Chapter 29

“And the burner phone dealer?”

“We’ve got him, but there are no records. Says he only takes cash and hands over the devices—claims he has no way of knowing who bought what.”

“Keep helping him remember.”

The subordinate nodded at Taeheon’s order.  

That smuggler they had once dragged to an abandoned building in Incheon had eventually *recovered* his forgotten memories—with a little *help* from Taeheon’s men.  

It always worked.  

“If he doesn’t want to die, he’ll figure it out.”

“Yes, sir.”

No one could afford to take Taeheon’s words lightly.  

For instance, his last statement wasn’t a *threat*.  

It was a promise.  

“We’re looking into the taxis in the area, but as you know, there were a lot of cars passing through. We’ve confirmed she got into a taxi from behind the hospital, but the CCTV footage doesn’t show the license plate. We’re checking nearby dash cams as well.”

“Are you handling it properly? No loose ends?”

“Of course. These are the same people we’ve always worked with. Some of them are even old friends of the chairman.”

Having police officers who exchanged favors with them—who even received gifts from the Kwon family during the holidays—made everything much easier.  

It was something Kwon Sungwhan always said: *You have to work with the ones who have power.*  

Taeheon let out a dry, humorless chuckle.  

“Didn’t think the chairman would ever be useful to me.”

His subordinate stole a cautious glance at him.  

Anyone close to Taeheon knew how strained his relationship with Kwon Sungwhan was.  

“Sir, you should get some rest.”

Taeheon’s eyelids flickered.  

The blood vessels in his eyes had burst, staining the whites with streaks of pink.  

Thin, red cracks traced the edges like fractured glass.  

He had always been the type to make people wonder *when does he even sleep?* But lately, it was worse than ever.  

Since this whole mess with the *young madam*, he hadn’t taken a single moment to rest.  

“I’m fine.”

“But still—”

“I said I’m fine. Do your job.”

The sharp command shut the subordinate up instantly.  

Having worked under him for years, the man was now certain of one thing—until this was resolved, Taeheon would remain exactly like this.  

Once he set his sights on something, he burrowed in, relentless.  

If they wanted him to stop, there was only one solution.  

They had to find Yaein.  

The sudden ring of a phone cut through the air.  

His subordinate checked the caller ID.  

A sharp inhale.  

“Sir. We think we found the taxi.”

When he turned back, he flinched.  

Taeheon was already staring at him.  

His gaze was unnerving—sunken, bloodshot, burning with something unreadable.  

His eyes had gotten worse, as if pools of blood had settled beneath them.  

The man swallowed dryly and finished his report.  

“She went to Busan Station.”

***

Grandmother used to sell dried seafood at the market.  

Their house was always filled with the pungent scent of fish and squid drying in the sun.  

The neighborhood kids would pull Yein’s hair and tease her, saying she smelled like fish.  

“Can’t we stop selling this?” Little Yaein had whined, throwing a tantrum.  

Her grandmother had looked troubled—sad, even.  

From that moment on, Yaein helped her prepare the dried seafood.  

She was scared of the kids’ taunts, but she was more scared of making her grandmother sad.  

*If I make Grandma suffer, she might leave me too.*  

*I might wake up one morning, and she’ll be gone.*  

*Just like Mom.*  

Now, the smell of dried squid lingered in the air.  

Her mother chewed on a thinly sliced piece, dipping it in red pepper sauce, looking at Yaein with a conflicted expression.  

“You’re really planning to stay here?”

Her disapproval was written all over her face, but Yein pretended not to notice.  

“Can’t I?”

“It’s not that you can’t, but…” Mi-ryeong trailed off before gesturing around the small living room with a squid leg.  

“Look around. This isn’t a place for three people. It’s barely enough for two.”

She wasn’t wrong.  

A single room, one bathroom, a cramped veranda, and a tiny living space—it was the right size for one person.  

The living room was already cluttered with a drying rack, stacked boxes, a small TV, and a floor table, leaving barely any room to move.  

A black apron hung from the clothing rack. A name tag was attached, likely a uniform for work.  

*Choi Mi-ryeong.*

Seeing her mother’s name after so long felt strangely foreign.  

It was as if she were reading it for the first time in her life.  

On the drying rack, men’s and women’s undergarments were mixed together.  

Feeling like she was intruding on someone else’s private life, Yaein quickly shifted her gaze to the plate of squid.  

“That man from earlier… is he your husband?”

The man who had scanned her up and down the moment she arrived had disappeared not long after, seemingly uninterested in an emotional mother-daughter reunion.  

Since they lived together, she figured he might be a stepfather.  

Mi-ryeong let out a scoffing laugh.  

“Well, if we live together, I guess that makes him my husband.”

She waved the thought away and continued,  

“Anyway, how’s some rich girl from Seoul supposed to live in a place like this? You know the hot water barely works, right?”

She rambled on about how the drainage system sometimes backed up.  

She was trying to scare Yaein away.  

“Can I just stay until I have the baby?”

Yaein had nowhere else to go.  

If she left now, she’d have to rent a motel room, but she couldn’t justify wasting money when she was preparing to raise a child alone.  

Mi-ryeong took her time before responding, glancing at Yaein with a calculating look.  

“Well… it’s not impossible, but…”

She hesitated, then asked,  

“You got money for rent?”

Yaein stayed silent.  

“You know, more people means higher water and electricity bills.”

Mi-ryeong added in a playful tone, offering her the last piece of squid.  

Yaein stared blankly at the scraps left on the plate.  

The fishy smell, once revolting, no longer bothered her.  

Maybe it was because of the memories of living with Grandma.  

“Have you visited Grandma’s columbarium?”

“Huh?”

“I told you about it last time we met.”

