The veil of retribution

Chapter 18: Bound by Secrets

Morning Reflection

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of Yura's apartment, casting soft rays of gold across the floor and illuminating the quiet space where Jihoon stood. The sizzling of a hot pan accompanied the gentle hum of the city outside, yet inside, the air felt thick with unsaid words and emotions too fragile to touch.

Jihoon, still wearing Yura’s oversized pajama pants, was focused on the eggs and vegetables he was frying, though his thoughts wandered far from the stove. The rhythmic sound of his spatula against the pan matched the beat of his racing heart. Last night had changed everything. It was more than just a kiss—it was the unspoken promise of something deeper, something fragile that neither of them could define yet.

He glanced over at Yura, who sat at the edge of the couch, watching him with an unreadable expression. She wore the same white blouse from last night, now wrinkled, and her hair still slightly tousled from sleep. The quiet between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was thick with uncertainty. Last night had been a moment of weakness, or maybe it was strength, Jihoon couldn’t tell. All he knew was that something had shifted between them, something he wasn’t prepared for.

“What’s on your mind?” Yura asked softly, breaking the silence.

Her voice, despite its softness, pulled Jihoon from his thoughts. He turned and smiled at her, though it felt more like a habit than a genuine expression. “Just thinking about how this is the first time I’ve cooked for someone in a while.”

Yura gave a small chuckle, though it seemed forced. “You’ve been cooking for yourself all this time?”

“Yeah,” he said, stirring the vegetables absently. “When you live alone, you either learn to cook or you survive on instant noodles. I chose the former.”

Her smile faded as quickly as it had come. There was something in the way Jihoon spoke about being alone that tugged at her. She knew a thing or two about solitude, though her version had been gilded in luxury and privilege. But there was something about Jihoon’s loneliness that felt more profound, like a shadow that clung to him, even in moments like this.

She hesitated before speaking again. “Jihoon… last night…”

His movements paused for a fraction of a second before resuming. He had known the conversation would come up, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for it.

“Yeah?” he prompted, still not looking at her.

“I just… I don’t know what happens next,” Yura admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jihoon finally turned to face her, setting down the spatula. The look in her eyes was one he hadn’t seen before—vulnerability. It wasn’t the same Yura who stood firm in front of her father, or the Yura who strategized with cold efficiency. This was a Yura who was scared, not of what they were facing but of what they had found in each other.

“We don’t have to know right now,” Jihoon said, walking over to her. “Let’s just take it one step at a time. We’ve got enough to worry about without adding more to it.”

Yura nodded, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t fully ease. She stood up, walking over to the window, her arms wrapped around herself as she gazed out at the sprawling city below. “I just wish things were different,” she murmured. “If my father wasn’t involved in all of this... if you weren’t tied up in it too…”

Jihoon walked over, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out,” he said softly. “Together.”

The word “together” hung in the air between them, a fragile promise neither was sure they could keep. But for now, it was enough.