TCE 11

Chapter 11

We weren’t Cinderella, but we did have to tiptoe around our stepmother and stepsiblings.

It’s not like we were ever openly slapped around or ignored, but the petty, annoying behavior was real. Sometimes I wondered why they treated me that way, but now, seeing this situation, I think I get it a little.

“Am I just the kind of woman older ladies don’t like?”

My stepmother, Ha Yun-jae’s stepmother, and even these women—it was all the same.

Maybe I just had bad luck running into them, but of course, it didn’t feel good. I curled my lips slightly and stepped forward.

“Why should I—”

Smack.

Just as I was about to cause a commotion, someone held my shoulder down.

Then, faster than me, she stepped forward toward the women. It was the wife of the department head, who had been clearing away food scraps in the corner.

“Ladies, we’re very busy since the event is in full swing. Could you come back later?”

She must have been in her early to mid-50s.

The seated women looked mid-to-late 40s at best, and one looked even younger.

Either way, they were definitely younger than the department head’s wife, and so they only tilted their heads lazily without standing.

“Oh my, Mrs. Kang, you’re here again this time.”

“…Yes, well.”

“Goodness. How long do you plan to keep this up? You’re not getting any younger, and this kind of work will wear down your body. It’s not like you’re the kindergarten director.”

Their tinkling laughter sounded like a bunch of schoolgirls.

While others hesitated awkwardly at their unpleasant laughter, the woman being mocked, the department head’s wife, continued without showing much emotion.

“I’m used to it, so it’s fine. It’s work I actually enjoy.”

“Really? Well, true enough—if you wish for what you can’t have, you only get exhausted. Still, don’t stay here too long. At this rate, all the kindergartners will graduate before you leave.”

Again came another burst of shrill laughter.

And beneath it, faint whispers drifted into my ears.

“They say her husband got promoted to managing director last year. Guess he caught the right line.”

“Still, how can a person change so much so suddenly?”

“That’s people for you. I get it—better than being stuck as a department head forever.”

I didn’t know the full circumstances, but I could tell their relationship was nastier than it seemed.

Unaware of their whispers, the department head’s wife spoke gracefully.

“Anyway, sorry to bother you. It’s quiet in here, but outside there are so many people, it’s exhausting.”

To dismiss this booth—where all the grunt work was shoved—as simply “quiet” must sting for the ones working here.

It’d hurt their pride, it’d upset them, and also—

“Mind if we rest a bit here?”

—people would feel sorry for her situation.

But who wouldn’t recognize that these women had come deliberately to needle and stir trouble? Playing aristocrats by dividing into ranks—there’s no shortage of that, here or anywhere.

“Pathetic, really.”

Doing dishes would’ve been a hundred times more meaningful than enduring this boring scene.

As I laughed bitterly at these women acting like their husbands’ status was their own, one of them caught me.

“Oh my, you’re laughing?”

Her smile was beautiful, but how could her tone drip with so much venom?

“What’s your name? Where are you from?”

I replied calmly under her leisurely gaze.

“Yeongdo.”

“Yeongdo Group? Which department? Whose wife are you? Where does your husband work?”

As she probed my personal details, the booth turned tense like thin ice.

Sensing the atmosphere, the department head’s wife intervened, blocking her gaze toward me.

“Please, ma’am, that’s enough. She’s new here today.”

“So what?”

Switching to outright informal speech, the woman folded her arms and turned to another lady.

“Bring me the guestbook.”

She acted more like a queen giving orders, and the other woman scurried off.

I waited, hiding a smirk, curious how far this ridiculousness would go. Soon the guestbook arrived.

The woman flipped through it page by page.

“All familiar names… this one too… wait, what’s this? Jo… no, Oh? What letter is this supposed to be?”

“Oh dear, such terrible handwriting.”

Wait.

As she rattled off the names, my gloved hand froze mid-stretch. The blood drained from my face.

When told to write my name, I had scribbled it without thinking. And what I wrote was—

“…Go Woori.”

The moment I realized my blunder—writing my real name—someone clapped as if making a discovery.

Clap!

“Ah, that says ‘Go.’ So this is Go Woo—”

“I’ll go buy them now, ma’am!”

“Oh my gosh!”

Appearing before them as if by magic, I bowed deeply, both hands clasped politely.

