MELTM Chapter 1 Part 2

Nine Years Ago.

February—when bare branches trembled under knife-cold wind. With the security guard enforcing rules with fussy strictness, the flower vendors had set up camp across the street from the school gate. I-young, completely absorbed in looking at the flowers, was the last of the graduates to pass through the front gate.

For a brief moment, the mood was awkward from the college admissions results that had split everyone into winners and losers. But soon enough, the kids each swore they’d keep in touch even after graduation, clasping their friendships tighter. Before they’d even finished pouring out all their feelings, every graduating student was herded into the auditorium, and I-young blended in without making a fuss.

On the stage at the front of the auditorium, the awards ceremony for top-ranking students went on in an unbroken line. Even though the teacher told them to sit in attendance-number order, friends still clustered together in little groups of three and four. Sitting alone in the very back row, I-young felt her phone vibrate inside the pocket of her uniform blazer. She glanced around once, then slipped her hand in.

[Come for a sec.]

A short text. It didn’t have to specify where—she already knew. The staircase where sometimes I-young waited, and other times Jeong-in waited. The corridor under the fifth floor is plastered with an AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY sign because of ongoing construction.

Even as the graduation ceremony reached its final stretch—and even through the principal’s boring sermon—the bright, excited energy inside the auditorium didn’t fade. I-young took advantage of the noisy chaos and slipped out. When she ran into the grade head teacher, she lied that her stomach hurt. To the vice class president sitting next to her, she lied that her arm hurt. It wouldn’t matter.

Before heading to the annex building, I-young stopped by the garden behind the auditorium. A single tulip she’d been handed while browsing at the flower truck. The bud was already open—right now was when it was prettiest.

Clasping her hands behind her back, I-young climbed the annex stairs. She hadn’t even hurried, yet her breath came short. There were too many steps to take all five floors in one go.

Panting, she reached the fifth floor. Jeong-in, leaning beside the No Entry sign, greeted her first.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

An awkward greeting, shoved in out of nowhere between two people who always went straight to the point. I-young stepped closer to Jeong-in, trying hard not to show her back.

“I heard you’re going up front as the graduating class representative.”

First place in the grade was always Jeong-in’s seat. Because of that, I-young always had to stop at second—but she’d never once felt bitter or dissatisfied about it. That wasn’t something unique to I-young; it was something anyone would accept as obvious.

“Yeah. I have to go.”

Jeong-in had come to school at dawn for graduation rehearsals and all that—something I-young knew—so she was even more thrown off.

What if she’d done all that practice and then ended up being late? Seo Jeong-in messing up in front of the entire student body—she couldn’t even picture it.

“Hey, Son I-young.”

I-young was distracted by the unpleasant image. Getting lost in stray thoughts was one of her bad habits. This was exactly one of those moments, and that was why, even when she heard her own name, she didn’t answer right away.

“Son I-young.”

At the second call, I-young finally lifted her head. Jeong-in’s cold, detached face was both unfamiliar and familiar. She’d seen it before, but never directed at her.

“Let’s not see each other again.”

Eyes straight and unwavering. I-young met eyes that held no joke, no lie—only sincerity.

Right then, the thunderous applause from the auditorium seeped faintly through the window. Reflexively, I-young turned her head. Outside the window, a huge banner hanging at the auditorium entrance flapped in the wind:

CONGRATS. GRADUATION.

+++

Tap—.

I-young, who’d been staring blankly at the cosmetics advertisement banner outside the window, turned around at the sudden sound.

“Team Lead Son, didn’t you say you were going to eat lunch and come back?”

Team Lead Yang, who’d just walked into the office, asked while pointing at the sandwich in I-young’s hand.

“I was going to, but the other person suddenly broke our appointment.”

“Really? That’s enough for a meal?”

Team Lead Yang frowned like she felt sorry for her, and I-young nodded.

“Why would she break the appointment?”

“Yeah… I don’t know either.”

