Chapter 29
Before we even learned how to speak properly—before we could fully understand words—we already knew we were different from our younger sibling.
Like a dirty leaf floating alone on the surface of a still lake, we had realized far too early that we would never blend in with them.
But no matter how sharp or quick a child may be, a child is still a child.
So, with tiny lips, we called out to the woman who always smiled so brightly.
[Mom.]
It was the first word we ever spoke, hoping that the beautiful, kind “stepmother” who never once looked our way would turn her eyes toward us.
But, as expected, nothing came back.
No response, no acknowledgment.
She had mistaken us for her own son for a second and turned her head—but never turned back.
[Dad.]
It was the same with our father, sitting right there beside her.
That was when we learned the truth—
that what protects you isn’t sadness, but joy.
And that joy isn’t something others give you—
it’s something you must seize for yourself.
[I’m alone.]
There’s no one to comfort me when I cry,
so I have to smile instead.
That way, no one will look down on me.
The desperate wishes and longings we shoved down into our chest only made us more radiant—beautiful in a way that left no room for emptiness, solid and unyielding.
“……”
But now—what was she supposed to do in a situation like this?
What kind of expression should she wear?
‘Why… why is Father here?’
The middle-aged man in a black suit had already noticed her. His expression, as always, was the same—blank, unreadable.
The face she had tried so hard not to recognize.
Go Kyung-cheol.
Go Woo-ri’s father.
“Ah.”
The unexpected appearance froze her in place for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure.
Then she realized—she had accidentally called him “Father.”
It had been soft, but loud enough for Yoon-jae to hear.
When she turned her head quickly, he was already looking down at her, his expression unreadable.
‘…Damn it.’
A flawless poker face—no clue what he was thinking.
While she was scrambling to find an excuse for her unintentional slip, Kyung-cheol was the one who broke the tension.
“I won’t bother asking why you’re here. We were never the kind to be glad to see each other, anyway.”
His voice, usually sharp and grating to the point of annoyance, sounded lower, subdued somehow.
In hindsight, it wasn’t strange for him to be here—only that their relationship wasn’t one where a father and daughter would meet out of affection.
His clouded eyes calmly studied the two of them.
“You look… well enough.”
Whether it was sincere or not was impossible to tell.
Sensing the intent behind Yoon-jae’s protective stance, Kyung-cheol gave a short, derisive laugh.
“No need to hide her. I don’t have the intention—or the strength—to do anything.”
He stepped closer, addressing the half-hidden woman directly.
“My daughter did something awful to you, didn’t she?”
“……”
“Foolish girl, doing that in front of everyone… tch. That temper of hers was always the problem.”
The public outburst, the cruel words—all had been her plan. She had wanted the scandal to spread, for the engagement to fall apart, for her to finally be able to leave.
Now, standing in front of Kyung-cheol, she took a step forward.
Thump, thump.
Her heart pounded, tangled in nerves and a thousand emotions she couldn’t name.
And memories came rushing back—
[Do you have a brain or not? You think that’ll calm things down? Just shut up and stay out there until I call you.]
[Get out, right now!]
It hadn’t been an unusually cruel conversation—just an ordinary one. The kind they always had.
A relationship with no affection, no warmth. Worse than strangers.
Even now, she felt no longing, no sorrow—
but she couldn’t pretend she felt nothing at all.
Her chest twisted tight.
“……”
After a brief silence, Kyung-cheol slipped a hand into his jacket.
“There’s something I wanted to ask.”
He stepped closer, pulling something out of his inner pocket and holding it out to her.
“This—does it belong to you?”
In his hand was a familiar ring.
The very ring she’d unintentionally taken from Ae-jung.
“How did you…”
Her voice faltered, eyes shaking. Kyung-cheol showed her the ring again.
“It was in my daughter’s hand. Looks like she took it from you. Am I right?”
“……Yes.”
She nodded stiffly, and he clicked his tongue.
“I suppose I can understand. Given the circumstances—and what’s happened now.”
Then his gaze shifted toward the small niche where he had been standing earlier.
