KMH – Chapter 10

A black sedan cut through the city, submerged in the night.

Brilliant lights poured over Jukyeong’s face as she leaned her temple against the window.

Looking back, she hadn’t always been afraid of being trapped somewhere.

She’d only realized something was wrong with her—only become conscious of it—after she’d been stuck in the attic with Seju.

And at the beginning of that fear was the memory of her staring blankly as her father’s coffin went into the cremation chamber.

When the door to the furnace that swallowed her father closed, a red light appeared on the wall monitor. Next to the late Ha Jinwoo’s name, a progress bar showed the percentage.

[Cremation in progress (1%)]

She stared up at it, and then, suddenly—

‘Is it hot in there?’

While she silently asked herself that, her mother—watching the procedures for her ex-husband’s cremation—fainted twice.

The accompanying secretaries hurriedly called the protocol team and took her mother out. Instead of going with Manager Moon from the main house to the bereaved family waiting room, Jugyeong sat down in the row of chairs lined up directly in front of the glass window.

A fairy tale she’d once read said death was a long journey.

Back then, Jugyeong muttered to herself, “Liar.” Death just meant you couldn’t see them anymore, didn’t it?

Knowing that full well, yet still…

If it was too hot to bear and Dad pounded on the door, she’d have to beg someone for help. Anyone.

But for some reason, her nose stung. So she lowered her head and only stared at the toe of her pink enamel shoes with the ribbon.

That was when a large shadow fell over her.

Jugyeong, biting her lip, jerked her head up.

It wasn’t her father, who she’d been waiting for.

It was her grandfather.

And still, her sobs burst out.

Chairman Cha Seongcheol immediately lifted his granddaughter into his arms.

In her maternal grandfather’s embrace, Jugyeong thought of her mother—the streams of tears cutting down her pale face, her knees folding without strength.

She thought of her father—when she’d said, “I want to go with Mom,” and after a short silence, he’d smiled. “Okay,” he’d answered softly, and the warm hand had gently swept through her hair.

Lastly, she thought about goodbye.

A lot.

“…….”

Jugyeong closed her eyes lightly and opened them again.

At some point, the car had entered Pyeongchang-dong and was pulling into the mansion’s garage.

After parking, Manager Moon opened the rear door.

“Let’s go. I’ll see you inside.”

It was time to set aside useless sentiment and return to reality.

When she spoke with Grandfather, she had to choose her words as carefully as if playing a match—steeping them like tea before pouring them out. By the time she left his study, she often even had a mild headache.

First, the blind date…

With Managing Director Kwon Hyeontae, their goals simply didn’t align—that was enough to close it.

Next, she should ask how the results of his regular vital checkups had been lately….

Crossing the garden lit up with lamps, Jugyeong’s face gradually hardened.

“Oh my, miss. How long has it been?”

Na Ju-daek, who had come out to greet her in the corridor, called to her warmly.

“Where’s Grandfather?”

“He’s waiting in Yeongwoldang.”

Yeongwoldang was a reception space that only opened when the Hyogwang family held major annual events or called in their closest people. Jugyeong, who hadn’t heard anything in advance, tilted her head.

It couldn’t be her second uncle—so devoted in public, but the type to get drunk at Lunar New Year rites and shout, “Hwajeong, you and your brother really shouldn’t do that to me!”—surely not him.

Her first uncle would be swamped preparing his second son’s wedding.

Her mother, obviously not.

So who was here?

Then, abruptly, her thoughts jumped somewhere else entirely.

If it weren’t for Seju, she wouldn’t have calmed down so quickly in the elevator—maybe she should’ve thanked him properly one more time… something like that.

“Ha Jugyeong. The Ha Jugyeong who stabbed some poor bastard in the chest and disappeared.”

…What had he meant by that?

Chewing over the moment with Seju without realizing it, Jugyeong reached Yeongwoldang.

And in the next instant, she went numb.

To her grandfather’s right sat Seju’s parents.

To his left—

Seju.

***

Why was Cheon Seju in Cheongwoljae of all places….