Why? With the reason Jeong-in had given, it still wasn’t enough to call off a marriage that had already been set all the way through to the family meeting date. It wasn’t like Chairman Seo had somehow not done any background checks until now. Unless they were trying to find fault at this late stage to gain leverage in the deal, scrapping the marriage altogether was logically hard to understand.

Because Seo Jeong-in had said her piece and disappeared, all I-young could do now was make half-baked guesses.

“She really knows how to make people curious.”

I-young muttered to herself.

It wasn’t that she regretted this match—she didn’t believe her mother’s talk about it being some incredible once-in-a-lifetime chance to turn her life around. If anything, what she believed in was her own instinct.

That Jeong-in had a reason she hadn’t said.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to magically turn this marriage into a “good opportunity.” And yet, for the first time, I-young found herself wanting to involve herself in it—actively.

 

+++

It had been just three years since I-young stepped into furniture design—something she’d never paid much attention to back when she was majoring in architectural design. It all started when she couldn’t find a suitable chest of drawers while helping out at an architectural design studio run by her senior, Han-byeol, and ended up visiting a nearby woodworking shop instead.

Han-byeol, who had more money than she knew what to do with, spared no expense in backing her. Before long, with I-young at the forefront, they even launched a furniture design brand. They built a quiet reputation through word of mouth for luxury custom furniture, and after a vanity table featured in a magazine interview with Han-byeol two months ago went viral, they’d been so busy they could barely catch their breath.

“Team Lead Son. Order number seventeen. They want to change the design again—what should we do?”

“You mean the solid wood sofa?”

“Yes. What should we do? We already started production yesterday.”

“First, contact the studio director and tell them to stop the work. As for calling the client… Team Lead Yang, could you handle that?”

If nothing else, I-young had absolutely no talent for dealing with customers. Compared to Team Lead Yang—who was exceptionally smooth with words—she often ended up being a liability instead. Han-byeol, the daughter of a wealthy family, liked to joke with her that this was exactly why kids from rich families were no good.

“The director said last time was really the last time. Do you think she’ll stop it?”

“Just try contacting her first.”

“Okay. And they said the lighting and living room panel work is finished, so I’m planning to go check on Monday.”

“Alright. Good work.”

They were planning to focus solely on the furniture business for a while once the ongoing remodeling project wrapped up. But according to the original schedule, the construction should’ve ended last week—yet thanks to the client’s constant flip-flopping, there was no end in sight, leaving the entire office with headaches.

“So, are you done now? You’re finished for the day, right?”

Han-byeol, who’d been spinning herself around in the chair next to I-young, asked with shining eyes.

“I still have work to do. You know I’d be useless even if you dragged me along.”

“Why would you be useless? I’ll be bored on the way. You’re coming with me, right?”

“No.”

I-young coldly turned down Han-byeol’s whining. Han-byeol clutched her chest and made a wounded face, but I-young’s gaze was already locked back onto her monitor.

“What’s so busy about work, anyway. Team Lead Yang is such a bore. If it really comes to it, you could just wait in the car.”

“CEO. I’m right here. I have ears. I can hear you.”

“Mmm, but our Team Lead Yang is great at her job, right? I always trust you with things.”

At the exchange between Team Lead Yang and Han-byeol, I-young shook her head, stifling a hollow laugh.

“Why don’t you go with Team Lead Yang?”

“Team Lead Son! You’re really going to do me like this?”

“Team Lead Son! I don’t want to go with the CEO either, you know?”

With Han-byeol and Team Lead Yang both calling out to her at the same time—and then launching into what sounded like a debate over who disliked the situation more—I-young naturally slipped herself out of the equation.

She’d grown used to being called Team Lead Son now, but once upon a time, I-young’s dream had been to become a judge. It was a long-standing fantasy of her mother, Mi-suk’s, so throughout I-young’s school years, “judge” had always been written first in the future aspirations box.

I-young changed paths around the beginning of her nineteenth winter. The indecision lasted all the way through exam season. When Mi-suk belatedly found out that I-young had applied to an architectural design department, she collapsed in the middle of the living room and wailed.

