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Chapter 4
In Seoul, Yoon-jae’s day began at five in the morning.
Essay writing and speech lessons, English, math, swimming, kendo, golf, horseback riding—
an endless schedule far too much for a child his age.
The only place where he could breathe was Yongsugol, the village he visited every vacation.
To Yoon-jae, this village was his only sanctuary, his only rest.
That morning, he woke earlier than usual and hurriedly changed his clothes.
The doctor who had come at dawn had left with relief in his voice: Yoon-jae’s ankle was fine.
But still, the man had warned: if any pain returned, they must go to the hospital at once.
“Grandfather, you heard him, right? I’m really fine.”
“Not until your father arrives. No going out.”
“Grandfather, that’s not fair. Today’s the first day of the peach harvest.”
“And what does that matter? You’re not even from this village.”
“How can you say that? I’ve been waiting the whole year just for this day!”
“You’ve never once said you wanted to go on harvest day before. Why suddenly now?”
“Th–that’s…”
“Didn’t you hear the doctor? Even if your leg seems fine, we don’t know for sure. Be careful. If you want peaches, I’ll let you eat as many as you like, so stop being stubborn.”
“That’s exactly why I shouldn’t just stay home! And I’m not going alone—I’ll be with Mister Han. Please let me go. Otherwise, I’ll have to wait until next summer vacation. That’s far too cruel for me.”
His round eyes shone as he pressed his palms together.
The stern mask broke. Chairman Jung let out a small laugh.
He always said no, but in front of Yoon-jae, he always relented.
“Fine then. But promise me—never even look at a bicycle again.”
“Yes, Grandfather! I promise! Then I’m off!”
Chairman Jung’s gaze clung to the boy’s retreating back for a long while.
Yoon-jae hurried straight to the side of Han, the loyal driver.
“Mister Han, it’s true, right?”
“What is, young master?”
“That on the first day of the peach harvest, every single villager gathers at the orchard?”
“Yes. It’s been the tradition here for generations—everyone joins in the harvest and shares the joy.”
“Good. Then… what about the thing I asked you for?”
“As you ordered, I chose the most dazzling and the most beautiful one.”
A sly smile curved Yoon-jae’s lips.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the village—
“You had a fever all night, and now you want to come with me? You should rest at home.”
“I don’t want to be alone.”
“Wouldn’t one more day of rest be better?”
“I’ve only ever eaten peaches. I’ve never seen them being picked. I want to see it.”
Yongsun sighed, but her heart softened.
“Fine then, come with me. We’ll pick peaches, eat something delicious, and that will cheer you up.”
Su-yeon’s face, pale with fever the night before, now carried a faint, healthy blush.
Though the walk took only ten minutes, from the moment they passed the zelkova tree, the sweet fragrance of ripe peaches drifted in the breeze, tickling Su-yeon’s nose.
“Your birthday’s coming soon, isn’t it?” Yongsun said, gently holding her granddaughter’s small hand.
The orchard was already full of villagers, busy from early morning.
When Yongsun entered hand in hand with Su-yeon, all eyes turned.
“Our pretty Su-yeon is here.”
“She grows lovelier each time I see her. Prettier than all these peaches.”
“Now that she’s here, I doubt I’ll even notice the peaches at all.”
“Would you like to try picking one?” Kim, the orchard keeper, asked warmly.
“Can I really?” Her eyes sparkled.
“Of course. But such a pretty face shouldn’t get tanned. Why didn’t you wear a hat?”
“I lost it…”
Kim took the hat from his own head and placed it gently on hers.
“A hat can always be replaced. But this year’s first peach—you should be the one to pick it.”
On the ladder, held steady by the villagers, Su-yeon twisted a plump peach until it came free into her hands.
“Well done! Su-yeon, you’re one of us now.”
“Since she picked the first peach, next year’s harvest will surely be abundant.”
“Of course! With such a pretty girl picking it, how could it not?”
Not far away, two figures whispered.
“That girl—the one who picked the first peach—she must be the hat’s owner.”
“You’re certain?”
“Her appearance matches your description exactly.”
Yoon-jae’s heart beat faster. His eyes stayed fixed on her.
“But why are we hiding like this?” he muttered.
By now, the villagers had noticed the boy.
“Who’s that?”
“The chairman’s grandson.”
“Chairman Jung’s grandson? What’s he doing here?”
The words hit Su-yeon’s ears with a jolt.
The chairman’s grandson.
Her heart skipped. She turned—and there he was, smiling under the summer sun.
“My name is Jung Yoon-jae. I’m twelve. I came to stay with my grandfather for vacation, and since today is the peach harvest, I thought I’d join.”
“Perfect. You can be friends with Su-yeon while you’re here.”
“She’s two years younger, isn’t she?”
“What’s a year or two between friends?”
“Exactly. Age doesn’t matter in friendship,” Yoon-jae said with a dazzling smile.
The midsummer sunlight seemed to shine only on him.
“Miss, we’ve arrived,” the taxi driver said, waking the dozing Su-yeon.
“Oh—I must’ve fallen asleep. Thank you.”
She stepped out and looked up at the towering building.
On its facade, the Do-won Group logo gleamed coldly.
Her brows knit together.
The Pandora’s box opened at Yongsun’s funeral.
The quiet village had collapsed into chaos overnight.
It began with the announcement: a redevelopment plan, a seaside resort project centered around Yongsugol.
The village split in two—some for, some against.
Every morning, voices rose, arguments spilling into the streets.
The once-peaceful spring village, covered in blossoms and peach fragrance, was now strung with banners denouncing redevelopment.
Kim and the other men led protests, their voices hoarse.
Even as her body weakened, Yongsun held firm.
This house was more than a guesthouse.
It was where she had given birth to her daughter, watched her grow, attend school, find work, marry, and finally bring Su-yeon into the world.
“This house holds all my memories. Of my daughter, my son-in-law, and my Su-yeon. I cannot destroy it for money.”
On the day she closed her eyes for the last time, her breathing shallow, she repeated only one plea:
“Don’t let them tear it down.”
Su-yeon wept until she could barely breathe.
But less than a day after Yongsun’s passing, a shattering truth reached her ears.
At the funeral, even villagers who had quarreled bitterly set aside their fights to stand by her.
Kim, the women’s association leader, and others took turns staying at her side.
Yet amid their whispers, Su-yeon overheard:
“Do you know why Yongsun collapsed so suddenly?”
“Didn’t she slip in the yard? A concussion?”
“That’s only what people think. It wasn’t just the fall. It was the shock.”
Her heart pounded as she listened.
“Her daughter and son-in-law—the accident that killed them. People say it was caused by Do-won Construction, the same company redeveloping Yongsugol.”
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
Her chest burned.
The words struck harder than any blow:
Do-won Construction. The reason her parents had died.
