04- My Grizzly Bear

⋘ ⁕⁕⁕ ⋙ Mia

For a week, I’d lived in the beautiful, bubble of Tae-min’s high-rise flat. I’d eaten the delivered food, watched the mindless television, slept in fits and starts, and stared at the bruises on my body as they slowly shifted from violent purples to sickly yellows and greens. Healing, but a map of the past I couldn’t erase.

Today, I’d finally cracked. The walls, no matter how safe, were starting to feel like a different kind of prison.

“I need to go out,” I’d said to Dal-mi over breakfast, my voice small but firm.

She’d looked at me over her tablet, her sharp eyes assessing. “Where?”

“I don’t know. Just… out. To see people who aren’t on a screen. To feel the sun.”

She’d hesitated for a long moment, then nodded. “Jae-won drives. You don’t wander. You check in every hour. And you carry this.” She’d slid a small, discreet panic button across the table. It looked like a chic key fob. “Press and hold if anything feels off. He’ll be there in under thirty seconds.”

So here I was. Out.

Jae-won, my “trusty shadow,” was a mountain of a man in a dark, nondescript suit that did nothing to conceal the sheer bulk of him. He had a face that looked like it had been carved from granite, then weathered by several harsh storms. He drove a black SUV that felt like a tank, and he hadn’t said more than two words since we’d left the garage: “Yes, Miss.”

I’d directed him to drive until we saw the ocean. The salt air was a cool, damp slap against my skin that felt like waking up. Now, I sat on a weathered wooden bench, the vast, grey-blue expanse of the sea stretching to the horizon. The rhythmic crash and sigh of the waves were the only sounds that mattered. And then, The tears finally found their way out.

It wasn’t a loud sob. It was a silent, relentless stream of tears that just leaked out, tracing hot paths down my cheeks before the sea breeze cooled them. I cried for the woman I’d been, the one who believed Greg’s lies about dominance and trust. I cried for the fear that was still a cold stone in my belly. I cried for the sheer, exhausting relief of being here, alive, free to feel the sun and smell the salt, even if I knew the freedom was provisional, fragile.

After a while, the tears slowed. My chest felt hollowed out but cleaner. I wiped my face with my sleeve, took a shaky breath, and walked to a nearby kiosk. I bought two ice cream cones—one vanilla, one chocolate.

I walked back and held the chocolate one out to Jae-won, who stood a respectful ten feet away, his posture rigid, his eyes perpetually scanning the sparse weekday crowd.

He looked at the cone, then at me, his expression entirely stoic.

“It’s going to melt,” I said, my voice still thick from crying.

A flicker of something—confusion, maybe—in his dark eyes. Then, slowly, he reached out and took it. “Thank you, Miss.”

I sat back down on the bench and patted the space beside me. He hesitated, a statue come to life with great reluctance, then moved to sit, his bulk making the old wood creak in protest. He held the ice cream like it was a live grenade.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, just eating. The ice cream was cheap and too sweet, but it was the best thing I’d ever tasted. It was a choice. A small, stupid, glorious choice.

I took another lick, watching the waves. “Must be fun,” I said, my tone deliberately light, “following me around like a little stalker.”

I saw it out of the corner of my eye—the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth, a valiant effort to suppress a smile. It made him look almost human.

“Miss, I am doing my job. I am to keep you safe. As per Mr. Tae’s orders.”

“I get that,” I said, turning to look at him fully. “But I don’t need a robot to protect me. You don’t have to always be so stiff. Like now. The ocean is beautiful. This ice cream is amazing. I want you to relax a bit. The tension is putting me on edge.” I offered a small, tentative smile. “When we’re like this, you can relax. When we’re on the move, by all means, go all grizzly.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, incredibly, the granite of his face softened, just a fraction. A real smile, small and fleeting, touched his lips. It transformed him completely. “Yes, Miss.”

We finished our ice creams in a companionable silence that felt, for the first time in what seemed like forever, normal. Peaceful. The sun was warm on my face, the breeze tugged at my hair, and for a few stolen minutes, I wasn’t a victim in hiding. I was just a woman at the beach with a quiet, giant friend.

Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. The new one Dal-mi had gotten me, a sleek, untraceable model. I pulled it out. Dal-mi’s name flashed on the screen.

I answered. “Hey.”

“Where are you?” Her voice was all business, but there was an undercurrent of excitement.

“At the beach. Just… sitting.”

“Good. Meet me at La Coupe Élégante on Seoroyeong Street. In an hour.”

“A salon? Dal-mi, I don’t need—”

“We are getting our hair done. My boss gave me the company card. Said we need to shop for tomorrow night’s event.” She paused, and I could almost hear the triumphant grin in her voice. “It’s his birthday party. And you, my dear, are going as his plus one.”

The world tilted. “What? Dal-mi, no, I can’t—I’m ’not—He doesn’t even know me!”

“He does now. And he insists. Consider it a strategic appearance. A show of force. Now, stop arguing. La Coupe Élégante. One hour. Don’t be late; they’re squeezing us in as a personal favor to Chairman Lee.” The call cut off before I could sputter another protest.

I sat there, the phone clutched in my hand, the taste of vanilla ice cream suddenly bitter in my mouth. Chairman Lee’s birthday party. As his plus one? It was a world away from beach benches and burner phones. It was a spotlight. A gauntlet.

I looked over at Jae-won. He had already stood up, his brief moment of relaxation gone, replaced by the alert, professional stance. He’d heard enough.

“We must go, Miss,” he said, his voice back to its gravelly rumble. He was already scanning the perimeter, his body subtly shifting to position himself between me and the parking lot.

I stood, my legs feeling wobbly. “Right. The salon.”

As we walked back to the SUV, I muttered, more to myself than to him, “He’s more terrified of Dal-mi than Tae, isn’t he?”

For the second time that day, I saw the ghost of a smile on Jae-won’s face. “By several orders of magnitude, Miss,” he confirmed, opening the car door for me. “Several orders of magnitude.”

⋘ ⁕⁕⁕ ⋙