Chapter 52: The Third Wish is a Secret

The kitchen pendant light dissolved into a hazy moon in the steam.
Lee Sung-kyung stood with her back to the living room in front of the stove, her black athletic tank top outlining the contours of her butterfly shoulder blades through a sheen of sweat.
The exact moment Kang Jae-hoon pushed open the entryway door, the bubbling sound of the seaweed soup drifted out from the kitchen.

"I thought you'd be busy until the middle of the night today."
As he changed his shoes, he caught a glimpse of the ponytail swaying slightly inside the kitchen's glass door.
"Isn't there an After Party on the last day of Seoul Fashion Week?"
"The brand changed their schedule."
She didn't even blink as she lied.
"Oh... Seaweed soup?"
His nostrils flared and twitched like a drug-sniffing dog as he shuffled into the kitchen.
"Leftovers from supermarket tastings."
"Can a tasting yield sliced abalone?"
Kang Jae-hoon pointed at the golden folds floating on the surface of the soup.
"The supermarket Sung-kyung went to couldn't possibly be called Lotte Department Store's VVVIP Exclusive, could it?"
Lee Sung-kyung turned around and shot him a glare.
"The clerk took pity on me and gave me two extra slices. Got a problem with that?"
Kang Jae-hoon suddenly broke into a wide grin.
"I do have a problem—"
Lee Sung-kyung's hand, gripping the ladle, paused mid-air.
"If you have a death wish, just say it."
"I should say it's because Sung-kyung is so pretty that they gave her two extra slices."
"...Kang Jae-hoon, has the swelling on the back of your head turned into thick-skinned shamelessness?"
She turned, retrieved the spare abalones from the refrigerator, and dumped them all into the pot.
"Get out, don't disturb me."
"Oh..."

Lee Sung-kyung stared at her reflection shimmering on the surface of the soup. The moon outside the window had drifted right to the top of the range hood, brightly illuminating the trace of a smile she had failed to hide at the corner of her lips.
Kang Jae-hoon retreated from the kitchen, his gaze suddenly glued to a dark green paper bag resting on the sofa.
"Sung-kyung-ah—"
Holding the paper bag, he walked to the kitchen doorway and shook it. "Is this my birthday present?"
"End-of-season clearance item."
"Huh?"
Kang Jae-hoon looked at the brand logo on the bag and scratched his head.
"Jardin des Plumes, 2014 SS. Isn't this clearly the new collection from Fashion Week a few days ago?"
"In the modeling world, today's runway show is tomorrow's out-of-season. Any problem?"
"...No problem."
Kang Jae-hoon carried the paper bag back into his room, the rustling sound of changing clothes mixing with the soft clink of a belt's metal buckle. Lee Sung-kyung unconsciously softened the force with which she stirred the seaweed soup, her ears capturing the movement next door—
"Sung-kyung-ah, these clothes were custom-made to my measurements, right?" he shouted through the door. "Even the pants length feels tailor-made!"
"Selected based on the average build of a convenience store cashier."
Her hand trembled slightly as she sprinkled salt into the soup, her lies flowing as smoothly as moving clouds.
The sound of a door pushing open echoed.
Lee Sung-kyung's peripheral vision shifted by fifteen degrees as if pulled by a magnet.

An off-white linen linen shirt enveloped Kang Jae-hoon's inverted-triangle shoulders and back, the luster like molten sunset flowing along the contours of his muscles.
Cropped dress pants cut sharp, clean creases, revealing a strip of sun-kissed, wheat-colored ankles, looking as wild and indolent as a Greek shipping magnate just stepping off a yacht deck in the Aegean Sea.
—A hundred times more pleasing to the eye than the sickly pale, beanpole male models she shared the runway with.
"How does it look?" Kang Jae-hoon spun around.
"Mediocre." She lowered her gaze to scoop up the abalone slices. "Slightly better than the garbage bag style you usually wear."
He struck Hwang Jung-min's award-winning waist-akimbo pose in front of the entryway mirror.
"I want to wear this to the press conference for *The Heirs*."
"Do whatever you want."
Lee Sung-kyung scooped the seaweed soup, her peripheral vision tracing his silhouette gilded by the light.
This outfit should be paired with a Cuban link chain, or perhaps...
Kang Jae-hoon adjusted his cufflinks in the entryway mirror, completely unaware of the furtive glances the person behind him was casting. The light and moonlight wove a starry net across his shoulders, and even the unheeded bump on the back of his head became as endearingly cute as a medal.
"If I wear this to the press conference..."
He suddenly turned his head, crashing right into Lee Sung-kyung's gaze before she had time to pull it back.
"...Would it be too casual?"
"It's still more pleasing to the eye than you cross-dressing as a noble matron in *Macbeth*."
"As long as Sung-kyung thinks it looks good."
He grinned and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. "I'll wear it just like this the day after tomorrow!"
"Do whatever you want."

