Chapter 83: Blindfold Splint (9)

Part 16

Entering the café, I saw them already seated, sipping coffee they’d ordered. The place was busy, but despite no specific description of “who” or “what they looked like,” I instinctively knew it was them—sitting by the window, chair angled to avoid the sunlight.

Even seated, their tall frame was obvious. Jet-black hair, barely tinged with brown, swayed faintly near their nape with each lift and set of the coffee cup. A slight grimace suggested the coffee wasn’t to their liking. Sharp features hinted at an intense presence, even without that expression.

Their light shirt and the glinting watch on their wrist screamed “polished,” but recognizing the shirt’s brand, I couldn’t ignore the subtle flex of wealth. That watch might cost ten times more than everything I’m wearing combined. The thought flitted through my mind.

“…Oh,” I muttered.

Did they sense my blatant staring? Before Dr. Kang could nudge me, the man, who’d been glaring at his coffee, turned his gaze toward me. Pushing his chair back with a faint scrape, drowned by the café’s music, he walked toward us with an air of inevitability.

I glanced at Dr. Kang. Whether by chance or intent, he was already looking at me, nodding silently as if confirming, That’s him.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Choi Sihyun,” he said.

“Oh…” I faltered.

“May I have your name?” he asked.

His outstretched hand hung there. I knew it was rude to stare blankly, but I couldn’t help it. I’d imagined someone rougher, more reckless. Yet, standing before me, Choi Sihyun seemed intellectual, almost overly courteous—hardly the type to have caused the chaos I’d heard about.

An awkward silence lingered. Snapping out of it, I cautiously took his hand. His height, a full head taller, forced my gaze upward. His smile, shadowed slightly by the backlighting, didn’t feel dark despite his sharp features.

Confident? No, cynical?

“…I’m Yoonseo, here on Dr. Kang Young-hoo’s introduction. Nice to meet you,” I said.

They say the unknown breeds fear. I couldn’t even guess at the emotions behind his smile-like expression. A mask. A poker face was expected, but this was something else—an unfamiliar emotion I’d never felt. My voice trembled as I spoke, followed by a low, “Pfft,” chuckle from him.

“Haha! You make it sound like a blind date. Relax, no need to be so stiff. Dr. Kang, it’s been what, two weeks? Glad to see you’re as steady as ever. How’ve you been?” Sihyun asked.

“…Thanks to you,” Dr. Kang replied.

“It’s awkward standing here. Shall we sit? They claim to use fresh beans—the coffee’s not bad. Would you both like a cup?” Sihyun offered.

I nearly blurted, “Liar.” Swallowing the words, I registered his cheerful tone and casual stride back to his seat. Yet, something somber lingered in his silhouette. What was it?

He was skilled at hiding. His movements, emotions, expressions, voice—everything. Without prior warning of “who he was,” I’d have missed it. My clenched fist trembled lightly. He might not tell me anything about himself, I sensed.

Conversing with someone so guarded was always daunting. Suddenly, I realized this meeting might be more exhausting than I’d anticipated.

Part 17

“Are you a broadcaster?” Sihyun asked.

“No, um… my brother’s a streamer,” I replied.

“Oh, internet streaming! You’re so striking, I assumed you were training to be a celebrity or something. If your brother’s a streamer, does that mean you don’t do public activities?” he pressed.

“Well… for now…” I hedged.

“Am I being too familiar? I’m still figuring out how to… keep my distance with ‘reason,’” he said.

“No… it’s fine…” I mumbled.

A cold smile flickered across his face, caught only by chance. He was adept at controlling emotions, a skill honed long ago. I lacked the finesse to read such a guarded expression.

“You know a bit about me, and we’re in similar situations, so I thought I’d speak freely. Would that make you uncomfortable?” he asked.

Dr. Kang stayed silent, as if avoiding involvement unless it concerned him directly. Having once called himself a failure, perhaps he feared saying something that’d drag me into rejection alongside him.

“…No. This meeting’s for that purpose, after all,” I said.

I shook my head lightly. Right. This was about that conversation—not just listening, but sharing. Under the table, out of sight, I clenched my fist again. Forcing a smile over my stiffening expression, I responded. Sihyun’s unreadable smile deepened, as if answering my voice.

“People with the same condition helping each other, sharing experiences… that’s the point, right? I like that. Overseas, they’re so strict about patient privacy, I never met others with this condition. I’ve always wanted a meeting like this. If it’s okay, could you share about—” he began.

“No,” I cut in.

My voice came out colder than intended, startling even me. My eyes widened briefly. His gaze, slightly narrowed in surprise, met mine. I steadied myself.

“Tell me about you first, Sihyun-ssi,” I said.

He was skilled at conversation, emotion control, hiding wounds. If this went his way, I’d hear nothing substantial—just trivialities, not the core of him. My gut told me I was right, and thankfully, he didn’t seem inclined to deny it.

“You’re sharper than you look. Dr. Kang, did you—” Sihyun started.

“Nothing I said would break any laws, don’t worry,” Dr. Kang interrupted.

“The opposite, but there’s some truth to it… is that what you’re getting at?” Sihyun replied.

Dr. Kang shrugged. I almost wished he’d say something to ease the tension.

“…Fine. Since talking about myself breaks no laws, I’ll speak freely. It might be uncomfortable,” Sihyun said.

The mood shifted. Not just a change, but like a blade sharpened to a razor’s edge. His guarded facade vanished, replaced by a raw, unfiltered presence, chillingly eerie.

“You might understand, having been through it…” he began.

Zero or one hundred. The moment he sensed trouble, he smashed the brakes and charged toward one hundred. Living recklessly, unapologetically.

“Have you ever been threatened with murder by parents demanding their child back?” he asked.

In the café, filled with upbeat pop songs, his voice—calm, as if the music would mask it—began to unfold.