MERRY 3

Ethan just stared at me without a hint of agitation. His straight, unwavering gaze only served to annoy me. It was absurd. Until he offered a polite apology and received my forgiveness, he had no right to act as dignified as a man who had done nothing wrong. Ethan Reed and I were not on terms to be exchanging pleasant greetings, and he was the one who had made things that way.

Does he not realize that the fact I remember him—the fact I couldn’t delete the memories of him—humiliates me? Does he truly not know the sense of disgrace and contempt I feel?

“I’d rather starve to death than sit across from you at a dinner table.”

Unable to overcome the lashing irritation inside me, I spat those words out. If he had shown even a flicker of pain at being scratched by my words, I might have entertained the idea of having dinner with him just once. But Ethan only shrugged. Bastard. I had walked past him toward my parked car then. I thought I had put a period on that chapter by leaving the scene first.

“Quinn. Is there something outside?”

Connelly’s question pulled me back to reality. I made up an excuse, saying it was nothing, while casting another glance out the window.

A sleek black sedan was parked on the opposite side of the road. It was the car that had been tailing me for nearly three weeks; Ethan Reed was surely inside.

No matter how much I thought about it, the situation was far beyond the realm of understanding. For someone who had disappeared like a champion hide-and-seek player and couldn’t be found anywhere, what was the reason for suddenly appearing and following me around like this? What on earth was happening to me?

“Ah…”

I finally let out a groan and furrowed my brow. I hope you get a flat tire. While pouring curses on him internally, I spoke with a cynical edge.

“There are a lot of crazy people in the world. They might look normal, but they could be lunatics, so you have to screen them carefully.”

Connelly, unable to find any context in my advice, tilted her head and looked at the people following behind her.

“You aren’t confessing that you’re one of those people, are you, Quinn?”

“Of course not, but even if I were, I wouldn’t admit it easily, so you shouldn’t let your guard down.”

I thought of Ethan’s beautiful face. He didn’t look like the type of guy who would do something as pathetic as stalking. Rather, he looked more suited for the role of someone who executes those dark, malicious creeps by the grace of God.

“Angel…”

“Pardon?”

“Did I say something?”

“You said ‘angel’.”

“No way. There’s no way I did.”

There was no way I would compare Ethan Reed to an angel. No matter how unconscious it was, that was impossible.

“Anyway, Quinn’s advice makes sense. You can never let your guard down, especially in a heartless place like New York.”

People laughed bitterly at Connelly’s pointed remark. The expression on Dixon, who had recently been chatting about looking for a rental, was dramatically vivid. In a city where people would cut your nose off the moment you blink, you certainly shouldn’t relax. Reminding myself like a lesson that while there’s no one to trust, there are plenty of crazies, I moved my feet.

After touring the exhibition hall, I finished the schedule with a brief meeting. Declining an invitation to have dinner together with a promise for next time, I tucked my tablet into my bag. Dixon, catching a glimpse of my bag, shook his head in awe.

“That’s definitely the real deal, right? Do models get a discount? Or do you get bags as wages?”

“Well, it depends on the situation and the person, but I bought this with my own money.”

It wasn’t a bluff to show off my status; it was the truth. Since the designer of that brand had shown interest in me since we were preparing for the show, he would have gladly given me a bag if I’d asked, but I didn’t even bring it up for fear he’d use it as an excuse to hit on me. I even bought it under my manager’s name just to prevent him from trying to get too personal.

I am a person with loose sexual values—to the point where I consider sex the most straightforward and convenient form of communication—but I am quite picky about my bed partners.

I have two conditions. First, the appearance must obviously be my type, and second, the relationship developed through sex must not exceed friendship. In other words, if they don’t meet my aesthetic standards or if the other person wants a “special” relationship, they’re out.

If you get tied up in emotions, you only get betrayed. That’s an experience better left unhad. One of the teachers at the private school I attended used to say this:

“Scars become the foundation for growth, so do not fear frustration. It doesn’t matter if you fall, and it’s okay if you hit something and break. It gives you the driving force to move forward.”

At the time, it sounded plausible, but looking back now that time has passed, I cannot accept his teaching. Foundation for growth, my ass. He clearly didn’t know what the word “driving force” meant.

A scar is just a scar. It’s painful, it’s infuriating, and it’s desperately cold.

“I’ll be going first. See you next time.”

I shook off my thoughts and left the exhibition hall. As I turned around, pulling out my car keys, the window of the car parked across the street rolled down slightly as if it had been waiting. It was exasperating how he seemed to want me to know he was there. What kind of stalker acts like that? He doesn’t even make a pretense of following me in secret.

Stalker You’re going home, right?

He even went so far as to strike up a conversation via message. When I ignored him coldly and walked on, Ethan’s car followed slowly behind me.

“What are you having for dinner?”

The voice flowing through the gap in the window was excessively sweet, which made me annoyed all over again.

Usually, aren’t stalkers supposed to be gloomy, creepy guys? If he were a man with a metallic rasp in his voice, dark circles under his eyes, an overly oily face, and bloody, bitten lips, I’d be disgusted just being near him. Unfortunately, Ethan Reed was a man who completely defied that image—someone you couldn’t believe was doing something like this.

“Somerset.”

“…”

“The dinner menu.”

“I’m not eating with you anyway, so what do you care?”

I reluctantly stopped and turned my gaze to Ethan. Having parked the car that was following me like a shadow by the curb, Ethan got out. When I saw him in front of my house this morning, he was wearing a light black jacket, but now he was wearing a dark gray jumper. Even though it looked a size too big, as if it belonged to someone else, it suited him well, which made me irritable.

“Knowledge is power.”

“In that case, I have even less intention of answering. I’d like you to be very weak.”

Ethan let out a short laugh, seemingly not feeling the slightest impact from my cold reaction. By the time his slightly curled-up left corner of the mouth returned to its place, I looked away and started walking again.

The neighborhood, lined with a road that wasn’t too wide, was neatly kept. The moderate noise and relaxed atmosphere calmed my aggressive stride. I relaxed the force in my feet that had been thudding against the ground and glanced sideways.

Ethan was following me with his hands shoved in his jumper pockets. When my legs slowed, his legs slowed; when I looked like I was about to stop, he hesitated; and when I walked faster, he picked up his pace too.

Normally, when someone awkwardly mimics another person’s movements, it looks pathetic, but Ethan was the exception. Even if I fell and he mimicked that, he wouldn’t lose his cool. He was still so stunning from head to toe that it was truly disgusting.

The Ethan Reed who had once been distorted by intentional bias in my memory was being set straight by becoming a living, breathing presence by my side once more. Although, just like when we reunited, it still didn’t feel quite real.

Attempts to stubbornly deny his existence in reality still flare up within me constantly. Even now, I can feel myself fiercely protesting against accepting this man named Ethan Reed.

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Than to follow me around?”

“Following you is my job.”

I kept my gaze fixed forward, careful not to look at him.

“Aren’t you working a bit too hard? If someone saw you, they’d think I was your whole world. Like I’m your entire universe. Following me so burdensomely… you never lose sight of me. They’d think I’m the only thing you see. People might misunderstand…”

“Tailing you is too easy when you drive a car like that.”

My car came into view along with the brownstone buildings and the street trees. An old, grass-colored sedan. My first car, a gift from my mom to celebrate getting my license, which I have enjoyed driving ever since.