Chapter 34

Parting this way wasn’t so bad. At least nothing terrible had happened.  

Yaein busily justified the meager farewell to herself.  

“Let’s leave together while we’re at it.”  

As Yaein lifted her suitcase, Miryung suddenly made a suggestion.  

“I’ll buy you some clothes before you go.”  

Surprised by the unexpected offer, Yaein hesitated.  

Was this her mother’s way of apologizing? Maybe, despite everything, Miryung did feel guilty about Yaein.  

Even after overhearing the conversation her mother had with her lover, that thought still crossed her mind.  

Perhaps, because Yaein was still her child, she wanted to do something for her before letting her go.  

“You don’t have any clothes. And the baby needs some, too.”  

“The baby won’t be here for a while. Besides, I have to leave soon.”  

“What’s the rush? It won’t take long.”  

“I have an appointment.”  

“Is it that urgent?”  

Yaein checked the time.  

In truth, it wasn’t urgent.  

She had only promised to meet Gyeongju’s people before noon, and there was still plenty of time left.  

It was strange to see her mother holding onto her like this at the very end. Maybe now that their time together was ending, she did feel something for Yaein and the grandchild she hadn’t even met yet.  

“I’m still the grandmother, so let me at least buy one outfit.”  

The shyly spoken words melted Yaein’s heart.  

She nodded and picked up her suitcase. It wasn’t heavy—there wasn’t much to carry.  

She knew she had to leave soon, but she couldn’t resist wanting baby clothes.  

She wanted to dress the baby in them and tell them, Your grandmother bought these for you.  

She didn’t know when they’d meet again. But at least she could keep one small gift, just one.  

The clothing stores Miryung took her to were all quite similar. It was a small town, and there was only one shop that sold newborn clothes.  

“You don’t have to buy me anything. Just something for the baby.”  

Yaein pointed at the infant gowns, stopping Miryung, who was browsing the dresses.  

“No, let’s get yours first.”  

“We don’t have much time. This is enough.”  

Yaein picked out a soft beige gown.  

It wasn’t expensive, either.  

Seeing her head straight to the counter with just that, Miryung’s expression grew complicated.  

“You know, even when you were little… never mind.”  

It seemed like she was about to say something but then abruptly turned away.  

Before Yaein could ask, Miryung called for the cashier in a hurried, flustered manner.  

After leaving the store, Yaein peeked into the paper bag at the newborn gown.  

A foolish sense of happiness washed over her.  

Why does this make me so happy?  

“Are you sure that’s all you need?”  

“This is enough. I’ll keep it safe and dress the baby in it when they’re born.”  

Miryung gave her a strange look as Yaein hugged the paper bag close with satisfaction.  

“You were always wary of me, even as a baby.”  

“…I was?”  

“You rarely cried, even for a child. You were quick to give up, to yield. You don’t take after me, or your father. You were just… born that way, I guess.”  

“That’s not… because I was okay with it.”  

It wasn’t that she had no desires.  

She hadn’t given up because she didn’t want things—she had given up because she was afraid of being resented.  

She had acted good in hopes of being loved.  

“I have the clothes now, so I really should go. Thank you.”  

But now, she had to leave.  

She had promised herself that she would allow herself just this one thing, and she had received it.  

She had learned to be satisfied with little.  

Because otherwise, life would only be harsher.  

“You’re leaving now?”  

Miryung’s reaction was visibly flustered.  

“Let me take you there. Where are you going?”  

“No, I’ll go alone.”

“You don’t know the streets here well. We took quite a few turns to get in, so if you’re heading back to the main road, this way is faster.”

Before Yaein could refuse, Miryung grabbed her firmly and pulled her along. She tried to decline several times, but Miryung was relentless. For such a small frame, she had an unexpectedly strong grip.

Miryung led her from alley to alley. The area was already quiet, but as they went deeper, it became eerily deserted.

“Is this really the way out?”  

Yaein asked, hesitating.  

Miryung stopped and turned around.  

For a moment, she looked like a stranger—someone Yaein had never met before.  

Unease crept in.  

The alleys they had passed through suddenly felt oppressive.  

Yaein wanted to turn back and get away, but she really didn’t know these streets well.  

If she moved recklessly, she might get lost.  

“We’ll be on the main road soon. I just need to make a quick call.”  

Miryung pulled out her phone, tapping her foot anxiously against the pavement.  

The alley was so narrow that only one vehicle could pass through at a time.  

An old tailor shop’s sign hung unlit, and bright green weeds poked through the cracked asphalt.  

A van appeared, slowly making its way down the alley.  

Miryung gave a small wave.  

As the van slowed to a stop and the door slid open, chills ran down Yaein’s arms.  

She needed to get out of there.  

She tried to turn and run in the opposite direction, but Miryung blocked her path.  

The van’s door fully opened.  

A man inside, half hanging out over the edge, grabbed Yaein’s arm.  

She thrashed against his grip, struggling as he dragged her inside.  

The plastic bag containing the baby clothes slipped from her grasp, falling to the ground.  

“Mom—!”  

