Chapter 7.2

“Su-eon.”  

Her father quietly called her name. Still, she couldn’t lift her head. In front of his silent daughter, Seon-tae reached into his pocket and took something out. The rustling sound made Su-eon look up.  

“……What’s this?”  

What her father handed her was a bankbook.  

{Dad has money. A lot of money. You can use this to open the flower shop.}  

The money he had saved, never wasting even a single penny, had grown into a substantial sum.  

{But I’m not going to use it. This is for your wedding.}  

As she stared at him in confusion, his hands moved quickly again.  

{I’ll move into subsidized housing for people with disabilities. I’ve already applied. They said I might be able to move in before the end of the year.}  

“What? When did you do that…?”  

{After the last time you visited. Your face didn’t look good then. Something must’ve happened, right?}  

“No, it wasn’t like that…”  

Even as she shook her head, her father continued signing.  

{I know everything. I know something happened to you. I even know that the Assemblywoman introduced you to a man. The people at work said he’s incredibly rich. I heard it all.}  

Su-eon stared at her father with a frozen expression, startled.  

{Don’t meet that man, Su-eon. I don’t want you marrying someone like that.}  

“…Do you know who he is, Dad? Have you seen him before?”  

When Su-eon asked with a surprised face, Seon-tae shook his head.  

{I haven’t seen him, but I know. I know they didn’t introduce you to a good person. If they had, you wouldn’t be wearing that kind of expression right now.}  

“……”  

{I’ll move into subsidized housing. I can find another job. So don’t worry about me. Just live your life, Su-eon.}  

“Dad.”  

{If you’re making these choices because of me, don’t. I can take full responsibility for my own life.}  

Her eyes stung, and she looked at the empty space in front of her, trying to calm her breathing.  

“Why do you keep…”  

{Su-eon?}  

“Why do you keep trying to send me away alone?”  

It was her father who had sent her out of Chairwoman Wang’s house the moment she graduated high school. Telling her she didn’t belong there anymore, that she was an adult now and could live on her own, he had pushed her toward independence, even if it felt a bit cold.  

{Because you weren’t happy in that house.}  

“……”  

{Back then, when you were in middle school, I wasn’t able to do the same for you. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, that I let you get hurt. It’s something I’ve carried with me ever since.}  

She hadn’t expected her father to still remember that. As Su-eon’s eyes wavered with confusion, he opened them wide and began moving his hands again, much more forcefully and slower than before. His desperate, silent language poured out toward her, shaking her heart deeply.  

{Back then, when they told me I could do the interview so you wouldn’t have to, I agreed. If I had known you’d end up in the article too, I would have never agreed. If I had known they’d hurt you, I would have never let you go to that house.}  

“……”  

“Sorry, sorry, Su-eon.”  

Her father’s regretful apology made her realize something for the first time. She hadn’t been the only one hurt back then. The wounds she had buried deep inside, unable to speak of them because of the pain, had festered and reappeared now.  

What if I had been braver back then? What if I had said the words I was saying now? What if I had told my father to leave that house, to go out and live together, just the two of us?  

Both of them had suppressed their pain, enduring it for the other’s sake. They had been foolish, stubborn, and pitifully self-sacrificing—a father and daughter who had hurt equally.  

***

Back at the hanok, instead of entering the house, Su-eon sat on the wooden veranda, gazing at the yard. In the stillness, petals of hawthorn and zinnias danced and scattered across the yard.  

Su-eon hated flowers with a passion. She was frustrated to the point of suffocation watching her father work tirelessly every day in that house. Digging the soil, tending to the plants, and taking care of all the household chores without a single day’s rest—her father seemed foolish for working so hard.  

She was angry that no one recognized her father’s efforts, that people dismissed him just because he was disabled.  

But she knew all of it had been for her. Raising a daughter alone as a deaf man couldn’t have been easy.  

For the first time, Su-eon confronted the version of herself from her younger years—the girl who had resented her father so much. It was the narrow-minded, immature Ji Su-eon she had avoided acknowledging all this time because she hadn’t wanted to admit it.  