It seemed she was the only one whose mind had gone completely white at the unexpected encounter.

Seju, frowning as if assessing the situation, leisurely pulled out the chair beside him.

“Jugyeong, come sit down.”

Only then did Jugyeong come back to herself.

Seated by Grandfather’s side, Director Im and her husband smiled warmly, delighted.

First: smile.

Jugyeong hurriedly wiped the fluster off her face and returned the smile.

As if he’d been waiting for it, Seju’s brows shot up.

Jugyeong deliberately ignored him and walked to the table.

‘She runs a foundation and a museum now—watch the honorific. Call her correctly….’

“Hello, Director. Have you been well?”

Jugyeong greeted her as she sat. Director Im, who’d had her hands clasped tightly, replied,

“Of course. Have you been well, Jugyeong? Is work manageable?”

“Yes, I’ve been well. When I heard you’d come back to Korea, I should’ve contacted you first, but I’m very late.”

“Don’t say that. We’ve seen each other’s faces now, and that’s enough. And with this chance, you’re seeing the Chairman again after so long.”

Director Im smiled gently and turned to Chairman Cha Seongcheol.

Watching Jugyeong and Director Im chat in soft murmurs, Chairman Cha finally spoke.

“I heard Director Im took good care of our youngest when she was having such a hard time.”

‘A hard time….’

Jugyeong didn’t need him to say when. Her cheeks kept wanting to stiffen; she forced them loose and dropped her gaze.

As if she’d been studying Jugyeong closely, Director Im said,

“That’s only because I rarely got to talk to Hwajeong, so I called her in for my own sake. How often do you get the blessing, at our age, of spending a season with an old friend?”

With eyes full of fine wrinkles, Chairman Cha watched Director Im, then wet his throat with water.

“I’ve always wanted to treat you to a proper meal, but does anything in this world ever go exactly the way I want?”

“That’s true.”

“I’m the one who’s late with greetings. Even if it’s just for this cranky old man, don’t be too offended.”

“If you say that, Chairman, I’ll feel hurt—and ashamed. I couldn’t even visit when you were ill. You could’ve just said you were disappointed I never came, but you talk like we’re strangers….”

“There’s a reason they say even devoted sons don’t last through a long illness. The things I had Manager Moon send you now and then—used them well.”

“Please just know that both Hwajeong and I feel relieved that you’ve recovered.”

At that, Grandfather hummed, satisfied, and picked up his chopsticks.

“Let’s eat.”

The meal began.

Stone pot rice with golden tilefish, chives finely chopped on top. A deeply brewed geumjung-tang. Fragrant seasonal greens and clean, cool nabak kimchi.

There were more side dishes as well, but her chopsticks wouldn’t reach them easily. It wasn’t only that she had no appetite—sharing a table in Yeongwoldang with Seju and Grandfather was far more of an ordeal than she’d expected.

There didn’t even seem to be a reason it should be this hard, so why…?

Jugyeong kept resetting her posture and expression, trying not to lose the flow at the table. Even if she couldn’t lead the conversation, she at least didn’t want to disrupt it. She didn’t want to catch Grandfather’s eye the wrong way.

“Director Im says these days she doesn’t even have enough hours in the day—between special lectures at her alma mater and scouting new artists. That’s not something you can do unless you have affection for the domestic art world. Isn’t that right, President Cheon?”

At that moment, Jugyeong caught the sound of Seju saying something to Na Ju-daek as she cleared dishes. Her eating slowed as she stole a glance.

‘What is he saying to her…?’

They shouldn’t even be acquainted.

Before she knew it, Na Ju-daek removed Jugyeong’s geumjung-tang and placed down a simple radish soup flavored only with vegetable stock.

Jugyeong looked to the side, startled.

Her gaze collided with Seju’s.

As the unintentional eye contact stretched, something changed in the face that had looked nothing but bored. One corner of his mouth twisted up in a crooked smile, and he flicked his eyes toward the dishware—as if telling her to stop doing pointless things and just eat.

