"Are you allergic to anything?" she asks, scanning the meat section for good parts. "Chicken?"

"Nope," he replies, leaning on the cart he'd been pushing and rubbing his temples. "No allergies."

"Oh, that's good!" she says cheerfully, picking out a whole chicken and depositing it into the cart before turning to him with a concerned frown. "You know, you can wait for me in your car. I won't mind."

He looks at her in shock. "What kind of man would I be to let you carry around everything and cook dinner by yourself?"

"If it bothers you that much, you can always help me later," she suggests, pouting her lips slightly up at him. He never could resist her aegyo.

"I really don't know how to cook," he says flatly. "Baek Ah's been trying and failing to teach me for years. I've no interest in that department, so stop giving me that look because it won't work." He turns resolutely away and rubs the spot between his eyes.

"Oh, alright," she grumbles, turning away. "Then let's go grab some vegetables. And eggs. And spices. Oh, and herbs! I wonder if they sell fresh organic herbs here..." she mutters thoughtfully. "We didn't have pesticides in Goryeo. Those things aren't good for the body at all..."

"I have no idea," he replies at once the moment she turns to face him.

"But I haven't said anything yet," she says, baffled.

"You were going to ask me where the fresh herbs could be," he hazards. "And I have no idea."

She tuts impatiently at him and walks away.

"Yah! It's not like I go shopping for food every week," he cries defensively. "Why don't you ask me something useful like where the liquor is?"

She shakes her head. "No. Alcohol will make the vessels in your head inflame and you'll feel worse," she points out matter-of-factly.

He sighs and goes back to rubbing his temples. Just hearing the word "inflame" was enough to get it throbbing again.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," she says playfully, waltzing up to him. "Now stay put. I'll go look around."

"You want me to just stand here in the middle of nowhere for an indefinite amount of time?" he asks.

She nods imperiously. "That's right. Or you can go sit in your car and wait for me there."

"I'll stand."

Back in his place an hour later, Hajin rummages through his kitchen to find the things she needs. "How can you not cook when you have everything you need right here?" she demands, plonking a perfectly good, unused pot onto the counter with a bang. She flinches when he does. "Sorry, it's heavier than I thought it would be," she grimaces, moving around with extra care this time. His headache's only gotten worse in the past hour, leaving him with his head in his hands, his elbows propped tiredly on the counter.

She hands him a glass of water and hoists herself onto the table beside him. "You should go sleep. I'll be fine. I'll wake you when I'm done."

"I'm fine," he says, ignoring the glass and instead pulling her easily over until she's directly in front of him so he can lean his forehead on her knees.

"No, you're not," she insists, running her fingers through his hair. "Why are you so stressed anyway? Have you had any sleep at all the past few days?"

"Nope," he mutters. "Work."

"What's with work?" she probes. "Is there a problem or something?"

"Mhm," he mumbles. "Big problem."

She hesitates, wondering if she should pry. If he had wanted to tell her, he would have done so already... but seeing as he hasn't... she decides to try a different tack. "I suppose having me around isn't helping much either," she says sheepishly.

"Not when you're banging heavy objects around the place."

"That was an accident!" she expostulates, before remembering that he isn't feeling well and is therefore not in a position to defend himself against verbal tirade. She sighs. "If you needed sleep, you could have said so, you know. I wouldn't have minded spending the day at home... especially now that I know you're not feeling well. I'll cook for you and then let you sleep, ok-"

"I'm fine," he says firmly, getting up so suddenly, she gasps in surprise. His face is so close to hers, she starts to heat up. "You are never a problem. You," he stresses, "are the only part of my life that's keeping me sane right now. If I could, I'd tie you up and keep you in here forever." He smiles at the stunned look on her face and closes her mouth for her before taking the glass of water. "I'll go change. Do you want another one of my shirts?"

She blinks and finally recovers herself. "I'll be fine. I'm fine," she shakes her head and hops off the table, feeling disconcerted. "I'll just... get on with it."

He grins and leaves her to her own devices. Truth be told, he feels terrible. There are too many things going on in his life at the moment; he feels overwhelmed and exhausted beyond his wits. But he doesn't want her to leave, and he doesn't want her to feel like a burden either just by being here, so he decides he's going to endure the pain and bring her home afterwards. Once she's safely home, he'll think about resting.

He spends a good ten minutes in the shower, just letting the cold water flow over him, dulling the ache in his temples. Wook had said they'd be ready by Sunday... for some reason, he and his family had been invited to his mother's party, which tells him she's not planning on hosting just some random family dinner like usual.

