Pray That I Dont Procrastinate I Badly Want To Finish This Story - Blog Posts

UNSPOKEN (말하지 않은)

genre: romance, slow-burn, fluff, angst, sexual tension, mutual pining

Chapter 3: Cracks in the Ice

As cracks begin to form in Haein’s carefully guarded exterior, Chaewoon remains a silent observer—watching, understanding, but never prying. Yet, the more she tries to ignore him, the more she finds herself unable to look away.

The ride back home was quiet, save for the faint hum of the engine and the occasional sound of Haein scrolling through her phone. She wasn’t really reading—just skimming through emails and messages, too drained to focus. The exhaustion of the day was settling in, yet a persistent chill crept through her despite the warmth of her coat.

She barely noticed when her fingers trembled slightly, or when she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. But Chaewoon did. Without a word, he adjusted the temperature in the car, subtly raising the heat. A few moments later, Haein realized her shivering had stopped.

Her brows furrowed. She hadn’t even realized she was cold. But he had.

Bodyguards were supposed to follow orders, react when necessary—not anticipate things she didn’t even voice out. She’d had plenty before, and not one of them had done more than the bare minimum. Chaewoon, however, seemed different.

Not that it meant anything. She still didn’t like him.

But annoyingly enough… she didn’t mind him either.

“How long have you been working for my grandfather, Mr. Woo?” Haein asked, her tone casual, eyes still fixed on her phone as she scrolled through unread messages.

Chaewoon, focused on the road, answered without hesitation. “Four months.”

“Such a short time,” she mused, tapping absentmindedly on her screen. “I guess you already gained his trust.”

Chaewoon blinked. Had he? He wasn’t sure. The chairman was a man of few words, his orders absolute yet often unexplained. One day, he was handling corporate security affairs; the next, he was reassigned to shadow his granddaughter—without warning, without justification.

Maybe it was a test. Maybe it was something else entirely.

Either way, Woo Chaewoon didn’t ask questions.

Chaewoon kept his eyes on the road, but he could feel Haein watching him now, her phone momentarily forgotten in her lap. “What did he say when he assigned you to me?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Chaewoon didn’t answer immediately. The chairman’s words echoed in his mind, but he settled on the simplest version. “To watch over you.”

Haein narrowed her eyes slightly. “That’s all?”

“Yes.” His response was clipped, unwavering.

She studied him for a moment, as if searching for cracks in his carefully maintained exterior.

“My job,” he continued, voice steady, “is to simply accompany you everywhere you go. Take orders from you, so you can use me as you please, Ms. Hong.”

Something about the way he said it made her pause. It wasn’t sarcastic, nor did it carry any hint of bitterness. It was just… factual. A declaration of duty.

Haein let out a quiet scoff, leaning back against her seat.

When they arrived at the mansion, Haein expected him to stop at the main entrance and let her go on her way. But, of course, he wouldn’t just leave her side that easily.

She reached for the door handle, but before she could open it, Chaewoon was already there, pulling it open for her. Haein stepped out, only to catch sight of his hand hovering above her head again—just like earlier, ready to shield her in case she miscalculated and hit the doorframe.

She pressed her lips together, torn between rolling her eyes and making a sarcastic remark about how she was perfectly capable of getting out of a car on her own. But exhaustion weighed heavy on her, and frankly, she didn’t have the energy for it.

Instead, she exhaled through her nose and turned toward the house. The warm glow from the entrance lights stretched across the driveway, casting long shadows as she made her way inside.

Of course, she wasn’t alone. The soft, steady footsteps behind her confirmed what she already knew—Chaewoon was following her.

I guess he’s going to follow me all the way to my room, she thought, resisting the urge to sigh.

Maybe she should slam the door in his face just to see if he’d stop.

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Chaewoon noticed the way her lips pressed together when he opened the car door. She wanted to say something—he could tell—but chose not to. Instead, she stepped out without a word, her movements slower than usual, her usual sharp posture softened by exhaustion. Even her commanding presence had dimmed, replaced by something quieter, almost weary.

He followed her in silence, his gaze subtly tracking the way she moved. Her steps were unhurried, almost aimless, yet she didn’t head for the main entrance. Instead, she veered toward the garden, taking the longer route despite her obvious fatigue.

Did she always take this way, even when she was this drained? Or was she heading somewhere else?

Chaewoon half-expected her to turn around and demand why he was still following her, maybe throw in a sharp remark about personal space. But she didn’t.

