Chapter 03
“Unni, please don’t misunderstand. It’s not like that. Oppa and I aren’t that kind of—”
Naeun trailed off, breaking into sobs.
Fortunately, Seoyoung managed to avoid falling in an unsightly heap and steadied her swaying body. This time, she let out a deep sigh openly. A faint irritation laced her once-calm tone.
“What misunderstanding would I have? Siblings can celebrate a birthday together. I said this was a mistake from the secretary’s office—”
“Stop it!”
Han Seoha cut her off with a growl. Though he lightly pushed away Naeun, who was practically clinging to him, she remained firmly pressed against his chest.
Here we go again.
His gaze turned toward Seoyoung, subtly studying her expression.
This time she couldn’t help biting her lip, then quickly releasing it. For a moment, she thought she heard her mother’s voice—“Your lips!”
Ah… how tiresome.
Seoyoung squeezed her eyes shut briefly and took a breath, then turned back toward them.
She smiled sweetly at Han Seoha, who looked ready to bare his teeth, and at Naeun, now fully nestled in his arms.
“In the past, I was the one who felt sorry. I didn’t realize Naeun still cared so much. What should I do?”
This wasn’t what they had expected. They must have thought she would storm out—or cause a scene like a madwoman.
She saw Naeun’s trembling shoulders stiffen.
“I don’t have misunderstandings like that anymore. A dirty scandal between siblings? That makes no sense.”
She emphasized each syllable of dirty. Naeun’s hands curled into fists. Yet her shoulders continued trembling in Seoha’s embrace.
Seoyoung let out a small, mocking laugh.
The more that foolish girl hid behind the shield of “siblings,” the further she would drift from what she truly wanted.
Like a magnanimous adult, Seoyoung smiled kindly at her.
“Calm down and enjoy your cake with your brother. If it’s too late to return to the dorm, you can stay at the house. It’s your home too, after all.”
This time, Seoha’s shoulders stiffened.
After that incident, Seoyoung had been overly reluctant to let Naeun come to the house.
And yet…
Seoha’s sharp eyes scanned her calm face. His lips parted as if to say something. Sensing the shift instantly, Naeun burrowed deeper into his chest.
“N-no. I’ll go back to the dorm. Oppa, we don’t have to have the birthday party. I just… want to go back.”
No one was trying to devour her, yet she looked like a fawn fleeing a hunter.
And once again, Seoha fell for it without resistance.
“I’ll take you.”
Naeun leaned into him, and he wrapped an arm around her as though supporting her.
Seoyoung had intended to leave first with dignity, but the two of them passed her and opened the door ahead of her.
Only then did a crack appear on Seoyoung’s face—one so subtle that no one would notice without looking closely.
Trying her best not to limp, she followed them out. The manager, who had been waiting, quickly approached and draped her coat over her shoulders.
Observant as ever, he examined her carefully.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
At that moment, Naeun—who was almost being carried by Seoha—turned her head.
“Unni…”
Again. Always trailing off mid-sentence. What would her face look like if Seoyoung, in her mother’s firm tone, said, “You must finish what you start.”
Lost in that useless thought, Seoyoung noticed Seoha glance back at her as well.
“Go home first.”
The cold command fell from his lips.
Home? Whose home?
Was Yeonhaedang my home?
There was nowhere in the world that was Seoyoung’s home anymore. Not since her mother died.
The realization struck her suddenly, leaving her momentarily dazed.
As she stood there, Naeun’s lips curved in a faint smirk. Childish and petty, yet maddeningly effective. A look Seoyoung had grown tired of.
“There’s only one left now.”
Watching their retreating figures, Seoyoung turned away without hesitation.
A week earlier — her mother’s death anniversary.
It had already been five years, yet she still couldn’t grow used to the face in the photograph.
While Seoyoung sat motionless before the memorial table, staring at the picture like a statue, the household staff bustled about in panic.
First, the chairman and the elder madam had been calling for a week to ensure the family ceremony went smoothly—and yet the company’s representative had failed to attend.
Second, even the secretary’s office had no idea where that representative was.
Since Han Seoha had assumed his position, nothing like this had ever happened. The chief secretary rushed all the way to the main house.
For three hours now, Seoha’s phone had been unreachable.
Had something happened?
Resentment turned into worry; worry into anxiety. As her neatly folded fingers trembled on her lap—
At 11 p.m., a call finally came to the chief secretary, who hadn’t even gone home.
The house had been so silent that a pin drop could be heard—everyone mindful of Seoyoung, sitting stiffly with concern.
Through the receiver, Seoha’s indifferent voice echoed.
[Daejeon. It’s nothing serious, so go home.]
A faint, pained sound escaped Seoyoung’s lips before she could stop it.
Daejeon.
There was only one reason.
Kang Naeun. The sister who wasn’t really his sister.
For a man who rarely drove himself to rush out without even informing his office—and to go to where she was.
Did that woman know what day it was?
She probably did.
She knew, with unsettling precision, exactly how to drive Seoyoung insane.
“You have to give everything three chances. Only then will you know if you truly dislike it or like it.”
Whenever Seoyoung complained about going to academy lessons, or learning dance, or playing piano, her mother would say that. Endure it three times.
I’ll give you three chances, Han Seoha.
Ignoring the worried glances of the household staff at Yeonhaedang, Seoyoung approached the memorial table and lit the candles.
For the five years of love, devotion, and patience I’ve given you, at least show the bare minimum of courtesy.
Exactly three times.
Even my tedious love deserves that much.
So, as Mother said—three chances.
I’ll give them to you.
And that day, he never came home.
Did he know that the first chance had slipped away so meaninglessly?
In the car, Seoyoung looked down at her shoes and dress.
Ill-fitting shoes. A dress that didn’t suit her. They looked like worn rags.
The expectations she had carefully built up all day, ever since seeing the red shoe box like a Christmas gift, collapsed in an instant.
She should have guessed—from the moment she thought Han Seoha was acting out of character.
Le Garden?
He probably didn’t even know a restaurant by that name existed.
“I’m so sick of this.”
Kang Naeun, who charged at Han Seoha like a moth to a flame. And Han Seoha, foolishly standing by under the excuse of “she’s my sister.”
She was truly tired of it.
Kang Naeun—only twenty-three—what was she thinking?
Did she really love him?
Seoyoung slowly shook her head.
At first, she thought it was simple jealousy. A sister sulking because her brother had been taken away. Like those sister-in-law dramas on TV.
Her in-laws were dignified people. If the younger sister acted up a little, what of it?
But as if mocking Seoyoung’s naivety, Kang Naeun resorted to methods too vile to even speak of.
She scattered words and actions before Seoyoung like bait—things that could easily be interpreted differently.
So that whatever it was would grow and grow in Seoyoung’s mind.
So that she would waver.
So that, exhausted from wavering, she would eventually fall away on her own.
And Seoyoung was, little by little, falling away.
