𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐋𝐄 ♕ 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐊

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿

"Your hand," Gaeun noticed when he folded up his sleeves, "It looks better."

He had removed the binding beads and set them aside some time in his sleep. Flexing his arm Wook nodded, "Yeah, it feels much better. The water's warm enough now. Hold onto me while you climb."

Instead of clasping his hand, Gaeun side-eyed him while shimmying out of her outer robes. Wook blinked and turned away, clearing his throat. "I'm still wearing clothes," she said flatly, arching a brow at the way he was fidgeting. "What's with you? You were the one who always complained that it didn't matter because you've seen me naked before."

"No," he dragged the syllables in his whiny tone, "That was before—before...I just realized it's wrong of me to say that."

Wook helped her in, holding onto her waist as she climbed the set of stairs, and then her hand while she dipped into the water. It was beginning to feel strange after a point, especially when he offered to wash her hair while still gripping her hand. "You're supposed to, after a funeral," he told her, not taking no for an answer, "Kim Dojoo said so. And be careful about your wound. Don't let the wrappings dampen."

"Okay, but you need to let go of me—"

"No. I'm never letting go."

"What is wrong with you?"

At the long stretch of silence, Gaeun looked up at him and found him staring at her back. Her thin robe had turned transparent and while she held her hands over her front, the glowing scars on her back were visible.

Gold on ivory, he had said and Gaeun wanted to scoff. "Scars aren't pretty to everyone," she said, sinking in the water, "Fool."

"I know," he replied softly, "I will never ask about them unless you bring them up."

Minha lounged by the firewood until Gaeun finished. Wook lowered his eyes while helping her out and wrapped a large towel around her before bringing her a set of lighter clothes to change into. Once she was done, he picked her up again.

This was already driving Gaeun up the wall. Did she really look so pathetic that he had to treat her like a child? He had even offered to feed her if she felt too tired to sit up.

"I can feed myself," she snapped as he reheated the food over the stove. Where had he learned to do that, she wondered. "You're worrying over nothing."

"You're not nothing," Wook shot back immediately.

He left her in the front hall, sitting by the table and holding back tears while he brought her lunch. This sudden change in him was overwhelming. Gaeun wanted it to be real. She wanted to rejoice that her fake husband had loved her just as she had loved him. But Wook would tire of taking care of her soon. His niceness never lasted long when it came to her.

He set down a tray in front of her and huffed as if he was dealing with a kid. "Here," he nudged the food towards her, "I made you tea as well. Since you're so adamant that you can eat by yourself, I won't force you to—no, wait!"

Gaeun hadn't expected the strong prickling sensation in her hand when she touched the ceramic tea glass. She gasped, dropping it to the floor, and shook her hand. "What...what is this," she clutched her wrist tightly when the pain refused to subside.

Wook scrambled for a cold cloth and pressed it over her palm. "You burned it," he scolded her sharply, "Idiot. You've hurt both your hands now. Let me see—at least the skin is still intact."

She frowned as he examined her injury carefully and asked, "That's what a burn feels like?"

"It's mild," he answered without looking up, "Why, have you never—"