Chapter 23
Rustle—
After finishing his preparations for work, Yoonjae was greeted by a pair of neatly outstretched hands.
Like a child waiting for presents on Christmas morning, the sight made him tense up instinctively—and then immediately feel ridiculous for doing so.
Lifting his gaze from the expectant hands, as though staring at a rubber ball that could bounce in any direction, Yoonjae asked flatly:
“Why. What.”
Whether she noticed his faint wariness or not, the so-called rubber ball—that is, we—mustered up some courage and said:
“Please give me some money.”
Though it might not have looked like it, she was actually quite nervous.
Naturally, Yoonjae tilted his head suspiciously, and she quickly added an explanation.
“I need… an allowance to maintain appearances.”
That only made him more confused.
Frowning slightly, Yoonjae repeated,
“You need what?”
Her face flushed. Embarrassing, yes—but since she’d already started, she decided to be bold about it.
Keeping her hand firmly extended, she said,
“I know it’s shameless. I’m sorry. But right now, I can’t work, and with the money I have, there’s no way I can match Yeongdo Group’s standard.”
Her reasoning was, surprisingly, rather logical—enough to cool his irritation a little.
“Standard.”
That one simple word pricked at him.
“And what exactly is Yeongdo’s standard?”
Because it reminded him of a memory he would rather not recall.
[I’ll help you.]
[If you’re willing to give up one thing.]
Back then, when a hand had reached out to a desperate Yoonjae—one he had wanted so badly to take.
His eyes momentarily clouded over, and she blinked in confusion, unable to read the reason behind it.
Withdrawing her hand, she said softly,
“That’s something people who define standards wouldn’t understand.”
Her unusually sharp statement was difficult to argue with.
Still missing each other’s wavelength, she scratched her cheek awkwardly.
“You saw the appointment, right? If I go there, your stepmother’s going to give me a hard time.”
Yoonjae flinched again. Not only had the subject changed out of nowhere, but that was the last thing he expected to hear.
She shrugged.
“You already know she doesn’t like me. The first thing she’ll do is criticize what she sees. Honestly, what about me would she like? I have nothing, and even that’s not enough for her standards.”
“…”
“Still, even if I know it’s coming, I don’t want to just stand there and take it.”
She had no taste for letting herself be humiliated by a predictable future.
The so-called “appearance allowance” was merely a means to avoid giving them an easy target. Yoonjae understood that much, but still couldn’t help asking:
“Do you really have to go that far?”
It wasn’t that he was stingy or unwilling to help; he just couldn’t understand why Ju Ae-jeong was putting so much effort into a marriage that only needed to last a year.
“Even if that’s true, you could just ignore them.”
A rubber ball—someone whose reactions were impossible to predict—should have been able to bounce through unbothered.
But she only gave a hollow laugh and planted her hands firmly on her hips.
“Ha Yoonjae, are you stupid?”
That rubber ball shot up and smacked him square in the jaw.
His brow twitched with visible annoyance, and she continued earnestly,
“Just because I can ignore it doesn’t mean it won’t hurt. Do you have any idea how painful it is to keep pretending you don’t care until you actually stop caring?”
“…”
“I don’t want to get hurt anymore. That’s why I’ll try.”
It was less an excuse and more a personal creed—one that had shaped her life.
The pain of being wounded by people who should have loved you, no matter how hard you tried to reach them—words couldn’t capture it.
Some people were born tough; most only grew calloused through scars that hardened over time.
That was what it meant to become strong.
She didn’t need sympathy for her bitter past—but ironically, Yoonjae found himself empathizing more than he expected.
Her hand brushed against an invisible wall built between them.
“But if I do end up getting hurt…”
Her fingers, strengthened by over three years of rock climbing, found a tiny crack in the wall.
“I’ll make sure to pay it back.”
“…”
“If I’ve done my best, I’ve earned that right.”
Just like that day long ago, when she climbed a tall wall without hesitation, determined to go over it.
Pfft.
A breath of laughter escaped Yoonjae’s lips before he could stop it.
Her eyes widened—caught off guard by that sound.
‘…He can laugh?’
Whether it was a smirk or a real smile, she couldn’t tell—but the corners of his mouth had definitely lifted, and his eyes had softened.
‘No way.’
Impossible. She must’ve imagined it. Ha Yoonjae smiling sweetly? Never.
Snapping back to her senses, she held out her hand again.
Without a word, Yoonjae took out his wallet and handed her a card.
“I’ll transfer the payment notifications to you. Use it as needed.”
“Huh? I didn’t expect that much consideration.”
