“What?”
“No, seriously. You don’t just barge in here spouting random crap for no reason. You came to cut a deal with Mom about taking a leave of absence, didn’t you?”
That was an angle Jae-ha hadn’t even considered. When he faltered, Mu-yeon’s gaze grew stern.
“Absolutely not. Do you have any idea how shocked I was when I almost ended up with a cell phone thief as my daughter-in-law?”
“I was shocked too.”
Even with Jae-ha’s agreement, Mu-yeon didn’t so much as blink.
“You vanish for a week after saying you’re off on some cross-country march, only to claim you were living on a deserted island. Then you decide to go fishing on a boat in the middle of a typhoon. And what about the time you called me on video chat while standing on top of a bungee platform? Why do I have to feel like I’m the one falling when you’re the one jumping? You don’t get ‘free time.’ You’ll just screw around. Quit fooling around and get a job already.”
She could’ve held her own in a rap battle—the words just kept spilling out, years’ worth of pent-up nagging finally unleashed.
“Honestly, it’s kind of embarrassing. Outside, I just tell people I don’t have a brother.”
“I tell people I’m an only child too, you know?”
After trading their childish jabs, Jae-ha stood. Whether that was a relief for Mu-yeon or not, his visit wasn’t about that anyway.
“Mom, I’ve been hearing some strange things lately.”
If what Su-min said was true—if Jae-ha really was a descendant of Cheonrok—and if the Cheonrok descendant Su-min had met was actually his blood relative, then that meant Mu-yeon was one too. And if that was the case, she would have to know.
So Jae-ha decided to come right out with it.
“Someone told me I’m Cheonrok. What does that even mean?”
The moment the word Cheonrok left his mouth, he caught it—Mu-yeon’s eyes flickering, her expression tightening.
“…I wouldn’t know.”
Too late to play dumb. Jae-ha’s voice was firm.
“You do know.”
“What nonsense are you talking about?”
“You know you can’t lie to me.”
“You’re the only one who says that.”
“Which means you do know.”
“Gasp—!”
Mu-yeon quickly snapped her mouth shut. Across from her, Jae-ha folded his arms.
“Tell me already. I nearly died yesterday. Do you have Cheonrok energy too, Mom?”
Pressed by his relentless questioning, Mu-yeon tried to resist but finally groaned, her brow furrowing.
“It’s not me.”
“Then who? Don’t tell me it’s Dad?”
The father Jae-ha only knew through old photos had delicate features, but not so delicate he could be mistaken for a woman. Mu-yeon shook her head.
“No. Your father didn’t even know what a Cheonrok was.”
“…Then was I adopted?”
The suspicion was clear on his face. If neither parent was Cheonrok, how could he possibly be a descendant? It didn’t make sense.
“Your grandmother.”
“…What?”
“My mother was a descendant of Cheonrok.”
Cheonrok was a particularly unusual spiritual beast.
The further its energy spread from the original being, the weaker it became. Even if descendants were born, the power usually carried strongly only to the children, then faded rapidly with the next generation. After that, they were ‘descendants’ in name only—no different from ordinary people.
But on very rare occasions, when a unique soul met Cheonrok’s blood, the original energy would awaken again.
“That was your grandmother.”
Mu-yeon’s mother, Jae-ha’s grandmother, had been one of those rare cases.
Cheonrok’s energy had resurfaced after countless generations. But by then, all the elders who might have explained it were long gone. She had lived her life unaware—until, somehow, she discovered the truth herself. Just like Jae-ha.
“As a kid, I just thought she was mysterious. She’d say things that sounded like nonsense, she had tons of secrets…”
Even as her own mother, Mu-yeon often felt a distance. Sometimes she looked impossibly cool, but other times she was almost frightening. Mu-yeon had wanted to understand her but found it too hard, too intimidating. That gap had hurt; she had wanted a normal, everyday mother-daughter relationship and often acted out in frustration.
