158: Chapter 158 You look very handsome tonight!

The warm water cascaded down from the showerhead, washing over her skin, but it couldn't wash away the burning thrill in Shin Se-kyung's heart.

She stood in the guest room's shower, letting the hot water run over her body. The bathroom was filled with white steam, and a layer of fog had formed on the mirror, blurring the reflection. She closed her eyes, but the scene from the poolside earlier was vividly clear in her mind.

The sparkling blue water, the silver-like moonlight, and the way he stood by the pool, reaching out his hand to her. The warmth from his palm seemed to linger on her skin, even through the cold wetness.

"Calm down, Shin Se-kyung," she whispered to herself, her voice faint against the sound of rushing water. "It's just a lesson, just... normal teaching."

But her heartbeat refused to obey. Especially when he looked at her with those calm eyes and said something like, "You're like holding the moon in your arms," her rationality nearly collapsed entirely. What did that mean? Was it simple praise, or... something else?

She turned off the water and dried herself with a soft bath towel. In the bathroom cabinet, as expected, there was a new set of women's pajamas—a light gray cotton set, simple and comfortable, and surprisingly the right size.

She changed into them and stood in front of the mirror, slowly wiping her wet hair with a towel. In the mirror, her cheeks were still flushed with an unnatural red, her eyes were startlingly bright, and her lips were unusually rosy from the tension and excitement of the pool earlier.

"I can't think about it anymore," she shook her head vigorously and picked up the hairdryer. The buzzing sound filled the quiet bathroom as the hot air brushed through her hair, but it couldn't blow away the turmoil in her heart.

After drying her hair, she walked to the window. The guest room window faced the courtyard, giving a clear view of the pool below. The lights were already off, only the ground lights in the corner of the courtyard cast a soft glow, outlining the pool's shape. The water was calm, reflecting the crescent moon in the sky, so quiet that everything earlier seemed like an illusion.

But she still smelled faintly of chlorine on her skin, and her skin remembered the touch of the water. Her palm seemed to retain the warmth of his hand.

Shin Se-kyung couldn't sleep. She paced around the room for a few steps, then finally gently pulled open the door.

The hallway was very quiet, with only a few night lights on the walls emitting a faint glow. She wanted to go downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water; maybe drinking some water would calm her chaotic thoughts.

Her bare feet stepped on the soft carpet, making almost no sound. She walked down the spiral staircase. In the living room, only a few wall sconces were lit, casting a dim, warm light that cut the spacious area into alternating light and shadow. The air had a faint, pleasant scent of aromatherapy—a fresh blend of cedar and citrus.

Then, her steps halted.

At the other end of the living room, by the small bar counter connected to the open kitchen, stood a person.

Song Tianhao had also changed clothes. He was no longer in the casual wear from the day but a set of dark gray silk loungewear. The soft fabric clung to his tall figure, shedding some of the daytime formality and distance, adding a touch of homey casualness and... laziness.

He had his back to the stairs, holding a glass and drinking water. His Adam's apple moved up and down as he swallowed, his profile sharply defined under the dim light.

Hearing the slight footsteps, he put down the glass and turned around.

Their eyes met.

Shin Se-kyung's heart skipped a beat. She subconsciously clutched the hem of her pajamas. The soft fabric only made her more nervous. She saw his gaze linger on her for a moment, very brief, then shift to her face.

"Not asleep yet?" His voice sounded in the quiet living room, deeper than usual, slightly moist from drinking water.

"A, a little thirsty," Shin Se-kyung heard her own voice, a bit dry. She walked down the last two steps, her feet on the cool marble floor, trying to make her expression look natural. "I came to get some water."

President Song nodded, said nothing, but turned to take another clean glass from the rack and walked to the built-in water dispenser. The sound of water flowed as he filled half a glass with warm water, then walked back. Across the small walnut bar counter, he handed her the glass.

"Thank you, President Song." Shin Se-kyung took the glass, her fingertips inevitably brushing against his fingers. A very light touch, gone in an instant, but it made her fingers curl slightly. The glass was warm; the temperature of the water passed through the glass to her palm, soothing her slightly cold fingertips.