As she looked at him with a mix of surprise and curiosity, Yoonjae instinctively grew wary again.
“What.”
“It’s just that… sometimes, you’re surprisingly generous. Or maybe I should say kind? You didn’t used to be like this.”
Maybe they’d never really talked before—but the more she spoke to him, the more new sides she saw.
Perhaps that laugh from earlier hadn’t been a hallucination after all.
Yoonjae’s expression quickly went blank again as he walked past her.
“I’ll return your own words to you.”
“What…?”
His subject-less remark made her pause—until a line of their earlier conversation flashed through her mind.
[Ha Yoonjae, do you even know me?]
[Don’t act like you do when you don’t.]
Her own arrogant words thrown back at her—her cheeks flushed red, and she awkwardly hid her face with the hand holding the card.
“…”
Let’s just shut our mouths now. Please.
Elegant fingertips lifted a teacup, releasing a soft, fragrant aroma.
A perfectly arched pinky finger pointed confidently toward the ceiling as Hyewon took a refined sip of black tea, her rose-tinted lips curving with quiet satisfaction.
“Not bad.”
It had been a while since she’d felt such contentment. Across from her, Eunse, admiring her freshly manicured nails, spoke without much thought.
“Mom, should I study abroad?”
Hyewon’s refined little finger twitched. Her head turned toward her lovely daughter.
“Again? What for?”
“I don’t know, maybe business management? And to improve my English a bit.”
“You’ve had private English tutors since you were three, studied abroad four times before middle school—eight years total—and every time came back because you failed your courses. What exactly are you planning to learn now?”
“That was different! When I was fifteen, I couldn’t focus because of Ha Yoonjae!”
Clatter!
The teacup hit the table hard enough for tea to splash over her hand. Hyewon took a sharp breath, wiping the spill with her handkerchief.
“While you were busy losing focus, Ha Yoonjae became executive director.”
Even the chill in her gaze didn’t shake Eunse’s indifferent tone.
“So what? He just cleans up after me anyway.”
“Say it right. He didn’t clean up after you—you lost to him.”
“…”
“What, do you want to keep losing until Yeongdo is completely his?”
It was infuriating enough that her husband had registered his illegitimate son in the family record—but now she was hearing praise for him everywhere she went. It made Hyewon’s stomach turn.
Sensing danger, Eunse straightened up and quickly changed the topic.
“So, why did you call her today? At a department store, no less. Planning to use her as a pack mule?”
Indeed, they were sitting in a luxury department store’s VIP lounge, both dressed more elegantly than usual.
“What do you take me for? Do I look like someone who’d summon her just to do something that vulgar?”
Weren’t you? Eunse thought, blinking innocently but saying nothing.
Hyewon dabbed her hands dry and lifted her cup again.
“I’m going to teach her.”
“Teach her what?”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? She probably doesn’t know a single proper thing. My head already hurts. Remember how much effort it took to teach Ha Yoonjae the basics when he first came?”
“At least Yoonjae’s your husband’s son, but why teach her?”
“Because there’s a minimum standard to uphold. Everyone knows she married Yoonjae—imagine the gossip. We’d be the ones hearing it. You expect me to just let that happen?”
“In that case, Go Woori would’ve been better. At least she matched our level. If she hadn’t—”
“Ha Eunse.”
Cut off once again, Eunse bit her lip. But this time, she knew she’d crossed a line. That name belonged to someone no longer alive.
Hyewon crossed her legs and took another delicate sip.
“Maybe starting from scratch isn’t such a bad thing.”
For a moment, she thought of Go Woori, then emptied her cup.
“Anyway, when is she coming? Is she seriously planning to show up right on time?”
Spoken by two women who had deliberately arrived thirty minutes early.
Eunse blinked prettily and reached for her phone.
“Mom, I’ll call her and—”
Click.
Before she could finish, the lounge door opened. Both women turned toward the sound.
Standing in the doorway was the last piece of today’s appointment—
A woman in a plain beige coat, hair neatly tied, thick glasses perched on her nose.
Eunse immediately leaned close to her mother and whispered with mockery,
“See? How thoughtless can you be, showing up dressed that simply—”
But before she could finish sneering, the woman removed her coat.
Underneath was a modest yet impeccably elegant dress, radiating quiet grace.
Her words died in her throat.
The woman handed her coat to an attendant with practiced ease.
“Thank you.”
Then she approached them, her expression polite yet uneasy, glancing between Hyewon and Eunse.
“I think I might be a bit late. I’m so sorry.”
“…”
“Mother. Miss.”
