Four years ago, Hae-som was told of Eun-ho’s death.

She had met him as a child and carried an unreturned love for him ever since. He was the one who refused her feelings to the end, using his frail health as an excuse.

He did have a chronic illness, but it was never life-threatening, nor something that could worsen overnight.

Yet while Hae-som slept, he died. By the time she learned of it, the funeral was already over, and his ashes had been scattered in the mountain village where he lived.

Eun-ho vanished without leaving even fragments behind.

There was nothing about it that made sense. So she chose not to believe it.

Yoo Eun-ho had not died—he had disappeared. He was missing. Hae-som clenched her teeth and shut her eyes to the truth for years.

And now, it seemed that wish had not been pure fantasy after all.

“……”

Slightly wavy hair. Eyes like a deep abyss with no bottom. A straight, elegant nose. A masculine jawline that split faintly at the chin.

All of it resembled Eun-ho.

The man before her, known as Jeong Jae-geon yet carrying a hidden air, might be the missing Yoo Eun-ho. Her heart pounded as if carved by a blade.

“Miss Seong Hae-som.”

Even the way he addressed her matched Eun-ho.

Back when first love and longing blurred together in those innocent years, Eun-ho used to call her that. Hae-som, the tomboy who ruled the hillside neighborhood, would turn into the gentlest young lady each time and answer him.

“Yes.”

He would hand her a candy meant for the living room, or pat her head and call her good.

“If you want to work that badly, then I should let you.”

Though his tone carried mockery, Hae-som could not bring herself to release that thin thread of hope that he was Eun-ho. Her heart beat out of rhythm.

“When can you start?”

“I can start right away.”

Afraid that the Eun-ho she had found might vanish again without a trace, Hae-som answered at once, barely blinking. Emotion surged too late, and her voice shook.

With a cold smile, he stepped back and tore the recommendation letter clean in half, then dropped it to the ground.

Ji-won’s business card slipped out and landed on the grass. He had no intention of picking it up, and neither did Hae-som.

“Days off are Sunday and Monday. Start Tuesday. Ten o’clock.”

She failed to stop him as he turned away without hesitation, and Hae-som cried in silence.

He was arrogant and cold, nothing like the gentle man from her past, but she did not care.

Hae-som needed even a shadow that resembled Eun-ho.

---

The bus leaving Seoul soon passed the Man-nam Square rest area.

Man-nam Square…

Hae-som gave a faint smile and turned her gaze from the window. Home lay about thirty minutes away.

She wished even a brief nap would come, but her phone kept vibrating and chased it off.

An unknown number. Given the situation, there was a ninety-nine percent chance it was Ji-won, the one who asked her to play matchmaker between herself and Jae-geon.

‘I know Chef Jeong Jae-geon very well.’

Just how well?

Did she also know everything about what happened after he lost his memories?

Still, Hae-som could not bring herself to touch the screen. She feared confirming that he was not Eun-ho. Part of her also lacked the courage to relay his cold response.

She waited until the vibration stopped, then shut the phone off altogether. Her head felt heavy, like it held a stone.

She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep like this, but the bus had already entered Bundang.

“Sweetheart!”

Hae-som’s gloomy face brightened at once after the long ride from Seoul to Bundang.

“Dad!”

With rain falling without warning, getting home would have been a problem. This meeting came as a surprise. People stuck at the bus stop cast envious looks.

“Did you wait all this time after work?”

After leaving Not, Hae-som wandered through the alleys of Seochon to settle her restless thoughts. When she came to her senses, night had fallen.

She spent another hour on the bus, which meant her doting father must have waited more than two hours at the stop.

Hae-som shot him a reproachful look that held no real bite.

“You should have gone in first. How would you know when I’d arrive?”

“I worried you didn’t bring an umbrella. If you catch a cold, your mom will scold me.”

“And if you catch one?”

“I have a sturdy constitution.”

“You still think you’re sixteen?”

“Sixteen is sixteen.”

Even as she teased him, Hae-som’s lips curved upward like the ribs of an umbrella. Then her smile faded when she noticed Chang-jun’s smaller shoulders.

Her father Chang-jun once served as an executive at a major corporation. Together with his friend Gyeong-ho, Eun-ho’s father, he started a business. But the company collapsed the year Hae-som entered college, and since then, he seemed to have lost contact with Gyeong-ho as well.

Each time she saw the diminished side of a man who once lived as “the boss,” Hae-som sank into thought.

If I had never been born, Mom and Dad would have finished preparing for old age and lived with ease. Maybe having a late child made things harder.

