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Chapter 42
“You’re home.”
The one who greeted us and Yoonjae when we returned was none other than Mrs. Kim, who had specially come in to work today.
“Ma’am…”
Moved by her warm welcome, my eyes stung, and without realizing it, I acted spoiled.
“I missed you.”
“Hm? You missed me?”
Rubbing my face against her.
“This warm and cozy embrace. Not like someone else’s—cold and harsh like the Siberian plains, sharp and nitpicky like an ice pick.”
Even with sunglasses dimming my sight, I clung to Mrs. Kim with unerring accuracy.
At my words, which blatantly jabbed at one specific person, Mrs. Kim glanced at Yoonjae awkwardly, then patted me in her arms.
“Oh my, you must have been in a lot of pain. Did the surgery go well? Are you feeling all right?”
“Hm, I’m not sure. It feels like it hurts and doesn’t at the same time. They said it’ll get better after today passes. I have to wear these sunglasses for a week, too. I barely got rid of my glasses, and now they’re making me wear another pair.”
Chatter, chatter.
It was a relatively simple surgery, one that should allow daily life by the very next day, but for now, a day hadn’t yet passed.
“It aches oddly and throbs.”
I’d heard I only needed to wear sunglasses outside, but I found myself constantly half-squinting, so I kept them on.
“So, for now, I think it hurts.”
Watching me from behind, Yoonjae barely hid his turmoil.
He was still unsettled.
‘Who else do I have but you?’
The words I’d said earlier, my vulnerable eyes laid bare without the shield of glasses, still made his face flush hot.
Though the sunglasses now hid them, the unfamiliar pounding in his chest hadn’t gone away.
Even my childish antics were enough to shake him.
Sigh.
Maybe that’s why he wasn’t too pleased seeing me, perfectly capable of walking, yet still nestled in Mrs. Kim’s arms.
“It wasn’t a painful procedure.”
Yoonjae muttered as he stepped inside. I quickly wriggled out of Mrs. Kim’s embrace, straightened my skewed sunglasses, and replied,
“That’s the trap. Surgery always hurts. Isn’t that right, ma’am?”
“Of course. Anything that touches living flesh hurts. What about dinner? Is there anything you’re not supposed to eat?”
“They didn’t say anything like that. I don’t feel like eating yet, so I’ll eat something later.”
“What? You, ma’am?”
“……”
How much of a glutton did she think I was?
As I pondered briefly on my eating habits, Yoonjae, walking ahead, turned slightly with a smirk.
‘That’s a talent in itself.’
Sometimes he was too close, other times so aggravating I wanted to smack him.
“Let’s head to your room first—ah, right.”
Just as Mrs. Kim was about to guide me along, she paused.
“There’s something I need to give you. Wait here.”
She hurried off to the living room, then returned with a small envelope, handing it to me.
“Your mail, ma’am.”
“Mine?”
“Yes. Vice President Yoon received the same thing as well.”
Surprised, since I never got mail, I pushed up my sunglasses a little to see.
The first thing I noticed, even through my still-blurry vision, was a logo impossible not to recognize.
Eunyang Foundation.
The most prestigious foundation in Korea—its very first chairman had sponsored countless figures in politics and business.
Its reputation was second to none.
Knowing their influence, they were famously arrogant, rarely deigning to engage with others.
But now—
“Why would they…”
To me—or more precisely, to Joo Aejeong.
Just as I was about to open it, a hand covered mine.
“……”
At some point, Yoonjae had appeared, his large hand pressing down on the envelope. I tilted my head at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Give it here.”
He tried to take it, but I reflexively tightened my grip.
“They said it’s mine.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you trying to take it?”
“Because it’s not something you need to worry about.”
Startled, Mrs. Kim flinched. Even as a bystander, such harsh words stung—how much more for me, the one they were directed at?
Worried, she glanced at me nervously.
‘What do I do? If ma’am gets hurt…’
Silence hung for a moment before I finally spoke.
“Oh, really?”