He frowns and shakes his head to clear it of any thoughts save Haesoo. He blinks. Not Haesoo, Hajin. He smirks. Despite being in this time and seeing her dress and act like a modern woman, he still hasn't gotten used to thinking of her as one. He's so used to calling her Soo that calling her any other name just seemed strange. He shuts the water and proceeds to dry and dress himself before rejoining her. A few feet from the kitchen door, he stops to watch her work. She's molding a clump of rice between her hands, a small smile on her lips and her tongue in between her teeth. She plucks a strip of seaweed off a platter and sets it carefully. Once done, she holds her work at arm's length, eyeing it critically. She smiles a satisfied smile and happily positions it on a plate. There goes one rice ball. He smiles and walks in.

Hajin glances up from the rice ball she had just made to see him entering. He's looking significantly better, with his dark hair wet and plastered untidily across his forehead and temples, a towel draped across his shoulders over a plain black shirt, and as he takes a seat beside her, she sees that his eyes look less tired, more alert than they had been just minutes ago.

"Welcome back," she says, turning the plate discreetly around so he won't see the face she's made on the rice ball. "I infused some herbs into the rice to build up your immune system, so you had better eat a lot of it."

"Hmm. That depends. Is it nasty?"

She glares at him. "Would I feed you anything nasty?"

"You might," he chuckles at the dark look she's giving him. "Thank you," he says sincerely.

She smiles brightly. "You're welcome."

"So what do you need?" he asks, glancing around.

She lifts an eyebrow imperiously. "I thought you weren't interested in cooking." She scoops up another dollop of lukewarm rice and proceeds to mold it carefully into another tiny rice ball. Her hands are so small that they're the best she can do. She'd also fried some eggs and meat while waiting for the rice to cook earlier, and the chicken has been slowly boiling in a pot on the stove, beside a kettle with hot water for tea.

"I'm not. But then you gave me that look," he says it almost accusingly.

"Look?" she asks blankly. "Ah! You mean at the grocery?" Intrigued, she finds herself laughing heartily at the memory. She knew that look was effective on him; she had no idea it would bring him back to life long enough to help her cook dinner.

Her laughter is contagious and enough to make him smile, despite his indignation. "Yah, it's not funny! I need to be able to say no to you once in a while!"

"I don't know about that. It works out pretty well from my point of view," she teases with a roguish smile.

He grins and kisses her lightly on the cheek. He doesn't know how he's managed to survive this long without her... the day she died was the day he stopped looking for love and happiness. Everything lost its color and meaning then - nothing felt right, nothing anyone said could make him laugh - everything paled in comparison to her iridescence. For years, he kept trying to do right by her by being a good and just king, but nothing he did ever felt enough. Until he met Seol.

Even in death, Haesoo had managed to save him from a lifetime of loneliness and anguish.

Trying not to let any of the depressing thoughts show on his face, he pulls away and sees her blushing, but instead of shying away, she drops the rice ball she'd been working on and wraps her arms loosely around his neck, demanding for more. He's more than happy to oblige. Cradling her in his arms, he can't help but smile, knowing she was probably still driven by that kiss he gave her earlier at the park. Maybe he should have offered to have a cold shower together.

There's a sudden sharp whistling sound from the stove and she swivels her head around to face it. "For the tea," she explains with a grin, turning back to her rice ball. "Since you so generously offered... please put out the fire and bring the hot water over."

"You know there's a water heater by the fridge?"

She rolls her eyes. "Who's making the tea here? For all you know, it's those water heaters that have been making your tea taste bad!"

He decides not to argue with the master and places the hot kettle on a coaster in front of her.

"Also, those vegetables have been soaking long enough," she points to a mixing bowl by the sink. "Can you slice them up for the salad, please?" she gives him another one of her cute faces.

He hangs his towel on the back of a chair and takes the vegetables out of the water. Then he rummages through the cabinet for the chopping board.

"For the carrots, please julienne them. I don't want them in big chunks," she requests. "You do know what julienne is...?"

"Shakespeare?" he kids.

"Sha- not Juliet!" she laughs. "Julienne! /n/!"

"I know, I know," he grins. "I may not have gotten the gist of actual cooking, but I think I'm at least smart enough to remember all those complicated terms. And I do know how to handle a knife, thank you very much."

"I definitely hope so," she mumbles seriously.

"Yah, don't you trust me even just a bit?" he asks, slightly offended.

She smiles impishly up at him. "You know I trust you with my life. But do you trust me?"

"I'm positive you know the answer to that already."