She barely managed a cry before a rag with a foul smell was pressed against her mouth.  

Through her blurring vision, she caught a glimpse of Miryung.  

She was standing still, watching it all unfold.  

Expressionless.  

Her vision darkened.  

The van door slammed shut. 

***

The Chinatown of Incheon, coinciding with the festival season, was bustling with neon lights and intoxicated revelers. Red banners strung overhead fluttered in the wind.  

Most restaurants were busy welcoming tourists, with intermittent calls from staff trying to attract customers.  

“What the hell? Are they really not taking any customers?”  

In front of a Chinese restaurant, which had all its lights on despite supposedly being closed, a couple stood side by side, grumbling. The woman had just been inside, only to be turned away with a curt notice that they weren’t accepting any guests.  

“Who closes a restaurant on a night like this?”  

“They said it’s fully booked.”  

“Booked? They reserved the whole damn restaurant?”  

The man frowned, glaring at the multi-story establishment. Just how many people were coming that they couldn’t even spare a single table?  

“Babe, look at them.”  

Noticing people approaching the entrance, the woman tugged at her boyfriend’s elbow.  

A group of men in suits followed a single man leading the way. As they neared, the woman’s lips parted in surprise.  

His striking height caught the eye first, but as he approached, his face became even more captivating—so much so that she couldn’t look away.  

“Uh, excuse me, this restaurant isn’t taking customers tonight…”  

Distracted by the handsome man’s sharp features, she stammered as she spoke.  

He turned his gaze to her just before reaching the large, gold-dragon-embellished doors.  

For a fleeting moment, excitement flickered in her chest—until she met his stare.  

His cold, piercing eyes made her flinch instinctively.  

For the first time, she understood what people meant when they said someone’s gaze was chilling. She reflexively pulled her coat tighter around herself.  

The man in the suit walked past her without a word and disappeared into the restaurant.  

What the hell? I was just trying to be nice.  

Flustered and a little annoyed, she tried to brush it off.  

“Hey, how come they didn’t get turned away?”  

Her boyfriend, who had been dead silent while the striking man passed by, pointed at the restaurant. They had expected him to come right back out, just like they had—but the door remained shut.  

Are they the ones who made the reservation? If so, it seemed like an awfully small group to take up the whole place.  

Were they expecting an entire motorcade to pull up with more guests? She glanced around, but there were only tourists milling about.  

“Maybe their reservation got canceled? Should we go back and ask again?”  

If they could somehow get inside, they might get a chance to dine in the same space as that mysterious man. Maybe she could steal another glance at him during the meal.  

The earlier unease from his icy gaze had faded, replaced by renewed curiosity. With newfound determination, she stepped toward the entrance.  

But before she could reach the door, men began stepping out from inside.  

The same group who had entered just moments ago.  

That was fast. Had they been turned away after all?  

Hopeful, the woman scanned the group, looking for the man who had captivated her.  

“…Huh?”  

“What? Aren’t we going in?”  

“No, it’s just…”  

Something felt off.

Among the crowd, only that man was missing.  

Even if one tried not to see him, it would be difficult for him to go unnoticed—yet he was nowhere to be found.  

Instead, among the men in suits, someone flicked a lighter but, after receiving a quiet reprimand from a colleague, silently lowered it.  

Were they stepping outside for a moment before their reserved guests arrived? As the woman approached the restaurant entrance again, the man holding the lighter blocked her path.  

“We’re not open for business today.”  

His curt and sharp tone left no room for argument. The woman hesitated, unable to say anything, and stepped back.  

She turned to look at the restaurant, still brightly illuminated. By all appearances, it seemed open. As she quietly grumbled to herself, a sense of unease crept in—there was no smell of food.  

While those outside were left to wonder, inside the restaurant, Taeheon was removing his coat with the assistance of a staff member.  

In stark contrast to the bustling street outside, the interior was eerily quiet. There was no sound of movement except for Taeheon’s own.  

The restaurant was a spacious, multi-story establishment. The ceiling stretched high above the first floor, and the second floor was lined with private rooms accessible via a stairway along the railing. Rather than a mere restaurant, the place evoked the atmosphere of an old guesthouse.  

In the vast, empty space, only one round table was occupied.  

It was set in the very center of the first floor, beneath a long, hanging chandelier that swayed faintly.  

In the brightly lit but otherwise vacant restaurant, there was only one human silhouette.  

The man, seated at the yet-to-be-served table, stood up the moment he saw Taeheon, a wide smile spreading across his face.  

“Good evening.”  

His hair was slicked back without a single strand out of place, and his frame was tall and wiry, almost spindly.  

Taeheon returned the greeting and took the seat across from him.  

“You must be Executive Director Kwon Taeheon, correct?”  

There was a trace of a foreign accent, but his Korean was impressively fluent.  

The man, who introduced himself as Chen, was the president of a Chinese trading company—or at least, that was the official title. In reality, the company was little more than a front.  

Chen regarded Taeheon with open intrigue, his gaze almost clinging to him.  

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you. They say you’re a man of strict principles.”  

“Strict?”