All her effort was for nothing. The pulse that had calmed down picked up speed again.

…There was no way he could know she hated seafood.

Startled like she’d been burned, Jugyeong snapped her head away and gripped her spoon tighter.

Then Seju slowly leaned in.

“It’ll taste bad if it gets cold.”

As if that was all he’d come to say, Seju pulled back again, indifferent.

Jugyeong reflexively swept her gaze over everyone seated around the table.

Chairman Cha and Director Im’s conversation flowed on naturally, and Seju’s father seemed focused on checking what food was going into his wife’s mouth—he didn’t look interested in Jugyeong at all.

Seju, resuming his meal as if nothing had happened, pointed to Jugyeong’s empty water glass toward a servant.

When had he been spitting out those incomprehensible things—about knives in chests and whatever he pleased—and now suddenly he was acting like this?

Around then, Grandfather’s arrow flew toward Seju.

“I hear you’re twenty-nine too, like our Jugyeong.”

Jugyeong’s throat went stiff.

But Seju answered in a tone that was neither too humble nor too insolent.

“Yes.”

“Right. And work?”

“Just… well. I make a living, more or less. On my own merits.”

Jugyeong blinked, startled. In Seju’s unhesitating answer, there was something firm—like she could feel the hard core of him through his words.

No one spoke to her grandfather like that.

“Haha!”

Grandfather—whose gaze still burned keenly despite nearing ninety—burst into a hearty laugh.

Maybe it was exactly the kind of answer that pleased him: he couldn’t stand spineless yes-men.

Grandfather planted his hand on the table as if striking it, and turned to Director Im.

“Soo-ah. That bastard is your spitting image.”

Jugyeong stared at Chairman Cha, momentarily lost.

Was there something special in Seju’s answer?

While she stirred her soup quietly, she felt a gaze stabbing into her cheek. She also heard Seju mutter under his breath, voice twisted with mockery.

“Acting like that at your age. Picky about side dishes.”

Jugyeong pretended not to hear any of it and stubbornly scooped up rice and put it in her mouth.

That was when—

A nail clipped short and sharp dug into the tip of her index finger.

“…!”

Her hair prickled all over. She almost screamed.

Seju had seized the back of her hand with a vicious grip.

Heat rushed straight up to the crown of her head.

“Enough.”

Seju hissed.

“Stop ignoring people like they’re nothing.”

Jugyeong, rigid, knitted her brows slowly.

Ignoring…?

Her pulse, thrown off, hammered unpleasantly beneath her ear—thud, thud.

She was grateful he hadn’t left her alone in the elevator, but that didn’t mean he could treat her however he wanted.

To mess with her like this—right in front of Grandfather.

When he knew better than anyone what Grandfather meant to her.

Jugyeong clamped her lips shut and twisted her wrist, but Seju didn’t budge. He looked like he wouldn’t let go unless he heard an answer.

And as if nothing was happening, he calmly kept eating.

Jugyeong’s breath started to quicken with rising anxiety when—

“Jugyeong. Does it suit your taste?”

At once, Jugyeong stopped struggling under the table and steadied her breathing.

Then she narrowed her eyes into a smile and looked at Grandfather.

“Yes.”

Only then did Seju leisurely release her.

And whenever Seju slowly flexed his ankle from time to time, their skin brushed, forcing Jugyeong to bite her lip for no reason at all.

Before she knew it, the empty dishes on the table disappeared one by one; sweets and tea were brought out.

Jugyeong quietly excused herself and headed to the kitchen connected to Yeongwoldang.

The servants bustling around stole sideways looks at her. They all looked like they were thinking, ‘What brings you here?’

Blinking, Jugyeong said,

“…I’ll take Grandfather’s herbal medicine with me.”

Through the window, she could see the garden lit up in the distance. In the darkened glass, busy servants appeared and disappeared—and in the gaps, a lone, blank face reflected back.

How did that face look to him?

A face scrambling desperately not to get dragged in?

Ah….

This is the worst.

The absolute worst.