TCE 30

Chapter 30

Smack!

We saw it head-on—the moment Kyung-chul’s large hand struck Yoon-jae across the cheek. Instinctively, we rushed forward.

“What are you doing right now—!”

Smack!

Even as we moved, Kyung-chul’s hand came down again on Yoon-jae’s face, sharp and merciless.

She was so shocked she couldn’t even make a sound. His hand lifted a third time.

“W-wait a second!”

Seeing Yoon-jae about to be slapped for the third time, we couldn’t help but dart forward, throwing ourselves between them.

So much for the word modesty—we moved faster than thought.

“Stop!”

Because she stood firm in the middle, Kyung-chul’s hand halted. With an expressionless face, he looked down at us.

Having been struck so suddenly, she lashed back, sharp and fierce.

“What on earth are you doing?”

She knew better than anyone else that Go Kyung-chul was a bad-tempered, cruel, and cold man.

But at least, her father had never been someone who raised his hand. He’d scold, he’d rage, he’d push harshly—but he had never once struck them.

That was why this was even harder to understand.

Under her fierce glare, Kyung-chul finally lowered his hand. Looking at Yoon-jae, who had silently offered up his cheek, he muttered:

“So, you’re standing in for my daughter.”

What?

“This won’t be enough, but… I don’t even have the right.”

Words we had never imagined—never even dared to hope for—made our eyes waver.

It wasn’t a difficult sentence, and yet it felt like hearing a foreign language. She trembled in shock, lips parting as if to speak, but barely managed to restrain herself.

No…

If she spoke now, she might make a mistake.

Meanwhile, Kyung-chul continued, staring at Yoon-jae’s reddened cheek.

“To be honest, I want to do the same to you again. But I can’t. Knowing her, she would have hated something like this. Still… I thought this way, maybe, it would feel a little less unfair.”

Hearing the sincerity in his words at such close range made it strangely difficult to breathe.

Watching her eyes tremble, Kyung-chul sneered faintly.

“Don’t try to understand. I’m not trying to make you understand, nor do I expect it.”

His voice carried bitterness—like a confession.

Or perhaps… sorrow.

Standing before the father who believed his daughter dead, the emotions swirling inside her could not be described.

There had been no love. None of the natural affection that should exist between parent and child had ever been there for us.

And yet, despite herself, she could not suppress the emotions breaking through her reason.

“I’m sorry.”

A small apology reached Kyung-chul.

It could be taken in many ways, but it wasn’t spoken out of affection.

“Please… stay healthy.”

Not as someone who loved him, but simply… as a human being. Or maybe, as a daughter.

No matter how cold the years had been.

“…!”

For a fleeting moment, it seemed like tears glistened in Kyung-chul’s eyes. It was so brief it could’ve been an illusion. Before we could be sure, his hand rose again.

Whoosh—!

At that instant, Yoon-jae, who had been silent all along, pulled us tightly into his arms.

As though afraid Kyung-chul’s hand might reach her, he turned his body, shielding her completely.

Smack!

But the hand did not fall on her.

It struck Kyung-chul’s own cheek.

“Ah…”

Much harder than when he had struck Yoon-jae.

Having hit himself without holding back, Kyung-chul returned to his usual gruff, stubborn expression. The tears we thought we glimpsed were gone, replaced by dry eyes. He looked at the two of them once more, then turned on his heel.

She stared blankly as he walked away quickly, still feeling the warmth of the arms holding her.

That warmth carried the clear will to protect her from harm.

What is this…

It was such a strange, unfamiliar feeling.

“….”

Amidst the surging tide of emotions, we pulled away from Yoon-jae’s arms.

He let go without resistance, and when she faced him with her still-uneasy heart, she lifted a hand.

“Let me see.”

Though it wasn’t really a request, her hand touched Yoon-jae’s cheek.

His eyes widened slightly at her sudden gesture, but she ignored it, frowning at the strange heat she felt under her palm.

“Why did you just let yourself be hit like that?”

Twice, at that.

Her knitted brows showed clear disapproval. Yoon-jae answered flatly:

“Because it was my share.”

