It was not the state of the car she used to know. The situation on the passenger side was disastrous. What would cause a window to break unless there had been an accident?

Looking at the vehicle, which was as much of a wreck as she was, Song Hae-som felt a strange sense of kinship.

While Hae-som was distracted by it, Eun-jung and Chang-jun approached Jong-myeong, who had come out to the entrance to greet them.

“Seunim, why did you come all the way out here?”

“We feel terrible for always bothering you like this, but our daughter really wanted to come to Hunam-sa. We’ll leave her in your care.”

Jong-myeong gave a bitter smile at the couple. They looked just as gaunt and worn out as the very skinny Hae-som.

“Imposing between family? Let me show Hae-som her room, and we can all have a cup of tea.”

Even as the three of them moved to the tea room, Hae-som’s gaze remained anchored to Jae-geon’s car.

Half of her wished he were here at Hunam-sa, while the other half blamed herself and hoped he wasn’t. Her heart kept swaying back and forth.

After sending off her parents with a lukewarm goodbye as they prepared to return to their main house, Hae-som unpacked her bags in a room at the very end of the yosachae.

Her mother had told her to come back before winter, yet she had packed her winter clothes so meticulously—turtlenecks, coats, and even a long padded parka.

---

It seemed practicing non-possession during her stay at Hunam-sa was out of the question.

A monk who clearly understood the virtues of full possession entered with a soft tap, carrying three or four of Hae-som’s favorite wild herb side dishes and some nurungji.

“I heard you haven’t had lunch yet?”

Even though he obviously knew from her parents that she had lost her appetite, he played dumb.

Under his stubborn gaze, she picked up her spoon, but she could not summon any appetite. The rice in her mouth felt as heavy as lead.

Jong-myeong tried everything—almost forcing the spoon into her mouth, begging her to chew just a few grains, and half-threatening her to at least drink the nurungji broth out of respect for the cook’s effort—but he eventually gave up.

“I’ll eat later when I get hungry.”

“Yeah, right.”

It was just like when they had lost Eun-ho. Refusing food, sleeping all day, and soon refusing to speak at all…

Hae-som’s parents had diagnosed her condition as the emptiness following the end of her internship, but Jong-myeong, who knew the full story, could tell this was clearly lovesickness.

Just like a certain someone who had wrecked an eight-cylinder turbo Panamera until it looked worse than an old farm tractor.

“Should I call Jae-geon and tell him to come?”

Hae-som’s eyes, which had widened like a rabbit’s, suddenly brimmed with tears and crumpled. The floodgates opened before they could even begin. Her tears stained his light gray monk’s robe with dark spots.

“Sniff! S-Seunim! Hiccup! Did you tell him, Seunim?”

Gently soothing her sorrowful, trembling breaths, Jong-myeong recalled Eun-seong, whom Jae-geon had once mentioned.

Eun-seong was someone who had no self-esteem of his own, having spent his life cleaning up after his sick brother. Only by taking safe care of Eun-ho did his parents’ praise follow. Therefore, a day without Eun-ho was meaningless for Eun-seong.

When Eun-ho passed away so suddenly, Eun-seong had suffered through a grueling growing pain just like Hae-som. Another name for that growing pain was inferiority.

Then, he met Jae-geon—who looked exactly like Eun-ho, and was even better than Eun-ho… It was no wonder Eun-seong had lost his mind.

Jae-geon must have been badly hurt by Eun-seong, who had come at him with a blade in his mouth, and Hae-som was the one who bore the brunt of the aftermath.

Jong-myeong agonized over where to intervene and whether stepping in would only end up hurting them twice.

“Sniff, Seunim! I… sob! I think I… hiccup! I think I like Chef.”

“…”

“My heart hurts so much. The fifteen days I haven’t seen Chef feel longer than the four years I couldn’t see Eun-ho Oppa, hiccup!“

“…Hae-som.”

“What do I do? Sniff!“

As Hae-som wept hysterically, Jong-myeong, feeling helpless, turned his eyes to the recipe book she had brought with her.

