Chapter 09
“Yuhan contacted us. They’re sending over some documents, and they said Madam absolutely has to look at them herself.”
It wasn’t even the time for an asset management report.
Manager Kim entered with a puzzled expression as she delivered the message.
“Mm. I’m buying a house.”
“Yes, a house is nice. Then when—… What? You’re buying what? A house? A house?”
It must have sounded like she was talking about buying a bag or some clothes. Repeating the word house three times, Manager Kim stared blankly at Seoyeong.
Seoyeong glanced at her cautiously.
“The ones they recommended were all too big, so I asked them to look for something smaller. I didn’t expect it to be this quick. Maybe CEO Jung rushed it for me.”
“So you’re really buying a house right now? Not land or a building, but a house? Why a house?”
“Where would you want to live, unni? One of the recommendations was… hmm, Hannam-dong, and I think there was one in Seongbuk-dong. But if it’s too close to here, that might be awkward, right?”
“Why does it matter where I want to live? What on earth are you planning to—”
“You’ll live with me, right?”
Now, the only person Seoyeong could call family was Manager Kim. She asked with a tense expression.
Of all the people from Yeonhaedang, Manager Kim was the only one Seoyeong had personally brought with her. The others belonged to S Company—none of them would follow Seoyeong if she left.
“Who else would I live with? I don’t exactly have a home to go back to now. Of course I’ll live with you. Why are you acting like that? You’re scaring me.”
Startled, Manager Kim slipped back into her old way of speaking. Seoyeong smiled brightly at her.
“I know Mom bought you that apartment.”
“That apartment’s been leased out for ages. These days, even if it’s your own place, you can’t just kick out the tenant. What’s going on with you all of a sudden?”
“Just in case.”
Seoyeong lowered her gaze back to the book in her hands. Watching her, Manager Kim pounded lightly at her chest in frustration. But Seoyeong’s tightly sealed lips did not open again.
Just then, someone knocked on the study door. As Manager Kim opened it, a hushed whisper followed. Seoyeong lifted her eyes from her book.
“Um…”
“The documents already arrived?”
“No, it’s not that…”
Uncharacteristically, Manager Kim rolled her eyes nervously before holding out a box—the exact same size as the one from a month ago.
“Again?”
No matter how foolish Kang Naeun was, surely she wouldn’t do something like this. Seoyeong looked up at Manager Kim with suspicion.
“This time it was really charged through the secretary’s office.”
The previous pair of shoes had also been charged through the secretary’s office. The only mistake had been the recipient.
With a soft scoff, Seoyeong took the box and opened it herself.
High heels. The exact kind she liked to wear—navy with light brown trim around the toe, slender heels.
She stared at the shoes in silence for a long time before snapping the lid shut.
“Throw them away.”
This was the same Seoyeong who had insisted even mistakenly delivered shoes shouldn’t be wasted but sent to a charity bazaar. Without a word, Manager Kim took the box.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Seoyeong watched coldly as Manager Kim left the room with it.
*
—Shall we have dinner out?
Han Seoha had been checking his phone every thirty seconds.
He had worked up the nerve to send the text, yet ten minutes passed with no reply. The secretary’s office had already confirmed that Seoyeong’s schedule was completely clear today.
The shoes should have been delivered in the morning.
Even when he offered to buy another pair, Naeun had shaken her head. Thinking her feelings might have been hurt, he instructed the secretary’s office to purchase the same pair again and send them to Naeun’s dormitory.
She must have received them long ago. That morning, he had gotten a message from her—Thank you for the shoes—along with a neatly arranged photo of them.
Looking at the photo, he had thought of Seoyeong.
So on impulse, he had asked for the department store’s dedicated team number and called personally. The secretary’s office wouldn’t make the same mistake again, but he wanted to do it himself.
As he told them to select and send a pair of shoes for his wife, the tips of his ears had turned slightly red.
But Seoyeong hadn’t said she’d received them. Nor had she replied to his message.
Han Seoha roughly picked up his phone again.
Still no response.
He scrolled up and down the message window. Nothing.
Frowning at the screen, he bit his lip.
—Are you having dinner at home?
—No.
—Okay. Please don’t skip your meal.
—Will you be late again today?
—Yeah.
—Don’t overwork yourself. I’m worried.
It wasn’t that he had meant to be cold. But no matter how kindly Seoyeong asked, his replies were always curt. Sometimes he hadn’t replied at all.
And…
The last message was dated September 8, 2023.
That was two whole years ago.
After the fall of that year, Seoyeong’s messages had stopped abruptly. What had happened then?