<It’s the best school. The best in Korea.>

<So what? You still can’t become a judge! How could you do this without even telling your mother?>

While Mi-suk screamed about whether she thought tuition would just fall from the sky and demanded she retake the exams, Chairman Son simply said four words—“You’ve worked hard”—and with that, I-young’s college enrollment went through without issue.

The new dream she found after betraying the dream of becoming a judge—a dream she’d held for more than ten years, from age eight to eighteen—fit her far better than she’d expected. Working within fixed dimensions, doing graphic design, building models—it all suited her temperament. She struggled plenty with design itself, but if she was told to pull all-nighters, she did. If she was told to travel to the provinces for site inspections, she went. If it was work she was assigned, she followed through and adapted without much trouble.

She met Han-byeol at the freshman welcome party. As I-young passed by, Han-byeol recognized her first as Chairman Son’s daughter. She said they’d exchanged greetings at some group dinner once, but I-young didn’t remember it.

“Are you really not coming? Come on, let’s go together. What business is more important than meeting clients? Team Lead Son. I really want this outsourcing job. Let’s try working with a big corporation just once, okay?”

Fully ready to head out, Han-byeol pulled one earbud out of I-young’s ear as she spoke.

“Go with Team Lead Yang. I have errands after work, so I can’t.”

“What kind of errand?”

“A flower shop. I have to pick up the flowers I reserved.”

“Flowers? Why flowers?”

“So please, let it slide today. It’s not like this is something essential for me.”

I-young took the earbud back from Han-byeol’s hand and popped it back into her ear. To make it to her reservation on time, she needed to leave within thirty minutes. Her busy hand moving the mouse was promptly blocked by Han-byeol’s interference.

“What kind of anniversary is it?”

“It’s not an anniversary. There’s just someone I need to make a good impression on.”

“Team Lead Son has someone she needs to impress? You treat even me—the CEO—like this.”

“CEO. This kind of grilling is an abuse of authority. Ask one more question, and I’ll file a complaint for invasion of privacy.”

At I-young’s breezy explanation, Han-byeol stepped back, visibly flustered.

“…There’s no HR department here. Where are you even filing a complaint? Why are you drawing such a hard line between us?”

She grumbled loud enough for everyone to hear, but even so, Han-byeol seemed to think that if it were I-young, she might just conjure up a nonexistent HR department out of thin air. In the end, she stopped pestering her and turned away.

Eventually, Han-byeol and Team Lead Yang left the office bickering with each other.

Left alone in the welcome quiet, I-young straightened her back. The sun would be setting soon, and if she ran later than planned, it would be troublesome.

She hurried—so she wouldn’t be late with her flowers, a gift ten years in the making.

 

+++

The heat that she’d thought had already reached its peak only grew more vicious with each passing day. Stepping out of the taxi, I-young squinted instinctively under the blazing sun and glanced around.

Towering among rows of luxury homes enclosed by walls, she quickly found her bearings and set off. A bouquet in one hand, a gift box in the other.

—…I guess they must eat their meals with gold leaf sprinkled on top? What makes them so damn special that they get to break off a marriage they proposed, like this—breaking it off, just like that.

“So did you report it?”

I-young asked, barely managing to swallow a sigh as she spoke into her earbuds.

—Not yet. But Mom’s heart is pounding so hard I feel like I’m going to die.

“It won’t take long.”

—How long is ‘not long’? Your father thinks the formal meeting is next month. We have to say something now if we want any room to maneuver.

“What room to maneuver does a chairman really have?”

I-young stopped in front of a black brick house that lingered faintly in her memory. Catching the eye of the guard inside the booth next to the iron gate, she returned a suitably polite smile.

—Then what about you? You, I-young—what method do you have? You’re doing this because you want to blow up the marriage, aren’t you?

“If they come down hard, no one really has a chance.”

At one point, people even joked that Donghwan’s daughters-in-law must be trading their lives for the family’s prosperity—every one of them died young. Seo Jeong-in’s biological mother had passed away just seven days after giving birth, leaving Jeong-in as the only person who could plausibly appear in public as the lady of the Donghwan Group.