Kang Jae-hoon went back to his room to change into his elephant-print beach shorts, stuffing the linen shirt and cropped trousers into the washing machine.
"Sung-kyung, this fabric has to be hand-washed in cold water, right?"
"The washing machine has a delicate cycle."
Lee Sung-kyung's voice came through, mixed with the clatter of dishes. "Don't treat it like you're worshiping a Buddha."
"Oh."
Kang Jae-hoon suddenly spun around and snatched the oven mitts. "I'll carry it!"
"Careful not to drop the bowl—"
Before she could finish, Kang Jae-hoon was already shuffling forward holding the earthenware pot of crab. "Make way, make way! A weapon of mass destruction is coming through!"
Lee Sung-kyung rolled her eyes and stepped aside, watching him treat the soup pot like a bomb disposal technician as he offered it up to the center of the coffee table.
The strawberry cream cake came out of the refrigerator with a layer of frost on it, a crooked number candle [24] stuck into the top.
"Make a wish." She flicked her lighter.
Kang Jae-hoon sat cross-legged in a lotus position, staring at the flickering candlelight and suddenly grinning.
"Sung-kyung-ah, I sang you a birthday congratulatory song last month!"
"So?"
"Tit for tat!"
Lee Sung-kyung ultimately surrendered to the puppy-dog eyes constantly emitting rays from the person across from her—
"Wishing you~ a happy~ birthday~"

A synthesized-sounding congratulatory song squeezed through the gap in her lips, every syllable as flat and waveless as if it had been pressed with an iron.
"Put some emotion into it!"
"…Happy birthday, Jae-hoon."
"And the rest?"
"Snap!"
The flame from the lighter scorched a wisp of air, and Lee Sung-kyung used her gaze to burn the remaining three lines of the song into ashes.
Kang Jae-hoon instantly cowered and closed his eyes, thin beads of sweat seeping from his pressed palms.
The candlelight danced upon his trembling eyelashes, and Lee Sung-kyung's phone camera quietly shifted—
"First wish, I hope the viewership ratings for *The Heirs* break 30%!"
"Greedy."
"Second wish, I hope Teacher Hwang Jung-min doesn't make me cross-dress anymore..."
"Boring."
"Third—"
"Don't say the third one out loud!"
She quickly locked her screen. "It'll lose its magic."
"Eh? Didn't you say the first two were just polite formalities and the third one was the real—"
"Eat your cake."
"Sung-kyung, you eat first!"
Kang Jae-hoon cut a piece of cake heavily laden with strawberries and handed it over.
"...Childish."
As she bit into the tip of a strawberry, a coughing sound suddenly came from across the table.
"Too salty?"
Lee Sung-kyung suddenly remembered that when she was adding salt, her hand had shaken and she'd poured a bit too much because she was distracted by Kang Jae-hoon coming out in his new outfit.
"Salty and savory is the very soul of seaweed soup."
"...Idiot."
Lee Sung-kyung quietly got up, carried the entire pot of soup back to the kitchen, and remade it.
Kang Jae-hoon followed her into the kitchen with a cake fork in his mouth, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Lee Sung-kyung re-season the dish.
"Sung-kyung-ah, shouldn't you put a label on the salt shaker that says [Prohibited When Hands Shake]?"
"It would suit your forehead better."
She scooped up a spoonful of clear soup and blew on it to cool. "Taste this."
Kang Jae-hoon leaned in and took a sip straight from her hand. As his Adam's apple bobbed, he gave her a thumbs-up.
"Perfect! Michelin three-star level!"
"Take it out."
...
As the moonlight spilled across the windowsill, Lee Sung-kyung leaned against the head of her bed, flipping through her photo album.
In the latest photo, the watermark [2013.09.12] blinked next to Kang Jae-hoon's profile, softened by the candlelight.
And Kang Jae-hoon's unvoiced third wish drifted into the night sky of Seoul along with the smoke from the candle—
[I hope Sung-kyung can break the habit of saying the opposite of what she really means, like admitting that this shirt was something she had custom-made by a designer in advance.]