Episode 14
Junyoung lifted her chin and raised the glass of juice with a forced elegance. The woman, who had been watching her silently, finally spoke.
“What does your father do? He must be so proud to have such a smart daughter.”
There was a brief moment of hesitation before Junyoung let the glass slip from her hand. The spilled orange juice soaked her clothes, and she shot to her feet. Seungwoon immediately stood up in alarm.
“Junyoung, are you okay? Someone, could we get something to clean this?”
“Ah, I’m fine. Sorry, my hand slipped. I’m really sorry.”
She bowed her head toward the woman, who smiled with a peculiar expression. Dabbing her lips with a napkin, the woman stood up.
“You’re quite wet. It’d be better to change. Ms. Kim, please bring something decent.”
“That’s okay. I can just—”
“It’s uncomfortable for me to look at.”
The woman’s curt words made Ms. Kim step forward. Junyoung turned away from Seungwoon, who gave her a reassuring smile, and sighed.
I didn’t think about this. Why didn’t I see this coming? It’s the most obvious question!
She had never been invited to a friend’s house before, but still—she should’ve expected this. If you invite a friend over, asking about their family is the most basic step.
No one in this neighborhood had ever asked her about her father. She wasn’t prepared. She herself had never even asked her mother.
What should I say? What do I say?
“Please have a seat. I’ll bring the clothes soon.”
Led to a room down the hall, Junyoung plopped into a chair the moment Ms. Kim left. The spacious room had a terrace, offering a view of the summer landscape from atop the hill.
But it wasn’t as green as she imagined. Maybe it was the thick clouds. The pale-colored leaves fluttered limply in the breeze.
Why is it that something so casually said by others becomes a weakness for me?
Clenching her fists, Junyoung bit her lip. She didn’t want to be looked down on—not by that woman, and not by Na Seungwoon.
The door clicked open. Junyoung stood up quickly, startled to see it was the woman herself entering, holding clothes in her hand.
“I thought of something that might suit you. Try this on. It shouldn’t be uncomfortable.”
“Thank you.”
Junyoung accepted the clothes and began unbuttoning her blouse—but paused. The woman wasn’t leaving. Instead, she strolled to the terrace.
Might as well get changed quickly then.
“I think I made a mistake earlier. I didn’t sleep well, and my head’s a bit foggy.”
Seeing the woman’s back, Junyoung furrowed her brow as she unfastened the buttons. What mistake is she talking about?
“Your father isn’t around, is he? And—”
Her motion stopped just as she was about to put on the new shirt.
“—your mother doesn’t seem entirely sane, either.”
The woman slowly turned around. Junyoung, standing in just her bra, couldn’t even think to cover herself.
“How admirable.”
Never before had Junyoung seen a smile that inflicted such humiliation. Her shoulders began to tremble.
The woman stepped closer.
“I like girls like you. Children who rise up from horrible family circumstances—they can be young, but they have qualities I respect. I find it fulfilling to support kids like you. Some might call it a social responsibility of the privileged, but I—”
Now standing directly in front of her, the woman looked blankly at Junyoung’s thin shoulders.
“—prefer to call it a privilege.”
Her mind went foggy. She couldn’t understand what she was hearing.
“Try the shirt on, will you?”
Only then did Junyoung realize she was half-naked. Face flushing, she hurried to put her arms through the shirt. Her hands trembled, struggling with the buttons, but she tried to appear composed.
But the moment she saw the woman’s satisfied smile, she knew something was wrong. Looking down at herself, Junyoung’s expression hardened.
It was the same shirt worn by the staff working in the house.
“It suits you. Wear that when you leave.”
She clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms. The woman’s serene smile weighed down on her shoulders.
“Say it.”
Pushing against the pressure, Junyoung opened her mouth. Her tongue felt stiff, but she lifted her head high.
“You invited me here because you had something to say.”
The woman’s brow twitched. She smiled more deeply, crossing her arms.
“Are you interested in my son?”
“No.”
“Then why do I keep hearing about you?”
Though her lips were smiling, her eyes were stone cold. Junyoung didn’t look away.
“Because your son is interested in me.”
The woman’s faint chuckle turned into a scowl. Junyoung could tell she had struck a nerve.
“My son would put a newspaper over a stray dog caught in the rain. But anyone with intelligence should know the difference between basic human decency and affection.”
Wow. Did she just compare me to a stray dog?
“True.”
Her clenched fists trembled, but her lips moved smoothly.
“So did you invite me because you couldn’t tell the difference yourself?”
For a moment, all humor vanished from the woman’s beautiful face. Then her hand sliced the air.
Junyoung reflexively flinched and covered her head.
But no slap came. Instead, the woman plucked a thread from Junyoung’s shoulder.
“I like your spirit, but you should learn to manage that mouth.”
Her tone was colder but less biting. Junyoung blinked.
“If you want to climb higher, that is.”
Her shoulders ached from being so tense. She looked up as the woman turned.
“If you need money, I’ll give it to you. Clothes? A place to stay? All possible. If you become a scholarship student with our foundation, you’ll see a world far beyond this one. Of course—”
The woman tilted her head with graceful poise.
“—that’s only if you never forget the fundamental difference between you and Seungwoon.”
Junyoung understood almost everything the woman meant.
That line was a barrier, a warning. The woman was ensuring that even if Junyoung claimed no interest in Seungwoon, she’d never get too close.
There was a sweet carrot—but also a line that could never be crossed. It sounded like she was offering wings, but those wings were clipped before the flight even began.
All she could do was flutter in a slightly nicer cage.
Still, what if she really, desperately needed that carrot?
Even knowing it was a trap—should she take the hand offered?
Which life is more humiliating?
The woman’s carefully aimed insult wrapped around Junyoung like mist. Gritting her teeth, she clenched her fist again.
“Your name, please.”
“What?”
The woman raised an eyebrow. Junyoung raised her head.
“I don’t want to remember you just as ‘Seungwoon’s mother’ or ‘that lady.’”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, her lips slowly curling into a smile. Rain began to pour outside, the steady drumming sound echoing from the terrace.
—
5
It’s raining.
Beomjin, lying on his bed, raised his head. He could hear the pattering of raindrops.
For once, he didn’t feel like eating. The rain made his body feel even more sluggish.
He chuckled, remembering how Junyoung had scolded him for flopping onto the bed, saying it might collapse.
…Is she eating well?
Last night, wandering around aimlessly, he passed by Seungwoon’s house. Even in the dark, the blue-tiled roof looked luxurious.
When the sun rose, the first light touched the left rooftop, revealing the house in gentle hues. Through the second-floor window, curtains open, he could just barely glimpse inside. Likely, the interior was just as fancy.
Wiping dew from his arms, he returned to the storage house. He’d stayed awake all night but hadn’t been able to sleep. His mind was too alert.
Even now, Beomjin lay awake.
Clicking his tongue, he jumped from the bed and ran down the stairs. It always felt like Junyoung would be chattering behind him.
Too many thoughts. Time to work out.
He threw off his shirt and began pushups on the floor.
“His mother’s a beauty.”
Say that, and Junyoung would probably deck him with her spicy punch.
“She hits you a lot. Want me to show you how to knock someone out clean? Not that it always works.”
Yeah, same outcome either way.
Sweat slid from his cheek to his chin as he kept pumping. His body was heating up, but he didn’t stop.
Too many thoughts. Too much energy. This wasn’t working. With a sigh, he stood up.
It was raining hard. Maybe a run would help.
Just as he reached for his shirt, the door burst open.
“…Yoon Junyoung.”
To be continued…
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