She had made so many notes in it; colorful sticky notes, like autumn leaves, were tucked in everywhere.

It was honestly impressive that she still had the will to study through all of this.

Jong-myeong clasped his hands in prayer, hoping the biting wind in her fragile heart would soon subside, and that spring would arrive as quickly as possible.

---

A rooster announced the morning. Hae-som stretched with a big yawn, quickly tidied her bedding, and rushed to the gongyanggan with her recipe book tucked under her arm.

Her appetite, which would not return even when the monk offered mountains of delicacies, recovered like magic the moment she opened the cookbook to feel Jae-geon’s touch.

It was not a simple translation. Every recipe that Jae-geon usually kept an eye on, especially those that were difficult to convert into vegetarian dishes, was marked.

Gratin, bourguignon, quiche, and so on. Among them, her mouth watered at the thought of a potato gratin with a crispy top.

She had tossed and turned all night, pondering. How could she make a Béchamel sauce in a temple where dairy products could not be used? And how would she replicate the crispy cheese?

It felt like she had been given homework to deepen her culinary skills based on vegetarian cooking. Was vegetarianism the next test topic after burdock?

Hae-som found it rather pleasant to be trained by him in this manner.

“Hello, Bosal-nims.”

“Oh, has our syappu arrived?”

“Not syappu, it’s chef.”

“Syeppeu?”

“Chef!”

Chae-gong frowned slightly, teasing that she had become picky after studying in Seoul.

“Why are you studying in a temple? You should do it at school, school.”

After hearing about Hae-som’s circumstances, the academic affairs office had suggested that she graduate by taking just one online class and participating in an exhibition. Since she had all completed her courses through the first semester of her senior year, she had already met the graduation requirements.

“Life lessons are lessons too.”

Dismissing it with a sweet, affectionate smile, Hae-som crouched in front of the kitchen hearth and opened her book.

Potatoes, garlic, milk, butter, fresh cream, cheese.

Although the mountain of ingredients made her head spin, odd enough, that was exactly what made cooking fun.

A dish that seemed to have no hope of survival could become delicious with just a single pinch of salt.

A single success achieved after ninety-nine failures is what gets called a ‘recipe.’

She was engrossed, a cute, soft smile playing on the corners of her lips, when she suddenly heard Jong-myeong’s voice.

“Hello?”

He was definitely on the phone. Could it be Jae-geon?

Hae-som suddenly tossed her book aside and rushed over. Without warning, she pressed her ear right against Jong-myeong’s phone.

A familiar voice flowed from the low-quality speaker.

How is Song Hae-som doing?

Hae-som could realize in an instant that the person who had exposed Eun-ho’s existence to Jae-geon was Eun-seong.

From Yoo Eun-seong’s perspective, yes, it must have been quite an eyesore. His single-minded crush, which had always revolved around Eun-ho, was shaken by a man who looked like Eun-ho.

Actually, it was easier to empathize with Eun-seong. Her head spun for a moment, but it was not to the point of anger.

Even if it was not Eun-seong, it was something that would have come to light eventually. Blaming him would not solve the problem.

She tried to act like an adult, to let it go with a generous heart. She even thought she looked a bit cool doing so.

However, watching the monk chat about trivial things with Eun-seong—who had driven a wedge between her and Jae-geon—she could not help but feel a rush of betrayal.

She wondered if Yoo Eun-seong came before Song Hae-som, and when on earth the monk would ever call Jae-geon. Her eyes grew red for no reason.

She walked wherever her feet led her. The fallen leaves kicked by her sullen steps screamed with a crisp rustle, but she could not care less.

Crossing the Daeungjeon yard where she had once been held by Jae-geon and passing through a small vegetable garden, the half-wrecked car came into view. She had heard that if left abandoned for too long, the battery life would drain; she wondered if it would even start.

“Where did your owner go? Is it okay for you to be left alone like this?”

She playfully threw a light jab at the car as if starting a fight. It was clearly a punch as soft as a cotton ball. She had not even touched the wheels.

