Flowers Are Bait - Chapter 239:

The light rain, which had initially been a gentle drizzle, escalated into a relentless downpour. Unconsciously biting her lip, Lee-yeon shifted her attention to the persistently ringing phone.

It was a number that, in the past, remained unavailable.

The moment that dreaded name materialized on the screen, Lee-yeon quickly answered it.

As the rain-soaked soil beneath her feet solidified, a heaviness settled within Lee-yeon.

“Chae-woo, don’t stay in a place like this anymore.”

Just as plants require specific soil for optimal growth, Lee-yeon wished to uproot Kwon Chae-woo and transplant him as much as possible.

Her stifled breath finally found release through newfound prayers.

***

―Lee-yeon.

The voice from the other end of the receiver was a signal. Though she couldn’t hastily run due to her sensitive stomach, Lee-yeon’s strides gradually increased.

The employees seemed to have evacuated earlier due to the sudden downpour, and she pierced through the rain, creating a makeshift awning with her palm.

―There’s something I want to show Lee-yeon.

“….”

―I’ve found it, a way to fill the gap of five hundred years.

“Where are you now?”

While already heading towards him, Lee-yeon asked, concealing her unease.

―I’m going to Lee-yeon right now. Wait there.

“No, I’m on my way—”

At that moment, her legs abruptly stopped.

At the end of the garden, Kwon Chae-woo, wearing an umbrella, was walking towards her. A bit awkwardly, he held an unfamiliar cello in one hand.

Though Lee-yeon had seen Kwon Chae-woo clenching someone’s neck, the sight of Kwon Chae-woo holding a musical instrument and a bow was unfamiliar.

From the moment Kwon Ki-seok mentioned his brother playing the cello, Lee-yeon had an image of the man in mind. But seeing Kwon Chae-woo in the flesh, naturally holding the instrument made the reality more palpable.

The stark contrast between him and the crimson cello was anything but ordinary.

“Lee-yeon, this is the answer I’ve found.”

Their gazes met in mid-air.

Kwon Chae-woo covered her drenched head with an umbrella. He firmly placed the umbrella in Lee-yeon’s hand, clasped her hand tightly, then stepped back.

Soon, he brought a chair, spread his legs, and sat down. In the muddy ground, he firmly embedded the endpin and fixed the cello.

No way… no way…

Kwon Chae-woo embraced the cello in a perfect posture. However, as he held the bow, his hand suddenly began to tremble.

“….”

“….”

Frozen as if on edge, Lee-yeon couldn’t help but tense up at the visibly abnormal trembling. A subtle fear, like the sting of a hornet, emerged from the man who had suddenly entered the rain and was instantly drenched.

Kwon Chae-woo closed his eyes tightly with an expression more rigid than ever. The bent head and the heavily soaked white shirt seemed oddly repulsive.

As what Kwon Ki-seok had said, when the news of Yoon Joo-ha’s death reached Kwon Chae-woo, and he had quit music during a long depression.

Perhaps it felt like being expelled from a place where he had lived all his life. A man who, having been rejected, had to consciously bury the music he had made an effort to bring out again.

In this moment, Lee-yeon felt a strange sense of camaraderie with him, someone who seemed no different from herself.

Without realizing it, she found herself anxiously anticipating the moment he would play the first note.

However, Kwon Chae-woo couldn’t move easily. It looked as if resilient vines were tightly coiled around his arms, hindering him. Without thinking, Lee-yeon moved before she could ponder.

Approaching Kwon Chae-woo, she brushed his wrist as if removing thorns.

“There’s nothing there.”

Her touch made Kwon Chae-woo shrug his shoulders.

“Don’t look back.”

After experiencing Kwon Ki-seok’s twisted malice, it was like a well-contained emotion gushing out.

“Mr. Kwon Chae-woo said to do that.”

She touched Kwon Chae-woo’s fingers, the back of his hand, and his wrist as if there were no obstacles. Kwon Chae-woo could only helplessly look at her, the woman who had suddenly appeared like a light. The long-standing thorny vines that had been entangled like a brand began to gradually disappear.

When Kwon Chae-woo breathed unsteadily, a low bass cut through the raindrops.

“….!”

He traversed the familiar fingerboard up and down, producing a sound.

The elongated fingers, aggressively shaking each thin string, sharp bone joints sticking out. When the sound, buried for years, finally sprouted, an intense melody bloomed from his fingertips.

The initial burst of the cello’s sound, explosively mingling with the pouring rain, was oddly harmonious. He clenched his jaw, confidently traversing the long fingerboard, scratching it like he was scraping the abyss.

When the sound emerged from the cello’s strings, a poignant melody rang out.

Chaconne, the saddest music in the world.

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