When I-young first heard that the prospective groom was Seo Jeong-ho, she’d been sent a photo of a man in an awkward suit, as if someone had badly photoshopped it together. Staring at the image, I-young had thought instead of Seo Jeong-in, who looked nothing like him.

How deeply had Jeong-in been involved?

Had she, as rumors suggested, deliberately chosen an easy target of a family to keep the position of lady of the house for herself, and had Son I-young simply been the one she caught in the net while searching?

Questions with no way to be resolved twisted in an unexpected direction on the day Jeong-in was drenched with water.

—And knowing all that, you’re still dragging your feet? You really are doing this because you want to cancel the marriage, aren’t you? I don’t think I have time to be doing this right now. I should tell the chairman immediately.

“What would you say?”

—What would I say? That they overturned it because you’re not actually the chairman’s biological daughter.

The guard cast a suspicious look at I-young, who was standing inexplicably in front of someone else’s home. Pretending not to notice, she continued the call while looking elsewhere.

“He’ll be furious. Will you be okay with that?”

—You…!

At I-young’s calm question, Mi-suk ground her teeth as if she’d been gravely insulted. Anyone watching might’ve thought I-young was the one in the wrong.

“I’ll try persuading him. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll report it myself.”

Knowing her mother’s worst sides better than anyone, I-young was also the person who best understood how to handle Mi-suk—whether she liked it or not.

—…You will?

“Yes. I will. So don’t report it yet.”

Rolling her stiff neck from side to side, I-young locked eyes with the guard, who’d clearly been waiting for his chance. Not missing the moment, he approached her.

“I’m hanging up. I need to go in now.”

The instant the call ended, the guard abruptly stretched an arm out to block her.

“You can’t loiter here like this. If you’ve come to the wrong place, you should leave.”

“No, I’ve come to the right place.”

I-young pressed the doorbell. It happened before the guard could stop her. Leaving his flustered expression behind, she arranged a harmless smile in front of the door camera.

When asked who it was, I-young started to say, “Me,” then hesitated.

Unlike someone whose three-syllable name could open doors anywhere in Korea, how many people even knew the name Son I-young? Possessing an acute sense of self-awareness, she hesitated, then spoke again.

“I’m the person who’s supposed to become a member of this household.”

Which, as of last week, seemed no longer true—but she conveniently omitted that part. After adding that they could call CEO Seo Jeong-in to confirm, she was told to wait a moment.

Heat pooled beneath her thin summer shirt. The narrow shade cast by the small awning was a welcome relief.

The iron gate she’d expected to open soon remained firmly shut even after some time had passed. The guard’s stare—likely just waiting for the order to kick her out—grew increasingly sharp.

Then her wireless earbuds rang. Holding the bouquet, I-young barely managed to press the call button.

“Yes, hello.”

The heat made even her own voice feel stifling. The voice that answered, by contrast, carried such a chill that I-young was certain the other person was sitting indoors with the air conditioner blasting.

“We can finally talk. I went to your office too, but they said you were on a business trip.”

She hadn’t expected such a quick response. Amused by the speed—faster than anticipated—she let a hint of laughter seep into her voice. Sensing it, the other voice grew even colder.

“When Seo Jeong-in wouldn’t answer her phone, there wasn’t much I could do.”

She’d called Jeong-in’s number—obtained through her step-sibling Shi-hyeon—more than ten times over the past few days. Every single call went unanswered. Not once did she receive a return call.

In the middle of a hectic Wednesday, she’d even taken half a day off to go to the Donghwan Construction building, only to be turned away by security on the first floor. She knew how rude it was to show up at someone’s home unannounced—but this was the last option she had left.

Jeong-in was the type to carry her emotions more in her voice than on her face. Because of that, I-young could roughly picture what expression she must be wearing right now.

Annoyed. Dumbfounded.

Maybe she’d even let out a hollow laugh.