A year ago, after hearing from Serin that her mother had contacted her father, Yaein had gone to find her immediately.  

Her mother had said she was living near her hometown.  

She had always been so desperate to leave that place. And yet, she had returned.  

At the time, Yaein’s family was already in turmoil over the revelation that she was an illegitimate child.  

If they ever found out she was trying to meet her birth mother, it would have caused another disaster.  

That was why she had secretly gotten a new phone and kept in contact without her husband knowing.  

Not that Taeheon would have cared.  

He had known everything from the beginning.  

But after hearing his father call her *a woman born from who knows what gutter* and returning home, she had felt the overwhelming urge to hide her mother from the world.  

Then came the guilt.  

Maybe that was part of why she had agreed so easily when her mother reached out for help.  

Back then, her mother had looked much neater than she did now—her dyed brown hair tied back, dressed in dark, modest clothing, tears in her eyes as she faced Yaein.  

She had said *she had no choice*.  

She had asked for forgiveness.  

She had said she had missed Yaein and her grandmother.  

That she hadn’t reached out before because of *shame*.  

She had heard that Yaein had married well and was living comfortably, but right now, *she* was struggling.  

That she had no one to turn to but her own daughter.  

Now, Mi-ryeong’s voice trailed off as she chewed loudly on the squid.  

“Been too busy trying to survive. I keep meaning to visit.”

The memory of her mother gripping her hands, sobbing, saying she *regretted* not being there when Grandmother passed—it still weighed on her heart.  

Looking back, how *obvious* had that performance been?  

And yet, Yaein had wanted to believe it.  

Even now.  

“I missed you.”

Mi-ryeong forced an awkward smile at Yaein’s quiet confession.  

It was a stiff, uncomfortable expression, making it clear she didn’t know how to respond.  

“Last time, I couldn’t stay long. I had so many things I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t make time. I had to sneak out from my in-laws.”

She had felt guilty about that, too—marrying into that family, making it seem as though she was ashamed of her mother.  

Because Yaein *knew* what it was like to be treated as someone’s shame.  

“Right, right. But anyway, why did you come down here?”

Still forcing her smile, Mi-ryeong quickly changed the subject. 

“You didn’t… get divorced, did you?”

She leaned forward, her eyes flicking toward Yaein’s hands, searching for a wedding ring.  

“Oh, you still have it. Whew, I was worried you got kicked out or something. What a relief! Do you know how hard it is to marry into a rich family? At least you had your father to help with that.”

“Father…”

Yaein’s voice caught in her throat.

Her father—whenever Yaein’s stepmother scolded her at the dinner table, he would look at her like she was an insect.  

He had dragged her into his home whenever he felt like it, only to throw her out when it was convenient.  

And when he needed her again, he had come looking.  

The list went on and on.  

She had once imagined collapsing into her mother’s arms and spilling out all of her sorrows.  

Yaein forced a smile, mirroring Mi-ryeong.  

“I’m preparing for a divorce.”

“What?! Why?”

Mi-ryeong dropped the piece of squid she had been chewing, her face a mask of shock.  

“Does your husband hit you?”

Her gaze flicked toward the faint bruises that still lingered on Yaein’s skin.  

She had noticed.  

Her voice turned softer, more probing.  

Yaein shook her head, but Mi-ryeong didn’t even wait for her response before clicking her tongue.  

“Men are all the same. Still, maybe try to endure a little. You know, they say you can’t change people, but nowadays, with enough money, you can get counseling, therapy—all that.”

Yaein stayed silent.  

Mi-ryeong exaggerated a shrug.  

“Then again! You’re still young. No need to put up with that. It’s not like it’s the old days. There are plenty of good men out there. And you’re pretty—just like me!”

It was meant as flattery, but it only made Yaein feel hollow.  

She forced another smile.  

*Do we really look alike?*  

If they stood side by side and compared their features, there would probably be undeniable similarities.  

And yet, she felt like she was looking at a stranger.  

Even when she compared this woman to the mother in her childhood memories, nothing aligned.  

Had she always laughed this lightly, moved with such carelessness?  

After so long apart, Mi-ryeong felt less like an adult and more like a child who had yet to grow up.  

Just eighteen years apart—that’s all that separated them.  

As always, Yaein tried to find an excuse to understand her mother.  

*Telling herself that back then, Mom must have had a reason to leave me.*  

*That even now, she must have one.*  

“Will they give you a good settlement?”

Mi-ryeong scooted closer, shoving aside the small table to reduce the space between them.  

The closeness felt suffocating.  

“No. Not a single cent.”

Yaein cut her off deliberately.  

It wasn’t a lie.  

Her father-in-law, seething over her *betrayal*, had made it clear—he wouldn’t give her so much as a dime.  

Disappointment darkened Mi-ryeong’s face.  

And with that, Yaein felt disappointed, too.  

“Just let me stay until I find somewhere else. It’ll only be a few days. I’ll be gone soon.”

“Hmm… well, okay.”

The reluctant answer came after a pause.  

Yaein opened the bag she had kept on her lap the entire time.  

She took out her wallet and handed over some bills.  

Mi-ryeong’s expression brightened instantly.  

“Perfect timing! I just washed the blankets yesterday. I’ll clean up the living room and lay them out for you.”

Her sudden enthusiasm felt overdone, almost theatrical.  

Even in the middle of it, Yaein felt nothing close to comfort.  

“I’m going out for a bit to look around the neighborhood.”

With that excuse, she stood up.  

Mi-ryeong didn’t even bother to offer to show her around.  

She simply let her go.  

Coming up the stairs had made her heart pound with nerves.  

But walking down them now, she felt nothing.  

Trailing her fingers along the ivy creeping up the railing, she continued her descent.  

There was only an empty feeling inside her.