Chapter 17
She found out that Ha Yoon-jae had a woman at a gathering that wasn’t exactly pleasant to begin with.
The moment someone started with, “But by any chance…”, it was enough to make the two of them—the main subjects—into the evening’s gossip fodder.
[Oh dear, what’s our Mr. Ha going to do now?]
[How could something like that happen?]
The crowd’s sympathetic faces, thrilled with gossip disguised as concern, made her scoff inwardly.
How can they all be so alike?
But if she was being honest, she wasn’t much different in their eyes either.
To be truthful, she had never wanted to marry Yoon-jae in the first place.
So when she’d been racking her brain for an excuse to get out of the engagement, this “good news” had come along. Yet strangely, she couldn’t feel purely happy about it.
It wasn’t that she regretted it. But she couldn’t help feeling curious about the woman who had “stolen” her fiancé.
“Let’s get to know each other, then.”
To know the owner of this body she had taken.
She picked up a small key she hadn’t even known was in the wallet and fit it into the tiny lock on a diary.
Click.
What she thought was just a toy lock opened easily. She shrugged, then turned the first page.
That’s when she finally came face-to-face with Joo Ae-jung.
“Every day is the same. Another day starts, unchanged. Boring, empty, meaningless. I didn’t sleep well again.”
“Today’s weather—cloudy. No different from yesterday. I should stop by the bank. How much do I have left? I just want to sleep today.”
“Weather—clear. It rained at dawn. My account’s emptier than I thought. How am I supposed to get by this month? Oppa will be angry.”
The neat, cute handwriting captured Ae-jung’s quiet, private murmurs—words no one else would ever hear.
She hadn’t written every day, but once or twice a week she left behind short diary entries.
They read through the diary patiently, page after page of mundane, fragile little pieces of a life.
By about halfway through, the writing started to smudge slightly.
When she turned a page that was especially crumpled, she paused.
“Why am I still alive?”
The writing pressed down into the page, heavy with emotion. From there, the entries—no, pleas—continued without dates.
“Strange. Why did I open my eyes again today? I didn’t want to wake up.”
“I’m scared. Why does morning keep coming? Nothing ever changes, so why must I?”
“Someone, please let me rest. I’m so tired. I just want to sleep.”
“Dad. Mom. I miss you. I miss you so much. Please take me with you.”
Even without being a professional, she could tell these were signs of severe depression.
She flipped another page, staring down at her own wrist as if tracing invisible scars.
There was no way to know exactly what had caused this sadness, but the diary made it clear—it had a reason.
As the handwriting grew more erratic, she turned the page and froze when she saw familiar names.
“Ha Yoon-jae. Ha Yoon-jae. Ha Yoon-jae.
Go Woo-ri. Go Woo-ri. Go Woo-ri.”
There were no dates, but it was obvious these entries weren’t from long ago.
She lingered for a long moment over those two names pressed deep into the page, then turned again.
“I’m sorry.”
Another page.
“I’m really sorry.”
Another.
“I’m sorry.”
And again—
“It was my fault.”
It was an apology she had never heard, one she had never even imagined.
The sincere remorse of a fragile woman who couldn’t bear the guilt of taking what wasn’t hers.
She crossed her arms and sighed.
“You and I… how did it come to this?”
Her bitter murmur faded as she turned to the final page.
There, only one short line was written—
“I hope tomorrow never comes.”
The last dated entry in that diary was the day before Ha Yoon-jae and Joo Ae-jung’s wedding—
the day before Go Woo-ri died.
“……”
A strange, indescribable feeling washed over her.
She didn’t even know what kind of face to make in response to this odd emotion that couldn’t be explained.
When she checked the bankbook before coming home, it had 129,470 won left.
Two large deposits had already gone to pay off loans.
In other words, the price she had paid—her body, her guilt, her marriage—had already disappeared.
“Idiot.”
Even through the diary’s pages, Ae-jung’s feelings reached her deeply.
“Why did you do something you’d regret?”
Her own sharp scolding left a bitter taste.
“I’m sorry.”