Ah.
That incident. The time Naeun had fallen asleep in his bedroom.
Han Seoha’s brow furrowed deeper as he recalled it. The discomfort he had felt then washed over him as vividly as if it had happened yesterday.
“Crazy.”
It had already been two years, yet even now, the mere thought of that scene made his skin crawl.
Naeun was like a younger sister. Not even a close niece—she was young enough to be a grandniece. Just imagining the suspicion Seoyeong harbored made the back of his neck prickle.
Though he had never explained it to Seoyeong, Han Seoha felt a strange sense of debt toward Naeun. It was a debt unpaid, a task yet unfinished.
It had been a promise made to a child too young to know better—but a promise was a promise. And there was one fact he had kept hidden: for a long time, he had fully intended to keep it.
Yet the moment he met Kang Naeun again, his resolve had crumbled. No—his feelings had folded in on themselves. He had secretly felt relieved that she didn’t remember the promise.
Even if no one remembered, a broken promise still weighed on him as debt. So he worried about her. But there was nothing he could do.
When his mother was alive, she had taken care of Naeun. After Seoyeong took over the household, naturally she had done so.
The trouble began after his father entrusted him with the company and his mother entrusted Seoyeong with the household, and the two of them left together on a trip.
One day, Naeun came to the office unexpectedly. From the moment she stepped into his office, her eyes were already brimming with tears.
“Unni seems to be misunderstanding me.”
When she began like that, Han Seoha was stunned.
She said that even when his mother had been around, Seoyeong had subtly slighted her. She had tried to endure it, but she’d recently discovered the reason Seoyeong disliked her was because of a misunderstanding—an unspeakable suspicion lumping her and Han Seoha together in some imagined impropriety.
“There’s no way. How could I possibly be with you, oppa? We’re not even close relatives by blood, but still—how could she misunderstand us like that…?”
Enraged, Han Seoha had been ready to storm straight to Seoyeong, but Naeun clung to him, sobbing.
“From the outside, we could look that way. I… I don’t want things to get worse with unni. If you act like this, she might hate me even more.”
After crying for a long time, Naeun said she would attend university in Daejeon. She didn’t want to leave home, but she had to consider her sister’s feelings.
No matter how much he told her it wasn’t necessary, she remained firm.
In the end, he gave his permission. That evening, he asked Seoyeong if it was her wish that Naeun go to university in Daejeon.
Seoyeong, still bright-faced and calm, casually blamed it on grades and even mentioned studying abroad. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her properly.
He had thought she was a good woman—kind to his parents, kind to him. To think it had all been an act.
After Naeun left for Daejeon, Han Seoha moved his bedroom to the main house.
If Seoyeong had asked why, would he have told her? Would he have demanded to know whether she had really needed to drive out a child without parents so coldly?
But Seoyeong asked nothing. She behaved as she always did. And that made the comparison with Naeun even sharper.
Seoyeong was bright, beautiful, unreserved.
Naeun was dark, timid, withdrawn.
It wasn’t that child’s fault her parents had died early, leaving her alone in the world.
And then that incident happened.
At first, he thought, Well, I can see how someone might misunderstand. Even to him, Naeun’s sleepwear had been excessive. The moment he saw her, he had frowned without realizing it.
And no matter how frightened she was, sneaking into someone else’s bedroom was deeply improper.
To think a child raised by his mother would lack such manners—he had clicked his tongue in disappointment.
But Naeun had said it was a mistake. And Seoyeong, who was in the position to correct and guide her, had behaved like a madwoman. She wouldn’t listen to any explanation.
No matter how many times he insisted it wasn’t what she thought, Seoyeong refused to believe him. In the end, the only solution was to separate Naeun from her.
No matter how unreasonable her suspicion, no matter how much she nitpicked, Seoyeong was his wife. However pitiful Naeun was, he couldn’t throw his wife out.
If there was one unexpected thing, it was that Naeun—whom he had assumed would choose Daejeon or perhaps a convenient officetel somewhere in Gangnam—had chosen one in Yeouido.
And so Naeun left the family home.
In a house without her, there was nothing left to fight about between him and Seoyeong. As always, he was busy. Incredibly busy.
After that, things had been peaceful.
Or so he had thought.
She hasn’t texted once since then?
Han Seoha clenched his fist on the desk.
At the same time, another realization struck him.
Since that day, they had never once shared a meal at the same table.
The occasional phone calls that used to carefully avoid meeting times had stopped completely.
The truths he had failed to notice came crashing down on him.
A chill ran down the back of his neck.
