“I got it. I’ll head over right away.”
“I’m in Gangwon-do right now. I’ll be there soon…”
“Okay.”
“Thanks.”
Though the replies he rattled off into the phone were calm and composed, Tae-seong’s face had gone deathly pale from the shock. It was the first time Ha-jin had ever seen someone’s complexion drain so quickly.
Ha-jin reached out and firmly grabbed one of his hands. Tae-seong winced slightly, looking at him.
As soon as the call ended, he shot up like a man possessed and walked straight into the pouring rain without hesitation. Since their hands were still clasped, Ha-jin had no choice but to follow, practically being dragged along. The sheer rigidity of Tae-seong’s expression made it impossible to stop him.
By the time they returned to the lodge in the staff’s car, both of them were soaked to the bone like drowned rats. Ha-jin tried to let go of Tae-seong’s hand to grab some towels, but Tae-seong pulled him back in.
“…My mother woke up.”
He looked at Ha-jin as he said it, his voice tinged with a sorrow that felt oddly raw.
“I really thought she was gone. That she was dead.”
“Tae-seong.”
“It’s been ten years. And now she opens her eyes.”
His voice trembled uncontrollably by the end. Ha-jin could only hold him tightly.
With his forehead pressed against Ha-jin’s shoulder, Tae-seong began to mutter fragmented words, grief he had buried in his heart trickling out with every breath.
After holding him for a long while, Ha-jin gently pulled him away and cupped both of his cheeks.
“You said you’d go right away. Where do we need to go?”
“To my grandfather’s house. She’s there. It’s not far from here.”
“Alright. I’ll drive.”
The only thing Ha-jin needed to pack was his own bag. He hurriedly changed clothes and was about to rush out when Tae-seong stopped him. Even in this situation, he insisted Ha-jin shower first, not wanting him to catch a cold, and practically dragged him into the bathroom.
In a strange way, it was a relief. It meant Tae-seong was starting to come back to his senses.
After a quick and quiet shower together, they stepped back outside to find the rain had eased to a light drizzle.
***
From the lodge to Chairman Cheon Han-jo’s estate, the drive took less than an hour. Even that long was only because Ha-jin wasn’t used to driving the flashy sports car. Still, Tae-seong didn’t insist on driving himself. His hands were visibly trembling the whole time, as if he too realized just how shaken he was.
Along the way, Tae-seong explained that the moment his mother, Cheon Soo-young, lost consciousness had coincided with the time he dropped out of med school.
The cause was an overdose.
Though she had long been suffering from a deep emotional wound, she had held herself together and maintained a facade of normalcy—at least, until that incident.
Ha-jin naturally recalled the image of Vice President Cheon Soo-young that Kwak Mari had once described: a beautiful and competent woman. There had been an undeniable tone of admiration in her voice.
Now, knowing the reason behind her sudden disappearance, it all made sense—and it was nothing short of shocking.
Even while navigating the rain-slicked roads with intense focus, Ha-jin stole glances at Tae-seong’s face. The man spoke of his family affairs as if they were someone else’s, his gaze fixed out the window, but his face remained pale and rigid throughout.
The GPS app cheerfully announced their arrival. As the car approached the sprawling estate’s boundary, the towering black iron gate recognized the vehicle’s license plate and began to slowly open.
“Drop me off and head straight back to Seoul, Ha-jin.”
Tae-seong spoke softly before the gate had fully opened. “It’s uncomfortable,” he added in a quiet voice, though the look in his eyes seemed to be saying something else entirely. Maybe it was just Ha-jin’s imagination, but it felt like Tae-seong didn’t want to be alone.
If the roles were reversed, Ha-jin would’ve wanted him to stay too.
“If it’s not that you don’t want me there, I’d like to go in with you.”
Tae-seong said nothing, only held his hand. Ha-jin took that as his answer and drove the car through the gate into the estate.
***
Cheon Han-jo’s knees had given out.
He had thrown a fit until Oh San-daek forced him into bed and hooked him up to an IV.
What finally subdued the old man, who had been on the verge of ripping the needle out, was Oh San-daek’s brutally cold remark: “Even if you’re going to die, shouldn’t you at least stay alive long enough to see your daughter walking again?”
“For someone pushing ninety, you’re strong as a bull. My arm still hurts from trying to stop you earlier, Chairman.”