Between the chef who looked like Eun-ho and the mock interview, her heart felt unsettled.

Sensing her mood at once, Chang-jun suddenly bent down and crouched, then grasped Hae-som’s thin ankle like an umbrella rib. Her feet, abused by unfamiliar heels, had swollen.

Without a second thought, he took off his own shoes and put them on her, then hooked her heels on his fingers, opened the umbrella, and stepped into the rain. Wearing shoes that clattered, Hae-som hurried after him.

“Dad! What are you doing!”

“Let’s hurry before the green onion pancake gets cold. Your mom says she’s waiting.”

She never stood a chance against Seong Chang-jun’s signature topic change. The fact that she found herself thinking the pancake sounded good proved she still had a long way to go.

Hae-som linked arms with him and matched his steps. Raindrops tapped the umbrella at steady intervals, a lively rhapsody that ignored her inner pace.

“Let’s grab some makgeolli on the way. Chestnut flavor.”

“Our princess craving a drink today?”

“A little?”

Chang-jun narrowed his eyes.

“What happened that made you late and craving alcohol?”

She never imagined that an internship at her dream place would turn into false hope.

Was Jeong Jae-geon really not Yoo Eun-ho?

Had Yoo Eun-ho truly died so easily?

“Did something happen at the mock interview? Nobody wanted to take our Hae-som? Those people must lack judgment.”

Hae-som straightened the umbrella that leaned toward her at a forty-five-degree angle and answered with a sigh.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“I got introduced to an internship.”

“A restaurant?”

“A very famous one. Lots of awards. Michelin three-star.”

“Wow, our daughter has skills. Working at a place like that. So why worry?”

“The head chef there…”

She could not bring herself to say that he looked like Eun-ho. Her father would carry that loss too deeply.

“The person who connected us doesn’t seem to be on good terms with him. He really disliked me.”

She shifted the story with ease, though her chest ached.

“Ah, caught between whales and got hurt. Let’s buy two bottles of makgeolli. No, three?”

“Tch, you think I’m some kind of drunk.”

Chang-jun laughed so hard his back nearly bent and climbed the convenience store steps first. Compared to Hae-som’s dry shoulders, his were soaked through.

“Still, it’s a chance you worked hard to get. Lots of awards, lots of stars. Give it a shot. If it feels wrong, quit.”

“Okay.”

As she watched him shake the water from the umbrella, something she had held back pushed forward.

“Dad, you haven’t been in touch with Uncle Gyeong-ho lately, have you?”

Chang-jun’s hand froze mid-motion. Water dripped down and filled the silence without purpose. His answer came much later.

“It’s been quite a while.”

“Why?”

She asked, but lacked the courage to hear the answer. He would mention Eun-ho’s death, and that would seal the truth that Jeong Jae-geon was not Yoo Eun-ho.

Chang-jun also hesitated, unable to explain at once, when a phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and forced a smile.

“Perfect timing. It’s your mom. Maybe she’s jealous of our date.”

“Don’t make her wait. Answer it.”

“Honey. I met our youngest and we’re heading home. We’re at the convenience store—want anything?”

Pretending not to see his damp eyes, Hae-som entered the store and picked up two bottles of chilled chestnut makgeolli.

The alcohol went down easily that night. Yet despite drinking with the intent to get drunk, her mind stayed clear. Sleep would escape her again.

Her insomnia began after losing Eun-ho. It grew so severe that even sleeping pills failed. She attended several consultations, but the doctors said her defense mechanisms ran too strong for them to break through.

Most nights, she stayed awake until dawn. Even when sleep came, it lasted only moments.

Facing Eun-ho’s shadow today, she knew sleep would not come easily, yet she forced the attempt. All she gained was a hangover. Foolish.

Hae-som knocked her heavy head with her fist and headed to her room.

Dim lamp light. A cool breeze through the window. Bedding that smelled of softener.

She lay in a space designed for deep sleep and replayed the day.

Yoo Eun-ho who believed himself to be Jeong Jae-geon. Yoo Eun-ho who called her “Miss Seong Hae-som” out of habit, then acted cold on purpose.

“…Eun-ho, oppa.”

Tears rolled without permission. They traced past her temple and soaked the pillow, and Hae-som buried her face.

“Oppa. Hic… sob.”

She cried for some time. Then, all at once, her strength gave out, and the image of Eun-ho she had clutched slipped away. At the same time, something warm and gentle wrapped around her.

‘Miss Seong Hae-som.’

At the end of a long day, a spellbound deep sleep came to Hae-som.

For the first time in four years.