one hundred.

“…He must be frantic.”

He clutched his head. Then searched for Deputy Min Hye‑gyeong’s number.

Deputy, it’s me. How are you?

Her reply came at once.

Min: Assistant Lee, you’re alright?

Yes, I’m fine. Actually… may I ask something?

Min: Go on.

Please don’t think it strange… the Director, Seo Taecheon… is he okay?

Her answer lagged. Jiwoon imagined her astonishment — quitting, then vanishing, only to inquire after the very man at the center of it.

Min: Why?

I just wondered how he is.

Min: He hasn’t been in the office since yesterday.

What?

Min: No idea why. But he didn’t show yesterday, and today… he hasn’t come in at all.

Jiwoon froze.

What?! Skipping work to… find me?

It hit him like ice. The Director — always so devoted to responsibility — had abandoned his post. Unprecedented.

Ah… understood. Thank you.

Min: Why do you ask?

Nothing. Really, thank you.

Shaken, Jiwoon needed air. Maybe fresh air would clear the storm. He opened the living room window.

From this third floor vantage, he saw the black sedan pulling into the apartment complex.

He recognized it instantly. Seo Taecheon’s car.

“Aaah!”

It was heading right for the building.