At Ha-young’s words, Misuk’s expression soured. Looking at Han Na-Eun always stirred an uneasy knot in her stomach. Since she had refused her request for a three-million-won loan not long ago, she was terrified that any encounter might lead to another demand for money. She felt a deep, irrational reluctance to face her.
“Why are you telling me to do it? You do it.”
Misuk said bluntly, avoiding her daughter’s gaze with an air of annoyance.
Ha-young pouted and retorted.
“Mom, really. She doesn’t answer my calls.”
Misuk nodded, a bitter sigh escaping her lips.
“Hey, she doesn’t answer my calls either.”
Ha-young snorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Acting like she’s something special just because she’s raising a kid.”
Misuk bristled, glaring at Ha-young.
“Hey, what do you mean, ‘just raising a kid’? Do you have any idea how hard that is? Do you know how much I struggled when I raised you?”
Ha-young rolled her eyes and snapped back.
“Stop it. Mom, whose side are you on? Mine or Han Na-Eun’s?”
Misuk shook her head, irritation mounting.
“It’s not about sides. I’m just saying it isn’t easy work.”
Ha-young bit her lip, her face twisted in frustration.
“So what? Even if it isn’t easy, can’t she at least introduce a representative to her sister? We’ve lived together all this time.”
Misuk replied in a low, defeated voice.
“Fine. I’ll try contacting her.”
Ha-young glared at her mother’s tepid reaction and muttered under her breath.
“If she doesn’t answer, I’ve got my own ideas.”
Misuk was startled by the threat, but lacking the energy to argue, she turned her head away, feigning indifference.
* * *
Since the afternoon, Han Na-Eun had been deliberately ignoring calls from her sister and mother. After her encounter with Ha-young at the amusement park, she had resolved to stop picking up. It was all too obvious that Ha-young intended to leverage their connection for some kind of favor regarding Choi Kang-Woo.
Ha-young’s entire career as an entertainer had been built on making such requests. Knowing that, Han Na-Eun had no desire to play along. She let out a long sigh; she knew she couldn’t avoid them forever, and the feeling that something troublesome was brewing sat heavy in her chest.
“Minho, Jiho. Did you brush your teeth?”
“Yes! We brushed, brush, brush!”
“Did you brush too, Minho?”
“Yes.”
Minho rarely initiated conversation, but he answered questions clearly. Occasionally, he would volunteer his own thoughts, which was why Han Na-Eun accompanied him to every counseling session.
It was a small mercy that she was gradually growing closer to him.
* * *
In the Main Building, Choi Kyung-Hye clutched her phone, her expression frayed. The winter scenery outside the window was stunning, but her focus was entirely on the call.
“I know you’re in Korea. If you’ve arrived, why are you staying at a hotel instead of coming home?”
Choi Kyung-Hye’s voice climbed, thick with disappointment.
“Do I have to hear about your life only through your father?”
Kang-Hyuk’s voice remained calm on the other end.
—I asked people not to let the main house know I had entered Seoul.
Choi Kyung-Hye furrowed her brows, her frustration visible.
“Why would you do that? They’d find out eventually. Did I do something wrong to you? They say you’re on good terms with your father.”
A brief silence followed before Kang-Hyuk spoke, his tone heavy.
—Is there anything that could ever go wrong between Mother and me?
Choi Kyung-Hye sighed.
“Then don’t tell me you’re doing this because you don’t want to see your son?”
She asked, her voice heavy with pressure. Part of her was terrified that his distance was exactly that—a rejection of the child.
Kang-Hyuk’s voice was low and strained.
—It’s not that I don’t want to; it’s that I’m afraid.
Choi Kyung-Hye let out an exasperated breath.
“You’re so spineless. What is there to be afraid of in seeing a five-year-old?”
Kang-Hyuk offered no answer. Choi Kyung-Hye felt the weight of his silence, an agony that stretched out between them until it became unbearable.
“Do you remember what I told you? Minho is getting better. He greets people, he talks to his Live-in Tutor, and he plays with his friends. He even went to an amusement park.”
—Really?
“Yes. He even brought back a huge balloon. It’s still in the living room. So don’t be afraid; come and see him. He might be happy to see his dad.”
Again, Kang-Hyuk remained silent.
“What on earth happened? What caused the child to fall into Selective Mutism, and why are you so terrified of your own son? I’ll only know if you tell me. You should find a counselor and talk about it.”
After a pause, Kang-Hyuk replied cautiously.
—I’ll go once. Since you say he’s doing better, I want to see him, too.
Choi Kyung-Hye beamed.
“Yes. That’s how it should be. I’ll tell Choi Kang-Woo to come home early that day. He’s finally starting to shed his workaholic ways.”
—That’s a relief. I’ll visit soon.
“Don’t say ‘soon.’ Who knows your schedule if not you? You’re a meticulous man. Check your calendar now and clear an evening. When can you come?”
—…The day after tomorrow. I’ll go the day after tomorrow.
At his words, Choi Kyung-Hye smiled, confirmed the plans, and hung up. What had happened to make Minho that way? And worse, why was the father so paralyzed by fear? It was a truly baffling situation.
* * *
It was late. Choi Kang-Woo opened the front door and stepped inside as quietly as possible. The house was still; the children were surely asleep, and after such a long day, Han Na-Eun would likely be deep in rest as well.
He had stayed out late to clean up the mess left by Director Son Young-Seok. He and Dowan had spent hours dismantling the trail of corruption, and though Dowan had grumbled about the complexity of the instructions, they had finished it together.
It was 1:00 AM. After a quick wash upstairs, Choi Kang-Woo crept down for water. He drank in the shadows, then carefully opened the door to Han Na-Eun’s room. Moonlight bathed the space in a soft glow, illuminating her face as she slept.
Choi Kang-Woo leaned over the bed, his exhaustion vanishing the moment he looked at her. The way two people could silently permeate each other’s lives held a quiet, overwhelming power. Returning from the corporate battlefield to the gentle warmth of her presence felt like arriving in a different world.
He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her forehead but pulled his hand back, clenching it into a fist.
He shouldn’t wake her. He knew better than anyone the grueling schedule she maintained. Even though she lived here, it was still a workplace to her—a home where she stayed for money. He felt a sudden, sharp fear that he might be nothing more than an employer in her eyes.
He began to pull his hand away, but suddenly, her soft fingers curled over his.
“When did you arrive?”
Han Na-Eun blinked awake, her eyes crinkling into half-moons as she smiled at him. To have someone smile at him even upon waking—it felt miraculous. Instead of answering, Choi Kang-Woo leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. She met the gesture with warmth and passion.
Han Na-Eun draped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. As the kiss deepened, he climbed onto the bed, their bodies finding a natural, magnetic alignment. In the quiet of the night, they held each other as if to stave off the chill of the world outside.
After a long while, Han Na-Eun lightly stroked his forehead.
“It’s very late. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“It still feels like a dream. Are you sure I’m not still asleep?”
Choi Kang-Woo chuckled softly.
“To me, the fact that a woman like you exists… it’s all like a dream.”
“You know that’s incredibly cheesy, right?”
“Is it?”
He smirked, pulling her into a tighter embrace.
“There was a personnel reshuffle today. I demoted an employee who had been engaged in corruption.”
Han Na-Eun’s voice dropped, soft and serious.
“That must be upsetting in many ways. Especially for two reasons.”