But the car wheel suddenly let out a hissing sound as air escaped, and the tire went completely flat right before her eyes!

“Oh no, what do I do!”

Muttering to herself, Hae-som squatted down and groped around for the puncture in the tire, but it was like pouring water into a bottomless pit.

Jong-myeong, who had been quietly trailing behind Hae-som, hung up the phone and approached her flustered figure.

“The Precept of Not Striking. The Buddha said to use words instead of hitting.”

At his clearly teasing tone, Hae-som squinted her eyes in retort.

“This is not a living thing. Why, is it something like that to someone whose virtue is full possession?”

“Should I call Jae-geon for you?”

Her breath caught for a split second at the abrupt question. Tears welled up in her eyes in an instant.

“No.”

She missed him very bad, but…

She did not want to commit the cruel act of calling him to this place, which was filled to the brim with memories of Eun-ho.

She wanted to just hold onto this useless car shell and miss him, then go to him and confess formally once she was ready someday.

Though she did not know if he would even spare her a glance.

From what she had heard from Hwi and Jae-min, he was apparently spending his days in complete peace.

The autumn preview tasting had ended successfully, and the sponsor issues that had troubled him seemed to be getting resolved somehow.

She was glad he was doing well. She meant that with all her heart.

The Panamera vanished four days later, on a Saturday night.

---

Jong-myeong realized that before Jung Jae-geon was a cold-hearted nephew, he was a heartless man.

The car had vanished on the very night he sent Jae-geon the photo. It had disappeared like a mirage, without a single word of notice. Only the tire tracks left by a tow truck explained the rough situation.

If the empty space felt this chilly to someone in their fifties like him, there was no way a tender twenty-four-year-old heart would be fine.

Hae-som was crouched in the spot where the car used to be, wrapped in a long padded parka that one would only wear during a heavy blizzard.

Tak!

She was playing a game of alkkagi using the broken glass shards as game pieces, a sight that looked precarious. Thanks to her sensitive fingertips, she managed not to cut herself, but her expression seemed almost regretful that she had not.

“Hae-som-ah.”

There was not even a faint smile left on her face, which used to beam even when she refused food. Jong-myeong’s heart ached at her state, which was even more devastating than when they had lost Eun-ho.

“They say it’s 26 degrees out right now. Aren’t you hot?”

“No, I’m cold.”

Her pale forehead, devoid of a single drop of sweat, made it seem as though she really was. Her chapped, cracked lips trembled as if she were experiencing chills.

Her body, which had been trembling with the fear of loss, suddenly leaned entirely into him. As the volume of her padded coat compressed, he could feel her bone-thin ribs like dry twigs. A sigh escaped from between his parted teeth.

“Your embrace is cold, Seunim. I feel like I’m going to get frostbite.”

“…”

“Chef was really warm. I think that’s why I slept so well. His beating heart was like a lullaby, and the breath he blew out was like a pine breeze.”

Hae-som was no longer crying. She was serene, as if she had completely severed even the tiniest seed of emotion. That only made Jong-myeong’s heart ache more.

“They say Chef is doing well. Doing his work well, eating well, sleeping well, and still looking cool… What a relief, right?”

As if that were true. He was only putting on a tough front. Inside, he must be caught in a storm of emotions he had never experienced in his life.

Accepting Hae-som would mean dragging Eun-ho into it, but ignoring her was driving him crazy.

Retrieving the car had been his desperate attempt to leave Hae-som with no lingering hope. And yet, by doing so, he had kept her within his sight.

She belonged to that narrow boundary that neither Seo Hyeon-cheol nor Jung Gyeong-won could ever approach.

Something had to be done before it was too late. There was a way.

The so-called Choi Yoon-hee strategy?

Jong-myeong carefully helped steady her frail, fragile body.

“Song Hae-som.”

At the unusually stern address, Hae-som’s pupils contracted like pins. Once he was sure she was alert, Jong-myeong lowered his voice.

“Listen carefully to what I am about to say.”