UB 72

CHAPTER 72…………………………………

“Now I can’t walk properly. My legs hurt.”

They say your body falls apart when you’re pregnant—and it was true. Unlike the shiny, polished shell coated with money, inside she felt hollow and empty.

She hadn’t walked much, riding in the car most of the time. Yet just moving a little to visit the chairman and his wife made the soles of her feet tingle. Her legs were swollen, and her belly had grown considerably. Every time her ribs felt pressed, Yeong-in tried to take a deep breath.

“Your legs?”

Hyun-ha went down under the sofa, kneeling and cupping Yeong-in’s bare feet.

The overly familiar gesture made Yeong-in frown. The hands massaging her aching feet felt strangely ticklish.

“What are you doing?”

“You said they hurt.”

“Doing this won’t change anything.”

Looking up at Yeong-in, who spoke as if to push him away, Hyun-ha chuckled.

“Do you think I’m trying to flatter you?”

“Then what is it?”

Even as she sneered, Hyun-ha kept gently massaging her feet. She had worried that his touch might wander upward or that he might immediately lay her down on the sofa—but there was no hint of anything sticky in his hands.

As she let him continue, the tingling in her feet gradually faded. A cool sensation rose up to her ankles. Yeong-in wiggled her toes, held in his large hands.

She remembered the times she climbed stairs with sore feet just to play the piano. A professor who wanted to teach her had appeared, but the building’s elevator was broken. Her father chose the stairs, saying he couldn’t break the appointment.

‘I have to learn from this teacher! Come quickly!’

Her father went ahead but often looked back, urging Yeong-in on. She wanted to tell him her legs ached, that her whole body hurt from fatigue—but she couldn’t. So she silently climbed the stairs, fully tense.

“Have you tried looking for my mom?”

Yeong-in blurted it out. Hyun-ha didn’t lift his head, just rubbed her calves.

“Yeah.”

She had a feeling he would. If it was Choi Hyun-ha, he would know every detail about her.

“How’s she doing?”

“Not well, I think.”

It was the first news she had heard since her mother left the house. So that’s how it was… after abandoning everything. Yeong-in squeezed her eyes shut.

“That’s good.”

Her eyes often stung—probably another symptom of pregnancy. Her emotions felt dried up, yet her heart burned.

“Why? Should I help her do well?”

Hyun-ha asked casually, but she sensed his sincerity. If she nodded now, her biological mother would start a completely different life from the one she had led until now.

Yeong-in shook her head.

“Where did Dad’s ashes get scattered?”

She had wondered since the sea. Perhaps even earlier. Where had her father gone?

When her mother left after hearing that Yeong-in was a piano prodigy, the father she had known seemed to vanish. Though his body remained in the house, his mind was elsewhere—on the dazzling future Yeong-in would bring, the scene of revenge to present to her mother.

“There’s a place for tree burials near our house. I’ll take you there when you feel better.”

“Let’s go now.”

Opening her eyes and urging him, Hyun-ha clicked his tongue.

“You said your feet hurt, that you can’t even walk.”

“They’ll still hurt tomorrow and the day after. I’m about to give birth soon—when else would I have time? Now.”

It had to be now. Some things in life could not be postponed.

After a long silent battle of wills, Hyun-ha sighed and stood. These days, he often seemed to yield to Yeong-in. Was this another trap? Even while living together, she couldn’t put aside her suspicion.

Nothing could end according to Yeong-in’s wishes without careful control.

“I’ll put your coat on, so stay still.”

He picked up the coat beside the sofa and carefully slipped her arms into the sleeves, handling her as if she were something fragile.

Her fragile movements now felt natural. Who had ever treated Yeong-in like this? Though he had once crushed her the most, now Hyun-ha treated her most tenderly.

Yeong-in let him carry her carefully. Hyun-ha lifted her completely so she wouldn’t have to walk. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his broad chest, feeling comfortable.

“Do you regret what you did to me?”