That endless apology almost sounded like a whisper in her ear.
She closed the diary, locked it again, slipped the key inside, and placed it deep in the bottom drawer of the desk.
That was all she could do—to protect someone’s most private story from other eyes.
Thud.
She shut the drawer and stood, heading straight for the bathroom.
She turned on the water full blast.
Shhhhhhh.
Then switched to cold and splashed it on her face without hesitation.
She kept throwing handfuls of water until her breath came out ragged. Then she braced her hands on the sink and lifted her head.
Through blurred vision without her glasses, she saw a face that no longer felt unfamiliar.
Ironically, these “bad eyes” had helped her grow used to Joo Ae-jung’s face.
Through the fog, it slowly seeped in—until it somehow felt like her own.
She leaned closer to the mirror.
She couldn’t possibly feel the soul of a woman who hadn’t wanted to live.
“……”
Without blinking, she stared straight at herself, replaying the day in her head.
Compared to herself, that woman’s family was equally hopeless, her home equally miserable.
She’d given herself to a man and disappeared—no one even knew where.
She didn’t know much, but—
Drip. Drip.
The water hanging from her chin fell slowly, one drop at a time, until it was gone.
Then she spoke.
“I’m not thinking about anything else.”
It wasn’t entirely true, but somehow she felt stronger.
She looked straight into her own clear reflection and declared—
“I am me.”
Unshaken, resolute.
With her resolve set, she left the bathroom and headed to the kitchen.
After all that emotional heaviness, she suddenly felt hungry.
Deciding to “try living,” oddly, made her appetite return.
Anyone who knew her situation might call her shamelessly carefree, but—
“Who cares? In the end, we all do this to survive.”
Feeling a strange kind of defiant cheer, she called out toward a familiar back.
“Mrs. Kim, what’s for dinner today?”
Her voice was clear, maybe thanks to the face-washing.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Kim, turned from the sink.
“Yes, ma’am. I just started, so it might be a while. Would you like a snack while you wait?”
“It’s fine, take your time. I’ll grab something myself… Oh, is that octopus?”
“Yes. You seemed to enjoy seafood last time, so I thought I’d make octopus today. It looked very fresh.”
“That sounds amazing.”
She grinned, munching on a banana from the fridge as she approached.
Ever since she had started staying in this house, the two had grown unexpectedly close.
Despite being a bit particular, her easygoing nature made Mrs. Kim more comfortable around her than around Yoon-jae, whom she’d served for years.
Back in Mr. Go’s house in Hannam-dong, her closest relationships had also been with the staff.
“You should eat with me. There’s plenty.”
She couldn’t resist sneaking a piece of blanched octopus into her mouth and offering some.
Mrs. Kim smiled regretfully.
“That’s kind of you, but I have some things to take care of tonight. I’ll clean up and head home.”
“Right away? Yoon-jae isn’t coming home tonight?”
He was a man she rarely saw—since their marriage, they had barely shared a meal.
But Mrs. Kim, who came three times a week, usually stayed late enough to see him return.
Her eyes widened.
“Yes, he has plans tonight. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No. But wow, this octopus is so good.”
Mrs. Kim watched as she happily popped a third piece into her mouth.
Despite all the rumors surrounding them, their relationship seemed absurdly simple—two people who had chosen love above all else.
What a strange pair, she thought, hiding the comment behind an awkward smile.
Still, the grim atmosphere that had hovered over the house lately seemed gone.
“Then please wait just a bit. I’ll finish up right away.”
“Sure, I—oh. Wait a second.”
She suddenly stopped and turned to Mrs. Kim, then gently took the dish towel from her hands to dry them herself.
“Mrs. Kim, no. You don’t have to cook tonight.”
“Pardon?”
“You can go home early.”
“Go home? But I haven’t made dinner yet—”
Caught off guard, Mrs. Kim tried to protest, but she was already tidying up the sink herself.
“It’s fine, really. Go ahead.”
Her eyes sparkled mischievously.
“I mean it.”
I need a drink.
She smiled sweetly, hiding the wicked thought perfectly.