“Goo Woo-ri’s death wasn’t your fault. She told you that herself.”

“I know. But it feels like it should be.”

“Say something that makes sense. This is just—”

“Because I’m sorry.”

With those quiet words, Yoon-jae swallowed the faint taste of blood in his mouth.

The inside of his cheek had split, but he didn’t care. If anything, it made him feel clearer.

Slowly, her hand fell away from his cheek. Startled, she opened her lips.

“…Sorry to who?”

She had never imagined Ha Yoon-jae would say something like that.

Maybe he hadn’t either, because he answered indifferently:

“Who knows.”

His gaze drifted somewhere near the place where they had just visited the columbarium.

Following that vague direction, she clenched her hand that still held the lingering heat of his cheek.

Her eyes lowered, trembling again.

“If that’s all, then let’s—”

Before Yoon-jae could finish turning, he felt something hold him back.

It was his sleeve.

“…”

Of course, the one holding it was us.

She kept her head bowed, gripping his sleeve tightly, not moving.

“Joo Ae-jung?”

Confused by her stillness, he bent down slightly and called her. But she said nothing, eyes fixed on the floor.

She couldn’t answer.

…This is so annoying.

Her father’s strange expression—one she had never seen before—and Yoon-jae’s apology had struck something deep inside her.

It was suffocating, unbearable, like a faucet clogged but leaking under pressure.

Caught in the swirl of emotions she had never felt before, she clenched and unclenched her hand over and over.

But it was useless.

Drip.

Finally, the dam burst. A tear fell to the floor.

She was furious, frustrated, and couldn’t stand it, yet she couldn’t stop it. Once the blockage gave way, the tears kept flowing.

“Ae-jung, what’s wrong? What is it?”

Still bowing her head, her body began trembling. Alarmed, Yoon-jae gripped her shoulders.

She had always been frail, pale even on good days.

To be sure, he forcibly lifted her head.

And then—he saw her tears, flowing like a broken faucet.

“…You.”

Tears streamed from her clear, transparent eyes—so bright it made his breath catch, so powerful it sent shocks straight to his heart.

“Ha Yoon-jae-ssi.”

Her voice pierced straight into him.

Even then, she clung stubbornly to his sleeve, gripping tighter as she spoke.

“Am I alive?”

“What?”

“Just answer me. Am I alive right now?”

She needed to know this moment wasn’t an illusion.

He hesitated briefly, then exhaled lightly and replied.

“You’re alive.”

Such simple words—but they were everything she needed.

At the same time, overwhelmed by feelings she couldn’t control, she opened her mouth.

“This is… this is really absurd, I know. Completely ridiculous, I get that. But…”

Through a tightening throat, she forced the words out.

“…Please hold me.”

“…What?”

“Hold me.”

“….”

“You’re my husband.”

A plea, framed as an undeniable truth.

“You’re my side.”

There was no way to express all the grief, the sorrow, the helplessness.

Her death? This absurd situation? Everything was ridiculous. But if the person standing before her truly had warmth… if he was real…

Before she even finished the thought, Yoon-jae pulled her into a fierce embrace.

So tight it stole her breath.

Only then did she squeeze her eyes shut.

If this warmth, this heat, this heartbeat were real…

Then this embrace must be real too.

She clutched his clothes and sobbed.

Maybe she had wanted this from the very beginning.

Emotions she had never shared with anyone, never even admitted to herself, she had only pressed down and pressed down again.

Even when she was terrified, dizzy, and lost, she pretended calm, put on a brave face, acted as if she was fine.

But now, she couldn’t hold back anymore.

“….”

Her pitiful sobs soaked Yoon-jae’s chest.

The woman who had always laughed, always so bright like a fool, was crying.

He didn’t know what had broken her so completely, but the sound of her cries struck him straight in the heart, squeezing painfully.

Until now, no one’s tears had ever moved him.

But now—holding this weeping woman for reasons unknown—Yoon-jae bit his lip.

…Damn it.

Her tears were soaking into him.

So deeply, they would never dry.