"Then... can I ask you a few questions?"

"Shoot," he says, eyeing her curiously.

She clears her throat and straightens up. "Baek Ah. What did Eun mean by 'Baek Ah's past'? Is his life... as bad as Won's?"

"Ah," he nods. He did promise her answers earlier. Weighing the knife in his hand, he chooses his words carefully. "It's nothing particularly bad - Eunnie just likes to exaggerate sometimes - at least, Baek Ah himself hasn't done anything wrong." He brings down the knife on the cucumber and slices it neatly into halves. "His mother bailed on an arranged marriage to someone important on her wedding day. She ran off with uncle right in the middle of the ceremony. I don't know who the important person is, I'm not interested in gossip," he adds just in case she was thinking of asking. She sighs and plucks another strip of seaweed off the platter to complete the scar on her second rice ball.

"Anyway," he continues, "obviously, it was a huge scandal. It negatively affected the company image. Our grandfather disowned her and we never even met Baek Ah until years after the old man died about ten years ago. Baek Ah was just a student when his mother brought him to our place to speak with my father. She begged for him to be allowed to work with us. Her inheritance had been scrapped, but she hoped he might be able to make something of himself in the company."

"Eun says you helped him," Hajin remembers, glancing up at him.

He smiles. "I saw his work, and he seemed like a good kid. I told my father I'd watch out for him for a few months, to determine whether or not he'd be useful to us. Well, he turned out to be very useful. He's smart, honest, intuitive, creative, hardworking, discreet and kindhearted. Much like he used to be in Goryeo."

She nods, smiling. "I'm glad the story has a happy ending."

"Far from it. But it's getting there."

"Okay, so I can relax about Baek Ah... can I ask another question?"

"You just did."

She growls her annoyance, which makes him chuckle. She doesn't look threatening at all... much more like a puppy whose bone has just been confiscated. "Yes, yes, you may," he says, amused by this image of her. A particularly fluffy white puppy with big round eyes. Maybe that's why he had been so drawn to her in the past. "What is it?"

"Jung mentioned... your parents are divorced?" she ventures hesitantly.

"Oh, that. Yes, they are," he replies easily, then stops to think. "It's been... 3 years? Give or take."

"Oh," she murmurs, poking at her rice ball. "Why?"

He grunts, seemingly unconcerned. "Their's was an arranged marriage, too. My father had to give up another woman for her. The moment grandfather died, he immediately went searching for his old girlfriend. He found her after a few years. I think you know who she is."

She gasps and almost drops her little Wang So ball. "No! Y-you... you mean...?"

"In this time, she's Mu-hyung's mother," he adds, finding this knowledge strange now that he remembers their past lives. "You can imagine how my mother reacted."

"How did she react?" she asks, feeling incredibly curious by now. "Does your mother treat you the same way now as she used to?"

"No," he replies, shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably. "The opposite, actually. It's Yo-hyung she's currently disappointed in. Strange, isn't it?"

"Very strange," Hajin agrees, trying to process this piece of information. "So how did your mother react? And what of King Yo- er... your brother?"

"One question at a time," he laughs. She sees him unconsciously massage his already-aching temple and immediately feels guilty. Putting her finished rice ball carefully on the plate beside the rest, she proceeds to make another one and waits patiently for him to get on with his narration. "Obviously, when mother found out, she threw a fit. She probably would have demolished the entire house, except father was smart enough to bring us all the way to some crude mountain resort to break the news. She tried everything to win him back. It was quite depressing, really. Yo-hyung and I were old enough to understand the complexities between our parents' relationship, but Jung wasn't. Isn't. He's the one who was most affected by the drama," he sighs. "He started learning martial arts the moment our mother threw the divorce papers at our father over dinner."

"She filed the divorce? Isn't that strange? Why would she do it, not him?"

"You'll find my mother hasn't changed much over the years," he replies dryly. "She's still as ambitious and prideful. He wanted her consent before making the divorce official; she just threw it at him as some sort of desperate last attempt."

"Which didn't work."

"Nope," he chuckles grimly. "You'll find my father hasn't changed much either. He signed the papers right then and there and left. Mother had a nervous breakdown. We had to rush her to the hospital."

Hajin had no love for Queen Yoo, but she flinched in sympathy. "So why doesn't she like your brother?"

