MHL 06

chapter 06

Kyung-joon had never had such a long conversation with Seo-ha before. At most, it had been petty, small arguments like, “Did you come up again without letting me know?” or “As you know, the CEO is a precious treasure.”

So really, he could have just passed by when he saw her. Why was this woman, walking in the rain like she didn’t belong there, suddenly running over to him?

“Anyway, what about the car? That convertible you drive with the roof down.”

Yoon Seo-ha responded with a look that said, Why do you even care?

“I gave it to someone else since it was raining.”

“Then follow me.”

Kyung-joon spun around and started walking briskly. But after a short while, he realized he didn’t feel anyone following him. Turning back, he saw Seo-ha quickly moving away in the winter rain, her back retreating into the distance.

“That woman, seriously!”

He pushed through the crowd and grabbed her shoulder, only for her to shake him off as if he were some criminal. Ridiculously so.

“Let go! What are you doing?”

“You’re the one doing something wrong! Where are you going in this winter rain without an umbrella?”

“Don’t cut me off so casually. You think just because my tongue is sharp, I’m being polite?”

Seo-ha retorted fiercely. Kyung-joon could have snapped back just as fiercely, but he stayed quiet, staring at her.

Her appearance was a mess. He could overlook her hair plastered to her head from being soaked, but her makeup smeared with rain—or was it tears?—and her lips pale to a violet hue were unbearable to see.

“Alright, Seo-ha,” Kyung-joon said, forcing down his disbelief and speaking as politely as he could.

“Let’s just go together. If you catch a cold, the CEO will worry a lot.”

“…Mom?”

Invoking her mother seemed to work. Kyung-joon emphasized once more.

“Yes. Your mother.”

Seo-ha’s lashes, streaked with smeared mascara, blinked a few times, and then thick drops rolled down her face. Unlike Kyung-joon, she had grown up spoiled and loved, living off her own pride. He wanted to see her flustered or crying just once—but not like this.

Not like this—standing silently on a rain-soaked winter street, tears quietly falling instead of riding in a flashy sports car.

“Hey, Seo-ha.”

Kyung-joon, feeling suddenly uneasy, hurriedly pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and offered it. Of course, Seo-ha refused it.

“Stop crying. People will think I made you cry.”

Indeed, passersby were glancing at them, and he felt some of them judging him. He couldn’t explain that he didn’t make her cry—that she was crying on her own—so he felt utterly wronged.

“Who told you to be here? You should have just gone your way. Go now, even now.”

Even with tears streaming down, she spoke sharply. Kyung-joon clicked his tongue in displeasure and turned away. But before he could take a few steps, whispers around him made him stop.

“Ah, damn it.”

Reluctantly, he turned back and firmly placed the umbrella into Seo-ha’s hand. Startled, she paused. He used the handkerchief to shake the rain out of her hair and wipe her face a little, and her appearance improved slightly.

“Use this. Don’t catch a cold wandering around and cause the CEO trouble.”

“Secretary Ryu.”

Thankfully, Seo-ha had stopped crying, speaking in a slightly hoarse voice.

“Can you not tell my mom anything?”

“Sure.”

He hadn’t intended to say anything anyway. Whether Seo-ha cried on the street or danced in public, it didn’t concern him. Yet, Seo-ha acted as if he had performed some great kindness, giving him an awkwardly polite thank-you.

“Thank you.”

Her lips were purple from the cold, yet she managed a perfect smile.

Suddenly, his heart thumped irritatingly fast. He was curious why this self-important woman was crying miserably on the street.

If she would just follow him quietly, he wanted to take her somewhere warm, let her change into dry clothes, and offer her a sweet hot chocolate.

What was he thinking?

Kyung-joon hurriedly walked in the opposite direction before his mind could wander further, resisting the urge to look back multiple times. Soon, his tall frame and flapping coat disappeared into the sea of colorful umbrellas. Seo-ha stood there, clutching the umbrella he had given her, and muttered softly.

“…So embarrassing.”

Of all the moments in her life, the most miserable one had been seen. Even more miserable—and embarrassing—was that the umbrella he had given her had offered a little comfort. Her husband, Lee Seung-oh, never cared enough to wonder if she even had an umbrella while cheating.

“Rejected.”

Lee Ji-su weakly held out her phone. On it was a long, standard rejection message that began with “Thank you for applying” and ended with “We hope to meet again under better circumstances.” Seung-oh felt a strange relief and made a frown for no reason.

“Why were you rejected? Didn’t Seo-ha try to sabotage you?”

“She didn’t. I just wasn’t good enough, that’s all. It’s fine.”

Even though tears glistened in her eyes as she smiled foolishly, she said it was fine. Sometimes, he thought, it might be better if she were like Seo-ha, always questioning and arguing—it would make her seem less pitiful.