“I’m new here, so I didn’t know the atmosphere. My apologies. Should I get five lattes?”

Her demure attitude caught the women off guard, and they chimed in one by one.

“I’ll have a mocha.”

“I’ll take an Americano.”

Unbelievable.

Before my veins popped with anger, the woman handed me her card.

“You heard them. Three lattes, one mocha, one Americano. Here’s the card.”

Graciously, she at least offered her card for payment. I accepted it politely and also reached for the guestbook resting on her lap.

“I’ll return this for you.”

Smiling sweetly, I tucked the guestbook to my chest.

“Looks like you’re finally learning some sense. Go ahead.”

With her tone softened again, she shrugged, and I slipped away with the guestbook in hand.

As soon as I rounded the corner toward the food truck booth, I opened it.

“That was close.”

If my name, “Go Woori,” stood there boldly, it could cause serious trouble.

If people learned that Joo Ae-jeong—married to Ha Yun-jae—attended a Yeongdo Group event under the name of Go Woori, her ex-fiancé’s recently deceased lover?

Who in the world wouldn’t call that insane?

I picked up the pen clipped to the book and began crossing out my name.

“Hey.”

“Ahhh!”

I had barely scratched out a few lines when a sudden voice startled me into screaming.

The intruder, the department head’s wife, clutched her chest in surprise.

“S-sorry! But why are you so jumpy? Nearly made me drop the baby I don’t even have.”

“Ha… yeah, there are things scary enough to make even a nonexistent baby drop.”

“Huh?”

“No, nothing. What brings you here?”

She gave me a curious look, then spoke softly.

“Nothing really. I just wanted to tell you something.”

“Go ahead.”

Since I didn’t dislike her, I waited politely. After a pause, she continued.

“You don’t need to crush yourself for your husband’s sake.”

“….”

“He’s him, and you’re you. Supporting him doesn’t mean you should shrink yourself and sacrifice everything. So don’t lose confidence. Be true to yourself.”

Pat, pat.

She patted my shoulder gently with a faint smile.

“You’re still young, even without your husband.”

It wasn’t a long speech, but it carried weight.

Maybe that conviction was why she had stayed at this food truck for seventeen years. Even if I didn’t know her well, I could feel her integrity.

And it wasn’t just her hand that comforted me.

“You’re still young.”

It felt like words meant for me, someone who had once nearly lost everything. Even in this state, I still had possibilities.

“I am me.”

Not Ha Yun-jae. Not Joo Ae-jeong or Go Woori.

Just me.

After putting the guestbook back and buying the coffee, I carried everything in both hands, humming lightly.

For some reason, a pleasant tune slipped out, unstoppable.

The knot in my chest had loosened a little thanks to her words. Receiving comfort from such an unexpected place made this coffee errand feel like nothing.

And the upcoming event looked fairly decent, all things considered.

“Bigger than I expected.”

Not stunning in terms of aesthetics, but respectable for its scale.

Just as I rounded the corner toward the food truck booth, I stopped dead.

“What is this?”

So many people had crowded around that I couldn’t even see the booth.

The space wasn’t large to begin with, cluttered with cooking gear, now packed so tightly it felt like a blocked drain.

I pushed my way through, confused by the unexpected scene.

“Excuse me, can I just—ugh.”

If I hadn’t been carrying coffee, I could’ve slipped through. But with both hands full, I couldn’t push without risking a spill.

I called out to the backs blocking me.

“I’m working here—well, not exactly, but I need to get through. Hey, excuse me?”

Even straining on my toes made no difference.

Whether they ignored me or truly didn’t hear, no one made room. Instead, someone stepping backward knocked me off balance.

Thunk!

“W-whoa!”

The small collision made me wobble violently.

The lids popped off the coffee cups, and hot liquid spilled over my hands.

“Ahh, hot!”

Shocked by the sudden burn, I cried out instinctively.

The sharp shout cut through the noise, and for a moment, the crowd stilled. Then, like the parting of the Red Sea, people split to either side.

A path opened—as if forced apart—and striding swiftly down it came not Moses, of course, but—

Step, step.

With long strides, he came straight to me and grabbed my wet hand.

His eyes blazed as he spoke.

“I told you.”

“….”

“Not to get hurt.”