"They were alright before," he replies with a shrug. "Then Mu-hyung came into the picture. She wants the company to be passed on to one of us, "his real sons". She's been trying to set us up with daughters of influential families for years to help better our position in the company. But Yo-hyung refused," he looks at her then, also finding this next piece of information amusing, "he had a childhood sweetheart whose father was an ordinary salaryman. He married her without telling our mother and she hasn't quite forgiven him for it. Not that he cares. He's perfectly content being away from the spotlight."

"Oh," Hajin mumbles, feeling uneasy. So that's what this Sunday's party is for. Queen Yoo's probably going to try and set So up with some foreign princess or other.

Sensing her inner turmoil, he crouches in front of her and smiles. "You know I never cared for any of those girls."

"But... if you don't marry some rich princess or other," she says 'princess' a little harsher than she'd intended and glances at him to see his reaction. His smile widens to a grin. "Won't she disown you or something?" she asks in a rush.

"She might."

"And... you're not bothered by it?"

"While it's true she's infinitely nicer and pays a whole lot more attention to me now than she ever did in Goryeo, if it's a choice between her and you, there's really no competition," he says easily, taking her rice-covered hand in his. "I don't even know why I was so fixated on her in the past. Her death was devastating... but losing you destroyed me completely." He says it quietly enough, but Hajin can see the underlying sadness in his eyes. "Even if it means losing her love in this life... it doesn't matter to me. You're the only thing that matters to me now."

A huge lump forms in Hajin's throat and her vision's blurring with tears. She tries to blink them away, but too much had pooled in her eyes and as soon as she blinks, they roll down her cheeks in torrents.

"Don't cry, Soo-yah," he says gently, squeezing her hand.

"I'm sorry for leaving..." As soon as she says it, she wants to slap herself. She had bigger things to be sorry for.

"Water under the bridge," he says firmly, getting up and pulling her to her feet. "Come here." He wraps his arms tightly around her and presses his lips to her temple while she sobs.

"I'm sorry for dying," she hiccups, "without your permission."

If he hadn't been so damaged by her death, he might have found her apology funny. "There's nothing to be sorry for," he assures her gently. "I don't think there's anything you can do that I won't be able to forgive."

She could think of one reason. A particularly big one. But she doesn't want to test his generosity just yet, so instead she says, "You just showered and now you're covered in rice."

"You said it wasn't nasty."

"It's not. It'll make you feel better."

He grunts. "Then maybe you should take one, too."

She sniffs and nods. "Okay. One each." She turns away briefly to pluck a piece off the plate. She holds it up for him to inspect. "It's you."

He blinks at the face scowling up at him. "You know... it was my mother who gave me that scar." He had meant it to be just a passing remark, but she looks positively mortified and almost immediately starts crying again. "I didn't know! Now you're not even going to eat it and feel better!" she wails in despair.

"I will!" he assures her hastily, taking it from her. "I will, Soo-yah! Yah, stop crying," he pleads. "I didn't tell you all this to distress you."

"How can I not be distressed?" she demands wretchedly, burying her face in his shoulder.

"It's all in the past," he reminds her, remembering belatedly that while he had welcomed death with open arms after spending 25 years contemplating the life he'd lived, Haesoo had died decades earlier with a lot of unresolved issues and heartaches. He tries to imagine what she must be feeling right now, but it's difficult. All he can really do is comfort her. "Soo-yah," he says, putting the rice ball back on the plate and pushing her gently off him. She has her face pressed in between her palms, and she's looking sulky. "I love you."

Her eyes snap up to meet his and the sulky expression slowly goes away. He smiles. "Let's forget about everything for tonight, hm? There's no point in the both of us getting headaches."

She shuts her eyes and groans. That's right. He's not even feeling well; she probably just made his headache worse. She wants to curl up somewhere and disappear, but with a sudden jerk, he pulls her towards him, making her body flushed with his. She yelps and eyes him with surprise.

"The food's getting cold," he decides to state the obvious.

With a quick glance around them, she realizes he's right. She sighs in defeat. "Aish, why isn't anything going right today?" she demands sourly.

"I don't know what you mean," he says, teasingly.

"You have a headache, the food's cold, and... those!" she points at the half dozen rice balls she's managed to make, all with his face on them. "Maybe we should have just eaten out. This is a disaster."

"I don't know what you mean," he says again.

"I just told you-"

"I don't care where I am or what I do," he interrupts, stroking her cheek gently with his forefinger, "if you're beside me, how can anything be a disaster?"

She blushes but can't deny the fluttering of her heart at his words. He kisses her forehead and watches as her expression transitions from being shocked to eventually housing a small smile. He smiles and proceeds to lightly kiss the bridge of her nose, moving steadily south to her slightly parted lips.