It was an impulsive question. There had been times when her chest had swelled with emotion when he held her. She often wondered what would have happened if things had continued like that up to the day her child was born.

What kind of world would this child see? She worried about the future in ways she hadn’t before.

“No.”

The sharp answer cut through her. Every organ already ravaged felt further wounded.

Even though she knew her heart could no longer be shaken, each strong movement from her unborn child made her stomach churn. It wasn’t just her gut turning over.

Her desire for revenge hadn’t faded, yet something else was growing inside her. Why were humans so weak?

Yeong-in, seated in the back of the car, instinctively hugged her belly. She had imagined that raising a child would feel like life energy being drained. Like her parents had treated her—like being parasitized.

But holding the child, she felt as if life energy was shared. Even when her body ached and burned, she was not alone.

Occasionally, the movements of her child felt like rhythms in a dream. The music Yeong-in had lost was inside that tiny heart.

What kind of fingers would this child have?

What would those little fingers eventually hold?

Would their shape resemble Yeong-in’s?

Would they love the piano?

Amid countless thoughts, Yeong-in sighed in fatigue. Hyun-ha, sitting beside her, let her rest her head on his shoulder.

“Sleep on the way.”

“….”

She had wanted to protest that she couldn’t sleep, but as soon as she smelled Hyun-ha’s scent, her eyelids grew heavy reflexively.

Being with Hyun-ha made her sleepy. Sleep always involved some kind of physical contact. Even without sex, she had to be touching him.

Hyun-ha pressed his lips to her ear. Warm breath seeped in. Desire surged even more intensely.

Just like now, feeling Hyun-ha’s body let her sleep without nightmares.

His sleeplessness seemed no different. A relationship in which they could only sleep together. Could it also mean a relationship in which one could only live with the other?

I won’t let you have me.

But then, how will this child grow? Yeong-in stopped thinking and fell asleep. Lately, staying awake felt painful.

How long had she slept? The car stopped, and the scenery had completely changed. Yeong-in rubbed her eyes and clutched the coat covering her torso. Hyun-ha, still in his shirt, let her lean on his shoulder.

“How long have we been here?”

“Over thirty minutes, I guess.”

“Wake me up.”

“You were sleeping well.”

Hearing his nonchalant reply, Yeong-in stared at his face for a while. Their gentle, couple-like conversation irritated her.

Yeong-in opened the back door. The outside air was chilly. She had imagined a typical hillside with round graves, but the place was closer to a flat field.

She couldn’t quite picture a tree burial, but literally, it was a forest. On a vast estate-like land, large trees were planted individually. Gravestones lined the ground beneath them.

It wasn’t like the orderly cemeteries people usually imagined. Paths were paved with stone, blending trees and gravestones harmoniously. She could believe it was a work of art rather than a cemetery.

Mountains rose behind, a river flowed in front—the scenery was neither desolate nor plain. So this was a good site, she realized, sweeping her gaze around.

The trees’ leaves brushed together. Even just looking at the landscape felt cleansing.

Compared to a columbarium that reduced a person to a handful of ashes, this was sheer luxury. She remembered hearing that space itself signified wealth.

“Is this Dad’s tree?”

She stopped in front of a pine that looked antique. The three Chinese characters on the grave were clearly her father’s name.

She guessed that her mother had secretly cremated and scattered the ashes quickly, never imagining there would be a place to visit. She had thought every trace gone.

“If you don’t like it, we can move it.”

Hyun-ha caught up and gestured toward the tree.

“I like it.”

When would her father ever enjoy such luxury? She swallowed the words. It didn’t seem right to speak here, before her deceased father’s grave.

After all, her father wasn’t here anyway. Yeong-in no longer believed in spirits. If a person could influence the living after death, Choi Su-hyeok would have appeared at the mansion long ago.

He had clung to Seok-ju Ran’s life like a burn scar, so in some sense, was he a ghost of the mansion? Yeong-in frowned. But that was all the suffering of the living. Burning in the body, Choi Su-hyeok must have died happily, knowing he had achieved everything he wanted.