Chapter 1

A luxury sedan slowly crossed a bridge over the Han River, cutting through the sunlight.

Sahae sat silently by the window, her gaze fixed outside.

Whenever the sunlight shimmered across the gently flowing river, its faint reflections danced in her eyes.

She stared blankly at the water as though she might be drawn into it. Then, suddenly, a slight vibration tickled her fingertips.

Her small clutch bag, which she was holding in her hand, was vibrating faintly.

Sahae slowly opened it and took out her phone from its neatly organized interior.

—Mother-in-law.

Three short, unmistakable syllables appeared on the screen. Just seeing them made her heart begin to beat irregularly.

A strange tightness crept into her chest.

From somewhere deep inside her, a breath filled with tension, pressure, and suppressed emotions slowly rose.

After taking a small breath to compose herself, Sahae pressed the answer button.

[Are you on your way?]

“Yes. I’m crossing the Han River now.”

Her mother’s voice came through immediately, tinged with displeasure.

[Well, times have certainly changed. Back in my day, I would have rolled up my sleeves and started working the day before my in-laws’ ancestral rites…]

Her trailing words carried an unmistakable implication: You certainly have it easy.

Sahae pressed her lips together and glanced out the window again without responding.

“There isn’t much traffic, so I should be there soon.”

Her cautious reply was met with a brief, emotionless response before the call abruptly ended.

A long, suppressed sigh escaped Sahae’s lips.

In the reflection on the window, exhaustion and resignation that had been weighing on her for years gradually spread across her face.

The scenery outside had changed before she realized it. The Han River was growing distant, replaced by the gray concrete landscape of the city.

It seemed lunchtime had begun. Office workers filled the streets, walking in small groups.

Some playfully tapped their friends on the shoulders and burst into laughter, while others chatted away with their eyes fixed on their phone screens.

Even amid the noise of the city, their laughter stood out.

Short, bright bursts of laughter. There was something strangely vibrant about the sound.

Sahae’s gaze lingered on them for a moment.

There had been a time when she laughed like that, too.

A time when she went out for lunch with her friends, walked down the street holding a cup of coffee, and laughed at silly jokes.

But the moment she entered the Munseong family, her laughter had gradually stiffened beneath the weight of something called etiquette and dignity.

Before she knew it, her entire life had come to be defined by a single title.

The wife of the Munseong family.

Sahae unconsciously looked at her reflection in the window.

Perfectly arranged hair, subtle makeup, and a composed smile.

To anyone looking at her, she was the very picture of a refined daughter-in-law befitting the prestigious Munseong family.

Yet somewhere deep inside her, a tiny crack had begun to form.

Hwa Sahae.

She silently called her own name.

Hwa Sahae.

Every time she pronounced it in her mind, a bitter taste lingered in her mouth.

Only my name is bright and beautiful.

At that very moment, in the main conference hall of Munseong Group’s headquarters.

The gray sunlight of the late afternoon seeped into the conference room through its glass walls.

Despite the soft light, an inexplicable chill hung over the conference table.

The meeting had already dragged on for well over three hours. Fatigue and tension were visibly intertwined on everyone’s shoulders.

At the head of the table, a man loosened his tie.

He was Moon Joo-hyuk, the chairman of Munseong Group.

He let out a quiet breath before picking up his pen.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Each time its metal tip struck the wooden table, the steady rhythm disturbed the silence of the conference hall.

It wasn’t merely a habit.

It was a sign that Joo-hyuk’s patience was wearing thin.

“So, how many hours have we been going around in circles discussing the same things?”

At that single sentence, the atmosphere in the conference room froze completely.

He didn’t even raise his eyes.

But the pressure in his voice alone was more than enough.

The meeting’s agenda concerned the launch content for Moonbox, a newly acquired OTT platform.

The market had long since been dominated by global conglomerates. Even within the group, many considered the launch of Moonbox a reckless undertaking.

But to him, this was more than just another new business venture.

During his grandfather’s and father’s generations, Munseong had been synonymous with steel, construction, and electronics.

But the world had changed.

Now, the world was built not with buildings, but with stories.

People dreamed through screens, interpreted reality through them, and consumed the world through the content they watched.

Content had become the new economy.

Yet every proposal presented at today’s meeting was painfully outdated. They were nothing more than repetitions of clichés that had already flooded the market.

“Let’s end the meeting here. I doubt anything new will come out of continuing.”

Only after he left did the conference room finally seem to breathe again.

Joo-hyuk was walking down a quiet corridor when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

He took it out and checked the screen.