“I told you to endure a little with design. I could easily place you in another department.”

“But I want to be a designer. I’ll never be better than you, but…”

“Stop calling me ‘Miss.’ Are you my servant?”

“I am. You and I are of different status.”

“It’s not the Joseon Dynasty; what status are you talking about?”

“Even in modern Korea, there’s status. You’re Miss, you’re young master, and I… am just a servant.”

Ji-su put her phone back in her handbag. Seeing the bag, made of shiny fake leather with a poorly printed luxury logo, Seung-oh’s face twisted.

“What’s with this bag? Where did you get it?”

“Pretty, right? I bought it at the market yesterday. It was originally 25,000 won, but the vendor said she only had one left and sold it for 18,000 won, so I bought it quickly.”

“….”

When Seung-oh was very young, his mother would also proudly carry cheap bags she bought at the market. Of course, young Seung-oh didn’t know they were cheap. If Kang Hae-seon hadn’t intervened, he might never have realized.

• “Mom, where did you get this?”

• “At the market. The lady gave it cheaply. Isn’t it pretty?”

• “It’s pretty, but…”

From Hae-seon’s hesitant expression, Seung-oh knew the bag wasn’t pretty at all. It was the look of someone who didn’t want to show dislike, felt sympathy, but wanted to maintain a little pride.

• “Look, the stitching is wrong. If you put anything in it, it’ll break. I’ll give you a sturdy one. If people see you with this broken one, I’ll get blamed, even though everyone knows your family.”

The bag Hae-seon gave, from the dress room, wasn’t shiny fake leather—it was subtly glossy leather.

The stark contrast between Ji-su, delighted and repeatedly asking if it was okay to receive it, and Hae-seon, casually handing it over with a smile, left a lasting impression on young Seung-oh’s mind.

As Ji-su had said, it was a matter of status. There could be no clearer expression of it.

That’s why he had always cared about Ji-su. Her resilient yet pure-hearted nature reminded him of his mother. Despite her extreme poverty, she was cheerful and brave, and he felt he had to protect her.

“This is driving me crazy.”

He muttered to himself, and Ji-su flinched, sensing it.

“Did I… do something wrong again?”

“Throw that away immediately. I’ll give you one as a gift.”

“What? No!”

Ji-su’s eyes widened.

“Is it… not pretty? I won’t bring it out again. Don’t buy things like that for me, oppa.”

“Next week is your birthday. It’s your gift.”

“Oppa…”

Ji-su shyly smiled as if deeply touched. Seung-oh chuckled and gently kissed her forehead in sync with a traffic signal. Instead of Seo-ha’s usual elegant perfume, the scent of fresh soap tickled his nose.

But how could he buy a gift?

All household income was managed by Seo-ha. Taking out hundreds of thousands in cash from the bank was unthinkable, and using a credit card would lead to inevitable questioning. Corporate cards were the same; any purchase at a luxury store would create a bigger issue than a personal card.

“I feel like I can’t do anything for you. How can I just keep receiving?”

Ji-su asked Seung-oh cautiously, her timid voice endearing.

“You can’t do anything? What did you make for dinner today?”

“I made soft tofu stew. Added clams and green chili peppers.”

“Spicy?”

“Really spicy, and so refreshing.”

She had never been able to eat breakfast at Seo-ha’s. Without a helper, she thought it was a disaster not to buy even underwear from a department store. She never expected to be served.

But Ji-su was different. She didn’t know indulgence; she shopped at the market instead of a department store and always adjusted everything for Seung-oh.

Emptying the dinner table she prepared carefully, eating the apples she brought for dessert, sipping mixed coffee, and enjoying sweet, cozy time together was now Seung-oh’s happiest part of the day.

Today was no different. After enjoying Ji-su’s spicy soft tofu stew, they watched TV on the sofa, then moved to the bed, and after their intimate time, fell asleep in each other’s arms, waking in the early morning.

Sneaking back home quietly, it was silent as a mouse. Seung-oh opened the dress room door to change clothes and had a sudden idea.

“So many here.”

Compared to Ji-su’s living room, this dress room was far larger, filled with all kinds of bags and shoes.

He opened the built-in closet and pulled out several bag boxes. Most were items Seo-ha had used once or twice and then stored for various reasons.

“Such extravagance. Doesn’t know the fear of money.”

As Seung-oh scolded Seo-ha for her extravagance and opened the boxes one by one, he found a familiar item.

“So this was here.”

Seo-ha probably forgot this existed.

Seung-oh put the bag back in its box and hid it in a corner of the study, planning to present it to Ji-su on her birthday as a surprise gift.