She lowered her head and took a small sip. The water was just right—neither hot nor cold—and slid down her throat, slightly soothing her dry throat but not her wild heartbeat.

The two stood across the bar counter, neither speaking for a moment. The living room was so quiet that she could hear the faint airflow from the central air conditioning vent and the regular ticking of the antique carved pendulum clock on the far wall.

Moonlight streamed in through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a cold silver glow on the floor, blending with the dim indoor light, the boundaries blurred.

Shin Se-kyung held the glass, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing against the smooth surface. She could feel his gaze on her, not scorching, but with a strong sense of presence.

She didn't know what to say; her mind went blank. All the self-admonitions she had thought of in the bathroom—"stay calm," "be natural"—had flown out the window.

"Today..." she finally gathered her courage, looked up, and met his gaze. Her voice was very soft, but in the silent space, it was especially clear. "I really, truly thank you, President Song. For teaching me to swim, and... dinner, and... everything."

Her tone was sincere, with obvious gratitude and a hint of more complex emotions.

President Song leaned against the bar counter, his hands casually resting on the surface, looking at her. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were as calm and focused as ever. "You overcame your fear yourself," he said slowly, his voice steady. "You're very brave."

Shin Se-kyung shook her head, her long eyelashes lowering to cast a small shadow under her eyes. "No," she said, her voice even softer, with a hint of self-mockery. "It's because you were there. I've always... been very afraid of water. Not just ordinary fear—a physiological fear."

She paused, as if organizing her words or gathering courage.

President Song didn't interrupt her, just quietly watched her, waiting for her to continue.

Shin Se-kyung took a deep breath, her gaze falling on the slightly rippling water in the glass, as if the calm water could give her strength. "When I was little, about seven or eight, I went to the beach with my parents."

Her voice was very soft, as if lost in a distant memory. "I was naughty back then. While the adults weren't paying attention, I ran into the deep water to play with an inflatable dolphin. But the dolphin deflated, and I fell into the water."

As she said this, her fingers holding the glass unconsciously tightened, her knuckles turning white. "I didn't know how to swim then. I flailed desperately and swallowed a lot of water. The seawater was very salty, very harsh, filling my nose and mouth. I couldn't breathe."

"There was water all around me. I couldn't see the shore, and I couldn't grab anything. That suffocating feeling, and the endless, inescapable blue... I remember it very clearly even now."

Her voice began to tremble, but she still tried to keep it steady. "Later, a lifeguard pulled me out. Nothing serious—just swallowed water and was terrified. But after that, whenever I see water a little deeper, my legs go weak and I breathe rapidly."

"When I took this script, the director said there would be a few pool scenes. I thought... I could overcome it, right? I'm an actress. For the role, what can't I overcome?"

She looked up at President Song, her eyes slightly red, but stubbornly holding back tears. "But when I actually stood by the pool and looked at the water, that fear came back, uncontrollable. I tried practicing on my own, but as soon as I got in the water, I panicked. It was impossible."

"My manager oppa found me a coach, but I got so nervous that I couldn't learn anything and almost kicked the coach..." She gave a bitter smile. "If it weren't for you... using such a patient method, letting me start by getting used to the water, I might... never have learned."

She laid bare the deepest fear she rarely even mentioned to her family, right in front of him. After speaking, she felt a strange sense of relief, but it was followed by deeper anxiety. What would he think? That she was weak? Trouble? Or...

President Song looked at her silently. Under the dim light, her slightly reddened eyes, tightly pressed lips, and the expression that tried to stay calm but still revealed a trace of fragility—all of it was in his view. Her pajama sleeve had slipped down a bit as she raised her hand, revealing a slender wrist.

He noticed that on the inside of her left wrist, near the pulse, there was a very faint, almost invisible white line. Was that a scar from something that cut her when she drowned before?

[part:gemini-3.1-flash-lite]

He did not press her about the scar, nor did he display any look of sympathy or pity.

That would only have made her feel more humiliated.