As more time passed, the heat that had burned in the wind began to cool. Su-eon rested her cheek on her knees and quietly stared at the moon rising above the eaves. The sky was still blue, but the moon stood tall, as if it alone was keeping its own time.  

“What are you doing there, Princess?”  

A long shadow stretched across the stone wall below. When she lifted her head, she saw Seung-jo standing at the gate, dressed in his work attire, having just returned from work. Instead of the casual clothes he had worn over the weekend, he now wore a neat suit.  

Despite the hot weather, he had buttoned his classic dark gray suit all the way up, and it hung elegantly over his broad shoulders. It was a look she had seen many times before, but her gaze always lingered for a moment. Even though it had only been half a day since she last saw his face, it felt different.  

“Why are you looking at me like that?”  

“No, it’s just… You came home early.”  

She had assumed he would return late today, considering he must have had a busy schedule even over the weekend, yet he had stayed home with her. Hadn’t he left for work at dawn? Seeing him appear just a little past early evening stirred something inexplicable in her.  

It was because the sight of him, standing there so composed, brought back sudden flashes of the moments when he had stripped away that neat exterior and held her body with fervor through the night.  

“One of my evening appointments got canceled.”  

Explaining his early return with nothing more than a simple reason, Seung-jo walked across the yard toward her.  

“Did you go out?”  

“Yes.”  

“Where?”  

“I had a quick errand to run.”  

His steady steps grew closer, showing no hesitation, as if he was completely unaware of the way her heart was fluttering. Feeling unsettled by her own emotions, Su-eon turned her gaze toward the yard.  

“The trees and flowers here… Were they all picked by an expert?”  

The large acacia tree planted in the yard, along with the zinnias painting the stone wall red, struck a perfect balance between simplicity and brilliance. It was a sight that her father would have admired.  

“I chose them.”  

“…Do you like flowers, Senior?”  

“Not particularly. I just think they look nice, that’s all. What man my age would say he likes flowers?”  

Seung-jo placed his briefcase down on one side, shrugged off his jacket, and carelessly tossed it over the bag. Then, he stepped down into the yard. Rolling up his sleeves after undoing the buttons at his wrists, he revealed his sturdy forearms, one of which was adorned with a watch. The sleek black dial of the watch, reminiscent of the pitch-black night, shone elegantly, much like his eyes.  

He walked over to the metal faucet in one corner of the yard and turned it on. Letting the water run for a moment, he bent down under the faucet. He took a sip of the gushing water, then cupped some in his hands and splashed it over his face. Watching him, even from a distance, gave her a refreshing sense of relief.  

The sight brought back memories of him in his uniform, boldly cutting through the court, and the image of him pouring bottled water over his sweat-soaked face. She recalled the arcs his hands would trace as he moved, the moments when he dominated the game, and the roar of countless cheers.  

He had left all of that behind and was living in the present.  

What must that feel like?  

Did he ever think of those times and feel resentment toward anyone?  

Transparent streams of water ran down Seung-jo’s face, tracing his jawline before dripping below. His wet skin glistened with a radiant sheen. After rinsing his face a few more times, Seung-jo shook off the water and pulled out a handkerchief to dry himself.  

He rinsed the handkerchief thoroughly, wrung it out, turned off the faucet, and straightened his posture. Folding the handkerchief neatly in half, and then in half again, he approached Su-eon.  

“Lean your head back.”  

Without a word, Su-eon did as he instructed. The ice-cold fabric covered her eyes. The chill seeped deep into her skin, making her shiver slightly.  

“Does it feel good?”  

“…Yes, very much.”  

“What happened earlier today?”  

“Nothing.”  

“Something did.”  

“I said nothing happened.”  

The childish back-and-forth continued for a little while, with the handkerchief still over her eyes.  

“It did.”  

“It didn’t.”  

“You come back with red eyes, and you’re saying nothing happened?”  

Standing behind Su-eon, Seung-jo firmly supported her shoulders and placed his palm on the back of her neck, gently massaging it. The strength in his grip made Su-eon sharply inhale.