Yoo-Na returned to her room with the remains of her earlier amusement still clinging to her face.
She closed the door.
Kicked off her heels.
Dropped onto the edge of the bed.
"…What a circus."
Her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen.
Mrs. Han
Of course.
The smile vanished immediately.
She let it ring twice before answering.
"What."
No greeting came.
No warmth.
Only her mother's clipped voice.
"Did you speak to Ha-Joon today?"
Yoo-Na looked up at the ceiling.
"…Hello to you too."
"Answer the question."
"No."
A sharp inhale came through the speaker.
"What do you mean no?"
"I mean the word no still works in this language."
"Yoo-Na."
That tone.
The one sharpened over years.
"You are living in that house for a reason."
Yoo-Na stood and walked toward the mirror.
"Yes. I know. Free wallpaper with rich people attached."
"Do not joke with me."
"I'm trying not to cry from boredom."
Mrs. Han's voice dropped lower.
"You were supposed to get closer to him."
"I wasn't aware I was a government project."
"You were supposed to make him interested."
Yoo-Na stared at her reflection.
Perfect face.
Tired eyes.
"I'm not doing that."
Silence.
Then colder:
"Excuse me?"
"I said I'm not doing that."
Her mother laughed once.
A terrible sound.
"You think you have a choice?"
"Yes."
"No, you don't."
Yoo-Na's jaw tightened.
"I don't even like him."
"That doesn't matter."
There it was.
Simple.
Clean.
Ugly.
Yoo-Na nodded slowly to herself.
"Right."
Mrs. Han continued, voice brisk and practical.
"You smile at him. You stay near him. You become the better option."
"I'm not applying for a job."
"You are applying for security."
"I'd rather be broke."
"Don't be stupid."
"I'd rather be honest."
"That is why you fail."
The words landed with old familiarity.
Too practiced to be spontaneous.
Mrs. Han didn't stop.
"Min-Ji is moving faster than you."
"Then let her sprint."
"She may become the daughter-in-law."
"Congratulations to whoever cleans up after that."
"Yoo-Na!"
Yoo-Na laughed dryly.
"You know what's funny? You never ask if I'm okay."
"I ask what matters."
That one stung despite expectation.
Yoo-Na went quiet.
Mrs. Han mistook silence for surrender.
"Listen carefully. If you don't secure your future now, do not come crying later."
"My future?"
"Yes."
"You mean your future."
A pause.
Then venom.
"Ungrateful child."
"There she is."
"You live off everything I built."
"You mean everything you traded."
"How dare you."
"How rehearsed."
Mrs. Han's breathing sharpened through the line.
"You think beauty lasts forever? You think youth waits? Use what you have while it matters."
Yoo-Na's face changed then.
Not angry.
Just tired.
"I'm tired of pretending I want men I don't want, homes I don't want, lives I don't want."
Mrs. Han scoffed.
"Drama. You always were dramatic."
"No," Yoo-Na said softly.
"I was always trapped."
Silence.
Then the final strike.
"If you continue like this, you'll end up with nothing."
Yoo-Na looked at herself in the mirror again.
Then answered calmly:
"With you, I already did."
And ended the call.
The room became still.
No commands.
No insults.
No expectations buzzing through the speaker.
Yoo-Na slowly lowered the phone.
Her hand trembled once.
Only once.
She exhaled deeply and wiped beneath one eye before any tear fully formed.
"Embarrassing," she muttered.
She walked to the window and stared into the dark estate grounds.
Somewhere in this house, Ji-Ah was still suffering for a lie.
Somewhere, Ha-Joon was carrying storms in silence.
Somewhere, Min-Ji was still plotting in perfume.
Yoo-Na rested her forehead lightly against the cool glass.
"…Ji-Ah," she whispered.
"Be quick."
Then after a beat:
"Before all of us rot in here."
---------
Min-Ji found Madam in the private sitting room just after midnight.
The room was warm.
Too warm.
Lamp light pooled softly over expensive furniture and carefully arranged flowers that had never known real weather.
Madam sat upright on the sofa, reading documents with glasses low on her nose.
She did not look up when Min-Ji entered.
"You're still awake."
Min-Ji closed the door behind her gently.
"I couldn't sleep."
Madam turned a page.
