Yeonwoo’s footsteps dragged, as if her limbs were anchored by invisible weights.
‘As long as I’m awake and breathing, there will never be a twist of fate. “Working in my mother’s place”—what a load of nonsense. With wrists as thin as toothpicks, what kind of labor could I possibly provide?’
It was an outcome she hadn’t anticipated. She had assumed that if a daughter offered to step in for her injured mother, they would naturally accept.
No, it wasn’t even about them accepting; her desire to stay at Domyeongjae was so desperate that the point-blank rejection left her hollow.
She drifted away from the main building, her feet wandering wherever the path led. She didn’t bother to check if the route she took back was the one she had come in on; she simply followed the road as it opened before her.
What do I do now? How can I fix this?
“If you keep going that way, you’ll be heading quite far from the exit.”
Just as despair began to buckle her knees, the voice cut through the air.
Startled, Yeonwoo spun around. The setting sun caught the man from behind, obscuring his features in a golden, blinding haze, and she narrowed her eyes against the glare. Despite the logical impossibility of it, a creeping, primal terror took hold—what if he were someone sent by Cha Yoonseok?
“If you’re lost, I can help you.”
As the clouds shifted, his face emerged from the backlight. It was the man from that morning. Just as he had appeared through the fog earlier, his expression remained polite, yet fundamentally hollow.
Ah. Yeonwoo jolted back to her senses, taking a few shaky steps away from him. She glanced toward the main building, trying to reorient herself against the path she had traversed.
She should have turned right. Realizing she had overshot the exit, she turned back to face Seongheon.
“No, thank you. I was lost in thought and missed the turn. I know the way out.”
Seongheon didn’t reply immediately. He looked toward the main building, scanning the same path she had just walked, before his gaze settled back on her.
Whenever their eyes locked, her pupils stung, as if she were staring at something hazardous. Neither of them looked away.
“We seem to be acquaintances, yet I find myself wondering: what brings you to Domyeongjae?”
He already knew the details from Manager Moon, yet the question escaped his lips regardless.
“I came to see Manager Moon Ok-rye. I had something to deliver to her, and something to say.”
“Is your business finished?”
“It seems so.”
The answer was ambiguous. Neither a ‘yes’ nor a ‘no,’ just an evasive, “it seems so.” Seongheon tilted his head.
She wasn’t lost, and her purpose for visiting wasn’t exactly unclear, yet for some reason, he found himself compelled to dig deeper.
“Does ‘it seems so’ mean you weren’t able to fully convey what you came to tell Manager Moon?”
“……”
When he pressed further, Yeonwoo pressed her lips into a thin, white line. A war raged in her mind: should she ask him for a favor?
Nam Seongheon. A member of the Nam family and the Master of Domyeongjae.
If it were him, couldn’t he grant her plea?
“Um, excuse me. If, by any chance…”
The words spilled out before she could check them. Seongheon’s eyebrows arched slightly.
As he watched her with a persistent, predatory focus—waiting for the next word to drop—Yeonwoo swallowed hard. She wanted to use the morning’s trivial incident as a pretext, to tell him she didn’t need compensation, just the opportunity to work—but the words caught in her throat like jagged glass.
She couldn’t speak; it was overwhelming enough just to meet his eyes.
“Take your time. We have plenty of time.”
Wondering just how much of her fractured state was written on her face to warrant such an offer, Yeonwoo steadied her resolve. Like a rider gripping the reins of a runaway horse, she shook her head.
“No. Thinking about it, what I needed wasn’t time, but dignity.”
“……”
“I’ll be going now. Goodbye.”
She turned on her heel. He was not a person to harbor hope for, nor was this a situation that allowed for it.
“So, does that mean your business at Domyeongjae is finished by taking your dignity with you?”
Yeonwoo stopped. She let out a controlled breath and squared her shoulders. Because it sounded like a warning never to return to Domyeongjae, she felt a sudden, sharp urge to stand her ground.
“Yes. It’s finished. Goodbye.”
After the farewell, she stepped away. The soft *sapa-sapak* of footsteps on soil followed her, and Seongheon stood rooted, watching her go.
The scent of ivory magnolia drifted to the tip of his nose.
It felt like an ending.
*
After arriving at her mother’s hospital room, it wasn’t until late at night that Yeonwoo tried to rest on the folding cot for guardians. But as it had been lately, she was hunted in her dreams by a man with a blackened face. Once he caught her, his rake-like fingers shredded her clothes.
*If you die, I’ll let you go.*
*If you die, I’ll let you go.*
*If you die, I’ll let you go.*
*Huck!* Yeonwoo lunged awake with a gasp. Her breath, held in the throes of sleep, erupted in ragged heaves. Watching her mother, who lay fast asleep, Yeonwoo clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the terror rising in her throat, tears streaming down her face.
Instinctively, she pulled her collar tight to cover her phantom-torn clothes. Terrified that the sound of her sobbing might wake the room, she slipped out of the ward without even putting on her slippers. Squatting in the corner of a shadowed hospital hallway, she vomited out endless sobs born of pure dread.
*If you die, I’ll let you go.*
The fragile sanity she had fought to preserve dissolved in the predawn light, leaving her mind drifting.