He simply remained silent for a moment, then walked around the bar and stood before her.

He did not get too close, maintaining a distance of about one step—a polite social distance that allowed one to feel his presence without feeling overwhelmed.

He looked at her, his gaze calm and earnest, as if he were regarding a respected opponent rather than a weakling in need of reassurance.

"Shin Se-kyung." He called her name; his voice was not loud, yet it carried a power that compelled one to focus involuntarily.

"Fear is not something that will automatically disappear just because you refuse to look at it or speak of it."

Shin Se-kyung looked up at him, dazed.

"It is right there, a part of you, an imprint carved onto you by your past experiences."

Song Tianhao continued, his tone even, yet every word crystal clear.

"Denying it, avoiding it—that will only make it grow larger and more terrifying within your heart."

"You must acknowledge it, face it head-on, and then learn to coexist with it, or even... utilize it."

He paused, watching her eyes widen slightly.

"You succeeded today.

You did not run away; you entered the water, and you let yourself float.

You are moving forward while carrying that fear.

In the future, you will do even better."

"Acting is the same.

Transform this fear of water into empathy for your character's situation; it will become your weapon, not your weakness."

His words were like a key, gently unlocking a box within her heart that had long been bolted shut.

It was a dissection and affirmation that was almost cold in its directness, yet fundamentally insightful.

He affirmed her fear, and he affirmed her courage in facing it.

He did not say "don't be afraid"; he said, "move forward while carrying it."

Shin Se-kyung's nose suddenly stung, overcome by a massive sense of relief and warmth at being understood.

She blinked hard, forcing back the sudden moisture in her eyes, then nodded at him, very earnestly and solemnly.

"Yes, President.

I... I will remember that."

Song Tianhao looked at her eyes, which seemed to have brightened once more, and nodded.

He raised his hand, seemingly intending to habitually pat her shoulder to offer a bit of encouragement.

But halfway up, his hand paused in mid-air for an instant, then naturally changed direction, pointing toward the stairs leading to the guest rooms on the second floor.

"It's getting late," his tone returned to its usual calmness.

"Go to sleep.

Rest well.

If the weather is good tomorrow, we will continue our lessons."

Shin Se-kyung had clearly caught that tiny pause—the hand he had raised and then retracted.

A subtle sense of loss welled up in her heart, like being lightly tickled by a feather; it was a little itchy, and a little empty.

But immediately afterward, that sense of loss was replaced by an even stronger feeling of warmth and reassurance.

Song Tianhao had not looked down on her because of her vulnerability, nor had he taken the opportunity to make any inappropriate advances.

What he had given her was respect, understanding, mental support, and... a clear promise regarding the future.

"We will continue our lessons tomorrow."

These simple words, heard at this moment, felt like a promise, an anchor that gave her drifting heart a place to land.

"Yes."

She nodded vigorously, the corners of her mouth lifting unconsciously, revealing the first truly relaxed smile of the evening.

"You should rest early too, President.

Good night."

"Good night."

Shin Se-kyung cradled the glass of now-cooled water and turned to walk toward the stairs.

After a couple of steps, she stopped and looked back.

Song Tianhao was still standing where he was, his hands in the pockets of his loungewear, watching her quietly.

Seeing her turn back, he tilted his head slightly, asking with his eyes.

"President," Shin Se-kyung pursed her lips, her voice soft.

"For breakfast tomorrow... I'd like some porridge, if that's alright?

Plain porridge is fine."

Song Tianhao seemed surprised that she would suddenly bring this up.

He paused for a moment, and then, a faint trace of a smile appeared on his usually expressionless face—it was very subtle, yet it softened his eyes and brows significantly.

"Alright," he replied.

"Plain porridge, with some side dishes."

"Thank you, President."

Shin Se-kyung's smile deepened; this time, there was no anxiety or nervousness, only pure, relaxed joy.

She turned and walked lightly up the stairs, disappearing around the corner of the second floor.

Not until her footsteps had completely faded did Song Tianhao slowly walk to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside, the moonlight was bright, casting its glow over the silent courtyard and the shimmering pool.

