Chapter 05
The middle-aged woman known as Sangan-daek had been the housekeeper ever since Kang Dasom first entered this house.
In fact, there wasn’t a single thing in the Hansungdong family estate that hadn’t passed through her hands.
Not exactly a welcoming face.
Sangan-daek knew exactly whose favor she needed to curry in order to survive in this household. So it was only natural that she had tacitly dismissed Dasom from the start.
“There’s more in the trunk. Bring them up to my room.”
“All of this?”
At the sudden request, Sangan-daek’s eyes widened in surprise. The wide-open trunk was stuffed with luxury-brand boxes worth tens of millions of won at a glance.
Before Dasom could even answer, Yoon Seonghun raised his voice.
“What’s this? Are you crazy, ajumma? If I tell you to carry them, just do it. Why are you running your mouth?”
“She probably got flustered because we came down in such a rush. It’s fine.”
Her gentle tone calmed him, and Seonghun reluctantly closed his mouth. He didn’t even bother glancing at the housekeeper again.
“Hey, why are you snapping at the maid the moment we arrive?”
Kang Youngjun, who had been playing night golf in the yard, came to the entrance.
He was Dasom’s half-brother—and also Seonghun’s high school friend.
It was Youngjun who had recommended Seonghun to Dasom and proposed their arranged marriage.
Having been scolded by Seonghun, Sangan-daek stood hesitantly, staring at the mountain of designer boxes unloaded from the car. She cautiously addressed Dasom.
“Surely… you didn’t buy all of this?”
Dasom gave a small, amused laugh at the question she already knew the answer to. The derisive smile made Sangan-daek swallow hard.
She had watched Dasom since she was young. The Dasom she knew was the kind of girl who would blush and shrink back even if someone insisted on buying her something.
“Can’t you see for yourself?”
The sharp tone made her flinch again. Sangan-daek had managed to last in this household for so long only thanks to her careful diplomacy.
She knew full well that Dasom had always been treated coldly here—and she had subtly treated her the same.
But things are different now.
Dasom would have her revenge, in one way or another, on all those who had once dismissed her.
“You heard what my brother said, right?”
“…”
“Don’t argue. Understood?”
Her black eyes, unreadable in depth, bore down on Sangan-daek. Pride wounded, she still found herself bowing her head.
“Forgive me, Miss Dasom.”
Sangan-daek called the other helpers and began hauling the things from the car.
Leaning on his golf club, Kang Youngjun openly looked Dasom up and down. She was still wearing the outfit from the department store.
“Ha, he dressed you exactly to his taste.”
“Why? Don’t you like it?”
“Why ask me?”
Youngjun flicked his eyes toward her, signaling for an answer.
“I like it.”
“You don’t have to lie.”
“If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t wear it.”
“Fair point.”
“Hey, why are you fussing over your sister’s clothes? If you care so much, maybe you should’ve bought her some yourself, with all that money you rake in.”
“Stay for coffee.”
“I’ve got to head to the club—forget it. Anyway, just treat Dasom well.”
Seonghun slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She said nothing and let herself lean into him.
“Anyone looking would think she’s some abandoned sister. If you’re not staying for coffee, get lost.”
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving. Dasom, I’ll call you once I’m home, alright?”
“Yes. Drive safe.”
Seonghun’s car roared noisily down the slope. The massive gates closed, and Dasom turned back.
Bright lights from the ground illuminated Youngjun.
He was no different from Seonghun.
“Seonghun may have a foul mouth, but he’s not a bad guy.”
“Yes.”
“Have you slept with him yet?”
Her lips felt parched. The glare of the lights made her squint her eyes shut for a moment before she forced them open.
“Yes.”
Youngjun needed Seonghun in order to become chairman. And for that, he sold Dasom.
But what did it matter? In the end, Seonghun was pushed aside by his older brother Yoon Jihwan, and Youngjun lost the chairman seat to an illegitimate child.
“Do you need anything?”
“A car.”
“You don’t even have a license.”
“I’ll get one. Just buy me a nice one.”
“Fine. Got it. Go on.”
“Yes.”
Not long after Dasom went upstairs, Sangan-daek appeared in the garden.