It felt as though she would never escape Cha Yoonseok, not until the day she died. Yeonwoo hunched her shoulders, crushed by a formless, looming shadow.
“Please save me… Help me, please…”
The monologue spiraled, a desperate prayer to anyone—to no one—who might listen.
She knew the rest of this night would be long and agonizing. She wouldn’t be able to sleep again, nor would she be able to find peace.
Just as I was yesterday.
Just as I was a month ago.
*
The next day, morning dawned at Domyeongjae.
Seongheon’s uncle and aunt had returned to Seoul late last night, leaving only Seongheon to unpack his belongings for his month-long stay. It was a rare event for him to visit outside of ancestral rites, and it had been a very long time since he had stayed more than a day.
The house needed no alarms to signal the day. The morning at Domyeongjae arrived in a cacophony of birdsong and distant rooster crows, all perfectly synchronized.
Having finished his morning ablutions, Seongheon stood before the mirror and tightened his tie. He preferred the Windsor knot, and he smoothed the silk until the symmetry was perfect.
His hands paused. A memory from yesterday surfaced: the woman at the bus stop, then again by the lakeside.
Seeing her inside a private residence where outsiders were restricted was not a typical occurrence.
No. What else could it be, if not unusual? It felt almost like fate.
*‘Thinking about it, what I needed wasn’t time, but dignity.’*
Standing motionless before the mirror, Seongheon let out a dry, mocking laugh and tightened his tie once more.
It was a mere coincidence that she was the daughter of a long-time employee; it wasn’t a connection worth pondering at this hour.
Dressed impeccably, Seongheon packed his briefcase. As he walked down the cypress-lined hallway, he noticed the staff busy sweeping away the petals that had fallen overnight.
“Good morning, Managing Director.”
“Did you sleep well, Managing Director?”
Seongheon passed them, acknowledging the staff with a brief, light bow. The house had been filled only with employees, but the return of a member of the Nam family after such a long time had brought a palpable sense of tension.
Even his casual stride felt sharp, upright. The workers stopped their sweeping, stealing glances at his retreating back.
At the time of Gogu, when the grains finally grow lush, the Master of Domyeongjae had returned.
*
“I will prepare your meal right away, Managing Director.”
When he entered the main building, Manager Moon was waiting. Seongheon took his seat at the table.
Manager Moon had prepared chestnut porridge, knowing Seongheon preferred something warm for his stomach in the mornings.
As Seongheon took a spoonful, his expression remained unreadable. Manager Moon stood by, watching, and as Seongheon finished without complaint, the manager let out a quiet sigh of relief.
It was to his taste.
“There are no decent restaurants near the construction site. We will prepare your meals on time from our kitchen.”
“Forget it. I’ll just eat something with the staff. Don’t worry about it.”
When Seongheon refused with a short remark, Manager Moon waved his hands emphatically.
“Oh my, ‘something’? That won’t do. Providing for your meals and rest is the primary duty of Domyeongjae. Please, don’t worry about it and attend to your business; I will have it ready on time. We will take responsibility for the staff’s meals as well, so please rest easy.”
The construction site was a barren field, and Manager Moon had decided to resolve the workers’ hunger within the walls of Domyeongjae. He was notoriously fastidious about food and had blocked any private contractors from moving in.
Since the manager insisted on handling the workers’ meals, Seongheon didn’t press the matter.
He had eaten three or four spoonfuls of porridge when another employee approached Manager Moon and whispered in his ear. It was the same employee who had delivered the news of her mother’s accident to Yeonwoo via the house phone yesterday.
“Manager. Yeonwoo hasn’t left. She’s still standing outside. I’m not sure if it’s okay to keep her waiting like that.”
Manager Moon shot the employee an irritated look, signaling him to be silent.
“Quiet. Didn’t I tell you not to let her near the house until the Managing Director leaves?”
He didn’t want anything to disturb the Managing Director’s breakfast.
“What is the matter?”
Seongheon picked up a napkin to wipe his mouth. Manager Moon straightened, looking nervous.
“It is nothing of importance, sir. You need not concern yourself.”
“What is the matter?”
At the second question, the employee standing next to the manager quickly cut in.
“The daughter of the employee who was injured yesterday has been waiting since the crack of dawn. She says she must speak with you, Managing Director.”
“Tell her to come in.”
Seongheon swallowed a sip of water and set the cup down. Manager Moon shook his head slightly.
“After you leave for work, I will go out and meet her. You are a busy man; please don’t trouble yourself with such trivial matters…”
“I didn’t know this before.”
Seongheon dropped his napkin onto the table with a *thud*.
“Manager Moon, you have a talent for making me repeat the same thing twice.”
He looked up at the manager. For a moment, Manager Moon went silent. Seongheon tilted his head at a sharp angle.
“Tell her to come in.”
“Yes, Managing Director.”
“I will hear what she has to say myself.”
“Understood, Managing Director.”
As Manager Moon retreated under the weight of Seongheon’s authority, the Managing Director finished his meal.
*‘Thinking about it, what I needed wasn’t time, but dignity.’*
I need to hear what that “dignity” was, exactly. What she thought she had taken with her when she threw it away. Just what on earth was she planning to say?
At the entrance of Domyeongjae, Yeonwoo had been loitering for three hours.