He picked up his own glass of water and took a sip; the cold liquid slid down his throat, bringing a moment of clarity.

He took out his phone; the screen lit up, showing a few unread messages.

The one at the top was from Park So-yeon, a brief report on the recent commercial performances and endorsement negotiations for T-ara.

He opened it, scanned it quickly, and tapped his fingers on the screen to reply with a few key instructions.

After dealing with the work messages, he scrolled through his screen and finally stopped on the name "Shin Se-kyung" in his contacts.

He opened it; their chat history was still at their simple conversation from this afternoon, where she had asked for the address.

His thumb hovered over the input box for a few seconds, then he typed out, one word at a time:

"The way you succeeded in floating tonight, you looked cool."

There were no extra symbols, no emojis.

Just a simple sentence.

His finger hovered over the send button.

The light from the screen reflected on his expressionless face.

The living room was deathly quiet, save for the second hand of the old grandfather clock, moving at a steady, unhurried pace, emitting a rhythmic "tick, tock" sound.

Then, he pressed it.

The notification sound of the successfully sent message seemed exceptionally clear in the silence.

Song Tianhao glanced at the time displayed at the top of the screen: 1:03 AM.

He turned off the phone screen, placed it on the bar, picked up his glass, and downed the rest of the cold water in one gulp.

The icy liquid slid down his esophagus, seemingly cooling the trace of inexplicable restlessness in his heart.

He turned and walked toward the master bedroom at the other end of the first floor.

His footsteps were steady; he did not look back.

Meanwhile, in the guest room on the second floor.

Shin Se-kyung leaned back against the closed door, one hand still pressed against her chest.

Her heart was still beating rapidly, but unlike the panic and helplessness from before, it was now a warm, swelling palpitation, as if something was about to overflow.

She walked to the window and looked down at the pool in the moonlight once more.

The water was calm, reflecting the crescent moon—quiet and gentle.

"Move forward while carrying it..." She whispered, repeating his words from earlier, the arc of her mouth growing wider.

Yes, one could move forward even while carrying fear.

And, it seemed... it wasn't so scary anymore.

Just then, the phone she had casually left on the bedside table suddenly lit up, emitting a crisp "ding" notification sound.

Who could it be at this hour?

Shin Se-kyung walked over, slightly puzzled, and picked up the phone.

She unlocked the screen, and a new message popped up.

Sender: President Song.

These three simple words made her heart jump.

She opened it; there was only one sentence.

"The way you succeeded in floating tonight, you looked cool."

Shin Se-kyung held her breath instantly.

She widened her eyes, staring at the line of text, reading it over three times.

She recognized every word, and the meaning when combined was crystal clear, yet her mind felt as if it had been struck by these simple words, leaving her unable to process it for a moment.

Song Tianhao said she looked... cool tonight?

This word, usually used to describe men, felt strange when applied to her, yet it made her cheeks burn instantly—even more intensely than when he had watched her by the poolside earlier.

It was a compliment—one of affirmation, of appreciation, delivered from a unique perspective—that struck straight into her heart.

She stared at the phone screen, her fingers tightening unconsciously.

The light from the screen illuminated her suddenly crimson cheeks and her slightly widened eyes.

Then, she did something rather childish.

She pressed the phone screen tightly against her heart, as if she could hold in her heart that was about to leap out, and hide the unfamiliar joy that was threatening to overflow.

But the sound of her heartbeat remained so clear—thump, thump, thump—beating against her chest, and against the back of the phone pressed tightly against it.

She stood there for a few seconds, then slowly, slowly slid down along the edge of the bed, sitting on the soft carpet.

She buried her still-burning cheeks deep into her knees, hugging herself with her arms, her hand still tightly gripping the phone that was emitting a faint glow and displaying that message.

This night, someone was destined to lose sleep.

Outside the window, the moon had quietly moved past its zenith, silently casting its clear light over the sleeping city and into this guest room, gently enveloping the girl who had curled herself up, her heart beating like a drum.