“Ajumma.”
“Yes, Director.”
“From now on, be good to Dasom.”
“…”
“And don’t give her attitude like earlier in front of Seonghun. Makes me look bad, you hear?”
“I’m sorry, Director. I’ll correct myself.”
“Go.”
Face flushed, she bowed repeatedly.
Boxes piled up in front of the room. Dasom told Sangan-daek to move only the contents into the dressing room and throw the boxes away. Perhaps because of Youngjun’s earlier words, the housekeeper showed no expression.
“Oh, that box.”
“Yes?”
“That’s a L’Ermang bag. New release.”
“Yes. Where should I put it?”
“Take it.”
She despised the woman—but Dasom needed to win her favor.
You’re going to steal from this house and run abroad anyway, aren’t you?
In her previous life, Sangan-daek had posed as Madam Seo, the lady of the house, and swindled several people out of huge investments before fleeing to America.
UL Group never pressed charges or pursued her—because the moment they did, she threatened to expose all of the family’s darkest secrets.
In the end, she’d secured a comfortable nest egg late in life.
A rotten household anyway.
What did it matter if it rotted a little more?
“I’m sorry, miss. I appreciate the thought, but I can’t accept it. If Madam finds out…”
“Then throw it away.”
Dasom said her piece and went into her room. As soon as the door closed, Sangan-daek immediately tore open the bag’s box.
Dasom lay down on the bed. The room was devoid of the warmth of human life.
Her tiny childhood home with her mother—a memory now hazy—had been far more comforting than this.
She stretched her hand toward the unreachable white ceiling. Not the wrinkled hands from her last days, but soft, pale ones.
“I really have come back.”
All day, she had felt like she was dreaming. Even now, reality seemed unreal. Though fatigue pulled her eyelids down, she was afraid to sleep—afraid that if she woke again, she would return to that hell.
Her gaze caught a pair of ballet shoes abandoned in the corner.
After marrying Seonghun, she had never once danced ballet. By the time of her death, her body had forgotten ballet—but her mind never had.
How much I had to give up.
Standing in the middle of the room, she slowly rose onto her toes. She put in her earbuds and pressed play.
As the soft melody seeped into her body, her delicate form twirled as if freed from gravity.
Her extended toes traced flawless lines in the air. Sweat ran, her breath quickened.
She moved without rest, as if punishing herself—until at last she felt alive.
Days passed.
Coming back to the past hadn’t made her life dramatically different overnight. But Dasom resolved to change things little by little.
One of those steps was getting her license.
When she passed and reported it, within a day she received car keys and a credit card from Team Leader Baek, courtesy of Youngjun. She’d expected only the car keys.
Dasom held up the credit card.
“This?”
“Director Kang said it’s for pocket money.”
In truth, Dasom had already received a credit card from Seonghun before Youngjun. She had been swiping it daily at the department store.
No surprise, then, that the news reached Youngjun’s ears.
“Tell him I said thank you.”
“Understood.”
Dasom, who had never indulged in luxury before, was now buying something almost every day. Soon, rumors spread quickly through the Hansungdong household.
That the future madam of Cheonmyeong Group had become unbearably haughty. That her frugal image had been a lie.
But the rumors didn’t last long—thanks to Sangan-daek.
Every time Dasom went shopping, she bought gifts for the housekeeper. Once, she even stuffed a bag full of cash, and the very next morning Sangan-daek brewed her coffee and personally gave her a wake-up call.
The only women in this household were Madam Seo, Dasom, and the youngest, Kang Ji-hye.
The youngest daughter was away at an international school in Jeju, showing her face only briefly during breaks. And Dasom had never lived a life of extravagance.
Compared to sneaking around to pilfer Seo Miyoung’s things, serving Dasom was much safer—and far more profitable.
She was a simple woman to read.
“Oh my, miss! You’re here? I’ve been waiting.”
“Sorry, traffic was bad, so I’m late.”
“That’s alright. I didn’t wait long. This way, please.”
What a good liar.
Dasom had deliberately arrived an hour late. But despite her tardiness, her dedicated seller, Manager Min, welcomed her with a warm smile.
“By the way, the necklace you ordered last time has arrived.”