Only then did she look fully at what was there.
Inside the glass, a white urn sat alone.
No photo.
No mementos.
Nothing but a name and a date engraved on its surface.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her heartbeat echoed like a hammer pounding inside her chest.
She wondered for a moment if she might collapse—or lose her mind entirely.
No one could predict how one might react to something like this.
But she didn’t fall apart.
She was strangely calm.
Maybe because it didn’t feel real.
Maybe because it felt like a dream.
No.
It was simply an eerie sense of acceptance—like her body had already decided to endure it.
“For a punishment over something as trivial as taking a ring… it’s too cruel,” Kyung-cheol murmured, following her gaze toward the urn.
She took a silent breath and looked at him.
‘Why are you here?’
It was the strangest question a dead daughter could ask her father.
She truly had no idea why he was there.
He had never cared for her, had remarried so quickly that, if not for the gossip of household staff, she might’ve believed her stepmother was her real mother.
They’d been purely formal—nothing more.
She had assumed she would never see him again after leaving Korea.
And she hadn’t missed him at all. Not one bit.
“Take it,” he said.
His calm voice cut through the air.
Her confusion quieted, and she bit her lip before reaching out.
She never imagined the ring she’d worn just before being attacked by that madman would find its way back here.
“……”
When their fingers brushed slightly, perhaps he felt her faint tremble. He seemed to want to say something—but stopped himself.
Then he simply walked past them and left.
They weren’t people who said goodbyes, after all.
The still, airless space suddenly felt cold.
The color had drained from her face again.
“Joo Ae-jung.”
Recognizing it, Yoon-jae called her name.
She lifted her head, startled out of her daze.
Then, after a long look, she tightened her fingers around the ring and said,
“I want to be alone.”
She knew it was selfish—but she needed it.
Yoon-jae didn’t argue. He looked once more at Go Woo-ri’s urn, then silently turned and walked away.
Step, step, step.
She listened until his footsteps faded completely, then exhaled a long, trembling breath.
When all sound had vanished, she stepped closer to the urn.
“……”
Her reflection stared back at her through the glass—almost as if her face were inside it.
She steadied her breathing and toyed with the ring in her hand.
Then whispered, barely audible—
“Hey… tell me something.”
The sound of her swallowing echoed loudly in her own ears.
“Are you… in there?”
Of course, it couldn’t be.
But she wanted to say it anyway.
It was a truth too heavy to tell anyone else.
“I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t wish for this, and I didn’t do anything. I don’t understand how something like this could happen—and no one can explain it.”
Even if they could, she’d probably be dragged away before she got the chance to listen.
She took another deep breath and forced herself to stand straight.
“Go Woo-ri.”
She laid a hand on the engraved name.
“I’m alive. And I’m going to keep living.”
Once she made that decision, there was nothing more to say.
She placed the flowers she’d brought before the urn and stepped back.
Then she glanced down at the ring Kyung-cheol had given her and let out a quiet, amused laugh.
“Guess you were destined to be mine after all.”
The ring she’d once taken from someone else had come full circle—back to her.
Or maybe it had found her on its own.
She gave a small, bittersweet smile and slipped the ring onto her left ring finger.
“…Huh?”
To her surprise, the ring that had always slipped right off fit perfectly now.
‘What the—?’
She blinked, startled—then remembered how much she’d been eating lately.
“Unbelievable.”
Well… maybe that extra weight finally paid off?
Even when she tried tugging it off again, it didn’t budge—as if glued there.
“Ugh, seriously…”
Even facing her own ashes, even in this heavy, sorrowful moment, she couldn’t help but sigh at herself.
She gave the glass one last light tap.
“I’m leaving now, Go Woo-ri.”
It was a short, almost casual farewell—
but who ever said there had to be rules about goodbyes?
Her eyes, clearer now, turned away without hesitation.
Leaving herself behind, she walked quickly out of the room.
Let’s go.
Toward a new life, a new routine, a new beginning.
And when she turned back down the path she had come from—
Clap!