There was no doubt that I-young’s actions had thoroughly scratched at Jeong-in’s nerves—and I-young didn’t dislike that fact.

“Then now you can answer the phone.”

A scoffing laugh came back immediately, and I-young pressed her lips together. Just then, a sticky summer breeze swept past, brushing against the overheated nape of her neck.

+++

“—By centering the gallery, we can turn the entire Sanjang-dong area into a cultural tourism hub, while also expecting a positive shift in public perception of Donghwan Construction. That concludes the presentation.”

The lights in the conference room, which had been dimmed, came back on as the presentation—the highlight of the art center construction meeting prepared jointly by the Business Division and the Design Division—ended. Aside from the executives, every department head and deputy manager at Donghwan Construction was present. Today, Jeong-in sat in as the representative of the Strategic Planning Division.

“Building P was redesigned, correct?”

From the central seat of honor, Jeong-in addressed Deputy Manager Yoon of the Business Division, who had led the presentation. At her question, a 3D rendering of the building immediately began rotating on the screen.

“Yes. We added lighting and window-frame detailing to the exterior walls, revising it so the building’s overall mass feels more three-dimensional.”

“It’s better than last time.”

Even that lukewarm praise from Jeong-in made everyone in the room silently cheer. A design planning meeting that should have ended long ago still hadn’t reached a clear conclusion, condemning them to weeks of overtime already.

“Let’s refine the section that connects to the plaza a bit more. Show me the aerial view.”

The screen filled with a bird’s-eye view descending from the sky, then slowly shifted to the perspective along the visitors’ walking paths.

“The photo zones will be set up at the sculpture in front of the main hall and the full-glass façade inside the gallery. And—”

“You’ve stripped down quite a lot from the initial proposal, haven’t you?”

Jeong-in cut Deputy Manager Yoon off. A few people in the room, quick to read the mood, swallowed hard, sensing that this proposal, too, was on the brink of rejection.

“After meetings with the Finance Team, we revised it with government subsidies in mind. However, since the core purpose is to reduce the cultural gap with Seoul, we still plan to present it as extravagantly and grandly as possible.”

“The main concept was a hidden paradise, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And this looks like paradise? You can practically see the cost-cutting. Marketing Team—can you even promote this building?”

At a question that clearly didn’t expect an answer, Manager Oh from Marketing tried to smooth things over with an awkward smile, but it didn’t last long before choking on her words and coughing.

“Deputy Manager Yoon—do you actually want to put the Donghwan name on a building like this?”

“…We’ll revise it.”

Every construction company was notorious for being haunted by cost-cutting demons, and Donghwan was no exception. That said, there was always a gap in perspective between Management and Planning—and it was common knowledge within the company just how much effort Jeong-in was pouring into this project.

“It’s good to consider the company’s situation, but let’s not make the cost-cutting obvious. I trust you’ll produce a better design.”

This cultural center was part of a government project. On paper, it was a deal with little to gain, and if you looked strictly at profit margins, there was a high chance of operating at a loss. Because of that, beyond the Management Division, even some executives muttered concerns about Jeong-in’s qualifications as a successor—but none of them could stop her from pushing forward.

Within the industry, it was quietly understood that this art center project would influence next year’s bid for government rental apartment construction.

“Has the interior firm for the 22nd-floor VIP lounge been selected?”

“There’s a blind meeting scheduled for today.”

“Let’s reconvene this month with the revised proposal. Good work, everyone.”

Leaving behind words that essentially meant keep up the hard work, Jeong-in rose from her seat and exited the conference room. Some people sighed in relief; others didn’t even have time to sigh and hurried out after her.

The moment Jeong-in stepped into the hallway, Secretary Song fell into step behind her. All the way to Jeong-in’s office on the 19th floor, she busily reported on developments from the meeting.

“The Chairman returned to his villa at 8 p.m. Prague time and has no further scheduled engagements. The call from Executive Director Park during dinner was taken by Secretary Im.”

“What was it about?”