Something about the slow drag of her steps, the slight slump in her shoulders—it wasn’t just exhaustion. There was something else weighing her down. And for once, she didn’t seem to mind his presence.

Haein stopped abruptly, her gaze locked onto something in the garden. Chaewoon followed her line of sight and saw them—her parents, standing amidst the dimly lit hedges, deep in conversation.

His eyes flickered back to Haein, watching as her expression darkened. Whatever she was hearing, it wasn’t something she wanted to.

“Honey, don’t be so harsh on Haein,” her father’s voice carried softly through the night air. “How long will you let the past haunt you? You should let go and move on.”

There was a sharp pause before her mother responded, her tone colder, edged with something unresolved. “That’s what your father said back then.” A bitter chuckle. “Your father didn’t want any issues, so you obliged. I still don’t understand why Suwan had to die.”

At that name, Haein visibly tensed. The fatigue that had weighed her down moments ago disappeared, replaced by a rigid stillness. Her fingers twitched before curling into fists at her sides, and her eyes, already heavy with exhaustion, now reflected something far deeper.

“It was just an accident,” her father said, his voice softer now. “No one is to blame.”

“You’re right,” her mother murmured. “It’s no one’s fault. But Suwan is gone. And I’m still in pain every single day.”

Chaewoon barely had time to process the shift in Haein before she turned on her heel and walked away, her steps quick, almost urgent. He caught a glimpse of her face—her lips pressed tightly together, eyes misted but defiant. She didn’t want to hear more.

Without a word, he followed.

Suwan. Hong Suwan.

Chaewoon recognized the name instantly. It was in one of the files he had read about the Hong family—the Chairman’s eldest grandson, Haein’s older brother. He had died in an accident, a tragedy that cast a long shadow over the family.

The reports were clinical, filled with dates and facts, but standing here, seeing the way Haein’s entire body stiffened at the mention of his name, he realized how little those words truly conveyed.

He recalled one particular detail: Haein had been in the accident too. The only one who survived.

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When they reached her door, Haein didn’t spare him a glance. She stepped inside without hesitation, the door shutting behind her. Maybe he shouldn’t have followed her all the way here. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to see something so unguarded.

But as he stood there in the empty hallway, Chaewoon couldn’t shake the memories of the countless family dinners he had witnessed from a quiet corner of the Hong estate. The family gathered every night, and as the Chairman’s bodyguard, he had been present more than once.

The Chairman rarely attended, but when he did, Chaewoon would stand by his side, silently observing. And each time, his gaze would inevitably land on one family member who always seemed more like a heavy shadow than a presence—Hong Haein.

She barely spoke. She would eat in silence, her expression unreadable, and when she left the table, no one even seemed to notice. It was as if she existed on the fringes of her own family, a stranger in a house that was supposed to be her home.

She was known as the Ice Queen of the great Hong family—sharp-tongued, short-tempered, cold, and untouchable. Whenever she entered a room, it was like a sudden drop in temperature, her presence commanding yet unapproachable, as if daring anyone to stand in her way.

She seemed larger than life, a force to be reckoned with. And yet, inside her own home, she looked so small. Almost as if she might disappear at any moment, swallowed by the very walls that should have made her feel safe.

Did the Chairman notice this about his own granddaughter too?

A part of him hoped he did. Hoped that, perhaps, this was the reason he was assigned to her—not just to protect her, but because someone, somewhere, still cared enough to try.

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The next morning, as Haein stepped out of her room, she found Chaewoon already waiting outside.

Dressed in a navy-blue suit, her hair flawlessly styled, and her heels clicking against the marble floor, she looked every bit the woman the world knew her to be—cold, sharp, and untouchable. Watching her now, Chaewoon couldn’t help but wonder if this was the same Haein he had seen last night—the one with heavy shoulders and misty eyes.

Just as Haein was about to step out the front door, her mother’s voice cut through the vast hall.

“You missed dinner last night.”

From the words alone, it should have sounded like a mother concerned about her daughter skipping a meal. But it wasn’t. The tone was too sharp, too pointed—more accusation than worry.

Haein halted for a brief moment before turning to face her. “I got a bit busy last night. I apologize.” Her voice was even, controlled.

“The least you could do is inform us,” her mother replied, eyes cold with disapproval. “You’re really starting to lose respect just because your grandfather favors you.” Her gaze flickered toward Chaewoon. “Giving you your own bodyguard and everything… don’t start feeling too special.”