—Today is Grandfather’s memorial service. I’ve arrived.

It was a short, neatly worded message.

Just as always, the tone was polite, and even the punctuation was perfectly proper.

It was from his wife, Sahae.

He stared at the screen for a moment before the corner of his mouth twisted slightly.

“She got there early, too. Honestly… Hwa Sahae, you’re such an obedient little thing.”

A brief smile crossed his lips.

It was neither particularly unpleasant nor comfortable. There was something vaguely displeased about it.

As soon as Sahae arrived at Munwonjae, she changed into the white mourning clothes her mother-in-law had prepared.

Standing before the mirror, she slowly steadied her breathing. The hem of her white garment lightly brushed the floor.

The marble floor felt especially cold today. The chill rising through her feet seemed to spread all the way to her heart.

From the kitchen came a continuous stream of hurried footsteps and the clattering of pots and pans. The household staff moved about busily.

Sahae stood awkwardly amid the commotion.

There wasn’t anything in particular she needed to do.

But neither was she allowed to simply do nothing.

Maintaining her place in that household was every bit as difficult and exhausting as standing there doing nothing.

As a daughter-in-law and someone responsible for upholding the reputation of a chaebol family, her role was to move silently among the elders and quietly carry out their instructions.

Within the strict hierarchy of this household, she was someone who always had to move without drawing attention.

Before long, the ancestral ritual table had been perfectly arranged.

Sun-ae inspected the dishes one by one, narrowing her eyes as she did so.

Without saying a word, Sahae lowered her head and straightened the white silk ribbons on her clothing.

“Dear, leave the front door open so the ancestors can enter.”

Sahae drew a short breath.

“Yes, Mother.”

She rose onto her toes and walked away.

Careful not to let the hem of her white garment drag across the floor, she instinctively held her breath.

Her steps were so light that it was almost as though she were walking on air.

This was a place where even the sound of her footsteps seemed forbidden.

When she reached the entrance, the cool outdoor air swept inside.

Sahae stood before the door for a moment, composing herself before slowly placing her hand on the handle.

The doors of this house had always felt heavy.

The metal beneath her fingertips was cold, and somehow unfamiliar, as though she were touching it for the very first time.

The moment she opened the door, it didn’t simply swing outward.

Instead, someone on the other side pulled it toward them with considerable force.

Sahae’s body lurched forward.

A brief gasp escaped her lips before her forehead struck something solid.

“Why are you standing out here?”

A low, heavy voice.

It was Joo-hyuk.

Still in his arms, Sahae blinked and looked up at him.

His face was familiar, yet somehow still felt like that of a stranger.

“Are you planning to stand there all day?”

As though suddenly coming to her senses, Sahae straightened herself.

“Oh… Mother told me to leave the door open so the ancestors could enter.”

She brushed her disheveled hair back with her fingertips and stepped aside, trying to act as though nothing had happened.

Joo-hyuk looked at her for a moment before silently stepping inside.

Sahae remained where she was.

His retreating figure gradually disappeared from her sight.

The cold air, the scent of incense, and the oppressive silence.

The area around her heart slowly sank.

As the incense smoke began to rise, the atmosphere inside the room grew even heavier.

In the silence, so profound that even time seemed to have stopped, Sahae lowered her head and closed her eyes.

She quietly clasped her hands together.

Just as she always had, she silently fulfilled her role.

She was the daughter-in-law of this family and Moon Joo-hyuk’s wife.

And yet, not once had she ever truly felt that she belonged here.

Even so, today, once again, she filled her designated place without a single flaw.

Quietly. Without leaving a trace.

As though she didn’t exist at all.

When the incense had nearly burned away, Sahae slowly raised her head.

Through the flickering candlelight, she caught a glimpse of Joo-hyuk’s profile.

Moon Joo-hyuk.

He was her first love.

He had always been at the center of the world.

Wherever he went, people’s eyes naturally followed him, and he was the kind of man who accepted their attention as though it were only natural.

For Sahae, simply watching him from afar had once been enough.

Perhaps that was what admiring someone was supposed to be like.

A love that seemed as though it would shatter if you got too close, making it safer to admire the person from a distance.

It was all right because it was her first love.

After all, didn’t people always say that first loves were never meant to come true?

To Sahae, Moon Joo-hyuk hadn’t been a man who belonged in the real world.

He had been an unreachable sparkle, a presence closer to an illusion than reality.

She had never dreamed that she would one day marry someone like him.

But their marriage hadn’t been the result of love.

It was an old promise, an arrangement that had already been agreed upon in their grandparents’ generation and passed down through the years.