"That usually means you want something."
The words were dry enough to crack stone.
Min-Ji stood there for a moment.
Then slowly walked closer.
Her eyes already wet.
Perfect timing.
Perfect shine.
"Mother…"
That made Madam finally glance up.
She disliked being called that by almost everyone.
But tolerated it when useful.
"What happened now?"
Min-Ji pressed her lips together as if holding herself together by force.
"I don't know what to do anymore."
Madam removed her glasses.
That alone meant attention had been granted.
"Speak clearly."
Min-Ji sat down carefully on the edge of the opposite chair.
Hands clasped.
Voice trembling just enough.
"I only wanted to protect this family."
Madam watched her in silence.
"I only wanted to defend my place here… defend your reputation after everything Ji-Ah caused."
A tear slipped.
Measured.
Slow.
Min-Ji quickly wiped it like she hadn't wanted to be seen.
"I never wanted things to become this ugly."
Madam's expression remained unreadable.
"You accused someone of theft."
"She humiliated me first."
"You sent her to jail."
"I was angry."
"You enjoyed being angry."
That struck sharper than Min-Ji expected.
She lowered her gaze immediately.
"I made mistakes."
Madam leaned back.
"Yes."
Min-Ji's breathing shook.
"But Ha-Joon…"
Now there it was.
The true subject.
Madam noticed instantly.
"What about him."
Min-Ji's eyes filled again.
"He hates me."
Madam said nothing.
"He won't even look at me properly now. He speaks to me like I'm a stranger."
Her voice cracked.
"I did all of this because I wanted to secure my future here… because I wanted to become his wife… because I thought if I stood firmly, he would see me as someone worthy beside him."
Madam's brows shifted slightly.
Not sympathy.
Assessment.
Min-Ji continued softly:
"But the more I fight, the further he goes."
Another tear.
This one faster.
"I'm tired."
She covered her face briefly.
"I'm so tired of trying to earn love by suffering."
Madam's eyes narrowed at that sentence.
Clever girl.
She knew how to package ambition as pain.
Min-Ji lowered her hands again.
"If withdrawing the case will calm him… if it will make him stop looking at me with disgust…"
Her lips trembled.
"…then I'll do it."
Silence settled.
Madam studied her for a long moment.
"You want to withdraw because of Ha-Joon."
Min-Ji nodded weakly.
"Yes."
"Not because Ji-Ah is innocent."
That pause lasted too long.
Then Min-Ji whispered:
"I… don't know anymore."
Wrong answer.
She corrected instantly.
"I mean… I know she may not have done it."
Madam almost smiled.
Almost.
"You cry prettily," Madam said at last.
Min-Ji froze.
"…Mother?"
"It's a skill."
The room went colder.
Madam set her papers aside.
"You want my permission to retreat without looking defeated."
Min-Ji's fingers tightened.
"I'm not retreating."
"You are."
Madam stood slowly.
"And that is not always weakness."
She walked to the drinks cabinet, poured water, then handed the glass to Min-Ji.
Min-Ji accepted it with both hands.
"Listen carefully," Madam said.
"If you withdraw now, do it gracefully. Do not look cornered. Do not look rejected."
Min-Ji's eyes flickered.
"But I was rejected."
"Then hide it."
A beat.
Madam's tone sharpened.
"No one respects a woman who begs after losing."
Min-Ji swallowed hard.
"Yes, Mother."
Madam continued.
"You will say you acted emotionally. You will say you do not wish to divide the family. You will say mercy guided you."
Min-Ji nodded quickly.
"Yes."
"And if Ha-Joon softens?"
Min-Ji looked up hopefully.
Madam's gaze was ice.
"Then use it better next time."
Min-Ji's breath caught.
Relief and humiliation mixing strangely in her face.
She stood and bowed her head slightly.
"Thank you."
Madam picked up her documents again.
"I did not help you."
Min-Ji hesitated.
Then turned to leave.
Just before reaching the door, she heard Madam add without looking up:
"And Min-Ji."
She stopped.
"Yes?"
"If you must cry…"
A page turned.
"…at least cry for something real one day."
Min-Ji's face tightened.
Then smoothed.
She opened the door and walked out with tears still shining.
Victim enough for the hallway.
Not enough for the room she'd left behind.