“He said to pass along his regards to the Chairman.”

Executive Director Park was from the Management Division. It wasn’t hard to guess why he’d called a Chairman who was supposed to be recuperating.

“From now on—whether it’s the family home or the office—cut off any calls headed to the Chairman at the first stage.”

“Yes.”

“Especially anything coming from Hongindong.”

“Yes, Representative.”

When Jeong-in returned, Secretary Kim, who’d been stationed in the office, stood up.

“Your last engagement today is the Loca Gallery charity party at seven.”

“I can go alone. Leave early today.”

Having barely caught her breath upon returning to Korea, Jeong-in plunged straight into hands-on work. Naturally, the secretarial staff had been swamped as well. Knowing how frequently overtime had piled up lately, Jeong-in chose to handle at least tonight’s engagement on her own.

Once inside her private office, Jeong-in finally rubbed at her eyes with dry fingers. The reasons for her fatigue were layered and complex—but she deliberately avoided dwelling on them.

A person who often created new exhaustion to forget the old, Jeong-in, went straight to her desk.

When she powered on the monitor, the screen flickered twice before brightening—and a new memo notification popped up. The sender was Secretary Kim; the time stamp was from just minutes ago, while Jeong-in had still been talking with Secretary Song. Seeing that less than ten minutes had passed, Jeong-in leaned forward.

Even up close, the contents were hard to believe. Her eyes narrowed. Without taking her gaze off the memo, Jeong-in placed a call to Secretary Kim outside.

“Who sent a bouquet—and where?”

Even as she spoke, her face twisted with disbelief.

+++

“It’s cool in here.”

The interior, perfectly sealed off from the outside, felt completely detached from summer. The air conditioner ran silently at full blast, contributing to the comfortably chilled air.

“These are tulips. If you put them in a vase, they’ll bloom really nicely. Tulips open fast.”

I-young held out the bouquet, but when no hand reached for it, the flowers returned to rest on her lap instead. Just as she’d said, the bouquet was filled with unopened tulips and hyacinths.

“I brought some wild pine mushrooms too. You probably won’t cook them yourself, but… eat them.”

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

Jeong-in asked. Driver’s seat and passenger seat—at this close distance, the irritation in her voice reached I-young without delay.

Less than twenty minutes after ending the call with I-young, Jeong-in had arrived at the family home, pulling her car up beside I-young, who was still in a standoff with the guard at the gate. Jeong-in had fully intended to force her into the car if she made a scene—but the plan proved pointless. I-young climbed in without resistance.

“I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

“The gift isn’t the issue. I’m asking why you came here in the first place.”

“I told you on the phone. I couldn’t reach you, so I came.”

“There’s more to talk about? Because I don’t think there is.”

Jeong-in’s cold reply came fast, as if reciting an answer already decided. At the aggressive response, I-young turned her head to meet her gaze. The sharpness of Jeong-in’s eyes matched her voice—cutting, hostile. Even a porcupine wouldn’t bristle this hard. Not wanting to get stabbed by the quills, I-young looked forward again.

“‘Let’s pretend the marriage never existed.’ That’s not something that ends with just one sentence.”

“That depends on who says it. You’re perceptive, Son I-young. Can’t you read the situation?”

“I can. But the situation I see is just that Seo Jeong-in wants to cancel the marriage. That’s all. I don’t want to just leave without knowing why.”

I-young stayed I-young. Jeong-in stayed Jeong-in. Their words collided sharply, spoken without looking at each other.

Chairman Son had his reasons. Chairman Seo had his. Even her mother, Mi-suk, had hers. Whether it was greed for wealth or selfish familial affection, everyone had something you could shrug off with those figures.

But Jeong-in—the one determined to end the marriage—refused to reveal hers.

“Why does the reason matter? Whether I found a better match or discovered some major flaw in you. Whether that flaw is being a stepdaughter or something else entirely—what difference does it make? The outcome’s the same.”

Jeong-in wasn’t wrong. If she opposed it, the marriage was never going to proceed smoothly. Maybe it would be better for everyone if I-young simply accepted the result and stepped back.