“Grandma…”
Jae-ha muttered. Suddenly, he remembered the time Mu-yeon had called him out of the blue—she’d said she dreamed of his grandmother, who scolded her for all the strange things clinging to him.
If that was true, then she had done her best to warn them. She’d said it outright; they’d just failed to understand.
“Her death, too… there were a lot of unanswered questions. The hospital couldn’t even pinpoint the cause. They said it was close to natural death, but she wasn’t even fifty. How does someone that young get ruled as a natural death?”
Mu-yeon muttered, her expression darkening. Though she had Cheonrok’s blood, she was ordinary—no energy, no power. She’d never fully understood how her mother lived or what she was capable of.
But from the glimpses she’d caught, and from the bond of being mother and daughter, she had decided it was best to stay uninvolved. In modern society, few would accept such strangeness. She had only wanted her children to live ordinary lives.
That was why she’d kept silent until now.
“Are you two done? Mind explaining this to me too?”
It was Ah-young who broke the silence. Having been completely left out, she glanced between them with a baffled face. The way they were tossing around things that sounded like a fantasy movie script, she was starting to wonder if they’d lost their minds.
“Don’t you think it’s weird? How you’re weirdly popular, how no one dislikes you?”
“Ugh, gross.”
Guess not. Jae-ha waved her off, telling her not to worry about it.
He’d brought it up in front of her because he’d thought maybe she had Cheonrok’s energy too. Her endless stream of boyfriends had always seemed suspicious, and if she was benefitting from Cheonrok’s charm, it would explain everything.
But then again—if it wasn’t because of that, wasn’t it even more impressive? Did that mean she was winning people over purely with her own charm?
Casting a fresh look at his sister, Jae-ha soon grimaced. No matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t find even a trace of that kind of allure. Clearly, the whole world had gone blind.
“Hey, why are you staring at me like that, like I’m annoying? You wanna die?”
“Did you just say hey to your brother?”
“What are you gonna do about it, huh?”
The siblings immediately started bickering, and Mu-yeon, used to it, simply let them go at it. She rolled the last sip of coffee in her mouth, her gaze sinking low, as if lost in thought.
While they were busy with their trivial back-and-forth, the chicken delivery arrived. The three of them sat at the table, tearing into the boxes. Hot steam billowed out the moment the lids came off. A feast of a dinner.
“Oppa, you’re eating less than usual today.”
Ah-young asked curiously as she chewed a boneless piece slathered in sauce. They’d ordered three chickens, estimating that Mu-yeon would eat half, Ah-young one, and Jae-ha one and a half. But halfway through the meal, plenty was still left. Mu-yeon and Ah-young were eating normally—meaning the slacker was Jae-ha.
“Am I?”
He poked at the chicken with his fork, answering indifferently. Ah-young’s eyes suddenly lit up.
“Oh my god. You got dumped, didn’t you?”
“How do you even come to that conclusion?”
“It’s true. That’s why you suddenly came out with that fantasy Cheonrok talk, right? You got dumped, and that’s why you showed up here. I thought it was weird—you could’ve just called, but you came in person.”
“No. If I’d said this over the phone, Mom would’ve pretended not to hear and hung up.”
“……”
Caught off guard, Mu-yeon quietly pretended not to hear, chewing her chicken. Her son knew her far too well.
“See? You won’t even deny the breakup part.”
“And if I did deny it, would you believe me?”
“Not with that face.”
Sharp as ever today. Jae-ha’s brow creased, but he let out a quiet sigh. His blunt reaction only fueled Ah-young’s smug grin.
“So what was it? Did she dump you because you’re not human?”
“I am human.”
Sure, his blood was a little unusual—but Jae-ha was still human. Just… a walking totem of health and charm.
But what had truly shaken him wasn’t that.
It was something else entirely—Hae-hyun’s feelings, feelings he’d trusted more than words, because actions spoke louder.