Cheon Han-jo, now lying in bed, stole a glance at Oh San-daek—and then promptly turned his head away when he saw her bruised eyelid.
He felt guilty. Too ashamed to face her.
He had stormed out of his study with a hunting rifle, swearing he was going to kill Han Ki-taek. The gun hadn’t even been loaded, but Oh San-daek had panicked, flying at him, begging him to stop. “You can’t do this—if you end up in jail at your age, you’ll die in there!”
In the scuffle, he had elbowed her in the face.
“And what the hell were you doing getting in the way? That bastard deserves to die ten times over. What’s it to you, huh? Is he your damn grandson?”
“Don’t say such horrifying things, for heaven’s sake!”
As Cheon Han-jo grumbled with his eyes closed, Oh San-daek snapped at him in exasperation. She huffed as she tidied up the mess around the bed out of habit, glaring at him all the while. Cheon Han-jo, half-mumbling, tried to justify himself.
“I’m at my limit, you hear me? That bastard’s still walking around free after what he did… and I’m supposed to just let it go? After that goddamn letter that ungrateful wretch wrote while overdosing… I’ve been holding on, just barely holding on, but I can’t anymore.”
“You kept your promise for ten years. Why throw it all away now?”
Their voices trembled with emotion.
The two elderly figures bit back their tears as they continued speaking.
Cheon Soo-young had woken up just before dawn—right around the time Han Ki-taek would normally come in for his usual morning greeting.
Cheon Han-jo had been tending the flowers in the yard, and Oh San-daek had been out back. The estate, now outfitted with extra security thanks to the grandson’s insistence, was more active than usual.
Then—
“Aaaaahhh!”
Han Ki-taek screamed like a pig being slaughtered.
The sound tore through the tightly shut door of the second-floor room. Then came a clatter—he was barreling down the stairs in a frenzy and even missed a step, tumbling once before hitting the floor.
He crashed onto the hard living room floor and sprang up like a toy, as if he didn’t even feel the pain. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost.
As he crawled on all fours across the floor in sheer terror, Cheon Han-jo, shocked to the core, bolted upstairs. For that moment, it was as if age had reversed—the old man’s knees moved like a man in his prime.
Just as he’d suspected, his daughter had opened her eyes. Her gaze was hollow, and her eyelids fluttered slowly, but there was unmistakable life in her eyes.
“That crazy, wretched woman came back from the dead!”
As the whirlwind of emotion left him frozen in place, Han Ki-taek’s panicked ramblings echoed behind him—utterances that should never be heard in Cheon Han-jo’s home.
The old man’s eyes flared with fury.
He rushed to his study and grabbed the long-forgotten hunting rifle. As he hobbled back down the stairs, Oh San-daek, entering from the backyard, caught sight of him.
And that’s how the chaos unfolded.
Hours later, Han Ki-taek had fled the estate like a criminal, and the place was now swarming with hastily summoned medical professionals.
“Quit sitting there like that and go mix up some rice and eggs or something. If you pass out from hunger and turn blue, who are you gonna blame? Get a shot, take some medicine—are you on strike or something? That’s your damn problem. You care too much, throwing yourself into other people’s business…”
Cheon Han-jo’s grumbling was gruff and cranky, his voice hoarse and unpleasant. But despite all that, the concern in his tone was unmistakable.
Oh San-daek let out a small laugh.
They bickered like always, but what kept them going—what let them endure—was the knowledge that Cheon Soo-young was alive, lying awake in the next room.
Knock knock.
Professor Joo Yoon-seo peeked her head in.
“Grandfather, Auntie, may I come in for a moment?”
Her playful tone contrasted with the fact that she’d already half-stepped into the room.
Oh San-daek beamed and welcomed her over.
“I thought you both might be shaken up, so I came to give you a shot.”
“Thank you, Professor Joo. Our chairman here is so shocked, I think his chest is about to burst. Please take a look at him.”
Smiling sweetly, Joo Yoon-seo approached Cheon Han-jo.
She gently touched the arm with the IV, checking for swelling, adjusting the tubing, and making sure the drip rate was just right. Her every movement was careful, attentive, kind.
“From now on, only good things will happen. So why the tears?”
Kneeling by the bed and clasping Cheon Han-jo’s hand, she met his eyes, now brimming with tears. The tears only grew thicker.
Without hesitation, she reached out and gently touched his forehead with her warm palm.