Haein sighed.

“Your younger brother should be the one getting special treatment. Is your grandfather not aware of how vulnerable he is?” her mother said, voice laced with disapproval.

“If you want a bodyguard, then take him,” Haein replied flatly. “You’re right—your son needs him more than I do.”

“Don’t give me that attitude, Haein.”

She glanced at her wristwatch. “As you can see, I’m already running late. I’ll inform you next time if I can’t attend dinner. And if Soocheol truly needs protection, inform Grandfather yourself to have Mr. Woo reassigned.”

With a single nod, she turned on her heel and walked out, not giving her mother the chance to argue further.

Chaewoon, who had been standing a few steps behind her, followed without a word. He had no place in their argument, but he had observed everything—the tension in Haein’s shoulders, the way her mother’s words cut deeper than she let on. He saw the flicker of emotion in her eyes before she masked it again, slipping seamlessly back into the persona of Hong Haein, the untouchable executive.

As they reached the car, he opened the door for her. She slid inside without so much as a glance. The drive to the office was quiet, just like the night before. But unlike then, when she had been drained, today she carried a different kind of exhaustion. One that settled deeper, heavier.

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The day unfolded like every other—structured, demanding, and relentless. Haein moved through it with practiced ease, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floors.

Meetings filled her schedule, each one blending into the next discussions with high-profile clients, department evaluations, strategy briefings. She skimmed through reports with sharp eyes, making swift decisions, approving proposals, and dissecting financial forecasts with an air of unwavering confidence.

To everyone around her, she was the same Hong Haein—cold, calculating, and in complete control. But beneath the surface, she could still hear the echo of her mother’s voice from that morning, still feel the weight of an unspoken history pressing against her chest.

Chaewoon remained in the background, silent but ever-present. He noticed the way her fingers curled slightly tighter around her pen during certain conversations, the way she rolled her shoulders in between meetings, as if trying to shake off an invisible weight. He followed her through the day, standing just close enough to protect, just far enough not to intrude.

And yet, for someone who claimed she didn’t need him, she never once told him to leave.

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Haein should be bothered by how much Chaewoon was seeing—the cracks beneath her carefully crafted exterior. He had overheard her parents the night before, witnessed the sharp exchange with her mother this morning. These were the moments she despised the most—when the perfect image she upheld slipped, revealing something raw and unguarded. She hated being seen like that. She hated the idea of someone perceiving her as helpless. More than anything, she hated pitiful eyes.

But Chaewoon didn’t look at her like that.

She had been observing him, too. He was frustratingly good at his job, always a step ahead, always more alert than necessary. But what stood out more was his reaction—last night, this morning. No sympathy. No awkward attempts to comfort her. No hushed, careful tone people used when they thought she was too fragile to handle the truth.

He was simply… there.

Silent. Watchful. Unshaken.

It should have irritated her. Maybe it still did. But strangely, his presence wasn’t as suffocating as it should have been. It no longer set her on edge the way it did when he first arrived. And that was what unsettled her the most.

She was used to reading people. She was used to knowing exactly what their motives were. But with Woo Chaewoon, she wasn’t sure. She was wondering maybe he was just too unreadable.

But she could feel it. And most of the time, her gut feeling never betrayed her.

She glanced up from her paperwork, barely registering the voices of the executives droning on around her. Outside the glass walls of the meeting room, he stood—silent, watchful, unwavering.

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary, trying to decipher him.

Just who are you really, Woo Chaewoon?

Just as she was about to look away, his gaze met hers. Neither of them looked away.

Chaewoon tilted his head slightly, a silent question in his eyes: Do you need something?

Haein blinked, then casually averted her gaze, shifting her attention back to the meeting as if nothing happened.

But Chaewoon caught it—the slight hesitation, the flicker of something unreadable in her expression.

For the first time, Hong Haein was flustered.

< Chapter 2 Chapter 4 >

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a little progress between our leads >< I apologize early if it's too slow or boring asdhjdsldejf next chapters will be more heart fluttering I promise I'm planning on uploading chapter 4 and 5 by today or tomorrow

that said, to the few readers from my twitter account and here on tumblr, I really appreciate you so much!! thank you for leaving a like, reblogging/retweeting, and leaving comments! it motivates me more to not procrastinate and leave this story hanging just like what I did from my past works🥲

also!! please let me know if anyone else wants to be included in the taglist ><

thank you again for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts too ><

taglist: @lvnat1c <3