Yoojin twisted her wrist, trying to free herself from Choi Hyun-oh's grip—but his hand held firm, crushing her fragile bones beneath it.
His eyes, shadowed beneath his faint double eyelids, glimmered with a dangerous light.
"Yoojin," he said softly, almost fondly. "You know I'm not good at waiting, right? You've seen that before… many times."
"What are you talking abou—"
Her voice caught in her throat before she could finish.
A thin smile curved across Hyun-oh's composed face as he leaned closer, his breath brushing her cheek.
"I don't really understand what you're saying," she managed, her breath trembling.
Hyun-oh raised his right hand, tracing his fingers—index and middle—down the side of her face.
His touch slid over her white skin, down her cheek.
Goosebumps rippled across her body where his fingertips brushed.
"Why now?" he murmured.
"Honestly, I'm not the type to play around with kids."
He sighed, as if weary, his voice low and deliberate.
"But even like this, you're still beautiful. I've always wondered what you were like before I met you."
Yoojin said nothing. Her silence hung heavy between them.
"I heard you quit ballet," he continued. "Why? You could've kept dancing. What's wrong with accepting a little help from the foundation?"
She didn't answer.
"No, never mind. It's fine," he said at last, his gaze deepening, his tone laced with hunger.
"I'll give you some time. Five years. I'll wait—until the day we first met."
Yoojin's pupils shook violently.
He remembered.
He remembered everything from before.
How?
Hyun-oh read the shock in her face and smirked, his voice curling like smoke.
"I'll graduate soon and go abroad again. Maybe I'll finish faster this time.Ha… or maybe I shouldn't go at all. After all, I am still the heir to Gangrim Group. But this time, I plan to do things differently. I'll find the bastard who pushed our child into the sea. Don't you think?"
His hand that had been caressing her cheek slid down, wrapping around it with icy pressure.
"Five years, Yoojin. I'll come for you then. So behave yourself, all right? And next time… let's have a child sooner, hmm?"
Yoojin could not move.
Could not speak.
This was a curse—a curse she could never escape.
In her mind's eye, the demon Rothbart appeared, binding her arms and legs, laughing as she struggled.
Will I never break free from him, even in this life?
What am I supposed to do now…?
Her eyes turned glassy, hollow like those of a hunted deer.
She stared at Hyun-oh without resistance, frozen.
"Yoojin!"
Dongha's voice sliced through the air.
Her nerves snapped back into motion, and she wrenched her face away, violently shaking off Hyun-oh's hand. His grip fell loose, his arm dropping to his side.
"Dongha…"
Dongha, on his way to the dressing room, had seen everything—the way Hyun-oh was holding her—and rushed forward immediately.
Hyun-oh slowly released his grasp, but Yoojin's right wrist was already marked red with the imprint of his fingers.
Dongha's eyes fell on the bruise, then lifted to Hyun-oh's face.
Without a word, he stepped between them, pulling Yoojin behind him.
Their eyes clashed—fierce, sharp, and unyielding.
Dongha narrowed his brow slightly, recognizing him.
The young man beside Chairwoman Hong In-hee earlier—Choi Hyun-oh. The heir to Gangrim Group.
Dongha's gaze darkened.
"Let's go," Yoojin said, tugging at his hand.
He followed her, walking quickly away from Hyun-oh.
"Tch… that little brat,"
Hyun-oh muttered, watching them go.
For a moment, he considered following them.
But now wasn't the time—he couldn't reveal his interest in Yoojin, not yet.
Still, the encounter had been valuable.
He was certain of it now—Yoojin remembered, too.
"Five years of freedom," he whispered. "After that, there won't be another chance."
Hyun-oh stared at their retreating figures, wondering how patiently he could endure those years.
Dongha and Yoojin left the auditorium building and walked toward the school gate.
Yoojin called her mother, arranging to meet her there.
Dongha listened quietly, his thoughts elsewhere.
When she ended the call, he spoke suddenly.
"What was that?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know the chairwoman's son?"
"Not really."
"Not really? Then why were you standing there letting him grab you like that? He touched your face, didn't he?"
Yoojin said nothing.
She couldn't explain—not without revealing the impossible truth.
That the man had ruined ten years of her previous life, and had now found her again.
"You know that's illegal, right? A college guy hitting on a middle schooler? What the hell, Yoojin? Why didn't you push him away?"
His words came out sharp and furious, but her silence only grew heavier.
"Forget it," she said quietly.
The courtyard was nearly empty now.
The festival had ended, and the winter evening was setting in.
Bare branches reached into the dark sky, and the scent of frost filled the air.
Streetlights flickered on, casting pools of light as they walked.
When the gate came into view, Dongha spoke again.
"Fine. Quit ballet."
"What?"
Yoojin stopped walking, turning toward him.
They stood a few steps apart.
"That's why that guy came, right? To talk you out of quitting?"
Ah…
He thinks Hyun-oh came to convince me to stay in ballet.
"Thinking about that bastard makes me sick," Dongha muttered. "You know, I was actually going to tell you not to quit—but forget it. Just quit."
His voice trailed off with a low curse, and Yoojin blinked, startled. Then, despite herself, a small laugh escaped her lips.
It was absurd and oddly touching.
"You know what? I'm quitting no matter what you say," she said with a half-smile.
"Yeah, I figured. Then I'll quit too. Ballet's not worth doing without you."
"What—Dongha!"
She gaped at him.
If Dongha quit ballet, it would be a loss for the entire art world.
He couldn't possibly mean that.
"Think before you talk!"
"I started dancing because of you," he said simply. "So if you stop, I'm done too."
"What does that even mean? Don't be ridiculous. Your life isn't about me. You have to dance."
"If you won't dance, neither will I."
"That's nonsense."
"Then give me your number."
He extended his hand toward her.
"No way. You just focus on dancing," she said, hiding her phone behind her back.
"You were born to dance, Dongha."
His eyes burned with frustration, but he said nothing for a long moment.
Finally, he exhaled in defeat.
"Fine. I'll keep dancing. But give me your phone."
Her expression softened.
She handed it over hesitantly.
Dongha typed in his number, called himself, then hung up and called her back.
Her phone lit up, and only then did his face relax.
"There. Save it. I'll call you," he said, handing it back before walking toward the gate.
Just then, Yoojin saw her mother approaching.
After that day, Yoojin never heard from Dongha again.
After her encounter with Choi Hyun-oh, she devoted herself entirely to erasing her presence from Gangrim Arts Middle School.
Her family soon moved, and both her and her mother's phone numbers changed.
She missed the remaining classes, didn't attend graduation, and slowly, her name faded from memory within the school.
Only Se-ryun still had her number.
When Se-ryun called, scolding her for disappearing, Yoojin explained about the foundation's contract offer.
Se-ryun's temper flared immediately.
"Should I ask my parents' lawyers to look at that contract? This is insane!"
"No, don't. I'm quitting ballet anyway," Yoojin said softly.
"What? Then I'll never get to see you dance again."
"You didn't even like ballet," Yoojin teased.
"That's not true. I loved watching you dance. I love you, idiot!"
Yoojin laughed, her nose stinging unexpectedly.
"It's okay. Since I'm not dancing anymore, we can go eat and hang out all the time!"
She spoke in a playful, childlike tone, and Se-ryun finally smiled, shaking her head.
"You little bitch."
Yoojin smiled back—but Dongha's face surfaced in her mind.
She thought about how he must've felt when she said she was quitting.
A pang of guilt struck her chest.
But she didn't let herself dwell on him for long.
There were other paths she had to carve—roads she hadn't taken in her first life.