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Chapter 27
Before her regression, Kang Dasom’s life had been nothing but failure and disappointment. Even now, she didn’t think things had changed all that much.
“You were just a big child. Even wanting to act—that was just another way to run away, wasn’t it?”
“…Maybe so.”
Yoon Jinwoo murmured, his voice small. He already knew, from past experience, that Kang Dasom never spoke falsehoods.
“Then what am I supposed to do? At this point…”
“You take revenge.”
“……”
“Do you have any idea how much those two must have mocked you? No, think about it. Just how little respect must they have had, to do something like that in your own house?”
Of course, that was only the tip of the iceberg. Jinwoo wasn’t stupid—he knew this much in his head already.
Kang Dasom’s gaze flicked to Jinwoo’s glass of liquor. Then she rose from her seat.
“Looks like you’ve finished your drink. I’ll be going.”
Jinwoo could do nothing to stop her.
Kang Dasom and Jung Hana continued to meet regularly. Every time she was with Hana, Dasom quietly gathered details—her tastes, her habits, her quirks.
“What? A performance at the foundation’s charity event? Why me?”
“All members with less than ten years are required to perform. Didn’t Miss Hana tell you?”
“She didn’t say a word.”
“Well, either way, we need the performance list finalized by next week. Tell us what you’ll be doing.”
“Wait, just me? What about the others?”
“How should I know? Either join someone else or go solo. Or you could just ask Hana to partner with you.”
“O-okay…”
The sudden demand left Lee Sooha pale. Having spent her life buried in studies, she had no experience performing in front of others.
It was Friday morning.
Since her humiliation last time, Sooha had begun arriving early to Seonam-dong. Fridays had naturally become a time when the three of them shared tea together.
That morning, she arrived even earlier, hoping Dasom would come before Hana.
“Oh my, unni. You’re early today.”
“Dasom, haha. I just happened to get here sooner than usual.”
“Really?”
Dasom handed her usual gifts to the housemaids, then sat down on the sofa. Soon, tea and desserts were brought out. She sipped her favorite black tea, calm as ever. Silence lingered between them.
Oddly enough, Dasom showed no trace of unease. Sooha, nervously taking a breath, finally broke the quiet.
“Dasom, did you hear? The Aria Foundation’s charity event next month—we’re supposed to perform.”
“Yes, I heard.”
“I don’t know what’s going on anymore. Last time they didn’t even tell me the usage hours and I was humiliated…”
The endless rules and restrictions of the foundation were becoming increasingly irritating to her.
“Didn’t it cause you any trouble?”
“Oh? But didn’t Hana unni tell you? If you ask the concierge for a protocol binder, they’ll give it to you.”
“H-huh? She did?”
Dasom tilted her head.
“She mentioned it at dinner last week, when the three of us were together. I nodded, so I thought you heard.”
“Ah… so that’s it.”
Dasom hid her sigh. The truth was, Sooha had been overwhelmed with guests from her family that day. In crowds, she easily became scatterbrained—one of her many flaws.
“Haha, seems I wasn’t paying attention. Thanks for telling me again.”
“It’s fine. So, what’s troubling you?”
“The performance. What are you going to do?”
“Ballet. It’s all I know, so I’m partnering with Hana.”
“That ballet… would it be strange if I asked to join?”
Dasom set down her teacup, feigning hesitation.
“Unni, have you ever studied ballet?”
“No, never…”
“Then it would be difficult. We’ve already been preparing for a while. Hana unni learned some as a child, so she could join smoothly. But if you came in now, we’d have to change all the choreography. And we can’t just place you randomly either.”
“Haha, you’re right. That was a foolish request. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Why not ask Hana unni again?”
At the suggestion, Sooha’s face tightened slightly. But with her wedding invitations soon to be distributed, she dared not make enemies among the Aria Club members from the start.
“How could I ask her for such a favor?”
“She used to be an idol trainee, remember? I can do ballet, but I’m hopeless at other kinds of dance. She might be able to teach you something simpler.”
“……”
“If you’re uncomfortable, I can talk to her for you.”
“No, I’ll do it. Thanks for the advice.”
Sooha hated depending on young Dasom, even for small matters.
After about thirty minutes, Jung Hana entered, neatly dressed, flaunting her brand-new department store outfit and handbag.
“What’s this? Having fun without me?”
“We only just sat down.”
“Is that so?”
As always, Hana sat with casual confidence. Sooha quickly seized the moment.
“Hana, about the charity performance… could you help me?”
“Hm? Help you? With what, unni?”
“Well, you know I’ve only ever studied. I don’t have anything to show on stage. They say the supporting roles are all filled too. But you were a trainee once, weren’t you?”
“Ah, that’s true.”
Hana answered nonchalantly, though inside she sneered. As if there’s much difference between selling your body and idol training, she thought cruelly.
“Please, Hana unni, help her. She’s getting married soon—it wouldn’t be nice if she faced trouble at the event.”
Dasom’s interjection tilted the balance. Hana, after pretending to deliberate, finally sighed.
“All right. I can teach you some simple moves.”
“Thank you.”
Relief swept Sooha’s face.
Once she left to visit Yoon Jihwan upstairs, Hana nudged Dasom with her elbow.
“Was that your doing?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a genius. The others said she didn’t even know the usage rules last time and got thrown out.”
“You mentioned before that she ignored you when you told her about the protocol binder.”
“See? That’s what happens when you don’t listen properly.”
Hana smirked. She had taken Dasom’s advice, deliberately speaking up when Sooha was too distracted to notice.
“When it comes to dancing, I can manage plenty.”
“Then I’ll have to learn from you too, someday.”
“Anytime.”
When Sooha came back downstairs, they carried on with another topic as if nothing had happened.
The ballet studio.
Dasom pressed a button, and a large Bluetooth speaker filled the room with gentle music.
She steadied her breath at the barre, then walked to the center.
Her toes brushed the floor, drawing a line in silence. At the first beat, her right leg slid forward. Her breathing filled the empty spaces between the notes.
Her left leg swept into a semicircle as her wrist curved gracefully, fingers narrowing toward one another.
With her weight perfectly balanced on the ball of her foot, Dasom began her turn half a beat late, checking her posture against her reflection in the mirror.
Her back stretched long, gaze angled downward, her pointed toe marking a dot in the air. The music brightened, and her movements quickened in response.
Her body was a brush, and the air her canvas. Each motion left behind a fleeting stroke of grace.