With my unseen eyes fixed on Yoonjae behind the sunglasses, I gave a small nod.
“Okay.”
Then, calmly, I released the envelope.
“Guess it’s nothing I need to see.”
“Exactly.”
“I understand. Take it.”
I had read the truth hidden in his blunt words.
Handing the letter over without hesitation, I watched him chuckle faintly as he turned away.
‘He’s laughing? Why? What is this?’
Mrs. Kim, unable to follow the undercurrents between us, was left puzzled.
What kind of relationship was this? At first, they’d seemed completely at odds. Now, they were like two poles—opposites, yet inseparably drawn together.
Still unsettled, she was jolted back when I said,
“Ma’am, I’ll rest for a bit before dinner. If there’s any meat, please just heat up something simple.”
“……Ah, yes, of course.”
I showed no sign of being upset at all.
Normally, it was unthinkable for a housekeeper to meddle in their employer’s affairs. Yet fearing I might be hurt, she had nearly spoken out of turn.
“Um, ma’am.”
It seemed I wasn’t the only one giving her heart trouble.
“Yes?”
“Are you… really okay?”
She couldn’t read my expression behind the sunglasses, but remembering how fragile I’d been when we first met, she worried.
But I only looked surprised.
“About what?”
“Well… I mean…”
“Oh, you mean because of what he said.”
I answered plainly, glancing in the direction Yoonjae had gone, then shrugged.
“He’s just blunt. I’m sure he meant I really don’t need to bother with it.”
“Huh?”
“Why waste time unnecessarily, right?”
It felt like she could see my eyes, though hidden. Clear eyes that twisted no words and harbored no misunderstandings.
“So, please—make sure it’s meat. Meat.”
Focusing instead on dinner, I left Mrs. Kim with no choice but to let go of her worries.
“Yes, ma’am.”
With a smile, I went into my room. Mrs. Kim sighed, muttering to herself,
“People these days… I don’t get them.”
As she turned to the kitchen, she added silently,
‘Still, he shouldn’t speak that way. What if they end up fighting for real…’
Clatter.
At that very moment, she nearly jumped out of her skin—Yoonjae had appeared.
‘Ack!’
Like a child caught sneaking snacks past fifty, she scrambled to compose herself.
But for a veteran housekeeper, masking her expression was nothing.
“Are you making coffee? Wait, let me do that for you.”
Yoonjae only ever came into the kitchen for two reasons: meals or coffee. So it wasn’t hard to guess what he was doing.
“You just need to ask me. I’ll take care of it.”
She quickly stepped forward, taking the kettle from his hand.
But Yoonjae quietly said,
“You don’t need to trouble yourself with this.”
“This is exactly the kind of thing I’m here for. Please, have a seat.”
Feeling guilty for criticizing him silently earlier, she hurried to make up for it.
‘Honestly, get a hold of yourself.’
She already knew—Yoonjae rarely asked for anything, to the point where she sometimes felt guilty taking her salary.
Sighing quietly, she filled the coffee machine. Then, unusually, he addressed her.
“Mrs. Kim.”
“Yes, sir?”
After a very brief pause, Yoonjae spoke.
“I think it’s best to avoid greasy foods.”
What?
She almost asked aloud, but quickly caught his meaning.
It was the first time in all these years he’d ever made a request about meals.
Momentarily dazed, she nodded fervently.
“Yes, of course! I’ll make sure of it!”
Mrs. Kim was a veteran.
Over thirty years in this work, she had heard countless stories, seen countless things—yet always kept silent, her face carefully neutral.
This time, though, she failed.
“Why are you smiling?”
It seemed she hadn’t hidden it well.
“Oh dear, was I? Sorry. I just suddenly thought of my granddaughter.”
“…I see.”
She managed to school her expression, bowing slightly.
‘They really are a perfect match.’
Swallowing back the words she dared not say aloud.
“……”
Yoonjae, meanwhile, felt oddly teased, and soothed the discomfort with a sip of coffee.