But that logic didn’t apply to the others surrounding I-young.

With so many interests intertwined, I-young needed at least the bare minimum of information before deciding which side to stand on.

“I understand this match was arranged by the two chairmen meeting each other. Ending the marriage—this isn’t Chairman Seo’s instruction, is it?”

According to rumors her mother had heard, Chairman Seo had left Korea last month to enjoy a sabbatical. The timing lined up almost exactly with when the marriage talks began.

The unexpected silence was answer enough.

“So this is Seo Jeong-in canceling the marriage on her own. Then I—one of the parties involved—deserve to hear the reason.”

“…I’ll say this one last time. I won’t change my reason. Whether you believe it or not is your choice. I have zero intention of forming any ties with your family. As long as I’m here, this marriage will never happen—so give up quietly.”

Once Jeong-in decided something, she never went back on it. She had always had the power—and the certainty—to enforce her will.

No matter how deeply I-young dug through her memories, the only thing Jeong-in had ever said that didn’t come true was that final declaration to never see each other again.

“I don’t think our family and yours can mix. There are too many differences. It’s absurd.”

“…Absurd enough that what, exactly, is so different?”

“Starting with the idea of selling a cuckoo chick at full price.”

A tight pressure surged in I-young’s chest, and she furrowed her brow. It felt less like a conversation and more like standing in front of a solid wall. Every word she threw bounced back as a sharp stone, striking her.

Was this what it felt like to be buried under stacked stones?

The lack of air made her almost miss the scorching heat from earlier. I-young unconsciously gripped the car door handle.

As if waiting for it, Jeong-in unlocked the door. At the click, I-young opened it, ignoring the bouquet falling to the ground as she pushed herself out.

“I understand the situation now. This is something that could’ve ended quietly—let’s not make it bigger.”

Jeong-in pressed her relentlessly, watching as I-young stood there taking deep breaths with one hand on the car door. As I-young fully stepped out, Jeong-in got out as well, retrieved the luxury gift box from the passenger-side footwell, and set it down by I-young’s feet before getting back into the car without a word.

“And I hope you don’t come looking for me like this again. This neighborhood has too many eyes. Rumors spread fast.”

Jeong-in said through the open passenger window.

“Even if you didn’t know before, you shouldn’t act irresponsibly.”

Whether it was heatstroke or bottled rage, I-young stood there breathing like someone swallowing fire. The word irresponsible pierced her ears.

“Irresponsible?”

She didn’t hear her own voice repeating it. The sharp pain in her ears, followed by ringing, snapped her mind fully awake.

The car hadn’t started yet. The door wasn’t even locked.

“…What?”

I-young reopened the passenger door she’d just closed herself. Jeong-in’s frown looked almost startled.

“Why did you do that back then?”

Whether Jeong-in understood what that time meant was irrelevant to I-young. Pushed to the edge, emotion surged ahead of reason. This was only the beginning.

“It feels exactly like that time again. Like getting hit out of nowhere. The person who hits never realizes it.”

After saying let’s not see each other again, Jeong-in boarded a flight to Germany just days later. Back then, I-young had thought vaguely that there must’ve been a reason—that if she apologized properly, things would be fine.

That was how her younger self had accepted the breakup.

Without warning.

Without reason.

…That wasn’t leaving. That was abandonment.

“You know. I wasn’t sure whether I’d marry or not—but now I’ve decided.”

Just days ago, I-young had told Shi-hyeon, Marriage? If it happens, it happens; if it doesn’t, it doesn’t, flipping her nerves inside out. Even when she came to see Jeong-in today, she’d thought, If Seo Jeong-in sticks to her stance, it can’t be helped.

This sudden decision leaned entirely on emotion.

“I’m going to get married.”

If it was recklessness, then it was recklessness.

If it was revenge, then it was revenge.

“So if you want to break off the marriage—convince me.”

I-young said it as she picked up the crushed bouquet beneath her heels and held it out toward the car.